by D K Evans
“Got two up ahead – they seem to be running,” Yelham reported.
“And the third?”
“No eyes… computer last saw him moving in the opposite direction.”
They wove between the rocks and caught a glimpse of the enemies’ bright red exhaust up ahead. The shot out into a clearing in the asteroid field and Ford fired the cannon again, waggling the nose of the ship to lay down as much random fire as possible. Up ahead, the Federation pilots dodged and weaved as the first rounds passed them, straining their engines to try and reach the safety of the debris field up ahead. The lead one slipped out of view behind an asteroid, but the second was caught dead on by another burst from the cannon. Yelham winced as they narrowly avoided colliding with the tumbling mass of pulverized metal. The scanner showed that the first one was still up ahead and they plunged after him, straining at their seatbelts as they wove the ship between the rocks. Something in the back clunked against the interior of the ship.
“Damnit, I thought you said the crate was secure!” Ford growled, “One false move and that thing could get thrown into something important and put us out of action!”
“I’m on it!” Yelham replied, unbuckling himself as the ship leveled off and moving back into the cargo hold.
The box that they’d collected had somehow come loose from its restraints and was floating freely around the cabin. Carefully, Yelham climbed hand-over hand along the wall and grabbed hold of it, slamming the container back onto the floor and tying it down with one of the straps. As the ship lurched, he swore under his breath and grabbed for the next strap.
Ford tried to stay as level as possible, careful not to accelerate or slow down too fast, lest he throw his copilot against the interior of the hull and injure or even kill him outright. The enemy ship was having a tough time of it too, having to pull hard to the right to avoid a sheer wall of shifting gravel and dust that was blocking its escape. Ford saw the opportunity to cut him off.
“Hang on to something!” he called over the radio, giving Yelham a split-second grace period before punching the throttle.
The red smear behind the enemy fighter grew larger and larger in the view screen until Ford fired the cannon again, a series of distant flashes and the sudden disappearance of the neon scarlet plume confirming that the rounds had found their mark.
“You almost done back there?” Ford asked as Yelham cursed to himself.
“Yeah, yeah. Just got to unbuckle myself from the-”
He was cut off as a staccato drumbeat filled Ford’s helmet and flashes lit up the cockpit, the instruments flickering on and off as the ship lurched alarmingly. Ford cursed and turned them around as another Federation interceptor flitted past with guns blazing. The missing fighter had rejoined them at last. Alarms blazed in his ears as he headed back the way they had come. For a brief moment he contemplated leaving the asteroids behind and making a break for open space. He banished the thought from his head. At these ranges, it was suicide.
Tracer rounds soundlessly flickered past and gutted one of the frozen rocks ahead and ignited the gas inside in a tremendous geyser of blue flames. Ford cursed as he rolled the ship and worked the throttle back and forth, trying anything to throw off the aim of their pursuer as they zigzagged in and out of cover. Up ahead, an enormous mass of iron ore drifted into their path. Ford prepared to blaze around it, but then froze as it wheeled onto its side to reveal a hole in the middle. Like an oversized metal donut floating in space. He charged towards the opening, knowing exactly what to do even as the Federation pilot fired another volley at him, chewing up the left wing of the ship as Ford put himself into a crazed spin. The opening grew larger as gunfire whipped around him, bouncing off the hull of the ship as the fighter drew closer, knowing exactly where his target was about to be. But so did Ford.
With a flick of the controls, he turned the spin into a quick spiral and blasted the entrance through the asteroid with the cannon, just slipping through as tons of iron slag filled the opening behind him, emerging on the other side as the Federation ship was shredded by the debris and exploded in a ball of flame.
Ford sank back into his seat as he looked at the flickering sensor display and saw no trace of any other ships.
“Well that was interesting,” he said after a short pause, “How’s everything back there?”
There was no reply.
“Yelham?”
Unease growing in his stomach, he unbuckled his safety harness and opened the hatch to the cargo hold. It was open to space. The rear ramp was completely gone. Holes riddled the roof and one wall from where the enemy fighter’s rounds had punched through the ship at an angle. A ragged hole had been blasted through the deck beneath his feet, narrowly missing the engine compartment. The crate was still in place and had somehow miraculously avoided damage. Yelham was also left where he had tethered himself, though he hadn’t been as lucky as their cargo. He was missing the back of his helmet and one arm. A long smear of crystalized blood and oxygen was frozen to the hull. Ford floated in place for a moment, stunned. At least it had been quick, he reasoned. Better than what had happened to his last copilot at least.
He somberly returned to the cockpit and ran a diagnostic check. Most systems had taken some damage, but navigation and propulsion were still functioning optimally and that was all he needed. A warning chime on the sensor readout called his attention to some distant energy signatures. More ships had just jumped in. Large ones. Doubtlessly Federation vessels here to investigate what had happened to their fighters. It would take them a while to arrive, but there was no sense wasting time. Ford moved to the edge of the asteroid field and keyed up the slip-space drive, manually inputting coordinates from a navigation card he kept on his suit sleeve. It was old-fashioned, but it was also the kind of thing that was almost guaranteed to go up in flames if you got unlucky in a dogfight. Not like a flight computer, which was liable to be recovered and scoured for information. Like most rebel methods, even their security measures were low-tech.
