by Mike Smith
“Approximately four-and-a-half hours,” she replied, confused at his simple question when a quick glance at the flight console would have answered his question. It was not until she looked up from her console that her jaw dropped open in shock! Instead of closely monitoring the flight controls, which as co-pilot he should be doing, instead Jon had his feet up on the control panel and was leaning back in his chair.
“Great,” Jon said. “Lots of time then, so Paul how is the family?” Jon directed the question at his operations officer who was also resting comfortably in his chair.
“Good thanks. We are thinking about trying for another.”
“Be good to have another addition to the crew,” Jon replied with a grin. “You will need to be quick if you want to be first though,” he added. “Station scuttlebutt has our lovely pilot here getting very friendly with a certain young communications officer…” Jon responded with a wink towards Paul, throwing back at him his comment from a few weeks back in his quarters.
“I’m what!” Miranda replied gob-smacked. “I will have you know that Lieutenant Anders and I have shared a few meals to discuss…” Miranda was so caught up in her indignant response that she failed to notice the smile on the face of the two other occupants of the bridge. Both were experienced combat veterans familiar to the pre-mission nerves and satisfied that they had managed to distract Miranda from her concerns.
*****
Almost exactly four-and-a-half hours later the external sensors on the freighter picked up the mass of the small Syndicate station, directly ahead. As a well-oiled team that had frequently been in similar positions, Jon and Paul turned back to their consoles to carefully monitor the situation.
“We’ve been picked up by the station,” Paul calmly informed the two pilots. “They are powering up their weapon systems and locking onto the ship.” Miranda visibly tensed at this piece of news, waiting for the first shots to be fired that would result in their imminent demise.
Jon reached over to put a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. “It’s nothing to be concerned about. They are just playing it safe. I expect them to be contacting us right about…now,” Jon pointed at the flashing light on the communication console that registered an incoming message. “Now, just like we rehearsed, play it cool,” Jon explained smoothly before opening a two-way communication channel.
The voice of the Syndicate station operator filled the bridge. “Unidentified ship, this is restricted space. Identify yourself immediately or we will be forced to open fire on you.” With a reassuring grin Jon motioned Miranda to respond.
“What do you mean, unidentified,” Miranda responded putting just the right amount of outrage in her voice. “This is a scheduled cargo transfer. Who screwed up over there and missed this off the logs?” Miranda demanded. The voice from the station suddenly fell silent, as this was obviously not the usual response of an unidentified ship.
A few moments later another voice came on the channel, inquiring in a calm voice. “Please identify yourself and purpose.”
“It’s me, Miranda,” she replied hoping to whichever god that this person recognised her as she had only been to this station infrequently, usually shuttling whichever senior level executive was to join one of their high level meetings, that and fending off their unwanted advances throughout the trip!
“The ship is the Eden carrying replacement power transformers. I was just told to pilot this hunk of junk here; I was told this shipment was expected. Seems like somebody screwed up over there!” Miranda had remembered the last time she was here, that the crew were constantly bitching about the failed power transformers, hopefully this would make the shipment seem more believable.
It felt like the response took an eternity coming, but in actual fact it could not have been more than a couple of seconds before the voice replied. “Very well Eden, docking permission granted, please use docking bay three.” Then the communication terminated abruptly.
“They are powering down weapons,” Paul added after a few moments checking the sensors. “Looks like they fell for it.” Confirming the same readings from his console, Jon nodded in agreement before turning to Miranda.
“Take us in nice and slow and establish a hard-seal at the docking port they described. I assume you know which one that is?” Jon asked hopefully. Miranda nodded her head in acknowledgement and started to move the ship towards the station.
Hitting the intercom to the cargo hold Jon ordered. “Gunny, David, prepare your teams. We will be docking in five minutes.”
*****
It was difficult to know what the crew of the Syndicate station had been expecting upon opening the airlock from their side. Certainly one of the last things they were expecting was a dozen heavily armed Marines to burst out, shouting though their amplified speakers for nobody to move. The maintenance crew was stunned by the sudden appearance of the Marines. They were quickly rounded up and restrained. Once the Marines had ensured that the docking port was secure and safely in the hands of the security team, they moved out into the station to secure the computer core.
Monitoring the on-going operation from the command deck of the freighter Jon, Paul and Miranda were unable to hear the gunfire from the station, but were able to monitor the progress of the assault team via their internal communications system. Hence the first indication they received that the assault team had been detected was the shout of “Incoming!” via the communications followed by the clatter of heavy automatic weaponry in the background.
There had been a long discussion prior to the operation about the weaponry carried by the team. Standard tactics for a Marine boarding party was to be issued with energy based weaponry, which worked in all possible environments. Gunny had promptly discarded this with the comment that the only good use for an energy weapon was to cook your dinner with. In his experience energy weapons were heavy, bulky and had a notoriously slow rate of fire. They were, however, the preferred weapon for ship (or station) based combat as they worked in the vacuum of space.
