by Dan Davis
“Yes. Sir.” He was breathing hard and his voice was shaking from the cold and the absolute terror he must have been feeling while the last of the air rushed out of the huge shuttle bay and out into space. Harada was probably staring out at the black abyss widening under the wheels of the shuttle.
The Victory rocked and dipped in a gut wrenching lurch, followed by another. Bringing the Lepus out of a ship which was maneuvering so violently could easily end in disaster. Once released from the docking clamps holding her to the ceiling of the bay, any sudden change in velocity would smash the shuttle against a wall or on the rim on their way out.
“Sheila, if you’re there, please respond, I need you.” While Kat spoke, she worked to bring the RCS thrusters up to an even 1% thrust from all axis.
No response from the bloody useless AI but the dumb autopilot backup was functional so that would have to do.
Crewman Harada’ teeth chattered in her ear. “Bay. Doors.” He mumbled something she could not make out but checked the feed.
“Doors are fully open, get in here now, Harada. Now, now, now, come on. Move it.”
She watched as he dragged himself out of the access hatch with infuriating stiffness, like he was a thousand years old. The ship rocked again, the sounds of firing thrumming through the hull and the engines thrust, hard.
The sudden acceleration pinned her into her seat. Must have been well over 1g. Too fast. Changing the velocity of the Victory so aggressively put thousands of tons of superstructure under enormous stresses and the sound of it vibrated through the docking clamps joining the top of the shuttle to the shuttle bay. The screeching of alloy tearing apart and rapid bangs scared her. It felt like the Victory must be coming apart.
An ERANS fear spiral. The anxiety could speed up her perception so much that it gave her more time to experience the fear, to delve into the terror so deeply that it led to more anxiety which would extend her subjective perception of the passage of time. It could be paralyzing. It was suspected to be a factor in the deaths of at least three pilots in the ERANS experiment she had volunteered for, all those years ago. Trouble was, knowing the danger of a fear spiral simply added to it. Only—
They were hit. A kinetic or explosive weapon of enormous power impacting the hull. The Victory boomed, a long, low shockwave spreading along the ship. The acceleration eased off, stopped.
Snap out of it.
Checking the camera feeds, she watched debris, illuminated by her lights, flying about inside the shuttle bay. Crewman Harada was nowhere to be seen. Crushed against a wall or flung out into space. She had to get out of the Victory, now. Harada was gone and she could not wait for him.
Kat punched the controls for the two docking clamps that held the shuttle in place from two arms above. The locking mechanism for those clamps were part of the Lepus itself and they thumped open. She heard them, felt them, over the sound and feeling of the ship around them resounding to blasts and impacts.
While the ship lurched unpredictably, there was no way to know when the best moment to attempt the exit would be. So she thrust down at maximum power. Her shuttle leaped at her command, slipping through the shuttle bay doors and out into space.
Above, the Victory rotated slowly in a cloud of debris. Warning lights light up all around, the alarms sounding, everything moving at a fraction of normal speed. Slow enough for her to make out proximity warning alarms on every side and at every distance, radiation alarms detecting a soup of dangerous particles smashing into the hull, infrared sensors bleating about hot gases and plasmas burning within range and moving unpredictably.
She could be hit at any moment. A chain of nuclear warheads had been detonated nearby, just thousands of kilometers away and the space all around was screeching with lead slugs and whatever the hell insane radiation, electromagnetic pulse, alien death ray shit the alien weapon fired.
The shuttle drifted away. The random timing of her exit had at least thrown her away from the encounter, she hoped, and off into space. But their route would take them across Arcadia’s orbit. With a minor adjustment, she could swing wide around the planet and burn toward the Sentinel, away from the alien ship.
They were out there. Somewhere beyond the twisted, burning wreckage of the Victory was the wheelhunter warship. Her equipment was overwhelmed by noise and Sheila wasn’t there to process it, filter it out and so Kat had no idea if the alien ship was operational or if the Victory had taken out the enemy before she had been destroyed herself. And her ship certainly seemed finished. The engines were not firing. The ship had come apart in more than one place and entire ring sections were spinning away from the core, which seemed snapped in two. Kat’s home. For years, all she had known. Everyone she knew.
Her system was unable to detect escape capsules amongst the debris. Maybe, she thought, the wheelhunters had taken out the escape pods with their weapons.
Now, she had a choice to make. Whether to start her main engines and burn hard away, either for the planet or out to where the Stalwart Sentinel was coming in. She had fuel enough to get halfway across the system so her options were open in that regard. The Captain had ordered her to get the data block data to Admiral Howe so they would know about the range and nature of the particle beam weapon, or whatever it was. But Kat was aware that the Sentinel was travelling at enormous speed and even though it was supposed to be slowing down, for all she knew they would fly by Arcadia without entering orbit. If she was in charge of that ship, or any warship, she would accelerate past her target as fast as she could while shooting everything she had during the pass.
Yeah and that’s why you’ll never be a captain, or even a commander, let alone an admiral. You’re just a pilot. You don’t know shit.
Then again, all she had to do was send a message. If she was away from all the debris and interference she could boost power to the communications and send the information.
