A Space Odyssey Chapter 15

Story so far: The Gorion, under Captain Bran Varnas, while on a deep space exploration and salvage mission came across an ancient, derelict Alliance battlecruiser, the Helios. Bran and crew boarded the ancient ship, leaving the Gorion's engineer, Nalia, behind to watch the ship. After moving through the strangely empty ship, the crew came across a life sign. That life sign was the Yolandan, Mazzy Fentan. Rescuing her from the Detention Center, the crew found themselves in a trap, cut off by the undead crew of the cruiser. They fought their way out but found themselves unable to reach their ship.

Now, the crew finds themselves at a barricade manned by more of the undead, a last barrier between them and their ship. The crew has prepared their battle plan and are about to engage the zombie defenders. Our story continues... NOW.

Disclaimers: Violence, bad jokes, and my apologies, but this is a long one as well.

 
With Bran’s command, the silence of the corridor shattered under the assault of his crew’s first strike against the zombie barricade. The hum of Bran’s Bladesinger, the roar of Jaheira’s rocket launcher and the electric crack of Lilarcor’s disruptor beam made for an earsplitting cacophony of weapons fire. Despite the discordant sounds, it was music to Bran’s ears as he watched the first salvo strike home.

The barricade withered under their combined firepower. Bran’s shot struck home, the red lance of coherent energy boring through a zombie defender’s helmet and sending him crashing to the deck. From Imoen’s cursing, it seemed as her shot failed to slay her target, her round slowed too much by the barricade she attempted to shoot through. However, his HUD display showed that Valygar’s and Fentan’s shots both struck home as two more of the defenders crumpled.

These first blows paled in comparison with what happened next. Jaheira’s rocket slammed into the port side of the barricade, its explosive warhead tearing into the metal like a lion into its dinner. Fire and smoke billowed and shattered bits of durasteel screamed through the air as the barricade crumpled under the blow. Bran saw at least two of the defenders fly through the air, bodies caught in the blast wave, uniforms already ablaze.

Almost simultaneously, the ultramarine disruptor beam from the homicidal Lilarcor 900 struck home against the blast shield guarding the phase cannon’s zombie crew. The aged transsteel could not hold back the destructive power of Minsc’s weapon and in less than a second, it explosively sublimated. The crew, who had been desperately trying to swing their weapon into firing position, lasted but a few moments more as the beam tore through their long dead bodies, disintegrating heads and torsos.

Its crew now gone, Minsc turned the bloodthirsty beam on the cannon itself. The chassis of the phase cannon, designed to constrain powerful destructive forces, proved to be of sterner stuff than the crew shielding. However, it was not designed to deal with the unholy wrath of an insane disruptor cannon. With an audible howl of rage at the phase cannon’s continued defiance, the beam shifter farther to the blue end of the spectrum, so charged with energy it could barely be seen with the unaided eye.

The phase cannon’s chassis simply could not withstand such raging power and it gave way, allowing the beam to bore into the capacitors and firing chamber. The addition of Lilarcor’s destructive energies was more than the compensators could handle, and the cannon’s power cells exploded and the world went white.

The ensuing blast wave flung the light blinded Bran and his crew backwards, sending them tumbling to the broken deck plates. All around him, Bran felt superheated gas stream by and chunks of metal tumble along with him. One piece of metal struck his armored suit, caroming of the left shoulder plate and leaving a trail of sparks.

Blinking his eyes to clear them of the incandescent afterimage of an exploding cannon, Bran found himself lying prone amongst the rubble of the corridor. Inky blackness surrounded him, darkness that not just shrouded his eyes but his sensors. Checking his displays, it seemed as if the electromagnetic backlash of the explosion temporarily blinded them, much like the light had done to his low light gear. Waiting for the gear to rest and unsure of the situation, he held off on activating his suit lights and called out on the common band, “What the hell happened?”

“Boom,” replied a familiar voice, managing to sound both sassy and concussed at the same time. “Big bada boom.”

