Between a Rock and a Hard Vacuum
Copyright 1997, Douglas Warren
The Saladin class fast trader, Monarch, smoothly matched the space station’s gentle rotation, contacting the docking collar with a muffled thump. The ship wasn’t much to look at, its squat, boxy shape reminding one more of an antique fire plug rather than her regal namesake. But, that didn’t keep her from performing like a lady. In the depths of space, functionality always triumphed over aesthetic concerns. The Saladin class was originally designed to ferry important documents and supplies between far flung outposts and the model had fulfilled its mission, but with the newer, larger ships being produced, the Saladin were inexorably being retired to the scrapheap or to small backwater worlds hungry for interstellar transports. The Monarch was one such ship, lucky enough to still be in one piece and not recycled into a cheap vid player.
The Monarch’s crew was a motley lot made up of one Earther, three colonial humans and one non-indig. Beth Windsor, the captain and owner, had gotten the Monarch in an auction about seven years ago. The ship's previous owner was now serving a twenty year sentence for smuggling unlicensed livestock out of a quarantined world. The Stellar Enforcement Agency seized his ship and all its contents when he landed on Dupree to refuel. The entire operation was a trap set up to discourage the booming trade in dangerous, exotic pets. The poor sucker didn’t even realize he had been caught. In fact, he had tried to unload part of his cargo on an undercover officer just before his arrest.
The ship’s first mate, Uri Bundakoff, was from the colonial world of Dupree and had been looking for a way off planet when he met Beth. She was looking for warm bodies to help her fly the newly renamed Monarch back to Earth. After several voyages, she had been impressed with his performance and decided to offer him a permanent berth as first mate. Uri jumped at the offer. It was a dream come true for the starry eyed colonial. Over the last seven years he had developed into a competent mate with an uncanny knack for out guessing the next move of a pursuer, using it several time to save the Monarch. The other two humans had signed on earlier in the year after Beth was forced to turn over some other crewmen to the Sector Militia to avoid being held in connection with a murder in which the crewmen were suspected.
Olaf Freda and Ganry Handstaad were colonials from the planet Yggdrasill, settled by various groups from the burgeoning Scandinavian protectorate. Beth had hired them as strongbacks but the affable fellows had truly become part of the small crew. At first they kept to themselves but eventually lost their Nordic aloofness. They usually worked as a team, with Ganry calling most of the shots. Olaf seemed content to let the older man make most of the decisions for the pair.
The only non-human crew member was Fyxtic. The creature’s gender was uncertain but its skills as a navigator were inarguable. Fyxtic was vaguely humanoid with skin the texture of pebbled rubber. It didn’t wear any clothes except for a complicated shoulder harness bedecked with tools and decorative tokens. Its eyes were its most striking feature, milky oval pools situated over a slit of a mouth in an otherwise featureless skull. Fyxtic’s method of gaining sustenance was as startling as its appearance. Each day it would sequester itself in the airlock and flush out all of the air. After about twenty minutes Fyxtic would emerge unharmed and in high spirits, seemingly deriving energy from the vacuum. None of the other crewmen understood how Fyxtic did it, they just accepted it. Each member played an important part in the operation of the Monarch, contributing to the camaraderie and loyalty among the small group of spacers. They each contributed equally to the ship's relative success in a difficult business.
In anticipation of off-loading their cargo, Ganry and Olaf busied themselves with straightening up the hold as they waited for the airlock to cycle open. The majority of the hold was filled with cases of processed food supplements and basic medical supplies, with the rest taken up by various odds and ends ordered by the inhabitants of the station. Their computer banks also contained the weekly message pack. Without faster than light communications, independent stations were forced to depend on batched communications carried by supply ships like the Monarch. She had been making this particular supply run once every three months for the last three Sol-years. It didn’t pay as much as the captain would have liked , but it was steady work, something to be thankful for.
Most of the Monarch’s other jobs were one shot runs that weren’t necessarily above board. Beth was impatient, willing to take chances in order to make the big score. Until now, skill and luck had managed to keep the ship and its crew out of serious trouble, but the chances Beth was taking were getting riskier than the rest of the crew liked. Uri pleaded with his captain to stay away from the more dangerous jobs for all of their sake. All things considered, money was a poor reward compared to the freedom that came with being a merchant trader. That freedom motivated most spacers to leave their homes and families, embarking on a life filled with uncertainty and adventure. It was a trade many were willing to make. All of the Monarch's crew had made the trade.
The crew heard the rhythmic cycling of the outer airlock but the usual hissing of the opening outer door was conspicuously absent.
"What the hell is wrong with this thing," Ganry banged on the inner door in frustration. "Beth we’ve got a malfunction down here. It may take a while to fix."
"What is the trouble? Anything serious?"
"Not unless you want to stay in here for the next couple of years. The damn outer lock is jammed."
"Ok," Beth sighed, "I’ll tell the station to hold on until we can fix it. You and Olaf suit up before you go into the airlock. I don’t want to have to scrub you sorry asses off of the bulkhead in there."
Ganry smiled at Beth’s concern. She might make jokes about losing one of the crewmen, but over time she had formed a bond with her crew that was very personal. "Gotcha boss, me and Olaf are on it." He closed the comlink and retrieved a couple of environmental suits and a bulky tool box from a storage locker in the cargo hold. With a sigh the two crewmen began the task of suiting up to work in the airlock.
Beth flicked the comlink off internal transmission to speak with the station traffic controller. "Pinnacle Station we have a little malfunction. Your supplies will be delayed, sorry."
