Authors: Thomas DePrima
"I know," she said, then added excitedly, "but it was so much fun!"
"You're just lucky that we don't have any flying insects on board or you'd still be picking them out of your teeth."
Jenetta smiled, and picking at her front teeth with a fingernail, said jokingly, "Now that you mention it…"
Due on the bridge at 1800 hours to relieve the captain, Gloria had to cut the tour short, but Jenetta had learned enough so she could travel throughout the ship on her own. They put their sleds down on the other lane and headed back for the main ship, but this time Gloria took the lead, and Jenetta was forced to keep a grip on her sled's handle. Even so, their return to the lead link-section took just seven minutes.
Before breakfast the next day, Jenetta began jogging on the walkway in the tunnel. She could only run a half-kilometer the first morning, before being forced to return by the limitations of her body, but over the following days she increased the distance as strength returned to her limbs. She would always smile pleasantly and wave when she passed someone traveling the other way on a hover-sled, even though they couldn't raise their hand to respond. She slowly got to know all the faces even if she didn't know the names. The vitamins, nutrients, and medications provided by the doctor greatly assisted her recovery, and by the end of another week she managed to jog the entire thirteen plus kilometers to the ship's stern and back, about a third the distance of a marathon run. Her face had mostly filled out again, and thanks to her punishing exercise regimen, her body was nearing the prime condition it had been in when she leapt into the life pod aboard the Hokyuu. Her new uniforms now fit her like they had been tailored after careful measurement of her form, rather than simply being copied from an old uniform.
After working at the science station on the bridge each day, scanning space around the ship for any sign of other ships, Jenetta would run or exercise in the gym until she could barely lift her arms and legs. Several crewmen could usually be found there, practicing their kick boxing skills. Jenetta became intrigued, and after watching for a few days, asked them to teach her. It was infinitely different from the standard judo training that she had received at the Academy. Her exercise program had redeveloped her quick reflexes, along with strong arms and legs. She proved to be a natural for the contact sport, and she picked it up quickly.
Jenetta always tried to wrap up the day with some reading, having almost eleven years of news to catch up on. Although the ship couldn't transmit messages because of the danger from revealing its position, it could pick up vid & text broadcasts from the news services.
* * *
At the end of her first month aboard the Vordoth, Jenetta was feeling like a regular member of the crew, much more so than she ever had on the Hokyuu. She was able to practice with the kick-boxers as if she'd been at it for a year, and wore each bruise proudly. The level of her skill improved with every practice session. She had also started getting up an hour earlier each morning so that she could surreptitiously take a few high-speed hover sled rides before the first watch reported in. It was the one time of the day when the hover tracks were virtually deserted. Jenetta would laugh and squeal with delight as she flew through the ship at maximum speed.
At dinner one evening, Charley brought up the subject of the escape pod. "I had a chance to examine your pod this morning, Jen. I was curious as to why the retrorocket hadn't fired. I saw that the computer had sent the proper command automatically, followed by a number of manual commands to fire, so I followed the connections up to the rocket and discovered the problem. The line from the fuel tank had been ripped away. It must have happened during the explosion of the ship. There's a two-ton section of steel truss stuck in the heat shield of the main rocket engine. You must have ejected less than ten seconds from the explosion in order to have been close enough for that to happen. Your com antenna had been sheared clean away also. No wonder they never picked up your emergency beacon signal."
"I guess that explains how I got here. I'm just glad the stasis chamber exceeded specs. I can't wait until we reach the Belagresue system so that I can report in and have them notify my family that I'm still alive."
"Only about 83 more days, I estimate," Gloria said.
Jenetta came instantly awake when the Vordoth's red alert horn in her quarters began to yelp the following morning. Like its brethren everywhere, it was designed to rattle your teeth and ‘wake the dead.' Jenetta believed at first that she was experiencing the recurring dream of her final night aboard the Hokyuu, but the persistence of the shrieking alarm and flashing red lights made her realize that she was awake and that a true emergency existed. Leaping from the bed, she shed her pajamas in two quick movements, and she had her trousers on before the pajama buttons had even stopped rolling on the deck. No message to abandon ship was being broadcast, so she took a few extra seconds to button her blouse and seal her tunic before racing to the bridge.
