Requiem
"Tell me what
happened."
"That's a long
story, I'm not even sure I know where to begin."
"Begin at the
beginning - as the Queen said to Alice."
"In this case
that's not as easy as it sounds."
Distance. It changes things. The bright life giving sun changes to a small
dot, barely bigger than the countless other stars that stud the heavens. The Earth is lost entirely to view. Only the most sophisticated sensors are able
to pick up the occasional burst of electromagnetic waves that prove it still
exists. And yet by any reasonable
measure the distance is still tiny, not even out of the solar system. Barely past the erratic orbit of Pluto where
the darkness hides dangerous men from the victims they would harm. Out to the belt of unnamed planetoids that
float almost undisturbed by the spread of mankind. Yet even these are but a hair's breadth from
Earth. A few short light hours that make communication a slow painful work of
patience. The next star lies light years
away: far beyond the short grasp of humanity.
But even when confined to a single solar system this short step from the
nearest planet is enough to make the few
wanderers who travel there lonelier than any humans in history. Separated from
kith and kin by a number of miles so huge the figures cease to have any
meaning.
Even here someone must
watch the travellers. Even here the rule
of law must be enforced. People protected, or punished. That duty falls to a few patrol ships,
insignificant specks on a planetary
scale dwarfed even by the bulk transports which move metals from the asteroid
mines to the insatiable factories of Earth.
Yet, at nearly a quarter of a mile in length, in any other age they
would have been among the largest vessels in existence. Each ship a nearly
perfect cylinder, sixty metres in diameter, the smooth lines broken up only by
the odd sensor array, docking port and manoeuvring jet. Powerful pulse engines
with their associated fuel tanks made up over a third the bulk. Life support and the weapon arrays taking up
much of the remaining space. Despite the
size of the craft the thirteen crew that travelled in the SPV Estoque lived in relatively cramped quarters in the centre
of the ship. The machinery forming a
protective cocoon against the vacuum and radiation of space. A quiet place of safety and law amidst the
chaotic darkness, but that tranquillity had been broken.
"They're evading again, 270, 2g." Kalen sang out as the pirate made another rapid course change.
"Match him." Tara ordered, trying not to groan as the already heavy acceleration increased.
"Incoming."
"Point defences, fire."
A distant dull whirr started abruptly as the individual firings blurred into a single sound, before stopping just as abruptly as the target disintegrated.
"What was that?" Tara demanded.
"Unknown,
could be countermeasures, or they could be pushing their ship hard enough that
bits are falling off it." Kalen managed to sound
amused despite the situation.
"Distance?"
"Steady." Connor was at the helm, flicking his gaze between the main viewscreen and his instruments. They were close enough now to use a visual image from the forward cameras rather than relying on the heat trace of the engine. It was a grainy picture but the human eye was harder to spoof than a heat sensor. The converted supply ship they were pursuing looked unremarkable but had much more powerful engines than the standard model and while there were no obvious weapons it was unlikely to be completely defenseless.
The chase had been on for nearly five hours now, long periods of brutal acceleration punctuated with sudden random course changes as their prey tried to break the pursuit.
"Any communications?"
"No. We're still broadcasting a request for them to power down and be boarded." Yip still sounded excited, her first proper interception.
"Missile lock! They're firing at us." Kalen reported, all trace of amusement gone.
The viewscreen showed a spark racing away from the target.
"Countermeasures and close-in defenses on automatic." Jackie stated, the weapons operator as calm and methodical as if on a training exercise. "Single missile, radar guided, impact in 7."
There was a flare on the viewscreen.
"Missile destroyed."
"Enough. Jackie take out their engines." Tara snapped.
"Connor give me micro thrusters." Jackie demanded. "Railgun live, firing standard spread."
The ships acceleration seemed to flutter slightly, as the railgun fired. Shells sped away at a good fraction of light speed and Newton's inevitable laws acted on the ship in turn. The enemy ship turned and then there was an explosion at its rear. Flames spurted out dying quickly as they exhausted the expelled oxygen. The entire ship seemed to bulge as it tore itself apart.
