dethBlog

Perihelion: Chapter 2

Eleven minutes from quarters to the bridge of the Daedalus, if I don't rush – and I never do – on OOD mornings. I look forward to the drive. There's a meditative quality to it; wind in my hair, the 1G of centrifugal force pushing me out from the center of Shoemaker's rotating cylinder, the slight resistance the Humvee gives when I turn against the rotation and the way it wants to drift when I turn with it. You stop noticing it after a while. I haven't stopped noticing it yet.

Reyes is probably wrapping up the watch by now, already drafting handoff notes in that clipped, efficient shorthand of hers that always makes my own logs look like a kid's homework by comparison. In twenty minutes I'll be the one signing off on whatever fire drill of the day is waiting, trying to figure out how to unblock someone's work I have no context to understand. I check through my CBI. 1348. Time to get going.

I am getting better at this. That's what I keep telling myself, anyway.

I step outside of my barracks. The colony curves away in both directions, low rooftops arcing upward until they're overhead and then behind me, the whole residential section laid out like the inside of a drum. I've been here eight months. I still look up sometimes. The distance looks a little hazy this morning; probably just the scrubbers acting up again.

A bird is singing somewhere in the residential trees, one of the colony's zebra finches. I looked it up my first week here; couldn't stop hearing them and not knowing what they were. The colony sounds like it always sounds. Alive, contained, ordinary.

I walk over to the parking lot and climb into my HMMWV, though it feels more like something I've been entrusted with than something I own. The frame is over a century old, a classic bit of Americana converted to electric somewhere along the line, quiet enough and combustion-free to operate in the colony's closed ecosystem. It wasn't cheap having it brought out here. But if I'm going to be stationed at Jupiter L4 for four years, I want something that feels like home. I start the motor. Almost inaudible.

In the near-silence, I hear a whistling sound. It takes me a moment to place it; not the vehicle, not the colony's ventilation. I look up.

Smoke trails cut across the colony's sky.

A flash of light. The surface of the cylinder shakes beneath me. The sound of the explosions follows a half-second later, rolling and thunderous. The action stations alarm starts to blare before the smoke has cleared. I try my CBI. Nothing. An enemy Dhoruba field? I'm already moving. I need to get to my station. Sorry, Master-at-Arms, speed limit's going to have to wait.

I accelerate toward the elevator. Ahead of me, one of their mecha drops out of the sky and lands hard near the edge of the residential area. A Vanta Zenith; I recognize the missile pods on the shoulders instantly. Their strike fighter variant. It clips the Ramstein Building on the way down, one of the missile pods going dark on impact. I find myself hoping the pilot didn't walk away from that.

I hear the hull breach klaxon before I've fully stopped. I can feel the wind pulling toward the explosion sites; the colony is venting atmosphere. I pull around a corner and slam on the brakes.

Kids. Twelve of them, maybe more, streaming from the school toward the shelter. The Zenith is starting to get back up, right between them and the shelter. Came down hard. Not hard enough.

I can't leave them here.

The QRF armory should still be holding. They'll be able to protect the civilians, and it's on the way to the elevator. It should have a secure shelter. I’ll load them into the Humvee and drop them off there. A clear action plan.

I flag down the adults with the kids. Two of them: a middle-aged woman in a light blue blouse, and a younger woman. Twelve kids. Three dogs?

Tight, but they'll fit in the Humvee.

I get out of the vehicle. "Get in the truck! I'll get you to safety." I swing around to the back and open it, start loading children. The Zenith's attention is elsewhere; it's moving toward the Kellerman Building, using it for cover. We have maybe a minute before that changes.

"Backs to the walls," I tell the kids. "Hold the dogs."

The woman in the blue blouse is already helping, efficient about it. The younger woman is managing the dogs, or trying to. The dogs have opinions about the situation. Three of them, distributed among children's laps whether anyone agreed to this or not.

With everyone loaded, the teacher takes the passenger seat. The younger woman settles in just behind me.

I get us moving.

We pass through the base. People are scrambling in every direction; nobody's coordinating, nobody has a picture. I notice the SCIF as we pass… or what's left of it. Burning crater. An F&ES crew is working it but there's not much left to save. The Master-at-Arms is probably there somewhere in the chaos.

I hope the senior staff made it to the Daedalus before that strike.

I don't let myself think too hard about what it means that the SCIF is a crater.

"Where are we going, Officer...?" The teacher asks.

"Lieutenant Noah." Technically Lieutenant Junior Grade, but details. "We're going to head to the QRF armory. They'll be able to protect you."

Almost on cue, I notice in the distance that the armory was struck during the attack. "Change of plans. We can't go hunting for the QRF. That'll put you all in danger. I need to report to my station. I'm going to take you up the spoke. Do you know how to drive?"

"Y-yes, sir." She says, without filling me with confidence.

"Good. I'm going to give you my Humvee and you'll drive it down the spoke to the Hub. Once you're at the Hub, find a shelter and take cover until the attack is over."