“If we end up losing atmosphere on the station, they are screwed anyway,” Gunny commented with his usual bluntness. “The crew is going to have bigger worries than dealing with my Marines!” Hence Gunny had issued all the team with projectile-based assault weapons. These could not be used in the vacuum of space but were deadly in the close confines of the station.
That decision turned out to be the correct one. As the defenders quickly found themselves pinned down by the heavy automatic gunfire from the attacking Marines. Their own pulse-based laser weapons with their slow rate of fire, proved very ineffective against the heavily armoured marines.
“How are we doing Gunny?” Jon asked conversationally.
“We’re making good progress Commander, we are nearly at the computer core. However, it would seem that the station security personnel have fallen back to a last line of defence around the core, they are dug in pretty deep. It could take some time…”
“One minute Gunny,” the frantic waving from Paul interrupted Jon.
“Looks like the station has started broadcasting some sort of distress signal. It’s heavily encrypted and the computer cannot break the encryption but the fact that the signal is duplicated every thirty seconds indicates some sort of automated or repeated message,” Paul explained.
“Gunny, it would seem that the station has started broadcasting a distress signal. Can you terminate the signal from your position?”
Ducking back under-cover for a brief moment, Gunny reviewed the positioning of his party and called out over their tactical frequency. “Jonas, Jackson get-up to communications and lay some demolition charges up there. We need to stop that signal before somebody comes to investigate.” With a nod of understanding the two Marines bringing up the rear of the assault team checked their suit’s computer for the location of the communication equipment and after identifying the quickest path fell back from the rest of the group.
“Jonas and Jackson are on the way Commander!” Gunny shouted ov
er the communication link. Noticing that once again the station security personnel were falling back under the withering gunfire he motioned for his team to advance…
*****
Several minutes later the freighter was shaken violently by a string of explosions surrounding one of the station’s central hubs.
“The transmission has now ceased,” Paul said, matter-of-factly, giving a cat-like smile as he peered out of the cockpit window with a whistle. “Wow! Those Marines sure did a number on that station.” He added noticing the deep rents along the station where the explosives had detonated together with a growing field of hull debris being jettisoned away from the station.
“Good job guys. Transmission has terminated,” Jon updated the Marines via the communication link. “We need to pick-up the schedule as we have no idea if anybody received that transmission and how long it will take for them to respond.” Unfortunately the ship’s sensors, picking up several gravimetric distortions, quickly answered Jon’s rhetorical question.
“We’ve got incoming!” Paul called out urgently.
“What have you got?”
“Sensors are picking up several gravimetric distortions thirty kilometres from our starboard bow.”
“Any idea regarding numbers?”
“Not yet,” Paul said. “They are coming in close formation so I cannot isolate the distortions any more accurately.”
At the confused look from Miranda, Jon quickly explained. “We cannot track ships while they are in FTL, but we can detect when ships are about to enter or exit FTL by the massive amounts of gravity waves caused by their FTL engines generating worm-holes in our space-time. It would seem we are about to receive company,” Jon replied tensely.
“How did they arrive so quickly?” Miranda asked reasonably. “We only detected the transmission several minutes ago and quickly shut it down.”
“No idea, with any luck it is just another ship on a scheduled arrival.”
Behind the two pilots Paul just snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, like we ever get a lucky break…here they come!” He exclaimed as the gravity distortion finally abated to leave several ships, fast approaching the station. “Sensors are detecting two assault shuttles with five, no make that six fighters in close escort,” Paul cursed.
A communication from the approaching group broke the sudden silence on the bridge with the curt orders. “Unidentified ship – this station is private property, you are ordered to power down all systems and surrender otherwise you will be destroyed.”
“Well…there goes the neighbourhood,” Jon quipped. “Paul, how long until they arrive at the station?” Jon asked.
“If they remain at this approach velocity, a little under three minutes,” Paul said.
Tapping open a secure communication channel with the crew on the station Jon ordered. “David, Patrick we have incoming reinforcements estimated arrival time is a little less than three minutes, fall back to the ship and prepare to depart.”
“Commander,” Gunny objected. “We are at the computer core now, they have secured the doors and we are cutting through now. We need more time.”
Glancing at the tactical screen that was showing the real-time unfolding situation Jon thought for a moment before replying. “Understood, we are moving to the backup plan,” Jon said.
“Acknowledged, we will try and speed things up this side,” Reynolds replied before turning to the Marines that were currently using a laser cutter on the heavy blast doors. “We’re out of time, pull your men back, we’ll blow the doors…”
Meanwhile Jon was busy removing his restraining harness, while ordering Paul. “Make sure David and the security team are secure then make all possible speed to the nearest FTL jump-point.”
“But what about the Marines on the station?” Miranda interjected in a worried tone.
“They’re Marines,” Jon replied sardonically. “They are used to being abandoned by the fleet. Don’t worry they will be making plans to make their own way home. Paul you have the bridge,” Jon ordered over his shoulder as he hurried towards the exit.
