by G J Ogden
“Yes, sir…” said Aster, attempting to straighten up as if to attention. “I’ll try sir.”
Maria glanced back at Diana, wondering why she had not stepped in, or perhaps hoping she would, but Diana’s eyes simply urged Maria to continue, and with a gentle bow of the head, she offered encouragement. Maria knew what Diana was urging her to do, and her mouth went dry. She swallowed hard and then turned back to face Aster. She was not good at this; it had always been her old partner, Chris Kurren, who was the people person; the one who was able to inspire and give the motivational talks. He had the charisma for it; something his tyrannical older brother sorely lacked. Maria, also, had no talent for it; but on this occasion, there was only her.
“Look, Aster…” Maria began, consciously trying to soften her voice and relax her stance. Then she paused and started again, “Jason…”
Aster raised his head and met Maria’s eyes. “I didn’t know if you remembered me.”
“I may not have been the greatest flight instructor in the UEC, but I remember all of my intakes,” said Maria. “You always had a natural feel for flying, and you worked hard. You were a good student.” Maria could see the muscles in Aster’s face relax and the tension in his shoulders ease off as she said this. “But right now, you’re like an exposed, raw nerve. You have got to pull it together, Jason, because we need you. Do you understand?”
Aster nodded. “I understand, sir. I’m sorry.”
“I’ve known Kira for over ten years, so don’t for one second think I’m not hurting right now,” said Maria. Aster’s face flushed pink and he looked down at his boots. “I promise you this; if there’s even the slightest chance she’s still alive, we’ll get her back. Okay?”
This time Aster did straighten to attention, and when he spoke, his voice was assured. “Yes sir, Commander Salus.”
Maria turned back to the console and rested forward on the outer ring. She caught Diana looking at her, and her proud smile said everything.
A rapid chain of alerts chimed on Diana’s panel, which was still logged in with C9 access. She canceled the audible alert and read the message. “It’s a tactical launch alert.”
“From the moon base?” said Maria, stepping to Diana’s side so she could also see the screen.
“Yes, four fighter craft just launched and are heading this way. I’ve just linked in to our Command Information Center.”
“Which spaceport?”
Diana worked the console and brought up a holo display of the launch site, showing the four ships starting their maneuvers towards the space station. She looked up at Maria and her expression was bleak.
“I’m sorry, Maria. They launched from the primary spaceport, government sector.”
Maria’s stomach twisted. It was the same spaceport that they had fled from. Raina’s spaceport. She looked at Aster, and could tell he knew the implications, but this time he held his nerve.
Diana tapped into the space station’s defensive systems and checked the status of each system. As she read, her frown grew deeper and more confused. “It doesn’t make any sense. All our defensive systems are operating normally. Four light fighters don’t stand a chance. It would be like trying to pierce a glass bowl with a toothpick.”
“What about your fighters, why haven’t they launched?” said Aster.
“We only have five fighters in active service now,” explained Diana without looking up from the console. “Once it became clear that the reconciliation process was going to be successful, we began stripping most of them for parts to service and build up our scavenger fleet.”
“You stripped your fighters?” said Aster. “Don’t you think that was a bit hasty?”
Diana lifted her eyes and looked at Aster as if he’d just insulted her mother. “Five fighters are sufficient, considering our perimeter defenses are more than capable of destroying four light attack craft, long before they get close to striking range,” she said, before looking back down at her console.
Maria examined the data on the console, which highlighted the status of the space station’s defenses. Diana was right; the defensive and offensive systems were extensive. She also noted that they had recently added an external sensor net; a grid of drones that formed an interconnected web that could detect a large object passing through, such as a ship, even if it was running silent with its engines and other systems powered down. It was no doubt a response to the stealth boarding of the station’s lower docking ring that she herself had participated in five years before, though that seemed like a lifetime ago now. It was the incident that led to her encounter with Diana and the beginning of the four-year process that General Kurren had just dismantled in a matter of hours. She pushed the memory to a far corner of her mind and focused back on the data. What was clear was that the station was a fortress; it was why the UEC had never managed to destroy it in well over a century of war, and it was why it made no sense that Kurren would attack with just four ships. There was a missing piece to this puzzle, but what that was she could not see.
Suddenly, the main lighting in the operation tower cut out, and the emergency lighting kicked in, casting a soft red glow over everything. Then just as abruptly the auxiliary consoles dotted around the circumference of the circular operations room shut off.
Edgar Tenson stepped back and ran a hand through his hair.
“A power outage? How curious,” he said, more to himself than the others, and then shuffled over to the working central command console to check what had happened. “The main hangar deck lighting has also gone out, but the critical systems, such as the bay door mechanisms and docking systems are active, which means it is only the main grid that has failed.”
“That is strange,” said Diana, switching her console to view the station power systems.
“Why, what’s strange about a power failure?” said Maria, feeling increasingly anxious.
