by Casey Herzog
Swimming up the main arterial corridor of the ship, Peter struggled to keep pace with Minerva. She was as fluid and graceful in this space as a fish in water. By comparison, he must have looked like a first-time diver trying to get his flippers to behave. He felt his embarrassment mounting every time she was forced to wait for him to catch up.
When they reached the highest point on the corridor, they floated against a lock door. Minerva slipped past Peter and pressed her thumb to the small scanner. There was a harsh noise, and then the door opened. To ensure Peter got through before the door shut, Minerva grabbed him by the scruff of his suit collar and kicked upward, propelling them effortlessly into the control hub of the Unity.
All twenty chiefs of staff were there, along with the twelve cohort leaders and their seconds. While the majority all had their eyes firmly fixed on the window or a screen, a few looked to Peter with unfriendly eyes.
“Who the hell is this?” Chief Evans, third in command of the Unity and the ship’s combat specialist called everyone’s attention to Peter's presence, and he felt immediately that he wasn’t welcome.
Alphred quickly swam to Peter's side, taking his position in front of him. “Peter Gabell, Pluto Cohort. I invited him here as my elected third.”
Chief Evans floated forward and sneered as he looked past the Alphred. “The concession to allow cohort leaders to take a third was a privilege we expected to be taken seriously. You were not to use the power just to bring along the first buddy you make.”
“I can assure you, Chief Evans, Gabell has already shown several qualities I wish to see-”
“- Shut up, both of you.” Admiral Gayle's order cut through the quarrel, killing it in one hit. “We have slightly more pressing matters. A freighter, cargo by its look, just passed the Earth Gate without announcing itself. It has ignored all communications attempts and seems to be on course to collide with the Unity. It's a pre-emptive attack from the outer planets.”
“Is the ship unmanned?” The cohort leader for Jupiter asked.
“Unknown. It's correcting course. Every time we adjust the Unity to avoid collision, the freighter moves to match our trajectory.”
“So, evasive maneuvers are out of the question. Are there any other ships in the area who could assist?”
“None.” The comms officer, strapped into the control booth, shook his head. His teeth were gritted.
“There's our shuttle. If it's on a collision course, we could sacrifice her in a ramming action.”
The admiral shook his head. “Negative. This ship has cost us enough already. Losing the Dove would set the mission back by at least eight months for a replacement to be made.”
“What about the shuttle we came in on?” Minerva popped the question in a slightly timid voice. “Surely that is still docked with us and isn't nearly as valuable as the Dove.”
“The pilot is a civilian, we can't ask-”
“- I can fly her.” Minerva spoke with a singular confidence, stalwart as she looked back at her detractor.
Admiral Gayle didn't waste a second. Unlike the rest of the staff and cohort leaders, he just listened to Minerva. “Fine, we'll go with that.”
“Admiral, I really think-”
“- We have freighter bearing down on us; now is not the time to overthink things.” The Admiral glanced to the three youngest people in the room. “Get on your space suits at once, all three of you, and rendezvous with the shuttle. We will try to buy you as much time as possible from here. Force that freighter to change course if you can. If you can't...I trust you to do your duty.”
Peter could feel the color draining from his face. He knew when his name was engraved on the Monument of Pilgrims there was a real chance he would not return to Earth. He had not expected his journey to be end on day one, not on a suicide mission ramming a freighter.
As soon as the order was given, all chiefs and cohort leaders set to their appointed stations, the leaders of Neptune and Uranus Cohort accompanying Alphred, Minerva and Peter to get their suits and help prep them for flight as soon as could be arranged.
As Peter was helped into his suit, he shot Alphred a contemptuous look. “Hey, I have a great idea, Peter. Why don't you be my third and then we can all go off in a shuttle kamikaze style. Then, everyone in the cohort will like you because you've saved their lives and are dead.”
Minerva giggled. Alphred didn't. “We knew the risks when we signed up for this mission. The secessionists weren't just going to let us travel out from Earth Gate without giving us a warning.”
Peter bit his bottom lip. His commander was, annoyingly correct. “It just sucks is all. I was really looking forward to that tour of the ship before I kicked the bucket.”
Minerva smiled. She reached over and took Peter's hand. “I know what you mean. It is a nice ship. I'm fortunate to have been on board for several months already. However, I think we're going to survive this.”
Peter looked to her. He couldn't help but find this girl funny, even now. “Care to give any proof to help me get behind your optimistic read on things?”
“Well, for one thing, I am a really good pilot. Second of all, with you two with me, we might just be able to pull off a docking with the freighter.”
“What?” Alphred and Peter both spoke at once, and the two cohort leaders helping them into their suits exchanged bewildered glances.
“I mean, I think I can do it. If we can get on top of the freighter, there's a chance you two could get inside and alter its course.”
Alphred's lip contorted as he thought Minerva’s plan through. “As a percentage, how confident are you in pulling this off?”