“A correct, albeit colorful, description of the events, Imoen,” added Jaheira.

“But how? I saw the phase cannon get hit, but there is no way an aging phase cannon should go up like that,” asked Bran as he began to push himself off the deck.

His answer came in the form of low but hysterical electronic chuckling coming from his right. Looking over at the disruptor cannon, he growled, “Alright circuithead, spill it.”

“Hehehehehe. Har-mon-ic rey-so-nance baby!” chortled Lilarcor. “That old bastard had mismatched and untuned power cells.. so, I just picked a frequency that’d really ramble his goat and woo hoo! Fireworks!”

“Fireworks that nearly killed us all.”

“Yeah,” answered Lilarcor, almost sounding contrite but still far too ebullient, “Didn’t think it’d be THAT big. Musta caught a power conduit. And those mines. Heh heh heh.”

“Next time, don’t think, just stick to the plan, you overheated pile of defective circuits,” ordered Bran.

“Hey, I killed em all. All of em! That was the point!” shouted back Lilarcor.

“And almost killed us all, which wasn’t!” Bran replied flatly. Ignoring the cannon’s sputtering, he asked, “Now, is everyone okay?”

“I am uninjured,” replied Jaheira as she climbed to her feet, “as is my gear.”

“Other than a sore butt, just fine and dandy, Bran-dy wandy,” chirped Imoen.

“Minsc and Boo are ready for action! Larry is too, but promises to not be so liberal in the butts he kicks!” announced the big gunner as he too stood.

“I will be fine once your navigator removes himself from atop me. His armor is a trifle heavy,” answered Mazzy from underneath her armored Valygar cocoon.

“No further injuries,” replied Valygar as he pushed himself off the Yolandan woman. “And my apologies Captain Fentan, but you were unarmored.”

Sucking in a deep breath as the heavy weight of the armored navigator was removed, she replied, “No apology necessary. The simple act of continued breathing is sufficient enough excuse.”

Cutting to just his navigator’s set frequency, Bran teased, “Moving so fast V-Man? You barely know her. But then again, an intergalactic ladies man like yourself has to always be on his toes, doesn’t he?”

“Will you never tire of such remarks?” answered Valygar in a tone that spoke of long suffering.

“Doubt it.”

“Perhaps you should have the Doctor examine you, it seems as if your sense of humor has calcified,” tossed back Valygar.

“Not bad V… hey, speaking of the Doc..” he said, switching back to the main channel, “Doc, you okay?”

There was no immediate response.

“Doc?”

Still no response. Turning and reactivating his low light gear, he looked at where the doctor still lay prone. A large chunk of durasteel lay atop her slight form, masking face and chest from view. Concern creeping into his voice, he said again, “Doc? Can you hear me?”

His questions were met only with silence. Dropping his rifle, the captain scurried over to where his medical officer lay pinned. Immediately, Jaheira and Minsc appeared by his side, Minsc reaching for the large chunk of steel covering the doctor and Jaheira pulling a medical scanner from her hip and directing it at the fallen doctor. Scan results still in progress, she shouted at Minsc, “Minsc! Do not move that metal yet. I need to assess her injuries!”

“But little Aerie is trapped! Trapped alone in the dark!” cried the massive gunner. “Minsc must free her so that she is not scared!”

“And we will, Minsc, but not before we know how badly she is hurt. You could accidentally hurt her worse,” replied Jaheira without looking up from the medscanner.

“Minsc would never hurt little Aerie! Never! Minsc protects Aerie,” Minsc boomed with a cracking voice.

“We know big guy,” answered Bran. “But let Jaheira do her thing and then we’ll get her free, okay?”

“Okay.”

Turning towards his XO and field medic, Bran asked, “So, how is she?”

“If you will stop pestering me for a few seconds, I will be able to give you an assessment,” was her clipped response.

Smiling despite the rebuke, Bran acquiesced. As his XO finished her assessment, he could hear his gunner chiding his cannon. Listening in, he heard Minsc growl, “Minsc and Larry work to kick the buttocks of evil! We do not hurt good! And you hurt good!”

