“Alright,” Bielski called out, brandishing a knife, “everyone come and get their piece of birthday cake. Then I think Controller Caple would like his deck back.”
The little celebration had been arranged at the change of the shift so that the most possible people could be present. Brand had the evening off, but the rest of his watch would be back on duty during the party. Not that Bielski minded. He was getting a bit old for that kind of thing. As he walked back towards his cabins, two children chasing a third galloped past, shouting at each other.
“Be careful!” he called after them.
Caught up in their own game they probably didn’t even hear him. Children definitely livened up the place and always depressed Bielski a little.
The cabin was silent when he entered. He checked the small kitchen area and found a note on the screen there reading: ‘problem in dock – back soon.’ Their monthly supply ship had arrived yesterday and he could remember Nastya saying at dinner that they were having real problems getting everything aboard. Bielski put together a plate of salad and sat down in the living area.
In its fifteen years of existence, Junction Station had grown at an amazing rate. It had prospered and grown – perhaps too much so – despite all the predictions that it would be yet another failed independent space colony. With the discovery and settlement of Landfall, Junction Station offered the cheapest place for commercial and government ships to refuel en route to and from the colony. The charges for fuel and the traffic, both of supplies and people, had allowed them to continue to expand. But there were limits to the underlying infrastructure and either Junction would have to expand the colony at vast expense or stop accepting new applicants to join.
The Council was still debating the matter, but the question had split the population of Junction into two camps: those who saw it as a commercial enterprise and those who saw it as a new society. The debate had remained good-humoured, which was a relief to Bielski. He and Nastya had been in the first wave. They’d put everything they owned into it and left Earth with warnings ringing in their ears from friends and family that they’d be back with little more than the clothes they were standing in.
The two of them had wanted to be a part of a new and better society. But somehow Bielski felt it hadn’t lived up to their hopes. Junction Station wasn’t bad, but the high ideals had been compromised by day-to-day needs. Which made him wonder whether without those, it was really worth staying on what amounted to a floating tin can? He’d have to talk to Nastya again. They could cash in their stake here and use it to buy into a colony on Landfall. It would be odd to live with nothing but the sky over their heads again, with nothing but... Bielski drifted off to sleep without completing the thought.
He woke with a start when the alarm on his watch bleeped. There was a blanket over him and the bedroom door was closed – Nastya had obviously come back in. Glancing at his watch, Bielski swore and wrestled the blanket out of the way.
As he made his way back up to the control deck, he could hear music coming from the direction of Brand’s cabins, where the party was clearly getting underway. By comparison, the control deck was a temple of serenity and would probably stay that way. Nothing was scheduled to arrive at the station, so the only flight control tasks due during the watch were from the station’s two hydrogen skimmers.
“Hey Mateusz, I think we have a tech issue.”
Bielski looked up from the book he’d been reading at his assistant Michelle.
“Oh?” he replied.
Looking past her towards the display, he saw a collection of blips.
“Where did they come from?”
“That’s the problem,” she replied, as he got up and went over to the main plotting table. “They appeared on the plot about five minutes ago.”
The blips indicated several ships in close formation. With Junction Station positioned within the planet’s rings, they had no direct line of sight and instead relied on a series of satellites to bounce the signal through the rings to the station. Mostly it worked but not this time. The contacts were well inside the Red Line – the satellite’s radar should have picked them up hours ago.
“No transponders either?”
“Nope,” Michelle replied. “So we’ve either got a satellite on the blink or another software problem.”
“Alright, call them up,” Bielski said.
He listened as Michelle hailed the approaching ships. With the signal having to bounce through half a dozen separate satellites, there was always a lag but five minutes passed without reply. Michelle hailed a second time was again met with silence. The two of them started running system diagnostics, but the link checked out. When the original radar satellite orbited out of position to be replaced by another, they tried again but still there was silence.
Bielski looked uneasily at the plot. Battle Fleet ships were the only ones that normally travelled in groups. Junction’s civilian grade radar usually didn’t pick their warships up until after they’d crossed the Red Line, but as arrogant as the fleet could be, it was also a stickler for proper approach procedures.
“Launch a camera drone, Michelle,” he ordered.
“You sure? From here it won’t have the reaction mass to get back.”
“Yes. I want to see them properly.”
It took the drone three quarters of an hour to navigate directly up and out of the rings.
“Michelle,” Bielski said very quietly as the feed from the drone came up on the screen, “better get the Boss up here.”
With the entire Council gathered on the command deck, space was tight. A couple of them had been at the party, a few were asleep and the rest had been pulled away from various other duties. Michelle had made the excuse that it was something to do with the party getting out of control, which was good thinking – so far no one outside the room knew what was approaching.
Alex Gibbons, founder of Junction and a bear of a man, stared hard at the screen.
“No reply at all, you say?” he asked.
Bielski shook his head.
“They don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen.”
“I have,” Michelle said.
