by E. R. Torre
“Agreed,” Maddox said.
“They don’t make them like they used to,” B’taav said. “If everything holds, we’ll be ready to go in another three hours.”
Oscar Theodor rushed down the immaculate upper deck of the Dakota along with the rest of the fighter pilots. They were called back to the Dakota by Lieutenant Lester Daniels and ordered to be in the ready room by 0805. That left Theodor less than five minutes after landing to remove his pressure suit and get there.
The Communication OP’s order was delivered without explanation, despite the fact that his fighter squad was still in the process of sweeping the asteroid field for signs of the survivors of the Pilgrimage. Theodor was angry they fell for the decoy ship trick twice. Whoever the pilots within that cargo craft were, they were clever. They had nearly decommissioned the Dakota and had managed, at least until now, to evade one of the Epsillon Empire’s finest flight squads. The boys in the other squads back home would never let them live that one down.
Theodor hurried his pace. He passed several companions and found he was the first to reach the main elevators. He pressed his access code into the elevator paneling and found the personnel of his squad surrounding him.
“What do you suppose this is about?” Sandra Mortimer inquired.
Theodor shrugged.
“I have no idea.”
“It can’t be good,” Jill Harris, one of the rookies on the squad, said. “Lieutenant Daniels can’t be happy. We’re going to get disciplined.”
Theodor shook his head. Why was it that every rookie coming into the squad proved such a delightful mix of raw nerves combined with a boundless pessimism?
Was I like that?
“There’s no use wasting energy on what might be,” Theodor said. “How about everyone take a moment to compose themselves?”
“Sir, if I may?” Jill asked.
“Yes?”
“Don’t you find it unusual for Lieutenant Daniels to call us in when we were just beginning our search? It's like he doesn't think we can find them.”
It's unusual, all right, Theodore thought. But there was more to this. The higher ups always showed some lack of understanding about their underlings. However, this level of incompetence he never thought possible. For most of this pursuit, the Tango squad was told to keep back and not advance too far ahead of the crippled Dakota. His squad was treated like a dog on a tight leash. If the craft they were pursuing should escape, the Tango squad members, and not their superiors, would be the ones blamed.
“I don’t know, nor question, my superior officer’s orders,” Theodor responded while those thoughts rumbled through his head. “I do know that whatever his plans may be, we will serve at his discretion and without question. Everyone here understands this, right?”
The members of the flight squad nodded. Within moments, the elevator doors opened.
The sound damper coils of the Xendos, it turned out, had disintegrated over time but proved surprisingly easy to fix.
After doing that job, B’taav and Cer ran a second major inspection of every component within the engines to make sure all the patchwork held and no leaks, tears, or burns were evident.
When they again ran the engines at full power, the sound and vibrations within the ship proved no more than a low murmur.
The Xendos was ready to fly.
The Independent and the Inquisitor left the ship’s cockpit and met up with the other passengers. They were huddled around the escape sled and in the process of packing up their meager belongings.
“We’re lifting off in a half hour,” Cer said.
“A half-hour it is,” Francis Lane said.
Maddox tagged along with Cer and B’taav as they headed back to the base’s storage room.
“To get the Argus’ central computer and Geist machine working, we’re going to need every power cell we can find, just in case,” B’taav said.
“There could be some compatibility issues,” Inquisitor Cer said. “This place carried material for Phaecian, not Epsillon, spacecraft.”
“We’ll have to improvise,” B’taav said. “We can get it to work.”
“Good,” Maddox muttered. “How about we grab what we need and get the hell out of here?”
Oscar Theodor was the first of the squad to enter the conference room. He was in for a surprise.
Seated around the table were members of the Blue Rogues, an elite anti-terrorist unit whose presence on board the Dakota was a whispered rumor since the ship’s arrival at Titus.
The Blue Rogues were dressed in dark leather suits. Half the twenty members were male and they all carried gold insignias indicating they were squad leaders. The Blue Rogues’ jobs usually involved insertion into hostile territory, identification of targets, hostage rescues, and, more often than not, threat elimination. Others, less charitably, referred to the later as assassinations.
Theodor swallowed. The Dakota was a very large craft, yet assuming each of the twenty squad leaders had a twenty person squad hidden away inside the ship…how had they avoided being detected this long?
But the biggest surprise proved to be the man sitting next to Lieutenant Lester Daniels. His suit was crisp in olive green, and the breast of his coat was filled with medals.
General Jurgens? Theodore thought. The situation must be even more serious than anyone thought.
“Fighter Squad Tango 13 reporting,” Oscar Theodor said. He addressed both Lieutenant Daniels and General Jurgens.
“At ease,” Lieutenant Daniels said. “As you’re undoubtedly aware, the gentleman to my right is General Anton Jurgens. You may also be aware that the men and women seated around this table are members of the Blue Rogues.”
The Blue Rogue squad leaders acknowledged the pilot’s presence with terse nods.
