Maria ran back into the cockpit, leaning over Myomerr's shoulder, “What's wrong?”
“The video feeds just went down!”
“Audio?”
“No, nothing... their comms are down too - I've lost all communication with them!”
Maria plopped back into her seat, “Lemme try...” she pulled up the base communications command system and paused in mid keystroke, “What is that sound...?”
Myomerr tilted he head, her feline ears standing up, “Sounds... like a heartbeat...”
■ ■ ■
Commander Edgars leaned forward in his command chair, “Red Leader, please repeat, did you just say they disappeared?”
“That is affirmative, Freedom.”
“Two destroyers just disappeared...?”
“Affirmative.”
The Commander leaned back in his chair, scratching his forehead. “Would you care to elaborate on that Red Leader?”
“Disappeared... as in vanished, ceased to be visible, no longer present...” the open mic hissed quietly for a moment, “poof, all gone - they go bye-bye...”
Walt Edgars cleared his throat; fighting the urge to laugh, “Understood...” he could see other members of the bridge crew fighting the same urge.
“Red Flight will be returning to refuel, Blue Flight and Zulu Two will continue on patrol.”
“Understood, Red Leader.” Walt was eager to talk to Paul in person to get more details, he was having a difficult time wrapping his mind around two ships the size of destroyers, vanishing in space within visual striking distance. “Mr. Ragnarr, Ms. Raulya, have you ever heard of any ship having this ability before...?” Both of them agreed this was something entirely new and unheard of. “Ms. Raulya, please send a secure message to Admiral Kelarez and inform him of this development, maybe he'll have some insight into this...”
“Yes sir... wait, Commander, we've lost all contact with the shuttle and the boarding party!”
Walt quickly pulled up the video feed from the shuttle relay and found three blank frames... “I don't have a good feeling about this...”
■ ■ ■
Corporal Draza Mac looked up from the engineering console, “Thrusters and jets are up,” his fingers plugging away at the keypad, “main warmers next.”
Steele nodded inside his helmet, “Lieutenant, you've got thrusters and jets. Activate our running lights and get us away from the gate...” he waited but there was no response. “Lieutenant...” he looked around at the other Marines in the engineering section, “can you guys hear me?” He got a round of affirmative responses.
The Sergeant tried as well, calling each member of the bridge team by name with no response.
“Shuttle, this is Steele, can you hear me...?” Nothing but silence. He looked around at the Marines, “Pack it up, we're outta here.”
The Corporal looked up from the engineering console, “I haven’t finished setting up the warmup routine for the mains yet...”
“Don't care, we're done here. The thrusters are enough to get us off the gate, that's all I care about, let's go...” he turned and headed toward the front of engineering, weaving his way through the generators and equipment, the Marines filed in behind him. They stopped dead in their tracks as the lights flickered and went out, throwing them back into darkness, before the emergency lighting winked on, section by section, bathing everything in an eerie red glow. “Oh... what the fuck...”
“Shouldn't be happening Captain, the gennys are running, the batteries are charging, the thrusters and jets are on line...”
“Doesn't matter Marines, let's go,” he switched his wrist and helmet lights back on as he moved through the engineering bay headed for the blast doors leading to the spine of the ship and the air-car system. “We're done with this pile of shit... we ought to point it into the nearest planet and let it burn up.” As they neared the blast doors they began to open, slowly, grinding and squealing in protest, stopping about halfway open. Steele eyed the door, “Why don't I trust this door...” He knew he said it out loud but he wasn't expecting an answer, it was more of a rhetorical question. He jumped through, half expecting it to move, to try to block him or crush him. But it didn't. Whether it was what he said, or that the others were thinking along the same lines, each man made the same hesitant jump through the half open door, which sat there, seemingly stuck in place.
The first laser shot sizzled past, an angry red slash between them, reaching through the open blast doors, sending the men diving sideways to the left and right on the platform where it was wider than the tunnel. Another shot splashed into the door behind them. The Sergeant turned off his lights and peered around the corner, “Anybody see where it's coming from?”
