by James Palmer
There was an old Earth saying, If the horse won’t go to the water, you bring water to the horse. Ergo, if you can’t get the admiral to the infirmary, then you bring the infirmary to the admiral. At the very least a doctor could treat his wounds.
“We’re at full thrust build up now, Captain,” one of the pilots announced. “We’re ready when you are, sir.”
“Go!” The command was sharp and clear.
Commander Hall watched intently as her captain stared at the stars as they turn from small white droplets into blurred streaks of light as the massive vessel reached hyper-speed velocity. Within a matter of seconds, the ship moved through the cosmos at speeds far faster than any other ship in the UPA fleet.
“Plot us along a variant course to our previous one. We’ll take a different path, just in case our friend, the commander, has friends of his own waiting for us out there.”
“Yes, sir,” the chief pilot, Lieutenant Matthew Roberts, called from his station in the pit area below the captain.
“Keep our route a secret and send it to my office under a priority code.”
“Aye, sir,” Lt. Roberts responded, not exactly sure what was going on, but trained not to ask. If the captain wanted him to know, he would tell him. If not, that would be okay too.
Captain Andrews let out a breath, finally relaxing enough to slink into the synthetic leather of his chair. “Commander Hall,” he called. “Seal the bridge. As of this moment, there is to be no unauthorized access to this room, with the exception of the admiral’s doctor.”
Her hands danced across the controls. “Bridge is locked out from the rest of the ship.”
“Good. Also lock down communications.”
“All comm traffic, sir?”
“Yes. Total communications blackout. Only transmissions authorized in person by either Admiral McKeen or myself will be allowed. After you finish with those details, Lt. Commander, please join us in my office.”
Commander Hall nodded acknowledgement, watching as the admiral and her captain headed toward the passageway leading to the captain’s office.
“Mr. Roberts,” the captain called to the chief pilot. “You have the bridge until I, the admiral, or Commander Hall returns. Do not deviate from our course.”
“Understood, sir,” Roberts answered.
Escorting Admiral McKeen off the bridge, Captain Andrews left Andrea Hall to her duties.
“All communications are now being severed.” At her command, all of the comm-stations onboard the Ulysis, including private channels in Nomad City were cut, some while in use. She felt bad for those cut off in mid sentence, but the needs of the crew as a whole took precedence over the inconveniences of the civilian population.
After completing her assigned tasks, Lt. Commander Andrea Hall slid away from her station. “You have the bridge, Mr. Roberts,” she said as she stepped into the hallway leading to the captain’s office. She was, to say the least, nervous. She was reminded of being sent to the principal’s office in school. You were either in trouble or were about to be volunteered for something, usually unpleasant.
The walk from the door to the office was relatively short, no more that a half dozen feet. To Andrea Hall it was the longest journey she had ever undertaken. Swallowing hard, she knocked on the door.
“Enter,” he called from inside.
Nervously, she turned the handle, pushed open the door, and entered.
At a cue from her captain she closed the door behind her.
“Have a seat, Commander,” the captain said, pointing to a chair.
“We need to have a little chat.”
44
Alliance Starship Pegasus
“We’re heading to engineering,” Deputy Freeman reported.
“Stay frosty, D,” Natalie Vortex’s voice sounded in his ear.
“Roger that.”
The corridors of the Starship Pegasus were not luxurious by any standard. Of late, the Bridger Corporation had been designing ships with a more lavish feel to them in an effort to make life aboard a starship appealing. With population control a high priority, the UPA legislature was considering construction of space faring vessels to act as colony ships similar to the successful Nomad Colony on the Ulysis. Soon there would be a whole section of humans who lived entirely in space, their feet never touching solid ground.
Although it only existed on the drawing boards at the moment, representatives of the Alliance had already committed their full support, promising that such measures would solve many of the population and overcrowding problems facing the colonies.
Carpeted corridors were installed on the Pegasus instead of hard steel grating that could be found on most ships its size. That small change was but one of the hundreds of modifications the brains at Bridger had implemented in an effort to make starships more family friendly, which had become the watchword for Bridger Corporation over the past two years.
Deputy Marshal Dexter Freeman gave no thought to Bridger’s plans as he raced down a carpeted corridor toward Engineering. He followed the ship’s ranking officer, Lt. Marc Allen, who was guiding Freeman and his team along the shortest route. Hot on his heels were Deputy Simon Fredricks and Alliance fleet engineer Charles Shepard. They hoped to get the Pegasus’ engines back on line since the ship’s engineer had no luck, they were on hand to assist.
However, if Lt. Allen’s feeling about Harold Thomas was true, then things could get interesting for all parties concerned. Whereas he had earlier thought it a problem having only a skeleton crew aboard, now he was thankful the ship was all but empty.
Dexter motioned for them to stop as they reached the junction leading to engineering. Slowly, He peered around the corner, not expecting trouble, but prepared for it nonetheless. There was nothing. Under the circumstances, he wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good sign.
After a second’s pause to catch their collective breath, they pressed onward.
Finally reaching the edge of the engineering section, they were surprised by how quiet it was.