She agrees.

I’ll probably get chewed out for bringing civilians into the pier and past the Daedalus’s drydock. But it can’t be helped now.

The road opens up as I hit the industrial section. Less foot traffic, more machinery, the specific utilitarian ugliness of the part of the colony that exists to make the rest of it work. The elevator base is ahead. I can see the checkpoint.

There are sentries still at their post. Of course there are.

I pull up to the shack, stopping in front of the retractable barriers. The sentry in the shack is halfway into an environmental suit — sensible, given the atmosphere situation. The other Master-at-Arms is already fully dressed, carbine in hand. Even with the enemy Dhoruba field active, we're close enough that our CBIs perform their wireless handshake.

"Good day, Lieutenant Noah. What is your destination on the spacefront today, Sir?"

"Good day, Petty Officer Begay. Reporting for duty at the logistics detachment at the Hughes barge." The Daedalus is need-to-know. The Hughes barge is boring enough that nobody questions the code name.

"Lieutenant," he gives me a professional but questioning look, "what is your purpose for bringing these visitors onto the spacefront today, Sir?"

"I'm evacuating these civilians with my personal vehicle. They'll drive it down the spoke and find a shelter in the Hub."

He glances back at the other sentry, then back to me. "I'm going to need to call this in, Sir."

I pause. Take a breath. I'm about to get myself in a lot of trouble.

"Petty Officer, with the active Dhoruba field all wireless communication beyond line-of-sight is blocked, and we are under attack. As the On-Scene Commander, I am taking full legal and operational responsibility for these personnel. Open the gate and maintain rear security. We are taking the elevator up the spoke."

My vision goes a little dark. I feel lightheaded. When it clears the barrier is down and the Petty Officer is saluting me.

I drive forward.

I should have probably saluted back.

Luckily one of the elevator carts is waiting for us. They're large and designed to transport heavy industrial equipment between the surface of the colony and the spoke. It's a long 5 minute ride, and we'll be sitting ducks, but my hope is that the enemy has no interest in attacking the elevator or else they might be stranded on the surface of the colony. It's honestly not the wisest decision, but the spoke is where my station is and once I get the civilians out of the pier, it connects to the public area of the spoke where they'll be free to travel to the Hub to find a life support shelter.

I pull into the elevator cart, engage the parking brake, and activate the magnetic tires. The Humvee settles with a soft clunk, locked to the platform. I get out and head for the controls.

I look back at the base. The haze is thicker now. I remember: one of the Dhoruba field's known side effects is visible light interference, on top of the comms jamming. Maybe if I'd noticed sooner I could have warned someone.

I press the controls. The cart's outer door grinds shut. I climb back into the Humvee to wait out our five-minute ride to the spoke.

"Is everyone okay?" I ask, once the door seals behind us.

"My butt hurts." "This dog's breath smells bad." Someone complains that another kid is touching them, invading personal space like that's the day's real emergency. I’m a bit more concerned about the quiet ones, but my read: they're fine.

"Miss, what's your name?" I turn to the teacher.

"Miss Santos. Carmela Santos."

I walk her through the plan. As we rise toward the spoke, the gravity will decrease; the Humvee has magnetic tires, added during the restoration. Everyone thought it was overkill. Turns out I was right. I show her how to toggle them, warn her about the drift when she turns into or against the cylinder's rotation. Step by step: I'll drive us to the spoke checkpoint, authorize her CBI for the Humvee, and she'll take it toward the Hub to find shelter. I'll report for duty and find her after. We swap CBI comm codes so we can meet up later.

A few of the kids are laughing, the floaty-stomach feeling turning the descent into a game. A couple look pale. The dogs don't like it at all; paws scrabbling for a grip that isn't quite there.

The elevator door opens, and I sweep my arm over to look through the rear window. Much to my horror, I see combat up there too. Two mecha, fighting. The Veltro; Captain de la Rosa must have made it out of the SCIF. Captain Quispe might already be on the bridge; I'll report to my post as First Lieutenant. But I cannot in good conscience take civilians across an active battlefield. I'll have to take them to the Daedalus instead. Captain Quispe will understand.

"Change of plan. I'm taking you to the…" I catch myself. Can't say Daedalus. "...to the Hughes barge with me. I'll find you somewhere to shelter, then report for duty."

I pull out and head toward the drydock.

The main doors to the drydock hangar hang open. Forced open. I pray I don't need to change plans again.

Getting closer, I see them, enemy marines, trying to force their way into the mecha bay with a large industrial cutting laser. Hopefully all their attention is focused there.

Alright. One more change. We're going through one of the hangar's side doors instead.

I drive around the hangar and park the Humvee. I switch on my magnetic boots.

"Wait here a moment." I order the civilians as I step out of the truck.

I walk to the side door, connect to the keypad through my CBI. It recognizes me; I authorize the unlock. A quick look inside; empty. We can cut through here, reach the stern, and come up through the engine room without going anywhere near the breach.

