Petra - back to Work In Progress status!

[Pansen]

Hi. I'm copying below a draft of the first chapter of a short story about a group of prospectors/explorers working for a mining company. My first ever attempt of anything like this since school - which was some years ago now;-). Any comments appreciated!

Petra

Chapter 1

This was the fifteenth site surveyed, and marked the end of the research voyage. Not a particularly successful tour – none of the deep-space fields explored, examined and assessed for potential value showed any signs of yielding more than a few tonnes of ore. Certainly not enough to justify the cost of sending one of Z&R Enterprise’s Anacondas – or even Boas – not to mention half a dozen escort vessels – on a long-haul outing to work the sites. Presuming the markets held, perhaps there was scope for some shoot and scoop mining by smaller vessels. That was for the economists to decide.

Commander Saul Philips logged his final report and then tossed the text-slate into the co-pilots chair, and stared through the transparency of the Herbert & Carter’s cockpit at the pebbles turning slowly in the vast expanse beyond. The stark, fluorescent lights of the flight deck highlighted the crows-feet emanating from the corner of each grey eye. Catching his own reflection in the cockpit’s transparency, he considered how at 76 old-earth years he was now well into middle-age. He’d been doing that a lot recently.

“Look on the bright side: we needn’t feel guilty for filing a report that sent fifty guys into deep space to stare at rocks for six months: best to veer towards the pessimistic rather than the optimistic report where ZR’s concerned– you’ve been in the business long enough to know that” The mocking but friendly, if slightly clipped, female voice came from beneath a spill of jet-black and pigeon blood-red striped hair that hung over the control panel at the pilot’s seat to his right. “Back to base I guess?”

Philips turned to face her, a slight but genuine smile on his face. “Lets go” he confirmed.

Her left arm reached forward to the console, there, the route home was planned: jumps calculated, and likely expenses noted. Philips once again found himself staring at the symbolically tattooed limb featuring a feline jumping from flames, just above her elbow. Two months previously, he had, after several beers with the rest of the crew during one of their then impromptu and irregular (but now nightly) R&R sessions, discovered that this was a testament to time in (and subsequent freedom from) a communist gulag – It was the first time she had really mentioned anything of her past. Philips was fascinated by her, and had pried further as to her background that night. She had struck him as the sort that didn’t withhold information for secrecy’s sake, but merely didn’t bother to talk about herself unless asked to. Quite rare among contract pilots.

She turned to face him. Her sanguine complexion – betraying genetic modification of the bone marrow to enhance red blood cell production, and therefore worker’s endurance - contrasted with the stark white backdrop of the cockpit. “All set” she said.

Quite how a former ‘convict’ of a communist labour camp had come to be contracted as a pilot for the precious metals exploration department of Zaonce and Reorte Enterprises was unknown to him, though it pleased his less cynical side that the Enterprise valued merit over more snobbish notions prevalent in some of the older corporations of the core systems.

And Sola’kiki Miz-Miz was quite a pilot. On two occasions now she had saved the Herbert & Carter from meeting an untimely end at the hands of pirates – most recently, on their last tour, when ambushed straight after arrival in a feudal system. Sol had taken an imperial courier and two asp MK IIs – even shot down a hardened missile during the fray. The remainder of the ambush party – two cobra mk I’s – were long gone by that stage. The Cobra pilots had come in hard: they were clearly strong-willed, but not so unflinching that they wanted to hang around after seeing the vanguard of their party unceremoniously thrashed to pieces with stream after stream of fore-then-aft, fore-then-aft, fore-then-aft military lasers. Yes, Ms. Miz-Miz was quite a pilot.

To their credit, Z&R equipped its explorers well – in terms of both contracted personnel and kit. They didn’t regularly come under attack: mostly they traveled in deep space, where other vessels were very rarely seen, but the nature of their quarry – asteroid fields with potential for exploitation – did not restrict themselves to ‘safe’ systems. As well as the fore and aft military lasers, before this voyage, the Herbert and Carter – A modified Cobra Mk III – had been equipped with three hardened missiles (the fourth tube was kept permanently empty for launching mining probes and other equipment); navy grade shields, a naval energy bank as well as…

“Ok – all set to go now, Philips”. “Philips?!”

He snapped out of his daydream. “Yes – sorry – just dreaming of gold and retirement” he winked at her as he dropped his wiry frame into the co-pilots seat, and narrowly avoided landing on the text-slate which Sol ripped from beneath him just in time.

“Whoa! We want to have some record of our immeasurable findings, hey?” she quipped.

Philips exhaled sharply in relief. “Thanks - could do without writing that lot up again – haven’t synched it with the main-frame yet”. Composing himself, he added: “lets get going....”

He lent forward to sign himself off from his console, passing full control to Sol. Just as he was about to lean back, the well-practised routine was broken and his heart jumped a little.

“Err – what’s this!?”

“What’s what?

Philips kicked into work mode.

“Look at your console”

Sol looked up from finding somewhere safer than under her commander’s arse to stow the text-slate.

“...INCOMING MESSAGE...” read the display. Underneath a progress bar showed two thirds complete.

“Okay... ...may we live in interesting times” she said dryly.

They both sat in silence. Despite their calm ‘seen it before’ exteriors, there was a slight air of excitement in the cockpit. Receiving messages on the secure channel was a rare occurrence.
The progress bar showed full, and the message was displayed.


To: Commander Saul Philips
From: Director Leen, Zaonce & Reorte Enterprises
Security status: Red Special. Strictly Confidential.