"Malfunction," Beth didn’t recognize the controllers tense voice, "what is the nature of the problem."
"Relax Pinnacle, its just a stuck hatch," she tried to placate the worried controller, "no sweat, probably just a couple of minutes."
The controllers voice was now frantic, "hurry it up Monarch, those supplies are vital."
"It's just the usual load of chow and a couple cases of basic med stuff," she was puzzled by the controller’s tone of voice, "who is this anyway?"
"I am a rookie, first day."
"Say no more, everybody is nervous the first day. Is Terry there with you?"
The controller hesitated for a moment and then answered, "no, she isn’t here today. She is locked in her quarters with her boyfriend." Boyfriend, Beth was startled. Terry didn’t have a boyfriend. He didn’t even have a steady girlfriend. Terry once had a reputation for being one of the wildest spacers around until he settled down to supervise Pinnacle Station’s traffic control, but his word was his life. He lived up to his reputation in more ways than one, Beth knew for certain. In fact, she had looked forward to this run for some time, hoping to continue her relationship with Terry were it left off after her last visit. Either this guy she was talking to was mistaken or something was up. Beth decided to find out which.
"Locked in her quarters, ha. How she can do that and still have enough energy to run traffic control I’ll never know."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Terry is a real firebrand, a complete animal." Something was definitely wrong. Everybody on Pinnacle knew Terry Jessop. Whoever was pretending to be a controller was either new on the station or was trying to tell Beth something without being blatant, knowing that she would know Terry. Either way, Beth wasn’t taking any chances. One thing that dabbling in smuggling had taught her was to put as much distance as possible between yourself and a rotten deal and this deal smelled like a clogged septic coupler.
"Hold on a sec control, I’m getting an update from the crew." Beth killed the link and activated the internal speaker, "Listen up guys, something is going on and I don’t like it. Forget about the hatch and get back in here. We’re going to cast off and scoot. If everything checks out later we can apologize, but none of this cargo is essential." She then flipped back to the control frequency while opening the comlink to the internal speakers so her crew could hear what was happening. Beth hailed the station, mustering all of her considerable acting ability, "attention Pinnacle Station Control, I have a Protocol One emergency. I repeat, we have a Protocol One emergency. Our main power systems are malfunctioning. My engineer is losing control of the engine stabilization circuits. I am initiating an emergency decoupling."
Pinnacle Control responded, but it was a different voice, "fast trader Monarch, negative on the emergency decoupling. We can send in an response team with a portable stabilization field generator. I repeat, do not uncouple we can respond to the emergency."
"Negative Pinnacle Station, there isn’t time. If I can get Monarch far enough away before the field decays, the station will be safe. It’s my decision under Emergency Protocol One."
"Do not uncouple Monarch," the controller’s voice was rising in pitch. "Our response team is already waiting at you outer door. We have accessed the override on you outer airlock, prepare to receive the response team now." With the controllers words Monarch’s outer hatch began swinging open. It stuck again after a second and gloved hands appeared from the other side, attempting to force it the rest of the way. Ganry and Olaf looked on in disbelief as the response team forced open the hatch. The team was dressed in body armor and carried compact rifles. Everything about them screamed "professional soldier".
"Captain," Ganry screamed into his environmental suit’s mic, "we’re being boarded and they mean business. Go ahead and blow the links. We’re suited and tethered." On the bridge Beth hand slammed down on the docking button. The hooks attaching Monarch to pinnacle Station retracted, letting the ship slowly drift away. Inside the airlock the scene wasn’t as picturesque. As Monarch uncoupled from the station, air rushed from the open locks of the ship and the station. Olaf and Ganry were pulled toward the hatch by the escaping air but their tethers stopped then short. The Pinnacle response team, however, was not as fortunate. Their bodies shot out into space. Helpless and with no way to get back, they could only count the minutes as their air ran out while they floated further away from the space station.
As soon as the Monarch was far enough away from the station Beth powered up all the engines, angling the craft away as quickly as possible. The craft leapt away from Pinnacle as the thrust increased. One small patrol craft appeared , trying to intercept the Monarch, but it soon fell far behind as the fleet trader pulled away. As soon as the Monarch was at a safe distance Beth called her crew.
"Is everybody aces?" One by one, the crewmen reported in. Everyone was safely aboard the ship. Ganry and Olaf were able to wrestle the outer hatch closed with the manual control system, as the Monarch made her escape. "Everyone get to the bridge. I want you all strapped in if they try to go after us with anything bigger." Soon the entire crew was situated in their places on the bridge, Fyxtic at navigation, Uri at the helm, and Ganry and Olaf manning the weapons controls. There was an uneasy silence while Beth decided what to do next. Finally, the silence became to much for Uri.
"What the hell happened back there, Beth," he snapped. She turned to face him and for the first time Uri saw fear in her eyes.
"How the frig should I know? You guys heard almost as much as I did." "So what did they say to you before you switched on the speakers."
"Nothing really, except that is was somebody else, not the person you heard talking."
"Who were you talking to at first," Olaf broke in.
"I really don’t know, but they sounded wrong, not the usual chatter, strictly business," she though for a moment. "Oh, and they didn’t seem to know who Terry was. Either that or they were trying to warn us off by playing stupid."
"Maybe somebody had a gun on them or something," Olaf added.
"It would make sense, those troopers must have been waiting for us to open the door. They were probably going to slaughter us. Why else would they have an armed boarding party on station to meet us."
"But why would anybody on Pinnacle do that, we’re strictly small time, almost not worth the bother."
