by Rob Dearsley
Before Dannage could even think of dodging, the ship bucked around them. The corridor jolted up with a scream of tortured metal. Wall plates and cross braces tore as the ship came apart.
The sudden movement tripped the creature, sending it tumbling toward the ceiling.
“Cap’n?” Luc pushed himself up and drifted stiffly toward him. “I think it’s time we got out of here.”
Dannage didn’t have time for relief before the creature hit them again. He was ready this time, tackling Luc out the way. The creature slammed into the already bulking deck. The hull plating above them creaked and groaned.
“That’s about to go. We don’t want to be here when it does.” Luc pushed the captain and his prize ahead. The creature recovered and came for them again. This time grabbing Dannage and hauling him away. He could feel the hard-shell chest piece of his suit crumpling in the thing’s grip. Stars, it was strong. It slammed him back into the wall. His head hit the inside of his helmet, pain spiking over his skull, stars filling his vision. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He was slammed back again. The creature’s whole body slammed against him. He blinked the stars away to see Luc ramming the cryo-pod into the creature’s back again. The alien’s grip loosened as the force of the impact knocked it up from the floor. It scrabbled for purchase. Before it could find any, Luc pulled it away from Dannage and toward the opposite wall.
Dannage wanted to cry out a warning. As soon as the creature got hold of something solid it would be able to bring its full strength to bear. Luc pulled a small canister from his belt and aimed it at the creature.
They both hit the wall. Luc pushed away, spraying the breach foam over the creature’s right side.
The grey foam – designed to seal hull breaches in emergencies – hardened in seconds, immobilising the creature and leaving it adhered to the wall. It let out another of those high-pitched roars and thrashed against the foam. It was no good, the foam was strong enough to hold vacuum. It would hold the creature, for a while anyway.
The deck pitched again, and more hull crumpled around them. The dust that their scuffle had kicked up was being sucked upward.
“We have to go now!” Luc grabbed Dannage and the pod, and they kicked off toward the end of the hallway as hard as they could. They just about made the next intersection before the outer hull and the roof of the corridor they had been in gave way. Automatic shutters slammed down behind them.
Neither man gave any thought to the good fortune of that system still being active. Both were far too concerned with their own survival. Dannage looked down at the map printed onto his right wrist.
“I don’t see any way we can get to that fighter bay.” He looked up at Luc and back down at the pod. “I’m sorry, man.”
Luc chucked him on the shoulder. “All is not lost.” He studied his own map. “There’s an airlock just down this corridor if I read this right.”
“We can’t get Arland to dock now. It would be suicide, even for a pro pilot.”
“If we jump, she could catch us.”
“Sounds like a long shot.”
“All we’ve got, Cap’n.” He opened the com-line to the ship. “Arland, you still out there?”
“Yes, sir. What’s your ETA?”
“Small change of plan.” Luc went on to explain their crazy idea to her. “So, think you can do it?”
“You mean open the bay doors and catch you? In the middle of this starless shit-storm?”
“Yeah,” Dannage cut in, “it sounds easy when you say it like that.” He could imagine her exasperated expression quickly shifting to a determined anger as she prepared to prove his sarcasm wrong.
The ship trembled around them, letting out another long-suffering moan. With a shared glance, they kicked off toward the airlock. Dannage pushed the doubts to the back of his mind. If anyone could do it, it was Arland. Aside from Luc, Dannage trusted her more than anyone. They were going to be fine. He was going to see Arland again.
Luc cranked the inner airlock doors closed behind them. Once he was done, they took as secure a hold of the pod as they could, both tying their safety tethers around it.
Dannage hit the control to blow the outer hatch. The explosive bolts went with a bang, throwing the door outward. The decompression hit Dannage like a freight train. He felt his grip on the pod slipping.
Then they were in space. A storm of white-hot metal shards spun around them. There she was. The familiar blunt triangle of the Folly, her lower cargo bay doors open, welcoming them.