Greetings Commander Philips. At 18:24 hrs today, we received an encrypted distress call from our Anaconda ‘Petra’ in the Xexedi system. Petra arrived in Xexedi approximately 2 weeks prior to this communication to commence a 3-month mining tour of asteroid field Delta 194.
Despite numerous attempts to contact Petra and her escort craft, we have heard nothing since this communication. The distress signal was automated – sent to us by Petra’s computer following the failure of the crew to input any commands for a period of 04.00 hours.
Petra was on expedition to set up deep-core mines and retrieve a quarry of minerals – including platinum ore with high rhodium concentrations - from the planetoids Delta 194/A and 194/B, as well as numerous other asteroids surrounding those bodies.
It is likely that Petra’s crew have been undertaking their operations for several days now. We needn’t stress how valuable a cargo she is likely to be carrying by this stage.
It is of utmost importance that we make contact with Petra, and note that you are currently in the Esbeus system - well within hyperspace distance. We therefore require you to locate Petra, investigate, and report back as soon as you have information.
Exact co-ordinates of Petra’s location are attached.
Regards, Director Leen, E&R Enterprises
...Message Ends...

Philips leaned back and let the message sink in: interesting? Maybe. A pain in the arse? Definitely.

“There goes our four-week planet leave” sighed Sol. “This had better not be like last time, when it turned out the head of ops had accidentally re-programmed the auto-distress sequence to activate after just 30 seconds of crew 'inactivity' whilst deliberately shutting down the comms channel with command, so he could ‘improve worker morale’ with a 10-hour piss-up”.

“Yes. That was bad.” replied Philips. “Half of The Balarat’s crew were suspended over that” “I suppose I’d better tell Rage and Howe. They’re going to love me...”.

Philips unenthusiastically spun his chair to the left and picked up the intercom mic.

“Greetings Mr. Rage and Ms. Howe. You had better get to an intercom now. I’ve got some good news for you” he said in a way that warned them that what was about to come was anything but.

On the deck below, the message reverberated around the hard, utilitarian fittings of Suki Howe’s laboratory. She switched on the direct link to the bridge and spoke into the mic. “What’s the problem?” she replied.

“We’ve got a non-responsive Anaconda in Xexedi. Command want us to check it out”. Came Philip’s reply. “Is Gray there with you?

“No – he’ll be fixing that bloody air-con in the mess room again – what’s this ‘non-responsive’ business? Can they not contact the escorts either, then?!” quizzed Suki.
“Evidently not, or we wouldn’t have been asked to investigate”. Replied Philips, hard; then more softly: “Sorry, I know you’ve been wanting to get back. Just let Gray know. We’re making the necessary amendments, contacting command then off in 20 minutes”.

Suki slumped back in her chair, exasperated. Her head of cropped, blond hair at 90-degrees back over the headrest - a chair not made for anyone over 6’6”, she lamented to herself. It was only her third tour following completion of her doctorate in complex asteroid metallurgy at Zaonce University. Three tours, and three cancelled planet leaves. Five years of unquestioning servitude, she reflected, was the compensation E&R expected for funding her doctorate. Moreover, she was so dumped. Before leaving for this tour, Karl had told her that she needed to have a ‘big think’ about her commitment to their relationship. They’d argued. Maybe she should have taken up the modelling contract that she’d been offered with Zoot & Zoot that her boyfriend had arranged. She reflected on her lot for a moment. Karl - a zero-g hockey player of some note - had ‘sorted’ that one without even consulting her. She remembered how much she’d hated him for doing that, but perhaps it should have been no surprise that he'd tried to turn her towards a more 'fitting' occupation. Dating a scientist would never score him many points with the players, entourage and fans of Celabile Dark Stars HC.

Twenty-three minutes later, Philips and Sol reclined back as far as the flightdeck’s chairs would allow, as the countdown to hyperspace began, and they waited for the wormhole to emerge and fling them to Xexedi.


2

A school of grey, pockmarked rocks hung suspended before the cockpit transparency. Sol quickly located the anaconda on the short-range scanner, and proceeded towards it. Already, two questions had crossed both her and Philip’s minds: why, given the potential value of Petra’s cargo, was some heavy offensive/defensive kit not being sent in, and why were none of the perhaps half-dozen escort vessels responding to communications from command? They sat in silence for several minutes. So relaxed had the crew become with each others' company over the last several months of tours together that silences had become unawkward. The first question was answered quite easily in both their minds: their vessel was simply the closest at hand; no combat craft were being sent because (despite Miz-Miz’s earlier joke on the very subject) it was likely that this was a genuine cock-up. The second was less easy to dismiss. As she studied the medium and short-range scanners, the answer became apparent to Sol. “There are no other ships here” she said matter-of-factly, and with her observation, the situation entered a new dimension.

The atmosphere in the cockpit of the Cobra froze from one of moderate excitement to one of genuine concern, and the tone of both occupants changed states with it. A non-responsive anaconda with no escorts generally pointed to one conclusion: pirate attack.

“I’m alerting command at once” stated Philips. “We’ll get a good visual on Petra up close, and take it from there”. He was about to warn Sol to keep an eye out for any hostiles, then decided that given her obvious competence, this might be a little condescending.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Cobra slowed to a stop following the first reconnoitre of Petra. Anxiety had thawed a little: apart from typical ware and tear, Petra’s hull showed no obvious signs of any hostile encounter, and the short journey to the Anaconda had been uneventful. Despite frequent attempts at contacting the crew, efforts had so far been in vain, however.

Phillips sent an update to command, and turned to Sol. “You keep an eye on things up here, I’m going to brief Gray and Howe in the mess”. “You got it”, she replied.

Suki Howe walked into the mess-room, still a little frustrated. She saw Gray, bent over an aircon unit.

“Hey Sukes! Nearly done!” he remarked. “We’ve got one ‘spare’ screw it seems, but it’s probably inconsequential to this thing's running smoothly again”.

“Very few screws are entirely inconsequential, in my experience” Suki replied, and they both laughed at her innuendo. She took a seat opposite him at the table.

Phillips made his way down the gravity well, scanned his hand to open the sliding door at the bottom, and entered the Cobra’s living area. A partially dismantled air-con unit sat on the circular table where Gregory Rage and Suki Howe sat. Suki was the first to address him “So what’s the deal?” her cobalt-blue eyes, high cheekbones and slightly down-turned lips giving her countenance an unfairly severe demeanor. When not having her planet leave cancelled at short notice, her disposition was very affable.