I return to the Humvee and pop the hood with a CBI command. There's an extension cord inside; makeshift rope. I close the hood and head around to the passenger side.

"Miss Santos. We're in microgravity out here. I need you to hold this cable, so you and the kids don't float off. I'll walk you to the ship. From there, head to the galley and hide until this is over."

We gather the children. I was planning on leaving the dogs behind. Miss Martin, the other teacher, protested. I didn't have time to argue, so we tie the dogs' collars to the cable too, kids holding on to the cable, the dogs, or each other. The number of things that could go wrong here is absurd; chief among them, kids drifting loose into the hangar. But we need to move. Fast.

I approach the edge of the dock chamber with cable in hand and a tangle of children behind me. I just need to break the magnetic seal of my shoes, kick off the side of the chamber, float a dozen meters, and make sure my shoes make contact with the hull so we don't float away. No pressure.

I kick off and rotate myself to be feet first. I overshoot it, spin a bit too much. But one foot lands on the hull and makes a magnetic connection. Unfortunately for Newton's laws of motion, the children, dogs, and teachers slam into me. Luckily, I get both feet secure and no one floats off. The dogs don't appear to be having a good time, but at least aren't causing any trouble considering how many people are hitting each other.

I walk up the hull toward one of the airlocks. My CBI connects to the door's receiver. I'm hoping Reyes won't mind that I'm a bit early and not using the Quarterdeck, all things considered.

‘This is Lieutenant Noah.’ I message wirelessly, without saying a thing. ‘I'm at Airlock 1-32-2. I have 14 civilians and 3 dogs.’

A pause that feels like an eternity.

‘Repeat, Lieutenant Noah. Did you say you have 14 civilians and dogs with you?’ The response comes back with a bit of static, but understandable inside my CBI.

‘Roger that.’

Another pause. I swear to God, Reyes, if you don't let me in…

The airlock opens. A wave of relief washes over me. I help the civilians in first. There's just enough room for us all to fit. I squeeze in last. Once the exterior door closes there's a bit more room as we wait for the interior door to open.

The dog's breath does smell bad. And I'm also empathizing more with the kid who wanted personal space. The wait in the airlock feels like it takes forever. The interior door finally releases.

We navigate down the hall to the galley. The central ring section is already starting to spin. It'll give us about 0.3G, which should help calm the kids and dogs. I help them through the hatch one at a time.

"Okay, stay here. I need to report to the bridge for duty. Don't wander about the ship. There are a lot of very dangerous places and equipment here." I say, preparing to climb up to the center deck in the middle of the ring to take that to the bridge. The teachers seem to agree.

I really hope they don't get themselves into trouble. I may have made a huge mistake bringing them here.

I navigate through the corridors and reach the bridge. It's a sparse room, backup monitors built into the walls, but for the most part everyone does their work through CBIs plugged into their stations.

"Lieutenant Noah, reporting for duty." I notice it's a skeleton crew up here. "Senior officer on deck?"

Matelot Tanaka stands at attention from the captain's chair. "You're the ranking officer, Sir."

My stomach violently clenches. Without gravity to pull the blood away, the sudden adrenaline spike just makes my pulse hammer behind my eyes. A wave of zero-G vertigo hits me, the bridge threatening to spin. This morning the worst I had to worry about was whether my watch notes would read as squared-away as Reyes's. Now there's no one above me to hand this off to.

"This is LTJG Noah. I have the watch. Matelot, return to your station."

"Sir, yes, Sir." She says, and returns to her Defensive Systems Operator station.

"Status report. Where is Lieutenant Reyes?" I bark, sliding into the captain's chair, plugging my CBI into the seat, and strapping myself in.

"Multiple enemies attempting to breach the mecha bay.” Tanaka says. “Mechanics are supercooling the doors with liquid nitrogen to slow them down. The Veltro is currently in combat with a Compact mecha. Lieutenant Reyes is down. She was caught in enemy fire while inspecting the exterior of the ship."

Reyes. The handoff notes I was going to read.

"The Petty Officer of the Watch?"

"Petty Officer Smith went down securing the gangway port."

"The Messenger of the Watch?"

"Matelot Singh is currently getting us launch authorization. I believe he's in the ready room."

"Who ordered the launch?"

"I did, Sir." Matelot Tanaka answers.

"Good call, Matelot. Get Singh in here. I need a status report on how the launch is coming along. Do we have anyone manning the defensive turrets?" I check the current registry. Forty-five members on board. Forty-six with me. Sixty, counting the civilians. Plus three dogs.

This ship needs a hundred and fifty to operate. These numbers are not encouraging.

“We have clearance.” Singh enters from the ready room. “The docking clamps should be releasing soon.”

"Engine status?"

"Fusion's at a hundred percent.” Matelot Lin reports from the engineering station. “Dhoruba field's up, focusing array's green across the board."

“Any concerns?” I address the crew, knowing they know their statuses better than I do.

“There are still umbilical lines connected to the drydock.” Matelot MacCarthy informs me.