Fyxtic spoke for the first time since the incident, breaking his/her customary silence, "I think you are all overlooking the obvious. It may be someone on Pinnacle, but not of Pinnacle."
"Hijackers," Beth sucked in a breath.
"That is my conclusion," Fyxtic responded and then became silent once again.
Uri was skeptical, "Pinnacle Station? What kind of target is that, they barely make it as it is. A gold mine it isn’t."
"But it does get regular traffic, situated this close to the stellar routes."
"Right, Ganry," Beth said, "The ships that stop here might not drop off a lot of cargo, but their holds are pretty full for the next couple of stops, which are Pankot, and Foucault."
Uri couldn’t believe his ears. Nobody had ever tired such a bold move against a major stellar route. "My god, If they intercept a half dozen shipments they would be set for life, whoever they are."
"That’s not all Uri, if they cut off supplies to Pankot long enough all of the people could die. Foucault isn’t in near as much danger because the have an established port planetside. If worse came to worse they could evacuate to the surface and rough it until help arrives. Pankot station doesn’t have that choice. All they can do is sit there and rot without regular supplies."
"So, what are we going to do about it," concern showed in Uri’s voice.
"What can we do about it? These people are obviously organized and ready to do whatever is necessary to hide their little scam, including fragging a handful of nosy spacers." Everyone looked at Ganry. He was voicing the same concerns that each crew member was having. They all knew that they had to do something, but the distance between knowledge and action was as wide as the galaxy.
Beth tried to get a handle on the situation, "ok, what are our options?"
"We can high tail it back to the Edo system and sic the sector militia on them," Olaf said.
"Nope," Uri answered. "By the time we got to Edo and the militia knocked out the marauders the folks on Pankot would be dead. You just can’t launch a operation like that on the spur of the moment. It takes time to plan and approve. No, we would be better off contacting the merchant forces on Dunrey. I mean, isn’t it their job to handle situations like this?"
Ganry snorted in disgust, "do you really think the merchant commander would agree to risk his men and his command for a hole in space like Pinnacle station? I don’t think so, or did you forget that the Merchant Navy charges for its services. I doubt that pinnacle station and everything in it would be enough to cover the cost. If the hijackers had taken Pankot or Foucault it would be another matter. Those stations have enough clout and terrestrial support to ante up when it comes time to pay the bill. If we went to Dunrey the only thing the cash corps would do is send an armored freighter to Pankot and Foucault with emergency supplies. Then they would arrange for an alternative supply route and cut Pinnacle out of the loop. It’s the only thing that makes any sense when you look at the big picture. Eventually the hijackers would realize they were pinched and abandon Pinnacle."
"What about the people on Pinnacle," Uri couldn’t believe his ears, "what happens to them."
"Death, if they are lucky, Slavery if they aren’t.
"No, we can’t let that happen. If we do we are no better than those privateers who are holding them prisoner."
"We don’t even know if any of them are still alive, Uri, the marauders might have thrown them all out the airlock after they took over the station."
Beth interrupted Ganry, "I don’t think so, whoever was running traffic control tried to warn us off. I am convinced of that."
"How can you be sure?"
"I just feel it, if it had been one of the others, they would have played it cooler. From the minute he started talking I could tell he was shaken up. It showed in his voice and a pro probably wouldn’t have had that problem. Most likely, that means it’s probably a small group that can’t operate the station without the crew, which means they must have some means of controlling them."
"Like an armed explosive with a deadman’s switch," Uri suggested.
"Or it could be a hostage. If they captured Bonnie Craig and were holding her the other people on Pinnacle would do anything the hijackers told them to. Bonnie build that place from nothing and took in a lot of space trash. Those people owe her a lot and are very loyal. She is as hard as nails, but they still love her."
"Bonnie is the most likely candidate, if it went down that way, but we can’t be sure. But, Uri could be right about the bomb. A good sized charge could tear a hole in the hull large enough to rip the station apart. All the hijackers would have to do was find a vulnerable spot that is easy to guard and set up a couple of sentries who have to input a code every so often or the charge goes off. Then, you send another person to present your demands to Bonnie and, bang, there you have it, an irreffusable offer."
"Unless you want to take a dip in the Milky Way, unsuited, and it would only take three people to pull it off."
"There’s more than three involved, at least five."
"Why do you say that?"
"Ok, over a period of one Sol Day it takes you and Olaf and Uri to run this ship while Fyxtic and I pilot it. They had to get here somehow. That means it would take a minimum of two people to cover sentry duty for the entire day, plus the one who is running the whole thing and don’t forget the patrol craft that chased us. That makes it at least two more marauders, bringing the minimum total to five."
"Don’t forget the two we blew out of the airlock. I doubt they were the sentries."
"Okay, so where does that leave us? It is five of us against at least five marauders. The only thing we know for sure is that are less than it takes to run Pinnacle."
"If control was trying to warn you off then I would bet that the number of marauder’s is pretty low. Otherwise, how did they get on Pinnacle without attracting attention. You can’t just knock on the hull and threaten to blow the house down."
"That’s true. Bonnie is to careful to let a large group of unknown spacers into the station."
"If they tried to storm the bridge the command crew could just seal their hatches and isolate the sections with the marauders in them. The only thing that really matters is that they did get in and are in control of Pinnacle, any suggestions?"
"The only plan I can come up with is to get out of sensor range and come back toward the station from a completely different vector. If we change our transponder code they will never know it’s the same ship that just slipped away."
