by F. E. Arliss
She and Chloe were onboard an Orbit Guard cruiser that was escorting a large shipment of the new Soclaued ore back to earth. The ore had been loaded onto a string of cargo barge-type carriers and were strung out in a train heading towards Earth. Major Bergstrom had the command. “Barge duty,” he’d snorted derisively. She’d punched him in the arm, “Hey, that’s my duty, not just yours, you’re denigrating, so stop it!” She’d demanded. He’d had the grace to apologize and kiss her into forgiveness.
Things had been pretty calm so far. Katyia had set up a med-bay on one of the ore barges in the middle of the convoy and had been treating anyone injured during the loading procedures. She assured Johanna that everything was very dull down there.
Johanna had been working on the Yakuza stealth fighter that she and her team, Ensigns Taggart and Smith, had winched aboard the supply platform. When it came through on the comms that Tiger Guard would be doing the escort of the ore to earth, Major Bergstrom had made sure that the small vessel was loaded aboard the cruiser so that she could work on it in her down time. Having a relationship with the Major in charge, did indeed, have some perks.
She’d been tinkering around with it for days now, as the ore shipment had been very quiet. That quiet ended abruptly as claxtons sounded and the noise sent the hair on Johanna’s arms upright in alarm. The whine of charging laser turrets notified her that they were going to fire on something. A second later, several volleys of weapons fire sent repercussive pulses through the ship.
“Corpsman Van Heusen report to Fighter Bay 1. You will be deployed to the rear of the barge train to gain control of that barge’s thrusters. The supply convoy has been attacked and is in pieces. You will need to gain control of the rear of the convoy and deploy all haste towards Earth,” came Lieutenant Blandin’s voice over her comms. “Grab a go-bag and get there on the double. Take your team with you.”
“Yes, sir. On my way now, sir,” Johanna gasped as she ran across the cargo bay and flung a go-bag on her back. Thumbing a different channel on her comms she barked, “Taggart! I need you and Smith at Fighter Bay 1 on the double. Bring go-bags!”
Thirty seconds later she thundered into Fighter Bay 1 and saw that Taggart and Smith were barreling through the lift tube doors. The flight deck Sergeant motioned each of them to a different fighter. They boarded the back seats of each without question, strapped on flight masks, and were airborne a minute later.
From space Johanna could see that the barge train was indeed broken in half. One container floated in space, listing slightly to one side. A gaping hole showed were it had been hit, then boarded by the pirates. A filament of temporary docking membrane hung limply from its side.
She could also see the front part of the supply convoy pushing towards Earth with all possible speed. The back end, however, looked dead in the water. Her team would have to see if they could get on the engine car at the rear and power it up. Hopefully, all systems would be operational. She felt a little knot start in her stomach.
Three minutes later the fighters slowly entered the small remaining space on the loading bay floor. Damn good pilots, she thought, as she observed the closely packed landing.
She scrambled out of the cockpit as the docking bay doors closed behind the three small vessels. She, Taggart and Smith barreled towards the emergency tube down to engineering. They were met by a frazzled Ensign that seemed at his wit’s end.
“I’ve tried to get everything back online,” he whined, “but it just isn’t cooperating.”
“Stand aside and let us look it over,” Johanna said calmly. “We’ll let you know if we need you,” she assured him. He slumped onto a small seat screwed into the bulkhead and heaved an enormous sigh of relief.
“Thanks for getting here so fast,” he said. “I’m Ensign Voight.”
Johanna didn’t answer, she was too busy running a diagnostic on the system to bother. It didn’t look like Ensign Voight had done anything except try to push the button that started the engine. Which didn’t do anything, because he hadn’t turned on any of the systems that allowed fuel or power to flow towards the engine. They’d been turned off for safety reasons. Computers tended to talk to each other, and an electrical storm or solar flare could occasionally cause a system to reboot. If that happened, it could have torn the convoy apart.
