Mists Of Orion ( part 2 )

 Only 1000 meters to go.

Her escape route was 320 meters from the bridge. A secret hatch was located in the floor of hallway 4B. That lead to a runway for the captain's escape pod. She was figuring on whoever has boarded the ship to have one or more vessels outside manning their guns, looking for escape pods. The captain's pod, however, was a fighter-style, with guns and powerful engines.

The corridor outside the bridge had been empty for the first 300 meters. She could hear an unfamiliar beeping coming from her right, so she followed it. Then she found herself ducking into the galley doorway. Luckily, they had their backs to her. Luckily, the galley doorway was dark because only the emergency lighting had come on.

Two soldiers -- pirates -- were at the hatch. They were scanning with a lock sequencer, looking for the hidden corridors and hatches. The scanning device worked by detecting digital locking mechanisms. If you come across a locking signature somewhere that isn't obvious, you've found yourself a hidden hatch. The sequencer could decode the digital signature and open the hatch. She recognized the type they were using as military, most likely stolen. But it was a top-notch model, and they would have the hatch open in a few minutes.

She tightened her grip on the handle of the rifle. She wasn't sure the fletchette rounds would penetrate their armor, but she needed to get into that damn hatch. As she began to raise the weapon, heavy footfalls echoed through the corridor. Quickly moving toward them.

She relented and tried to sink into the shadows. She knew all it would take was one soldier with goggles activated for darkness to see her. So she didn't move. The patrol walked past her, four more soldiers, and greeted the other two.

"Juransky, Cooper. Have you seen anyone in this corridor?"

The soldier using the sequencer stood up. The sequencer continued to beep.

"No sir. It's been pretty quiet. We have a hidden lock here though."

While all backs were to her, she slowly began to reach for the punch pad that opened the galley door.

"Well, keep your eyes open. Someone took out our maintenance crew on the bridge."

"WHAT?"

Her hand settled on the pad, and she settled her finger on the first number.

"One of the bridge crew. The other members were carted off. Only a woman was left. She must have gotten free, and rocked and rolled all over the fucking place; the repair crew has been wiped out. We just found them."

With every BEEP of the sequencer, she pressed another button on the punch pad.

"Kurtz is going to have someone's hide for that one. Are you sure it was a single woman?"

She was trying not to breathe. As she pressed the fourth number, with only one more to go, a soldier turned around to glance back.

"If it wasn't her, then someone else got on the bridge, and got her out maybe. Either way, be cautious. Radio in every five to 10 minutes."

She felt him see her, and she thought it was over. She was sure of it! The soldier even stopped to look at the doorway.

"Yes sir. We will."

Then he started off back toward the bridge. His visor must not have been activated, but his weapon was at the ready.

The sequencer sounded another BEEP in time, and she hit the final button. Her heart stopped.

She had forgotten. Just forgotten, in the middle of trying to stay alive and figure out what was happening, that the galley had been sealed. All the non-essential hatches had been sealed for the long trip.

The galley door let loose with an extremely loud gush of air, and the hatch banged against it's own frame. She might as well have stepped into the corridor and busted out into a song and dance routine.

She only caught a quick glance of the soldiers spinning around and bringing up their weapons at her because she was running. Pushing through the hatch and running for her life.

The soldiers wasted no time firing at her. And they were firing powder-fueled projectile weapons. She thought they looked like center-fire assault weapons.

The bullets began to "ping" and "thunk" throughout the galley corridor. She made her way to the next hatch and turned back the other way, firing several fletchette rounds at the soldiers. The emergency lighting rig was hit and the corridor went nearly pitch black. She could see their visors activate and glow a dull green in the dim light.

She hit one of the soldiers as he tried to position himself around the hatch. She could hear them frantically calling in their positions, and her hopes of escaping began to fade. She could see another patrol coming at her, getting between her and the pod. She pulled open one of the side hatches, which led to the freezers and to safety, for now.

She closed and locked the hatch. She ran past the freezers faster than she had even run in her life. She figured on having seconds to pull this off, and it was a huge risk.

Across the freezer bay was another hatch. This hatch led to a maintenance track. The track would lead her out to corridor 4B again if she could manage to remove one of the panels from the inside. She wasn't sure she could.

Then the locked hatch began to sequence. She could hear the digital scanner beeping.

She leaned down and quickly checked the clip of her rifle. It was about half full. She guessed about 20 more rounds.

Then she ripped open the maintenance panel and climbed inside. Once there, she pulled it closed, and the panel clicked shut.

She now had a three-foot by two-foot tunnel to crawl down until she reached the desired maintenance panel, which ran behind the freezers.

She began to squirm and fight through the pipes of wiring. There was no light, she just moved by feel. She hadn't done this since she had trained to be a crewmember of this particular type of ship. That was 10 years ago.

Suddenly she heard the soldiers' voices. Someone was yelling at them to fan out, check the freezers. Then, as she pushed past a junction box, light filled the tunnel. Someone had pulled open the panel she had entered.

Her rifle happened to be pointed in that direction.

As a soldier stuck his head inside for a look, she fired, and a steel fletchette round punctured his helmet and skull, spraying his brains through the other side of the tunnel.

She began to pull herself through the tunnel very quickly now; she could see bits and pieces of the wiring tubes. She could also hear the men screaming about the dead pirate.

She watched them pull his lifeless body out of the tunnel.

