by B. C. James
The Rojo had shrunk to a tiny speck in the viewport. He needed his ship now. He needed main power back online. What was taking Baker so long? He smashed his fist down on the dead console in frustration, and as if responding to the blow, the controls lit up around him.
The comm channel crackled open. “Sir, we’ve got main power back up.” Baker reported.
“What is our propulsion status?” Pierce demanded. “Do we have thrusters?”
“Maneuvering thrusters are online, but most of the aft units are burnt out. We’ll be able to move forward, but not very fast.”
Pierce grabbed the flight stick in one hand and pushed the thruster control all the way forward with the other. The ship jerked as it broke from rest. He manually aimed the Endurance’s nose at the small dot that was the Rojo. The dot ceased growing smaller as the meager thrusters pushed the Endurance forward.
Slowly Pierce inched closer, closing the gap between them. He could just make out small details on the Pescado Rojo’s hull when her running lights blinked to life. They’d restored power. Urgency bubbled inside him. Did they have propulsion back up as well? He had to hurry. If they engaged their gravity thrusters, the Endurance could never keep up. He flicked open the comm channel. “Is the pulse drive operational?” he asked, almost screaming into the mic.
The comm hissed and Daniels’ voice came over the speaker. “Yes, Sir, it’s online. Looks like there’s one charge missing from inventory. I bet that’s what those bastards used to knock us out of warp.”
“Transfer pulse drive control to the bridge,” Pierce ordered.
“Sir?” Daniels questioned. “If you fire the pulse drive, we’ll fly right past the Rojo. There’s too much thrust.”
Pierce paused, thinking what to do. “We are not going to fly past them, we are going to fly into them,” he finally said. “Transfer control up to me. I will delay the detonation to provide less thrust.”
“Are you sure, Captain? One wrong calculation and we’ll smash right through them.”
“Do it now!” he screamed into the comm, his eyes bulging out from his flushed face.
“Yes, Sir,” came Daniels cold reply. “Transferring control now.”
The pulse drive control screen lit up on the console. Pierce punched in the calculations for a half powered pulse. The farther away the charge detonated from the pusher plate, the less thrust it would impart to the ship. He transferred the calculations into the timer controls and launched the charge.
A half second of silence passed before the blast slammed Pierce back into his chair. Unprepared for the sudden force, his hand pulled back on the control stick, sending the nose of the ship jerking upward. He struggled to regain control. The Rojo shot across the viewport as he overcorrected on the stick. Up and down the nose went, each time the red hull of the Pescado Rojo growing larger as it flashed by the port. Finally leveling out the nose, he aimed the ship for the open bay and readied his hand on the retro rocket controls. As the entire viewport became filled by the Pescado Rojo, he fired the retro rockets. The dark gaping hole of cargo bay three lay directly ahead, approaching fast.
***
Sharp stood next to a control console. He and Morales had thawed out and made their way through the dim corridors to engineering. They helped Briggs where they could, but mostly tried to stay out of his way as he scurried back and forth mumbling to himself about posi-kinetic relays and ionic phase converters while poking sensor probes into various slots.
“Alright, Cap, try it now,” Briggs called out from inside an access panel on the floor, his legs wiggling in the air as they stuck up from the deck.
Sharp pressed a large red button on the console. The lights flickered to life, and the deck vibrated with the energy of a dynamo. He released the button, and the lights blinked off, bathing them once again in the cruel red of the emergency lighting as the vibrations spooled down.
“Hold the button in longer,” Briggs yelled from his burrow, sounding a little annoyed.
Sharp pressed the button again, this time holding it in. The lights returned as the buzzing vibration spooled back up and settled into a steady hum. Arnold clapped triumphantly beside him, and Morales let out an exuberant half squeal half laugh.
Briggs wiggled out of the access panel and moved over to the console. “Good work, Captain. You can let go now.”
Sharp released the button and moved out of Briggs’ way.
