Isaac jogged through the narrow catwalk thoroughfare which linked the reactor bay to the dock. With Erik and Helvig in tow, their footsteps caused the unmanned defensive barriers set up on the pathway to clatter as they stomped their spacesuit boots in a rush to get into the dock before it was sealed.
The docking bay traffic controller blared over the radio. “Unknown contact inbound, 230 bravo. ETA ten mikes.” The mystery vessel that waited for the lifeboat at the first waypoint, started its approach and it would only be about ten minutes before it was within estimated strike distance. The lifeboat had no outward defense systems, but most strike craft were short range, for reasons Issac wasn’t sure of. In ten minutes, if the contact were a strike craft, it would be within firing range.
Helvig’s panting echoed over the short wave. He was carrying a heavy machine gun tripod, his weapon and an extra bag of ammunition, all without power assist. A lot of the operable muscular enhancement gear was lost on the last excursion and what was left of the engineering team had more on their hands than just working on grunt gear.
As the three rushed into the docking bay, their short waves started picking up cross chatter among the defenders that set up on the cargo container wall encircling the airlock.
“Militia team four, five shift to the rear and setup barricade.” Jakob broadcasted on the shortwave.
Through huffing and puffing Helvig piped up. “Sir, why aren’t we just holding the reactor?”
“We don’t have enough people to defend the entire lifeboat. We’re reinforcing here. If things get bad, we fall back and seal the reactor.” Erik stifled his limp as he ran.
“What about everyone else in the docking bay?” Helvig mustered out a reply through his labored breaths.
Erik’s face washed over with a disappointed, resentful grimace. “We’ll honor their sacrifice.” He reached over to the controls on the underside of his arm and switched on his short-range radio. “Control, reactor team. We’re on site and awaiting orders.” He radioed out to whoever was overseeing the defense of the docking bay to let them know they were ready to be assigned a location to defend.
“Reactor team, control. You’re assigned to Red team. Move to your designated sector and follow established orders.” Jakob replied over the radio.
“Reactor to Red team, copy. Out.” Erik replied and he looked over the map on his wrist display. “We’re on the near corner, up on the wall.” He pointed toward the stack of shipping containers. It was lined with polymer defense barriers, and several small teams, two to four men in spacesuits, were scattered along the top, huddled behind the shields.
As the three rushed over to the corner of the wall, Erik jumped, engaging his power suit legs and leaped up to the top in a single bound, about five meters in height. Then he spun around and fell prone, reaching down for the tripod on Helvig’s shoulders. The private hoisted the metal stand up to the sergeant, then tossed his bag upon the wall.
“You first, c’mon.” Erik pointed at Helvig, motioning for him to be pulled up to the top of the wall.
With a running leap, the private scaled about halfway before Erik snatched him by the wrists and yanked him to the top. As Helvig ascended, the electric sensation which emanated from the mystery craft intensified in Isaac’s chest, the mark a conduit for this painful feeling.
With the waxing and waning of this sensation coursing throughout his muscles, it was as if a pressure was pushing him closer toward the airlock from behind. Isaac was forced onto the balls of his feet, inexplicably ready to charge forth. Whatever was radiating this energy out there was suddenly creating a force, drawing him closer.
“Unknown contact inbound, 312 bravo. ETA five mikes.” The docking bay traffic controller radioed out. They changed their approach to a steeper trajectory and were five minutes from strike distance.
Erik got the private up on the wall, then leaned back down and reached for Isaac. “Let’s go.” He beckoned with his wrist.
Like the four-wheeler racing forth with a pinned throttle, Isaac burst forth and scaled the wall with three steps against the barrier. As he breached the lip, he gained a moment of air before landing hard on the metal surface.
Erik rolled over in shock and pushed himself to a squat, his eyes wide. “What the hell was that?”
Isaac cleared his throat, not sure he wanted to, or could, explain what just happened. “Good coffee this morning.”
With suspicion, Erik slowly rose upright, eyeballing Isaac the whole time. Then the sergeant turned to the private who stood with mouth agape.
“Why isn’t this gun setup yet?” Erik spoke with harsh authority, pointing at the empty tripod on the floor.
The shock from Erik speaking snapped Helvig out of his awe and he swallowed hard. “S-sorry sir!”
“Don’t be sorry, be doing.” Erik then returned his attention to Isaac and sized him up with an unsure eye.
The private jumped into motion and retrieved the heavy machine gun that was secured to the front of the sergeant’s suit. Then fumbled in trying to secure the weapon to its tripod.
“And you.” Erik continued to stare at and motion toward Isaac. “I know you’re full of piss and vinegar but if this whole operation eats it, you’re the first one out of here.”
Isaac gritted his teeth, not unfamiliar with this kind of talk, and why: because he was the ship’s only reactor tech. “I get it. Don’t worr—”
“I want to hear it.” Erik demanded.
Blinking and exhaling hard in resignation, Isaac nodded. “I’m the first one out of here.”
