Ep.#4 - "Freedom's Dawn" (The Frontiers Saga) (7 page)

“The Yamaro probably has one,” Deliza offered. She noticed the puzzled look on Vladimir’s face. “An auto-landing system, I mean.”

“How do you know this?” he asked.

“I didn’t get out much, remember?”

Vladimir smiled as he keyed his comm-set again. “Comms, contact Sergeant Weatherly. He’s guarding prisoners on the Yamaro. Tell him to see if he can find the auto-flight system and activate it so the shuttle can land there. Then someone can EVA over and fly it back to our hangar deck. If not, the shuttle will have to return to the surface until they can find a real pilot. The last thing we need now is to have the shuttle crashing on our flight deck.” Vladimir looked at Deliza again. “That should work, right?”

“Sure,” she agreed, shrugging her shoulders. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Vladimir assured her.

“Why do they keep calling you ‘Cheng’?”

“It is short for ‘Chief Engineer’.”

“Well why don’t they just call you ‘Chief’?”

“Because I am not a chief, I’m an ensign,” he explained as if it should have made perfect sense to her.

“But you just said that you
are
the chief—“

“It’s a military thing,” he interrupted as he closed the tunnel hatch and started gathering up his equipment.

* * *

“
Shuttle One, Aurora,
” the comm-officer’s voice called over Enrique’s comm-set.

“Go ahead.”

“
We don’t have an ‘auto-flight’ system, at least not yet. We’re going to see if the Yamaro has one. Can you hold position while we figure it out?
”

Enrique looked at Marcus. “Can you?”

“Sure,” he said as he started looking over the controls. “There’s gotta be a
hold
button around here somewhere.”

“Copy that, Aurora. We’ll see if we can figure out how to do that. Just hurry it up.”

“
Marcus, you stupid ape!
” Josh’s voice called over the comm-set. “
Just to the right of the AFCS status display there’s a scroll wheel. Roll it until the status display reads, ‘Hold position relative to target,’ then tap the execute button next to the wheel. That’ll hold you where you’re at for now.
”

Marcus followed Josh’s instructions, carefully and with a bit of apprehension. “Okay, we’re holding position,” Marcus said with relief. He turned to Enrique. “And tell that boy he’d better hope we
do
crash, cuz otherwise I’m gonna smack him right in his smart little mouth.”

* * *

Everything other than minimal lighting and life support had been powered down on the Yamaro. Sergeant Weatherly and crewman Raval sat in the captured ship’s detention area. Weatherly was reading a book on his data pad and Raval was trying not to fall asleep. Although life support was operating, while the ship was powered down the temperature was a bit colder than normal.

For their protection, the members of the Yamaro’s crew that had been involved in the mutiny, either directly or indirectly, had been detained separately from the rest of the crew for fear of retaliations by crewmen that had not agreed with their actions. It was these men that were being detained in the six cells of the Yamaro’s brig. The remaining two hundred and fifty crewmen were being held in two of the cargo holds off the port hangar bay until arrangements could be made to transfer them to the surface of Corinair.

“
Aurora to Weatherly,
” the comm-officer’s voice called over Sergeant Weatherly’s comm-set.

“Weatherly here. Go ahead.”

“Are they sending relief?” crewman Raval begged. He had been sitting there in the cold cell block for what seemed like days, bored out of his mind. Weatherly motioned for him to be silent so he could concentrate on the incoming message.

“A what?” Weatherly said. He looked at Raval. “You have any idea what an ‘auto-flight control system’ is?”

“Something that automatically controls something that’s flying?” Raval offered, not intending to sound sarcastic.

Weatherly looked at him. “Any idea where it might be located? They want us to turn it on.”

“I don’t even know where
we
are,” Raval admitted.

“There’s a separate one for each flight deck,” came a voice from one of the cells.

Weatherly turned in his chair to face the cell block. The voice had come from one of the cells nearest him to his left. “Who said that?”

“I did,” the voice spoke again.

Weatherly got up and went to the cell door to look inside. A man in his early twenties, in what appeared to be an officer’s uniform, slowly stood and made his way to the front of the cell. “I did.”