"All hands brace for impact!" Tara yelled even as Connor tried to turn the ship away, but even under emergency thrust a ship as large as the Estoque took seconds to turn. A large section of the pirate's rear bulkhead tumbled towards them and impacted across the front of the ship. The viewscreen went dark as a crash reverberated through the ship. Muffled thumps followed as smaller pieces of debris collided
Tara sat stunned for a moment, 2 weeks of running dark, no communications and minimal use of engines to drift across the pirate's path, hours of high G chase as the pirate had belatedly spotted them and tried to run. And the whole thing over in less than a minute.
"OK Connor, kill thrust. Fumi - where's my visuals?" There was a blip then an infra red representation of the expanding cloud of metal where a ship had once been.
"Sorry Captain, they turned into the shot." Jackie shrugged.
"Understood." Tara brushed off the apology. Ship combat took places at such range that hitting a moving target was hard enough, placing shots precisely enough to disable rather than kill were more art and luck than science.
"Kurt you seeing all this?" Tara asked, almost rhetorically, as if anyone on the ship was looking at anything else. Her words relayed automatically to the EVA specialist at the other end of the ship.
"Yes."
"Standard rescue protocol, liaise with Connor on approach then check for survivors. Terl, Jenna - security detail, watch his back."
"Captain." There had been no time for anyone to reach an escape capsule and both of them knew there was no chance of anyone on the ship surviving that explosion. But the regulations said an attempt had to be made.
Tara paused to get her thoughts in order then barked out a stream of commands.
"Broadcast all hands: Uri, Jackie get me ship status and damage reports. Yip, Chris, Tim, Fumi you've got 30 minutes to grab something to eat then see Uri for assignments. Danni, creature comforts. Connor, you have the bridge, Kalen keep an eye out for any sort of distress beacon. End broadcast."
Tara stood carefully, magnetic soles in her ship shoes keeping her on the floor now there was no acceleration to do the job of gravity.
"What are you going to be doing Captain?" Connor asked as he moved to take her place in the command chair.
"I get the fun job. I have to write the after action report."
The details blinked up on the display but before the junior officer could react a superior reached over, transferring the data to his slate and deleted first the record, then the logs that gave any indication of it ever existing.
"Sir?"
"Need to know. You don't."
As he walked away he muttered to himself.
"Nobody does."
Tara slipped and
almost fell as she ran out of the gym and bounded down the corridor to the
command centre. Overshooting slightly
she twisted to avoid a full on collision with the door frame but could not
avoid clipping her shoulder on the hatch.
Her frown was more of irritation than pain, gravity was not what she was
expecting, which meant something serious.
Given the lack of emergency sirens it was not anything mechanical, but
unplanned course changes were not undertaken lightly. She took in the bridge at a glance - no
sirens, no alerts on the main display which was simply showing a background of
stars. Most of the stations were empty as
usual. Given the level of automation on
a patrol ship it could fly for weeks without a human on the bridge, but regulations said at least two crew at all
times.
Connor was sat in the
captain's chair - uniform as immaculate as ever - sitting ramrod straight. A quick glance in her direction, brown eyes
glinting before he turned back to the displays in front of him. Something of a contrast to her sweat stained
t-shirt and shorts. His solid frame filled both his uniform, and the
chair. Dark skin, darker hair, or it
would have been if he had ever let it grow past a regulation 2mm. Though this late in the shift there were the
first signs of 5 o'clock shadow on his jaw.
The chair was almost a throne set on a pedestal giving a height boost to
emphasise the authority of the position.
A standard console was built into the left side that could be
repositioned on a telescopic arm. A
physical, and on first glance archaic, interface system was built into the
right.
"Captain on
bridge - ceding command. Timestamp." An acknowledging beep from the ship
as it noted the command rotation and appended time and date to the ship's
log. The console on the command chair
dimmed and it's background switched from a deep blue to a lighter shade as
command authority moved. Tara felt the
familiar tingle on her wrist slate as the ship recognised her.
The other occupant of
the bridge was at one of the 6 workstations that made a semi-circle around the
command chair. Five were one piece desk
and chair combinations with a console that swung over the occupant at whatever
angle they found comfortable. Though
they rotated, everyone always ended up facing the Captain's chair and it
appeared to be the centre of some strange technological shrine. The sixth was the specialist communications
station. Larger than the others with
several specialized interfaces in addition to the standard console and with an
integrated receiver that could be isolated from the rest of the ship's systems
when necessary. From the pulsing
warning light it was giving off this was one of those times.