Now that had happened, by an act of piracy, they needed to reboot all of the fuel systems and get the circuitry all working together. Plus, they needed to reroute the direction of travel. That was going to have to be done via space-walk, as the panels that managed that were external and moved via hydraulic levers that were protected by panels on the outside of the hull. Two of them would have to space-walk, one for each set of rotors on the sides of the engine room’s hull.
Johanna sat at the console and began rebooting the systems, in the meantime, she had Taggart and Smith start hauling out the thruster suits and commed the docking bay to let them know that they’d need a side portal to the outside in a few minutes. Time was of the essence, as they were drifting badly and pirates could still be nearby.
Slowly the systems began humming to life. Johanna had Taggart take the controls and she and Smith headed for the docking bay, each with a thruster suit and power wrench. Pulling on the heavy suits was always and exercise in patience and Johanna’s was running low. Finally, they were ready. Stepping into the small pressure portal, she palmed the pad and watched in snap to red, then slowly turn green. “Ready Smith?” She asked her teammate.
“Yep! Born ready, ma’am,” he quipped. The door slid open exposing the black void of space. Johanna stepped out, then slowly applied jet pressure to turn to watch Smith. Motioning for him to follow her, she jetted slowly along the back of the barge till she found the first panel.
“Start removing the panel. See where the rotors are?” She asked Smith, pointing slightly above and behind the panel to the large fins that were currently pointing the wrong direction. “You’ll also need to check them manually to make sure they’re locked in place.”
“Yes, I see them,” he replied. “I’ll get this panel off and then engage the lever to change the direction. When I’m done with that shall I head over towards your side?”
“Yes, I’m crossing over now,” Johanna replied, then slowly began the ascent over the top of the barge to the rotor system on the other side. It took her a few minutes to get there. One tended to forget how huge these things were while deployed only inside a vessel like this.
Finding the panel that covered the hydraulics, she began unfastening the screws. Slipping them into a pocket on the back of her forearm, she pulled the panel open and placed both hands on the handle of the lever and pulled. It didn’t budge. She tried again, and finally it began to move toward her. She could see the massive rotor fins slowly beginning to align in the opposite direction.
Finally, she felt the big fins slot into place, and she flipped the panel closed. Reinserting the screws, she began to wonder where Smith was. He should be done on his side. Tightening the last screw on the protective panel, she jetted up to the rotor fins and gave them a testing tug. Yes, locked tight. With small spurts of power, she began using her thrusters to return to the portal side of the barge. Half way over, she saw Smith. He was floating limply above the rotor fins. One arm lay over his stomach, his other clasped over it protectively.
Johanna commed him. “Smith! Smith! What happened? Smith, answer me!”
“I’m conscious ma’am. It just hurts to move,” he gritted through the comm. “Came up to test the rotor after I got the direction switched and the damn thing kicked back like a mule. I think my arm is broken.”
“Did your suit inject anything for the pain?” Johanna asked, concerned.
“No ma’am and it didn’t shoot out any gel for stabilization either,” he groaned. “That’s why it hurts so damn bad. Damn suit is malfunctioning, as did the rotor.”
“Hang on, let me see what’s up with the rotor. Can you hang on that long?” she asked grimly.
Johanna whirled and looked through the helmet glass into Smith’s eyes, then tabbed her comm button. “Taggart, you there?” She asked quietly.
“Yes, I’m here,” came back Taggart. “All the controls look good to go.”
“Watch Voight. This looks like sabotage,” Johanna commanded urgently. “Don’t let him out of your sight.”
“Roger that, ma’am,” came back the grim reply.
“Smith is injured. I’ll notify the docking bay to send you back up. Secure Voight first,” she replied.
“Understood,” Taggart replied calmly.
“Docking bay, this is Corpsman Van Heusen. This was sabotage. Send back up to engineering and help Ensign Taggart secure Ensign Voight. We will need a bone kit at the docking portal when we return. Van Heusen out,” Johanna ordered.