It shouldn’t have been.
Engineering was noisy under normal conditions. During the crisis, the engineering staff should have been hastily working, making noise, conversation, and the like. But there was nothing happening.
There was no sound at all and the complete and utter silence that chilled Marc Allen to his bones.
“This can’t be good,” Dexter said.
He and Deputy Fredericks pulled their weapons. Fredericks passed a pistol to Lt. Allen, who reluctantly accepted it after the deputy left him no other option. Freeman motioned for them to follow as he moved silently into engineering.
The others complied, inching their way ever slowly behind Mr. Freeman.
Dexter pointed to the closed access hatch off to his right, posing a silent question for Lt. Allen.
Allen nodded his understanding.
The hatch was locked, but the lieutenant had security access, which would allow him to open the lock.
Unless the code had been changed by the saboteur.
Without a sound, Dexter motioned for Lt. Allen to unlock the hatch.
Slowly, the Pegasus’ interim commander reached out and pressed the cool control panel, flinching slightly at the touch. His nerves were on edge. Holding his hand as steady as possible, Allen entered his six-digit access code into the keypad, waiting for the red warning light to change to green. Green to welcome him and slide the door open.
Nothing happened.
Pursing his lips, the lieutenant tried his access code once again. He waited, the seconds ticking by slowly.
As before, nothing happened.
“Door’s access code has been changed,” he said. “My code should open it. Mr. Thomas must have...”
Deputy Freeman cut him off mid sentence with a wave of his hand and motioned for Lt. Allen to step back a safe distance.
Not having to be told twice, he quickly complied and got the hell out of the way.
“Cover me, Fredericks,�
� Dexter said, holstering his weapon. Quickly, but quietly, the deputy marshal pulled three pieces of equipment from two of his uniform jacket pockets. He assembled them easily, as if he had done it a million times.
For all Lt. Allen knew, perhaps he actually had performed the maneuver that many times. He had not had much experience dealing with the marshal’s office or any of its personnel before today so he was unaware of their training regimen. What he was, however, was more impressed than ever by what they were capable of.
Officer Freeman completed the construction of his gadget and placed it alongside the locking mechanism for the access hatch. It stayed firmly in place.
Slowly, Dexter Freeman backed away from his equipment, forcing his companions backward as well. After clearing the corner the deputy marshal toggled a switch on yet another gadget pulled from his jacket pocket.
He pressed the button.
Instantaneously, the access hatch exploded, engulfed in flames, the door mechanism fell to the floor with a clatter even as a small tremor rumbled beneath their feet. The flames were quickly snuffed out as the access hatch disintegrated.
As one, the four men moved stealthily toward what had only moments ago been an obstacle in their path.
Now there was only a gaping hole.
“The captain’s not going to like this,” Lt. Allen mumbled.
Engineer Charles Shepard hid a slight grimace at the remark, but didn’t comment.
Lt. Allen simply shrugged before following Deputy Freeman into the corridor to engineering.
All four men moved single file down the path with speed and fierce determination.
After all, they had a ship to save.
45
Marshal’s Office Fighter Squadron
“Incoming!”
Squadron Commander Allison Grady drove her small ship into a hard right spin that narrowly avoided two missiles that streaked an arm’s reach past her cockpit. She whistled. That was close!
The Scavengers had opened fire on the UPA fleet the moment they had gotten within range. It only took seconds for everything to go to hell and the skirmish became a full-blown space battle.
With blinding efficiency, the military fleet and its small group of thirty-nine snub fighters hit the Scavenger fleet back.
And they hit them hard.
The first dozen or so shots had resulted in nearly a dozen kills. The Alliance ships were wiping out their attackers easily enough. Before long, however, the sheer number of Scavenger vessels took its toll on the smaller group of Alliance snub fighters.
The Scavengers had the luxury of attacking in waves.
This was not good news for Allison Grady and her squad, considering they were outnumbered. She was even less than thrilled by the odds now that they were in the thick of battle.
She lurched to one side as a laser blast sliced through space toward her. Unable to completely evade the bolt of energy, she spun the ship to protect vital areas. The blast deflected harmlessly off the fighter’s shielding, briefly leaving a blue glow before her eyes.
Returning fire, she destroyed the small, antique ship. It erupted in a gigantic ball of fire, quickly snuffed out as the oxygen dispersed.
Grady had no time to enjoy her victory as another ship leapt in, taking the place of the one she had only destroyed seconds before.
“This is ridiculous,” she said to the space around her. “Ridiculous.” Pulling hard to the right, she maneuvered around another series of laser blasts that streaked past her hull. This isn’t turning out to be as easy as I thought.“There are just too many of them,” she cursed.
The deputy marshal rolled her ship out of the line of fire, managing to nail two of her opponents before they can react to her erratic maneuver. Taking a split second to verify the transponder locations of her squadron pilots, she filed through their options. Four Alliance snub fighters were out of the fight, two of those having been destroyed, obliterated by ships that were old before Grady had even been born.
“Commander Grady to all squadrons. We have to keep these guys away from the space station. Stand your ground. Nothing else matters at the moment.” The words rang hollow in her ears as she listened to them, scarcely believing she spoke them.
