“I’ll return to the
Tyrant
,” Captain Primo said, standing up. Everyone around the table then stood, several quickly leaving the ready room.
Captain Drago said, “Get back to your ship, Capitano Primo. But no assistance will be necessary. The day I can’t handle two measly Marauders is the day I need to be put out to pasture. Go … I’ll keep you apprised.”
“And Mr. Frost?” Captain Primo asked him, stopping halfway to the hatch.
“What better way to learn than from the best, Capitano,” he replied with a wry grin.
Chapter 30
As the ready room cleared out, Captain Drago stood and took several seconds to relight his pipe. He sucked in several long breaths, the bowl coming alive with bright orange embers. Collin remained standing, not sure what he was supposed to do next. The captain took several more puffs and held up his hand, signaling Collin to stand by. Reluctantly, he removed the pipe’s stem from his lips and placed it in a metal ashtray on the table.
“A remarkable new blend I’m not about to waste over two little Marauders.” Drago pulled down the front of his uniform jacket that only exaggerated his round paunch. “This way, recruit.”
Captain Drago moved past Collin and exited the ready room. Fast on his heels, Collin followed. Ten steps down the corridor they walked into the bridge. About half the size of the
Tyrant
’s, this bridge had several generations older technology. There was also significantly less attention given to customary military formality. Several bridge crew officers had their uniform’s top buttons open, and there was an assortment of used cups and food items strewn about the tops of consoles. Three crewmen were standing in a group off to the side. They didn’t acknowledge the captain as he entered and only when he took a seat in the command chair did they disperse, going to their respective posts.
“Take a seat, Mr. Frost,” Captain Drago said, gesturing to a padded chair set slightly back from his own.
“Capitano, the Marauders have left Notares space and are on a direct course for Nero Station.”
“Thank you, Mr. Capo,” the captain replied.
Mr. Capo took a bite of what remained of his half-eaten sandwich before returning his attention back to his board.
“Helm, back us out of here and put us on an intersecting course. Maximum power to the thrusters.”
Collin waited for the typical
Aye
or
Yes, Sir
… but it didn’t come. As if reading Collin’s thoughts, Captain Drago leaned back in his seat and half-turned toward the teen.
“We’re like a family here, on board the
Helix
,
Mr. Frost. Regs are a little more lax here than you’ll find on other Brotherhood warships.”
Collin nodded and saw one of the crewmembers look over and give him a shrug and a wink. The forward display was yet to be turned on.
What are they waiting for?
Collin thought, and then it suddenly came alive. In the distance he saw two ships approaching. They looked just like the other three he’d seen while on board the
Tyrant
. For a brief moment he wondered if Principessa Valora, Captain Primo’s supposed wife, was on board either ship.
“Capitano, we’re being hailed,” a pasty-faced woman said off to the left, her fingers poised to tap on a blinking panel light.
Drago continued to stare at the screen in silence. Several seconds passed before he answered, “I’m not interested in anything they have to say. Tactical, charge forward guns.”
“Guns are charged … we have a lock on both vessels.”
Collin sat forward in his seat. He was finding it difficult to hold his tongue.
What the hell
would the captain lose by answering their damn hail?
“They still haven’t charged weapons, Capitano. Maybe we should …”
Drago’s head spun in the direction of his tactical officer. “You want to sit here, Jonto? Maybe come sit on my lap and we can command this ship together?”
The tactical officer simply shrugged. “No, that’s all right. It’s your bridge … your ship.”
Collin wasn’t much for believing in things supernatural, but he was having a premonition—alarms going off in his head—they were all going to die on this fucking ship of fools within the next few seconds.
“Fire both guns, Jonto … blow them away.”
Collin felt the weapons fire, each pulse like a hammer blow, emanating from somewhere below the bridge.
Thump thump thump
thump …
The two Kardon Guard Marauders changed course at the same instant—one going left, the other going right. The ship on the left rolled, followed by an elaborate set of maneuvering that miraculously helped it evade most of the
Helix
’s weapon fire. The other vessel, the one on the right, didn’t fare nearly as well.