“The main grid is run from the station’s central core,” explained Diana, “The central core is the original reactor system that used to power the entire space station, before we began expanding and building on additional sections. As new wings were built, we extended the grid into these sections to power basic elements such as lighting, but added auxiliary reactors, salvaged from derelict ships or semi-intact refinery nodes to power the more demanding systems, because otherwise the main reactor wouldn’t be able to cope.”
“So, you’re saying the main reactor core has shut down?” said Maria.
Edgar brought up a holo of the space station, showing its network of power distribution nodes and lines, which spread through the station’s sections like the roots of a tree. More than half of these power lines were colored red, and all of them led back to a large chamber at the base of the space station’s huge, cylindrical core pillar. The operations tower was highlighted on the holo and also colored red and flashing ominously.
“It’s not possible,” said Edgar; sweat was beading on his brow. “It looks like the main reactor is failing.”
The commlink on Diana’s panel bleeped aggressively, and Diana answered it. “President Neviah, this is the CIC duty commander. We have a serious incident,” said a voice though the speaker.
“We’ve lost the power grid over here, Commander, can you explain?” said Diana.
“Switch to security holo RP02 to 04,” came the voice through the speaker. “It seems one of the power systems engineers has damaged the primary reactor core, we think intentionally, though we have no idea why. The main distribution node is failing and the reactor is venting coolant.”
Everyone in the room looked at each other, each face as stony white as the others. Diana quickly switched to the security holo feeds that the duty commander had mentioned and sent them to a holo projector in the center console. Bright light flooded the room followed by the three holo feeds from the security cameras. The first showed the primary reactor room with pulsating lights flashing inside the sealed chamber. The reactor sat in the center and was shrouded by a thick white mist o
f vented coolant. The second showed the reactor control room, with a squad of GPS Security Officers working frantically to break open the door to a long access corridor that led to the reactor room. The third showed the corridor, and inside it a man, slumped on the floor. Diana minimized the other two feeds and enhanced the third feed, focusing in on the man. He was alive, but his face and hands looked severely burned and blistered.
“He has sealed himself into the main access corridor and scrambled the door system,” continued the CIC commander. “We’re trying to break in now, but it’s a military-grade scramble. Unless we can get access to the reactor housing, we can’t repair the leak.” The was a chatter of other voices in the background, talking over each urgently. “Please stand by, Madame President…” and then the commlink muted, but remained connected.
Diana ran the man’s face though an ident scan, and the personal details of an unremarkable power systems engineer appeared on-screen. She shook her head, refusing to believe that this was just a freak accident or perhaps a cry for help from a disgruntled engineer. “It’s Kurren, it has to be,” she said, looking up at Maria.
“You mean a saboteur?” said Maria, and Diana nodded.
“We know that he was planning the coup on the moon base for some time,” continued Diana, “and we’ve been running shuttles to and from the station and the moon base for years, especially recently. It’s very possible he managed to get someone on-board.”
Aster stepped forward, “We can hook-in my PVSM and run an ident through the UEC database. With Commander Salus’ access codes, we should be able to find out if he’s one of Kurren’s men.”
“Keep this up and you’ll make captain in no time,” Maria said, smiling. Then she took Aster’s arm and entered her command codes into his PVSM. “Diana, if you can authorize the link to Aster’s PVSM from your console, we’ll be able to access the holo feed remotely.”
They all worked as fast as possible and in less than two minutes they had successfully connected Aster’s PVSM to the GPS security network.
“I’m running the ident scan now,” said Aster, and they all waited. A few seconds later, the scan halted and displayed a single record. Aster pushed it the center console and the military records of Sergeant Robert Lloyd, UEC Security Corp appeared as a holo in front of them.
Maria read the record and then shook her head. “He’s from Kurren’s unit, alright. That bastard is more cunning than I gave him credit for.”
Another alert sounded from Diana’s console and she checked the display urgently. “The power outage has spread to the defense grid,” she said, and then she pounded the console with the palms of her hands in a rare public display of frustration. “Damn that man! Without our defense grid those four fighters are all Kurren needs to destroy this station. We’re powerless to stop them!”
The commlink unmuted and the CIC commander’s voice came over the speaker again. “Madame President, I’m putting the base on alert. We have fighters inbound threatening to destroy the station unless we surrender and return their citizens. We’re trying to launch fighters, but our defense grid is compromised. What should we…” and then the commlink cut out.
“Commander?” said Diana, but the speaker only produced static. Diana checked the commlink systems and tried again. “Commander, are you there?” Again static.
Then an alarm sounded; it was a guttural, angry buzz that pulsed through the operations tower in half-second intervals, shaking the deck plates as if they were being repeatedly struck with a sledgehammer. Through the glass walls they could see the deck crews scrambling to their designated shelters.
Maria looked at Diana and what she saw made her feel afraid. Diana was skilled at masking and manipulating her emotions to the point that most people never really knew what she was thinking. But over the last few years Maria had learned her subtle tells, like the different ways she tilted her head during conversations, or the extra sharpness in her eyes when answering a challenging question. To most people these differences were so subtle as to be imperceptible, but Maria could see through Diana’s mask, and the Diana that was staring at her now was concealing her terror behind the thinnest of veils.