Switching the snub fighter’s comm frequency to match the one she and Natalie Vortex had prearranged, she called in.
Natalie would undoubtedly be waiting on her signal.
Sure enough, Natalie’s face filled the small screen off to Grady’s right leg. “You rang, Commander?” Natalie asked. That had been the ‘all clear’ signal. The comm line was clean, no third party listening in. At least none that Natalie could detect, but it was still possible, if highly unlikely. Grady allowed that Natalie could be mistaken. Also, possible, but highly improbable.
“How’s tricks, kiddo?” the commander asked. Natalie grimaced, hating to be referred to as a kid. Grady knew this, but persisted on using the hated moniker anyway. Probably because the younger Vortex protested it so fiercely, which made calling her that so much fun.
“We’re getting overrun out here, Nat,” Grady reported. “Anything from the boss?”
“I don’t know, Commander. I’ll check.” Natalie lowered the headset to her neck, turning from the screen to face her father who was still working the weapons console. “Marshal,” Natalie said. “I have Commander Grady on Tac-1. She wants to know if you have any new orders for her.”
“I’ll take it at my station, Natalie. Secure channel please,” he said as he donned his own headset. After getting tied in to the communication network, the marshal motioned for Natalie to connect him to his second in command. A replacement for the deceased weapons officer stepped in to take over for the marshal as he returned to his command chair.
Once seated he plugged in the headset to his monitor.
“You’re on, Grady. The big guy is listening,” Natalie said before disconnecting from her end. This conversation was not for her ears.
“Talk to me, Commander.” The marshal’s voice was quiet, but firm. “Let’s have some good news.”
Grady’s voice crackled through the headset. “I wish I had some to give, boss. We’re being overrun out here. There’s too damned many of them for my fighters to take them all out. Can you spare a ship or two from the fleet to give us a hand?” she asked. “It would help us out a lot down here.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Vortex out.” He unplugged his headset, then turned back to communications. “Natalie, pull two ships out of the convoy and send them to Commander Grady. They need reinforcements in a hurry.”
“Yes, sir.” Natalie passed the order along. “It’s done, sir. I’ve sent the Barker and the Levinson to help with...”
The last words were swallowed as the Bounty’s Pride lurched violently.
Natalie was thrown to the floor by the impact. Several other members of the crew found themselves similarly out of their seats.
“What in the hell was that?” Natalie demanded as she pulled herself back into her chair.
“Status report.” The marshal was on his feet, scanning the bridge for any injuries or damage, major or otherwise.
“We’re being fired on, Marshal,” Chris Walker reported from the pilot’s station at the front of the bridge.
The marshal was hoping for a bit more information. “I’m aware of that much, Mr. Walker,” he said with irritation. “By whom? From where? There isn’t a ship in the area that could have possibly hit us with that much power. Where the hell did that blast come from?”
Walker pointed toward the view screen. “Yes there is,” he said. “It’s the Pegasus, sir.”
“What?”
“She’s firing on us.”
“How the…”
“Confirmed, sir. Pegasus has targeted us,” Natalie verified.
“Don’t they know that we’re here to help? What’s going on over there?” The marshal stepped over to Natalie’s station. “Get me Dexter. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” Natalie said.
&
nbsp; “I want to know what’s going on over there.”
“Weapon’s lock,” Chris Walker shouted. “No time for evasive.”
“Damn.” The marshal stared at the monitor, watching as the Pegasus once again locks her weapons onto the Bounty’s Pride. “All hands! Brace for impact!” he shouted as another deadly energy beam lashed out from the Pegasus at them.
“Hold on!”
The marshal grabbed Natalie, holding her in her seat as a second blast rocked the ship. Power cells fluctuated, then died, instantly plunging the ship into darkness. The sickening sound of rending metal filled the air.
Natalie closes her eyes. Could this be the end? she wondered. Could it?
“Can we navigate?” the marshal inquired from his position at Natalie’s side. He was already on the move to his command station before an answer could be given. “Get those lights back on before...”
“The Pegasus has fired again!” Walker’s voice filled the darkness.
“Oh damn.”
The Marshal’s words were drowned out by the ensuing explosion, which faded almost as quickly as it began, leaving nothing behind.
Nothing but the encroaching darkness.
Chapter 48
45
Marshal’s Office Fighter Squadron
“Incoming!”
Squadron Commander Allison Grady drove her small ship into a hard right spin that narrowly avoided two missiles that streaked an arm’s reach past her cockpit. She whistled. That was close!
The Scavengers had opened fire on the UPA fleet the moment they had gotten within range. It only took seconds for everything to go to hell and the skirmish became a full-blown space battle.
With blinding efficiency, the military fleet and its small group of thirty-nine snub fighters hit the Scavenger fleet back.
And they hit them hard.
The first dozen or so shots had resulted in nearly a dozen kills. The Alliance ships were wiping out their attackers easily enough. Before long, however, the sheer number of Scavenger vessels took its toll on the smaller group of Alliance snub fighters.
