The recruit’s body teetered and then leaned forward onto the deck. Collin saw Tink frantically grabbing for her helmet, getting it off just before throwing up. He retched and had to turn away from the displays.
“Told you, it’s fucked up,” DiMaggio said, anger in his eyes.
Commandant Nari was speaking again: “In fifteen minutes another recruit will lose his head. I’m sure you don’t want to be responsible for that. I await your prompt surrender.”
The display flickered and returned to the beginning of the looped feed, showing Commandant Nari’s smiling face.
“I’m going to shove that thing right up his ass,” Bubba said, fuming.
“And I’ll hold him down for you,” DiMaggio said, looking no less infuriated.
Collin realized his fists were clenched. He didn’t dislike too many people; in fact, he couldn’t think of anyone—but he hated Commandant Nari. That man needed to die and Collin didn’t really care who’d be the one to make that happen.
“Let’s move out,” Collin said. “We need to find a way up to the next level.”
They all moved into the recreation area and spread out.
“Something’s going on over here,” Humphrey said. He was moving toward a hatchway that was bulging outward. A series of yellow lights were blinking on the access panel to its left. The hatch looked precariously close to blowing into the compartment. Collin kept clear of the hatch, as did the others, and walked over to the porthole windows on the adjacent bulkhead on his right. What he saw caused his jaw to drop. A significant portion of Nero Station’s center hub was gone—blown away, leaving a jagged gap, as if a gigantic bite had been taken from it. He looked up and saw that half of Level 3, all the way up to the top two levels, was gone. That meant the fusion reactors on Level 4 were on the undamaged side of the hub structure. Commandant Nari and his forces were up on Level 7—also on the unharmed side of the hub—within the recruit barracks.
In the distance, Collin observed a large ship, one of the big bulk carriers the captain had mentioned, moored to one of the spokes, near the station’s outer ring. Collin wondered if that was the piece of shit the commandant had arrived in, or if there was another bulk cruiser that he couldn’t see from his present perspective.
A flash out in space caught his attention. Then he saw there were a number of small vessels out there—Kardon Guard Marauders and Brotherhood Vanguards—still going at it. He turned his attention back to the ragged section of the hub. From where they were situated on Level 2, he counted up two more levels. That was where they needed to go, where the reactors were located. Undoubtedly, they’d be guarding Level 4 at the elevator shaft. He squinted his eyes. He’d been looking at the contours of the three reactor tanks for several seconds before he actually realized it. They looked surprisingly like the big mushroom-shaped water tower back in Middleton. The truth was, it might be necessary to access the reactor from space. Was that even possible? He wondered if their battle suits were space safe.
He opened a direct channel to Captain Primo.
“A bit busy right now, Frost,” came a hurried voice. “Get up to the reactors, yet?”
“Um … no, not yet. Looks like we’ll need to approach them from space. Much of the center hub is blown away.”
“You’re talking about a whole new level of complexity, kid.”
“Do these suits work in space?”
There was a long pause while the captain swore at something at the other end of their channel. “Of course they work in space. Each suit has enough oxygen for two hours. But moving around in space is tricky. Easy to find yourselves flailing around, adrift, until your air runs out. Be careful.”
“I will.”
“Also. Just spoke to the admiral. They’re not doing so well in holding off the Kardon Guard. Time’s running out, Mr. Frost.”
Collin heard the desperation in his voice and then it hit him … it wasn’t just the admiral the captain was concerned about. The principessa—his wife—was also still up there. No wonder he’d renegotiated the terms of their return home. The captain was desperate to save her.
“I won’t let you down, sir.” Collin cut the connection and hurried over to the hatch.
“I wouldn’t get too close to that thing,” DiMaggio said. “Looks like it could blow any time.”
“We’ll need to accelerate that timeframe. Everyone, look for something we can use for a rope.”
Chapter 38
The most nimble of the Lone Stars, Orman, Cine, and Pack, returned to the open section between Levels 1 and 2. There they found a type of optical cable that was both strong and plentiful enough to fit Collin’s requirements.
By the time the three Dacci creatures returned to the recreation compartment, with Cine holding the large spool of cable over one shoulder, Collin was nearly ready to blow the hatch.
“I’ll take that … good job,” Collin said. He quickly tested the strength of the cable, pulling it between two hands and seeing that it had sufficient strength for his purposes.
He divided the cable into four equal long sections and now, using far more strength, ripped the cables apart. He then took one of those sections and began to make smaller four-foot-long sections. “Everyone take a piece of cable and make a strap for your Doubler. We’re going to need both hands for what comes next.”
Collin tied one end of his own small cable around the muzzle of the Doubler and the other back towards the thinnest part of the rifle’s stock. It wasn’t perfect, but it did the trick.
Collin picked up the remaining three long sections of cable. “Okay, we’re breaking up into three seven man groups. Tie yourselves together with no less than ten feet between.”
Collin’s group consisted of DiMaggio, Bubba, Tink, David the Brick Burk, Gregg Panichello, and Lydia. Collin noticed Darren was watching to see whose group Lydia would join. He’d purposely tried not to think about the apparent love triangle situation going on between Lydia, Darren and himself. There was no time for something so trivial—not when so many lives were at stake. But Collin couldn’t help feeling a tinge of guilt when he saw the hurt in Darren’s eyes as Lydia moved to stand in his group.