If the wheelhunters detected it, the shuttle would end up toast. But she had her orders.
On the other hand, she had a passenger compartment full of VIPs who needed to get to the surface. She could land them there and use the outpost’s massive aerial and their massive power output to get the message to the Sentinel. Assuming the outpost was still there and that she would make it to the surface.
Starting her engines would alert the wheelhunters to her presence. While she drifted away from the wreckage of the Victory, there was always the chance— a slim chance— that the aliens would believe the shuttle was no more than a chunk of the mother ship. A piece of debris approximately half the size of one of the ring sections. Even if they recognized in the wings the shape of an atmospheric craft, as long as they showed no signs of life, they might just let her go.
Probably what she should do was drift for a while. Drift for a day or even two days, depending on the Sentinel’s speed and how quickly it came within range. The Lepus had the fuel, the food. Enough for weeks. The passengers would hate it. Some would order her to land on Arcadia and others perhaps would order her toward the Sentinel but she could deal with the VIPs. Then, when Admiral Howe was close enough she would send the message about the alien weapon and then burn for all she was worth. Maybe the wheelers would leave her alone to focus on the real danger and then she could land at the outpost. If she burned for the Sentinel right away, the alien ship would see her, would take her out for sure.
She wished Sheila was operational. She wanted someone to run her ideas—
Impact.
Something hit the shuttle. A strike powerful enough to send her into a twisting spin. A very unpleasant rotation. The cries of the passengers came through on her smart comms system, the idiot backup for the AI assuming she would want to know they were terrified. She shut the stupid thing off.
What had hit her? Debris? An alien weapon? The sensors and alarms overwhelmed her, even with the ERANS.
She checked her trajectory. They were now tumbling directly into the path of Arcadia. Hitting the atmosphere dead on at current speeds would
smash her shuttle to bits and incinerate those pieces before they reached the surface. Her course had to be adjusted.
She would go with plan B after all. Burn for the planet and use the outpost comms system to warn the Sentinel.
And if they had targeted her, she had to get away, fast. She used the RCS thrusters to point the right way so they would enter the atmosphere at a survival angle and fired the main engines.
A red light on the power console grew from a pin prick width stream of photons into a torrent, a flare of neon crimson glaring in the corner of her eye before it faded into a dribble again, then grew back into a swelling glow of red.
Warning. Warning.
Power transmission failure to main engines.
Shit.
CHAPTER NINE
“No sir,” Sergeant Stirling had said. “We’re going to help you.”
Private Flores had shut the door to the empty lab and the rest of F Team settled and spoke in low voices. Ram hoped there was no one awake nearby but most of those on watch would be active or even patrolling outside. Civilians and Marines not on watch would hopefully be asleep in their own designated sleeping areas of the outpost.
Leaning his armored ass against a groaning bench, Ram tried to calm his excitement and his fear. This was an opportunity for him to recruit six Marines to help him rescue Milena. On the other hand, Ensign Tseng glared at him and Ram was aware of the risk to him if he took a misstep in the next few minutes. If any one of the team were to report him, he might be locked up by Captain Cassidy.
“You want to help me rescue the prisoners?” Ram asked Sergeant Stirling.
Sneaking out the outpost alone would be possible, Ram knew. Sneaking the entire team out would be more difficult.
“That we do, sir. And that we will, sir.” Stirling said, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
“Stop addressing him as an officer,” Ensign Tseng said.
Stirling frowned. “But he—”
“He’s officially a civilian and he is not in receipt of any commission.”
Harris spoke up, fixing the ensign with a stare. “Addressing a civilian in that manner is a matter of convention, Ensign Tseng.”
Tseng took a deep breath and Ram sensed an argument coming.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ram said, irritated. “Call me what you like, call me anything, or nothing. I don’t care. But I don’t have time for any debates. Those people are prisoners and every hour they stay that way, the more likely it is they all end up dead. Help me or let me go, now.”
“You’ll accept what help you’re given,” Tseng said, straightening up, “and you’ll be grateful that we do not turn you in for going AWOL.”
Ram turned on him. “I’m not a Marine, you said so yourself. I can’t go AWOL. I never volunteered for anything.”
The Marines looked at each other.
“Well, that all depends how you look at it, don’t it, sir,” Harris said. “Like with—” Cooper kicked Harris in the shin and he stopped whatever he was going to say.
“Be that as it may,” Ensign Tseng said. “You will be punished if you run off without orders, whatever your status. Either by Zuma or by Cassidy.”
Ram knew the team were all in trouble with Cassidy already. Sifa said they were all taken off of active duty and had only been armed out of desperation. But Ram hoped that with a little nudge, they would explain exactly what their status was.
“They don’t scare me,” Ram said, although both Zuma and Cassidy did, in a way. “But all of you could be punished if you helped me get away. Why would you do that? Your careers would be over.”
“Our careers are all over as it is,” Flores said, grinning. She seemed young.
“Speak for yourself,” Tseng said. “My own has suffered a temporary, though admittedly severe, retardation. Once the Corps leadership on the Sentinel gets here, I will be reinstated. Colonel Mathieson holds me in high regard and he will overrule Cassidy. I have no doubt. None at all.”