“Who are you?” Weatherly asked.

“Willard, Ensign Michael Willard, son of Robert Willard of Aitkenna.”

Weatherly looked the man over with a distrusting eye. “How do you know where the auto-flight control system is?”

“I’m a communications officer. Before being assigned to the bridge, I was assigned to the starboard flight control center. The system you’re looking for is located inside the controller’s office at the top of each flight deck. I can show you if you like.”

“And why should I trust you?” Weatherly asked in a challenging tone.

“I’m the one that surrendered this ship—after I put a good knot on the captain’s oversized head, that is.”

Ensign Willard’s comments brought muffled laughter from many of the cells occupants. Sergeant Weatherly noticed a look of satisfaction creeping across the ensign’s face as he obviously recalled the incident. For a moment, Weatherly wondered what the captain of the Yamaro had done to his crew to warrant such mutinous behavior. “And you’re willing to help us out?”

“Aye.”

Weatherly thought for a moment, then tapped his comm-set. “Aurora, Weatherly. Give me a few minutes; I think we might have a solution.”

The sergeant unlocked the door and pulled the prisoner out of his cell before locking it again. “Just so you know,” he told the ensign, “you try anything and I’ll put one in the back of your head.”

“Understood,” the ensign answered as he walked toward the exit.

“The flight control center is just around the next corner,” Ensign Willard said, raising his cuffed hands to point further down the corridor.

“You know, where I come from we’re more likely to shoot mutineers than give them a trial,” Sergeant Weatherly stated as they approached the corner.

“Oh, rest assured; if given the opportunity, I’m quite certain that Captain de Winter will do at least that… if I’m lucky.”

“Then why the hell did you do it?” Weatherly asked, still puzzled. “Why would you turn on your captain, your ship?”

Ensign Willard stopped short of the entrance to the flight control center. After looking down for a moment, he turned around to face his inquisitor. “Because I didn’t want to turn on my
world
,” he stated, looking directly into the sergeant’s eyes. “That’s
my
world down there. It’s where I was born. It’s where I was raised. It’s where my family still lives.”

Weatherly was slightly taken aback. As far as he knew, this man was a member of the Ta’Akar military. “If you’re from Corinair, then what are you doing on a Takaran warship?”

Willard laughed. “None of us are from Takara, at least not most of us. Only the
officers
are Takaran. The rest of us are from worlds the Ta’Akar have conquered.” Willard entered the flight control center and made his way across the small room to the main console with Weatherly following behind him. “Many young men on Takaran controlled worlds are randomly selected to serve in the imperial military, starting on their twentieth birthday.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Weatherly said. “Many of the nations on my world still require service from their citizens. Not ten years, mind you, but you usually end up getting something worthwhile out of it, like a skill or a trade at least.”

“Not so for us,” Willard told him as he began powering up the flight control console. “If we’re lucky, we’re put off on a half-decent world when our service has been fulfilled.”

“They don’t provide you transportation back home?”

“If they happen to be nearby when your time is up, then yes. However, most of us end up on the Takaran home world, or worse.”

“Is Takara such a bad place?”

“Not if you are Takaran. Foreign veterans are not exactly welcome. If you are lucky, you will find a job doing some menial task. And in about twenty years you might be able to save up enough credits to book passage home.”

Weatherly refrained from commenting further. There was no way for him to know if the ensign was telling him the truth, or leading him on for some other purpose. While he did not have the training that his friend Enrique had, he knew enough to not believe everything he heard, especially not from an enemy prisoner.

“That should do it,” Ensign Willard announced. “The AFCS should guide them in automatically now.”

Weatherly regarded the young ensign a moment longer. His gut was telling him that the man was being truthful, but it was not his place to make that determination. He would simply pass what he had learned up the chain of command, starting with his friend, Ensign Enrique Mendez of the Aurora’s spec-ops unit.

“Thanks,” he told the ensign as he reached for his comm-set. “Aurora, Weatherly. The auto-flight system is up and running.”

* * *

“
Shuttle One, Aurora.
”

“Finally,” Marcus said. “Go ahead.”

