Wednesday, August 1, 2012

War Angel: part sixty-seven


2142 – Leaving Phobos

Jack flipped the comm. switch. “Supersonic? Status?”

The channel stayed silent for a moment, long enough that Jack suddenly began to worry she had been sucked out of the ship through the hole. Finally a small crackle of static washed across the line, and Sarah responded. “It was a close one. We…” she stopped herself, mindful that the Omegans were likely keeping ears on them, “were lucky. Could have been a lot worse than it already is. We lost… a lot. But repairs will hold fine. We’re spaceworthy.”

“Good to know. Finish up and return to station. Desperado out.” Jack’s thoughts turned inward. He went through the mental checklist for the mission, repeating the steps over and over in his head, fretting over the near-disaster they had just experienced. No room for error, that was the guiding principle at work, and yet it had almost literally blown up in their faces at the starting line. “Not an auspicious start,” he whispered.

He looked around, watching his crew, and he could feel their anxiety rippling through the air. Gina was drumming her fingers across her console, while Ben was bouncing his leg uncontrollably, vibrating his entire body. Kate leaned back in her seat, staring at the ceiling like it was an enemy. Dr. Gray paced back and forth along the back wall. Sensing that he needed to do something, Jack cleared his throat. “I don’t know about you all, but I could use a beer.” That got a small laugh out of them, and Jack relaxed for a moment. As he did, Sarah entered the bridge, carrying a small stack of documents.

“Captain, my report on our situation.” She handed them to him and stepped aside. Jack leafed through them slowly, taking time to absorb the details of what he was seeing. Finally, he studied the last page and then began to smile, nodding at her in acknowledgment.

He handed the stack to Gina who perused it skeptically at first, but soon began to brighten. She passed it over to Kate who snorted and uttered a short “I’ll be damned” before giving the documents to Ben. As he finished, Wilma took them and read them intently.

“Wow,” she offered. “I can’t believe…”

“Understood, Doctor,” Jack cut her off. He stood up and pointed forward. “Signal the Rea’Cerb that we’re ready to go. We have a date to keep.”



J’rwa R’ybt strode onto the bridge of his ship, clearly not a happy man. His officers snapped to attention and he moved briskly to take his seat. “Helm! Status of enemy ship?”

“They have signaled readiness to depart.”

K’Darl moved to his commander’s side. “The Kan’Tar, my commander?”

The warrior charged with the leadership of the Rea’Cerb cracked his knuckles loudly. “The Kan’Tar forbids that ship’s destruction. That was made… clear… to me. So we will fulfill our mission as stated.”

“Pity,” K’Darl replied.

“Yes. Pity.” R’ybt muttered, sinking deeper into his chair. “For them.”



It shouldn’t have worked. The odds of it working were ludicrous. The timing, the luck… no one in their right mind would have thought it was a good idea, let alone an idea worth trying. Yet somehow it had.

The autopilot course had executed perfectly, plotting a path through fire, debris, and a small amount of open space. Disabling life support and every other system on board except for maneuvering thrusters and the navigation computer left an electromagnetic signature that looked like background dust and solar wind.

It shouldn’t have worked.

Yet wedged between a rear bulkhead and the engine housing of the Rea’Cerb sat the War Angel’s shuttle. Magnetic clamps held it firmly in place in an area where the ship’s own sensors would never look for it. It was, Richard thought, an absolute miracle.

“Scratch that,” he caught himself. “Only the first part of a miracle, assuming we can do this.” A small lurch pushed him back against the pilot seat, and he realized that they had just kicked the ship back up to speed. They were underway for the Kan’Tar.

He released himself the seat and made his way back into the cargo hold. Looking over the material he had been entrusted with, he began to break into a sweat. Three containers and three jobs… that was his entire world at that moment. The one holding his baby, the tachyon scoop; that was easy. He could re-attach it to the War Angel with ease, assuming he had a little privacy. But the others? “Impossible” felt like the right word.

Container two’s lid slid off gently. Inside, Richard looked at the War Angel’s main computer core. Everything truly important about the ship, every piece of data that simply could not be allowed into the hands of the Omegans, that was now in his possession, and if they were to escape their upcoming predicament, Richard was going to have to find a way to get inside the ship and reinstall that core, a process that takes hours.

“Like we’re going to have hours!” he said to himself, breaking the silence in the shuttle.

Moving to the third container, he shook his head and began swearing lightly. He sat down and rocked back and forth for a minute, wondering just how the hell Jack had expected him to deal with this on top of everything else. For a brief moment, Richard found himself thinking that he’d rather eat the computer core than go anywhere near the contents of container three. Finally, he stood and released the latches holding container three together. The walls split and fell to the floor, revealing what was inside. He took a deep breath and then pointed and spoke in his harshest tone.

“I. Hate. You.”

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