by James Palmer
Alliance Starship Pegasus
Lieutenant Marc Allen stared at the Scavenger ships approaching the Pegasus.
He did not recognize the designs on a majority of the ships, but that really wasn’t a surprise. Most Scavenger vessels were cobbled together from spare parts for dozens of other ships. Not the prettiest things in the sky, he decided. But still just as deadly.
He watched them come closer on the forward viewer, all the while, feeling helpless.
“Incoming!” Andersen called out. “The vessels have opened fire on us.”
“Give me the bullet.”
“Multiple bogeys. Coming in fast!”
Lt. Allen stared at the missiles bearing down on them. “Oh God,” he whispered in desperation. “Captain...”
“What do we do?” Andersen asked.
“Shield status?”
“No shields,” the science officer reported. “If those things hit us…”
“Understood.” Lt. Allen felt the weight of command. The pressure was more than he wanted to endure, but there was no one else. He had to take control. “Sound collision and put me on speakers.”
An alarm sounded throughout the ship, a shrill blaring sound. “Go!”
“All hands, brace for impact! Brace! Brace! Brace!”
The channel closed, he followed the missile’s trajectory. As they drew closer they appeared to grow larger in scope. He could not take his eyes off of them. They were bringing death to this valiant crew yet he could not force himself to look away. Like a deer caught in headlights he was riveted, unable to tear his eyes from the missiles no matter how much he wanted to.
He grabbed the station in front of him, bracing for impact.
Then, in a brilliant flash of light, a larger ship appeared before his eyes. It’s bulk filled the entire view screen, effectively blotting out the expanse of space that had filled it only seconds before.
“What the hell?”
“It’s an Alliance ship,” Andersen shouted.
The ship’s flight path brought it along the front of the Pegasus’ frame, inserting itself between Pegasus and the missiles. The ship was only slightly larger than the Pegasus, but that did not diminish the new arrival in any way.
The Bounty’s Pride absorbed the brunt of the missiles, its shields deflecting and absorbing most of the damage.
Only three missiles managed to pass the new arrival, exploding on impact with the already incapacitated Pegasus.
Marshal’s Office Starship Bounty’s Pride
“Impact in three seconds!”
Natalie’s warning was barely audible over the din around the bridge. Instincts kicked in and she grabbed hold of her console for support, bracing for impact.
“Two!”
She spared a glance at her father as he made calculations on the console at his side. He looked up for the briefest of seconds and their eyes locked. There was great love between the two of them. One look said everything that needed to be said.
“One!” Natalie shouted, closing her eyes and awaiting the inevitable.
Impact.
The ship shuddered with the first detonation. The lights flickered as thunder reverberated throughout the entire ship. The shields absorbed the brunt of the blast, but not all of it. Then, just as the worst of it died down, the second volley struck the ship’s shields, starting the process all over again.
All they could do was hold on for dear life.
Sparks rained across the damaged sections of the bridge, throwing odd shadows around the room. The marshal was thrown from his command chair to the deck near Natalie, who he instinctively grabbed hold of as paternal instincts sought his daughter’s safety before his own.
The bridge of the Bounty’s Pride went dark, save for the bright sparks showering from all over the bridge.
“Report,” the marshal intoned, his deep voice cutting through the noise all around him.
As if in response to the marshal’s query, the back up system kicked in, returning light and power to the bridge. Several computer screens flickered, returning to life.
“How did the Pegasus fare?” he asked, getting to his feet.
“Minimal damage. A couple of the missiles got by us, but they’re in one piece,” Natalie read from her screen. “At least for now,” she added under her breath.
“Good. Can we get in contact with the Pegasus’ Captain?” The marshal held his left arm, sore from where it slammed against the bulkhead during the attack. Thankfully, it was not broken so he would live.
“Her name is Virginia Harmon,” Natalie supplied.
“Right. Captain Harmon.”
“No good, Marshal,” she announced over the noise of the damaged bridge. “There seems to be a large radiation field covering most of the area surrounding the space station and the Pegasus.”
“How?” he asked. “Where did it come from? What caused it? A natural occurrence?”
So many questions asked, but Natalie had no answers for her father. “Something is definitely weird about this situation, boss,” she said. “It’s nothing I can quite put my finger on, though.”
“What could cause this kind of disruption?”
“I’m not sure exactly what caused it, nut it had to have happened recently. I’d guess within the last couple of hours or so.”
“Prepare a shuttle. Have Mr. Freeman go over to the Pegasus and render aid.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And send the rest of the fleet on to Space lab. Those ships are not to get to Earth. Understood?”
“Yes, Marshal,” Natalie responded.
“Now to tend to our wounds. Mr. Walker, I need good news.”
“We should have weapons capabilities. Those systems are showing nearly full power, but the engines took a jolt. They are in restart mode now. I’ll know for sure in just a moment.”
“Make it a short moment.”
Several technicians scurried about the bridge, doing their best to contain the sporadic fires and repair critical systems. Only one system was critical to the marshal at the moment, however.
He turned his full attention once again to the Pegasus. “Mr. Walker. Do we have maneuvering capabilities?”