Chapter Eight
~ July 9
th
, 2267 ~
Pandemonium isn't a word that should ever be used to describe events aboard a ship in space, but it most accurately characterized the situation Jenetta discovered upon entering the bridge. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn't have believed it. The first and second watch groups were both rushing about screaming orders, or answers, while red emergency lights flickered incessantly.
At the Academy, they screen a preposterously amusing vid for all new cadets showing what
not
to do when an enemy strikes. That worst-case example seemed almost like a piano recital compared to the chaos on the Vordoth's bridge. Captain Lentz's presence was conspicuously absent in the bedlam so Jenetta headed towards Gloria, who was concentrating her attention on the astrogator's console, to the exclusion of all else.
"What's going on?" Jenetta shouted to Gloria, trying to be heard above the din.
"We're under attack by Raiders," Gloria shouted back as her hands tapped furiously at contact points on the console's control panel.
"Where's the captain?"
"We can't contact him!" Gloria shouted out without ever slowing her efforts. "I think he was in the stern-most laser array link when the attack commenced. He came to the bridge about an hour ago and told me that he was going to check out a problem with its weapons control system."
"Why are we traveling sub-light?"
"Our Light Speed drive has been disengaged by the anti-collision system! I'm trying to reengage it, but no matter how many times I reset it and alter our course, it still refuses to build an envelope! When we spotted fighters heading our way, I ordered the sub-light engines to full power. They're on a manual override so the ACS can't shut
those
down."
"What can I do to help?"
"I— I— I don't know. See if you can help out with the weapons fire control."
Without further word, Jenetta wheeled and rushed to the fire control consoles at the rear bulkhead where two crewmen were futilely trying to hit numerous small targets. The tiny ships, a dozen kilometers out, seemed intent on passing the Vordoth. Jenetta assumed their goal was to fire on the main ship, but with the Vordoth pushing her sub-light engines at maximum acceleration, the fighters were finding it difficult to overtake the ship while flying an erratic course that would help them avoid laser fire. Several Vordoth crewmen watched in fear and silence, while a half dozen others, like spectators at a sporting event, yelled frenzied warnings or shouted advice to the gunners. Several of the Raider fighter craft were in fact occasionally firing on the Vordoth. They seemed to be targeting the freighter's laser arrays as they dodged and weaved their way forward, pushing their small craft to the limits of their engines. This was no computer game or simulation.
"Trying to reduce our fire capability, I assume," Jenetta said out-loud to no one in particular; and it was doubtful that anyone heard her words.
Each of the weapon screens showed the area of fire covered by the laser arrays under the control of that gunner, and each of his arrays tracked the target, but the weapons control computer selectively discharged only the array closest to the enemy craft when the command to fire was received. Jenetta watched in stunned silence and amazement as the two gunners poured an almost continuous stream of laser pulses towards the six fighters, yet never damaged a single craft. She noticed that they consistently divided their fire among all available targets instead of concentrating on one until it was destroyed. Another failing was that they never waited to get a targeting system lock on the fighters before firing. Without a lock, they might as well have been aiming a spotlight at the fighters.
By concentrating her attention on the attackers, Jenetta felt sure that she saw a pattern to their movements, but her attempts to instruct the undisciplined gunners were seemingly unheard and went unanswered. The gunner on the starboard weapons console was bobbing and weaving like a prize fighter, as though his movements and ‘body English' could somehow make up for a serious deficiency in weapons training. Unable to contain herself any longer, Jenetta finally reached out and grabbed the collar of his tunic during one of his bobs to the right. Using the momentum of his own body, as with a judo move, Jenetta yanked him clear of the chair, sat down, locked onto a target, and fired before the crewman had even stopped rolling on the deck.