As the drive started to power up, Ford couldn’t help but think about the crate in the back. It was different all right. Both in appearance and importance. The Federation hadn’t just come across them by chance – they’d been waiting. Converging on them from all sides? That was an ambush pure and simple. They hadn’t just wanted to grab the box and apprehend the couriers, they’d wanted them well and truly dead.
Something about his cargo didn’t quite sit right. And he was damn well going to find out what.
CHAPTER THREE
After a three day jump, Ford arrived back at base. The Guranul system was a bleak place, mostly comprised of frozen-over water planets and their attendant moons with a few thick rings of asteroids to hold the attention of a few isolated mining outposts. Aside from the refueling station orbiting Guranul IV, there wasn’t much to attract frequent visitors. And that’s the way the Rebels liked it.
He guided the ship in carefully, trying not to overtax the already straining engines as he made the final approach towards an ostensibly abandoned prospecting station that lay amongst a tangle of derelict gantries and docking stations. Ford swung wide around to the other side of the station and keyed the radio in a rapid burst of static. A discreet and friendly ‘hello’ in the darkness. In response, a set of massive blast doors opened up to allow him entry and he guided the CT-34 on into the hangar.
The doors clamped shut behind him as Ford set the craft down, cringing as one of the landing gears failed to deploy and nose of the ship clanked onto the deck. The engineering crew ran over to meet him and he jumped down from rear of the ship, grateful to be back in the embrace of the station’s artificial gravity.
“You’re late as usual…” a familiar drawl rang out across the hangar.
“Nice to see you again too, Hubbard,” Ford smiled as he shook hands with mountain of a man dressed in overalls that seemed to be more oil stain than fabric.
“You bag many?” the imposing head mechanic asked as they m
ade their way over to a chalkboard covered in tallies next to a column of pilot names.
“Six total,” Ford reported, “A couple of maneuver-kills and the rest with the cannons.”
“You sure?” he raised an eyebrow, “You know I’ll check your flight computer, right?”
“Feel free, maybe you’ll learn something.”
“Learn something? What the hell did you do to the ship?” Hubbard grinned as he watched his maintenance crew try to decide where to begin trying to fix the damage, “Looks like you lost a fight with a lawnmower and went back for a second try!”
“We had problems, more than usual,” he replied, “Yelham didn’t make it.”
“It always sucks to be the new guy,” Hubbard frowned as he put the chalk back down and walked over to his team, “Quarl wants to see you in her office.”
And with that, he was back to work.
‘That was Hubbard all over,’ Ford smiled to himself as he crossed the vast room filled with gutted ships and shuffled into an elevator, ‘Any bad news comes along and he rolls with the punches like the best of them.’
His stomach lurched as the elevator got moving.
“He’s here,” the intercom buzzed.
Ellery Quarl looked up from her computer screen and sighed, massaging her eyebrows as she felt the beginnings of a headache brewing in her skull. She’d been awake too long – far too much work for one person to get through alone. But then again, these days she was the only person she trusted enough to do this particular work. Every day, dozens of encrypted messages would come through from other rebel groups in Federation space. Mostly reports on shipping, troop movements, new propaganda being deployed against them and a million other details that would bore any sane person to death. But Ellery lived by the maxim that the devil was in the details. And recently, she’d found something very devilish indeed.
For a few moments, she paused, staring at the rotating decorative map of the known galaxy that was set into the top of the desk. On one side was Earth, the cradle and nominal center of civilization, administering a few hundred worlds from lightyears away. Then a lopsided billow of light spilled across the map, showing the path of human colonization across the immediate area. Borders and different color washes denoted territories overseen by different corporations and governments. The Federation out on the edge, the mysterious and technologically advanced Singularist League with their closed-off kingdom and a dozen others with equally strange and mysterious histories. All claimed to be direct successors to whichever state had first colonized those regions. But all answered to Earth ultimately, which was why the Federation was desperate to keep their little rebellion under wraps. The Feds were still just fish in a small pond. But Ellery suspected that as long as the tax money kept flowing, Earth didn’t give a damn what happened out here.
“Do you want me to send him in or what?” the intercom rasped again.
“Yes!” she called, standing to get a glass of water from the kitchenette in the corner of the room.
The door opened and Ford padded in, still dressed in his flight suit. Ellery wrinkled her nose as a stale smell wafted over.
“You could at least have showered first,” she said as she returned to the desk.
“I thought this was urgent.”
“Somewhat. I heard you got yourself in some trouble. Lost another copilot.”
“It was nothing I couldn’t handle,” he replied with a cautiously indifferent shrug, “What’s this about anyway?”
