"Do you know who those people are? It's like we jumped out of the frying pan and landed on the sun! We can't hold their people! They're trying to communicate, it's only a matter of time before they send someone over and then we'll wish the raiders were still trying to break in!" shouted an unshaven man in a stained white smock.
"Shut up Brad! Your panicking isn't helping!" A bald woman shouted back, bringing her hand down hard on the common room table. The emergency communications terminal rattled. The display blinked green and blue, indicating that a general transmission was coming in. "I don't know for sure who that is, and neither do you! All I know is that they just came in and took out a whole fleet of raiders like it was routine cleanup and they're not from the company. Now that we have more doors to close, we're closing them until we can get a supervisor on comms or an emergency frigate in range."
"That's the Triton! You ever hear of the Triton? Maybe you heard of Captain Valance? He sent his people here to help us and thanks to you lot, we've shut the doors and trapped them inside! Do you know what someone like that does to someone who crosses him? We're done, Larissa, bloody finished!"
"It's a myth, ten times the bark to once the bite. What we have here is too important to let someone who isn't with the company to see, and if more of his people come aboard they will see what we're sitting on!"
"Shut your yaps! Both of you! We've got everything locked down tight for now. It's a pity we have to keep the repair people they sent over under wraps, but we knew it would be necessary when they offered their help," a woman in a heavy vacsuit said calmly. "Oberman should have the MWorm generator reconnected any minute and then we can contact the company. They'll have someone here in a day or two."
"Seventeen hours, that's how long it takes a rescue ship to get here, seventeen hours," Brad specified. He sat down in one of the old steel chairs so hard it creaked. The common room was furnished to seat many, but not too comfortably. Stark white and grey speckled flooring, bare metal walls and a dozen utility tables with chairs made for a dingy recreation area, but it was effective. One wall was spattered with dried blood, against it were the remains of a cafeteria serving bot. Its six arms hung limply and the cables that had been torn free when they managed to get to its power cell and remove it remained as they had been since the Holocaust Virus had struck the station.
"We'll be fine 'till then. We just have to keep our heads, keep whoever's out there away from us and we'll start rebuilding."
"Rebuilding? You can start rebuilding. I'm transferring out," Brad scoffed. "That's if they don't just open fire until we crumble and drop out of orbit."
"Even if they are who you think they are, why would they? We have at least thirty of their people plus whoever's trapped in that gunship in the secondary landing bay."
"Okay, fine. So you rebuild. With who? Before all hell broke loose this station had what? Six hundred indentured miners and support personnel?"
"Actually, it was a little over a thousand including the station crew and technicians," Larissa corrected as she sat down at the table.
"Okay, one thousand. How are you going to staff up? We're down to fifty three."
"I won't have to worry about that, this operation is so important that the company will leave anyone half way qualified here. Besides, when they see we have eleven tons of raw diamond ready to ship, they'll have to."
"But the Triton has got to have gotten a scan off on the core of the station. There's no way they've been sitting out there this long without finding a way to scan through the magnetic barrier."
"Have you ever gotten a scan to read through the barrier?"
"No, Amanda, I haven't. That's a bloody big carrier out there though, unlike I've ever seen. Who knows what they can do?"
"Oberman here," the intercom crackled overhead. "MWorm gennie is up and running. Are we talking to the repair guys who fixed the power yet?"
Amanda activated the intercom switch on the neck of her loose vacsuit. "No. Make sure that line is secure and go help everyone else secure the station. I'm calling the company. Oh, and if you can get power to those cannon mounts so they can look operational…"
"That's doable. I can even get them rotating but they'll never fire."
"As long as it looks like we can fight, we just have to make sure they keep their distance."
"Right. On my way."
She took the portable console from Larissa, brought a listing of primary contacts up on the screen and initiated communications. The display turned a light shade of green as it verified that the micro wormhole generator was online and creating a high compression wormhole to a relay station light years away. The lights dimmed noticeably. The three station officers waited patiently, Brad absent mindedly tugged on his goatee.
A brown Caran Enterprises screen came up. The square, diamond and circle logo hovered just above the lettering. Amanda selected a rotating exclamation point. It moved to the centre of the screen and rotated for several seconds before a squarish face appeared. "You are recognized, Amanda Dimitri. The senior Foreperson on Ossimi Ring Station. You're declaring an emergency?"
