Frontiers 07 - The Expanse

by Ryk Brown

“Turning into contact. Slowing to two hundred thousand KPH, aye,” Mister Chiles answered.

  “Let’s get some fighter cover out there, Commander,” Nathan told his XO.

  “Green deck,” Cameron ordered, “launch the alert fighters. Have them take up protective positions around the Falcon. Stand by the rescue teams and ready the deck for recovery.”

  Nathan felt the Aurora make her turn to starboard as her speed reduced.

  “Captain, I’ve got their bio-monitor signals: rapid and irregular heart rates, low blood pressure, low respiratory tidal volume on Loki…” Mister Navashee suddenly turned his head toward the captain. “Josh isn’t breathing at all, sir.”

  “Comms, alert medical.”

  Lieutenant Kakayee flashed his ready sign to the launch officer and grabbed the hand rails on either side of his cockpit. A moment later, the massive door in front of him dropped into the floor, and his fighter shot forward with incredible acceleration. Despite his inertial dampeners, he was thrown back in his seat as his tiny fighter hurtled down the launch tube. Two seconds later, he could see the outer door approaching him rapidly. His pulse raced and his breath quickened. He had gone through this launch cycle at least a dozen times on training flights over the last few days, but every time he wondered if that final door would open before he slammed into it.

  The door fell away a moment later, opening the long launch tube to space, and the fighter shot out into the open, his main engines firing automatically as soon as he left the tube. “Talon One, airborne,” he reported.

  “Talon Two, airborne,” his wingman called out as well.

  Lieutenant Kakayee glanced over his right shoulder. His wingman, Lieutenant Mallard, was just behind him and to his right, having launched from the neighboring tube. He listened as the other two fighters announced their departure from the Aurora’s port launch tubes.

  “Talon One, Flight. Proceed to target,” the flight controller instructed over the comms. “Talon Three, establish outer perimeter and orbit.”

  “Talon One copies. Time on target: thirty seconds.” Lieutenant Kakayee looked to his left as the Aurora slid past his port side. He could see the other two fighters now as they pulled up higher relative to his own flight path. They would circle the Falcon at varying angles in order to provide cover in case another, possibly hostile contact suddenly appeared. Meanwhile, he and his wingman would intercept the Falcon. He had never met the Falcon’s flight crew, but he knew of them. Their actions at the battle of Answari had saved more than one of the lieutenant’s friends.

  “What’s going on?” Marcus asked as he ran into the starboard fighter alley. He grabbed a deckhand that was running past him. “What’s going on?”

  “They launched the alert fighters,” the deckhand answered.

  “Why?”

  “The Falcon, she’s back, but I think something’s wrong. I gotta go, Senior Chief.”

  Marcus let the deckhand go and made a dash for the forward ladder that led up to the observation rail and flight deck operations. After shooting up the ladder, he ran down the catwalk, bursting into the operations room.

  Master Chief Montrose was the first to notice the senior chief and immediately moved over to intercept him. Flight Ops was busy, and the last thing they needed was for Marcus to get in the way. Worried though he might be, his place was not in Flight Ops; it was down on the deck.

  “Marcus, you shouldn’t be in here.”

  “What’s going on?” he demanded. “What’s wrong with the Falcon? Are they all right?”

  “We don’t know yet,” the master chief told him. “It just appeared. They’re not answering comms, and their life signs are very weak.”

  “Whattaya mean ‘weak’?”

  “We believe they are unconscious, and…”

  “And what?”

  “It appears Josh isn’t breathing.”

  “What? Is he dead?”

  “No, he’s got a faint pulse, but if he’s not breathing, that won’t last long.”

  “Then get him down on the deck!” Marcus demanded.

  “We’re trying to figure out how to do that right now…”

  “Whattaya mean ‘trying to figure it out’? Activate the auto-flight system. It’ll bring him right down onto the same pad he took off from!”

  “They didn’t have auto-flight systems in those old interceptors.”

  “No shit! I had to install one myself!”