“
Shuttle One, you are directed to land on the Yamaro, port side flight deck. The auto-flight system should be operating now. Once on board, meet up with Sergeant Weatherly on the flight deck. We’ll figure out how to get the shuttle back to the Aurora later.
”

“Ah hell,” Marcus complained as he checked the AFCS display for the carrier signal from the Yamaro. “I don’t wanna be stuck on the Yamaro for God knows how long.”

“It’s better than being stuck out here,” Enrique pointed out.

“Don’t be too sure. You ever been aboard a Takaran warship? They’re kinda creepy inside,” Marcus explained as he set the auto-flight system to accept control from the Yamaro. “Then again, I guess that could be just the brig. That was the only part of the ship I ever saw.”

The shuttle began moving again, her course changing slightly toward the Yamaro’s port side.

“Well, at least they’ll probably have better food on board.”

Marcus turned, looked at Enrique, and smiled. “Good point. I don’t know about you, but I’m already sick of molo.”

* * *

“How the hell did a grunt like you figure out how to turn on a Takaran auto-flight doohickey?” Enrique joked as they walked down the shuttle’s rear boarding ramp.

“Wasn’t me, sir,” Sergeant Weatherly admitted. “It was this guy,” he added, pointing to Ensign Willard to his left. “This is Ensign Michael Willard, son of Robert of Aitkenna,” the sergeant explained, mimicking the fashion in which the ensign had introduced himself earlier.

“Aitkenna,” Marcus observed. “You’re a Corinairan?”

“Yes sir. Born and raised. My clan goes all the way back to the original colonies of the Corinairan people,” he explained with no small amount of pride.

Enrique looked at the ensign with surprise. “If you don’t mind my asking, what the hell are you doing on a Takaran ship, especially one that just tried to glass your planet?”

“I figure that’s why he led a mutiny and surrendered the ship,” Sergeant Weatherly explained.

“
He
did?” Marcus asked, looking the young ensign over. “He doesn’t look like he’s got it in him. Hell, he’s just a kid.”

“Well that
kid
apparently cold-cocked his captain and took the command staff hostage. Seems there’s more Corinairans on board as well. Apparently, the enlisted are drafted from various worlds and forced to serve.”

“Yup. That’s the way it’s been for decades. Taxes, resources, and young men to serve in their military: all the worlds conquered by the Ta’Akar have to meet their quotas in order to continue governing themselves.” Marcus chuckled once before continuing. “Give us your money, your rocks, and your fresh young lads… That’s the running joke.”

Enrique stepped closer to Ensign Willard. “So is that why you did it; to save your world?”

“Wouldn’t you?” the ensign answered.

Enrique grunted in agreement. “Damn right I would. Thanks.”

“For what?” Ensign Willard asked. “Surrendering or turning on the auto-flight system?”

“Well both, I suppose. But I do have one more question. You guys got anything to eat on this bucket? We’ve been eating nothing but dehydrated crap and molo for days now.”

“I believe I can help you there as well.”

“Then lead the way,” Enrique told him, holding out his hand to point toward the exit.

“Why would you eat molo?” the ensign asked as they headed out of the flight deck. “We won’t even feed molo to our dogs.”

Enrique cast an accusing glance back at Marcus as he exited the hangar bay.

“Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t tell your captain to buy all that disgusting fungus.”

The journey from the port side hangar bay was short, as the galley that served the crew of the Yamaro was centrally located. The first thing that Enrique had noticed was that the ship itself was much different on the inside than the Aurora. His ship had numerous pipes, conduits, and ducting running all along the walls and ceilings, leaving very little open wall space. The Yamaro’s walls and ceilings were relatively clean, with only the occasional interruption of a strategically placed interface panel or comm-console at shoulder height along the walls.

Another thing that was different was that the bottom edges of the doorways were flush with the floors. On the Aurora however—other than a few doors designed to allow rolling apparatus to pass through them—the hatchways were always twenty centimeters above the deck. The Yamaro’s hatches were automated, disappearing into the bulkheads when activated. Most of the Aurora’s hatches were of the hinged type and had to be operated manually—except of course a few of the main hatches that sealed off critical areas or passed through primary bulkheads. All of those were automated.