“Standby,” Walker said.
“They will, no doubt, find the lead ship of the fleet a tempting target.”
“I’m sure they would, sir,” Walker said as he crawled beneath his pilot station, rewiring the console.
“I’d really rather not give those scavenging bastards any sort of satisfaction. This isn’t over yet.”
“No sir. Not yet.” Chris Walker allowed half a second to flash his commander a brief hint of understanding. Lt. Walker was good at what he did, but just being ‘good’ was never good enough for a good commanding officer.
“Tick, tock,” Chris. I need those engines.”
“Understood, Marshal,” he replied between bursts of sparks from a loose conduit. “Give me a moment.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Walker. Weapons control?”
No response.
He asked again. “Weapons?”
Still nothing.
“Where is the weapons officer?” Before he was fully aware that he had moved, the marshal leapt over the weapons console only to find the officer on duty there lying face up on the cold steel deck.
He felt for a pulse.
There was none.
Officer Dannette Seally was dead. The Scavenger’s missiles had claimed their first victim. Marshal Vortex took half a second to mourn her passing. He had not known her as well as Chris Walker, or Dexter, or Grady, but she had been a good officer, always committed to her duties, never complaining, never questioning. A perfect soldier.
Now, thanks to the Scavengers, a perfectly dead soldier.
He motioned for one of the ship’s technicians to move the body out of the immediate way. Unfortunately, there was no time to move her to the infirmary, not that there was any chances she could be saved. She was too far gone for that.
The
marshal moved behind Officer Seally’s vacant weapon’s console and pulled up a weapon’s status report. The board showed all green, as Mr. Walker had mentioned earlier.
Weapons were ready to fire.
“Mr. Walker?” He turned toward his pilot. “Time’s up. Are you ready?”
“Yes, sir, Marshal. Ready when you give the word.”
“Consider it given. Natalie?”
“Sir?”
“Is there a shuttle available to transport over to the Pegasus?”
“Yes sir. Dexter is on board. Ready to depart. He anticipated your need for his services and volunteered before I could ask.”
“Good. Natalie, tell Mr. Freeman he has to get that ship under control or evacuate it. Tell him it’s his call. I’ll back any decision he makes, but his first priority is to find Captain Harmon and make sure she’s okay. Then, after assessing the situation, he can proceed as he sees fit. And tell him to hurry!”
“Transmitting now. Dexter has responded. Affirmative.”
“Weapons powered and ready,” he said to Mr. Walker. “On my mark, Chris.”
“Awaiting your command, boss.”
“Shuttle launched,” Natalie announced. She held her breath as the shuttle streaked away from the Bounty’s Pride. After Dexter Freeman piloted his way free of the confines of the ship, Natalie Vortex let loose the breath she had been holding.
“Dexter is away,” she announced. “He’ll dock with Pegasus in two minutes. The Scavenger ships are not pursuing. I’m not sure why.”
“Either they didn’t notice his launch or they don’t want to risk it.”
“The shuttle is between us and the Pegasus, out of the line of fire.”
“Very good, Nat,” the marshal said. Having taken over the weapons console, he was prepped and ready.
“Mr. Walker. In two minutes, we move. Understood?”
“No problem on this end, Marshal.”
“Natalie, let me know as soon as Dexter is safely aboard.”
“You got it.”
“You’ll give the signal to go.”
“One minute, forty-five seconds,” she called.
The countdown had begun.
Marshal’s Office Shuttle
Deputy Marshal Dexter Freeman pilots his shuttle in a wide arc.
His route from the Bounty’s Pride to the Pegasus would take him around the far side of the marshal’s ship, leaving him vulnerable for ten seconds after launch. Once he made his turn, the Pride’s bulk would shield him from any Scavenger vessels that might find a small military shuttle a perfect target for them.
“Freeman to Bounty’s Pride,” Dexter checked in once he was in the glide path. “Estimate docking with Pegasus in one minute twenty three seconds. Stand by.”
Natalie Vortex’s soft voice confirmed his calculations across the expanding length of space between the two ships. “I read you, Dexter,” she said. “We’ll follow you in and keep your backside clean.”
“Right.” He moved the controls, heading toward the docking port of the Pegasus.
All UPA vessels were equipped with an emergency access docking port on them, one of the more esoteric features developed by Bridger Corporation to ease rescue operations.
Luckily, the few times they had been used, the emergency precautions proved very effective. Evacuation time had been cut nearly in half, thereby saving many lives.
Lucky for him.
Lucky for them all.
“I can see the docking port now,” he told Natalie. “It looks undamaged. Preparing for dock. I’ll check in after I’m safely onboard Pegasus.”
“Be careful, Mr. Freeman.” Not Natalie this time, but her father, Marshal Vortex. “Abort at the first sign of trouble.”
“Will do, Marshal. Freeman out.”
Alliance Starship Pegasus
“Got it!”
Lieutenant Marc Allen snapped his fingers in triumph.
Pulling up information on the radio frequency surrounding the Pegasus had uncovered some startling information. Only one signal, aside from the one the captain had managed to send from Space Lab earlier, had been able to break through the radiation field surrounding the ship.