  “Wait,” the master chief said, somewhat confused. “You installed an auto-flight system in the Falcon?”

  “Yeah, back in Takara. It wasn’t an easy job, either.”

  “I don’t understand. If they have an auto-flight system, why hasn’t it activated?”

  “‘Cuz that stupid, little shit hates auto-anything! He never turns the damn thing on. That’s why I wired it for remote activation, so send the fucking code already!”

  “What’s the code?” the master chief asked.

  “It’s in the Falcon’s maintenance logs!” Marcus bellowed. “Don’t these stupid command types keep track of anything? It’s all in the Falcon’s spec sheets as well!”

  “Stay here!” Master Chief Montrose ordered, pointing at Marcus. “I mean it.”

  “Sir, flight reports Talon One has visual on the Falcon,” Naralena reported.

  “Patch him through to me,” Nathan ordered. A moment later, Naralena nodded that the channel was ready. “Talon One, Aurora Actual. What do you see?”

  “It’s the Falcon, sir, but she’s pretty banged up. Lots of exterior damage. Looks like she crashed, maybe more than once. And her canopy is busted. Her cockpit is open to space. I repeat, her cockpit is open to space.”

  “Is there any movement?”

  “No, sir. I can see the flight crew, but they are not moving.”

  “Captain, CAG!” Major Prechitt called.

  “Talon One, Aurora Actual. Stand by one.” Nathan quickly switched channels. “Go for Captain.”

  “Sir, the Falcon has auto-flight that can be remotely activated, but we need to be within close proximity to her in order to do so.”

  “Talon One is with her now.”

  “I know, sir. If the Falcon can still maneuver, we should get the Aurora as close to her and properly lined up as possible. Since we don’t know the state of her flight systems, the less she has to maneuver, the better.”

  “Copy that,” Nathan answered. “Mister Chiles,” he called.

  “On it, sir,” the helmsman answered as he pushed the Aurora to the left to prepare to turn around and come up under the damaged Falcon.

  “Major, we’re swinging wide to come around up under the Falcon now. As soon as we’re in position and close enough for you to activate her auto-flight, we’ll signal you.”

  “Yes, sir. The Falcon launched from the starboard pad, so that’s where her auto-flight will want to set her down again.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to set her down on the flight apron?” Nathan wondered.

  “Yes, sir, but we don’t know the extent of her damage. If we start trying to remotely manipulate her, we might cause more problems. Safest bet is to let the auto-flight put her back on the starboard pad. Besides, we can get her into pressure faster that way.”

  “Understood. Tell your fighters to back off and give us room.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Maybe it would be best if you let the rescue team handle it,” Master Chief Montrose told Marcus.

  “What would be best would be for you to get the fuck outta my way unless you like having a broken nose,” Marcus said in all sincerity.

  The chief of the boat looked the senior chief in the eyes. He knew his threat was serious. He also knew he could kick the senior chief’s ass without breaking a sweat. And he knew that if it was his kid, he’d feel the same way. “Very well, Marcus. Meet the rescue team on the gun deck. They’re gonna intercept the Falcon as she passes.”

  “Thanks,” Marcus grumbled.

  “They know what they’re doin
g, Senior Chief, so don’t get in the team’s way, or you could cost your boy his life.”

  Marcus didn’t answer the master chief but turned and ran out the door on his way to the gun deck.

  “Approaching the Falcon now, sir,” Mister Riley reported. “We’ll be in position in approximately fifteen seconds.”

  “Tell Flight Ops to stand by,” Nathan told Naralena.

  “Four hundred meters. Speed: one five zero,” the navigator called out to his helmsman. “Target speed: one three eight.”

  The helmsman, Mister Chiles, never touched the joystick. Unlike Josh, he felt quite comfortable performing precise maneuvers from the console. In fact, he preferred it. Flight algorithms were far more precise than manual manipulation could possibly hope to be. Joysticks were for fighter pilots and hotshot show-offs, as far as he was concerned.

  “Two hundred meters. Speed steady at one five zero. Stand by for braking in three seconds……and……begin braking.”