"Uri had better handle any voice communication with the station. We don’t want them to recognize your voice. The only question remaining is what do we do when we get there? The are going to be on the hyper side as it is and an unscheduled arrival is bound to stir them up even more."
"I think we can use that to our advantage. If my hunch is right the two gorillas that we blew out of the airlock were their real muscle. They are probably going to have to come up with another way of commandeering our ship now that they are short two people, like using the rest of heir hired muscle. Making them change their plans quickly might just cause them to make a mistake. Hopefully that will give Bonnie’s people the chance to make their move."
"This is risky but I am willing to give it a try. How about you," as Ganry looked at the others each nodded in agreement. "Then it’s decided, it might just be crazy enough to work."
After working out all of the details each crewmen returned to their station and prepared for the impending action. Ganry and Olaf broke out several pistols and one mean looking beamer and checked their readiness. Uri returned to the bridge with Beth and tried to think of what he was going to say to traffic control when the time came and Fyxtic just returned to his quarters in silence. Beth brought the ship around after the Monarch had passed out of Pinnacle’s sensor range. She punched the thrusters up to maximum and started a gentle, banking turn with pinnacle as the axis. As the arc increased, the tension mounted among Monarch’s crew. Uri and Beth didn’t mind risking their necks for the people on the space station. To Uri it was a moral imperative. The big man’s culture preached unforgiving altruism. No matter what the cost, right was right and wrong was unacceptable. Uri would feel as guilty as the hijackers if he walked away from the situation without trying to free the trapped spacers. This philosophy was considered obsolete by many in the live hard, die young world of merchant traders but Uri didn’t let it bother him.
Ganry, on the opposite side of the spectrum, believed that every person was responsible for their own fate. If Pinnacle had been taken over it was their own fault. Maybe if they had been a shade more vigilant or careful the privateers would not have been able to take over the station. It was their mess and they should clean it up by themselves. However, when it came to the safety of the Monarch’s crew, Ganry was torn. He shared a bond with these people that he had never experienced during his childhood on Yggdrasill and if they were determined to get their heads blown off trying to save some half-wit orbital trash, Ganry was bound to go down in flames with his comrades, like it or not.
Olaf shared Ganry’s Nordic Utilitarianism, but felt as obligated to do his best to prevent the rest of the crew from being harmed. Maybe an extra gun would make the difference between success and failure in the brewing battle. What else could he do? It wasn’t as if Beth could drop him off at the nearest Transport station. They were in the middle of a particularly empty sector of space. With the exception of Pinnacle Station, there wasn’t anything between here and Pankot except for a few backward systems barely able to support the space tramps that had made their homes there. Death would be preferable to eking out a living through piracy and crime.
Beth was a complete contrast. The thought of rescuing Pinnacle from the pirates ignited romantic images of epic battles and untold glory in her mind. She was always looking for that extra kick in life, that danger-high that came with risking your neck against unbelievable odds. Whether it was picking a fight in a lowlife tavern on the moons of San Giermo or running the gauntlet of the asteroid belt in the Terran system, it did not matter. The feeling was always the same, excitement mixed with sheer terror followed by a cathartic release of emotion. Beth was quickly becoming an addict and the rest of the crew could only watch as the need for newer and more dangerous experiences consumed her. The only crew member who didn’t have a reason to risk everything to free Pinnacle was Fyxtic. The enigmatic alien only seemed to be an uninvolved observer, uninterested and only along for the ride. But, who could say what Fyxtic was thinking. Its motivations could be as alien as its physiology.
Each pondered their own individual concerns as the ship completed its wide arc. As the Monarch approached the specified vector, Beth fired the reverse thrusters, slowing the ship to a near stop. The ship swung into line with the distance station. The crew could see Pinnacle in their view screens, drifting in space overshadowed by its dark celestrial partner. Pinnacle was situated near a large asteroid that shepherded the station around the sun, its mass protecting the station from the majority of the sun's harsh radiation. The inhabitants of Pinnacle had a name for the barren rock. They simply called it Big Brother. It reassured the inhabitants when they gazed out of the station's ports and saw the solid bulk of Big Brother. It was almost as if they had a planet of their own. Although the asteroid was devoid of any atmosphere, in the early days it had yielded it mineral resources to the people of Pinnacle. It was always cheaper for a new station to mine the indigenous materials rather than ship processed goods. The cost of conveying the cargo was usually more than the cost of the materials themselves. This scenario had played itself out throughout the history of humanity.
Some people were never satisfied with their place in the universe and, as a result, felt the urge to explore new frontiers. The feeling that life would be better just over the next hill drove them like a herd of migrating bison. Humanity had always turned outward to the future and its promise instead of looking inward and learning from the mistakes of the past. From the time of the great Terran Explorations, which in modern terms seem minuscule, wealthy patrons financed men with the passion for discovery. These bold adventures blazed new trails into unknown territory, claiming it for their own nations or whoever had payed for the voyage. The presence of native civilizations did nothing to quench the explorers' thirst for new territory. Usually to their own detriment, the indigenous cultures often welcomed the visitors or worshiped them as deities. They freely gave of their culture and hospitality, usually receiving only death or disease in return.
The history of extraterrestrial humanity wasn't much prettier. In fact, when encountering non-human sentients, humans seemed to have found it easier to destroy them due to their alien nature. After all, they were not even human. Some races fared better than others, either they were strong enough to defend themselves against human encroachment or they just did not have anything the spreading humans wanted.