“Security back-up on its way to engineering, ma’am. Bone kit to portal. Copy that. Pilot Treadwell out,” came the return comm.
Johanna slowly approached the rotors, as Smith hovered nearby clutching his arm. Sure enough. Low down on one side of the large fins, she could see the remains of a small lever device. It was cleverly done, she had to admit. It was placed low and inside the hull curves, so it was hard to see. Plus, it was very small, but made of high-tensile spring wire. Manual releases, so not fancy and nothing to be triggered by electricity or magnetic pulses. Very smart. Very dangerous.
Reaching in gently she slipped the remaining pieces of the device off the fin, and placed them into the leg pouch on the side of her suit. Cautiously, she reached out and tested the large fins. Nothing happened. They were clicked into place. “Looks like you took all the kick,” she said to Smith. “Come on, let’s get you back and get that arm set.”
A few minutes later they were back in the docking bay, and Ensign Smith had been lowered to the floor, a pain killer administered and an arm splint applied to his left forearm. A few minutes later he was leaning up against the side of the bulkhead and sipping a juice pack. Johanna had been informed that Ensign Voight was bound and had been placed in an empty cargo container.
Taggart had them chugging away on a trajectory towards Earth. What a day, though Johanna. These sabotaging bastards were everywhere. She laughed at herself. She sounded exactly like Major Bergstrom!
She commed the battle cruiser to let them know that they were operational and on target for Earth. On a private comm she opened a channel to Carlo. “This was sabotage. Someone had placed a device on the rear rotor fin that caused a massive kick back when it was checked manually. That’s protocol, so I’ve restrained the Ensign in charge of the barge’s engine room,” she told the Major breathlessly. “Plus, both of the external thruster suits had been tampered with so that they didn’t inject pain killers or support wounds. It could have been deadly. I so want this bastard jetted into space,” she added heatedly.
“Calm down, Jo,” Carlo answered back. “I’ve got it. He’ll pay. Just let me take care of it. You ok?” He asked, concern lacing his voice.
“Yeah, I’m ok,” she said tiredly. “Just sick of people trying to hurt us. Hurt others. I’d hoped to escape this kind of treachery from other humans when I joined the Corps. But I guess it’s just everywhere. Anything for money!” She added bitterly.
“I know. I hear you. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but they’ve taken Katyia. She’s a smart girl though. Turned on her comms as she was being taken. We know who it is. It’s Major Donji’s cousin Michael. I don’t expect that little turd to last long. Katyia will probably decapitate him. And, we both know, that if she doesn’t the Major or Haruto will. Poor bastard,” Carlo added without a shred of pity in his voice, then chuckled. “I’ll meet you in your quarters aboard the cruiser in a bit. Once we’re well underway and we’ve got alerts in place, I can take a break for a bit.”
“That would be good, babe,” Johanna said wearily, then snorted to herself. Did she just call Carlo, ‘babe’? Dear heaven, she was losing her mind.
She turned and trudged toward the fighter that would take her back to the cruiser. She was so discouraged that she didn’t even notice the shadow that slipped up behind her. A terrific blow to the side of her head, swung her around to face her attacker. It was Voight, shreds of the webbing they’d used to secure him hung from his wrists.
“Couldn’t keep me locked up,” he sneered. “Gotta go get my payday for my hard work here. You took that hit well bitch. What you got a hard head or something?”
“Or something,” Johanna agreed calmly, then drew her ever-present wrenches from the long sheaths at the sides of her legs. Standing facing him, she held one in each hand ready to battle.
“Really? You’re going to take me out with a couple of wrenches?” Voight laughed uproariously. “Seriously, you are some weird chick,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, so what you got that’s so much better than my wrenches?” She asked quietly. Not at all surprised when he drew a long switchblade from behind his back. “Ah, yes a steak knife,” she stated, unperturbed.