Finally slotting the machine gun into its tripod, Helvig looked at the two and cocked an eyebrow as he reached over to the bag, pulled out a long belt of blue core heavy coolant cells, and pulled the tab through the receiver to insert the first of the belt.
“Good. Sit behind that barrier and don’t move.” Erik pointed to the polymer shield next to where the heavy machine gun was set up.
Before Isaac could comply, Jakob walked by below, inspecting the line. “Sergeant, I want an effective field of fire from—” The lieutenant stopped as he spotted Isaac. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Your orders were to provide security for him at all times. I can’t—” Erik started.
“Security detail doesn’t mean put him in the line of fire, sergeant.” Jakob shouted. “Get off the wall.” He motioned with a lone finger toward the ground.
“No. There’s—” Isaac shook his head.
“That wasn’t a request. Get off the wall.” Jakob grit his teeth, his voice teetering on the verge of anger.
“I need to be here. I’m not moving.” Isaac squared himself off with Jakob.
“Look, just get down—” Erik leaned in to hush out to Isaac.
“Stow it, sergeant.” Jakob pointed at Erik.
The sergeant backed off and stood upright with a stressed groan.
“Get off the wall. Now.” Jakob’s voice was laced with venom.
Isaac needed to be at the forefront, to fend off the incoming hunters. There was no way he was leaving. On top of that, how could he even explain to them in the time they had left. “I’m not going.”
“Unknown contact inbound to primary airlock, docking imminent.” The docking bay traffic controller called out over the radio.
Jakob looked away, listening to the broadcast and then pointed a finger between both Erik and Isaac. “I’m not done with either of you.” As he turned to leave, the lieutenant gritted his teeth and scowled at Isaac, then departed to inspect the rest of the line.
Staring at his brother leaving, Isaac could feel anger pummeling the back of his head, from Erik’s gaze.
“Why’d you have to pick a fight with the L.T.?” Helvig turned to Isaac, kneeling as he finished setting up the heavy machine gun.
Erik spun on his heel and darted over to the marine in the blink of an eye. “Why are you talking to a civilian, private?” The sergeant unloaded all his rage on Helvig.
The private stood at attention in an instant. “N-no excuse, sir.”
“What is the marine’s creed?” Erik butted his glass visor against Helvig’s.
“I am the shepherd of my people. I will guide us toward salvation. Nothing, man or otherwise will stand fast in my path. If I must let blood, I will. If my people need my blood, they shall have it.” Helvig recited the marine’s creed with fear in his voice.
“Do you know what shepherd means, private?” Erik shouted.
“Yes sir!” Helvig responded promptly.
“Get on that fucking gun and point it toward the airlock. Don’t blink. Don’t say a word until I tell you otherwise.” Erik snapped his elbow and pointed with an open hand and fingers pinned together toward the heavy machine gun.
The private fell to a sit and pinned his boots against the tripod, pivoting the weapon to point toward the airlock.
Then Erik picked up the spare rifle on the ground and pulled the charging handle slightly, to check that it was loaded. As he did, he looked up at Isaac. “I got a spot all warmed up for you.” He pointed at the floor near the barricade.
Isaac relented and knelt behind the deployed shield. On the other side, the sergeant took up a firing position, stabilizing his weapon against the polymer cover.
A small asymmetrical craft leveled off slowly outside the green laser barrier of the airlock. It had a central hull with hard angles but an oblong, bubbly cockpit offset from the center. The docking craft lurched forward with a careful pace.
“Defensive R.O.E.” Jakob radioed. “No one fires unless fired upon.”
The ship entered the airlock and lazily descended to the ground. Its golden hull contrasted against the gunmetal deck. The ship’s red blinking docking lights overpowered the illumination of the dock.
Erik looked down at the shaking barrel of the heavy machine gun and placed a careful hand on Helvig’s shoulder. “Easy now.”
The mystery craft touched down with pads that emerged from within its hull. As Isaac peeked around the shield, the shape and design of the craft looked like something that would have come from one of the ancient First Expedition ships. Its design was sleek, ornate, with various embossed lines that gave it an almost regal appearance. Different than the otherwise current practical designs of the fleet.
The rear of the docking craft let out a hiss and steam poured out as the ships’ atmospheres equalized. A ramp extended from the parting doors on the back side of the craft, just wide enough for departing passengers. After the walkway contacted the deck, a clicking sound filled the quiet docking bay.
As the noise grew louder, Isaac realized it was the sound of heels smacking against the metal of the ramp. From the docking craft emerged a woman in an officer’s uniform: a black and white blazer, white pencil skirt, an officer’s cap, and low white heels. She rounded the ramp with her hands up.
“Identify yourself!” Jakob’s voice called out over the docking bay intercom.
“Inquisitor Regina Escavalde Antonio, Second Expedition Investigation Unit.” The woman complied.
Erik groaned and lowered his weapon. “Crap. Stand down.” He motioned to Helvig.
Isaac felt the electric sensation radiating from her very presence. The inquisitor locked gaze with Isaac and gave him a knowing smirk. It was her, the huntress Slephna described.