She’d been searching on the computer for a few minutes and was now looking physically sick. She passed over a computer pad to Gibbons. Bielski looked over his shoulder at it and felt his blood freeze. It was a poor quality image of a starship from one of the news feeds. The headline under the image read MISSISSIPPI INCIDENT – FLEET SHIP ATTACKED. The ship in the image wasn’t quite the same as the ones approaching, but the design commonality was unmistakeable.
“How long until they get here?” Gibbons asked.
“Four to six hours,” Bielski replied. “Not very long.”
“Two .22 pistols with twenty-four rounds each, twelve electrical stunners, twelve batons and six stab proof vests,” Gibbons summed up their armoury.
“We have a few blasting charges,” offered Jesse, his deputy.
“That would blow open any section of the station they were used in. So armed resistance isn’t an option and it might not be necessary,” Gibbons replied. “Let’s not go off at half-cock. We don’t know they’re here for any hostile reason.”
“Well, I doubt they’re here for tea and biscuits,” Caple said sharply.
“No, probably not,” Gibbons agreed. “However, I think there are only a couple of things we can do. I’ll go out there in a shuttle – try to meet them before they come into the rings and attempt to open a dialogue.”
“Jesus, Alex!” Jesse exclaimed.
“Like I said, just because they shot at that fleet ship doesn’t mean they’re hostile. Mistakes happen. But hey, if anyone has got a better idea, I’m all ears.”
“So what do the rest of us do? Sit and wait?” Caple asked.
“No you don’t,” Gibbons said. “Call up the harvesters and get as many people onto them as they’ll support. They can’t run, but they can hide in the rings. Oh, and launch message drones to Earth.”
“All of ‘em. We need help and we need it yesterday.”
No one bothered to point out that it would take the drones’ days to get to Earth.
In the early days there had been a suggestion that Battle Fleet might station a small number of ships at Junction. Gibbon had vetoed the idea. A permanent military presence would make Junction a valid target he’d said, but as Bielski observed Gibbon’s shuttle climb away, he was struck by just how alone they were. The closest of the harvesters was an hour away, while the other one was on the far side of the planet Phyose. Even if it stayed out of the rings for as long as possible, it couldn’t reach the station before evening and when it did, it would be a sitting duck.
“Mateusz, Mateusz, MATEUSZ!” Bielski jumped as Caple slapped the top of the console in front of him. “Wake up! Get down to the unloading dock, we’ll have to load up as fast as we can.”
“How do I decide who goes on?”
“Just do your best,” Caple snapped, turning away but not so fast that Bielski didn’t see the tears in his eyes.
As the shuttle exited the surface of the rings, Alex began transmitting his greeting. Back on Junction, Caple must have decided to put it onto the station’s main intercom. At first he spoke in the most formal terms. Welcome to Junction, we are the human race. Still the alien ships came on silently. The range dropped and as it did, they all heard something none of them had ever heard in his voice before – desperation. He asked again and again for them to respond.
“This is an unarmed facility. Please, we beg you to do us no harm!”
They were the last words anyone heard him speak. Junction’s radar barely registered the missile launch – Gibbon didn’t get a chance to even scream before it struck.
“Damn it Gordon! Just close the airlock. You’ve got to move!” Bielski demanded.
“Screw you!” Gordon shouted into Bielski’s face, “I’m not going without my wife!”
“The life support is already overloaded! It can’t take more… God damn it!”
Bielski grabbed Gordon’s wife and shoved her forward. That got Gordon out of the way and he slammed the airlock hatch closed. Behind, the pumps started to cycle.
As he reached the centrifuge entrance, Bielski met his neighbour coming the other way, leading his wife and two children. All of them wore survival suits.
“Russell.”
“Mateusz.”
Russell looked almost embarrassed.
“We will hide down on the storage levels,” he said. “If they board, they may not find us – the wife’s idea.”
Bielski smiled awkwardly and clapped him on the arm, “If the worst happens’ my friend, God willing you’ll see this out. Head for C Compartment – it’s the fullest at the moment.”
Inside the centrifuge and the accommodation decks, panic was spreading like a disease. Bielski had to push his way through people who were crying and shouting as they attempted to gather their family members. Finally he reached the command deck.
“The harvester is away,” he said breathlessly.
No one heard him. All attention was on the main screen as one of the alien ships slid out of the rings and into the cleared area around the station. The harvester was still sluggishly turning away from the station. The alien ship seemed to pause for a moment, as if to consider the scene before it. Would it pursue the harvester? Bielski found himself hoping the alien would go after it in order to give them a little more time, then despised himself for his own weakness. Then the ship turned towards the station, prompting an audible groan on the command deck. Abruptly two missiles lanced out from its flank.
“Oh God!” someone said.
The harvester had completed its turn and begun accelerating slowly away. Coming from directly astern, the missiles slammed in, ripping open the engineering section. What remained of the engines spluttered and ceased functioning. Ahead lay one of the mountains of ice and rock that made up the rings. With engines gone, the harvester’s bows and mid-ship sections coasted forwards, slowly but helplessly. As they watched on the command deck, it ploughed head on into the asteroid. There was a flash of escaping atmosphere as every compartment ruptured.
“May God have mercy on their souls,” Caple said quietly.