One of the worst offenders when it came to atrocities against native, alien populations were the so-called Faith Colonies. These were usually made up of zealously fundamental religious sects. To the pilgrims, as they called themselves, the indigs represented a pool of new converts who would embrace their religion or suffer for forsaking it. The pilgrims were adamant on this point. Entire races were wiped out in the early days of the religious migrations. The authorities eventually did put into place certain safeguards against this kind of action but no system is perfect.
Before any group was allowed to settle a newly discovered planet, the Colonial Survey Corps reconnoitered the system in question. If indigenous, sentient life was discovered, the prospective colonists were forced to meet with and gain approval from the native inhabitants. If a compromise could not be reached, the colonists were shuffled off to the next available planet. One particularly orthodox group of Odinists endured the process six times. Finally they grew so desperate to start their new lives, they agreed to settle on a marginally habitable world they named Midgard. The leader of the group responded to the offer by saying, "Midgard shall be the anvil upon which we are tested by the All-Father." The thing that stood out about the colonists was their ability to persevere and adapt to any situation forced upon them by fate. That seemed to lay at the core of Humanity's ability to prosper in almost any environment, the ability to adapt to any situation. That was just what the crew of the Monarch was engaged in. Circumstance had played a cruel and unexpected trick on them, but they refused to slink away into space. Instead, they mad the choice to attack their situation head-on and wrestle a victory out of it. Such is humanity's nature.
"Is everyone ready?" Beth gave the crew one last chance to back out, but she had faith that they wouldn't. This was by far the worst scrape they had ever found themselves in and it would have been easy to just cut their losses and fly as fast as they could to the nearest bureaucrat. They decided not to take the easy way out. Each had friends on Pinnacle station, friends too good to desert during a crisis. The decision had been made and the course of action was agreed upon. Either the Monarch would free Pinnacle Station or be destroyed in the attempt.
All of the crewmen signaled their readiness, giving Beth the go ahead to begin the run back to Pinnacle Station. "Here we go folks, express elevator to Hell."
"I know I've heard that somewhere before."
"Just forget it."
The ship lurched forward, pressing them into their seats. Beth held back some power to the thrusters to simulate the lumbering approach of a large freighter. The marauders would be less likely to fire upon a larger freighter, not wanting to destroy any of the valuable cargo they carried. Nearing Pinnacle's sensor range, Beth flicked on the ships long range sensor array. She did not want the station's patrol craft to sneak up on Monarch and get a good visual ID. That would blow the cover of the fake transponder code. The code flagged the ship as a medium freighter specializing in bulk items. The type of items that are very, very untraceable. By the time Monarch was close enough to dock the hijackers would be licking their lips in anticipation of an easy kill and a sweet payoff. The surprise would come when they opened the Monarch's airlock. Everything had been planned to the last detail.
Pinnacle Control hailed the ship when they were 20km from the station. "Osaka class Medium Freighter, Trojan hold your position and wait for docking approach clearance." Beth recognized the voice as the one who had tried to keep her occupied while the boarding party had done their work. She motioned for Uri to answer the controller this time.
"Pinnacle Control, I am stabilizing position and awaiting instructions."
"Trojan, you are an unscheduled flight. Clearance may take a few minutes. We have to run it by the Duty officer."
"I hope it's not to long, I have a glitch in one of my oxy refrig units and we are having trouble keeping the stuff liquid. We are stuffed to the gills. Our units can handle a decreased load, if not we might have to jettison some to avoid a flash fire. We can off-load some of it and bill it to the stations account, real cheap." Uri knew the hijackers must be thanking their lucky stars right about now. Nothing had more practical value to people like this than pure oxygen. Everybody needed oxygen to survive in space. You could produce fuel and other things by scooping gas clouds, but you had to buy air. That meant the people who had it could charge whatever they wanted to. It was definitely a sellers market.
Pinnacle's response came quickly, "you have docking clearance on collar M-7."
"I am starting approach and initiating computer rotation control," Uri answered as Beth thumbed the controls and motioned for him to kill the voice link.
"Good work," she smiled at the first mate, "they are not going to do anything to spook us before they have the oxygen in their hands. By the way, that was a nice touch. It was starting to get me excited."
Adding more power to ships’s thrusters, Beth prodded them toward the waiting station. The tension heightened geometrically as they closed the gap. Ganry and Olaf rushed from their places on the bridge, heading directly to the cargo hold. After donning their environmental suits the two broke open several of the containers. They dragged them into the airlock and loosely replaced the lids. They resealed the pressure door and stepped back to catch their breath.
"Should we go ahead and pump it up now?" Olaf asked Ganry.
"Why not," an evil grin was plastered on the spacer’s angular face. "There is no time like the present. If this doesn’t work the first time I don’t want to have to clean up the mess." Nodding, Olaf adjusted the airlock’s manual pressure control, ignoring the shrill warning tone coming from the panel. "That noise will not do," with that Ganry stepped past Olaf as he finished the adjustment. He pulled an autodriver from his suit’s tool pouch and quickly removed the panel. A few moments passed, allowing him to survey the tangle of wires within the bulkhead. With a grunt he yanked one out. The beeping stopped, leaving the hold strangely silent. Fyxtic appeared in the hold just as the other two crewmen were finishing their preparations.
"Have you finished readying the airlock?"
"Yep, Fizzie, all finished. Are you ready to get into the thick of it when the hammer falls?"
"You need not worry about my preparedness, Ganry. Or must I remind you that much of this plan was of my own devising. I am well aware of my abilities as well as my limitations. All has been factored into the plan."