“You’d make an excellent apprentice,” Briggs said as he poked away at the console.
They all chuckled. The gravity of their situation seemed a little less heavy now that main power was back online. They were no longer in danger of suffocating or freezing to death. Briggs brought their lightened mood crashing back down. “Captain, you’d better take a look at this,” he said, pointing to the screen on the console.
Sharp stepped toward him. The screen displayed a rear view of the ship. In the center, a round object was growing larger. Sharp leaned in and squinted, trying to identify the object on the grainy display. His eyes widened as he recognized the shape. “It’s the Endurance,” he announced. “She’s headed right for us.”
“What?” Morales and Arnold exclaimed in unison as they crowded around to look at the screen.
“She’s going to hit us,” Sharp yelled. “Do we have thrusters?”
Briggs’ eyes were wide as he shook his head.
The Endurance grew larger on the screen. “Hold on, brace for impact,” Sharp ordered as he encircled Morales in his arms protectively and gripped the control console. The floor fell out from under their feet as the ships collided and sent them sailing through the air. The hard deck came back up fast, and he slammed into the floor, still holding onto Morales. He landed flat on his back and coughed as her weight came down on his chest, knocking the wind out of him.
Morales rolled to the side and looked over at him. “You alright, Cap?” she asked, noticing his labored breathing.
“Yeah,” he spat out between gasps as he struggled to his feet. “Tiptop.” He staggered back to the view screen. The Endurance had smashed into the cargo section and firmly lodged itself, nose first, into bay three.
The others returned to their feet. “What the hell is Pierce thinking?” Arnold asked as he joined Sharp at the console.
Sharp shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m not waiting to find out.” He turned to Briggs. “Can you release the cargo module clamps from here?”
Briggs raced to a nearby console. “The controls are offline, we’ll have to do it from the cargo section.”
Sharp clenched his jaw. “Arnold, you’re with me,” he said as he marched to the exit hatch. “We’re not letting that son of a bitch get back on our ship.”
***
Pierce lifted his head from where it rested on the bridge console. He was hunched forward, laying over the panel, arms sprawled across it. A thin trickle of blood tickled his skin as it ran down his forehead. Odd, he thought as he wiped it away, there is gravity. He slumped back into the chair, his chest aching where the flight stick had dug into it. Looking up, he saw the blast shutters had closed automatically, sensing the imminent collision. He flicked a switch, and the shutters retracted, jamming halfway and screeching to a halt.
He peered out the dark gap revealed by the damaged shutters. The powerful spotlight on the nose of the ship had been smashed to pieces leaving only the running lights to illuminate the surrounding area. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he recognized the interior of the Pescado Rojo’s cargo bay around his ship. He had made it back, he thought as a smile danced across his lips. A drop of blood from the thin cut on his forehead fell to the back of his hand, drawing his attention away from the viewport. He studied the crimson dot. The light seeping through the window reflected off the wet blood, causing it to shimmer like a puddle under moonlight. The gravity on the bridge must be from the grav-plating in the cargo deck, he surmised.
Baker entered behind him. “What the hell happened?” he asked, looking out the ha
lf-open viewport.
Pierce threw his head back and laughed. “Do you not feel it?” he asked, standing up and pointing to the floor. “Gravity. We are back on the Pescado Rojo.”
“Okay great, but did you really need to crash us into her?” Baker responded.
“Drastic measures must sometimes be taken to ensure the success of our mission,” Pierce said, his voice lowering as he came down from his jubilant high.
Daniels entered the bridge, his eyes darting between them, appraising the two men. His gaze paused on the viewport, then without a word, he turned and climbed up to the airlock. Pierce followed, stumbling as his legs became accustomed to the gravity. Daniels entered the airlock and mounted the ladder. He twisted the release on the upper hatch and tried to push it open. It didn’t budge.
“Must be jammed against the ceiling of the cargo bay,” Baker said, coming up behind Pierce.
