“Understood Sir.”
“Are you sure you’re up to this?”
“Yes Sir, I am,” she answered in a stern voice, “Permission to be excused?”
The word, “Granted,” was barely out of his mouth before Kami was all but running from the room. As she was stepping through the hatch he stopped by saying, “I hope your feelings are clear on this Commander.”
She paused there briefly resting a hand on the door frame. Looking back, her eyes screamed out some well suppressed terror or panic. “Crystal, Sir,” she answered in a subdued voice. She disappeared quickly once he waved her off; the hatch hissing closed on her heals.
Leaning back in his chair, Styles stared after her deep in thought. It’s a hard thing Kami. When calling the shots for hundreds of people you’ll never know, making decisions that decide their fate, you can lie to yourself. Reduce those lives to mere numbers. Lines on a casualty report. When that same decision affects a person you care for. Someone who puts their life on the line, and you have the power to stop it. Letting out a long sigh, Styles reached out plucking a picture affixed to his desk lamp. A younger version of himself gazed back at him, standing proudly with arms crossed. Lounging next to that youthful visage was his old friend Russell. A single tear escaped from the corner of his eye. He knew full well the tumult of emotions running through Kami. It was the only reason he allowed the charade to continue for the moment. “I’m sorry Russ,” he whispered quietly.
***
Preparations for the recon mission moved surprisingly fast once a suitable ship was located. The SS Cortés, named in honor of its spirit of exploration, was a squat and bulbous thing. Covered from stem to stern with a wide array of antenna and dishes it was a wonder there was any room on her hull to mount the fighters. The crew wasn’t very pleased at having their vessel pressed into service. However, the promise of hefty compensation in the event of a mishap placated her captain.
Climbing awkwardly into the cockpit of his razor proved trickier than Jeff could have imagined. The sound of his breathing echoed through his helmet as he pulled himself down into the seat. Only the feel of the harness latching closed told him he was secured into the craft before releasing the tether stretching to a nearby shuttle. Lowering the canopy, an audible hiss permeated the chamber moments after the cockpit was sealed as the razor’s life support systems came alive.
“This has got to be the dumbest damned thing you harebrained flyboys ever tried!” Sparkplug gripped over the channel. “Never thought I’d be mounting fucking razors to the Goddamned hull of some pig of a ship using the hard points to lock ’em down. Never thought to ask ol Sparkplug if you could do it either. Oh no, just shows up on the flight deck sayin, ‘Hey Sparky, we need you to bolt some razors to a survey ship.’ You guys are a real fuckin piece of work.”
“You still moaning about that Sparky?” Curtis’ laugh crackled over the radio.
Faint grumbles cascaded across the channel before Sparkplug announced, “You ass hats just remember there’s no telling if this is going to work. Jumping into sup-loom bolted to this sow has never been tried. Damn fools. Would serve you right to be tore off soon as this crate jumps.”
Smiling, as Sparkplug continued to lavishly berate the entire situation, Jeff ran through his fighters prep routine. Weapons, engines and computer functions all checked by rote. It was a gamble, but he couldn’t see any alternative as Curtis, James and himself prepared for the risky endeavor.
“Ladies and gentleman, this is your captain speaking,” Jason’s voice cracked over the speaker. “Just calling back to make sure you’re all strapped in cause this here ain’t gonna be a smooth ride. Been a while since I’ve flown anything bigger than a razor and the extra fifty-four tons we got strapped on this crate won’t make things no easier.”
“You afraid Gunsmoke?” Jeff asked in jest.
“Shit no.” It was the closest thing to sounding insulted Jeff ever heard from the stolid man. “I’ve got the easy part. And if anything does go wrong. Well, Mako’s not the worst last sight a man can have.”
“You keep your hands off my girl Captain,” Jeff jokingly threatened.
“Now ain’t you sweet sugar,” Alison called back. “But we both know I’ve only got eyes for that jungle man out there with you.”
“You sure that’s eyes and not thighs?” James added sarcastically.
“Wait till we get back Skid,” Alison purred in her sultry way. “You just might find out.”