"Me and Olaf are just glad you are on our side. You are one sneaky indig." If Fyxtic was amused it showed no sign of it. The alien just took a place near the secondary escape lock and waited silently. On the bridge Uri and Beth waited impatiently for the distance between Monarch and the station to diminish. The clock ticked down, more slowly than they would have liked, but a burst of speed now would be out of character for a clumsy freighter. Patience and timing were essential in order for the plan to work. One mistake and the marauders would slam down their defenses before Monarch had a chance to spring its trap. Finally, the ship was within docking range of Pinnacle Station. The computer matched the ship’s rotation to the assigned lock, gently easing onto the docking collar. All of the crew members took a deep breath, hoping all would go as planned. The docking collar engaged the ship’s grapples with a muffled thump. The manual override, engaged earlier by Olaf, kept the interior of the lock from equalizing the pressure between the lock and the station’s entry portal. After waiting a few seconds Olaf acknowledged a solid lock over the ship’s intercom. Uri answered the station's incoming hail.
"Pinnacle Station, we are locked and ready to accept off-loading crews. Come aboard whenever you are ready." Uri fought to keep any sign of nervousness out of his voice.
"Affirmative, Trojan, we are prepared to accept your party." The controller was waiting for Uri to make the first move in this game.
"Our people are tied up keeping the oxy refrig units up and running. You will have to start without us."
"Ok, signaling now." The three crewmen in the cargo hold heard the stations airlock begin to open before it was drowned out by the thunderclap of the highly pressured air trapped inside the Monarch’s airlock rushing into the station’s entry portal. Air was not the only thing blown into the station by the abrupt change in pressure. The open cases of alloy ball bearings put into the airlock by the Monarch’s crew spewed out into the station like a giant shotgun firing point blank into the faces of the boarding party. Screams of pain and death rang out within the station from the waiting party. Someone had been waiting for them.
The escape of their previous prey must have spooked the marauders. Plans were probably in the works to salvage what they could from the small station and flee into the vastness of space. That salvage included the stations valuable life support equipment. After the marauders left, the station’s personnel would most likely have been forced to rely on whatever portable equipment they left behind to keep them alive. Only the unexpected arrival of the heavily loaded freighter had delayed those plans.
The sound of the explosion of air signaled Fyxtic to begin his part of the plan. Silently, it slipped into the secondary escape lock, buttoned it up and triggered the depressurization cycle. Olaf and Ganry laughed while they watched the alien glide out of the outer door toward Pinnacle. It passed out of the port's field of view, but they knew what the alien was going to do. Fyxtic planned on making his way to the emergency airlock located on the hull of the station's bridge. The marauders would not expect an attack to come from their own escape route. The station's sensors would normally detect anyone making their way along the hull because of the mass detectors located at various points along the hull, however, those detectors keyed on materials such as alloy steel and polymers, the primary elements found in environmental suits and remote drones. The stations sensors would ignore Fyxtic's biological components as harmless. After all, very few living organisms could survive in the vacuum of space, 99 percent of which were harmless. Fyxtic just happened to be part of that unpredictable one percent.
It carefully pulled it’s lithe form along the hull until it reached the emergency airlock door that led to Pinnacle’s bridge. After retrieving a magnetic clamp from its harness, Fyxtic tethered himself and waited for Ganry’s signal to make its presence known. While the alien bided his time, Ganry and Olaf waded into the thick of the situation.
After opening the inner door, the two crewmen bounded through the open lock in full environmental gear. The pressure suits were unnecessary because the station’s walls had withstood the trap’s powerful blast. The waiting marauders, however, were not as fortunate. Several bodies lay strew across the floor of the entry portal. They were so badly mangled it was impossible to determine the exact number of victims who had fallen prey to the improvised mine. The only thing certain was the corpses predeath intentions. Several lethal looking flechette guns lay splintered among the gore, rendered inoperative by the force of the blast. The soldier’s were definitely well equipped.
One of the biggest dangers involved in shipboard combat was the chance of accidental, explosive decompression caused by the firing of projectile weapons. Energy weapons could be just as hazardous in close quarters due to the reflective properties of the alloys used to construct interstellar craft. One errant shot from a high powered laser could bounce around a sealed chamber, killing everyone inside including the owner of the weapon. Flechette weapons were generally accepted as the best compromise. They relied upon slivers of metal or rigid plastic propelled at hypersonic speeds to eliminate the intended target. They were soft enough that there was no danger of rupturing a ship’s precious skin. The slivers were not as kind to human flesh. A good flechette rifle could send a cloud of ripping death at an enemy before they had a chance to react.
Ganry and Olaf were forced to rely on low velocity slug throwers to defend themselves. The stubby pistol fired a large, heavy ammunition at a relatively slow speed. The slug’s low speed caused it to tumble, stripping it of some accuracy over long distances, but shipboard combat usually took place in close quarters. The slugs were not capable of breaching a ships hull, but could inadvertently shatter a laminated viewport. It was a small chance and one that most spacers were willing to take, especially considering the high price of alternate munitions, such as the hijackers' flechette guns. Ganry only hoped not all of the marauders had them or this assault could be very short and even bloodier.
They did not meet any resistance as they made their way deeper into the station. Ganry and Olaf were familiar with the route they had to take from their many visits to the station. Although they had not see any more hijackers, there were still people on the station. Inhabitants scurried away from the lumbering, suited intruders, unable to recognize them as would be rescuers. For now, the two spacers ignored the frightened people. There would be plenty of time to reassure them if the mission was a success. Their top priority right then was to make their way to the bridge. After several minutes of running in the bulky suits, Ganry called for a rest. The environmental suits were designed for use in zero G or close to it. They were never intended for this kind of extended usage, but the suits were the only protection they had from the marauder’s weapons, however slight it might be. After a quick respite the run toward the bridge continued.