She paused as the door opened and Aeton Molt stepped into the room. Unlike most of the other rebels, he kept his uniform as tidy and spotless as possible. Hubbard had often described him as an ‘asshat’ due to his perfectionist nature, but Ford had come to value Aeton’s penchant for following the rules. As Ellery’s second in command, Aeton could usually be found in the operations room in the bowels of the station. For him to tear himself away from his work meant that this meeting must be even more important than Ford had first expected.
“I miss anything?” Aeton asked breathlessly as he smoothed out the creases in his jacket.
“No,” Ellery smiled, “I’m just bringing him up to speed.”
She turned back to Ford and pursed her lips.
“Was there anything different about how the Federation came after you this time?”
“Yeah, they came in from almost all directions… like they had been trying to get in position to spring a trap but we turned up just a little too early. Why?” Ford narrowed his eyes, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Ellery smiled and batted the topic away with a wave of her hand, “But you got the cargo here safe and sound?”
“Yeah, but it’s not the usual stuff. Just a smaller type of box instead of one of the normal freight containers.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” she turned back to her bank of screens, “Command said to expect something like that.”
“They tell you who sent it?”
“Above my pay grade, I’m afraid. Besides, the less we know the better – keeps everyone else safe if we get rumbled.”
“Doesn’t strike me as the normal kind of supply container.”
“Well they must have just changed up the packaging.”
“Can’t fit too much ammo inside that particular packaging. It’s weird. Yelham wanted to take a look inside…” Ford said, probing for a reaction.
“Tell me you didn’t open it!” Ellery’s gaze had shot back to him in an instant.
“Of course not!” he replied, taken aback, “But then if there’s nothing special about it, what’s the harm?”
She just glowered at him in reply.
“I’ll have Hubbard’s guys deliver the box to level 4-G,” Aeton told Ellery as he smoothed his uniform again, “The life support’s been restored down there, so I don’ foresee any problems.”
“4-G?” Ford asked, “If there’s nothing odd going on, why put it all the way down there? Is the warehouse full or something?”
“Ford, you can’t just stick your nose into every damn thing you please,” Aeton growled, “Have some respect for protocol!”
“I’ve got plenty of respect for protocol – I just want some respect in return!” he shot back, “I’m the one going out there and risking my neck on these missions! The least you can do is clue me in!”
“Now look here mister! You need to get yourself in order before you start questioning my…”
“Enough!” Ellery banged her fist on the desk, silencing the two men, “Ford, your work here is valued, as is your experience. Soon – when the time is right – you’ll be made aware of what’s what.”
“And when will the ‘time be right’?” he asked.
“Like I said, ‘soon’.”
Ford rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. “I need a shower and my bunk,” he said as he got to his feet and padded wearily out of the office.
Ellery settled back into her chair apparently content for the moment. Aeton simply raised his eyebrows at her and flicked a piece of grime off his sleeve.
-
The PA system heralded the start of a new day with its familiar set of chimes, rousing Ford from his slumber. Yet another shower later, he wandered over to the engineering canteen for a breakfast of freeze-dried cereal bars and instant coffee in front of the place’s massive window. He reckoned he was almost as sick of looking at the stars as he was of the food. He’d almost finished when Hubbard plonked himself down in the seat next to him with a plate of desiccated-looking scrambled eggs.
“So you enjoy your meeting with the queen of the castle?” Hubbard asked through a mouthful of food.
“I wouldn’t say ‘enjoy’ is the right word. More like I left with more questions than answers.”
“That crate, right?”
“Yup,” Ford grimaced through another sip of his so-called coffee, “I’m sick of having to follow orders without knowing what it’s all for. I get that some things have to be kept under wraps, but this hardly seems lik
e a big deal.”
“It’s a big deal in my estimation. They won’t even let my guys go back down onto level 4-G – Ellery’s had the whole deck locked down and I’ve got the only working access card in my whole department! Somethings up, that’s for sure.”
“It gives me the creeps.”
“You’ll get no argument from me there, buddy,” the larger man said, “Having to toe the line and not ask questions… feels like being back under the Federation.”
“Yeah. Though we’re not quite so much at risk of being tortured or indiscriminately killed by Ellery,” Ford snorted.
They sat in silence for a few moments as Ford gazed out through the glass into space, watching the activity on the other side of the glass, where a large ship was wreathed in a glittering latticework of scaffolding. As it floated in sync with the station, a dozen small craft flitted back and forth between them and the occasional spark of welding torches lit up the hull of the vessel.
Like practically everything the Rebellion used, the ship they were looking at was both stolen and obsolete. A former military corvette, the thing had been towed into its present berth by Hubbard’s crew over a year ago. Since then, they’d removed damaged sections and most of its heavy weapons and replaced them with docking rings scavenged from the station itself. Now upwards of three dozen fighters could clamp themselves like barnacles to its hull and be transported to strike targets much further afield than just their nearby backwater systems. Aeton reckoned that the makeshift carrier would be their ticket into the big leagues, enabling their cell to join the fight in earnest. Though others were just as convinced that the thing would fall apart halfway through its maiden voyage.
