by James Palmer
“Harmon to Pegasus,” the captain called, hoping her ship could hear the signal. “We’re in. Say again. We are in.” She tapped the key for continuous playback of the message, hoping that Lt. Andersen would pick it up aboard the Pegasus. With all of the interference they had been experiencing, it was more likely that the message would not get through. However, she could ill afford not to try.
After releasing the safety straps holding her in the pilot’s chair, Harmon headed for the rear shuttle compartment. There she found her very own duffle and gear. Several pieces of weaponry were available for her to choose from. Her two junior officers had come prepared for anything.
Good thinking. I’ll have to commend them both later, she decided as she rifled through her options. Stuffing two hand held blaster pistols in her jacket pockets, she hoisted the pulse rifle. It had a nice weight. She looked around the compartment for a pair of pants to put on over the workout gear she has been wearing since earlier that afternoon. No such luck.
“Oh well,” she muttered. “It’s not the clothes that make the officer. I hope.”
Stepping out into the dusty room, rifle at the ready, Captain Harmon took the point position as they headed away from the shuttle. Her officers followed a step behind.
“Report,” she said, her voice tiny inside the oxygen mask. If she was nervous, her voice did not betray it.
“Nothing, ma’am,” the young man next to her answered. Officer Hanover swept his own pulse rifle around the room, anxious, but cautious.
“Be calm,” she told him. This advice was as much for her own benefit as for the two volunteers standing beside her, ready to follow her into battle. Hopefully, it would not come to that.
“Spread out,” the captain said, motioning with her left hand for each to circle out in a wide arc away from the shuttle. “No unnecessary risks. Understand?”
There was a collective, yet quiet, “Yes, ma’am” from both of them.
“Good. And be careful.”
27
Space Lab Science Station
“What the Hell was that?”
The overly loud voice belonged to Lt. Sheron Vandrell. She was not happy. Since the attack on the station, she had been trapped inside the command deck of the Space Lab space station. She was not alone, however. There were two others with her: security officer Erich Waylon and the chief administrator of the Space Lab facility, Dr. Cynthia Morgan.
The two military personnel were seemingly uninjured, although Vandrell grudgingly admitted to a recurring pain in her side. There was no visible damage and no blood, so she assumed it to be nothing more than a bruised rib. Putting aside thoughts of her minor injury, she focused on the station’s chief administrator. Doctor Morgan had not fared as well as Vandrell and Waylon during the initial attack. She had been severely injured, had even lost consciousness twice. Since waking a few minutes before she felt a little better, or so she claimed. Vendrell had her suspicions that Dr. Morgan was putting on a brave front.
It was a common fact that doctors made very poor patients. The lieutenant could easily see that the woman was in great pain. In her humble opinion, Lt. Vandrell doubted the doctor would survive the day unless medical help arrived.
And soon.
There has been zero contact with anyone since the initial attack hit the station.
Without warning they were taken completely by surprise. Even if there had been warning, the outcome would have been much the same. Space Lab was a research station. What minor defensive capabilities it had were insufficient to ward of any kind of coordinated attack.
Something would have to be done to prevent another event like this from occurring again. Lt. Vandrell made a mental note to push the matter with her superiors once this mess was behind them.
Information was sketchy at best, with the computer terminals down. She knew for certain that some of the life pods had managed to break free from the station and fall away. The moon’s gravity would pull them down and Alpha Colony could dispatch rescue details to help the pods land safely. “Thank God,” she sighed. At least some of the personnel from the floating facility would make it.
She almost envied them.
Just when she thought that the worst was behind her all hell broke loose for the second time in the same day.
Without warning a missile impacted the outer hull.
Quickly followed by two laser blasts slamming into the side of the station with enough force to throw the three of them around the ruins of what had once been the heart of Space Lab, or at least the brain. The deck dropped beneath them, tilting everything to its side as auto-rotational gravity plating failed. They were not floating, but the stabilizers that made the stations floor always appear below you were off-line.
Lt. Vandrell tried her best to hold Dr. Morgan still as the deck lurched underneath them. The terrible jostling only succeeded in tearing open the doctor’s wounds again. The dust that had finally settled on the floors and the fallen debris was once more airborne. Once again the air was hard to breathe, their vision blurred, eyes stinging.
“You okay, Doctor?”
“I’ll--uuunnhgh--live,” she managed. “What was that?”
“Search me, Doc. Felt like we were hit by something. Lots of something’s actually.” Vandrell helped the station’s chief administrator to a vacant chair. Cynthia grabbed hold and pulls herself into the chair. The computer console groaned in angry protest as she used it to hoist herself upright.
“Waylon?”
“I’m here, L. T.” he called back. “A bit banged up, but none the worse for wear.”
“See if that jolt loosened the doors.”
“On it!”
“From the UPA ship?” Morgan asked.
“What?”
“The something’s that hit us. Did they come from the Pegasus?”
Lt. Vandrell shrugged. “Don’t know,” she said when she realized Dr. Morgan could not see her. “I doubt it though. At last report, Pegasus was too far away. Plus she is damaged.”