  Mister Chiles touched a button and initiated the next programmed maneuvering sequence, telling the Aurora to match the Falcon’s course and speed and to position herself directly below her.

  “Speed decreasing. Range closing. Five seconds to position.”

  Nathan watched the main view screen. The view was set looking aft from the camera directly behind the missile turret housing, which sat atop the center of the ship’s main section. The starboard launch and recovery pad was directly behind and slightly to starboard of that camera, so they had an excellent view of the Falcon as the Aurora slowly drifted into position. “She looks like she ran into the side of a mountain,” he mumbled.

  Cameron was also watching as she stood next to Nathan. Jessica watched from beside the tactical station directly behind the captain’s command chair.

  “How the hell did they get that thing all the way back here?” she wondered.

  “If I know Josh and Loki, by sheer determination,” Nathan mumbled.

  “In position, Captain.”

  Nathan gestured to Naralena, who immediately passed the signal on to Flight Ops. “Nicely done, gentlemen.” He watched as the Falcon fired her thrusters and began to descend, moving closer to the Aurora.

  “Why isn’t she deploying her landing gear?” Cameron asked.

  “Look at her gear bay doors,” Nathan told her.

  “They look like they’re buckled inward,” Cameron realized. “What the hell happened to them?”

  “Fifty meters. Ten seconds,” Mister Riley reported from the navigator’s station.

  “Is everybody in position?” Nathan asked.

  “COB has rescue and medical teams waiting on the gun deck. They’ve already got the doors to the elevator shaft open. They’ll jump in as she passes on her way down.”

  “Good.”

  “The senior chief’s there as well,” Cameron added.

  Nathan looked at her. “That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

  “I suspect the senior chief didn’t leave the COB much choice.”

  “I suspect not,” Nathan agreed.

  “Five seconds,” Mister Riley reported.

  Nathan watched as the Falcon settled onto the pad on its belly, listing slightly to port as the pad’s artificial gravity came to life in order to hold the Falcon against the pad’s deck as it descended.

  “Contact,” Mister Riley reported.

  Nathan watched the view screen, waiting for the pad to start its journey down into the ship. “Why isn’t the pad coming down?”

  “They have to safe the Falcon’s engines first,” Cameron reminded him.

  “Pad is coming down,” Mister Riley reported.

  Nathan looked back up at the view screen to see the Falcon disappear into the top of the Aurora, the outer doors to the elevator tube closing over her so the tube could begin rapid repressurization. Nathan jumped from his seat, then paused to look at Cameron.

  “Go,” she told him. “I’ve got the bridge.”

  “I’ll be in medical,” he yelled as he ran out of the bridge.

  “Follow us, Senior Chief,” the rescue team leader instructed Marcus.

  “Yeah, yeah, no problem!” Marcus yelled. The Aurora’s gun deck was located two decks below her upper main hull and ran underneath the eight mini-rail gun pods that lined the perimeter of the ship’s main section. Most of the deck was used to store rail gun ammunition in a series of automated hoppers that could be directed to any rail gun that needed them. In addition, much of the Aurora’s forward environmental and life support systems were located here. The gun deck lacked the acoustical dampening properties of the ship’s main habitation spaces; hence it was quite noisy.

  Both the port and starboard forward elevator pads that led from the flight deck to the Aurora’s topside were also used to move cargo and machinery from the cargo deck at the bottom of the ship up to the gun deck. The starboard access door had already been overridden and opened in order to access the elevator pad on its way down.

  “They’re not going to stop her on this floor, sir,” the leader of the rescue team told Marcus. “They’ll just slow it down a bit so we can jump on as it passes. That way, we can start extrication on the way down. With any luck, we’ll have them out by the time we get to the hangar deck.”

  “Fifteen seconds,” the officer in charge of the gun deck called out.