“Look, Minsc, it was an accident. I just wanted to make a big boom, wipe out that arrogant prick of a cannon. Not hurt anyone,” wheedled the cannon.

“Larry cannot lie to Minsc and Boo! We are smarter and wiser than you! You were willing to hurt little Imoen, and now you hurt Aerie!”

“Look the first was just.. high spirits. You know, pre combat juice. Blondie was an accident. I swear!”

“If Aerie is hurt, then Larry is no longer a force of righteousness,” snarled Minsc. “And Minsc and Boo will sweep the decks with your buttocks! We will..”

“Minsc, while I would not mind seeing your over exuberant weapon decommissioned, Aerie will be fine,” Jaheira interrupted. “No serious injuries. Now, if you and Bran can get that..”

This time Minsc interrupted Jaheira with a joyful shout. Before anyone could act, the big man reached down and pulled the big chunk of metal off of the doctor and with what seemed like negligible effort, hurled it down the corridor. With the rubble removed, the still unconscious form of Aerie was fully visible. The breastplate of her armor was badly dented and scratched, but it and her faceplate looked intact.

Jaheira slid closer to the unmoving form and thumbed open a small coverplate on the woman’s left shoulder plate. She was punching in a code sequence as Bran moved closer. “So, really, how is she?” he asked.

Not looking up from the shoulder panel, Jaheira responded, “The armor took the brunt of it thankfully. Her injuries are actually relatively minor, some significant bruising of the chest and back and a mild concussion. I’m using the suit medkit to give her something to heal the concussion and to alleviate the pain and swelling as well as something to wake her up.”

“Damn. Considering how that looked..”

“Yes, we are lucky we didn’t lose our medical officer. When we get off this ship, I suggest you seriously consider ordering Minsc to decommission Lilarcor.” Jaheira said flatly as she punched in the final key sequence.

“Look, its not just a weapon, its Minsc’s.. friend.. somehow,” Bran answered, voice just slightly defensive. “And now is not the time to debate it either.”

“Indeed,” replied Jaheira, knowing full well this wasn’t the time but indicating she was not going to let the subject go. “And she is waking.”

On queue, the slight Avarielian doctor’s eyes fluttered open. Pale blue eyes stared up confusedly at the three figures crouched over her. She blinked twice and asked in a shaky voice, “Wh.. what happened?”

“You were hit by a piece of debris. You sustained minor injuries and were temporarily rendered unconscious. I used your suit medkit to administer the proper medications,” answered Jaheira.

“I.. I see. Th..thank you.” Gently pushing herself up on her arms, she asked, “C..can we leave now?”

“I think that’s an affirmative,” answered Bran with a smile.

Aerie never finished getting herself to her feet as Minsc swooped down and lifted her off the deck in a bear hug. Holding her tight to his chest, he gushed, “Minsc and Boo are so happy that little Aerie is okay!!”

“M.. Minsc, not so tight,” pleaded Aerie’s voice from inside the heavily armored hug.

Blushing underneath his faceplate, Minsc lowered the doctor to her feet and loosed his grip. “Minsc is sorry, Aerie. I am just so happy to see that Aerie is okay.”

“I..I am Minsc,” she said, bending down to pick up her abandoned rifle. “And I know I will be with you around.”

Although it seemed impossible, Minsc blushed the color of his tattoos. Despite the severity of the situation, the rest of the Gorion’s crew couldn’t help but crack a little smile at the little tableaux before them. Bran, a smile tweaking the left hand side of his face, turned away from the beaming gunner and the grateful doctor and said, “Alright folks, enough gawking. We still have a ship to get to. And a corridor to clear.”

Already a step ahead of him, Jaheira hefted the rocket launcher from where she dropped it. Checking the targeting display, she reported, “I still have a lock on the flanking formation’s position. One cleared corridor coming up.”

“Hold your fire, Jah. It might be unnecessary, considering that explosion. They were a lot closer than we were, and I’d rather not waste the rocket. They’re damn expensive.”