The console chimed another alert, and this time Diana hesitated before checking the message; hovering her finger over the button for a split second, before pressing it. The holo switched to an external display of the space station; several sections were now flashing urgently with warning chevrons layered over them. One chevron was placed on the lower-docking ring; Diana highlighted this and enhanced the readout.
“We can’t launch our fighters,” said Diana, urgently. “The lower dock has lost all power. Even if they forced the doors, we’d be obliterated before they could launch manually.”
A massive vibration rippled through the hangar bay, shaking the tower and twisting the windows so violently that they shattered and fell to the deck, four stories below, scattering out in all directions like a shimmering river of stars. All four of them were thrown to the floor by the power of the vibration, which lingered for several seconds, before subsiding. They could hear screaming outside from the safe zones, a mixture of panic, pain and primal fear.
Aster was on his feet first and went to help Diana. Maria had fallen heavily, but managed to get to her feet next. She rubbed a bruise on the back of her head and steadied herself against the center console, which was still operational. She looked around the room for Tenson, and saw him lying prone, blood seeping from a wound in his head. Aster saw him too, and began to move toward him. “I’ll do what I can for him,” he said to Maria as he passed.
Diana re-activated the console and hurriedly brought up the status display once again. Now instead of a few chevrons, the space station’s systems were covered in them. Diana scrolled from one key system to another, scanning the data, shaking her head more and more as each status update flicked past her eyes. She then switched back to the primary reactor readout and her head fell forward.
“How bad is it?” asked Maria, fearing the worst.
Diana said nothing; her shoulders had slouched forward and her back was arched. It was almost as if she had been knocked unconscious by a blow to the back of her head.
“Diana?” said Maria again. And then with more urgency she repeated the question, “How bad is it?”
Slowly, Diana lifted her head and Maria could see Diana’s eyes were filling; she was forcing back tears through sheer strength of will, but it was clear to Maria that Diana’s near unshakable control was slowly eroding away.
“They don’t need the ships to destroy us anymore.” She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then said with an eerie calm, “The reactor breach cannot be stopped. The station will be destroyed.”
Maria recoiled. “Surely, there’s still a way to stop it? What about the safeguards, or even ejecting the core?”
Diana shook her head. “I’m sorry, Sal. Kurren’s assassin has done his work too well.”
Maria’s mind was in a spin; it seemed so unreal. She was afraid to ask the next question, but it was the only one left to ask. “How long do we have?”
Another violent shimmy shook the tower, knocking them off balance. Maria and Diana managed to stay standing, grabbing onto the console for support, while Aster was thrown over again. A ripple of explosions followed, pummeling the hangar deck, each one sending shock-waves through the tower and into their bones. As the ripples subsided, Aster climbed, unsteadily to his feet, but indicated to Maria that he was okay. Diana ran to the exposed edge of the operations tower and stared out. Below them a fissure had opened in the deck, almost cutting the hangar in two. Diana followed the line to where it exited the hangar, splitting through the bulkhead and exposing the inner section of the adjacent wing; if the fissure had opened along the opposite direction it would have torn open a hole and exposed the hangar bay to the vacuum of space. Water pipes, control consoles and electricity conduits had been ripped apart, creating a maelstrom of sparks and small explosions that began to ignite into
fires.
“Diana, how long?” shouted Maria, but Diana did not respond; she simply stood, numb, watching as the station began to slowly rip itself apart.
Maria ran to Diana’s section of the console; the screen was flickering madly, but it was still operating well enough to access the data. As she worked the alarm throbbed in the background, shaking the deck plates every half a second; it was like the worst hangover headache she’d ever had, multiplied by ten. She scrolled through the key systems: communications were down; the defense grid was down; life support systems had already failed in sixty percent of the station, mostly in the central column, and the rot was rapidly spreading to the external sections. But their hangar bay still had auxiliary power from its independent generator and the launch bay systems appeared to be functioning. In that second, Maria knew what to do.
“We still have a chance,” she called out to Diana. “We go to the planet.”
Diana spun around, as if Maria had hit her with a bucket of ice cold water. “Go planetside? But we’d never make it!”
“Diana, it’s our only choice! The launch systems are still working and your scavenger ships are hardened against impacts in the debris field. They’re tough enough to make it down, but it would be a one-way trip.”
Diana hurried back over to the console and stood at Maria’s side. She seemed suddenly more assured and more like the Diana that Maria knew well. “That’s a big assumption, Sal,” she cautioned. “But these aren’t passenger transports; their holds are designed to store materials reclaimed from the debris clouds.”
“I didn’t say it would be traveling in comfort,” said Maria, managing a half-smile, “but I’ve seen your ships and they’re like ours, which means the holds have modular layouts and adaptable restraints. It’s wouldn’t be pretty, but it would be enough to stop people bouncing around during entry.”