* * *
Arlie ‘Vulture' Leggmann grinned wickedly as he fired an intermittent stream of laser pulses into the freighter. He loved his work. While other young boys had dreamed of building things, he'd known that he was born to kill and destroy. The three deadly arson fires that he'd set in his own neighborhood before he was even ten-years-old proved that. The third blaze had been his last though, at least until he reached eighteen. He'd been repeatedly observed chortling and trying to mask his glee, while firemen risked their lives to rescue the people and pets trapped in the homes. A suspicious cop worked with arson investigators to put the pieces together and Leggmann was arrested. Convicted of seven counts of murder, along with arson charges, he'd been sent to a juvenile facility for rehabilitation. Somewhere along the way, he learned to effectively conceal his psychosis from psychologists appointed to evaluate his mental condition. Despite the number of deaths he'd caused, his tender age at the time of the offenses saved him from being remanded to an adult facility to continue the sentences when he reached eighteen. He was instead released back into an unsuspecting society.
As soon as he was free, Leggmann took up where he'd left off, but having been incarcerated once for arson and murder, the cops were quick to identify him as their number one suspect. Leggmann knew he had to clear out or wind up in prison again. Fortunately for him, there are always people who need a good psychopath on their payroll, and Leggmann had no difficulty finding gainful and self-gratifying employment. When the organization of the loan shark and smuggler for whom he'd been working was absorbed by the giant Raider organization, Leggmann found new opportunities to explore his proclivities. Although some of his associates thought at first that his nickname referred to his beak-like nose, it was in reality a reference to his societal propensities.
Leggmann wasn't really trying to do any real damage to the Vordoth— yet. In fact, he was under strict orders
not
to cause any serious damage. Captain Goshan wanted the cargo section intact and had even ordered all rockets be removed from the fighters prior to this mission. Leggmann was only trying to panic the freight haulers with a few insipid hits. He reasoned that the more nervous they were, the less likely they were to damage any of his squadron. But in a few more minutes he would reach the main ship and then he would show them what damage really was. If he could punch enough holes to evacuate their atmosphere, the fight would be over before it really began. You can't fight when you're sucking vacuum.
"Vulture One to Vulture flock. As soon as we reach the main ship, target their sub-light engines. Then fill that ship with so many holes it'll look like that old dartboard in the ship's canteen. Vulture One out."
Leggmann felt only a slight tickle in his ribs as several powerful pulses of coherent light punctured the unarmored sidewall of the fighter cockpit, just below his armpits. He never even knew he was dead. The smirking grin was still on his face as the top half of his body began to topple. His final seconds of thought were devoted to wondering why he seemed to be bending forward. As his upper torso landed at his feet, his detached arms were only slowly beginning to yield their tight grip on the joystick and throttle controls.
* * *
Jenetta knew she had scored a kill when the fighter suddenly veered to starboard and corkscrewed away from the freighter. Even the weapons computer acknowledged that it was no longer a serious threat. When the blip representing that target winked out, a loud cheer went up behind her. Jenetta immediately shifted the targeting control towards another blip, tracked the target, got a lock, and fired again. Almost instantly, that blip disappeared from the screen as well, followed by another loud cheer. Her third shot went marginally wide as the small enemy ship zigzagged just as she fired, but her next burst caught it dead center and the blip winked out as a fuel cylinder was breached and the small ship took on the appearance of a diminutive sun for the briefest of seconds. Her new cheering section let out another whoop before turning their attention back to the other gunner.
The remaining three fighters must have realized that the starboard side had suddenly become the more deadly of the two because they limited their flight to the area her arrays couldn't target. They also increased their evasive maneuvers, which thankfully further slowed their forward progress.
Jenetta watched anxiously as the crewman controlling the larboard weapons failed to get a lock on his targets and just fired randomly as fast as he could pull the trigger. As she rolled her eyes, her gaze flitted across a master switch that swapped control of the guns. Designed to allow either console to take over for the other in the event of an equipment malfunction, the switch offered her an opportunity to supplant the other gunner without again resorting to physical means.
