Crucible of a Species (47 page)

*~~*~~*~~*

The door to CIC was code-locked
to the DNA clusters of a few privileged individuals. Ester Esperanza placed her hand on the latch. The contact sent a tingle through her fingers as the panel turned green. The door swung open registering her entry as the officer in charge of security.

Esperanza stepped inside and saw confusion on Lieutenant Anderson’s face, “Ester, do you know what’s going on? I’ve lost contact with the bridge.”

Anderson’s eyes widened when he noticed the pistol in Esperanza’s hand, “Sorry Bob, but that’s not anything you need to worry about.” Her hand motioned for them to move back from the workstation.

“Alex, keep an eye on them.”

Esperanza moved down the bulkhead to place her palm on a section of the wall. A hatch opened revealing a small compartment with two command stations. The walls evaporated into a view of the cosmos outside as she entered. One of Jupiter’s larger moons, a sphere the size of Mars, lay directly ahead. To their port side loomed the awesome beauty of the gas giant taking up more than a third of their field of vision.

Semitransparent control clusters surrounded the seats, already alive with charts and slowly scrolling data. Esperanza’s hand brushed the back of the portside chair linking her tattoo communicator to the interface as she settled into the captain’s seat. Her eyes glossed over for a moment while the interface updated the link then, resting her right hand on the arm of the chair, she downloaded the course given to her yesterday by Nolen.

The panorama swung around until the bright swirling bands of Jupiter lay ahead. Jupiter’s disk grew in size as they accelerated on a course that barely skimmed above the planet’s thin set of rings; the ship’s passing drawing crystalline ice and dust from them into a trailing cyclone of particles that refracted the weak rays of the far off sun into thousands of wispy rainbows in the wake of their passage.

Argos leveled off above the wild storms a scant thousand miles below. The stormy monument towering ahead was the great Red Spot of Jupiter, a cylinder extending high above the surrounding cloud-tops and Argos.

Argos slammed into the storm’s sidewall and for the first time the crew felt motion in the flight of the ship as it slammed into the barrier of gravitic turbulence. Sheer willpower kept Esperanza’s reluctant eyes open as her hands grabbed the controls in a steely grip of death. They were falling. Ahead of them extended a long dark tunnel through which the Argos plummeted into the hells of black infinity. To their sides, the fury of the Red Spot swirled, encircling the Argos in the calm eye of a fierce temporal tornado.

Esperanza sat in her chair stunned by the cacophony of sounds assaulting her ears until she realized that the aural battering wasn’t from the horrors outside. The sounds of hell, the angry screams of its lost souls and the thunder of the damned flooded in from the compartment behind. It took all her willpower to turn and look.

*~~*~~*~~*

Sergeant Steve Martel
and Midshipman Brittany Thornsen led the squad through the passageways towards Engineering. The smoothness of the wave drive prevented them from feeling the change in ship’s course as it turned in towards Jupiter so they continued unaware of the takeover. Shouting and the sounds of a struggle filled the passage ahead. Martel urged them on, “Hurry but keep the noise down, take them by surprise. Remember, identify your targets but if they fire don’t hesitate.”

The passage ahead was quiet when they reached the last turn except for some hushed movement. Martel charged into the middle of corridor and saw a lone figure standing over two bodies on the floor. The air smelled of garlic and the stunner in the figure’s hand was swinging towards them.

“Lower your weapon,” Martel began then, “… Colonel, we have problems.”

“Just solved two of mine.” Drake commented as he bent down to feel the pulse of one of the bodies. “Shit, he turned at the last second, didn’t mean to kill the boy.

“They jumped me as I headed for the cafeteria. I’m glad to see ‘ya, sergeant now give me a situation report and start with telling me where in hell you managed to come by such heavy armament and the midshipman.”

Martel looked at the midshipman, she waved him on, “I told you, your show Sergeant.”

“Smart girl,” Drake drawled.

“We …, uh, I’ve been securing arms outside of the armory since liftoff and …”

“That’s all I need. You’re not in any trouble Sergeant and I damn well know you couldn’t get access without Marshall’s help. Where’re you heading?”