“Arland, by all the Stars in all the heavens, don’t miss.”
◊◊
Arland worked the controls, trying to simultaneously watch out the window for debris and line up the pickup on the camera feeds. It was crazy. The captain was a complete loon to even consider this idea. They could all die trying to pull off this rescue.
Just a little to the left. She pulled the ship upward and away from another tumbling weapons module. Damn, now she’d messed up the intercept with the captain. And what the heck was that thing they were hanging on to? Down a bit. A smidge left. They were almost there. The proximity alarm went off again. She didn’t have time to dodge and get back into position. Odds were if she bugged out now, whatever it was would hit the captain.
“Stars help me.” She took the only route left open to her. Down, toward the captain and Luc.
Four
- Feldspar System -
Screams of protesting metal filled the Folly as the jagged fragment of armour plate scraped across her hull. Arland gritted her teeth against the noise, urging the ship forward and into a steady climb away from the wreckage.
“Cargo bay doors are closed,” Vaughn shouted, his voice too loud in the sudden silence.
Arland dodged another weapons pod. Finally, they were in the clear. She breathed a sigh of relief, slumping back in the chair. She’d done it. She’d saved the captain and managed not to die in the process. It was what her old CO would have called a good day’s work. She hit the autopilot. Now to see what piece of junk her muppet of a captain had brought back with him.
Vaughn trailed behind her into the cargo bay. “What’s the rush?”
“Captain’s brought something on board.” She gestured to where the captain and Luc were both still clutching the pod. “Right now, I’d put even odds on whatever it is trying to kill us.”
The two men in the middle of the room groaned and rolled away from the pod, giving Arland her first look at it. The bay’s gravity had been set to standard down, forcing her to use one of the ladders set into the wall.
“Oh, for crying....” As she got closer, Arland saw the pod clearly for the first time. “This is can only end poorly.”
The captain had his helmet off and was removing the other parts of his suit. His normally messy curls were plastered to his head.
“Sir.” She helped him with his suit’s chest piece. Whatever she had been about to say fled from her thoughts as she turned the chest piece over. Stars, the whole front section was crumpled and twisted. Almost as though some powerful hand had grabbed the captain by the scruff of the neck. “What happened over there?”
“It’s a long story,” the captain replied. “I’d like the doc to take a look at this.” He gestured to the pod, bringing her attention back to it.
“Speaking of which.” She gave the pod an arch look.
“Imagine the opportunity we have here.” The childish enthusiasm in his voice was infectious. “We’re going to meet a real life Terran. You’ll be able to meet an actual Terran warrior!”
“You’re still taking a big risk here, sir.”
Vaughn waved the two of them aside and knelt by the cryo-pod.
“Wow, this tech is something else.” He ran his hands over the pod almost reverently. “Biofeedback sensors, even the display tech is ahead of ours.”
“That’s all well and good,” the captain said, impatient. “But can you get it open?”
“Surely the more pertinent question is should
we open it?” Arland added.
Luc, already stripped out of his EVA suit, leaned over the pod, condensation forming around his hands. “Arland has a point.” He held up his hand, forestalling the captain. “I’m not saying that it shouldn’t be opened. But perhaps we would be better going to a proper medical facility.”
At least the captain seemed to stop and think about that.
“Guys,” Jax’ voice came from the overhead speakers. “What about my spare parts?”
“Don’t worry, got them right here.” Luc hefted his pack.
The captain reached for where his pack should have been, a guilty expression crossing his face.
“What happened?” Arland asked.
“Cap’n was attacked. Creature tore it off him,” Luc said, by way of explanation.
Jax must have been listening in on their conversation. “What did you manage to get?” Nervous tension filled her voice.
Luc pulled items out of his pack, checking them off as he went. When he was done Dannage stepped forward, looking up as though to address the ceiling. The cryo-pod momentarily forgotten.
“What can you do with what we have?”