"Captain! Eyes
only communication, from central." Yip Hui Fan
efficient as ever was sliding out of her seat so Tara could settle at the
terminal. Albeit rather uncomfortably. Hui was less than five feet tall and had adjusted the comms desk to suit her. Tara squirmed to fit her legs under
the bulk of the receiver even as sensors
verified her iris pattern and started the message scrolling down the
screen. Green text spelling out detailed
instructions. For a moment Tara fought
the instinct to swear before regaining her equilibrium.
"Broadcast to all
hands: Brace, brace, brace, course change in 90 seconds - full burn. End broadcast." the echoes of the
ship-wide communication bouncing back into the bridge through the open hatch as
her words were electronically repeated.
There was moment of
frantic activity Hui Fan running to one of the
acceleration couches that lined the wall and buckling in as Tara played out
more cord on the harness and snapped shut her own restraints.
"Connor set
course, 234,291,45 by 12. 1.2g"
"Confirm 234...
291... 45..." Connor punched in each value, typing it in on old fashioned
mechanical keys, failsafe guards checking the numerals matched the spoken
commands. A hard link existed between the
chair and the ship's core and the mechanical nature of the keyboard made it
impossible to usurp command authority without physical control of the
bridge. It was a precaution that was
very rarely necessary, but ensured that any electronic attack would have
limited effect. Gaining full control would require nothing short of a full
boarding action, few of which had ever been attempted, fewer still had ever
been successful.
"Confirmed."
"Engaging in 9 at
1.2g"
"Confirm and
engage in... 3,2,1 Mark."
"Aye captain."
As the ship's systems
powered up there was a mechanical clatter as the moving parts of each command
terminal locked tight in position. A
second's pause then a shudder as the whole ship seemed to kick sideways, precision
thrusters realigning the main axis before a moment of swooping change. Gravity dropping to nothing then screaming
back. A low hum rang through every
metallic item the pitch dropping becoming almost physical until it passed the
human hearing range, leaving a moment of discomfort before being felt as a deep
regular thumping as the pulse engine reached full output.
"Course engaged. All systems 5 by 5. Transition smooth and by the book." The
vocalisation was habit and tradition more than a necessity. Tara could see on her wrist slate that
everything was fine, but some things had passed from ship-farer to ship-farer
and just seemed right. Now she all she
needed to do was to get through the first few painful minutes adjusting to the
overly high acceleration.
To a human body there
was no obvious difference between gravity and acceleration. The more rapid the
acceleration the stronger the apparent gravity. Usually ships were limited to
about 0.8G, a little below Earth's own gravity.
Enough to prevent muscle wasting, allow normal bodily functions while
providing a good trade off between fuel efficiency and transit time. 1G was for
serious situations where time was important. 1.2G was the maximum that crew
could sustain for prolonged periods and still be in a fit state to cope with whatever
needed doing at the end of the journey, at least in theory. In practice "fit state" became an
elastic concept.
"What's the
emergency?" Connor managed to sound nonchalant with an effort. His posture was still ramrod straight, even
under the increased gravity, but a slight clenching of the jaw showed there was
a little more effort being employed.
"If there were
any details, which I'm not allowed to
tell you there weren't, then I wouldn't be able to tell you." Tara gave a
half smile. She had worked with Connor long enough that they occasionally
side-stepped some of the more inefficient regulations regarding chain of command and need to know. For obvious reasons no one would admit to it
but she was fairly sure it was a widespread practice across the small and
tightly knit patrol crews.
"Shipwide: All crew
to the bridge." Tara gave the order and then slipped out of the restraint
harness. Carefully placing her feet and
using the console for support. After
months of patrol, mostly at 0.8G the increased gravity was going to make
everyone clumsy for a while.
"I'll need the
chair."
Connor nodded and swung himself to his feet.
Moving quickly to one of the other stations.
A slight beading of sweat giving lie to the easy gait he had adopted.
Danni was next to
arrive, yawning and with her jumpsuit creased.