Philips explained the situation with the Anaconda. He saw little point in being guarded with any of the details.

“So she’s no battle scars at all?” asked Gray. “Nothing obvious” replied Philips.

“Doesn’t sound like your average heist: besides, if it was pirate attack, surely command would have been alerted by someone.” “That ship would’ve had 4 or 8 viper escorts for the grade of ore they’d have been bringing back”.

Suki interjected: “Could the escorts have been destroyed, and Petra forced to dump her quarry?”

“It’s unlikely – Petra could have hyperspaced out while the escorts were being engaged” replied Philips.

“Mutiny?” offered Gray.

“Again, unlikely – why not just wait until ops were complete, then take the whole ship with a hold full of ore.” Countered Philips.

Gregory Rage nodded his head. At 87, he was the oldest of the crew – a muscular, quiet, and relaxed man, he was a skilled, methodical engineer who had worked for E&R since graduating, though on appearance alone, could have passed as a doorman in the employ of a Riedequat night-club owner.

“Have you any theories?” questioned Suki.

“At the moment, I’m thinking massive comms-systems failure. The escorts have ill-advisedly disappeared for whatever reason”. Said Philips, though his lack of conviction to this theory rang through. “look, the upshot of all this is that were going to have to take a look on board, make contact with the crew, and take it from there” he added before either Gray or Suki could criticise his explanation.

E&R Enterprises policy required that teams of at least two personnel undertake any boarding activity. There was little debate as to who would board Petra. Whilst E&R trained all of its staff in the necessary skills to operate the EVA suits that would be used to board the Anaconda, engineering skills would be required if the ship needed repair; Sol was required to pilot the cobra, and Philips, who was in overall command, was required to stay on board the cobra and keep command up to speed.

Twenty minutes after Philips had initially walked into the Mess, Gray and Suki were in the airlock adjacent to the cargo bay, donning the cumbersome and well-used EVA suits required to board Petra. Meanwhile, Sol eased the cobra into position, hanging belly-to-belly approximately 25 metres from the silent Anaconda, with the outer airlock doors of the Cobra facing those of the enormous craft.

“You guys ready to go?” Philips’ voice crackled over the speakers mounted in the helmets of Gray and Suki’s suits.

“Let’s get this done” replied Suki.

“Ready here” confirmed Gray.

The white interior surfaces of the airlock turned red intermittently as the external doors twisted open like opposite halves of a ying yang separating, and an ‘S’ shaped crack of void grew fatter and fatter until a three metre diameter black circle was displayed in front of where Gray and Suki hung silently in the airlock.

“Preparing to exit” said Gray. Simultaneously, the two astronauts propelled themselves forwards slowly with a gentle thrust from the rear-pointing nozzles of their EVA suits.

On the bridge of the Cobra, Philips manoeuvred the camera mounted just outside the vessel’s airlock doors to observe Suki and then Gray make contact with the Anaconda’s belly. “I’m inputting the Z&R’s emergency codes to open the hatch” Gray’s voice crackled over the intercom. Philips and Miz-Miz watched on the monitor as the doors slid open, and Gray and Suki entered the red light emanating from the airlock. A few moments later, they disappeared as the doors slid shut behind them.

“Get ready!” warned Gray as he engaged the artificial gravity, and he and Suki crashed to the airlock floor. Making their way into the interior of the Anaconda, they removed the heavy EVA suits in what appeared to be a prep area for the mining personnel on the other side of the airlock. Gray established their position in the Anaconda on the blueprints of Petra stored in the company archives and accessible on a plastic flexi-slate he unrolled, which had previously been stored in the cylinder secured to his upper left arm. Suki scanned the prep area: alongside the benches and lockers stood half a dozen EVA suits: similar to those that they had just used to cross from the cobra to Petra, though more substantial, and each with several robotic appendages projecting from the back-pack for attaching mining tools. Oddly, all but two of the suits were still wrapped in the transparent sheeting that would have been placed over the suits prior to the commencement of Petra’s mission: the suits had apparently, not been used. This was strange, since Petra had, as far as she understood, been engaged in mining operations since its arrival in the system two weeks previously. “We’re here”. Gray pointed to the blueprint on the flexisheet. Suki turned to look.

On the bridge of the Cobra, attention had turned away from the camera recording the hatch which now sealed tight the entrance to the airlock in Petra’s belly and towards the short range scanner. Several asteroids rotated within a hundred or so metres from where both ships now hung silently alongside one another.

“Odd - there’s only evidence of mining activity on this rock” commented Sol, zooming the scanner in on the nearest asteroid, which she had synchronised with one of the extreme-zoom cameras positioned on the Cobra’s external hull.

The asteroid showed signs of the regimented scarring and boring by heavy mechanical equipment.

“I’ve taken a look at 5 of the others, and no activity at all, that I can see – weird, since they’ve been out here for some time now”

“It is odd, but certainly not unheard of that, for whatever reason, a crew decide to look at some of the more distant rocks first” offered Philips. He felt that he was beginning to clutch at straws.

Following the blueprints into the processing area, just outside the prep area, Suki and Gray found themselves in what amounted to a medium sized factory. Industrial drills and other equipment flanked three production lines with minerals apparently in several states of processing. One particularly large drill hung from the front of a small shuttle, which was dotted with thruster nozzles. It was obviously designed to be released from within the confines of the anaconda and bore into asteroids in search of ore.

“There doesn’t seem to be any sign of life down here” said Suki, running her hand through a tray of silver-speckled rubble.

“Agreed” replied Gray, whilst examining a large chunk of semi-processed ore. “lets get to the bridge – we may find someone up there”.

On the bridge of the Herbert and Carter, Sol and Philips continued to carry out routine scans of the various asteroids within medium range of the Cobra. It was Philips who noticed it first, and finally he conceded that the situation was anything but run-of-the-mill.
From behind the asteroid designated 194/A:BETA slowly rotated the grizzled wreckage of a Viper defence craft. “Shit” he exclaimed, and he and Sol watched the rotating shell as the bent and scarred logo of Z&R twisted into view, revealing it as one of Petra’s escorts. The vessel was burned-through with the unmistakable scorch of laser fire.