General Jurgens pointed to the large monitor immediately behind him. On it was a computer graphic that displayed the Dakota and her immediate surroundings.
“We don’t have much time, so I’ll be brief,” General Jurgens said. “Since our abrupt departure from Titus, we've focused on pursuing a single craft. The craft had a considerable jump on us and has used guile to keep out of our reach.”
Among other things, Theodor thought.
“We also fear they are listening in on our communications.”
Several mouths hung open in shock at this revelation.
“If true,” General Jurgens continued. “These people are not only fugitives, but they're also traitors to the Epsillon Empire.”
General Jurgens let that revelation sink in for a few seconds before continuing.
“Since they may be using our equipment against us, we will change our procedures. Following your departure, we will use our sensor equipment very sparingly. We will also fly in formation, utilizing a phalanx of ships spread out in a broad area to canvas and, eventually, sweep our elusive prey into our grasp. All communications between individual fighter crafts are hereby shut down. You will only, and I repeat, only use communication between crafts in the event of an emergency. You will not talk to each other or to command. You will not update each other on your status.”
Theodor raised his hand.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“What if we find them? Shouldn’t we—”
“Let me repeat,” General Jurgens said, his voice brimming with anger. “There will be absolutely no communication unless I personally rescind the command.”
The pilots knew better than to argue with the General. Confusion and concern regarding these orders was evident in each and every one of their faces.
“From this moment on, our method of communication will rely on a relatively old, and primitive, technology. Breadcrumbs.”
It took all his might for Theodor not to scream. Breadcrumbs? As if we haven't been crippled enough in our search!
The screen on the far wall activated, showing a diagram of a small, rectangular device.
“For those unfamiliar with them, a Breadcrumb is a battery
powered mini-transmitter. It releases a continuous location blip and whatever information you choose to record on it. The device has enough power to last three months and its transmissions are limited to roughly fifty kilometers. When you have found the hostile craft and initiated pursuit, you will begin dropping these transmitters. One after the other every fifty kilometers. The fighter crafts behind you will have a very clear path to follow, and because the transmission signal extends in such a small area, there’s no way the craft you are pursuing will realize we’re coming, unless they double back. We don't anticipate this.”
Bewildered looks filled the pilots' faces. Oscar Theodor raised his hand once again.
“Yes, Officer Theodor?”
“Given the device’s narrow range, how many of them will we carry on each ship?”
“One thousand five hundred of the Breadcrumbs fit into a single missile tube. At this moment, all the missile tubes in your fighter crafts are being filled with these devices.”
The bewildered looks turned downright hostile. Oscar Theodor noted the sour mood spreading like a thick fog. He worried his underlings might say something untoward.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Theodor continued. Though he tried his best to maintain a respectful tone, it was difficult to hide the bitterness from his voice. “Do you mean to send us after these hostiles unarmed?”
General Jurgens took several seconds before answering.
“Your ships’ offensive weaponry will be limited to laser cannons,” he acknowledged. “But you will have backup. Each of your fighter crafts will be assigned a squad of Blue Rogue officers. It is our hope the Blue Rogues unique skills will not, in the end, be needed. But if they are, you can rest assured you’ll be in good hands. I know it’ll be a tight fit, but I’m sure you’ll make them comfortable.”
General Jurgens pressed a button on the table and the diagram of the Breadcrumb was replaced by several blips.
“These blips indicate the various points your squads are to be positioned in the next hour. Where we go from there, as well as the particulars of your mission, will be revealed by the Blue Rogue commander in each of your ships. In lieu of any direct orders from me, you will follow the Blue Rogue commander’s orders to the letter. Any deviation will be met with punishment. Is that understood?”
“Yes sir,” the squad group replied in unison.
“Good,” General Jurgens said. “Now let’s get to it.”
It took the full half-hour for Cer and B’taav to transfer the material from the storage room to the Xendos. When they were done, they met up with Dave Maddox in the cockpit of the ship and, for one last time, checked their instrumentation. Maddox sat in the engineer’s seat.
“Is everything ready?” he asked.
“Ship’s engines and computer systems are online and functioning,” B’taav said. “We cleaned out all usable spare parts and they’re tucked into the ship’s cargo bay. We’re just waiting for our route."
“We’ll get that soon enough,” Maddox said.
The bartender was true to his word. Only seconds later, the cockpit door opened and Ned Frasier stepped in. As always, he was dressed in immaculate white and, like the other passengers, appeared exhausted. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a shiny metal disk and handed it to Inquisitor Cer.
“On the disk is all the information we could draw from the probe Kelly Lang found. If this information isn’t accurate, all our efforts will prove a colossal waste of time.”
Inquisitor Cer slid the disk into the navigational system and uploaded it into the computer. The general location of the Argus was listed as seven months full speed flight from their current location.
“We barely have enough supplies to get there, and certainly not enough to get back,” B’taav said. “Is this a one way trip?”