Minerva shrugged. “About sixty percent, maybe. It depends on the variables, but I'll know when we're out there.
Alphred nodded, his face becoming a still pond once more. He had committed to the plan, so he addressed the cohort leader for Uranus, “We're going to need explosives, a saw...anything that can open hull plate.”
“At once.” the Uranus leader, also an Armstrong, floated away, leaving Alphred to finish suiting himself up.
Minerva was more than adept at suiting herself, so the Neptune cohort leader floated over to Peter, who was beginning to feel like the third wheel in this operation Alphred and Minerva were cooking up on the fly.
***
As they returned to the ship that had brought them to the Unity, Peter couldn’t help but feel they were about to try and take on a tank with a school bus. That was what this shuttle was after all. It was just a transporter. He kept his pessimistic fears to himself, though he was sure Alphred and Minerva both knew his feelings well enough already.
The two in command of Pluto Cohort were opposite ends of a spectrum. Peter had heard before that radical differences in personality could lead to some interesting parallels. Both were clearly invested in the mission given them, both unflinching in their determination and confidence. The difference between them was that Minerva derived her confidence from a seemingly boundless sense of optimism and vitality, while Alphred gained his courage from a sense of military duty drummed into him through years of training and conditioning. They were total contrasts exactly alike.
“Are you strapped in back there?” Minerva asked the question like she was a mother fussing over her child before a road trip.
“All good. If you crash the ship, I’m confident my safety harness will save me.”
“That’s the spirit!” Minerva turned back and offered Peter a heart-warming smile as she disengaged the shuttle from its docking port.
Peter clutched his seat in surprise. The previous pilot had spent ages ensuring he docked correctly with the Unity, and most pilots would not rush the delicate undocking maneuvers of a ship. Minerva seemed to treat the shuttle like it was nothing more than a banged-up car for her to abuse as she saw fit. She didn’t even seem to work up a sweat as she deftly eased the shuttle away from the Unity with singular ease.
Alphred didn’t seem as impressed with Minerva’s display as
Peter was. He kept his eyes locked on the data feeds while the shuttle danced to Minerva’s tune. A glance in his direction revealed he was looking at some schematics. He was scanning the cargo freighter for possible weaknesses, never registering that the shuttle was in motion. It amazed Peter to see his commander so single-minded.
“I don’t suppose you’re coming up with some elaborate plan that will help us avoid the nuclear option?” Peter didn’t even try to hide the nervousness in his voice.
“Minerva’s right; a docking is possible.” It was half an answer.
Peter bit his lip. It was obvious Alphred was not going to share his thoughts easily. Leaning back in his chair, he just nodded inside his suit. He was recalling a song he had liked from way back. It was one of the first singles he had heard on the radio after his rescue. It was a small attempt at building courage. If you couldn’t face a problem, block it out.
“We need as much time with the freighter as you can buy us.”
“Already burning the thrusters one hundred percent. When this is done, we’re going to need a pick up from somewhere.”
“That’s assuming we’re alive,” Peter added. Neither of his companions answered him.
For a time, the shuttle ploughed through the vacuum of space. The freighter they were headed toward was still a considerable distance from the Unity, and it took nearly half an hour of flying in order to reach her; the journey was made in near total silence. It was an organized silence; however, and Peter could see a lot was happening in Alphred’s head as he poured over the data he had before him. Only when the Armstrong seemed happy with all he had seen did he allow himself to connect properly with the outer world again.
“Do we have an ETA, Minerva?”
“Bearing up on her now, but it will take a while longer to correct course and pull alongside her for a docking though.”
“We’re not going to dock with her.” Alphred’s comment drew the pilot’s and Peter’s attention equally.
“You want me to just ram her?” For the first time, Minerva’s voice wavered, proving she was not totally unconcerned for her continuing existence.
“No, we just need a fly by. We have hook shots. Peter and I can fire grapples onto the freighter’s hull as we pass over her and work our way inside with cutters. You just focus on turning the shuttle about for a ramming action if we fail to wrest control of the ship in time.” Alphred didn’t wait for his pilot to respond, and turned his attention toward Peter. “Come on, unbuckle yourself and follow me to the airlock door. Whatever you do, don’t fall out, and don’t let go of this.”
Peter was dumbstruck as he was handed a long metal device that looked just like a harpoon launcher. As he inspected it more closely, he realized it actually was one. “You’re going to have us shoot at a passing freighter and hope to God we can use the rope to draw ourselves to her?”
“No need to act so surprised, Peter. That freighter is a large target, and we’ll be passing right over her. As I said, the trick will be to not let go of the wire.” Alphred had zero fear or sympathy on his face. He couldn’t explain it, but Peter badly wanted to punch his commander in that moment. Instead, he just gripped the gun tightly and floated after him.