“OK. That’s it. We’ve gotta get them out of there – this just got very nasty” Sol spoke quickly, and before she had finished, Philips was at the intercom, and in an unusually panicked voice, was ordering Suki and Gray back to the Cobra.

3.

Suki and Gray walked cautiously through the processing area towards the bow of the Anaconda. According to Gray’s blueprints, the corridor that led to the bridge was accessed via an elevator in the furthermost wall. They studied the blueprints as they walked. Petra was essentially split into four sections: Processing, Operations, Crew Quarters and Drive Rooms. The processing area, in the vast mid-section of the vessel, took up at least fifty-per-cent of the total volume of the Anaconda. In the rear of the vessel, were the drive/engine rooms and a (relatively) small cargo hold – most of the cargo area found on typical Anacondas having been reclaimed by Z&R Enterprises for the purposes of ore-processing. The ‘operations’ area – where the bridge, comms and systems rooms (as well as several escape pods) were situated – was located in the narrow front section of the Anaconda. The crew’s quarters were located directly above the processing area, in Petra’s uppermost reaches. The crew quarters could be accessed directly from the bridge, via a corridor, in the middle of which the elevator shaft connected the ship’s four operations and two crew decks, as well as the processing area. It was at the base of this elevator shaft where Suki and Gray now stood.

Gray raised his hand to press the large green panel that would summon the elevator, but stopped mid-way.

“There is blood on here” he remarked, as if commenting on a coffee stain.

“What?!” came Suki’s reply. She lowered her head twelve inches to bring her line of sight level with that of Gray.

“That’s not nice – looks worse than it probably was though – blood spreads big time. Guess they get a lot of minor injuries down here – still, they could’ve cleaned that up, dirty buggers!”.

Gray covered his bare hand with the cuff of his suit and pressed the button to call the elevator.

Several seconds later, the two heavy, industrial doors parted, and Suki and Gray stepped onto the grilled floor of the gunmetal box with a volume of four cubic metres. Various safety notices were riveted to the walls.

“Bridge and Crew Level 1” an androgynous voice informed the elevators occupants. “This is us” said Suki, as the elevator came to rest.

Suki and Gray proceeded towards the sliding door marked ‘Bridge – Authorised Crew Only’. Gray pressed the button beneath an intercom, which presumably connected directly to speakers on the bridge. “Gregory Rage of Zaonce and Reorte Enterprises”. He paused, unable to think of anything more appropriate, he asked: “Is anyone there?” No reply. He keyed an override code into the panel to the right of the door, which duly parted. Four empty chairs stood in front of them, where normally the pilot, co-pilot, commander and systems officer would be seated, overseeing the many screens, dials and buttons crammed into the bridge.

“Well, It’s actually smaller than I’d been anticipating” commented Suki, stepping forwards, and resting on the back of one of the chairs. She turned to her left, where several small VDUs were located. “Where is everyone? I’m beginning to get the creeps – an unmanned processing area – weird, but ok.. ...ish; an unmanned bridge? That’s got to be virtually unheard of…”

“With any luck, we can view the security camera’s log on these” suggested Gray, gesturing to the VDUs.

They began viewing several randomly selected recordings of silent footage taken over the first 36 hours of Petra’s arrival in the system: the miner’s setting up equipment in he processing area; the initial space walk by two of the crew in EVAs (presumably the two that had been left uncovered n the prep room); the small mining shuttle with the huge drill being released from the confines of the Anaconda, and its recovery several hours later, along with a quantity of ore for processing. Nothing out of the ordinary. Only at 37:23:34 did they notice anything untoward: there appeared to be some sort of altercation between three of the crew, and two of the escort pilots – quite why the black and silver clad escort pilots had boarded the vessel was unclear, and exactly what had caused the altercation equally so. There was a violent struggle with one of the escort pilots being thrown over a processing belt, and crashing over a quantity of ore. The scuffle then moved out of camera-shot. Gray forwarded the footage by several seconds and he and Suki watched as one of the escort pilots ran to the door of the prep area, entered, then sealed the door behind him, constantly looking over his shoulder, clearly in a state of some distress.

“Err… I didn’t like that” said Suki with conviction.

Gray nodded and rubbed his eyes: “I think we should take a look at the footage from the bridge” he said, sounding tired.

“Are you okay, mate? Asked Suki. She sensed his fatigue.

“Fine” Gray replied, and began the footage.

The footage at 37:23:34 showed normal activity on the bridge – the commander, identified by his crimson epaulets, and two other officers sat observing their computer terminals, and occasionally tweaking other instrument panels. At 37:33:15 , all three of them suddenly looked towards the doorway to the bridge, through which Suki and Gray had passed several minutes earlier. The commander suddenly shot upwards, standing in front of his chair whilst the two other officers dashed towards the doorway, moving out of camera shot. At 37:33:21, the screen flickered several times, flashed, then went black. Suki checked the other cameras. Nothing. All recording appeared to have suddenly been terminated.

A wave of nausea passed over her, and her skin was flooded with goose pimples. “Okay. I think it best we go now.” She said, evidently scared, and turned to face Gray. A second, stronger wave of sickness hit her, moving up from her stomach and into the back of her throat. Her eyes fell only on the deserted bridge, and the silent computer terminals. Gray was nowhere to be seen.

Suki moved from the bridge to the corridor, and ran to the elevator – it was still at her level, so unlikely Gray had used it. She ran on to a door marked ‘Crew – Level 1: Mess Room’, pressed the access panel and passed through the sliding doors. The mess was not dissimilar from that on the Herbert and Carter: the cold, industrial fittings of the cobra’s main communal area now seemed both extremely attractive and light-years away. There was no sign of anyone, though the mess room was in even more of a state than she had expected for a vessel crewed by thirty miners. Her heart skipped and another wave of nausea hit her: several smeared red hand prints could be seen around the room – the main table, bar and an open doorway marked ‘Crew 1 – Utility Area, Sick Bay, Bunk Room’ all bore signs of what appeared to be blood.