“Send me the bill.”

Before Bran could react, she dropped to one knee, shouldered the launcher and fired. A brilliant streak of superheated gas shot out the back of the launch tube and a fiery streak leapt from its front, illuminating the blackened corridor before it plunged back into gloom. The darkness lived for but a fraction of a second as the blast from the detonating missile burst from the beyond the battered blast door, casting more light on the destroyed corridor.

As this new flash of light faded, Bran stared at his impetuous second in command. Wishing he actually could be angry, he said, “I’ll be sending you that bill. As soon as we get back on board.”

Jaheira stood and turned back towards the others, lowering the launcher and handing back to Minsc. As she did, she flashed her captain a truly wicked grin. “And I’ll be sure to pay it. In full.”

“Really.”

“Oh yes,” she replied, grin growing even more devilish as sauntered over to Bran’s side. Tracing a finger along the side of his faceplate, she added, “In a currency of my choosing.”

Bran’s smile now turned devilish. “I see. Well, then let’s get the hell off this ship. Im, lead us off.”

“Right-o, boss,” replied Imoen. Winking at Jaheira, she added, “And Jah… nice.“

“I’m glad you approve of my tactics.”

“Hey, blowing stuff up is always okay by me,” Imoen said with a smile. “And,” she continued, thumbing down the corridor, “lucky for us, it looks like the claymores went off. Well, those that weren’t incinerated by the blast wave. Makes life easier for me, as I really had no intention of going into the priesthood.”

Allowing herself a short laugh as the others groaned, the redhead lead off, picking her way through the rubble. Bran followed close behind, lamenting his sister’s atrocious sense of humor. It would have been a truly terrible joke if he hadn’t heard Minsc ask Boo what claymore mines had to do with being a priest. After listening to a few seconds of the space hamster’s chittering, he heard Minsc say quizzically, “But Boo, that just isn’t funny.”

Imoen was almost to the blast doors leading back to ship when she heard Minsc’s comment. Turning her head towards him, she huffed, “Just because you can’t appreciate my comic genius doesn’t mean you can criticize it.”

“Show us comic genius, pink one, and you will have full right to be offended,” quipped the navigator.

“Another poor soul who can’t comprehend my greatness,” sighed Imoen dramatically.

“Then I am in good company,” replied Valygar matter of factly.

Catching his drift, Bran joined in, “Good company indeed.”

“The many, the proud, the sane,” stated Valygar.

“And you two are complaining about my sense of humor. Jeez,” groaned Imoen as she finally reached the blackened and damaged hatchway. Adjusting her grip on her Krobler, she pulled out a small microcamera on an adjustable rod and extended it out into the doorway. As she panned it back and forth, she let out a low whistle.

“What is it sis?”

“Between Larry’s hijinks and Jaheira’s fireworks, there isn’t much of anything left in there. Of the eight, I count one that still could be a threat, and one that might be. The rest are permanently out of commission.”

“The minigunners?”

“I believe the term is… toast, oat Bran,” replied Imoen cheerfully.

“That makes life easier. Can you take the two of them?”

“Is pink the greatest color that ever was?”

“No. But I get your point. Take them.”

“Roger that.” Nodding, she pulled back her microcamera and returned it to its place on her suit rig. Gear stowed, she shifted her Krobler into firing position and sucked in one breath to calm her nerves and clear her mind. The former infiltrator and sniper blocked out all but the positions of her targets and slipped into a state of perfect calm. Now prepared, she soundlessly pushed herself off the corridor wall and swung into the gaping doorway, rifle at the ready.

One of the targets reacted immediately, tattered and burned flesh straining to bring his weapon around into firing position. He never made it. A heavy iron-nickel slug leapt out of the gauss rifle and sped forward, slamming right into the zombie’s forehead and releasing him to death before he could manage a shot. Without skipping a beat, she swung the gauss rifle down towards her other target. This one still moved but it was no threat. The twin explosions assured that. Still, she lined up the shot and took it, sending the other cursed crew member to the long denied afterlife.