“Do we know how bad?”
“I guess they could have repaired the ship, but why fire on the station?”
“I have a feeling we’ll find out sooner or later.”
“I’m afraid you may be right, Doc.”
“Yeah. Me too,” Morgan said, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “I’d much rather we got the hell out of here though, if it’s all the same to you.”
“You got a plan, Doc?”
“Not really,” Dr. Morgan said weakly. “You?”
“Working on it.”
“Work faster.”
“Captain!”
At a brisk run Captain Virginia Harmon joined her crewman. Staring at an access door at the far end of the room, he took readings with a sensor pad in his right hand. In his left he carried a standard issue blaster pistol.
“What have you got?” the captain asked.
“Movement,” he said, pointing toward the door with the sensor pad. “Inside.” Motioning toward the door’s control panel, his meaning quite clear. There was someone on the other side of that door. That someone, whoever it was, might just have some answers for them. At the moment Captain Harmon desperately needed a few answers for her growing list of questions. In the thick of things, she was no longer hesitant or worried as she had been about taking command of the Pegasus. Leading a mission was where she was most at home.
Officer Walsh took position against the wall beside the door, settling in place to cover her comrades as they moved into the room.
The captain held up three fingers. The two officers nodded in understanding as she began a silent countdown.
Three.
She dropped a finger. The officers were ready to move.
Two.
Another finger curled under.
One.
Jerking her finger forward launched Hanover into action. In one fluid motion, he kicked the door open. In a perfect display of military training the three officers entered the room, the captain
on point, with Officer Walsh taking up the rear. Officer Hanover remained to the captain’s left. They were far enough apart as not to offer whoever was inside a tempting target, just in case the person or persons waiting for them had hostile intentions.
Clicking on the light at the end of her rifle, she played the beam across the room, watching as the shaft of light glowed against the free-floating dust in the station’s artificial atmosphere. Something caught her attention off to the left. She spun, the light dancing in that direction.
Officer Hanover trailed the captain’s beam of light with one of his own until they both locked onto a singular target. A man. Or at least it looks like a man. With the dust in the air it was to tell as he scurried out of the spotlight, coming to rest behind a barrel in the corner.
Captain Harmon cautiously moved in his general direction until she noticed he was wearing what appeared to be a UPA uniform. Why would he be hiding from the rescue party? She wondered. They were on the same side after all.
Weren’t they?
“Hello. I’m Cap---”
Her voice trailed off as another man came out of nowhere, slamming into her from the right side of the room. The first man had been a diversion and she had taken the bait like an amateur. She would chide herself on being caught unawares later. First, she had to deal with her would be attacker.
Her opponent was tough. He managed to wrestle the captain to the dusty floor. With a kick to the wrist, her rifle was knocked away. As it hits the floor, light played across her attacker’s face. That was all the target Captain Harmon needed. With substantial force, she thrust her fist into the man’s face, knocking him away.
Free of her attacker’s grasp, she lunged for her rifle.
She was not fast enough.
The man grabbed her by the ankle, once again pulling her to the floor. He drew back his fist, preparing to unleash a lethal blow.
“Wait!”
The man who had been pretending to hide flipped on the light switch, filling the room with a dusty luminescence. He was indeed wearing a UPA uniform as the captain had surmised. He had recovered Harmon’s lost rifle and was pointing in squarely at her two companions. The next question was a simple one.
“What happens next?” she asked.
“That depends on who you are,” the man who attacked her said.
“I’m the captain of the Pegasus. Virginia Harmon.” She motioned toward her rescue team. “That’s Walsh and Hanover. We’re here to… rescue you.”
Her attacker laughed at that as he offered his hand, helping Harmon to her feet.
“How we doing so far?” she said with a smile.
“Definitely an A for effort, Captain,” he said. One flash of his killer smile and Harmon’s sanity melted away.
“And you are?”
“Dr. James Silver,” he introduced himself. “Pleased to meet you. This is Bailey, our security guru.” He nodded in the general direction of his cohort, never taking his eyes off Captain Harmon.
She regarded the security officer. “Ensign. I would be grateful if you would lower that weapon. We are all on the same side here, after all, aren’t we?”
“Yes, sir, uh, ma’am.”
“Are there any other survivors aboard? We noticed several escape pods jettison shortly before our arrival. Did everyone else get safely off the station?”
“We are not certain how many people are still aboard.” Ensign Bailey quickly briefed Captain Harmon on the situation. “There are a few medical and security personnel that voluntarily stayed aboard with the two of us to help seek out survivors. They’re searching the personnel living quarters. Then they will report back to the docking bay on deck 12.”
He stopped to catch his breath, exhaling dust from his mouth before continuing. “We were trying to get to Operations when we were attacked.”
“By the A.L.’s?”
“Yes, ma’am. Lots of them.”
“Damn,” Harmon said, shaking her head. “I had hoped I was wrong.”
“You saw them?”
“When we came in. Now they’re outside. Could I be lucky enough to assume that was all of them?”
“Afraid not, Captain,” Dr. Silver said. “There are more aboard. A lot more.”