Steele turned off his lights and peeked around the corner, up the tunnel, “High I think, like on the ceiling...”
“Defense turrets...” someone commented, “terrific.”
It prompted Jack to look up above them and realize there was a turret above them in front of the blast door, rotating back and forth but they were all too close, the barrel could not lower far enough to target them. “Look up,” he said drawing his pistol, “twenty feet out it would've shot us all in the back.” He raised the muzzle, clicked off the safety and let two rounds loose from the hybrid 1911, barking a very distinct, BWWAP, BWWAP, sending a pair of .45 caliber charged particle rounds up into the turret, a spray of sparks and debris falling to the floor around them, the turret going dark and lifeless. He grinned, glancing down at the 1911, “Niiice...”
“Can you see the other one?”
“No dammit, it's too dark... I think the ship put us in the dark on purpose...”
“Lemme try,” a Marine Private moved past Jack and edged around the corner, laid prone, bringing his electronic sight up and flipped off his carbine's safety. “Somebody run across...”
“Uh, let's not. I've got a better idea... ready?” asked Jack.
“Go ahead...”
Steele extended his arm and flashed his wrist light, then pulled it back. The laser shot sizzled past almost taking his hand off, splattering on the wall behind them. “Got a target...” breathed the Marine. He squeezed off a full-auto burst and literally blew the turret off the ceiling, the pieces and mechanism clattering to the floor of the air car troughs. “It looks like it's right above where the next alcove is,” said the young man, standing back up, “so I'm guessing there will be one at each.”
Since the ship had taken upon itself to shut down the air car system with the lights, it meant another long walk... at least they had gravity now. The heartbeat sound was still there... and the ship's air supply system produced a sound freakishly akin to breathing, fine dust floating in the red lights. Out of reflex, Steele turned his head in his helmet like a dog honing in on a sound, “Do you hear music...?”
The Sergeant paused a moment as he jumped down off the platform into the air-car trough, “Don't know if I'd call it music exactly but yeah, I'm hearing notes...”
They began to move up toward the bridge, walking in the troughs. “Sounds like a whale's song...”
“What's a whale?”
Steele thought about that for a minute, he wasn't sure how to describe it to someone who might not have anything to relate to it. “It's a very large sea creature that swims in the oceans on my planet.” As they neared the first alcove, they turned off their lights to prevent the next turret from targeting them... he hoped the turrets didn't use any type of thermal vision.
Stepping around the stalled air-car they had passed on the way in, Steele angled toward the alcove while the PFC set-up atop the car, pushing the corpse it contained to one side, setting up for a shot on the next turret, “Same plan Captain?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled, preparing to climb up onto the alcove platform, “I'm gonna try not to get my hand shot off...” The seven foot tall monster that stepped out of the dark red shadows of the alcove sent a jolt of adrenalin through his body that sent him wildly backpedaling, drawing his sidea
rm and cursing an unintelligible warning. A blue-green heliarc beam lanced out of the shadows sweeping across the tunnel in an arc towards him. Meeting the nose of the air-car behind him with the backs of his legs, he toppled over backwards, landing in the lap of the corpse belted inside. Out of sheer reflex, he had thumbed the safety off and began pulling the trigger long before falling, his first round ricocheting off the floor of the alcove, but the others connecting and stitching the thing starting at its thigh and continuing upward across its body, the last one cratering the forehead. Intense crimson streaks passed back and forth over Steele's sprawled body as the next turret worked to find him and the Marines returning fire from all around him, the PFC using Jack's helmet as a perch for his elbows, giving him a perfect view of the underside of the Marine's carbine as it hammered eye-searing streaks downrange.
“Got it!” The carbine disappeared and Steele could see the ceiling of the tube again. Heart pounding, hands numb, brain buzzing, his focus gradually started to widen. He safetied the 1911 and let it drop to his lap, still locked in the vice-grip that was his hand.