"Yes. A virus infected our primary systems and our automated workforce after Eden Fleet disabled our defences. We recently fended off some raiders and are currently under siege by a new, unknown threat. The ship's name is Triton."
"That ship is wanted in connection with violations of several galactic laws. Are you being coerced in any way right now?"
"No, I'm not being forced to communicate with you and no one's telling me what to say."
"Are any of your defences online?"
"No, Eden Fleet destroyed them before leaving. The obscuring field is up though, so we can't be scanned at long range."
"Good. What is the condition of any product you have on hand?"
"Always about the product. That's aaaaall the company cares about," Brad muttered as he leaned back in his seat.
"We have enough to pay for repairs to the station and more. Can you send a ship?"
"A rescue vessel and military escort was dispatched when your station management lost contact. They should arrive shortly."
"Can they handle a large carrier?"
"Certainly. Your instructions, Foreperson Dimitri, are to keep the product safe, gather your personnel in the most secure part of the station and make every effort to prevent further damage. There will be bonus pay if you are able to detain any of the perpetrators or recruit new workers to counter any casualties you may have sustained. There is also a large bounty on the Triton and any crew members. End communication, thank you."
The channel closed, shortly followed by the micro wormhole generator and the lights returned to their normal brightness. Amanda sat back and smiled. "I knew I heard about a bounty. Anyone want to try for that bonus?"
The main crew compartment for the Cold Reaver was nothing more than a large hold made to carry many soldiers from a carrier or garrison to the field of combat. Most of the crew relaxed by hooking themselves up to the straps dangling from the ceiling. When strapped in they could let the shoulders of their vacsuit armour take their weight and hang.
Ayan had ordered everyone in the station to retreat to the Cold Reaver three hours before, when the power to the main section of the station was restored and they realized that they had lost all contact with the Triton and the station crew were no longer using the jury rigged comm unit to speak to them. It was strange, very strange.
Ayan, Finn, Stephanie and Alaka stood separately from the rest of the soldiers and technicians they had brought with them. "So we repair the links to the gravity mill, restore power and life support to about half the station and they just stop talking? It doesn't make sense," Stephanie said quietly. She was the only one in the group hanging by a crew restraint.
"Is it possible that communications were damaged when the power was brought back online?" Alaka asked.
"Not on my end. We were nowhere near the communications systems," Finn replied.
Ayan thought for a long moment before answering; "Communications? Oh, not a chance," she replied as though she just realized a question was asked.
"What are you thinking Commander?" Alaka asked her.
"I can't stop thinking about that power drain. There are only a few things that could have caused it. Stabilization thrusters being one, but we're in a stable orbit and this station can't travel. From what we can tell they haven't restarted mining operations, and they're not producing anything like antimatter or causing a high energy reaction like you'd need to restart a singularity reactor."
"That leaves spatial compression," Finn mused.
"A wormhole, exactly. I'm thinking it may have been a micro wormhole for communications."
"How does that add up with them locking every airlock and hatch down with us inside and then not keeping in touch with us?" Finn asked.
"They must have new information from the outside," Ayan looked to each of the senior officers around her before continuing. "The Order of Eden has put a bounty out on Triton crew members. If they're looking to contain us for a prize this is the quickest way to do it."
"I was wondering when that would happen. I'm just surprised it could come around and bite us on the ass so fast," Stephanie nodded.
Alaka and Finn didn't seem shocked either, a surprise to Ayan. "We're left with three options; cut our way to them, which would take days and send the wrong message, we could try to re-establish contact, or we can cut our way out."
"I think we should cut our way out," Stephanie offered.
"Yes, we can figure everything out once we're back aboard the Triton," Alaka agreed.
"Maybe it is some kind of error. There could be interference caused by a discharge somewhere," Finn shrugged. "Just because we weren't near the comm systems doesn't mean it isn't fried part way through, or there isn't some kind of jamming malfunction, we know they have the tech here to do that kind of thing on purpose, why not by mistake?"
"It's unlikely but possible, I'll admit. Still, we should give a diplomatic solution a try while everyone else works on opening the hangar door enough to permit the Cold Reaver to leave."