It was no surprise who had joined Darren’s group. It consisted of Mike Humphrey, Clifford Bosh, Owen Platt, Garry Hurst, Heather Primm, and Dan St. Ama. That left the third group with Melody Sawyer, Dana Stoker, Royce White, Brian Owens, and Orman, Cine, and Pack.
Darren’s group moved over to the bulkhead, near the hatch, where his group found handholds on vertical support struts that were present every few feet along the outer bulkhead.
“Standing there’s not going to work, Darren,” Collin said.
Humphrey said, “What now, mister boss man. You going to micro-manage every step we take?”
Collin shrugged and gestured toward the rest of the entertainment area, where chairs, tables, and other large miscellaneous items lay scattered around the deck. “Once that hatch is blown and the compartment is open to space … the vacuum of space … everything in this area is going to shoot through that hatch like a bullet. You want to be in front of that?”
Collin saw sudden realization brighten Humphrey’s face, as well as everyone else’s. All three groups moved to the back of the compartment and began looking for handholds on the vertical struts. Collin looked to make sure everyone was holding on okay.
“Bubba, can you hold on to me … while I shoot?”
Nodding, Bubba put his arm around Collin’s waist. “Okay, man. I got you,” he said.
Collin confirmed the setting on his Doubler, aimed the weapon at the set of hinges to the right of the hatch, and fired. The thump thump thump of plasma fire continued until the hinges, and much of the hatch itself, turned from pink to red. The hatch was taking more punishment than he had counted on. He stopped firing, taking the Doubler away from his shoulder. He’d need to rethink this—
Startled, Collin nearly jumped out of his battle suit when he heard the unmistakable roar from the Cinco do Mayo
. Humphrey was firing toward the hatch and it took less than five seconds before the hinges began to disintegrate and, in a tremendous swoosh, blow outward. Just as Collin earlier described, everything not secured to the deck immediately flew toward the open hatchway. Tables, chairs, a large multi-sectional couch, blew outward, like shit through a goose.
Once pressure equalized, it didn’t take long for the compartment to become still.
“Let’s go,” Collin said to his group. He saw they’d slung their Doublers over one shoulder and were cable-tethered properly together. The first to approach the open hatchway, Collin wasn’t sure what to expect. He looked out and was struck by the clarity, the sharpness of everything beyond. As he reached for a handhold along the outside of the bulkhead, he was able to get a better view of the damage done to the station’s main center hub. He could see what had actually happened. Off to the left was what looked like the remnants of a bulk carrier. It was torn in half, large pieces of debris suspended around it. Charred blast marks on what remained of the fuselage made it clear the ship had taken tremendous Brotherhood fire. Collin guessed the massive troop carrier lost navigational control and had careened into Nero Station—taking a chunk out of the center hub, and a significant portion of the outer ring as well.
There was still some gravity here. It made sense, now that he thought about it. As long as they were in close proximity to the station, its artificial-gravity generators would extend out into space—probably several yards, at least. Collin didn’t waste any time and began climbing toward the upper decks. It was slow going, using utmost care to avoid protruding bulkheads and girders, most of which were torn and shredded—sharp and dangerous. He wondered how much time had elapsed since Fico Lucan had lost his head. Who would become the next victim of Commandant Nari and his cleave sheer if they didn’t find a way to rescue the recruits in time?
Collin’s Lone Star team was now out of the rec room and climbing upward. As Collin cleared what he determined was the third level, he found that he could now stand and wait for the others on a wide, cantilevered section of the deck. He gave Bubba a hand up and moved out of the way; Bubba, in turn, helped DiMaggio, who helped Lydia, who helped the next, going down the line until those in his group were all up and standing. For a moment, the vastness of space pulled everyone’s attention. Standing there, Collin was struck by the absolute quiet. That, and their tiny stature compared to the enormous space station and the vast open space beyond. As if on cue, everyone turned toward the wrecked center hub. How had the station survived such incredible damage? Collin looked up, craning his neck. And how many lives here were lost in this one cataclysmic event? Sparks flared at various points and a steady stream of steam sprayed from some indeterminate location, several levels up.
Collin headed toward the inside recess of the hub structure. Eerie; when he’d first climbed up onto this level, he’d noticed dim lighting emanating from a porthole or observation window. The seven Lone Stars moved as a group and Collin signaled them to stay to the side, out of sight of the window.
Seeing the outline of a wide, double-hatch to his left, Collin figured that it was indeed an observation window; that they were standing in what previously was some kind of airlock—perhaps for maintenance personnel to access the outside of the station. Staying close to the bulkhead, he peered inside. There was movement and he quickly moved back, out of view. He gave it ten seconds before peering in again. He saw four armed Kardon Guards, in gray battle suits, turning the corner, just leaving the compartment. They were looking for the Lone Stars—checking every inch of the station.
By now the other two groups had also reached the cantilevered section of the deck. Collin spoke, via the open channel: “You need to stay clear of that observation window. Let’s keep climbing.”
