Ep.#4 - "Freedom's Dawn" (The Frontiers Saga) (27 page)

Nathan could feel his scrutiny. He could feel that he was being sized up. It was like he could read the old politician’s mind. He was trying very hard to make a leap of faith, one that he knew his world needed, but it could all go terribly wrong, and that was what was holding him back. Nathan returned his gaze as confidently as he could. “I can do this.”

* * *

Altogether, there had been twenty four members of the Yamaro’s crew in the cells, of which more than half were Corinairans. Rather than risk them all roaming the corridors unarmed, Enrique had chosen to leave six behind at the brig with Marcus and Loki. Once they had secured the nearest armory, they would send two of their eighteen back to the brig loaded down with as many weapons as they could carry. At that time, they could return to the hangar bay with sufficient forces to secure both the bay and their shuttle.

In groups of six—each led by either Enrique, Sergeant Weatherly, or Ensign Willard—they made their way forward through the corridors of the Yamaro. It had taken them only minutes to reach the nearest armory, and as promised, the Yamaro crewman Enrique now called number six had opened the armory doors with ease by simply placing his hand on the wall scanner.

The doors to the armory slid open slowly and evenly, disappearing into the bulkheads. Enrique stepped into the dark room, which tripped the sensors and activated the lighting. He looked around as the lights came on, marveling at racks of weapons: pistols, snub-nosed rifles, long-range rifles, and even some very mean-looking weapons with large bore barrels that Enrique was afraid to ask about.

“Damn,” Enrique exclaimed as he walked into the room, gazing at the racks of weapons.

“Now we’re talkin’,” Weatherly added.

Directly on their heels, Ensign Willard and the rest of the volunteers quickly started grabbing weapons.

“Everyone, listen up,” Willard announced. “Each of you take a rifle, a pistol, and a few stun grenades. And a few of you take a boomer as well.”

Enrique and Weatherly watched as the volunteers from the Yamaro’s crew raided the shelves to arm up. It was a little unnerving to watch eighteen men who had, up until a few minutes ago, been members of a captured enemy crew start taking on weapons, and for a horrifying moment, Enrique wondered if he might have made a terrible mistake.

He watched as the volunteers took their weapons, checking them to be sure they were operational with obviously practiced hands. These men knew how to use these weapons, that much he was sure of. “What are
boomers
?” Enrique asked, leaning in toward Willard.

Ensign Willard picked up one of the short, large bore weapons and held it up for Enrique and Weatherly to see. It was a little more than half a meter long and the barrel was as big around as a man’s wrist. The back of it had a rather unattractive squared box, with handles at the front and back. “This is a boomer. It’ll blow through just about anything. As the saying goes, ‘There’s no hiding from a boomer.’”

“Why is it called a boomer?” Enrique asked.

“Because everything it hits goes
boom
,” he explained.

“I’ll take one of those,” Sergeant Weatherly announced, taking the mean looking weapon from Ensign Willard’s hands with a smile on his face.

“Be warned,” Willard cautioned him, “You only get four shots, and then it is useless.”

“Better take more than one, then,” the sergeant said.

“And be careful what you shoot at with them,” Willard added. “For example, don’t shoot at an exterior wall, or you may find yourself floating in space.”

Enrique looked at the sergeant. “Ask before you shoot, okay?”

“Yes sir,” Weatherly promised.

The two men tasked with taking weapons back to the brig to arm the others stepped up to depart, loaded down with at least a dozen rifles and pistols, as well as a few boomers.

Enrique noticed the boomers. “Don’t give any boomers to Marcus or Loki. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” the volunteers promised before they departed.

The now fully armed volunteers had lined up along the armory shelves to indicate their readiness. Enrique looked them over. Each of them carried an energy rifle, an energy pistol, and several stun grenades. In addition to Sergeant Weatherly, four more of them carried a boomer as well. They were an impressive bunch. If the enemy boarding party were only one team of four, they were sure to come out on top.

“I think we’ve got them out gunned, Ensign,” Enrique announced.