She yelled: “Gray?? Gray?!” but what came out was more an expulsion of panicked air than an audible cry. She was moving towards the open doorway, when a voice crackled over her radio: “Suki and Gray! you are to abandon Petra immediately! Head straight back to the Herbert & Carter – your mission there is aborted” The wave of nausea passed from the back of her throat into her head and she began to feel dizzy and faint. She felt she might vomit. She leaned against the table and began breathing heavily in and attempt to compose herself. She pressed the ‘call’ button on her radio “ Philips! Heard and understood: just one problem: it’s Gray – he’s gone!”

“Gone?! What do yo…” his reply was cut off mid-way as the cockpit of the cobra lit up red, and a screeching blast of high energy lasers seared across Herbert and Carter’s fore-shields.

“Hold Fast”! came a clipped order from the pilot’s seat, and Sol rolled the craft whilst pumping fuel into the witch-injectors. The cobra leapt into action, and the anaconda shrank rapidly in the rear view scanner. A ‘V’ shaped vessel shot past the cockpit transparency. Seconds later, a second crash of laser fire hit their rear shields, followed by a third on their starboard side.

“Shit! There must be three of them!” yelled Philips.

“Five” I’m afraid, replied Sol.

The fourth blast came in hardest yet. Philips had not yet taken his seat in the co-pilots chair, but remained instead transfixed by the developing hostilities, clinging to the back of it. As the laser-fire crashed upon their vessel, he was thrown across the cockpit; cracking his head on the sidearms locker, was knocked unconscious.

“Philips!” Screamed Sol. Swinging momentarily away from her console, she grabbed Philips roughly by his suit and with some effort threw him into the co-pilot’s chair. “Well, This gets better and better”. She said to herself, and rolled the Cobra in to engage its first target.

4.

Gregory Rage stumbled drunkenly through what, unknown to him, was bunkroom 1. The metre-square glass doors to the 16 sleeping capsules were racked three stories high to his left, and a lift marked ‘Sick Bay’ was situated to his right, though he had no cognition of either of these features. He didn’t even remember where he was – just that he had to get away from his present surroundings, in particular the gruesome scene that he had just witnessed in the previous room. He staggered to the next exit and stabbed at the panel to open the doorway. He held his hand up to his face as he did so: “What’s happening to me!?” He said as he observed the skin, which appeared to be bubbling. His voice was quivering.
The sliding doors parted in front of him. He forgot about his hand. His world had become a blur – he didn’t recall what had happened to Suki. Gray had become totally fixated on keeping in motion. “Got to get out” he spoke out loud, the indiscernible features of his surroundings were morphing into one another. Crashing into the next doorway that appeared before him, he stabbed at the wall with his forefinger several times before contacting with the entry panel. The doors slid open. He registered only a flash and an extreme – his body didn’t even have time to decide whether it was hot or cold. He was thrown 10 metres backward across bunkroom 2, and was dead before he hit the opposite wall.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Suki Howe spent several seconds staring at for the intercom, speculating what fate had befallen Philips and Sol, who had just been abruptly cut off, and were now not responding. This was getting very bad. Then she heard the blast that (unbeknownst to her) had killed Gray. It dragged her attentions away from the intercom, and, fueled with adrenaline, she ran towards the open entrance of the Utility Area. What greeted her was a scene that dwarfed the few smearings of blood in the Mess Room. She noted at least five corpses bearing serious burn wounds that she surmised came from heavy weaponry.

Suki stared, petrified, for several seconds – she had never seen a dead body before, let alone five that appeared to have met a particularly violent end. Allowing the shock to sink in, she granted herself a few moments of fear, panic and disgust, then drowned all emotions under a layer of pragmatic survival instinct. She knew that there was no way she was going to move on otherwise.

Gathering herself, Suki drew the sidearm from the ankle-holster around her left leg. She had only ever fired it during Z & R’s compulsory training sessions. Holding the Brett & Lin 184 pistol in front of her, she pressed on to bunk room 1, in search of Gray. The second she entered, her heart jumped several times in rapid succession. On this occasion, the cause was external and purely physical. Half a second later, she collapsed to the floor unconscious, as the stun gun bearing, white-coated assailant approached her motionless body with caution.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Any seasoned combateer knows that hesitation and indecision will quickly end their careers in a cloud of super heated metal fragments and plasma, which is why, when the target lock identified the vessel which the Cobra now accelerated towards as a ‘Z&R Viper Defence Craft’ Solakiki Miz-Miz had few qualms about engaging. Whilst a fellow vessel of her employer, there was clearly something not right here: Petra’s ‘escorts’ had not responded despite numerous attempts to communicate with them, and it must have been very clear to them that they were ‘frendlies’ before they had attacked. They had every intention, for whatever reason, of destroying her craft. “Don’t think, just do”, she said to herself.

As the Cobra and Viper sped towards each other, she flung the Herbert & Carter into a spin, and as soon as she was in range, opened fire. The military lasers made a high pitched din, accompanied with a satisfying grind of lasers-on-shields, and then bare hull. The Viper responded, scoring a couple of minor hits to the Cobra’s front shields. At 350 metres, she unleashed a hardened missile, satisfied that the Viper was now sufficiently drained of shields for the missile to be a guaranteed killer. At 200m she swung the cobra up and over the craft, and watched the cloud of debris fill the rear view monitor. “One down” she congratulated herself, and flicked the cobra toward the next nearest target.