“I hate to intrude on your party out there,” Kami interrupted over the open channel. “But we do have a mission to get underway. So if you’re quite finished busting each other’s chops, could we please get on with it?”
“Copy Victoria,” Jeff replied, a little aggravated at the XO’s resolute adherence to the rulebook. “Do we have confirmation on return route?”
“When you’ve completed your scan you’ll jump to coordinates lambda zero one point zero six about five parsecs out from G five one one five.”
“Talk about going out of the way,” Jeff said about the remoteness of the star system.
“Would you rather lead the Drac back to the fleet Commander?” Kami bit. She was obviously still smarting from being overruled the day before.
“No Sir,” he said, throwing her tone right back, “Just concerned about the Cortés making three long distance jumps in short order. She’s not exactly top of the line.”
“The UES Saratoga will be there to collect you in case something goes amiss,” Kami’s voice cut with impatience. “Is that enough to calm your nerves danger boy?”
Jeff ground his teeth at the not too subtle jab. “Copy Victoria,” he seethed before barking, “Sparkplug, are we ready to move?”
“Watch your tone ass hat,” the grizzled chief grated. “So far as I’m concerned this shit show will never be ready. But seeing as you don’t listen to me anyway I’m going to say it’s as close as it’s gonna get. Just don’t any of you come crying to me if this tub falls apart.”
“I appreciate the confidence Sparkplug,” Jeff sassed the surly man. “Okay Gunsmoke, take us out.”
“Just don’t jostle us around too much,” Curtis joked over the channel. “We don’t need Sparky foaming at the mouth.”
“All right ladies,” Jason called out, “sit back, relax, and kiss your ass’s good bye.”
Jeff studied his instruments one final time, anticipating the test before them. Settling back in his seat, he flexed his fingers on the controls and gazed through the concave bowl of the canopy. Outside, the retreating work tugs began to rotate out of his vision as the Cortés maneuvered away from the fleet. Not being in control lent a hint of disorientation to the experience. A flight of razors swung close to give the team a sendoff and Jeff began his mental calming exercise. Fragments of information scrolled across his visors HUD, he paid it no mind, concentrating instead on the soothing prairie while the SLD countdown echoed through his ears. Taking a deep breath as the final seconds ticked down, he gasped when the ship’s SLD engines kicked in. He felt exposed. Strapped into the comparatively small fighter, witnessing the majesty of superluminal in one-hundred eighty degrees, magnify the stomach turning effects of the jump. Squeezing his eyes shut, his head spun as if it were his first superluminal experience. It took him near to a minute to recover, the razors proximity alarms alerting him to enemy craft was a mere buzzing in his ears. The coughing and groans he heard over the channel, when he came to, told him the feelings were mutual.
After clearing his head, he was about to signal the rest of the crew when the thought was pushed aside by what he saw outside the canopy. The sickly purplish hull of a Drac ship dominated the view. His mouth went dry at the thought of being so close to one. Scanning his gaze about the massive craft, his eyes followed it in every direction he could turn his head. The gargantuan vessel stretched far into the distance before revealing a spattering of shiny pinpricks representing the expected star field just at the edge of his vision. “Jesus Christ Guns
moke,” he breathed into his mic. “Think you could have gotten us closer?”
“You’re the one that wanted a good view,” Jason grunted. “We’re plenty clear still. Just over seven-hundred meters clear.”
“Fuck me,” James chimed in.
“You’re not kidding,” Jeff agreed getting a flutter in his stomach. “Okay, Skid, Spanky. What’s your status?”
“Everything checks out,” James announced.
“I’m showing a problem with two hard points,” Curtis said. “Seems Sparky wasn’t blowing smoke up our ass this time.”
“Copy. Keep an eye on that.” Checking the HUD, Jeff found the razor’s target tracker only identifying maybe two or three craft in the vicinity. It gave him an uneasy feeling, reminiscent of what happened during his power dive through Euphrates atmosphere. “Mako,” he called keying up the Cortés, “I’m getting some funny readings here. What’s your scope say?”