After a seemingly endless effort, the bridge's hatch came into view and just as expected, it was closed and sealed. Nothing short of a satchel charge would open the thick door. The bridge had been designed with such an attack in mind, but there were just some things that one can never plan for. Ganry slowed his charge to a jog until he reached the door. Just behind, Olaf quickly caught up to his crewmate.
"Are we ready," he asked over the suit’s private frequency.
Ganry was slow to answer, still panting from the effort of getting to this point. "Almost, just give me a minute. Let me make sure Fizzie is in place before we give the signal."
"Fyxtic, is everything a go," Ganry whispered hoarsely into his mic.
The only response was three electronic beeps coming from their frequency. The alien was unable to responded with anything more than a keyed tone because he was exposed in space, unprotected by a suit. Sound didn’t travel in a vacuum, rendering his audio pickups useless. The only way it knew it was being hailed was an improvised neural transmitter attached to its skull. The transmitter stimulated a section of the scalp, mimicing aural signals as closely as possible. This type of arrangement had been used to help the deaf for almost a century, but this was definitely an inspired use of the idea. Otherwise, the most important cog in the plan would be cut off, unable to communicate during the critical moments just before the assault. As Ganry received the message, Olaf began setting up the group’s trump card.
Having received Fyxtic’s affirmation, Ganry contacted Beth. "It is a go, Monarch. All of our assets are in position."
"Then let’s get this party moving." Beth gave Uri the order to contact Pinnacle again. From the moment the trap was sprung the station had tried desperately to hail the ship, screaming for an explanation of the emergency. Up until now, Monarch had been silent.
"Pinnacle Station, this is Trojan, what in the hell is going on."
"We have no idea, we show an explosion in docking collar M-7, are you damaged?" Whoever was running traffic control was still concerned about the oxygen the freighter was supposed to be carrying. If it ignited, the station would sustained heavy damage, possibly even crippling it. Oxygen was essential for life in space, but it could be as dangerous as a time bomb.
"We are fine, but our airlock is damaged. We will be unable to uncouple until we can effect repairs. What happened down there?"
"We were hoping you could tell us Trojan."
"Hold on for a minute, I have a visual of something," Uri paused for a moment, giving the station a chance to stew. "Pinnacle station I have visual contact with several possible unfriendlies incoming."
"What are you saying, we don’t read anything on our sensors."
"Neither do I, they must be stealth craft. I see two, no three small fighters approaching from vector 270. Do you have a visual yet."
"No, nothing..."
Uri interrupted the controller, putting plenty of panic into his voice. "Oh frag, they just slowed and jettisoned troopers, in full zero-G armor. They just landed on your hull. They look like they are heading toward the bridge. You had better prepare for boarders."
"Say that again Trojan, did you say boarders?" Uri and Beth could almost feel the controller’s panic. He kept trying to hail the Monarch again but they were not answering. They had fulfilled their part of the plan. They had shaken the hornet’s nest and waited for them to come pouring out. This time they would be ready.
Listening in over the neural transmitter Fyxtic furthered the plan. It loosened the tether and scrambled over to the emergency airlock’s controls. It entered a universal distress code, causing the airlock to begin flushing the air out of it. The sound was clearly audible within the station’s bridge. The most important part of the plan would come next. Everything depended on the hijackers' reaction to the imagined forces closing in. If they panicked and decided to run before the situation got any worse, the plan would work. If they showed any backbone and decided to fight it out the plan would be wrecked. It might even cost some of the Monarch's crew their lives. All of them held their breath, waiting for some sign as to what the marauders would do.
Click, Ganry and Olaf perked up at the sound of the security locks opening on the hatch to the bridge. They readied their weapon and prayed it would be the marauders who rushed out. After several seconds, the locks were completely disengaged and the door slid back revealing a crowd of people dressed in Pinnacle uniforms. They were heading for the open door in a very disorderly fashion, but not as if they were being driven. The two held their fire, not wanting to hit any of the station's personnel by accident. The marauders were supposed to get the special gift that Ganry and Olaf had brought from Monarch, but they were nowhere in sight. The people froze when they saw the two crouched in the passageway behind the squat, tripod-mounted weapon. A woman's scream could be heard coming from within the crowd but it was soon drown out by a cacophony of shouted curses.
"Everybody out of the way," Olaf shouted orders at the crowd. He feared it was too late to save some of the hostages if the marauders knew they were trapped. How had they know that someone would be waiting in ambush for them just outside of the bridge? Maybe luck, but maybe not. Strangely, the hostages began calming down, as if they had resigned themselves to their fate. They milled around the bridge, heads hung in defeat. There was no sign of any hijackers on the bridge. Olaf looked at Ganry questioningly. "What do we do?"
"How should I know, but if you see any of the scumbags, fire. I am going to contact Beth maybe there is something happening outside we should know about." He switched frequencies and hailed the Monarch. "Beth, what is going on? There is no sign of the hijackers here, only the hostages, and they are acting really strange. Anything new on your end."
"Nothing here," Beth's voice was filled with puzzlement. "Maybe they are somewhere else on the station and have tapped into the command circuit, cutting the bridge out of the loop"
"Is there a secondary bridge on Pinnacle?"
"No, it is too small. The only place the control and sensor systems are hooked up to is the bridge. Are you sure there aren't there?"