Excited by this new development, he requested a location and frequency of that signal. The computer slowly cycled through its memory banks. Much too slow for Mr. Allen’s tastes, but he was thankful that something still worked on the ship.
After what felt like an eternity, a name and location popped up.
“My God,” Lt. Allen felt rage build in his chest.
A name appeared on the screen.
A familiar name.
Lt. Allen knew the identity of the saboteur. Now that he had a name, he knew it should have been obvious to him. “I should have seen it,” he said.
“Mr. Allen. Look!” The science officer pointed to the main screen as a small shuttle arced away from the Alliance ship that had saved the Pegasus and her crew only moments ago. The shuttle’s trajectory put it on course for the emergency docking port, port side, on the far side of the Pegasus.
“He’s heading for the evacuation port,” Allen said. “I’ll meet them there. You have the bridge, Lt. Andersen. Try and hold things together until I get back.” With that, Allen exited the bridge, leaving only the young, inexperienced science officer and a temporary communications officer in control of the ship. The young man’s face locked on an expression of dismay as if he could not believe the interim captain’s order.
Exiting from the elevator on level four, Allen ran to meet the incoming shuttle at a full clip. Rounding the corner of corridor B-12, he sprinted off in the other direction. Time was of the essence. He stopped at the hatch to the docking port and watched as the outer door cycled open.
A five-person team stepped into the inner airlock. The air was automatically recycled and within seconds the inner door opened and the new arrivals stepped onto the Pegasus.
Lt. Allen welcomed them.
“Where is Captain Harmon?” the leader of the team asked. He was tall, dark skinned, with a deep and authoritative voice.
After introductions were made, Lt. Allen filled the taller gentleman in on the events of the past few hours, including the fact that Captain Harmon had taken a shuttle over to Space Lab in hopes of finding survivors.
He also told of his discovery of a saboteur aboard the Pegasus and how he had deduced the identity of the person only moments before the shuttle docked.
“Alright, here’s the plan,” Deputy Dexter Freeman said. “Lt. Allen and Mr. Fredricks will accompany me and Engineer Shepard to the Engineering section.”
He pointed to the other two officers that arrived with him. “Jones and Bondeski, you two will head it to the bridge and take command of this vessel.”
“I’ve left Lt. Andersen in command until my return. She’ll be easy to find,” Allen said.
“How’s that?”
“There’s only two people on the bridge.”
“Double time it,” Freeman said.
“Use the signal Lt. Allen discovered and get in touch with the marshal. Appraise him of our situation. Move out.”
The group dissolved into two smaller groups, each set heading off to their individual destinations. Lt. Allen felt his heart pumping as they raced headlong through the bowels of the Pegasus toward Engineering.
Knowing that the deputy marshals would be in command on the bridge did not hurt him either. He had been afraid to leave the bridge before, but now that they had backup, things would be under control.
More or less.
43
Alliance Starship Ulysis
The elevator doors opened with an inaudible hiss.
The two men stepped from the safety of the lift car onto the bridge of the Ulysis. Captain William Andrews, followed closely by Admiral James McKeen made a beeline for the captain’s station, currently occupied by Lt. Commander Andrea Hall.
Without a word or preamble, the young woman gracefully vacated the position. The captain re
claimed his place as the commander of the vessel. He motioned for the admiral to take a seat off to the side of the captain’s control station.
The admiral accepted the offered chair as the captain began issuing orders to his bridge crew.
Lt. Commander Hall noted that both men had looked better in their day. They looked as if they had been in one mother of a bar brawl. Both were bruised and battered, but the admiral had apparently taken the brunt of the damage.
His prosthetic faceplate was damaged, dents dotting its one smooth surface. His face and uniform were bloodied, and the older man walked with a slight limp favoring his left leg, which he tried, of course. However, Commander Hall recognized it immediately upon the older man’s entrance on to the bridge.
The admiral caught a glimpse of her watching him and craned his neck to get a better view of her.
Embarrassed, she a lump growing in her throat. Now is probably not the best time to be reprimanded, she decided.
“You should have seen the other guy,” he finally said, offering her a painful wink.
Nothing like trying to hide the pain, she thought. She admired the man, both of them actually. She hoped to one day be the type of officer that these two had become. The admiral is definitely a unique individual. Embarrassed, she responded with a slight, almost sheepish smile, which the older man returned.
“Get us back to full power,” Captain Andrews ordered the pilots. “We’ve got a date at Space Lab.”
The captain’s orders were carried out, accompanied by a few “yes, sirs” and the assorted sounds of computerized controls chirping and beeping in accordance with the crew’s input. The captain was all business.
“Commander Hall,” he called, not looking in her direction. “Get someone from medical up here to take a look at the admiral.”
“Aye, Captain,” she said, watching as the superior officer started protest only to be silenced by a curt look from the captain. The admiral simply nodded, surrendering to the wisdom of the Ulysis’ captain. She decided this was not a new argument. The admiral was most fortunate that Captain Andrews even let him on the bridge in his present condition. Although, she doubted there was much he could have done to keep the admiral away if he protested.