“It’s not as bad as it could be,” Jax replied. “We’ve got most of the stuff we need to get the highway drive back online. Unfortunately, I need the superconductor.”
“Well, you’re not going to be going back over to the Heimdall, sir.”
The captain shot Arland a scathing look.
“What about one of the other wrecks?” Luc asked.
Arland closed her eyes, trying to picture the wreckage of the TDF ships. There were three good prospects. Two of them smaller than the Heimdall – maybe battleships? – and a third that was even bigger, with all the hallmarks of a carrier. There were another couple of cruisers that they might be able to pull something out of if they had to. One thing bugged her.
“How come we haven’t seen any alien ships?” The others turned to look at her. “There are only Terran ships here, and they’ve taken a beating. So who did it? And where did they go?”
The captain nodded. “It’s an interesting question. Perhaps something our guest can help us with.”
Damn, he was back on that girl in the cryo-pod.
“Cap, I thought we agreed to take it to a medical facility?”
Vaughn cut in before the captain could reply. “Sorry, but this may be a moot point. Power levels in the pod are falling. By my reckoning, we open it in the next twenty minutes or not at all.”
“That settles it then.” The captain took one end of the pod. “Let’s get it to the medical bay.”
◊◊
Dannage placed the pod down on the single bed that dominated the Folly’s tiny medical bay. Luc released his end and stepped back to allow the doc access. Dannage cast one last look down at her before retreating.
“Give me some space.” Vaughn pushed him back. “We could use Jax’s expertise to get this thing open.”
Vaughn began connecting cables from one of his consoles to the cryo-pod. Status displays came up on the screen. He leaned over the cryo-pod to tap at its control panel.
Arland moved over to a wall panel and began talking in a hushed tone.
“Doctor, can you step aside, give the camera feed a good view of the device?” Jax said over the com.
The doctor moved around to the other side of the pod, allowing Jax to see the pod through the cameras.
“Can you access the root directory through the console? Then we can run a direct interface with our system.”
“How would I do that?” the doctor asked.
“You need to run a machine level command channel.”
“A what?”
They were wasting time. Dannage interrupted her. “It’s no good, Jax, we need you out here.”
“I, I can’t.” She sounded so small, so lost. “You know I can’t.”
Damn it. “Arland, go talk to her, convince her to help.”
◊◊
Arland crawled through the narrow passageway into the engineering compartment. It was such a cramped, twisty space. Easy to lose someone in, to get lost in. Pulling the bag behind her, she picked her way into the main section, where she had last seen Jax. The young girl wasn’t there. She paused, listening. There it was, barely audible above the hum of the engine. She traced the soft sobbing to an alcove, an old green rug draped across the entrance.
Arland pulled the curtain back. The young girl shied away, still sobbing gently.
“Jax.” She reached out to place a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
Jax flinched away, slamming her head into the back of the alcove with a resounding thump and a cry of pain.
“Jax, I’m sorry.” This time Arland kept her distance.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do it,” Jax gasped out, her sobs slowing. Finally, she took a deep, quavering breath and rolled over to face Arland. Her face streaked with tear tracks, her eyes red-raw. Stars, she looked so lost. “Shauna, I know what he wants, and I know what’s at stake, but I can’t do it. I just can’t.”
“I know,” Arland said. “But there’s a person in that pod, and she’ll die if we don’t get it open. Is there nothing you can do?”
The young engineer shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. “I can’t go out there.”
“Maybe you don’t have to.”
Jax looked up at Arland, hope and fear warring on her face.
“Come on, you can fix this engine with duct tape and a spoon. There must be some way you can jack in remotely.”
The fear and worry evaporated from Jax’s face. She had a problem to solve and precious little time to do it in. Apparently, this was what she lived for.
Arland followed her back into the main section. The younger girl had a pair of screens suspended by small gantries from a nearby bulkhead. Cables snaked from the screens, down the framework and off in all directions.