"Hell, why don't I ask. It couldn't hurt." As he was about to speak up a individual broke away from the crowd and approached them with hands up. They recognized her as Bonnie Craig, the director of Pinnacle Station.
"We surrender," she spoke timidly.
Ganry activated his external speakers and responded, "Excuse me?"
"We surrender, you win," she repeated.
"Are you getting this," Ganry whispered. Beth replied quietly over his suit's receiver.
"Who is that talking?"
"It's Bonnie Craig, in the flesh."
"Open up a free channel, I want to talk to her." After he flicked a switch, Beth's voice was broadcast over the Bridges's speakers. She tried to disguise her voice. "Pinnacle Station we accept your unconditional surrender. Any acts not in accordance with your surrender will be dealt with swiftly and strongly. Sergeant Handstaad, switch back to the command frequency. Sergeant Handstaad?"
Ganry was puzzled, but then he realized Beth was just playing up the military strike ruse. He switched back to his suit's internal speakers and answered," Sergeant? You could have at least made me a commissioned officer. What do you want me to do?"
"I think I have an idea that could work. Get all of them off of the bridge and keep an eye on them. I doubt that any of them were packing sidearms on the bridge. Otherwise, you would have seen them when they thought the Navy was knocking on their door."
"So, what comes after that?"
"Just get them all out. Wait, leave Bonnie on the bridge. She is the smartest of the lot. If we separate her from the rest of the people we may be able to sort this whole thing out."
"Do you think this while thing was a setup to make it look like they were being held against their will?"
"What purpose would it serve? I have a bad feeling that Bonnie and her folks were behind the whole thing and there never was a hijacking. "
"You really think that Bonnie thought she could get away with this?"
"Think about it, she almost did. We were probably the only people who figured it out. But, don't worry about this now. Just get those people off of the bridge."
"Right-O, Beth. Olaf and I are on the case." He turned on his external speakers and addressed the dejected crowd. "Attention, people, everyone must vacate the bridge. We need to talk to Director Craig alone. We may be able to work out an arrangement." The people seemed a little more hopeful at the thought of being able to salvage a little out of a hopeless situation. They filed out under the direction of the two spacers, quietly and without emotion. They trusted Bonnie to get them out of this mess.
After all of the people had left the bridge except for Beth, Ganry and Olaf dragged the Ultrasonic Beamer into the bridge and sealed the hatch behind them. They were alone with Beth for the fist time and the ruse was about to end. After engaging all of the security locks and disabling the manual override on the door, Ganry signaled Fyxtic that they were ready for him to come in. The emergency airlock's door slid open, allowing the alien to slip out of the cramped chamber. Beth gasped when she recognized Fyxtic.
"I was beginning to question whether the plan had worked. Unknown circumstances seem to have arisen. "
Ganry responded after removing his helmet," I think you could say that. From what I can see Bonnie and her people devised the whole thing to pick up some extra money on the side." He turned and spoke to Bonnie," is that about it?"
She was still in shock after realizing that her plan had collapsed because of only a handful of people. She knew the crew of the Monarch from their regular runs to the station and she had been aggravated when they escaped, but she never dreamed that they had the nerve or brains to destroy her entire scheme.
"Oh my god, that freighter was really the Monarch."
"You bet, it was a pretty good trick, even a little better then yours, eh, Bonnie."
"Bugger off!"
Just then Beth chimed in on the bridge's frequency. "Look, Bonnie, the station is ours. No one can get in or out of the bridge except for us. At this very moment I am preparing to high tail it to Edo to bring back the Sector Militia. You are all going to sit back and wait for them to show up. My crew would rather not be forced into doing anything to actively dissuade your people from trying to leave before the authorities show up, but they will if necessary. I would appreciate it if you would make a formal announcement to your crew to avoid any problems. If they do not agree, Fyxtic has orders to revert to minimal life support to the station except for the bridge. Your people will only get enough air to keep them alive and some of them might not make it. They choice is yours."
"I agree, but I still can't believe you people outsmarted me. If it weren't for Jessop and his friends, the plan would have worked. Too bad we had to dispose of them. All Terry cared about was his honor. If we didn't do this, the station was going to go belly up. Our finances were in terrible shape and all Terry could think of was doing the right thing. Survival is the only thing that matters. They should not have tried to warn you."
"The Sector Militia will be the ones to decide that. I just hope they realize that most of the people on Pinnacle would not have done this unless you influenced them. Ultimately, whatever happens to them will be your fault."
After three uneventful weeks, Beth returned at the head of a squadron of Militia ships. The commander of the Militia unit boarded Pinnacle and took custody of the station. He met them on the bridge and thanked the Monarch's crew for all of their help. He also presented them with a large monetary award from the corporations who owned Pankot and Foucault. They were very appreciative and knew how to show it. With fuller pockets and one less contract job, the Monarch pulled away from Pinnacle Station and set a course for Pankot. Now that the Pinnacle run was gone they had to find another way to make some money. Beth was hoping that their actions on behalf of the station at Pankot would help them get a job there. It was just the kind of break that a struggling captain needed to work her way up in the world.
Uri looked over at Beth as the ship pulled away. "Beth what do you think will happen to Bonnie and her people?"
"She will probably be executed. The Militia doesn't take kindly to piracy. I just hope she doesn't drag down the rest of her crew."
"What will happen to Pinnacle?"
"Well, it will probably go up for auction to pay any fines and the cost of sending out the Militia. " Uri looked at her again with a glint in his eye. "Oh no, Uri no way."
A wide grin split his face," anyone interested in buying a space station."
THE END