The three remaining fighters were just seconds from the main ship when Jenetta reached up and flipped the switch, giving her control of the larboard weapons. Totally absorbed in his task when the images on the screens swapped, the crewman at the left station just stared dumbly at the blank screen in front of him and tried to figure out what happened to his targets while Jenetta got a lock on the lead fighter and fired. And it took just a few more seconds for her to destroy the other two attacking small craft. All those years of playing the video game she carried on her log ring hadn't been a waste of time after all.
As the last blip winked out on the targeting screens, the bridge erupted in cheers. Jenetta slumped in the chair as the adrenaline drained from her system. She only became aware that Gloria was standing directly behind her when she felt hands on her shoulders.
"Great shooting, Jen," Gloria said breathlessly. "Six kills. Thank
God
you were here."
Suddenly remembering the crewman that she had plucked by his collar so unceremoniously and ignominiously, Jenetta looked up at the people surrounding her. Now standing near her right side, the ejected gunner smiled ingenuously at her and gave her a thumbs-up sign. She'd expected to see resentment for her action in his eyes, but she saw nothing but genuine relief. She smiled and returned his sign, then turned to the crewman in the chair next to her and said, "I'm sorry that I took over your console. There wasn't time to ask politely."
"Ensign, I'm just relieved to have survived the attack. I couldn't seem to hit even one of those bastards. I thought we were all dead meat for sure. You can take over for me
anytime
. That was great shooting, by the way. Maybe you could give me some pointers when you have a chance?"
"I'd be happy to," Jenetta said, smiling, and with a profound sense of relief that that she hadn't destroyed the new friendships that she'd been cultivating with the bridge crewmembers.
"Okay, everyone, calm down," Gloria announced, "this isn't over yet. Let's get busy and find out what kind of shape we're in. Someone turn off the damn red alert lighting, and
please
, somebody find the captain and get him up here."
The communications operator called out, "Lieutenant, the chief engineer is waiting to speak with you."
"Put it through to the captain's briefing room. Jen, uh— come with me."
With Sabella leading the way, the two women crossed to the captain's briefing room on the larboard side of the bridge. As the doors quietly slid closed behind them, the red alert lights stopped flashing and the horns wailing in the ship's corridors ended their plaintive yowls. The chief engineer's face immediately filled the screen when Gloria raised the cover on the captain's desktop com unit.
"How bad is it, Charley?" Gloria asked.
"The bastards hit us hard, Gloria!" Charley said, his face ablaze with anger. "We lost the last two cargo link-sections and we have some serious damage along the spine. A number of containers were hit. Two are spilling contents. The only way to stop the spill may be to bring the ship to a stop."
"We can't stop, Charley. Engage their grav decking. That will stop the spillage."
"I've already ordered that for all damaged containers. The two still leaking cargo must have sustained damage to their ship connections or control systems. We have to plug the holes."
"See if you can get me a list of the containers that are spilling so I can see what we're losing. Uh— Charley, is the captain with you? He went out to the aft gun section a while ago?"
"He's not with
us
." There was a slight pause and a much calmer and somber Charley said, "I was in the sack when the red alert sounded. If the captain was still in the aft link when the fighters struck, then he's gone, along with anyone else that was back there with him."
Following a sharp intake of breath, Gloria leaned heavily on the desk and said, "Thank you, Charley. Keep me inform-ed as you get any new information. Sabella out."
Gloria's face was ashen. The change that had come over her in just seconds was astonishing.
"We're in trouble," Gloria said weakly. "Without the captain, we're doomed."
The utter despair in Gloria's voice was obvious, and she had begun to tremble all over.
"You're just giving up?" Jenetta asked. "Without a fight?"
"I'm not a fighter, Jen, I'm a freight hauler. I don't know what to do next. Hell, I didn't know what to do before, when the fighters attacked. If I hadn't been needed to work at resetting the ACS, I would probably have run from the bridge. I was that scared."
"Whatever you do," Jenetta said with a calm and steady voice, "don't let the crew see you like this. They have to believe that you know exactly what you're doing at all times— even if you don't. Their courage comes from their captain, so you must have enough for everybody."