  “She’ll still be moving pretty fast, so be careful. Best thing to do is to just take a giant step out after she passes and let yourself fall straight down feet first. Bend your knees when you land; it’s farther than it looks. But there’s no roof above the pad so…”

  “I’m chief of the deck, mister,” Marcus reminded him. “I’ve ridden the elevator before.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Stand ready!” the officer of the deck ordered. The four rescue men and the four medical specialists stepped up to the edge of the massive open doorway. They spaced themselves apart evenly, with enough space between them for the gear they carried. Marcus stepped up to the end of the line as well. He looked out into the open elevator shaft. It was open all the way down to the hangar deck, and he could see more men standing six decks below on the hangar deck looking up at them.

  Marcus looked up at the underside of the elevator shaft as it descended quickly toward them. Each of the men checked their positions to ensure they were not leaning into the doorway so much that they might be struck by the descending pad. Marcus did the same.

  Finally, the massive elevator pad passed by his face. The pad, with all its support structures and motor compartments, was several meters thick in all, and it took several seconds for it to completely pass them by. As soon as it passed below their waists, all eight men tossed the rescue bags out onto the descending elevator pad. All sixteen bags fell in unison, and the row of men stepped off a moment later as the elevator passed their feet.

  Marcus stepped off as well, only a moment later. Both rescue teams had obviously rehearsed this maneuver before, as they made it look as easy as skipping the bottom step on a staircase. The senior chief’s landing was not as graceful, and he fell to one side as his feet touched. By the time he got up, the first two rescue men were already climbing up onto the Falcon, while the other two men began checking that her systems were properly shut down and there were no other fire, electrical, or chemical hazards that might threaten the safety of either the rescue teams or the flight crew they were there to rescue.

  Marcus charged past the four medical specialists as they were unpacking their gear in preparation to begin treatment. He followed the first two rescue men up onto the starboard wing-body’s leading edge. The rescue men had chosen to straddle the battered fuselage and slide forward from behind the cockpit, as there was no boarding ladder available to them at the moment.

  Marcus knew what they were trying to do, as the canopy’s manual release mechanism was located at the rear of the canopy on either side. He also knew that the canopy had a tendency to stick when you tried to slide it forward, as it was not originall
y designed to do. He used the two step wells built into the side of the fuselage a meter below the canopy alongside each flight seat. The wells were designed to give when kicked with the toe of a boot if the ship was in a pressurized environment. Marcus kicked the aft step well in, and the cover folded up and in nicely. He brought his leg over and stuck his left foot into the step well toe first, grabbed the edge of the broken canopy, and hoisted himself up and over.

  “What are you doing, Senior Chief?” the rescue man on top of the fuselage yelled.

  “Don’t worry about me! Just get the canopy released!” Marcus replied as he kicked in the next step well alongside the forward seat position and inserted his right foot. In one smooth motion, he hoisted himself up and swung his right leg up over the nose of the Falcon, mounting it like a hover-bike.

  At that moment, he looked inside the forward canopy windshield. He could not see Josh’s face through his helmet’s sun visor, as it was polarized to reflect sunlight, but he wasn’t moving at all. No rise and fall of the chest, not even a twitch of a finger.

  There was a loud pop as Marcus felt the canopy’s broken frame vibrate.

  “Canopy is released!” the rescue man called from aft of the canopy.

  Marcus planted his feet against the small canards on either side of the Falcon’s nose, standing slightly as he grabbed the leading edge of the canopy that now stuck out after being released from its aft rail locks. He lifted up as he pulled the canopy forward toward the ship’s nose. “Push!” he ordered the rescue man at the rear of the canopy. The battered piece of metal and clear canopy resisted at first, then finally sprung free, gliding cleanly forward on its rollers. Marcus slid backwards, falling off the nose of the Falcon and landing hard on his backside on the elevator pad below. Luckily for him, the artificial gravity on the pad was only at three-quarters of the ship’s normal gravity. Otherwise, the medical team might have been treating him as well.

  The canopy screeched to a stop, not quite as far forward as it was designed to go. But it was enough to gain clear access to the Falcon’s flight crew. “Adjust pad gravity to one-half normal!” the rescue man called over his comm-set.