Harmon blew out a breath. “I hate it when I’m right.”
“What’s next, Captain?” Walsh asked. “Do we head back to the Pegasus now?”
“I’m afraid not.” She eyed the two survivors before focusing on Bailey. “Are you certain there are survivors in the Operation’s Center, Ensign?”
“Certain?” Bailey looked to Silver, who simply shrugged. No help there. “No, sir. I am not one hundred percent certain if the Operation’s staff is still alive, but...”
With a gesture, she cut him off before he could finish. She turned to her two officers. “Seal off the ship and pull a schematic of the station. I want to know where everything, and I do mean everything, is. Move out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” both replied in a single voice. They filed back through the door, intent on fulfilling their orders.
The captain turned her attention back to Bailey. “What was your original plan, Ensign?”
“Plan?” His voice barely constrained his humor at the question.
Captain Harmon looked annoyingly past the younger man. “Yes. A plan. I assume you had some idea of what you were going to do before you reached the Operation’s Center.” She watched him squirm inside his dirty uniform. “Please tell me you had a plan?”
“Well… I… uh, that is…”
“Well?”
The ensign straightened. “All I know, ma’am, is that I left some good people on duty in the Operations Center. I know Lt. Vandrell. She won’t give up without a fight. I can’t just leave her and the others up there if I can help it. She and the chief Administrator were up there when I left. Between the two of them they might know a way to contain our uninvited guests.”
Harmon thought it over.
“We owe those people that much, Captain.”
“I suppose you do. What would you suggest we do, Ensign? It’s your station after all.”
Before the young officer could begin, Dr. Silver stepped forward. Her gaze fixed on the Ensign the captain did not seem to notice his movement.
“All I know is that we should make every effort to get to Ops. But I differ to your prerogative, Captain. As senior officer, it’s your call.”
“Okay,” Captain Harmon said. “We need to find the easiest route to Operations. Any ideas?”
“Captain?”
“Yes, Doctor,” she said, turning to regard him as if she had only just noticed his presence. “What’s on your mind?”
Pointing upward, he directed Harmon’s attention to the hatch at the top of the ladder. “That hatch will lead us there, but it’s jammed. I couldn’t get it open. It appears to have malfunctioned. Probably damaged in the crash.”
The captain gave him a stern, questioning look.
“The first one,” Dr. Silver added sarcastically. “The first crash. Not the second one.”
“Good answer, Doctor.”
“I’m a quick study,” he said, pointing again. “Now, about that hatch?”
“Not a problem.” She aimed her rifle at the hatch, a laser sight promptly marking the target. “Fire in the hole!” she yelled.
Dr. Silver and Ensign Bailey took cover as the Pegasus’ captain squeezed the trigger.
A bolt of pure energy lanced toward its intended target.
Impact.
The room shook with the sound of the rifle’s powerful strike. Dr. Silver tried peering through the thick dust to see if she hit her mark. Back on his feet, he made his way forward, looking up at the hatch.
“I think you…” he started, only to be cut off when the thick hatchway crashed heavily to the floor with a loud crash right in front of him. “uh… missed.”
Harmon fired off a lopsided grin in the doctor’s direction. “You were saying?”
“Nothing. N
othing at all.”
“After you, Doctor Silver,” Harmon said, motioning toward the open access ladder.
“Thanks,” he said as he grabbed the first rung. “I think.” Silver found himself staring at her. Which was nothing new for the famed Silverfox. He did have something of a reputation as a ladies man, after all, and it was a reputation that was well deserved, in his not so humble opinion. Despite the dire situation surrounding them, he could not help but wondering what a passionate night with the good Captain might be like.
Harmon pulled a blaster pistol from her jacket pocket, which brought Silver back to reality. He moved away from her, not knowing what she plans for the blaster.
“Here,” she said, her voice stopping him cold until he realized that she was offering her spare gun to him.
“I’d rather not,” he replied.
“Let me guess,” Harmon smirked. “You don’t believe in war and it goes against all your principals to use a fire arm. Something like that?”
“No,” he shook his head, flashed her another meltdown inducing smile. “Nothing like that.”
“Then what?” she asked, very curious about this man. A prospect which scared her a little more than she wanted to admit. She enjoyed their flirtatious banter, as ill-timed as it might have been. “Afraid of killing?” she prodded. “Afraid of guns?”
“Afraid of getting shot.”
Her expression was one of amusement. “Take the blaster, Doctor. I have a feeling you’ll need it before we get through here.”
“Fine,” he said, resignedly.
“Just do me one favor.”
“And that would be?”
“Don’t shoot yourself,” she said. “Or me, for that matter.”
“Ha. Ha.” he deadpanned, snatching the weapon from her hand and tucking it into his waistband.
After a few quick breaths of dust filled air, he steadily began the climb upward one more time. “I better get a raise for this,” he said as he disappeared into the hatch.
Captain Harmon looked up, following his progress. “Let’s get a move on, Doc,” she called after him. “I’d like to be back home before my communications officer takes over my ship.”