Shaking his head, Daniels stepped off of the ladder. “We’ll have to find another way in.”
***
Sharp ran through the cargo corridor with Lieutenant Arnold at his side. Warning lights flashed all around as he made it to the central control console. He prodded frantically at the panel. The screen flashed red as a warning message scrolled across the top:
MODULE THREE RELEASE CLAMP MALFUNCTION, PLEASE PROCEED TO NEAREST QUALIFIED SERVICE STATION FOR REPAIRS.
The words repeated on a loop, mocking him. He slammed his fist into the screen. It flexed under the force but didn’t break.
Arnold spoke up beside him. “It’s no good, Captain. The locks must’ve been damaged from the impact.”
“We’ll have to use the manual release,” Sharp replied
Arnold nodded. “I’ll get the two aft locks, you get the two up front.” He turned and raced back down the corridor, not waiting for a reply.
Sharp rubbed his swollen eyes and set off for the forward section. He found two access panels at the end of the hallway, one near the floor and another on the ceiling. He popped the lower panel open, revealing a polished metal cylinder with a handle at the top. Kneeling down, he pulled up on the handle then twisted the cylinder ninety degrees before releasing it. It sucked down into the panel with a thunk. A loud pop rang out as the explosive charge within the retaining bolt detonated, releasing its hold on the cargo module.
“That’s one.” He heard Arnold call.
Another pop echoed from Arnold’s direction. “Two,” he yelled.
Sharp stood up, stretching for the upper access panel. He stepped up on the curved bulkhead to reach the door. It swung open. Sharp’s fingertips brushed over the metal handle on the cylinder, just beyond his grasp.
Another pop echoed from down the hallway. “Three. One more to go.”
Sharp crouched down and jumped, pushing off the wall with his foot. His fingers slid around the handle. Holding on tight, he let his body weight pull the cylinder down. His toes brushed the floor as he tried to twist the cylinder. It didn’t move. He kicked against the wall as he swung his body around, and the cylinder rotated in its hole. Sharp released his grip and dropped to the floor as the cylinder thunked into the hole. The explosive bolt popped, making his ears ring.
Sharp hurried back to the control panel. The warning message had disappeared, replaced by a message informing him cargo module three had been jettisoned. He switched the panel to a live view of the cargo section’s exterior. The long rectangular cargo module filled the screen. As it moved off, the Endurance came into view, its nose buried in the end of the module, like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand.
***
The deck heaved under Pierce, nearly knocking him off his feet. He jumped back down to the bridge. The view out the viewport remained the same, the dark cargo bay visible past the half-open shutters. He sat down in the control chair and scanned the console.
“Sir, I think we’re moving,” Baker said behind him.
Pierce checked his instruments. Baker was right. The Endurance was slowly moving away from the Pescado Rojo. “They have released the entire cargo bay,” he said incredulously. After a moment of shock, he regained his wits and fired up the thrusters to bring the ship back under control. “We have to go after them.”
“We’re not going anywhere with that cargo module stuck on our heads,” Daniels said, coming up to look out the viewport.
“How do we get it off?” Pierce asked, turning his chair to face the other men.
“We still have a mining drone left. We could send it out to cut us free,” Baker suggested.
“No. That’ll take too long,” Daniels replied. “You saw how long it took to cut through the door. The walls of that module are probably twice as thick.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Baker asked perturbed.
Daniels took a seat in the other flight chair. He clasped his hands together in front of his chin. “We may be able to blast it off with the forward retro rockets.”
“Do you think that will work?” Pierce asked.
Daniels shrugged. “It depends how stuck you got us,” he said, glaring at Pierce. “If we can build up enough pressure in the bay, it might blow off.”
Pierce returned his hard stare. “We will try it,” he said slowly.