“You should be aware, sir, that the entrances to the bridge are designed to be quite defensible should they come under attack by a boarding party. They will have superior positions, both in terms of cover and fields of fire.”

“Great, good to know. But they are still only four guys.”

“We hope,” Willard reminded him.

“A good friend of mine once told me that sometimes it's better not to think about something too much and to just do it,” Enrique told Ensign Willard. “I’m pretty sure she was talking about a time like this.” Enrique held out his hand, indicating that Ensign Willard should lead the way.

“Let’s move out,” Willard announced on his way out of the armory.

* * *

Getting back up into the main service tunnel had been difficult enough. The side tunnel they had escaped into was smaller, and had dropped off at a forty-five degree angle from the main tunnel, dropping nearly three meters. Vladimir had been able to push Deliza back up the incline from underneath easily enough, despite her protestations against being pushed into a space in complete darkness, even though she had already been in there twice today. However, it had been far more difficult for Vladimir, who had to try and jump up several times to grab the ledge and pull himself up the incline. It too was covered with soot, like every other surface inside the tunnels, and he had been unable to keep hold. Had it not been for Deliza’s help, he never would have made it back up into the main tunnel.

Once back in the main tunnel, it was a short distance to the nearest emergency box where they found the first flash light. They continued on for some distance, changing tunnels at least three times. They picked up a few more flashlights along the way, just in case the first ones they had located died out, as they had no idea how long they would be trapped inside the service spaces of the Aurora.

Vladimir stopped again to check on their location. He pretty much knew where they were, but they had limited time and he did not want to make a mistake and waste valuable time back tracking. Besides, it gave Deliza an occasional break from crawling.

“My knees hurt so much,” she complained.

“We are almost to the routing node,” Vladimir assured her. “From there I can connect the data pad and send commands to any system on the ship as if I were on the bridge, or at the main engineering console.”

“What are you going to do then?”

“I do not know yet, but I will think of something.” He studied the tunnel map on the data pad one more time. “Okay, another fifty meters, and then we come to the last junction on the right. Then another fifty meters and we are there.”

“Another hundred meters? Can’t I just wait here?”

“No, I cannot leave you behind,” he told her as he put the data pad back into his pocket. “Besides, I may need your help.” Vladimir put the small tubular flashlight back in his mouth so his hands would be free to crawl and started making his way down the tunnel again on his hands and knees. Deliza, on the other hand, refused to put the flashlight in her mouth, choosing instead to hold it in her right hand, despite the fact that it made it even more difficult to crawl.

“Whatever you have in mind had better work,” she told him. “Or guys with guns will be the last thing you have to worry about.”

“
Oiy, ya biyoos
,” he teased.

* * *

“Now then, on to more important issues,” de Winter began, “like how it is that you are able to travel so quickly between systems.” The captain began to move about the bridge, looking over each console as he passed. He started with the main flight console at the front of the Aurora’s bridge. He bent over slightly and looked at all the controls and display surfaces. “This must be your helm,” he said, looking at Josh’s console on the right, “which would make that one navigation, I suppose.” He looked closer at the displays and noticed that many of them were written in Angla, while others were written in a similar looking alphabet. “Odd, some of this is in Angla.”

“I’ve been translating it a little at a time,” Josh admitted, “to make it easier for me to use.”

“I wouldn’t do too much of that if I were you,” de Winter said, “or we might not need you much longer.” He continued looking over the helm and navigation stations. “This all looks pretty standard.” De Winter stood straight again. “Perhaps it’s a separate system, something apart from the standard propulsion and maneuvering systems one might expect to use on a ship such as this.” He looked around, trying to determine which station might be the one he was looking for. For the first time, he noticed the amount of damage that the bridge had suffered in recent days. “You know, you really ought to fix this place up a bit.”

De Winter moved to the sensor station to the left of the navigation console next, moving past Kaylah without a word to her. “No, not this one either,” he said after a brief inspection. He looked at the aft station next, to the left of Kaylah’s, stepping over the dead comm-officer’s body. “This is obviously just communications.”