She stumbled to the nearest acceleration couch and rolled into it. Jenna
following and folding into a lotus position on the floor next to her. Kalen arrived still
fiddling with the zip on his jumpsuit, glanced at Yip and without a word
slipped into the communications station; being primary communications officer
had its privileges.
Tara settled
gratefully into the command chair and turned it round to watch the door. Terl was next,
unlike everyone else he seemed utterly unconcerned about the increased gravity
and simply stood at attention by the side of the door.
"This will be
fun. Now we get to find out who's been
skimping on their G-training." his quiet light voice always seemed
incongruous with such a battered and worn face, not to mention a body that was
almost as wide as it was tall. A low
groan came from Danni, but everyone else was smart enough to keep their
feelings to themselves. Day to day there
was little call for a combat specialist so Terl also
had responsibility for setting the exercise programs for the crew. And, less
popularly, for ensuring that they were followed. As he said, anyone who objected was welcome
to take a swing. Connor had taken him up
on that. Afterwards he had said the
worst bit was not the sparring in the ring, but the careful explanations of
where his combat techniques were lacking every time Terl
sent him face first to the floor. Not to
mention the extra work assigned to ensure that next time he would be, as Terl put it "more of a challenge." That had been three months ago and several
rematches since had slightly longer in duration but not noticeably different in
outcome. Everyone else had sensibly
decided to learn from Connor's example and had just done what Terl asked.
The light from the hatch was briefly blocked out as Uri
ducked under the doorframe. Well over
two metres tall Uri was approaching the maximum allowable height and mass for
the acceleration couches. He could just
barely squeeze into a standard terminal when everything was pushed out to the
limit. Being primary engineer, he had
long since altered all the couches in engineering to fit him better. His almost inseparable shadow Tim walked in
behind him but was abruptly grabbed around the neck and yanked back through the
door, feet clipping the raised lip of the hatch so that he landed with a crunch
on the deck.
"This crap
yours?" Kurt snarled, throwing a large metal box onto the prone form and
drawing his leg back for a kick that never connected. Terl had already
slipped through the door and in a blur blocked the kick with an outstretched
foot, simultaneously grabbing an arm and spinning Kurt around. By the time most of the crew had reacted to
his presence Kurt was already pressed face first into the wall with his arm
twisted awkwardly out behind him.
"Stand down! You
too Uri!" Tara rarely needed to raise her voice, but this had been brewing
for a while. Uri stopped in his tracks,
growled something unintelligible in Russian and stomped over to a couch, the
paleness of his complexion giving away how much the change of gravity had
impacted him. His extra height meant
blood had further to travel and his heart had to work harder, he was going to
spend the next couple of days feeling very light headed every time he stood up.
"Are we good
Kurt." Terl asked, not even out of breath.
"No, that
idiot... ow." A groan of pain as Terl slightly shifted his grip.
"Sorry I'm a bit
clumsy with the gravity shift, did you say you were good."
"Yes...
Good."
Terl relaxed and stepped back still alert for
trouble and reached down to pull Tim to his feet, the slight engineer looking
even more dishevelled than usual. Karl
turned to face the bridge and revealed an already swelling black eye.
"Was that really
necessary Terl." muttered Danni.
"The black eye
wasn't him. Tim didn't secure his
tools." Karl spat.
Tara winced. Karl was an EVA specialist, everything had to
be pristine, perfect, done by the book or not at all. Vacuum work in space this far out meant
errors were usually fatal. Tim tended to
worry more about patching up the current problem than tidying up after the
previous one. He was good at what he did
and could diagnose and fix problems as fast as engineers with years more
experience, but this was his first tour.
Uri had already given him several informal warnings, Connor had had to deliver a formal one. Despite this Tim still had not picked up the
meticulous work habits needed for safe work on a ship. At least a couple of the crew were already
pegging him as a washout. A judgement
Karl had reached only a few days into the tour.
Tim had unsurprisingly reacted badly
and niggling tensions had built up as the weeks went on.
As Karl's day job was
doing all external ship repairs under close direction of the two engineers,
they spent far too much time in each other's company given how little they
liked each other. Professionalism only
got you so far. Unsecured kit could and
had killed under high G course changes and manoeuvres. Not to mention the
amount of delicate equipment that could easily suffer irreparable damage.