Just as she finally reached another panel and began to pound on it with her fist, she heard something get thrown into the tunnel. Then she felt something roll up to her boot.

There was no question what it was, really.

She kicked the grenade as hard as she could, and it tumbled back past the other panel.

Then she punched the panel in front of her full on, and felt some bones in her hand snap.

But the panel broke open.

She was halfway out of the tunnel when the grenade EXPLODED.

Heat funneled toward, the force throwing her legs out of the tunnel.

Then the wall bulged and flames licked out of the panel at her, singing her hair and thin, white body suit. Now stained with grease and dust; now burnt.

She quickly rolled to the opposite wall and checked for soldiers.

One had remained near the hatch; he was bringing his weapon to bear.

Once again, the pirates' bulky armor saved her life. She could move twice as fast. And the fletchette rifles were very light.

Four rounds strafed vertically from his chest to his head.

The soldier dropped like a sack of rocks, firing one round into the emergency lighting rig.

The light began to flicker and spit bright, white sparks.

She was on her feet again, moving as fast as she could to the hatch. They had found the card panel, which also scanned fingerprints. It was wide open.

She pressed her thumb down quickly and immediately screamed. It was the broken hand, but she kept it steady and the scanner quickly ran across the print.

She heard them coming, through the dull ringing in her ears she could hear them running toward her again.

The hatch popped and slid open with a gush of air. A ladder waited. She didn't have time. She dropped the 10 feet.

She hit the grated floor hard, slamming herself into the wall. The rifle bounced out of her hand as well, but she was focusing on closing the hatch back up. She used the ladder to steady and pull herself up to her feet. She hit the small red panel with all her strength.

The hatch closed as quickly as it opened. Just as gunfire erupted.

She noticed now her broken hand was bleeding as well. It wasn't her "good" hand anyway, so she bit down on the pain and scooped up the rifle. On her fist step toward the pod she screamed again, and fell hard back to the grating.

Her right ankle was either broken or seriously sprained.

Then she could hear the sequencer beeping again. She could hear the soldier yelling something about hurrying up, getting the hatch open.

She used the rifle to prop herself up, and then used it as a cane. She made her way down the small corridor to the hatch for the pod. As she reached the pod, the beeping of the sequencer change. Then she heard the above hatch pop open.

It didn't matter now. She was climbing inside and closing the pod hatch, which would keep her safe from gunfire. The problem was the controls. The fighter pod had duel joysticks.

She could have cried. She could have broken down right there and shot herself in the head. It wasn't fair. It was pain.

She slid the lock down on the hatch just as someone ordered a hold fire. Then someone was trying to wrench it open. She couldn't see them; the only window faced forward and the corridor was sealed at the hatch, so they couldn't see the ship. She was sure they had no idea the hatch was also the entrance to the pod.

She used her good hand to fire up the engine sequences. Flicking a series of switches, pushing a series of buttons. The engines began to hum to life, then she could no longer hear them yelling: The engines were just too loud.

The rear display monitor blinked to life, and the gate began to open. She could see the stars beyond the cold steel hull. A smile streaked its way across her face now. She wrapped her broken hand around the first stick, using her good hand for assistance. She didn't scream this time, but she wanted to. Her index finger and pinky worked well enough to keep them around the stick, but it was constant pain. Even with her hand going numb, the pain shooting up her arm was seething.

She used her good hand to fire the engines. The pod burst into space. She caught a glimpse of the soldiers sucked into the runway and out into the void as she pulled away from the ship that had been her home for six years.

As she roared away, she also saw the pirate ship, 10 times the size of her own. It rested above her helpless ship, its gigantic arms clamped around the body of the vessel she had just barely escaped from.

The bigger ship's guns began tracking and firing, but even with one busted hand she was a superior pilot. It was nothing for her to dodge the tracer fire, and finally pull far enough away from the ships to feel safe. She smiled again, and even laughed a little.

Then she saw the button.

It was boxed in by red and black caution-tape and a small sliding door. The graphics above it read:

REMOTE DETONATION OF MAIN ENGINES: will detonate upon reaching safe distance.

She flicked up the sliding door without hesitation, then paused. She didn't notice the four large fighters pulling away from the pirate vessel and veering toward her. She only though about the crew. The crew of her ship. She'd be killing them all. But would they rather be prisoners? She had a duty to make sure that didn't happen, as well.

A tracer blast bounced off her right wing. With her ship jarred from the blast, she hit the button without even trying: Her decision was made for her. As she kicked the engine on full and rocketed away from the other fighters, the starry sky turned white.

The engines detonated in a brilliant flash or pure white light. And as her ship raced away on full power, the fighters -- and both ships -- were torn apart. Turned into so much space debris.

She wasn't sure how far she had traveled, her ship eventually going adrift as she shifted the power to life support systems. She had time to bandage her hand with the first-aid kit under the seat, even finding some food rations on board.

It was nearly a week, she guessed, before she heard the radio transmission. It was broken and distant, but familiar. It was her branch; a USS vessel designated Kittyhawk. She wasted no time firing up the radio and increasing the transmitter's power.

"This is Captain Aurora Vix of the USS Mackinaw. I'm floating adrift near sector 9H45. Do you read me?"

The Kittyhawk immediately responded. They were on a rescue mission, looking for her. She quickly switched some power to her homing beacon.

"That's it! We've got you Captain..."

Noeland Collins