“And where the hell is he going?” Miranda demanded as the door of the bridge slid shut leaving Paul and her alone to deal with the unfolding disaster.
“He’s gone to take care of that bunch,” Paul thumbed his finger out of the starboard window in the approximate direction of the incoming ships. A few moments later a hard knock was felt causing the freighter to shudder as something detached from the underside of the freighter. Miranda was stunned to see the Eternal Light drifting away from the freighter. Once at a safe distance the main engines of the smaller ship powered up and it shot off in the direction of the oncoming ships.
“He’s going to take them on by-himself, is he nuts?” Miranda demanded in complete disbelief.
“I would worry less about him and the ‘Light,” Paul insisted. “And more about ourselves, unless we get moving,” Paul replied tersely. Rapidly flicking switches to bring the freighter’s engines up from a cold start. “Anyway he is the best pilot that I have ever seen,” Paul added matter-of-factly.
“I almost had him,” Miranda replied smugly.
Affording a quick glance at the younger woman Paul replied delicately “I understand that Jon was going easy on you. According to him he was hoping that you would lose interest, anyway he was very grateful that you survived the destruction of your ship. He said he would have been mortified if he killed anyone with such a great posterior,” Paul added glibly, frantically trying to nurse the engines into life.
“He said what?” Miranda exclaimed in disbelief, completely forgetting about the approaching threat and turning her full attention to Paul.
“Ugh…” Paul said, frantically trying to change the topic of conversation. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that should I? Anyway it was after quite a few drinks in my apartment and we got talking about you and that young communications officer that you were dating…” not realising that he was digging a hole for himself.
“And…” Miranda insisted, her eyes narrowing at Paul.
“Well…” Paul hedged. “I might have mentioned something about you and the aforementioned communications officer and obviously commenting about your radiant beauty….” Paul had recognised the cliff that was looming ahead and was frantically trying to start bridge building.
“Let’s get to the part you were discussing my ass…” Miranda insisted venomously.
“Well…Jon made some sort of comment about how he was grateful that you were unharmed in the incident as otherwise he would never have got the opportunity to know you better…” Paul hedged.
“He said that?” Miranda replied thoughtfully, her expression softening slightly.
“Then he mentioned about observing your fantastic ass,” Paul added helpfully.
“He had better make it through this alive,” Miranda insisted in response. “Then I can kill him!” she growled.
“Finally!” Paul cheered in celebration as the engines finally reached full power from the cold start-up. Flicking the communication channel open he asked. “David, are you and the rest of your security team secured?” he inquired.
“We have just secured the airlock this side and we are ready to depart,” David responded.
“Let’s go then!” Paul insisted hurriedly, motioning towards Miranda to pilot the freighter away from the station.
“I cannot,” Miranda motioned towards the flight console and specifically the docking lights that showed they were still firmly docked to the station. “We need to wait for the station to release the docking clamps before we can depart.” Miranda explained calmly to the increasing incredulous face of Paul.
“In this instance we are going to skip a few items from the pilot’s standard pre-departure checklist,” Paul commented derisively. “I’ll introduce you to a term in the navy my old squadron commander called ‘ex-fil’, or what Jon commonly refers to as ‘getting the hell out of Dodge’.” With that, he leaned forward slamming the throttles of bo
th engines straight to full thrust!
The slight shudder through the freighter as the Eternal Light decoupled was nothing compared to the terrifying screaming of metal as the powerful engines of the freighter fought against the clamps that were securing the ship to the station. It seemed for a terrible instant that the powerful clamps to the station would be victorious, but with a final terrible roar of stressed metal, the supporting clamps and a good portion of the station were torn free as the engines of the freighter propelled it away from the station.
“Don’t worry,” Paul added reassuringly. “I am sure they will not be billing us for the damage...”
*****
“Fire in the hold!” the voice of Gunny echoed out across the teams tactical channel followed a moment later by the heavy bulkhead doors protecting the computer core being torn off by a blistering explosion. Before the explosion had even dissipated Gunny was through the hole gouged in the door by the heavy explosives throwing stun grenades to immobilise any defenders. The Marines had no particular care if the defenders survived the encounter or not, but instead had settled on these to avoid any possible damage to the computer core, their main objective.
As it turned out the use of the stun grenades was fairly superfluous as the defenders were already totally disorientated from the earlier heavy explosion to the doors. The Marines quickly disarmed the defenders and restrained them while two marines started the delicate job of dismantling the computer core.
“How long will this take?” Gunny demanded as the two techs quickly started pulling off deck panelling.
“Should only take a few minutes, Gunny,” one of the techs replied. “These cores are designed to be portable for easy replacement and repair.” A few moments later the deck under the Marines started to vibrate rapidly, then with a noted sudden drop in air-pressure, sirens started to wail in the background and emergency blast doors started to close.
“That could be a few minutes too long,” Gunny muttered aloud, “I think that was our ride that just departed.”