A helmeted face appeared above him, “You hit Captain?” Lifted by his armored vest to his feet, he found himself surrounded by the Marines. “Damn, that was some mighty fine shooting Captain; I didn't know that thing was full auto...”
Steele glanced down at it briefly before holstering it, “It's not... why?”
Two Marines were leaning over examining the thing lying on its back across the center divider of the air-car troughs, it's arms and legs stretched outwards, sparking, twitching. “Well you hit it five times... stitched it from crotch to forehead...”
The tunnel vision had cleared and Jack's senses were returning as he moved over to the group, taking a deep breath, “What the hell is it...?”
“Looks like a mining or maintenance droid...” the Sergeant stuck his gloved fingertip in one of the holes made by the .45 caliber charged particle slug. “Boy, you did a real number on him with that thing...”
“What was he shooting at us with? I don't see any weapon...” Steele looked around with his wrist and helmet lights on.
“This,” the Sergeant tapped on the small mechanical turret protruding from an open panel at the top of the android's right shoulder, “it's a cutting and welding laser... would'a sliced you right in half if he hit you with it,” he swept his hand through the air sideways for emphasis. “It's not designed for range, but inside 25 feet, being behind a bulkhead is the only thing that'll save you.”
“Damn thing is red; no wonder I couldn't see it in this light...” Steele waved them up the tunnel, “Let's go...” He was reasonably sure the red lighting and the red android were all part of a bizarre, diabolical scheme cooked up by the ship. He was really beginning to hate this ship. But where did the droid come from? More importantly, were there more of them, and where could they be hiding? There were other decks below the bridge that they'd passed without checking... He tried calling the Lieutenant on the bridge and the shuttle with no results, and that was worrisome... almost terrifying if he let his mind dwell on it, expanding on it, playing with it... it was hard to stop it once it started. Without realizing it, he'd drawn his sidearm again; the weight of the 1911 in his hand gave him something else to focus on.
Making their way through the dusky red darkness, floating dust, shifting and darting shadows, the ship's bizarre sounds playing with their minds, they passed the last two turrets, both of which were inexplicably inoperable. Steele took it upon himself to shoot them both anyway, either because he didn't trust them or because it made him feel a little better for it – getting even with the ship for its cruel plans... he wasn't sure which, maybe it was a little of both. The trek had taken about half the time as it did the first time, but it seemed twice as long. They climbed up onto the air-car platform, glad to have reached the forward section of the ship. As close as they were to the bridge, there was still no communications with anyone other than their team, so caution was critical. They advanced, stacked tactically, down the sloping corridor. As they neared the bottom of the ramp, the section doors slid open automatically, the turret on the ceiling near the center hallway junction swiveling in their direction. “Turret!” The point Marine on the right side wall of the corridor was ready, a short full-auto burst blowing the unit cleanly off its base, parts scattering across the floor. A figure rounded the corner towards them from the center corridor, so smoothly, so human-like it gave them pause... but only for a split-second. The nearly seven foot figure took the brunt of a hail of blaster fire, its blue-green heliarc beam flashing briefly, scoring the wall and ceiling as it toppled backwards to the floor, a smoking, charred heap. “Reloading...” several of them swapped power cells and Jack took the opportunity to do the same with his 1911.
Moving silently up the corridor, they paused at the intersection. Another turret at the intersection on the other side of the ship, beyond the elevators, scanned back and forth, an android standing beneath it. “S'cuse me, Captain.” The Sergeant switched places with Jack, taking the lead. Drawing a fragmentation grenade out of a pouch, he twisted the top and bottom of the baseball sized orb in opposite directions until it clicked and the top glowed green. Stepping clear of the corner he pitched it down the corridor and stepped back. The grenade bounced off the far wall and rolled back almost to the droid's feet, which looked down at it, unknowingly.
After the blast they checked the corridor, the floor wall and ceiling blackened, the droid literally unidentifiable, pieces scattered all the way up past the elevators, the turret just a gaping hole in the ceiling.
Steele smiled approvingly, “Nice...”
