Excerpt from Yesterday's Frontiers: A Spacer's Story by Captain Dale Carruthers
Starbridge 22141 was floating quietly through space. I tried to bring up a map, to see where we were, but no luck. All the systems were down. We were disabled, and a sitting duck. Last thing I remembered was us jumping out, a monster ship shooting hellfire at us. The next thing I knew, we were in the next system. But we were in one piece...though from the creaking noises the ship was making, hull integrity was probably about as funny as a rip in a spacesuit.
Ok. Bad metaphor.
I tried to toggle the intercom, but that was down too. I looked around the smokey control room, trying to see how the damage looked. Panels were hanging open, wires were arcing, and above all a pungent smell was permeating the control room. Smelled like...
Crap.
Fearing the worst, I delicately checked down my pants. "Whew," I breathed. It wasn't me. I looked over towards Arthur. Unfortunately, judging by his light gray pants, it wasn't him, either.
The engineer limped his way into the control room. "You guys OK?" he asked. Then he sniffed. "What the hell is that?" he demanded.
"I think the toilet took a hit," I replied.
"Really," he said, looking at me deadpan.
"Really," I insisted. "Trust me, I checked - I usually notice my body functions."
"Not the kid, either?" he asked.
"Nope."
"Too bad."
"Look, can you get one of the medics in here to look at him?" I asked. "It's quite relaxing when he's catatonic, but having a copilot would really be nice."
"Sure," he replied.
"Oh, and...sorry, I didn't catch your name," I began, apologetically.
"No worries," he said. "Artemios George."
"Thanks...is George ok?" I asked. "I'm pretty bad with new names."
"George is fine," he said. "Now, what kind of damage do we have?"
"Definitely a few breakers," I said. "We've got no power up here."
"Lucky for us we're full of ship parts, eh?" George asked. "I'll get the boys to work.
"How fast can we be underway?" I asked.
"In a hurry?" he asked. "We're safe - we escaped!"
"George," I began. "We're the only thing that's seen that Hellship and survived. If I was them, I'd be chasing me. You see how big that thing was?"
"Yeah," George said. "We're lucky to be alive."
"And something that big takes at least three days to jump," I said. "We take one. So we pretty much have 48 hours to get this floating disaster area going. Feeling motivated?"
Ok, that last sentence was wasted oxygen. George was out the door right after the '48 hours' bit.
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47 hours left
I checked my watch. The engineers would have loved to use the ship's self-diagnostics to figure out what was wrong, but with no power, that was a bit pointless. Art was curled up in a corner, sleeping off a sedative shot the hysterical medic had given him. Fifteen men on a Starbridge with no life support - even with the portable air scrubbers, the air stank. But at least we weren't going to die. Well, not from asphyxiation, any rate.
Whether we were going to die of massive battle damage was another question entirely.
I got up and walked aft. "How's things?" I asked one of the engineers.
"Almost done," she said. She connected a few more leads to a new breaker board, and slid it into a recess. "Chuck," she yelled. "Ready for a power test?"
"Yo!" a deep voice rumbled back. "Fire it up, Charisse!"
She flipped a switch, and the dim red emergency lights cut out, replaced by the soothing white corridor lights. I squinted for a second. "What's next?"
She looked up at me. "Right, the only thing wrong with life support was no power. The melted board was probably feedback from the shield failure. So it'll stop stinking, as soon as Max fixes the toilet."
"Thanks, Charisse," I said. "What can I do?"
"You can go back up to the cockpit, flyboy, and print us out some fancy self-diagnostic sheets," she smiled. "And let us get back to work."
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36 hours left
"I wish there was something we could do to help," one of the other medics admitted, as he sat in the right seat next to me.
"Well, we're not engineers," I said. "Wish we'd brought more than five of them."
"The DCS figured that we might need medics," he replied. "Bastard."
"Hey, take it easy," I said. "How was he supposed to know?"
"How long 'till they show up?"
I checked the clock. "Thirty-seven hours."
"What's left?"
"Two of the boys are sealing hull breaches," I said. "George and Charisse are working the engines, and the last guy is swearing at the wiring. That shield feedback fried us damn good."
"How long?" the medic asked.
"'Nother few hours," I said. "We should be done in plenty of time."
The medic stiffened. "Look!" he said. "Jump stars!" he exclaimed, using the slang for an incoming hyperspace trail.
"Three of 'em, coming in fast - from the wrong way," I ground out. I slapped the comm. "George, things are going south. How long?"
"We've got a slagged converter in here," he said. "Bill's outside - he says a rail gun shot nosed it's way into some delicate stuff. He's trying to arc it apart."
"We've got incoming," I said. "Get your people inside."
"What?!" he demanded. "But you said-"
"All I can think of is that he had onboard fighters," I shot back. "Three jump stars, inbound from where we came from."
The jump stars reverted, all too close to where we were. "More ugly ships," I mumbled. I punched the IFF. Pirate Thunderheads, whatever they were. They didn't look friendly.
"Thunderheads," the medic cursed. "We're dead."
"You know them?" I asked.
"I liked watching old holomovies," he said, apologetically. "Mean customers. Fast, deadly, and armed."
"Greetings, Starbridge," the comm crackled. "My lord was worried that you might be lonely, so far from civilization. He bids me tell you that he is on his way, as quickly as possible, to keep you company. Meanwhile myself and my two mates are here to keep you safe."
It was quite a cultured voice, really - not like the dead voice from the monster ship.
"I appreciate it," I said. "But we're fine, thank you very much. Just go back to 'your lord' and give him my best, ok? And tell him to go to hell."
I knew the moment I said it that I'd made a mistake. The lead Thunderhead swooped in, and let loose with a painfully bright green bolt of light. The beam blasted the side of the hull. The ship shook, and we were knocked sideways. The two engineers out there didn't have a chance.
"Where are your manners, my dear Captain?" the voice asked. "Mind your P's and Q's, so my dear mother always said."
"These guys are animals," the medic whispered, as stunned as I was.
And I was a fool. Again.
"Dale, I've lost contact with Marty and Niko," George's voice broke in. "What happened?"
"I killed them," I whispered.
"Dale, this is George, come in. What's going on?" he repeated.
I numbly pushed the contact down. "They're...gone," I said. "I'm...sorry." I mumbled.
"Have patience," the voice suggested. "My lord will be here shortly."
(This message has been edited by ElGuapo7 (edited 10-15-2003).)