“You forget, everything within the Erebus system is in motion,” Frasier said. “The location you are reading is our estimate of the original position of the Argus following the explosion.” The exhaustion on his face gave way to melancholia. “A...companion of mine and I made a detailed study of the asteroid migration. We examined the position the probe thought it was at, based on its final telemetry readings before its computers lost power, versus where Lang picked her up. Those readings allowed us to project an estimate of where the Argus is currently located, give or take a couple thousand kilometers.”
Frasier reached between B’taav and Cer and pressed a series of buttons on the Nav Computer. A red sphere appeared in the schematic.
“That is our destination.”
“It's an awfully big area,” the Independent said.
“Yes,” Frasier acknowledged. “But its outer edges lay no more than a week’s travel from here, versus seven months. We will undoubtedly spend some time searching for the ship once we get there. But if things work out, it shouldn’t take us very long. Who knows, we might even get lucky and find her right away.”
Frasier rubbed his eyes. He returned to the door leading out of the cockpit and eyed his wristwatch.
“I’ll help with the navigation but for the next few days, when Daniels’ boys are closest to us, I’ll leave the flying to you two. When we’ve gained enough distance, we’ll plot our search pattern. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Of course,” B’taav said. “My compliments on your estimates. You –and your companion– did a good job.”
Frasier attempted a smile, but could only manage a slight nod.
“Let’s get moving,” Frasier muttered. His voice cracked with emotion. He stepped out of the cockpit.
B’taav and Inquisitor Cer looked at each other. Despite their glacial stares, there was a hint of anticipation.
B’taav flicked the intercom switch and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be lifting off in five minutes. Make sure your seats are locked in an upright position and your seatbelts are on. All belongings should be stored in the upper compartment. We’re in for a very bumpy ride.”
Oscar Theodor swore as he steered his fighter off the Dakota’s flight deck and into space. The lower compartment, where his crewmates waited for their shifts, was now crammed with twenty Blue Rogue troopers. Worse, in the very brief time they were together, prepping for lift off, it was clear neither group would get along.
Well that’s too bad, Theodor thought. We’re all one big happy family even if we’ve been ordered to be glorified escorts to— Theodor frowned. —to wherever the hell we’re supposed to be going.
Theodor recalled the fearsome weapons the Blue Rogues carried. He didn’t envy anyone who had to go up against that.
Theodor banked the craft to the right, away from the Dakota, and entered the asteroid field. The other fighter crafts of his squad spread out and hit their afterburners. In a few minutes they’d be locked into their positions and, in another few hours, they’d be sitting around in that asteroid field looking for the slightest movement.
And when they spotted it—
Theodor shook his head. He again recalled the Blue Rogues’ fearsome weapons.
I guess we’ll find that out when it happens.
He gunned the fighter craft’s engine and steered to his assigned position.
Inquisitor Cer pressed a series of buttons and the gravity controls within the base shut down. Another flick of her wrist and the internal lights, the life support systems, and all remaining ancillary systems within the base shut down.
B’taav gently pushed the joystick before him and set off a small thrust under the Xendos. The ancient ship rose from her two hundred-year cradle.
“Decompression complete.”
“Opening the outer doors.”
Inquisitor Cer pressed a small green button in the center of the computer controls and looked up at the view screen.
The large outer door of the asteroid peeled away, revealing the darkness of space. In the near-distance floated several dozen other asteroids. A couple of them moved along as if they were orange clouds in a black sky.
It took a minute for the base door to fully open. When it was locked in place, B’taav pressed a button on the central panel.
“Get ready,” he said. “Because here we go.”
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
The first hour after departing the Phaecian asteroid base proved the tensest aboard the Xendos.
B’taav, Inquisitor Cer, and Dave Maddox stared out their windows while keeping a close watch of the ship’s delicate internal instruments. B’taav and Cer were confident of their repairs but knew the ship’s age and condition guaranteed things would not always run smoothly.
With the passage of time, B’taav’s worries eased and his focus turned more to the asteroid field.
“We’re doing well so far,” he said. “Better than we had any right to expect.”
“Agreed,” Inquisitor Cer replied. “I haven’t seen any sign of Daniels’ fighter crafts.”
“Is it possible they gave up?” Maddox said.
“I wouldn't count on...Look!”
Inquisitor Cer pointed out the window and to B’taav’s left.
B’taav followed her gaze. Far, far away in the distance was what appeared to be a metallic object. Its surface reflected faint starlight.
“That answers your question,” B’taav said. He pressed down on the controls and maneuvered the ship between a cluster of asteroids. When the ship was hidden from sight, B’taav eased on the accelerator.
“Did they see us?” Maddox asked.
“No idea,” B’taav said. He accelerated the ship, until she shot around the asteroids and skipped to another group of rocks farther in the distance. “If they did, they’ll be coming in.” He faced Inquisitor Cer. “We should make a run for it. But I don’t know if the engine will take that strain.”
“One of us should watch it, just in case.”