“Her shields are down. She’s sucking space … Orders?” Jonto asked.
“Finish her,” Captain Drago replied.
Collin wasn’t going to say anything, but the words flew from his mouth: “They’re done for … why don’t we just capture them?”
“Keep your mouth shut, recruit,” Drago snapped, without looking at Collin. “Vaporize them, Tactical.”
Thump thump thump
thump …
The Marauder exploded in so brilliant a flash that the display went totally blank for several seconds. Then, there was nothing there at all.
“Shit! The other one … she’s coming up our backside!” Jonto said, sounding scared.
“Charge stern guns and target—”
The captain’s words were cut short by a thunderous blast from behind. Collin knew little about a warship’s anatomy, but he was sure they’d just taken a devastating hit, about mid-ship.
“Shields are completely gone … we’re venting to space on decks three and four.”
The display changed to a port-side perspective. The remaining Marauder was sitting idle, just off their port side.
“Being hailed again, Capitano,” the communications officer relayed, her fingers poised over the flashing console light.
Drago was on his feet. “What do we have left?”
“We have mid-ship torpedoes. Won’t be able to get a lock, though, with the damage … I can only eyeball it.”
“Load cannula tubes five and six.”
Jonto shook his head and grimaced. “They’ll detect it—”
“Just do it … just do what I tell you!” Captain Drago screamed, desperation in his voice.
Collin’s eyes never left the display—the looming presence of the Marauder.
The Kardon Guard ship fired. The sound was like nothing Collin had ever heard, ever experienced. Explosions so loud his hearing was reduced to an ongoing high ringing in his ears. Sparks flared up from virtually every console on the bridge. The final concussive blast lifted both Collin and Captain Drago several feet into the air, then landed them hard onto the deck. The ship seemed to be coming apart around them—a wrecked ship, mere seconds from its inevitable doom.
Collin lay on his back and stared up at the top of the concave, umbrella-like struts that supported the top of the bridge. Several of the struts, or beams, were missing. Smoke was everywhere. As he slowly sat up, he almost choked on what he saw. All the bridge crew, from what he could tell, were dead. The decapitated body of the communications lady lay on the deck, near Collin’s legs. One of her hands was still twitching. The beams above had fallen, crushing the entire left side of the bridge and everyone beneath them.
Collin was certain he was the only one still alive. The forward display was flickering on, then off, then on again. He could still see the Marauder
,
hovering on their port side.
Collin knew one thing for certain; he didn’t have long to live if he stayed on this ship. Stepping over the communications officer, he made his way over to her console. Her board was a mess. Blood everywhere. He looked for the strobing light—and there it was. Collin pressed the rectangular indicator and it stopped flashing. He looked over to the display.
“Hello?” he said, his own voice sounding faint. Collin waited.
“Who am I addressing?” came a female voice.
“Um … I’m Collin Frost … Commander Collin Frost. Can you help me?”
The silence seemed to last for hours. “I’m not sure there’s a way to get you out of there … even if I wanted to.”
Collin saw the display flicker back on and the image of a blonde-haired officer looking back at him.
“Principessa Valora?”
She didn’t reply but sat forward, as if trying to get a better view of him.
“Look, I’m just a kid. I’m not really a part of any of this—”
She scowled. “You’re wearing a damn Brotherhood uniform! How can you even say that?”
Collin felt overwhelmed. How could he explain everything in time? “I was … me and my friends were abducted in a sim rover collector ship a few days ago. We escaped in a mining ship. When we got free we were found by the Brotherhood … by your husband.”
“
My
husband?” she repeated, an expression of disbelief crossing her face. “What do you know about my husband?” But she suddenly looked a bit more interested.
“Capitano Dante Primo, the Duca of something or other … He helped us. Said he’d get us back to Earth if we served on his ship for a year. He’s … a good guy,” Collin summarized, realizing how stupid that sounded.
She stared back at him for several long beats. “Yeah, he is a good guy. Your story is too incredibly ridiculous to be anything but true.” She let out a breath and shook her head. “Damn. Okay, I’ll shuttle over. It’ll take me a few minutes. Try to stay alive.” The display went black.