Flores giggled and Cooper laughed. Corporal Fury appeared to be asleep.
“It is the truth,” Tseng said, scowling. “Your imbecilic giggling is unbecoming. You may feel your careers are over, you are still Marines. Act like it.”
Cooper and Flores controlled themselves, while Harris performed a theatrical bow. “We have all been designated unfit for duty,” Harris said. “Psychologically, you understand. We discussed it and we are willing to take whatever punishment Cassidy and that bastard Gruger dish out.”
Ram looked down at the Marines around him. They were all crazy?
Great. My allies.
“We’ll show them what happens when they treat us like shit,” Cooper said, eyes wide. “We’ll treat them like shit right back.”
“Yeah,” Flores said, nodding frantically. “Yeah. Right, Fury?” She nudged the old Marine, slumped against a lab bench leg, with her foot.
Corporal Fury woke up for a moment. “Sure,” she said, scratching her nose. “We’ll do that.” Fury closed her eyes again.
“No,” Stirling said. “This isn’t about punishments or revenge. This is about doing what’s right. They took our people. If it was any of us out there, we would expect to be rescued. No matter what. This is a matter of principle. Captain Cassidy says going after them is bound to fail and losing Marines in the attempt would only weaken the position here. Maybe he’s right. And he’s in command and he has to look at the big picture, of course he does. But this is one of those times when you have to decide what being human really means. Why even bother surviving out here in a new star system if we don’t look after our own? Why bother taking this planet if we’re going to be the kind of people who abandon each other? It’s the principle of the thing. It’s the principle, even if that means breaking our oaths and disobeying orders. Even if it proves to the Captain that we are what him and Gruger claim that we are, it doesn’t matter. It’s the right thing to do. That’s why.”
Rama nodded. “I feel the same way.”
Tseng scoffed. “It’s easy to have such noble sentiments but if you were in command, you would know the burden of sacrificing your personal honor for the greater good.”
“That right, sir?” Stirling said. “Why did you say you’d come with us, then?”
The ensign hesitated.
“Wait,” Ram said, excitement rising up into his throat. “Come with us? You’re going to come with me? Not just help me to get away but come with me, to fight?”
Stirling nodded. “All the way, sir. All the way.”
Flores jumped up and unlocked a row of low storage lockers under the bench she sat on.
They had already prepared for the expedition. The team had begged, borrowed and stolen masses of rations, water, extra ammunition, batteries, medical supplies and oxygen capsules for the mission. With all these items in limited supply on the surface, it was an impressive feat for such a short time. No doubt, some of the equipment would soon be missed and questions would be asked.
“I don’t know what to say,” Ram said, heart thumping in his chest. “I’m impressed. But I assume some of this stuff will be missed? Questions asked?”
“Yes,” Tseng said.
“No, sir,” Stirling said. “No one knows where anything is right now. It’s disorganized.”
“Alright, good. That’s a lot of equipment to carry,” Ram said.
“Not for you,” Harris said. “You can march nonstop for days with a hundred kilos on your back.”
Ram nodded. “We’ll have to outrun anyone sent after us. And we’ll have to bring our people back from the alien base while being pursued, in all likelihood.”
“I see what you’re saying,” Sergeant Stirling said. “And we have discussed it.”
“No,” Ensign Tseng said. “Certainly not. I will not allow it.”
“We will need the ETATs,” Ram said. “Without them, there’s no point in going at all. You should just call it off, if that’s how you feel.”
“Please, sir,” Flores
said. “Fury, tell the officer we need the vehicles.”
Fury stayed asleep.
“I can allow that the outpost will survive without my team,” Tseng said. “But I will not deprive our company of vital materiel.”
“They’re barely using them, sir,” Stirling said. “They’re just sitting there, half the time.”
“The ETATs are utilized for long range patrols,” Tseng pointed out. “We simply cannot take them.”
“What if we just take one, sir?” Stirling said.
Tseng pursed his lips. “I am willing to discuss compromises. What about if we take the bulldozer? If we remove the ballast rocks and perhaps modify the gearbox, we could get up to quite a decent clip. Ten klicks per hour, perhaps.”
Stirling blinked a few times. “The bulldozer, sir? Take the bulldozer on a raid, sir?”
“A rescue mission, Sergeant Stirling. Not a raid,” Tseng said. “All we require is a means of transport for the gear and for the wounded, once we extract them. The bulldozer would do the job.”
Ram thought it wasn’t the worst idea ever but there was something else on his mind. “That would deprive them the ability to construct the defenses, Ensign Tseng. We need to take the ETATs, both of them, even if it’s just so they don’t follow us and catch us up.” Stirling nodded while Ram explained to the rest of them. “If we go on foot or in the bulldozer, they’ll just catch us in the ETATs and bring us back. We have to take them or we should forget the whole thing.”
I will have to sabotage one and steal the other myself.
“What if we just disable the ETATs, sir?” Flores asked. “Damage the units. I don’t know.”
“Slash the tires, Flores?” Harris asked, grinning.
“Bury the batteries?” Cooper said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Harris said. “They’re standard units, do you know how many battery blocks they have in store?”