Sweeping the darkened corridor one last time and finding no other threat, she reported, “All clear.”

“Roger that Imoen,” replied the captain, hand raised to give the order to move into the corridor.

“Bran,” interjected Jaheira, “I’ve got movement on motion sensors,”

Turning to look at his XO, Bran asked, “How much and where?”

“Minimum of 5 targets, heading this way.” Checking the reading again, she corrected, “Make that a minimum of 8. ETA two and a half minutes.”

“So it’s a race then. Alright everyone, light up your active sensors.” As he gave the order, he toggled his own sensor suite. His HUD filled with data gleaned from his command suite’s sensor suite. A quick assessment showed what looked like three squads heading his way, two from forward sections, one from aft. Cursing, he said, “They know we’re here and they’re bringing friends. Look’s like it’s going to be a party. Im, lead it off, double time. Jaheira, follow her with the rest of the crew, Minsc and I are going to try to seal this hatch.”

With a quick thumbs up, Imoen dashed down the corridor, leading the rest of the crew towards the airlock. As they disappeared, Minsc and Bran turned their attention to the heavily pocked and blackened blast door that separated Broadway from the airlock corridor. Gripping the aged metal with both hands, Bran shouted to Minsc, “Alright big guy, let’s get this hatch shut.”

Getting his own grip, Minsc replied, “Minsc is ready Captain Bran!”

“Alright. On two. One! Two!” On cue, the two men began hauling on the door, straining with not just their strength, but the extra power provided by the servos in their suits. The door shook and strained but remained in place. Grunting from the effort, the two tried again, and once again, the door didn’t budge. Not even a centimeter.

Sucking in a deep breath, Bran gasped as he hauled, “Damn, this thing is a lot heavier this time.”

“Boo says,” Minsc answered between grunts, “that the explosion may have fused the door into the track.”

It took only a second’s glance to confirm the space hamster’s technical assessment of the situation. The explosion had warped the track and littered it with debris, damaging it enough that there was no way for the two men to pull the opened door closed. Cursing both Lilarcor and their luck, Bran growled, “Boo’s right Minsc. No way we’re getting this door sealed.” Pounding the door with one gauntleted fist, Bran spat, “If only there was some bloody way to wall of this hatch!”

“Wall, Boo?” Minsc asked his hamster sidekick as he let go of the unmovable hatch door. Nodding to his hamster’s response, the big man quickly marched to one of the sides of the corridor. Finding a wall panel damaged enough to give his grip purchase but still solid enough to serve as a barrier, the big man reached out and heaved. The large panel resisted Minsc’s might for a second, but the ancient bolts could not hold against such strain. Surrendering with a horrible screech, the panel tore free in his hands.

“Captain Bran needed a wall,” boomed a beaming Minsc, “Minsc and Boo get him one!”

One eyebrow raised, he looked at his gunner and the large chunk of wall paneling the man held aloft. Shaking his head, he said, “I didn’t mean it so literally, but I think it’ll at least slow ‘em down. Slap that up and I’ll torch it into place.”

Quickly, the two men worked, Minsc holding the large piece of wall paneling in place and Bran working a plasma torch to weld it into place. The entire operation ate up fifty precious seconds but resulted in at least a temporary barrier. Deactivating his torch, Bran pronounced, “It’ll hold, but not long. And our new friends are going to be here right quick. So, let’s get out of here, huh big guy?”

“Boo thinks that this is the wisest course of action,” replied the gunner.

Barrier now in place, the two men double timed it down the hallway, heavy booted feet crashing against the deckplates. They hurtled broken bits of machinery and the corpses of two zombies who’d had the ill luck of running into the rest of the crew. From behind them, the first sounds of weapon’s fire impacting on metal resounded. The zombies had reached the barrier.

“How long you think it’ll last Minsc?”

“Captain Bran is an excellent smiter of evil but a poor welder. Maybe a minute. Boo says probably less.”