“The auxiliary bridge.”

Drake immediately started for Engineering but not before giving the sergeant a reproachful look, “We’re in luck. I put guards on the doors in spite of your assurances there would be no problems. Guess we’re both a little paranoid.”

They rounded the final corner to find two marines lying on the floor, a third stood over them. “Mutiny!” Thornsen shouted while bringing her rifle up but the marine at the door was faster. Drake felt a blow on his left side as the beam narrowly missed, passing behind him to bring down one of the navy ratings. He threw himself across the passage while firing. Thornsen’s shot passed close by, both their beams striking the hapless mutineer.

A taste of sour garlic from the stunner’s near miss filled the colonel’s mouth as he struggled to his feet and hurried over to the downed mutineer. He had to get the unconscious, spasm-wracked girl propped upright before she choked to death. Catching two stun rifle charges at close range wasn’t good for the human body.

Martel passed behind him and tried the handle but the door wouldn’t open.

“I’ll get it, Sarge.” Thornsen said as she shouldered the big marine to the side and set her fingertips on the wall pad. The door slid open to a well-aimed stun bolt that struck, flinging her back and into the others. A trio of stun charges flashed into Engineering through the open door frame in response as the marines scattered. Martel heard a burst of deadly ceramic ‘riot load’ Pulsar fire ricochet off the frame, narrowly passing by his head as he dove for cover.

The Argos slipped to the side and jolted flinging everyone across the passageway.

Colonel Drake struggled up, pulling himself back behind the doorframe. He grabbed a flash grenade from the unconscious middy’s belt, flipped it into the compartment and ducked behind the security of the frame. The grenade bounced off the back bulkhead and detonated. The blast slammed Drake’s head like a one-two punch by a pair of steel beams. His left side felt numb as he forced himself to rise and charge into the smoke filled room.

The room reeked of acrid fumes, urine and feces. Several mutineers lay strewn across the compartment, groaning in semiconscious agony.

“Get their weapons.” Drake shouted through split lips as he climbed past the bodies strewn across the compartment. Two figures sat in the command chairs of the bridge. The scene made no sense to the colonel but the pistol rising in the mutineer’s hand was clear. Drake lunged, twisting and ripping the weapon from the raised, shaking hand of the helmeted, half-stunned marine in the chair. The violence of his action sent his tortured stomach into a spasm but he held onto the weapon as he up-chucked its contents across the floor and his blouse.

It was over. Drake stood upright, visibly shaking as he stared into the void. The scene now made terrible sense from the vantage of the command compartment. They were plummeting down into an abyss towards the far end of an angry red tube. Vertigo flooded his senses but the groan he heard wasn’t his.

Drake gulped, forcing down another mouthful of bile but managed to growl, “Alright, move your hands slowly and get out of the chair or I’ll fire and drag your limp body from it.”

The figure rose and turned. Drake’s gut twisted when he recognized Esperanza, “Hold it, don’t even bother with the helmet. Just turn and put both hands on the chair.”

“I’m right behind you, Colonel.” Martel’s voice came from behind. “Move aside, I’ll memcord his hands.”

Drake didn’t bother to tell the sergeant who it was. Dazed himself, he watched the mutineer slowly sink to the deck before turning to stumble back into Engineering. Martel pushed past, cursing as he dragged the body over to the other mutineers. The colonel simply stared at them. It was a good excuse to do nothing while gathering strength for one last command. “Martel, help her remove the helmet then head back and report to Sergeant Marshall or whoever’s in charge. Ask them to send help and a pilot if they can, lord knows we need both.”

Drake looked around the compartment one more time, silently praying Marshall and Meecham had been successful. He and Martel were the only ones still on their feet and he felt like he couldn’t hold off an attack by a determined butterfly as he stumbled across the bodies to lean against the bulkhead.

After a few moments Drake pushed into a corner and used it to slowly slide down to the deck, I can watch the doorframe as well as part of the outside passage from here until relief comes. Need to rest a few minutes …. stay awake until then.