The four remaining craft were bearing down on her, but Sol was in luck: the next target was some distance from the main group of Vipers. She was able to unleash a three-second blast of laser fire into the craft’s port side, and the viper was unable to respond. She accelerated over the vessel, and let off a stream of rear laser fire. By now, the three remaining vipers had joined the fray, and the Cobra was receiving short blasts of laser fire to its shields from several directions, but none of which made sustained contact. She new that she had to get out of this situation fast – but was confident she could finish off the viper that she had already engaged. She moved in for the kill, and hit her target with several more seconds of fire: the viper turned and sped towards her, firing – the joust was abruptly brought to an end as both vessels turned in the same direction at the last moment, and the badly damaged viper clipped the belly of the Cobra, and was promptly destroyed. “Shit!” yelled Sol. Her shields read critical, and she had received a warning that her communications systems were damaged. Laser fire began to rain down on her from the remaining vipers, and Sol made evasive manoeuvres. ‘ECM Damaged’ flashed another warning. “Please, just not the witch injectors!” pleaded Sol. She fired up the injectors, and began to retreat. What now… She studied the nearby systems, and thanked her lucky stars that there was a system - Laenin - in close hyperspace range. She kept firing the injectors, the vipers slowly gaining on her, executed the jump sequence, praying to something that the vipers would not follow her through the wormhole.

“I’m so sorry, Gray and Sukes. You’re gonna have to hold out there for a couple of days” she said to no one. Her primary concern at the moment was for her, Philips and the Herbert and Carter, that was about to be blasted to pieces. The Vipers had shown no interest in engaging Petra, and she felt that Suki and Gray had a fair chance. She, on the other hand, didn’t: at least if she stuck around here any longer.

The Wormhole appeared, and the Cobra vanished from the viper’s scanners, leaving a flashing purple signpost for them, which Miz-Miz prayed they would not follow.

Arriving in the Laenin system, Sol began accelerating randomly away from her point of entry. Her ultimate target was the sun of that system, so she could scoop much needed fuel, but that would be in the exact trajectory that the Vipers would look for. She flew for several hundred kilometres – no one appeared to be following. Odd, since the Vipers seemed so intent on destroying her. Odd, she reflected, but good.

She waited several minutes, then, turned to her next priority – Commander Philips – who lay unconscious but still breathing in the co-pilots seat next to her.

Sol was no nurse. “WAKE UP! “ she shouted at Philips, shaking him. A dreary voice came from her commander.

“Sol? Wow - do I feel sick. I remember bits of it though. Think I’ve been passing in and out of consciousness for the last few minutes” Slurred Philips.

“Make that 28 hours! We’ve just hyperspaced to the next system - it’s damn near Xexedi – ‘bout a light year: a red Giant by the name of Laenin, but we’re not out of the woods yet, by a long stretch”. Replied Sol.

Saul Philips began to come back to life. “What?! Suki and Gray?!”

“Look, there was no option, it was that, or pretty much game over. I’m frankly amazed those Vipers – they were the sodding ‘escorts’, by the way – haven’t tailed us: they were properly out for blood. Speaking of which…”

Sol reached for the first aid kit in the sidearms locker.

“Hey, I’m not that badly wouded!” Joked Philips.

“What?” replied Sol.

“The firearms locker – I thought you were going to shoot me!”

Sol laughed, and secured a piece of gauze over the open cut in the back of Philip’s head.

“I’ve no Idea what’s happening, but obviously, the ‘escorts’ are not on our side. We seriously need fuel, and Suki and Gray are still on board that bloody Anaconda. Oh. And our comms and ECM are damaged. Not so worried about the ECM, but the comms are only functioning at relatively short range – no chance of getting command in on this. I hate to usurp your position, but here’s what we need to do: do a sun scoop, return to Xexedi, and pick up Suki and Gray – Oh – there are still three Vipers at large, but a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do, hey?”

“Sol” said Philips, “that’s pretty serious stuff! – I don’t doubt you but…”

“Look. We have one option. That is to go back to Xexedi and fetch those guys, come what may. Besides, I’m ready for those bastard Vipers now – got two of them even when we were ambushed”.

The rapport between them had started to re-emerge. “You let them ambush you!?” taunted Philips.

“Yes. Embarrassing. Don’t you remember?”. Came Sol’s clipped reply.

“We have to go NOW!” She added.

“Well, if you put it like that…”

Sol cut him off: “I do. We’d better make for that sun and get some fuel”.


5.

The two images floating in front of her finally became one, and as the diplopia faded, Suki Howe slowly began to remember snippets of her last few moments of consciousness. “What is this place?” she remarked, leaning up from the bed in which she found herself, and felt a sudden snagging in her left arm, which, on inspection, turned out to be the tube of an intravenous drip. “What the…”

“Lie back for a couple of minutes – I’ve just revived you” The softly spoken but compelling voice came from behind her. Suki followed its command, and a few moments later a tall – even by Suki’s standards - dark haired figure in a white coat appeared in her field of vision. She felt groggy. “What’s happened?” Another memory flashed to mind. “Gray!” she sat bolt upright, lucid and with sudden clarity. “It’s Gray – he was with me: we came to find out what was happening here, we couldn’t find anyone on board, then Gray was missing, an explosion, then…”

“ You’d better lie back”. This is going to take some explaining… Your name’s Ms Howe, right?
“Yes – Suki” she spoke apprehensively. Her face was contorted with confusion.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“At least we got away with our heat-shielding” Sol said as she twisted the Herbert & Carter away from the wide arch-shaped segment of the colossal red globe that had been filling the lower half of the cockpit transparency for the last ten minutes. “That was some scrap with those Vipers”.

Philips remained silent. The pain in his head had turned from a sting into a dull ache.

Sol focussed on her console. “Lets do this” she stated.

Philips nodded. “Agreed” he confirmed.

She dragged the cursor on her console back to Xexedi, and initiated the jump sequence.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Suki was shaken, and had just recovered from a bout of tears. Gray’s death perhaps shouldn’t have come as such a surprise to her, given the scenes locked in the last few moments of her memory before waking up in the bed in which she now sat. But, reason meant nothing – emotion had overcome her, as the stranger in front of her informed her that he had observed her friend’s corpse, and that he was very, very dead.

She let out a long breath, and with it slowly began to escape the emotional overload, and consider things rationally.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The white-coated figure had explained that he had been taking refuge in the sick-bay (a ‘secure area’) – where Suki now found herself – after a serious, violent ‘incident’ had taken place involving a number of the crew members. He’d heard the explosion come from the deck below, gone to investigate – armed with only the stun-gun – and found her walking into the utility area brandishing a pistol.