* * *
Pack was the last one to arrive at Level 4. Once there, with no convenient cantilevered deck to stand on, everyone needed to find a place to stand. Several stood upon a lone, exposed, girder, while others chose small protruding sections of sheared-off, ragged-looking, exposed deck plating.
The three fusion reactors were huge and situated back where much of the outside of Level 5 was sheared away above. The entire group now stood near one of the bulbous, mushroom-like, seventy-five-foot-tall tanks.
“So we’re here,” Darren said, looking up. “What did the captain say to do next? How do we start that chain reaction you mentioned?” He looked over at Collin.
“I’ll need to get inside. Get to the control room, which, according to the captain, is on the other side of these tanks.”
“I don’t see any hatchways, or other ways in.”
“I’m going to check the top of this reactor tank.” Collin looked up and pointed. “See that? What looks like the remnants of a catwalk with railings? There’s barely room for one, maybe two, of us up there, so I’ll check it out and report back … when I have a better vantage point.”
“I’ll go with you,” Darren said.
Collin couldn’t come up with a valid argument why he shouldn’t go too. He nodded and started to untie the umbilical cable cord from around his waist.
“What’s the plan?” Bubba asked from his perch, seven feet away.
“Darren and I are going to check out the top of this reactor tank for a way in. Be back in a few minutes.” By his expression, Bubba wasn’t too pleased that Darren was the one joining Collin.
It took several minutes for them to climb up and around the side of the tank. Collin gave Darren a hand up onto the catwalk. It swayed under their combined weight and vibrated beneath their feet. Collin briefly wondered if that vibration would transfer into an audible clang, somewhere inside the station.
Darren went first and held on to the two railings as he walked along the catwalk. Sure enough, it led to a hidden, inset, hatchway. To the right, halfway up the bulkhead, was a glowing touch-screen panel. Yellow lights blinked over the hatch. Like in the rec room, it probably indicated a warning that one side of the hatch was open to space.
“You know the code … how to open this thing?”
“Nope,” Collin said. “Maybe it’s time we see just how strong we really are in this environment.”
Darren looked skeptical but nodded anyway. Both found firm handholds on a ridge that ran along the inside rim of the hatch.
“We pushing in or pulling out?” Darren asked.
“Um … probably best if we pull out … once the seal is broken, this hatch is going to fly open, anyway. We’ll have to be careful of that … and anything else that flies out.
“On three?” Collin asked.
Darren counted it off, “One … two … three …”
They pulled and pulled and pulled again. Nothing happened.
They let go and caught their breath. “Again,” Collin said, getting back into position. “One … two … three.”
Something shifted—starting to give way. Still holding the hatch, Darren repositioned his feet flat against the bulkhead. Collin followed suit as he walked up the side of the bulkhead, his fingers gripping into the ridge, and felt the effect of their combined pulling on the hatch. The seal suddenly broke, the vacuum of space sucking the air out from around the dislodged hatch. With another combined yank, the hatch blew out.
The hatch missed Collin’s head by an inch. As the inside atmosphere, with the force of a hurricane, depressurized—objects began to fly out: first a chair and desk, and then several red-uniformed bodies. Collin gasped, fearing his actions had just caused the death of two Brotherhood crewmembers. One body got caught on the catwalk railing behind and Collin realized the man had died sometime earlier. A round, black scorch mark in the middle of his forehead made that all too clear. Almost as quickly as it started, the depressurization stopped. It was only then Collin realized Darren was no longer next to him. He opened a direct channel.
“Darren?” No answer. Collin quickly changed his HUD settings to show both friendly and enemy icons. He first saw himself and then the twenty others, waitin
g below, where he’d left them. Then he saw a single icon in what he assumed was open space. Crap! Collin tried again: “Darren?”
“Yeah … I’m alive.”
“You hurt?”
“Yeah … banged my shoulder on something.”
“What happened?”
“I guess I forgot to let go of the hatch. In fact … I’m still holding on to it.”
“Don’t let go of it … at least not yet,” Collin yelled, probably louder than advisable.
“Why … It’s not like it’s going to do me much—”
“Just hold on to it; be quiet and listen to me. How far out are you?”
“Maybe one hundred feet … something like that.”
“Okay … Newton’s third law: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
“What are you talking about, Frost?” Darren asked, sounding irritated.
“You are going to either push or kick that hatch away from you with all your strength, but only when your back is facing exactly in the right direction … toward the hub.”
“My back’s not quite facing the hub and I can’t maneuver around. There’s nothing to push off against. I’m in space, remember?”
Collin thought about that for a second. “Without letting go of the hatch, with your right hand pull your Ponge 412 from its holster. Do it really slow.”
“Okay, done.”
“Now, use your thumb and ensure it’s set on six.”
“Done.”
“Here’s the tricky part. You’re going to have to try things … test to see what works.”
“And if it doesn’t I could go flying off into deep space!”
“No … no, that won’t happen. Any recoil from an energy weapon is practically non-existent, remember? What you want to do is fire in small, one-shot bursts. Just enough to spin your body around in the right direction.”
Lone Star Renegades Page 20