As Alphred began to force open the airlock, Peter gripped the metal rail. He held it as tightly as he could, his fingers almost in pain from the effort. This day was going to see him doing a lot of firsts. Already it had been his first time in space, first time on the Unity, and now he was going to have his first experience of open vacuum, rappelling onto a ship and risking the chance of floating off into deep space, never to be seen again.
As the thought of dying lost and alone in the great cosmos filled him, the look of that great vastness staring at him began to change. The stars seemed to dim, and the blackness grew, thickened, even seemed to try and invade the open airlock, as though seeking to grab him and pull him out. His skin was turning deathly pale in his suit. He wanted to throw up, but the fear he felt at that moment overrode even this reaction.
Alphred must have sensed his partner’s apprehension at that moment. He turned to face Peter, giving him his full attention. “It’s going to be fine, really. We’ll have visuals of the freighter at any moment. I promise you, it’ll be impossible to miss, and these things pack a punch. Your rope won’t come loose.”
“You’ve done this before?” Peter asked, hopefully.
“Never once, no one has. The theory is sound though, and probes use it to anchor to asteroids all the time.”
“You really missed your calling as a motivational speaker, you know that?”
Minerva, who must have been listening in from her suit communicator let out a chuckle at Peter’s words. Between her humor and Alphred having all the warmth and comfort of a freezer, Peter found himself getting wound up. “Screw it, let’s just do this.”
Peter looked to the void again with gritted teeth, taking deep breaths as the shuttle’s lights began to reveal the metal hull of the freighter below. He trained the barrel of his harpoon out into the abyss. There was little need for aiming. As Alphred had promised, the hull was huge and took up the entirety of their vision from the shuttle. Seeing this helped bolster Peter’s spirits even more. There was no way his harpoon could miss, even if he tried to do so.
“You’re good to go now? If you’re uncertain, stay with Minerva; I can’t baby sit you once we go.” Alphred had lined his shot and was waiting to go.
“Shut up, sir,” Peter answered. “I’m good, just say when.”
Alphred didn’t acknowledge Peter, just kept his eye on the moving hull. Peter didn’t know what his leader was looking for, but when he saw it, he acted. “Go.” In that same moment, Alphred shot his harpoon and his body zipped out of the shuttle, disappearing into the dark.
Peter’s eyes widened. For a brief moment, he thought he had turned to stone, and he could no longer control his limbs. Only a voice in his ear brought him back to life again.
“Peter, go now!” It was Alphred. His voice acted like a kind of cushion of reassurance. He hadn’t just disappeared into the void, never to be seen again. He had made it to the freighter and was now likely tying himself to the hull.
Peter closed his eyes as he pulled the trigger. He put all his effort into holding tightly to the gun as he felt the harpoon fire outward into the darkness. There was a momentary delay, and he opened his eyes. Then his body moved. The harpoon yanked on him, pulling him out into the abyss, hurtling towards the moving freighter at some speed. He wanted to close his eyes again, but fear kept them wide open. It took a few seconds for him to see the bulkhead of the freighter. By the time he did, it was too late to attempt a precision landing. All he could do was grit his teeth and put out one hand to shield his more fragile helmet from the impact.
Pain erupted throughout his right side. His suit padding hadn’t been sufficient to absorb all of his impact with the ship, and he winced as he tried to flex his right wrist. He could move it, but it hurt to do so. It was likely a bruised bone, but no fracture of breakage.
“Peter! Peter, engage your electromagnets; you’re drifting!”
Alphred’s words brought Peter back to the moment. The pain in his wrist was forgotten in an instant. The fear of being adrift in the cosmic void was far more terrifying. He scrambled to his wrist-mounted computer. In his panic, he almost forgot how to activate his suit magnets, and he began pressing wildly at buttons until he stumbled upon the right one. All at once, his body flipped. His head, which had been floating just above the freighter’s hull was whipped around to the proper position, as the magnets in his feet demanded connection with the metal beneath them. The landing sent another shudder of pain through Peter, this time in his ankles.
“Get over here now, I need you to help with the cutters.” Alphred’s orders were made clinically, with no concern for Peter’s mental state. This was good though. Peter could get worked up about this, hating the stick up his commander’s backside was a good motivator. He turned about and walked t
owards the area where Armstrong was already working.
Sparks were flying off the hull as Alphred sheared the metal. The other saw floated by his side, tied to his belt by a piece of thin wire. Peter silently took the saw and moved over to the opposite side of his commander. Kneeling, he activated the saw blade, the diamond teeth biting at the hull greedily. Sparks flew up into the darkness, illuminating them both as they moved to make a circular hole through which they could.
It took a little time, but eventually they had created an entrance. A circular sheet of thick metal began to float freely and Alphred threw this piece out to drift. There was still a tangle of wires, pipes, and another metal sheet to contend with in order to get completely into the ship, but these obstructions offered far less resistance. Before long, their hole into the freighter was complete.