The further he explained the situation which had befallen Petra and her crew, Suki realised that he’d really had no option but to leap to the worst case scenario and stun her. It was shortly after that he had discovered Gray, apparently the victim of a booby-trapped door that lead to Petra’s drive rooms.

Axel Vrest, as the white-coated figure had eventually introduced himself, painted a picture of the last two weeks. It verged on the apocalyptic. She put his age at around 30 – a couple of years older than her: pretty young for a doctor, if that was indeed his profession. Suki noted the three diamond studs above his left eyebrow – very similar to her own, and suggestive of his being from her home planet – Celabile. A small - but wealthy - population of human colonials lived on the planet - a corporate state, on generally good terms with the far greater population of blue rodents who had their home there. The diamond studs were a typical gift of 'adulthood' given to the offspring by most of the more affluent parents on Celabile.

“It’s like nothing I’ve seen previously. And you’re a scientist, yes?” Suki nodded. “Sorry – I took the liberty of running the name on your suit through Z & R’s staff database“. Axel went on: “You’ll understand this is theory, but based on my observations – particularly those of the crew that I brought up here and sedated”.

Axel gestured to the two miners lying in the beds opposite - “I believe that the ore taken from the asteroids in this system contained a particularly malign virus – one that has attacked the nervous systems of those that were in contact with it, and placed us in the situation that you find us”.

Axel went on “It seems there are essentially three phases: the primary phase is recoverable: It sends the individual into a mildly euphoric state initially, but within minutes, this gives way to paranoia, hallucinations, indescribable panic…It’s easily treated, even at that point, with sedation and adrenaline – which is how I’ve been treating you”.

“Thanks” said Suki – for want of better words.

“Unfortunately, without treatment, it would seem that the victim lapses into a short, stupefied, state, from which I have been totally unable to revive them from – this is the second stage”

Axel continued. “The tertiary stage is far worse: the individual ‘recovers’ from the stupor, only to become, what appears, to be a slave to the virus” He paused, allowing the gravity of his assertion to sink in.

“The infected individual can be exceptionally aggressive and an idea fixation ensues where he – or she – is totally obsessed with destroying any ‘non carrier’ of the virus. Interestingly – from a purely scientific view, you understand – the ‘victim’ seems to retain the ability to perform complex physical and mental tasks – fly a space craft, handle a weapon, booby trap a door and so forth”. Axel went on: “What is particularly scary is that for periods, it appears that the victim is able to act virtually normally, though perhaps in a more cold, clinical manner than would be typical”.

Suki nodded. Axel Vrest struck her as the kind of man who knew his job well, but didn’t let it overtake him: he’d remained calm and unexcited as he described his ‘theory’. He displayed a maturity beyond his years.

“Take a look at this”.

Axel placed a slim VDU in front of her, and played a short piece of footage that appeared to come from the doorway leading to the Petra’s bridge. “This was taken by one of the security cameras” Axel explained.

The footage showed two of the crew – miners, probably technicians – approach the doorway, in front of which an officer stood. A short conversation ensued – none of the three men seemed to be behaving irregularly – then, suddenly, one of the technicians thrust what appeared to be a long, thin-bladed knife upwards under the officer’s chin, up to the hilt. The officer convulsed for several seconds, and was then dragged away, out of camera-shot.

“This is one of the last pieces of footage before they entered the bridge, and shut down the security cameras and numerous other systems” said Axel, staring at the footage.

A few moments after recovering from the shock of the footage, Suki spoke: “I remember seeing something odd occurring on the bridge when Gray… she paused for a moment… and I looked at the security footage there. We would have checked more footage, but then Gray bizarrely disappeared!” Suki informed him.

“Well, if either of you had have been in contact with any asteroid ore prior to that you were almost certainly both experiencing the first stages of the virus, if my theory holds true, that is…”. Axel remarked softly, sensing that any talk of her friend was very difficult for her at the moment.

He went on. “In short, the individual is controlled by the virus to do anything within their power to perpetuate its – the virus’ – existence. Unfortunately, the two specimens in front of you on those beds have reached that stage – they were tilting into the stupor phase when I sedated and brought them up here”. Axel gestured to the beds several metres in front of her own – quite an amazing virus, n’es-cest pas? Axel added in a dry, resentful tone.

Axel paused, first bringing his hands to his face with locked fingers together, then extending both index fingers and propping them to his lips. “That’s the my theory, anyway. The practical bit? We seriously need to get off this ship, without encountering any ‘3rd stagers’. I’ve been waiting on that opportunity for the last two weeks…”.

“But there’s no one left here, right?” Suki asked, a shiver running through her body.

“I can’t honestly say. You made it this far. Gray, I’m sorry, didn’t. However, the booby-trapped door to the drive-room would seem to suggest that they – whoever planted the explosive there – did not want people moving into that area, and they may have located themselves there”.

“What for!?” Suki quizzed. I’m no mutineer or anything, but surely it’s best to hold the bridge of a vessel? If they wanted to preserve the virus, why not just take Petra and hyperspace out of here, rather than wait for a massive armed response, which is what there going to get if they don’t hear from us soon!?”

“I simply don’t know”. Axel replied. “Many things like that have crossed my mind and rammed holes in my theory: why didn’t they deliberately infect the Commander and fly the whole ‘operation’ back to our headquarters, or better still, a planet. I don’t know exactly how a totally new virus works: I can only theorise”.

Suki sensed the slight tension building. “Okay, I’m with you – the bottom line is that we need to get out of here: I’ve got friends - our fellow employees - in a Cobra waiting – they’ll be wondering what’s going on”.

“I hope they’re patient – you’ve been sedated for two days!”

“Wow. This gets better”. Suki said in a tone that seemed reminiscent of the sort that Sol would have adopted if she were in Suki’s place right now.

Suddenly, a crackled, unclear voice then filled the sick-bay.