He turned back toward the center of the bridge. “That’s tactical, and those two over there are obviously not working, so that leaves just that one,” he surmised, pointing to Abby’s console near the starboard exit. “Is that your station?” he asked Abby, who was standing next to the helm. She said nothing, but he could tell by the look in her eyes that he was on the right track. He moved closer to her, making his way across the bridge. “It is, isn’t it?” He smiled, quite happy with himself for figuring it out. “Oh my dear, you must tell me all about it. What it’s called, how it works… I want to know
everything
.”

“I’m sorry; I’m just an operator. I don’t know how it works,” Abby lied.

“Come now,” de Winter said. “I’m sure you know far more than you realize. You see, we humans pick up so much information without even thinking about it. For example, the young woman over there, she’s obviously a member of this crew, as was that poor chap over there. I know what you’re thinking; that was an easy one, what with the uniforms and all. Now this smart-mouthed young man here, he’s not a member of the crew. I can tell by his accent. He’s either from Haven or has spent considerable time there. You, on the other hand, you’re also not a member of this crew, but then again, you aren’t from this part of space either. You’re from Earth, just like the rest of them. Even though you only spoke a few words, I can tell that your accent is not of this region of space. And you’re far too delicate to be a member of the crew. You don’t have the look of someone who has endured vigorous training. You have the look of a clinician, a scientist perhaps.”

“You flatter me, sir. But I’m afraid I am merely a technical specialist, a glorified systems operator.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to show me how to operate the
system
that allows this ship to jump about from place to place as it does. That was quite a neat little trick, after all. The way you repeatedly jumped inside my shields in order to fire on us. Quite clever it was. I’ll give your captain credit for coming up with that one.” De Winter stepped closer to her, staring down at her. He was a good deal taller than Abby, who was rather petite to begin with, and dressed in his flat black assault gear, he was quite intimidating.

“I think it’s time that you returned to your station, young lady,” he said in a rather sinister tone. “We have much to discuss.”

Abby stood her ground for a moment, then looked up into his eyes, a look of defiance on her face. Her disobedience, as subtle as it might have been, was instantly met with by the back of Captain de Winter’s hand, almost knocking her over. A short, startled scream escaped her lips as a result of the blow. Josh instinctively moved as if to defend her, but the captain raised his pistol at him again without anything more than a look.

“You do not want to test me, madam,” the captain told her as he turned back to look in her eyes. “Trust me; you do not.”

After a moment, Abby looked away and moved toward her station.

A satisfied smile came across de Winter’s face. “As soon as the jamming pod is deactivated, contact the boarding team on the Yamaro and check their progress, Sergeant.”

* * *

Loki nervously kept his handgun pointed at the hatchway leading from the brig to the corridor. Before they had left, Enrique had shown him how to reload it and had given him a few extra magazines, but now it was the only defense they had should another team find them.

His eyes widened as he heard footsteps coming toward them. “Someone’s coming,” he told Marcus.

“Easy, kid,” Marcus warned. “Don’t shoot until you know who you’re shooting at.”

Loki swallowed hard, his gun held up high, his hands gripped tightly around the handle. He thumbed the safety off as the footsteps grew louder. Two men suddenly appeared from around the distant corner, each of them loaded down with multiple weapons. Loki immediately recognized them as two of the prisoners that had volunteered to help defend the ship, returning with weapons exactly as Enrique had promised.

Loki breathed a sigh of relief. “They’re back,” he announced to the others waiting in the brig, “with guns.”

The two crewmen carrying the weapons entered the brig and deposited the weapons on the table at the guard station.

“What the hell are these?” Marcus asked as he reached for one of the boomers.

“They are very destructive,” the crewman told him, taking the boomer out of his reach. “And very dangerous if you do not know how to use them correctly.”

“I think I can figure it out,” Marcus said confidently.

“I’m sorry, but we were instructed not to give them to either of you.”