"I'm going with you, and we're going armed," Alaka told her.
"I'd have it no other way. We came aboard on their terms and it's gotten us nowhere, time to do things our way." Ayan strode to a weapons locker and retrieved a pulse pistol and rifle. She holstered the first and clipped the second to her chest. "All right, I need three technicians, Alaka and two squads with me. Everyone else stays here and works on getting that hangar door open."
Finn was the first technician to step forward, there were several more behind him, many more than three.
"You're staying here and directing the effort to get the door open Finn. I'll take any three techs you recommend though," Ayan said.
Finn picked three out of the volunteers and they joined Alaka's squad members.
Ayan took a spool of strong, thin wire from her engineering pack, clipped it to her belt and attached the other to a Cold Reaver comm panel. "We're going to use wired and laserlink communications so they can't jam us. If my wire gets cut, set up a laserlink relay just like you've all practised in simulation. If you can't contact me or run into heavy resistance trying to get to me use whatever means necessary to get back to the Triton. Chief Vega will be in charge of everything besides getting that door open. That'll be Finn's job. Use everything you need."
"Good luck Commander," Stephanie replied. "I'll tell you if anything changes on our end."
"Thank you, Commander," Finn added.
Ayan, Alaka, the technicians and two squads of soldiers poured out of the Cold Reaver's main gangway at a run. With the life support back on their suits didn't have to counter the heavy gravity so the strength amplification systems made their movements feel light and effortless.
Terry Ozark McPatrick stepped out of the private ready quarters lift onto the bridge and was struck still for a moment. Every station was manned on the upper and lower levels, internal and external tactical status holodisplays were spaced out across the middle of the bridge, extra personnel were standing by, ready to take a place at a station if an officer there was called away to another task and in the middle of the hornet's nest was Captain Jacob Valance. He was the dark, cold centre around which everything orbited.
The ship was on full combat alert, everyone was called to stations. The Flight Operations deck beneath the main bridge was just as busy and bustling and at a glance Oz could see Chief Angelo Vercelli manipulating the three dimensional interfaces that marked which fighters were ready to launch and which should be loaded after they had been punted out of the Triton’s lower hull.
Without a word he strode to the command seat at Captain Valance's left and brought up the ship wide status screen. Something he wished he'd done before leaving his ready quarters. He managed to stifle his surprised reaction when he read the first line of the status. "They have Ayan and the whole team locked in the station?"
"They do. We can't contact them, but a close flyby with a Uriel fighter showed all their life signs. Best we could tell there were two squads running towards the station's inner chamber," Jake answered.
"Do we have a plan?"
"We start with a show of force. I'm launching all our fighter squadrons."
"So much for getting the new engines installed."
Jake simply nodded.
"Do we have any sign at all from Ayan since she last reported?"
"None. As far as we can tell they've found a way to block any signals from or to their command units. They did just open a micro-wormhole. Jason's working on decrypting the communique."
"How long did he say it would take?"
"He's bringing the Minuteman supercomputer online, he said it would be about two hours after that."
"Good."
"Sir, the station's sent us a message."
"Put it up," Jake said, surging to his feet.
A hologram of a woman in an old, loose fitting heavy vacsuit appeared in front of him. " Triton. We will be willing to allow your crew members to leave after you've remanded all the raider crews into our custody. They will be charged with destruction of property and piracy. You've already taken numerous vessels into your hangars, we will expect you to comply with our demands within the hour using those ships." The message ended.
Jake grunted to himself and sat down.
Oz started looking up the regional law on piracy with the provision of being enslaved at the time the crime was committed.
"It's life. The sentence for piracy in this region of space is life for free crew or slaves. It doesn't make a difference," Jake told him quietly. He was reviewing the readiness of the torpedo banks, missile turrets, gunnery deck, and beam weapon emplacements.
Until then the weaponry on the Triton had just been a list, like any other feature he'd never seen. As he looked at the tactical view of the ship, left of centre on the bridge he realized how very deadly the vessel was. Thirty six torpedo tubes in nine loading rooms across the port, fore, aft and starboard sides were loaded with driller rounds, set to detonate after punching through a hull and detecting an atmosphere. The fourteen missile turrets along the lower hull were loaded with two hundred eighty kilogram seeker projectiles. The gunnery deck's eighty four 280mm round guns were set with electromagnetic pulse rounds while its fourteen 450mm guns were loaded and ready with fragmentation burst rounds. The last of the weaponry, the eight carrier class electromagnetic beam weapons were half charged.