“It’s the short range comm!” Axel shouted

The message finally became clear – a clipped, female voice sounded through the speaker: “This is Miz-Miz of the Z&R Herbert and Carter – respond please”

“It’s Sol! They’re here!” shouted Suki, overjoyed.

Seconds later, a further, unfamiliar male voice sounded over the intercom by the lift positioned in the middle of the sick-bay. “This is Z&R Rescue Unit 16 – please lower the lift”

“Well, it’s like interplanetary shuttles! You wait days and then…”

Axel cut her off mid sentence: “Wait – what if they are no ‘rescue crew’ but 3rd stagers – remember the footage I showed you outside the Bridge?”

“You think? What option do we have though – we’ve got to leave this place by that lift whatever we do!” replied Suki.

“Not entirely so. I took this from Gray – I’m sorry, but I thought it may be useful” Axel held up the cylinder. In marked, chipped black lettering, was written ‘Z & R FLEET: BLUEPRINTS’.

“I’ve had a look at these whilst you were sedated: they show detail of the crawl space and access hatches: there’s one here” he gestured to a grill on the sickbay wall. “According to these, we can get to the comms room from here via the service spaces: it’s a mission, but it’ll bring us out just above the escape-pod bay: technically, we can drop out of Petra from one of those”.

“Repeat: this is Z&R rescue unit 16 – lower the lift” the same voice, now more demanding, crackled over the sickbay's’ intercom again.

Suki and Axel looked at each other. The atmosphere in the sickbay was one of two people who wished that someone older was present to make the decision for them.

“Look”. Said Axel. I’m going to stick my neck out here: If they are a genuine ‘rescue party’ – which I doubt, given that they made no attempt to contact us from whatever craft they were travelling to Petra in via the short-range comms - as your friends have just done - then they’re not going to abandoned us just because we’ve crawled to the comms room. Alternatively, they are infected and it's lights out for us should we let them up here”. He paused for a moment. “Either way, it’s a win-win for us to take the service hatch – it could avoid us meeting a – very – nasty end”.

“OK. I’m convinced. We’ll take that bloody hatch. Just get this drip out of me!”.

Axel walked to the short-range comms console. “This is Axel Vrest, Serving Doctor of Z&R Enterprises, Petra – little time to explain, but heard and understood – on our way to you now: look for an escape pod or two, and on no account attempt boarding!”

He moved away from the console without waiting for a response, and obliged in removing the drip from Suki Howe’s arm.

With a sudden burst of energy, she swivelled both legs out of the bed, and was on her feet, tugging on her heavy boots.

They made straight for the service grill, as the intercom by the lift crackled again, and a now angry voice was heard: “RESCUE 16! RESPOND IMMEDIATELY!”

[Cody]

I like this... it's a very good start, Pansen.

[TGHC]

Nice one Pansen, this could be the basis of a mining mission.

[DaddyHoggy]

Nice.

As TGHC - these are the types of stories that inspire OXP/D/Zs

can I suggest: “No – he’ll be fixing that bloody aircon in the Mess again."

Since the Mess is a location and therefore a name, and it made my brain stutter as I read it as I presumed it was talking about the aircon being in a mess and then the sentence didn't make sense...

[Pansen]

Thanks for the comments, guys - will try and get the next chapter up ASAP - it's pretty much done already.

Will def sort out the 'Mess';-) - thanks DaddyHoggy - think there will be a few bits of tidying up like that to do.

Oh yes - is simply copying and pasting the best way of putting stuff up here, or is it possible to attach files? Just that the presentation looks a bit better with the text centered, headings in bold etc - pretty minor issue, though.

Thanks again.

[Commander McLane]

Oh yes - is simply copying and pasting the best way of putting stuff up here, or is it possible to attach files?

No attaching files, I'm afraid. But you can of course upload a PDF somewhere and then post the link here.

Has the disadvantage of forcing the potential readers to go an extra step, though.

If you only want big and bold headlines, that's what the and [size=] tags are for.

[ClymAngus]

Ooooo, a very good tried and tested ship/colony/patrol not responding beginning. This can go in so many fun and interesting directions;

Parker: If they find what they're lookin' for out there, that mean we get full shares?
Ripley: Don't worry, Parker, yeah. You'll get whatever's coming to you.

[Pansen]

Thanks for the comments!

Just added the draft of Chp 2 to my first post, and did a couple of minor edits to Chp 1.

Cheers

[Ganelon]

Great job! Characters are interesting and engaging. Descriptions of ships, gear and actions fill in a good mental picture without being too obvious. It catches interest and holds it well. I like it!

[Pansen]

Thanks Ganelon - Maybe a while before I get the next Chapter posted - I have a busy couple of weeks coming up. The rest of the story is planned out well, but just a skeleton at the moment!

[Capt. Murphy]

Very nice...I like a good mystery....looking forward to part 3.

[UK_Eliter]

I like the story! One thing, though: you seem to have mistaken the meaning of 'candid'. It means the opposite of what you think it does. Also, you've left a few characters uncapitalised that should - because they start sentences - be capitalised. Also: “Odd there’s only evidence of mining activity on this rock” needs a comma, or (better) a dash or a semicolon, after, 'Odd'. (But - to respond to an earlier comment - 'mess' should not be capitalised. Yes, it is being used to name a location - but so what?)

[Disembodied]

(But - to respond to an earlier comment - 'mess' should not be capitalised. Yes, it is being used to name a location - but so what?)

True, it shouldn't take a capital, but DH is right, "mess" is liable, here, to trip up the reader's brain ... a better solution might be to call it – here, at any rate – the messroom (or have Gray fix the aircon in the galley, or the bunkroom, or maintenance duct three, or wherever, instead).

[Pansen]

Thanks again for the comments - hope to get part 3 up over the weekend, but will see how it goes...

think I mean 'guarded', not 'candid' - embarrassing!

Thanks so much for the suggestions - will certainly be making some edits to this.

[Pansen]

Just added part 3. Sorry for the delay... Still have to make quite a few edits to the previous parts to tidy things up, methinks...