Bielski found himself desperately hoping the end would be quick, that the alien ship would fire and that the explosion would be for him at least, fatal. Better that than seeing the station hull split open and being blown screaming into the void. Instead more alien ships arrived, two immediately left, heading in the direction of the second harvester, while the largest ship edged alongside the station. Bielski only became aware that Nastya had managed to get onto the command deck when she slipped her hand into his.
There was no defence against the boarders as they burned through the hull. If anyone had seriously considered armed resistance, the casual destruction of the harvester put an end to it. But that reluctance didn’t save the first half dozen people the aliens encountered. A wave of humanity fled from the invaders. On the monitors, Bielski could see the space suited aliens spread out, clearly exploring the station. After the first few deaths, the aliens largely ignored those humans they happened across. Only when someone got in their way by accident or design did they fire. But when they did, they murdered without hesitation. Finally, twenty minutes after boarding, the first of them arrived on the command deck. Everyone backed away, keeping as much distance as they could until they were all crowded into a corner. The creatures, with their strange quadruped bodies and almost snake like heads, looked around. Their interest seemed focused on the technology of the station, but eventually their attention shifted to its inhabitants. One of them advanced on them.
“Please,” Caple rasped, “we are peaceful.”
The alien paused as if considering Caple’s words. It then prodded Nastya with the muzzle of its gun, watching Caple, as if seeking a reaction.
“For God’s sake, no one move, don’t do anything,” Caple said, keeping as still as possible. The alien stepped back and then gestured towards the hatch out of the command deck.
Bielski was herded along with the rest back towards where the alien’s airlock had punched through the skin of the station. When they reached the lock, the person at the head of the column hesitated. Bielski had just time to recognise it was Brand, before the closest alien levelled its weapon and gunned him down. Then it gestured to the next person. No one dared even glance at Brand’s remains as they drifted away, leaking blood. The rest meekly made their way down into the alien ship and into what was clearly a cargo bay. As the hatch closed behind them, Bielski held his wife and looked around him and saw friends and neighbours, some streaked in blood, theirs and that of others. The air was already thick with the smell of fear and urine. But many of the population of Junction were missing. The aliens couldn’t have got them all. We should have hid, Bielski thought as he held Nastya close.
With all electronics stripped from them by force, it was impossible to determine the passage of time. Only the pull of ship’s acceleration gave any sense of movement. The lights went on and off at irregular intervals, while food and water, which clearly came from Junction’s stocks, was occasionally pushed in through the hatch. Just as clearly, there wasn’t enough of it for all of them. The first of the fights was between two of the mothers who hadn’t made it into the harvester. Each accused the other of stealing food and the nutty bar over which they fought was smashed apart before they could be separated.
How long they were in the hold was anyone’s guess, several weeks at least. There was never the familiar jolt of a jump drive but even so, no one doubted that they were far removed from Junction and probably well beyond the scope of human space. Finally, from somewhere beyond their prison, Bielski heard the unmistakable echoing rings of a docking system engaging.
“Wake up,” he said quietly to Nastya. When she started to speak he put a hand over her mouth. “We need to stay in the middle of the group. It will b
e safer there.”
Her mouth tightened and she nodded. It was an animal instinct. To be at the edge risked being cut out from the herd. Survival meant that where possible, those who had once been friends, neighbours and people, should be now looked upon as shields.
Again at gunpoint, they were herded out the stinking cargo bay that had been their home. As they reached a ladder, Bielski felt the tug of gravity for the first time since they had been driven out of Junction’s centrifuge. There was obviously no centrifuge here but by the time Bielski reached the bottom, he could just as clearly feel that he was pulling about half Earth gravity. After weeks with only intermittent acceleration gravity, Bielski’s legs shook under the familiar strain but there was no time to acclimatise. All he could do was hold Nastya close as the guards, now armed with some kind of electrical baton, forced them on through several separate airlocks and into a sterile set of chambers. From behind, Bielski heard shouting and screaming. Caple and several others were forced through before the hatch closed and locked behind them. One of the women threw herself at the lock, screaming and clawing at it until the metal was streaked with her blood.
“What happened?” Bielski asked.
Caple shook his head, “They took Chris, Maria, Lana... and one of the children.”
Shortly afterwards the lights all went out. In the dark Bielski held his wife tight as he closed his eyes and desperately tried to block out the sobs and cries of those around him. After who knows how long, an exhausted sleep claimed him.
Bielski was woken by the rough shake of Caple’s hand. While he’d been asleep, a single light had come on, which offered just enough illumination to move around.
“We need to talk,” he said quietly.
Bielski nodded and carefully disengaged from Nastya. He followed Caple as they both picked their way through the sleeping bodies to a corner of the room. There were two objects protruding from the wall. One seemed to be a tap and sink, the other a toilet of some kind. As they waited for the others to make their way over, he noticed for the first time Cable that was injured. There was a burn through his jacket at about kidney height and he was holding himself rigid. The flesh below already looked inflamed.
The Last Charge (The Nameless War Trilogy Book 3) Page 21