Collin looked around the ruined bridge and felt his legs scoot out beneath him. He slid down the side of the console and started to shake uncontrollably. Tears filled his eyes as he took in all the carnage.
So much death! How had he survived? Why had he survived?
Help …. me …
The voice was faint, but Collin definitely heard it. He turned his head left and then right, trying to determine where the voice was coming from. The ringing in his ears had subsided somewhat, but not completely. “Where are you? Keep talking,” Collin said, getting to his feet. Unsteadily, he stepped over the dead communications officer.
“I’m … here … I’m Capt … tain.”
Collin saw two feet protruding beneath one of the felled metal ceiling beams. He realized he’d have to approach from the rear of the bridge. Stumbling over something in the near darkness, he avoided falling only by grabbing onto the upturned command chair. Looking down at his feet, he saw he’d tripped over a severed head:
Ugh
, the comms lady.
Collin retched, and felt bile burn the back of his throat. Careful not to fall on the slippery deck plates, he maneuvered around to the rear of the bridge.
Captain Drago was lying on his back, his flipped-over command chair covering one of his arms, and a metal beam lying across his legs. A thin stream of blood ran out the left side of his mouth. His eyes tracked Collin as he approached.
“Help me … I’m trapped … can’t move my legs.”
“Hold on, Capitano. Help is on the way.” Collin knelt down next to him and assessed the situation. Carefully, he lifted the command chair off Drago’s far shoulder and let it flip away, onto the deck.
The captain nodded. “That’s better. My legs … can’t move my legs.”
That was going to be a problem. The beam looked heavy. Collin duck-walked over to the beam where it crossed the captain’s legs.
“This might hurt, Captain,” Collin said, getting a firm grip on the beam. He pulled, but the beam barely budged and Drago screamed.
“We’ll have to leave him.”
Collin spun around to see the same blonde-haired woman now standing several feet behind him.
“No. I’m not going to leave him. Help me lift this beam … please.” Collin tried to remember her first name. “Constantina, please help him.”
She looked at the captain for a moment and moved over to the beam. “I should let him die here … I know this man. He’s an ass hole.”
Collin couldn’t argue with that. “On three?” he urged.
She nodded. “One … two … three.” They both lifted in unison. The captain screamed while the beam rose only several inches into the air and stopped.
“There’s no way … what’s your name again? Collin, right? We have to leave him, Collin. This ship is going to implode in a matter of minutes.”
Collin looked around for something—perhaps a fulcrum—a piece of metal he could wedge beneath the beam. Then he noticed his own wrist.
“What?” she asked, following his gaze.
“I need to get these things off my wrists.” Collin pushed a finger beneath the band on his right wrist.
“I don’t understand …what are you talking about?”
“They’re minimizer bands.”
Her expression went from confusion to understanding. “Really?”
Collin nodded, not having any luck getting the band off his wrist.
“I’ll have to shoot it off. Might hurt.”
“Shoot it?”
“Pull it away from your skin, as far as you can.”
The principessa pulled a Ponge 412 handgun from a holster on her hip. She adjusted the setting and pointed the muzzle toward the band on Collin’s wrist. He raised his arm and gritted his teeth.
“Don’t be such a pussy, kid. I’m a pretty good shot … well, usually,” she said with a smile, firing at the same time.
It did hurt, but the band came free. He rubbed his wrist and then held up his scorched other arm. Slipping a finger beneath that band, he pulled it away from his wrist. She fired again and this time he didn’t feel a thing, except the band falling free.
Collin felt a rush of energy, which made his head spin.
“We’re running out of time!” she said, gesturing toward the metal beam.
Collin took a second to think how he was going to tackle it. He readjusted his stance, bent over and placed his left hand flat on the deck, while reaching his other hand around, and under, the beam. He took in a breath—pushing and pulling. The beam came up as if it weighed nothing at all.
“Can you pull him free?” Collin asked, looking over to the principessa.
Snapping out of her astonishment, she said, “Sorry.” She placed her hands beneath the captain’s armpits and dragged him free from beneath the beam. He yelped once and fell unconscious.