Seeing the rest of his crew crouched by the door to the airlock room cut off Bran’s retort. The five turned to face the charging men, weapons half raised on the chance that it was not familiar figures bearing down on them. From the port side of the door, Jaheira demanded, “What took you two so long?”

“The explosion jammed the door. So we had to improvise. Although that improvisation won’t last long. So, what’s the sitrep?”

“Eight inside the airlock chamber. From scans, three behind the console, two each flanking the door, and one hiding behind broken inner lock door.” Tossing a nod towards the door, she added, “They know we’re coming. We can’t get in there without taking heavy fire.”

“And I think I figured out why we can’t reach Nalia, Bran,” added Imoen. “There is some kind of weird energy field coursing over the ship’s hull. I can’t punch my suit sensors through, even at this range. It’s probably frelling comms as well.”

“Fun times,” replied Bran sarcastically. “Okay, no time for a real complicated plan. We can’t use explosives, the ship’s too close and we can’t risk venting to vacuum. Minsc, how much charge do you have left in that shield generator?”

Minsc looked down at the displays on his wristcomp. “Shields back to 60%. Coolant levels are happy and green!”

“Good. You’re going in first to draw fire. You and Larry take out the console and the three hanging out there. Jaheira, you and Fentan take the port side. Valygar and I will take the two on the starboard. Im, you get the sucker in the middle. No holes in my ship, got that?”

“Wh.. what about me?” asked the doctor.

“Get ready to patch any holes we get. And watch our tails.”

Bran checked the charge on his Bladesinger and brought it up. “Once we’re in, we have to seal this door. We’re going to have a welcoming committee on our hands shortly. Understood?”

The others nodded and lifted their weapons as Minsc punched in the key codes for his personal shield. Once more, the shimmering blue corona enveloped the big gunner. Smiling, he lowered Lilarcor 900 into its firing position and took his position at the door as the others flattened themselves against the corridor’s walls. At Minsc’s nod, Jaheira punched the door panel and the airlock chamber’s doors hissed open.

Before the doors even finished retracting into the wall, a hail of blaster fire rained into the corridor. Most of the shots harmlessly splattered against the ceiling and floor, carving small furrows into the metal. A few others found their target, sparking against Minsc’s energy shield, flaring it to brilliant shades of yellow.

However, Minsc was not simply standing there and absorbing their fire. As soon as the door cranked open far enough, the big gunner charged into the room, swinging the heavy disruptor cannon into firing position. Target acquired, Minsc pulled on the firing stud and the above the hum of its compensators, Lilarcor raved, “It’s hide and seek time! You hide, I SEEK!!”

As it chortled, the ultramarine beam lanced out from Lilarcor’s emitter dish and slammed into the console that the zombies were using for shelter. While designed to be used as a defensive post if necessary, it could not stand the punishment Lilarcor doled out. Metal and flesh vaporized as Minsc swung the emitter dish from left to right, neutralizing that threat.

The rest of the crew was not idle while Minsc launched his assault. Taking advantage of the defender’s attentions being focused on the shielded gunner, the two fire teams followed on his heels, weapons hunting for their targets. On the port side, Jaheira leapt in, firing both barrels of her dualie simultaneously . Both shots caught one of the zombies full in the head, spinning the corpse into the wall. Fentan and her neutron carbine were equally skilled, a three shot burst of coherent energy cutting down the other port side defender.

To starboard, the captain and his navigator joined the shooting gallery. Bran’s first shot was off center, only gouging the zombie’s helmet. Before he could get off a second shot, the zombie was felled by a blast from one of Valygar’s Katana 500s. Two more shots from the other Katana dropped the other zombie. As the dark skinned navigator turned to focus on the last remaining defender, he quipped, “Your aim is degrading quicker than your sense of humor, sir. Better be careful.”