Pierce swiveled his seat back to the controls. “Hold on.” He said as he pushed the rocket control lever forward to half-power. The bay lit up before them as the rockets ignited. Pierce shielded his eyes from the sudden bright light. Fire erupted through the bay, hitting the back wall and curling around to the ceiling before shooting back toward them. The flames washed over the viewport, slithering back and forth like a dragon’s tongue. Pierce stared up at the inferno, mesmerized by its destructive beauty. Daniels reached over and closed the blast shutters before the rockets could burn through the viewport. They whirred closed, cutting off the light show.
The groan of metal against metal echoed around the bridge, screeching through the roar of the rockets. Warning lights and alarms filled the panel. Pierce pushed the control lever, inching it to three-quarter power. The roar intensified, drowning out the din of alarms. The bulkheads vibrated around them, clattering their teeth. He clenched his jaw and pushed the lever to full power.
The ship shook violently. Access panels flung open, spilling their contents out into the bridge. An echoing creak followed by a deafening bang shot through the room. Pierce flew forward, slamming against the flight stick as the cargo module blasted off. Free of its trap, the Endurance spun wildly. The retro rockets raged at full burn and Pierce’s body wedged the flight stick forward, sending them in a giant backward loop. He got a grip on the edge of the control panel and pushed his weight back into the chair. Struggling to hold himself against the G-forces, he braced a hand on the console and reached for the rocket control with the other. His fingers grasped the metal lever and eased it back.
The G-forces lessened as the rockets powered down. Once they fizzled out, Pierce still felt himself being pushed down in his seat. A glance at the navigation display informed him the ship was sailing backward in a gigantic loop. He grabbed the flight stick and leveled them out. The familiar sensation of weightlessness returned as they pulled out of the arc.
Pierce opened the blast shutters. Through the blackened and scorched viewport, the Pescado Rojo loomed above them, the bottom of its ruddy-brown hull moving away quickly. They must’ve looped completely around her and ended up below the giant ship, the backward momentum from the retro rocket burn carrying them away from their goal.
“Is the pulse drive still operational?” Pierce asked.
Daniels leaned forward in his chair, flicking buttons and studying his view screen. “Pulse drive is online and ready to fire.”
“Hang on,” Pierce said as he reached for the pulse drive controls. He hit the button and the electromagnetic rail cannon twanged through the ship as it launched a charge. A blast erupted behind the ship, arresting their backward momentum and rocking them back into their seats. Pierce launched another charge. The blast pushed them fo
rward. The Pescado Rojo ceased its escape and grew steadily larger in the viewport as they drew ever nearer.
Pierce smiled and swiveled his chair around. “Baker, prepare to launch the other mining drone. When we are in range, have it drill through the door to cargo bay two,” he ordered.
“Aye, Sir,” Baker replied as he stood. He hesitated before leaving, his gaze peering out the viewport. “Sir, look,” he said, pointing at the Pescado Rojo.
Pierce followed his outstretched arm. A glowing green light emanated from the nose of the larger ship. The star field in front of the glow wrapped into a circle, the star light bending around a black sphere. The Pescado Rojo began to move, drawing away from them.
“They have their grav-thrusters back online,” Daniels announced.
“Dammit,” Pierce yelled as their prize moved off. He poked at the pulse drive controls and fired off a rapid series of charges. The echoing crash of the sequential explosions melded together into a steady roar as the blasts propelled them forward.
The Rojo’s escape slowed as the Endurance gained speed with each successive nuclear pulse. But the Rojo still moved away. “Sir, we can’t accelerate quick enough,” Daniels said, punching calculations into his control panel. He turned to Pierce. “We won’t be able to catch them as long as they’re grav-thrusters are operational. They’re just too fast.”
20
Warp Wake
A shiver trembled through Sharp’s body as he sat in the command chair. He gazed down at Morales, the chill reminding him she’d kept his jacket. She probably needed it more than him, he thought as he looked back up at the main view screen. The Endurance slowly drifted away, its nose wedged inside of cargo module three. Main power had been restored and life support was back online. He shivered again. The heaters were warming the ship, but not fast enough for his liking.