Karl's anger was understandable but his actions were out of line and since it
had been done in full sight of her rather than in a quiet corner there was no
way she could turn a blind eye. Out of the
corner of her vision she saw Connor give an almost imperceptible shrug. They both knew it was her problem.
"Karl sit down,
we'll deal with this later." Procrastination, but it brought some time to
think.
A movement to her side
as Fumi slipped into one of the vacant stations. No sign that he had even noticed the upset,
and annoyingly she had not even seen him enter the bridge. Ship's gossip said he knew a special series
of vents and ducts that allowed him to sneak into,
and out of, any room in the ship. All
rubbish, the actual air and electrical conduits were far too small for anything
bigger than an inspection drone, but Fumi never
denied any of the rumours. The odd
twinkle in his eye suggesting if anything he played up to them.
The last two members of
the crew ambled together onto the bridge.
Chris still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Fraternisation was discouraged so everyone
pretended not to notice he and Jackie always ended up on the same shift pattern
and Chris' bunk was never slept in. The
six month tours pretty much guaranteed some relationships would happen, but
Chris and Jackie were an unusually stable pairing. Rumour had it that the only reason they had
not announced their engagement was to avoid being assigned the station duty
that tended to be given to married officers.
They were an interesting study in contrast, Chris looking like a normal
sized person who had been stretched on a rack.
He often joked that Fumi dealt with
electronics in confined spaces and he stuck to changing light fittings and
fetching anything that was on high shelves.
Jackie was average height and anyone with a streak of honesty and a
death wish might call her plump. Her
skin and eyes were so dark that she could have been cut out from space
itself. A sombre face that usually
carried an expression as cold as the void.
The times off-duty when she smiled she seemed a different person to the
dour weapons officer that was her professional demeanour. Still given her responsibility to maintain
and occasionally deploy weapons that could destroy stations and hundreds of
lives in an instant perhaps that dourness was inescapable.
"So Captain, can
you tell us what is going on?" Kalen finally
asked what everyone was thinking.
Tara sighed and
shrugged. The myth of the all knowing captain rarely lasted on these sort of
long duration tours. The lack of space
and long hours generally ensured that the rest of the crew got to know the
person behind the rank.
"Vectors given
and full burn ordered. No target
details. Just a request for a full
inventory direct to central: fuel, supplies, medical and armoury."
"Rescue
mission?"
"We've been out a
bit long to be able to offer much." Danni was already tapping her slate
beginning to compile the list ready for transmission. "Any word on what they might be looking
for."
"Nope. And if we
ask we'll get a 22 hour delay before they tell us to stop buggering around and
just send what they asked for."
"So we'll send
what they ask for." chorused several of the crew as part of the
traditional mantra warding off the effects of Central's incompetence.
"Realistically we
are likely to be the closest rather than the best able to help." Yip
added. "Not many other ships in this sector."
"So we just go
blindly? How can we sync orbits with anything if we don't get the relative
velocities sorted." Chris might not have been a navigator, but all of them
had enough cross training to know the difficulties of rendezvousing with a
moving target. Particularly one that did not want the rendezvous. The recent interception of the pirate had
required weeks of meticulous planning to get the Estoque
close enough to start a pursuit.
"For now we go blindly. Kalen, Yip you've
got the obs-suit give me a projection of likely
targets on our current flight-path. Keep
an eye on any other ships making radical course changes about the same time we
made ours. Correlate their new
flight-paths and try and get at least an approximate area of interest.
Engineering I'll need status update on fuel, both range and time estimates and
heads up on any mechanical issues. Jackie,
Fumi work with Danni, I want that full inventory sent
ASAP, if we don't have what they need..."
"Then we don't
have to put up with 1.2G" Danni finished with a grin.
"We might be
re-tasked yes." Tara agreed. She
liked the tall technician responsible for the biological components of the
ship's systems. While Danni's medical
skills were rarely tested and the hydroponics labs, her other official
responsibility, were almost entirely automated Danni's unofficial role as moral
officer was vital. Her bright bubbly
nature hid a degree in psychology and she was a natural choice whenever anyone
needed someone to talk to. She was also
the best cook that Tara had ever met and her curved frame demonstrated she
enjoyed eating her creations as much as she enjoyed making them.