*~~*~~*~~*

Pfc. John Estes ducked
around the corner of the passageway and put his back to the bulkhead. “This ain’t gonna be pleasant,” He whispered to Chief Meecham, “Too many doors.”

Meecham ignored the comment. He was busy trying to look beyond the guard at the main entrance to the cafeteria. His mouth was dry and tasted like shit. He’d never done anything like this and was thinking he’d been crazy to agree. Well, he wouldn’t let the marine know he was scared, “They won’t be expecting us. Now shaddup or we’re not gonna hear when the guys move in from the back of the galley.”

Shouts and Pulsar fire erupted in the compartment. Meecham swallowed hard, motioned and charged in. Screaming at the top of their lungs, they crashed through the doors, pushing back personal fears of the next stunner bolt that would slam them to the deck.

Rather than stun-beams, ceramic shards from a Pulsar’s “riot load” ripped through bodies and across the cafeteria, bouncing off the compartment’s bulkheads as the shot screamed down the outside passageway. Meecham spun from a sharp blow and pain in his arm,
Damn, must of gotten through the armor joint.

Marines went down on each side of him as they entered but most were able to spread out, seeking the false protection of chairs and overturned tables. Meecham spotted a mutineer across the compartment and snapped off a quick shot. He was answered by the heavy crack of a Pulsar with a full load that punched through the bulkhead hitting one of the men outside. It spun the marine around, spewing blood across the passageway.

Meecham screamed as he charged across the open floor,“Get up and follow me.”  Shots rang past him and the compartment filled with residue from their stun guns. The CPO spotted another figure aiming at him and snapped off a burst as he flung himself to the side.

Savage cries and shouting filled the hall, people scrambled for cover or rose to fire into the chaos of the action. Unless they were pointing a weapon at you, it was impossible to tell friend from foe. Meecham was amazed to see unarmed captives rise without weapons or armor and charge the mutineers who had turned their backs in response to the attack of Meecham and his squad. Confusion, angry snarls and the low growling screams of hand-to-hand combat flooded the compartment. People used whatever they could put their hands on as a weapon.

The mutineers fell before the onslaught and the melee began to degenerate into something brutal and savage as a voice accustomed to giving commands thundered above the din, “Attention! Stop this. Stop and lay down your weapons. The mutiny is over, you’ve lost.”

A hush fell over a cafeteria that now reeked of the stomach wrenching scent of sour garlic. Armed men and women stood and began to sort out the mutineers. Many bodies lay on the deck while most others simply sat or knelt with their hands in the air as they awaited their fate. A few areas contained spreading pools of blood left there by those less lucky.

CPO Meecham heard the microphone activate a second time and looked over to where the podium was once located. Colonel Drake stood on the edge of the stage, his arm in a bloodied sling, “Shoot anyone who gets up off their knees until we sort this out. Someone, you there, call sickbay.”

*~~*~~*~~*

Captain Adrian Lee
leaned on the edge of his desk, watching doctors Nolen and Thompson standing like two wayward children before Colonel Drake. Nolen sported a bruise under his right eye where a misdirected fist caught him during the melee but for the moment, he had forgotten the pain as he stared in disbelief at the colonel.

“You’ve really fucked us up this time, Nolen. The captain just confirmed that we’re back inside that damned Tippler Cylinder time transport, all made possible by your preaching and the navigation you provided the mutineers. This entire mutiny, the lives lost and all the spilt blood rest on your head. To add salt to the wound, the ship took a beating getting here and because we are once again in that damned natural time machine, we have no idea just when in time we’re going to end up.”

Nolen’s face was white, “It’s quite obvious. We’re back inside the temporal storm of the red spot but we’re not close enough to its center to resolve the cosmic string so our presence here is quite benign. In spite of this recent unpleasantness, there is still hope. We are nearly home and I can update the course …”

Thompson interrupted, “You know it’s not that simple, Phillip. We’re within the event horizon of the Tippler Cylinder and …”