“Got a little static on the display but otherwise normal,” Alison chirped. “Lots of Drac ships out there. A lot more than Wesker said. Funnily enough they don’t seem to notice us. That monster out there is pumping out a lot of energy, could be masking our position.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time that troll was wrong,” Jeff muttered under his breath before calling back, “Copy. Keep monitoring I don’t want any surprises.” Looking over his own readouts a moment he added, “In fact, Gunsmoke, rotate one eighty on the Y axis. I’d like to keep a visual on them as well.”
“You got it boss,” Jason replied. Slowly, the hull of the massive Drac weapon rotated away giving Jeff the sense of righting an inverted craft. He welcomed the sight of the star field, and the sense of comfort its familiarity brought. But the brief feeling of ease was quashed when he caught sight of the plethora of Drac space cruisers silently floating against the stellar canvas. His instruments were next to useless due to the interference from the cannon ship. But he guessed the closest ships were in the realm of sixteen kilometers distant. More than close enough for them to be picked up. Still, the vulgar craft made no move to intercept the survey ship, and Jeff felt as if he were under an alien microscope.
A sudden jolt brought him out of the thought. It was quickly followed by Curtis crying, “Son of a bitch! My port wing just got shaved nearly in half!”
“What the hell was that?” Jeff barked. The star field swung wildly about him as the Cortés retreated from the colossal weapon. He quickly checked his weapons and scanned the HUD. No nearby targets were identified.
“Beats the fuck out of me,” Jason called back. He sounded as if he were having trouble fighting with the ship as it wildly spun from the surface of the Drac cannon.
“Some kind of force field,” Alison added a bit flustered, “but I don’t see it on the scope!”
Next, the razor’s targeting system began peeling alerting Jeff to incoming fighters. “Well, whatever it is, it sure as shit got the Drac’s attention. My sensors show maybe two or three toads closing. Confirm.”
“I’m showing a dozen over here,” James answered. Alison called close on his heels doubling that number.
“Guess they didn’t take too kindly to that love tap,” Jason quipped.
Curtis added, “Neither did I.”
“Fuck,” Jeff muttered under his breath. “How much have we scanned already?”
“Barely half,” Alison said. “If Gunsmoke pushes this tub for all it’s worth—”
“Toads are coming in hot Knight,” James interrupted.
Jeff made a vexing sound before saying, “I don’t want to risk it Mako. Gunsmoke, get us the hell out of here.”
“With pleasure,” Jason grunted.
“TAT ain’t gonna be happy with you, Sugar, if you only get half the job done,” Alison countered.
“I don’t think you heard the man,” Curtis broke in. “On top of that, I’m not particularly interested in dying today.”
“We’re not going to get another chance at this Jungle Man.”
Jeff growled to himself knowing she was right. “How long till those toads catch up?”
“Maybe ten minutes,” Alison reported.
“Jeff, you’re not seriously considering this,” Curtis began to plead.
Jeff pushed the argument away calling to Jason, “You’ve got six minutes Gunsmoke. Hit the gas and keep the SLD hot.” Gripping the flight yoke like a vice, he squeezed his eyes shut hoping he’d made the right call. “Skid,” he said after a moment, “get ready to disconnect and engage.”
Whatever replies came back over the radio where lost to him as the hull of the massive ship began sweeping past ever faster. Blips continued to multiply on the HUD as the wicked Drac fighters steadily closed on the survey ship. In fact, the nimble alien craft were far out pacing the Cortés. Jeff’s heart pounded in his ears as the distance between himself and the hunters quickly ticked down. The cannon ship’s hull was a blur in his peripheral vision, the blips on the HUD all but consuming all his attention. Flexing his fingers on the flight stick a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. Thirty Kilometers, he thought sourly, “That’s too close Gunsmoke, I want out of here now!”
“On it boss,” Jason’s voice crackled and the ship rolled once more. Alison balked at the sudden change of direction, arguing they had a few more seconds before they’d be in weapons range. As soon as the ship was clear, a hail of blue death surrounded them in defiance of her protest.