"Since you're up,
Chris full electronic sweep, particularly sensors I want information at range
and I don't want to find out we missed anything due to faulty antenna."
"Again... I
know. I'll draw up and exterior
inspection schedule, it's within specifications but given we may be going into
a situation, rather than just back home for a refit we should..." Chris
trailed off already marking up a check list on his slate. It had been two tours ago but it was unlikely
any crew he served with would let Chris forget a rather uncharacteristic
failure to spot a faulty relay that had led to a suspect almost getting into
firing range undetected. Tara grinned to
show there was no malice intended in the teasing, she much preferred crew
members who had already made a stupid mistake.
The ones who learned from it were always much more reliable. Overconfidence led to skipping checks, taking
shortcuts and then fatal mistakes.
"Terl, Jenna - sorry you're going to be on creature comforts
for now."
"I'll be doing
the cooking." growled Terl.
Jenna cocked her head
then the slight blond smiled and nodded.
Her skills in the canteen were legendary, but sadly mostly for the wrong
reasons. With the delays inherent in
space travel even a basic question and answer session could stretch over weeks
when each reply took 10 hours to travel from ship to station. Interrogators needed to be on the spot when a
suspect was taken into custody before they had time to work out a set of plausible
lies. This did leave a problem of what
to do with a trained interrogator for the long periods where her skills were
not required. In Jenna's case it usually
became a fifty-fifty split between combat training and general dogsbody
work. Ships ran on caffeine as much as
on deuterium.
"Do you want me
to redraw shift patterns?" Connor asked.
Tara started to shake her head, then paused.
"Yeah, work me up
a rough draft for shifts. Keep it flexible, if we turn up anything we want to
be sure there's a couple of spare pairs of hands available. We'll want everybody up and alert on contact
- but of course we don't know when that will be. Give everyone two hours to do initial prep then
start rotating on and off duty, usual coordination between departments. "
Tara turned away almost as soon as she had finished speaking. "You all have your assignments. Kurt,
with me, Connor you have the bridge."
The crew scattered,
heading to their various assignments, Jackie and Danni moving to Fumi's station and comparing notes. Tara stood, switching command authority as
she did so.
"First officer on
bridge - ceding command. Timestamp."
Connor had taken back
the command chair before Tara had reached the door, she stalked through it
without bothering to check if Kurt was following. He would.
Now she had to figure out how to handle this. She walked quickly through the connecting
corridors using the time to come up with a strategy. All too soon she stepped into the ante room
of her cabin and sat gratefully behind her desk. Highly polished wood, only the metal brackets
fastening it to the floor and the catches that prevented the draws opening
under heavy acceleration giving away that this office was different to any
planet bound equivalent. Kurt stood the
other side of the desk already at attention without being asked. Tara glared for a minute, taking some petty
satisfaction as Kurt tried to remain motionless under the increased
gravity. A slight trace of sweat on his
top lip.
"What the hell
was that in aid of?" level, dangerous. Push him as far as possible without
provoking him into another outburst that could get him into real trouble.
"That idiot was
out of line." Kurt began.
"Rank."
"Sorry Captain. That idiot was out of line.
Sir."
Tara refrained from
asking if she looked like a "sir", sir and ma'am were both
acceptable: by the book, and letting Kurt know that it irritated her would not
help.
"Agreed. So why didn't you make a formal
complaint."
"Because the last
one didn't help." Karl paused before adding. "Sir." The delay
long enough to be clear that the disrespect was deliberate not long enough that
any action could be taken: all by the book.
"Not your call to
make. Is it."
"No. Sir.
Permission to speak freely?"
"Denied. Put it
in writing or don't say it. You're angry enough to do something you will
regret."
Karl glared, a moment
of pure hatred, before it dimmed and a grudging acceptance took its place.
"Yes sir."
Tara sighed inwardly
and sat back slightly in her seat. Karl
was entirely correct about Tim, was too valuable and talented to lose and was
all too aware of both facts. She picked
up her slate and made a show of looking up the regulations. Karl could no doubt have quoted them by heart.