They found two shattered and blackened droids laying in the corridor outside the mangled, jammed-open bridge doors, a broken turret above them, dangling from its cables, parts scattered across the floor. The bridge was a mind-numbing aberration, a horror-fest of scorch marks, smoke, dust and debris. Shattered control panels, walls, ceiling and bodies, sliced and blackened. The team stood stunned, motionless, and speechless... it was difficult to comprehend.
“Sergeant... Sergeant, we need to account for everybody.” Moving woodenly about, they began the task of trying to account for the fallen Marines, two of the team watching the corridors, weapons ready. Steele found a Marine on the floor with a broken helmet and a wound but he appeared to still be alive. “Sergeant, find me an intact helmet.” He unlatched the man's helmet, tossing it aside and checked for a pulse. It was shallow but it was there, he needed oxygen. Taking the helmet handed him, he attached it and activated the suit's re-breather. He was the only surviving member of the team on the bridge, the Lieutenant was missing.
■ ■ ■
After sealing the hatch Jack pulled off his helmet and threw it on the floor of the shuttle in disgust. “Sonofabitch...” he ran his fingers through his hair and scratched his head, looking around at the silent, sullen Marines seated around him. He moved to the cockpit and crouched on one knee between Myomerr and Maria, “Take us out Ms. Myomerr.” He, stared out the dusty cockpit perspex at the spot where he knew the Lieutenant's body lay on the cargo bay floor, cut in pieces by a heliarc beam. “What a major fucking waste,” he breathed. The shuttle rose off the deck and Myomerr backed it out of the short bay, through the stasis field which wiped the layer of dust off all its surfaces. “Let's go home,” he said quietly, his eyes burning.
■ ■ ■
Jack Steele strolled past the Marine at the doors without making eye contact and onto the bridge of the Freedom, still wearing his atmosphere suit, armored vest and sidearm. He stopped and stood between Commander Edgars and his own command chair.
“Captain, good to see you! What happened over there? We were getting very concerned...”
Steele didn't acknowledge Walt, not because he was being rude but because he was so focused he didn't actually hear him. ”Helm, bring us about and our main guns to bear on the Oceania. Walt, recall all our birds. Ms. Raulya, have your gunners erase that evil piece of shit fro
m my sky - I don't want to see anything left bigger than a toaster.” He turned to leave but paused, “Mr. Ragnaar, when we're done here, head us to Klinghoffer to catch up with the Archer and Bowman.” He continued heading to the door, “Someone might also want to inform the folks at VirTech Mining their ship doesn't exist anymore - save them the trip.”
Walt stood up, “Captain... “
“Not now Walt, I need a drink...” he disappeared through the bridge door.
CHAPTER FOUR
FREEDOM, KLINGHOFFER: SEEK AND YE SHALL FIND
Eyes closed, head bowed, the soothing sound and feeling of the hot spray raining down across his neck and back was only interrupted by the muted intermittent zwump-zwump of the Freedom's main guns pounding on the Oceania. A couple swallows sitting warmly in his stomach, the partially drained snifter of Diterian brandy was calling his name from the edge of the sink. If he could figure out how to drink it in the shower without diluting the precious liquid, he probably would. He leaned against the opposite wall so the water could undo the tension in his muscles, as he mentally reviewed the events on the ore ship. Could they have done something different? hell, he wasn't sure what even happened, much less went wrong... He hoped the surviving Marine that his team had rescued from the bridge, would be able to shed some light on what happened up there when he came out of his induced coma. But would he even remember anything?
The dark, cloaked and hooded figure sipped his own snifter of Diterian brandy standing against the wall in the steamy room, reading the Captain's thoughts and emotions. “It is what it is Jack. Let it go...”
Recoiling in surprise, Jack Steele bounced off the side wall of the shower, sliding and catching himself on the grab-rail. “Shit! Voorlak?” He leaned against the side wall, clutching the rail, oblivious to his own nudity, “Dammit old man, we need to put a bell around your neck or something... you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) Page 5