Jeff gritted his teeth as Jason pushed the Cortés through maneuvers it wasn’t designed for all the while the razor’s console wept in alarm over the encroaching enemy. The Drac easily matched the ships trajectory and began scoring hits along the survey ship’s hull. The jostling pressed Jeff into action. Releasing the safety on the hard points, he readied himself to launch into a melee he knew he’d never return from. “Gunsmoke,” he called, a hint of nerves tinging his voice, “now would be a good time to—” the sickening feeling of the superluminal jump cracked him between the eyes like a hammer.
CHAPTER 29:
FRAYING EDGES
A cacophony of klaxons blared through the cockpit as Curtis wrestled with the flight stick attempting to arrest control of his razor. The moorings holding his fighter to the Cortés had failed when the ship emerged from superluminal and the sight of the survey ship tumbling in and out of view left him breathing hard and frantically whipping the controls about. The blood rushing through his ears pounded to the rhythm of his heart and it was all he could do to concentrate on righting the out of control craft.
“Hey Spanky you okay?” Jeff’s voice asked over the radio.
“Just dandy,” Curtis grunted. “Damn razor doesn’t want to play nice with half a wing missing.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Jeff replied barking in laughter.
“Dramatic my ass!” Curtis growled back. Gritting his teeth, he wrenched the flight stick over while nimbly tapping the ships pedals succeeding in slowing the erratic spin. Breathing a sigh of relief as the fighter began to sluggishly respond to his touch he said, “She’s coming around now.”
“You okay Spanks? You sound a bit frazzled,” Jeff asked.
Gaining control of the craft Curtis said, “I’m fine,” chuckling nervously. “A little too close to death’s door for my tastes though.”
“Come on Spanks. Are you going to tell me something as simple as an erratic spin is going to ruffle your feathers? I thought you were tougher than that.”
“I was talking about whatever ripped my wing off jackass!” Curtis barked heatedly. “I don’t know why I promised Laura to keep an eye on you. Your crazy ass is gonna get me killed one day.”
“I don’t take stupid risks Spanks.”
“And what do you call that shit you pulled back there?” Curtis shouted. “You stuck around long enough to let those toads get a good run at us!”
“I hate to interrupt you ladies,” Jason cut in. “But I can’t find the Saratoga on scanners.”
Jason’s revelation dropped an icy pit into Curtis
’ stomach. Looking about he found only the Cortés and a lonely, empty expanse of space greeting him from outside the canopy. In the distance, the faint light of G 51-15 cast a mournful glow, as if the small star felt compassion for Curtis and his wounded ship.
“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” he heard Jeff call over the channel.
“Darn tootin!” Jason fired back. “Problem is the Saratoga ain’t.”
“Well can you raise Victoria?”
“Do you want to wait two hours for a reply?”
“Well, you boys better figure something out,” Alison chimed in with an urgency to her voice, “cause we’ve got company.”
No sooner than the words were out of her mouth did Curtis’ threat board light up. It was a smaller Drac ship, possibly their version of a corvette. But experience told him it was likely filled with an army of toads ready to descend on them in bloodlust.
“Gunsmoke, please tell me the SLD is warmed up,” James called out.
Hot on his heels Jeff was saying, “We’re not leaving without Spanky, get ready to launch and intercept. Spanks, think you can make it to an airlock?”
“You’ve got five minutes to do it Jungle Man,” Alison added.
Curtis’ eyes flew across the HUD. There was a good ninety meters separating him and the Cortés. With the Razor crippled as it was the transition would be difficult. “I think so,” he said goosing the throttle. The ship twisted erratically forcing him to fight the controls to compensate. “It’s gonna be close.”
“I’ve got faith in you Spanks,” Jeff encouraged. “Take your time. Just don’t take too much time.”
“We’ve got toads,” Alison called. “Reading, twenty…make that thirty. They’ll be in weapons range in three minutes.”
“Mako, you’re a real piece of work you know that?” Curtis groaned while trying to line up his craft. “It was five minutes less than a minute ago!”
“I’m only telling you what this bucket’s telling me,” she sassed at him.
In the Blink of an Eye Page 30