"Assault on
another officer. That's two weeks in the brig minimum plus whatever charges
command wants to press when we get back." Which would be after a trial
during which Tim's lackadaisical failure to secure equipment would come out
ensuring his swift exit from service and probably reprimands for both her and
Uri at their negligence in letting the situation get out of control in the
first place. At a minimum. Karl was no doubt counting on her fear of the
fallout to keep him from punishment.
"Chris says we
need a full exterior inspection. Who on this ship is qualified to carry that
out under 1.2G acceleration?" Tara asked not looking up from the slate.
"Only me.
Sir." The smug response as she had expected.
"So when I lock
you up and have to send non-specialist crew out in your place what's likely to
happen." Tara continued mildly.
Karl paused and
swallowed slightly nervously, no longer sure where this was going.
"There's a good
chance of something going wrong sir."
"Such as?"
"Suit puncture,
loosing contact with the ship..." Karl began.
"And we're under
full burn orders so we would be unable to go back and retrieve anyone."
"You can't send
anyone else out there!"
"But I have to.
And I have to put you in the brig. Congratulations, there's a pretty good
chance your temper tantrum just killed one of my crew." Tara stood, she was just under average height
and somewhat on the stocky side, there should be no way she could physically
intimidate the tall specialist but she managed. "Unprofessional conduct
putting the life of a colleague in danger. Check. That's not just disciplinary
action, that's criminal charges. If you
actually get someone killed I'm going to push for full manslaughter."
Karl had turned grey
and damp patches of sweat were appearing on his jumpsuit.
"Oh, you're
finished. Washed out and with a criminal record. I hope you have some alternative career
plan."
Tara stood for a
moment, cold grey eyes locked with her subordinate, waiting for the full
magnitude of the possibilities to sink in.
Kurt was beginning to tremble, his whole future disintegrating in front
of him. Tara gave him a moment more then
turned.
"Or..." she
added, almost as an afterthought.
"Or?" sudden
desperate hope in Kurt's voice, aware he was being played but unable to resist.
"Or, you go find
Tim. Apologise. Then the pair of you are back in front of my desk in an hour
explaining how your 'horseplay' got out of hand and everything was a big
misunderstanding. Then you and Uri work out how to get Tim to the end of his
tour with no more 'incidents'."
Karl sagged with
sudden relief.
"You have one
hour, or I'm sending Terl to escort you to the brig.
Dismissed."
Karl snapped off a
quick salute then almost ran from the office. Tara sighed and then sat back at
her desk, massaging her temples with her fingertips trying to reduce the
headache that was already building. Now
she would have to let Uri know what was going on, and keep a much closer eye on
the situation. Uri was an excellent
engineer and normally a good manager, but was used to working with experienced
crew who had either been with the UNSCP for years or who had worked on ships in
the private sector before transferring.
Tim was his first apprentice fresh out of university, she would have to
find out if Tim was a poor student or whether Uri needed some extra training.
Uri would no doubt take it badly either way.
She sat up and reached
for her slate. Work to do.
The two enforcers
dwarfed their captive, bulky black armour plating all but turning them into
giants. Each held an arm in an
unbreakable grip as the captive's feet hung just above the floor.
"It's all true.
Please you have to listen to me."
The taller of the
enforcers snorted in derision.
"Why won't you
hear me out?"
The question was
ignored and a further attempt by the prisoner to communicate was ended abruptly
by a swift fist to his stomach. As he
gasped for air one enforcer swung him heavily into the wall while the other
reached for a door control. Solid steel
slid aside on hushed hydraulics revealing a store room where empty shelves were
now lined with nothing more than dust.
Too winded to protest or fight back the captive was thrust into the room
and his captors took station either side of the rapidly closing door.
All was calm for a few
moments before a muffle thud came from inside the room, then another.
"Let me out. You
don't understand!"
The prisoner continued
banging on the door of the small room.
The two guards outside simply exchanged a mildly amused grin before
leaning back against the wall. One
mouthing "crazy" as he relaxed.
The first explosion
shocked them out of their complacency.
Without waiting for
confirmation the shorter guard hit the door release. As the door opened the prisoner ran straight
past his captors to the terminal on the wall opposite. The alarm wailed, deep groans so loud that
they were felt rather than heard shaking the corridor.
The taller guard
turned in time to see the wall of flame billowing towards them.
"Alpha 4
failed!" the prisoner screamed and turned to face oblivion.