Bran swung his Bladesinger up to demonstrate just how good his aim still was, but Imoen already eliminated the need for that. Before his eyes, he saw the last zombie defender slump out from behind her cover, a smoking hole in her forehead. For a second, the only sounds were the whine of Minsc’s shield generator and the crackle of burning electronics. Swinging his Bladesinger to his shoulder, Bran said, “Nice shooting people. Now let’s get off this tub. Doc, get in here. As soon as she’s in, Im, V-man, lock and torch seal that hatch. I don’t want them busting in here while we’re still in the gantry. Jaheira, you take the Doctor and Captain Fentan aboard and tell Nalia to get those engines ready to turn and burn. We’ll follow.”

Relieved smiles crossed the faces of the Gorion’s crew as they set about their tasks. Imoen and Valygar already had the hatchway sealed and their torches out, sealing the heavy doors. Minsc deactivated his shield and gave Bran a big thumbs up and Jaheira lead the way to the airlock.

Shoulders slumped in relief, Bran watched his navigator and infiltrator apply the finishing touches to the hatch with a small smile. His sensors showed a significant force heading down the corridor, heading their way, but they were too late. These doors would hold long enough for the Gorion to finish recovery procedures and be away. His smile only widened when a whooping Imoen ripped out the logic circuits for the hatch, waving the aged piece of equipment around like a flag. Fixing him with a big smile, she laughed, “Those smelly punks won’t be getting in here any time soon, big bro. We are free and clear!”

“Roger that, brat,” Bran laughed back, “Roger that.”

“I’m a brat? Oh well, that would make you..” Bran didn’t get to find out what he was, as Jaheira’s voice cut in over the comm.

“Bran? I think you better get up here.” Noticing the strange edge in his second in command’s voice, Bran’s smile faltered.

“What is it Jaheira?” Bran inquired.

“Just get up here. Now.”

Imoen saw the troubled look appear on her brother’s face. Eyebrows shooting up, she asked, “What is it?”

“Don’t know. Hang on.”

Weapon safed, the captain stepped over the lifeless body in the airlock itself and strode towards the Gorion’s gantry. Passing through the Helios’s outer airlock door and into the gantry apron, Bran caught the first sign of trouble. The control panels for the outer gantry door were open, optical cable dangling loose and pieces spliced together.

That sight alone made his stomach sink like a stone. Pressing the lock open button, what greeted him inside the outer gantry lock turned his blood to ice. In the middle of the floor was the lower half of a body, legs dressed in the uniforms of the Alliance crewers that had served aboard the Helios. Standing around that grisly sight were his second in command, his ship surgeon, and the rescued Yolandan, all pale as sheets.

“So, they managed to get into the gantry,” he said softly, eyes staring at the evidence his mind refused to believe.

“It’s worse, Bran. Far worse,” answered Jaheira, the fire in her green eyes dim and banked. “Look,” she said, pointing to the blood spattered lock door.

Slowly, Bran walked into the lock and towards the closed airlock doors that led to the gantry and his ship. His eyes sought out the two small clear panels that allowed a crew member to look from gantry to lock. As he approached, his mind played out different scenarios, each more horrible than next. Images leapt into his mind’s eye, visions of a horde of the undead Helios crewers, just waiting for him to open the lock, or even worse, the body of his young engineer sprawled out and bloody, lying on the gantry deck.

Reaching the hatch, he peered through. What he saw shocked him even worse than the horrible images he had anticipated seeing. Instead of a blood spattered gantry or undead hordes, he stared out into a darkened mass of twisted transsteel and mangled mobidium. Severed cables sparked in the blackness, casting eerie illumination on the wreckage of what had been the gantry. And beyond that wreckage, nothing more than empty vacuum.

It took a moment for his mind to come to grips with the image before him. The gantry to the Gorion had been destroyed, nothing more than a shattered remnant jutting out from this aged derelict. That meant his ship, his precious Gorion was gone, stolen from him.

That was why Nalia didn’t respond to his hails. Not jamming, not alien interference. It was that his ship, and his engineer were simply gone. Slamming his left fist into the airlock door, he choked, “By the gods themselves… Its gone. The Gorion is gone.”