“I’m gonna skewer you bitch, and wipe that smirk off your face,” Voight said evilly, and began to advance towards Johanna.
He might have had a chance, if he’d been a knife thrower that is. Otherwise, he was a sitting duck. He just didn’t know it yet. With a rush Voight threw himself at her and ducked low, slashing at her thigh, trying to cut her venal artery. Instead of soft flesh and muscle, his blade met hard titanium. Johanna had stepped aside and allowed one wrench wielding arm to block the blade.
The resulting reverberation proceeded to knock the blade from his hand and caused him to stumble back several feet. A look of astonishment crossed his angry face. His eyes frantically searched for another weapon and he dove behind a crate coming up with small nail gun that had been laying to the side for fastening ore crates. He proceeded to come up firing a string of nails at Johanna’s dodging form. Several hit their mark, causing her to yelp in pain.
Shit those hurt, she thought to herself. Little bastard was so going down! Reaching down for the switchblade she’d scooped up from the floor where Voight had dropped it, she cut off a swath of her dark curls and snagged them into the top of a nearby crate. Whirling, she quickly made for a dark corner, wincing in agony as the small nails tore deeper into the flesh of her side and arm.
Voight could see the top of Van Heusen’s head. Stupid bitch! All that hair was giving her away. He was going to sneak up on her, while she sat nursing her nail punctures, and end her. Then he’d get his money and get the hell away to some resort barge on the outer rim and enjoy life. Finally!
Belly crawling, he squirmed closer to her position, then leapt to his feet firing the nail gun as fast as he could. Nails laced a line across the wooden crate just a few inches below the curls showing above i’s edge. The nails hit only wood. Voight stared dumbly at the empty space. Realizing that curls had been a decoy, he whirled to cover his back and came face to face with a titanium wrench delivered up-side his head. He fell like a tree.
“Carlo?” Johanna thumbed her comm.
“Yes?” He returned.
“Uhmmm, I’ve got about a dozen nails sticking out of me and I may have killed Voight. Could you please send someone down here? I think I’m going to faint…”, then promptly did. Later, she’d be pleased to learn that she’d had the presence of mind, while fainting, she’d add, to fall on her un-nailed side. Damn, she was good, she assured herself.
Several hours later she came to in the med-bay of the cruiser. Major Bergstrom had had her brought back aboard. The nails had been plucked from her body and she was trussed up with super-glue nanite composite in most of the holes, and loads of antibiotic patches over that. Pain killers were coursing through her veins.
Slapping open the door to her quarters, she fell onto her bunk. She’d left Taggart in charge of the barge’s engine room. He was reliable. She’d be able to rest for a bit and maybe restore her equilibrium. The pain killers sent her off into la-la land again in a few seconds.
A couple of hours later, Carlo Bergstrom entered the small bunk room where Johanna and Katyia shared upper and lower berths. Johanna had folded Katyia’s upper bunk into the bulkhead and the place seemed a bit larger. Though once his massive bulk entered the room, it shrank instantly to tiny.
Johanna sat up on the edge of her bunk and then stood and walked into his arms. Carlo snuggled her close, then pulled back and kissed her gently. “It’ll be alright. That girl is one tough cookie. Don’t worry, Hiro will get her back all in one piece,” he added softly. “We Major’s go the extra mile for our women,” he assured her, hugging her again. “How are you feeling? You had fourteen nails in your side and left arm. I was very worried about you. Still am.”
Johanna almost burst into tears. He was such a sweetie, her Major. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m not great, but I’m better off than Katyia. It’s hard not to worry,” she added, then pulled him down onto her bunk. “I need to feel your strength,” she whispered. Johanna reached up as he loomed over her and pulled him down to her unpunctured side, urging his mouth down to hers. “Make love to me. Make me feel good. Distract me,” she demanded. “Just stay on my right side, ok?” She giggled.