"There she is with all her teeth bared," Oz breathed as he looked over the broad, gleaming stingray shaped vessel. The only visible flaw was the absence of half her massive main engines, leaving recessed swivel ports open in the lower aft quarter of the vessel.
The first squadron of seven Uriel fighters, led by Ronin launched from the lower hull and began moving into position around Triton. "Where do you want me Jake?" Oz asked him.
Jake manipulated a series of remote controls and gave the Palamo a heading that led it very close to the station, between it and the Triton before answering.
"I need you here," he replied dryly. With a flick of his finger he engaged privacy mode around the command seating. "It's Ayan over there, I need someone who can command this carrier better than I can. I don't know what I'll have to do in the next few minutes."
"What do you want to do right now, Jake?" Oz asked quietly.
"I want to load every seasoned soldier we have into the Clever Dream, blast my way into the station and pull her out."
"I don't think the standard smash and grab tactics will work here. We don't know enough and with the material that station's made of it may as well be a prison."
"All the more reason to act sooner rather than later, I can put a plan together enroute."
"Have you looked at that thing? From the way those turrets are moving it looks like they have weapons back online. If I'm not mistaken their guns could do serious damage to the Triton, the Clever Dream would be cannon fodder."
"They'd have to get a clear shot first. The Palamo is moving in to provide cover on remote. I'll pass her controls on to you, her reactor is wired to blow, just in case."
Oz looked Jake right in the eye. "What if Ayan's working a plan of her own? She could be in harm's way and we'd never know it."
"I'll be careful."
"You're not level, Jake. Let me put a plan together."
Captain Valance sat back, his suppressed tension showed in the flexing of his jaw. "All right. You put it together, I'll lead it."
"We're not trading the slaves, right?" Oz asked.
"Hell no."
"Had to ask." He brought up a listing of ships they'd taken from the raiders and chose the one in the worst condition. "Give me five minutes."
Jake watched his old friend focus on a captured raider vessel. It was called the Jade Whisper. At just over seventy meters long, it was a distant relative of the Samson in design. Between the scars of long past combat damage and fresh damage caused by Minh's fighter wing, there wasn't much left, but it was basically operational. "Thank you Oz, I don't lose focus like this."
"It happens to everyone. If I were in your shoes I wouldn't be much good for heavy thinking either."
Jake realized he was practically breathing over Oz's shoulder and stood. The privacy barrier only extended a meter past the edge of the command seating, and he stepped outside of it. He was immediately confronted with the three main holographic displays, one focusing on the Triton, the central image was a more expanded view of the area and the right hand image had been switched to a visual representation of the asteroid field outside. The data was being updated by a Uriel starfighter holding station outside the obscuring barrier with a micro wormhole pointed towards the Triton. It was the early warning system, their only way of monitoring what was happening outside.
"Jason, have you seen any more transmissions incoming or outgoing from the station?"
"No. They've gone silent. My guess is they've consulted their backers and are operating under their instructions until help arrives."
"Do we have any idea who these people are associated with?"
"It's an independent station as far as I can tell. The cargo containers adrift in the area are marked with a lot of logos." Jason grimaced and shook his head in aggravation. "Why can't I figure out why we're not getting an active signal from our people in there! It's not like any jamming I've seen!"
Jake walked over to the communications station, a semicircle with all five seats filled, Jason was in the centre. "Would a tether work? Maybe an actual line leading to a ship breaking through the hull?"
"Of course, you can't jam a hard line without tapping it."
"Okay, start working under the assumption that we have a rescue party getting ready to go."
"Do we?"
"Oz is working on something."
Jason couldn't help but pause a moment before nodding. "Okay, then I'll work under that assumption and move on to other things."
Jake walked back to the centre of the bridge and looked at the curved lattice work of the station. He had a sinking feeling, like the situation was slipping out of his control. "We're coming, hang on, we're coming," he muttered.