The camera feed from the med bay came up at Jax’ command. She swiped her hand across one of the screens, bringing up a false colour image. The pod was painted over in dark blue.
“No wireless signals,” Jax explained. Arland was taken aback, it was the simplest explanation Jax had ever given.
Jax hit a com switch. “Doctor, I need you to reverse the cables connecting it to your computers.”
To his credit, Vaughn did as asked without question.
“Alright, now we have a way in.” A small smile played on her lips. She swiped at the screen again, his time bringing up a block of dense code, some of it using characters Arland didn’t even recognise. The other monitor still showed the video feed from medical.
Jax pulled over a chunky, mechanical keyboard. “The pod’s designed to read biomimetic data. So, I'm hoping we can use that as a common language to relay commands.”
Arland watched her work. It was strangely beautiful, if completely incomprehensible. Jax’s face pinched in concentration, the keyboard rattling away as she typed, moving so quickly her fingers were almost a blur.
“Got it.” She pushed the com switch. “Doctor, I'm going to spoof increased heart rate and brain activity. It should trigger the revival cycle.”
On the screen, a red glow suffused the pod, giving the figure inside a demonic aspect. The vitals spiked. Arland guessed that was the Terran coming around. She could imagine the audible hiss as the seal popped and the transparent, upper half of the pod hinged upward, distorting their view. Vaughn leaned over the pod with a small penlight in his hand.
An arm reached out, swiping the doctor’s hand away. Arland could empathise. She’d wanted to do it enough times during her physicals. Vaughn leaned back in his lips moving, probably trying to calm the Terran, who reached up and grabbed the doctor, throwing him against the wall.
This didn’t look like it was going to end well. The Terran was up and out of the pod. Damn, she was tall, must have been nearly seven feet. The captain moved in front of her, his hands up in a pacifying gesture. She guessed he was trying to talk the Terran down. Kn
owing the captain, she expected imminent violence.
She had to get in there, protect Dannage and the others. If even half of the stories about the Terrans were true, that woman could rip through the captain without breaking a sweat. Image of Dannage’s broken and dead body flashed through her mind.
Arland bolted from the engine compartment, cracking her head against the pipework on the way out.
She paused in the cargo hold to grab a compact rifle from the weapons locker, before leaping up the ladder into the med bay.
Stars above. The woman, the Terran, had the captain pinned against the wall, one hand balled in his shirt.
“Put him down!” Arland squinted down the weapon’s sights at the Terran. At this rage, even the captain would be hard-pressed to miss. Even so, the weapon was loaded with ship-safe ammo. “Put him down, or I put you down.”
The Terran dropped the captain and lunged for Arland. Arland pulled the trigger. The weapon barked and blood blossomed, stark crimson against the white of the Terran’s shift. She kept coming.
Arland fired again. As she pulled the trigger, the Terran jerked the weapon up. The round shattered an overhead light, raining safety glass down on them. Arland let the gun go. The Terran hadn’t been expecting it and her arms whipped up.
Arland took the opening. Ducking under the taller woman’s guard, she drove forward with her shoulder. The move knocked the breath from the Terran, driving her back a pace. The Terran had over a foot on Arland, but Arland was used to fighting taller opponents. She kicked out at the Terran’s ankles, knocking her off balance.
Taking advantage of the momentary respite, Arland scampered away, breathing hard. The Terran recovered faster, lashing out with a foot that connected with Arland’s jaw. Before she could react the Terran struck again. Stars flashed across Arland’s vision as she went down, tasting blood. Another blow, a fist to her gut, made sure she stayed put. The Terran raised her fist for another strike.
The console above Arland’s head exploded.
The blast knocked the large Terran back and toward an exposed power relay. Electricity flashed from the relay. The blue-white arcs trailed down the Terran’s back in a gentle caress. Where they touched, her skin blackened, smoking. The Terran let out a cry, her back arching, limbs spasming.
