11
Carrie was too wired to sleep. She just couldn’t get her brain to switch off. It was 1930 and she knew they’d be up again soon to prepare for the station boarding. She kept thinking back over the day: the team exercise that morning, what she did right and what she did wrong; the afternoon prepping the weapons with McKinley. All things considered, it had gone relatively smoothly. He spoke to her only when it was work related, but at least he wasn’t arguing with her anymore. Although she’d been tempted to take a verbal swipe at him after Harris’s visit, she chose to bite her tongue instead. It seemed to work, as he didn’t take a swipe at her either.
Her mind rehashed the pre-board physical with Doc. The visit had been fairly brief and there hadn’t been much time for chatter; a quick rehash of the morning’s exercise, an inquiry about McKinley’s behavior, more tips for keeping healthy on the ship and that was it. Although she recalled feeling a little strange during her visit. She’d worn the boring bra which she should’ve been pleased about, but found herself wishing she’d opted for the push-up instead. She felt like she had a reputation to uphold now. She recalled the close proximity between them when he ran the tests. She knew it would’ve been the same for everyone, but couldn’t help thinking about it nonetheless. She recalled how warm his hands were as they brushed her skin; placing and removing the armband and discs. She thought about his brown eyes, the way they smiled at hers, along with his pearly white teeth.
Then she recalled the crew’s mealtime during which she noticed the edginess had increased among them again. Colt had made a good effort to keep conversation going, questioning the guys about some of the other missions the Aurora had been on. Brown told of their last mission to disband a group of rebels who’d staged a mutiny onboard a cargo ship just off Earth. There’d been five men involved and three were taken alive. McKinley had killed one of them, wounding another two, and Carter had taken out the other. They were young guys looking to make a quick buck by hijacking a cargo ship, and actually thought they would get away with it.
Smith had talked of some of their other missions. One where they went to the rescue of a small tourist ship that had been attacked by pirates, lost all power, and was floating toward The Belt. Another where an ex-UNF pilot was caught smuggling people from Earth to colonies on both the Moon and Mars. Louis told of an encounter where an exporter was using slave labor to work his cargo dock on Station Magellan. The guy had strong underworld connections and was also running illegal UNF weapons to the various colonies. The Aurora had shut him down.
All in all, it appeared that controlling mutinies and space pirates were their main source of employment. Carrie wondered whether pirates had taken over the Darwin?
She rolled over in her bed and watched Colt. The corporal seemed to be fast asleep and Packham’s even breathing indicated that she was too. Carrie decided to go for a walk, thinking it might help her relax knowing that everyone else was asleep. She pulled herself out of bed quietly, not wanting to disturb the other women, then dressed but left her hair hanging loose, and exited the room.
She figured she’d head toward the mess hall or flight deck. If anyone was awake, they’d surely be there. As she turned the corner into the main corridor, she noticed Doc’s office door was open. She meandered off in that direction and stuck her head around the doorway. Doc was sitting back in his chair with his feet crossed over up on the desk, nibbling at the e-pen in his mouth, completely engrossed in something he was reading on an e-file pane. She decided not to disturb him, but as she turned to leave, he saw her.
“Corporal Welles … can’t sleep?”
She shook her head, leaning against the doorway. “Looks like you can’t either, sir.”
He removed the pen from his mouth and looked at his watch “Yeah, but I’d better try and get some soon. Time’s run away from me.” He rested the pane in his lap and looked up at her again. “You know I can’t give you anything for it now or you’ll still be asleep when we’re trying to board.”
“That’s okay. I was hoping a little walk might help.”
He nodded.
“Sorry to disturb your reading.” She motioned to the e-file in his lap. “You seemed pretty enthralled.”
He ran his fingers down the screen of the pane, closing it. “Just some science papers.”
“You reading them to put you to sleep?” she smiled.
“Give me nightmares more like,” he muttered.
Carrie shot him a confused look. “So, how’d your transmission go?” she asked curiously.
“Good. My folks are all good. Yours?”
“Alright. My father was trying to squeeze me for information.” She laughed to herself. “How do your folks feel about your line of work? I suppose they must be used to the ‘final’ transmission by now.”
“Yeah, they’re used to it. I’ve been doing this for a while and so far I’ve always made it home,” he said.
“Are you the first one in your family to do this kind of stuff?”
He nodded. “Technically. My dad did some training when he was younger, but he never went on any missions.”
Carrie allowed her curiosity to get the better of her, and continued to probe. “Any brothers or sisters?”
Doc nodded again. “Two brothers. One older, one younger.”
“Oh, middle child, Doc?” Carrie teased.
Doc gave a sharp laugh. “This coming from an only child!”
Carrie felt herself blush. “You got me there.” She quickly tried to take the spotlight off herself. “So, what do your brothers do for a living?”
He tapped the pen on the file in his lap, eyeing her curiously, “The older one, John, is a lawyer and the younger one, Ben is a pro ice hockey player.”
“Are you serious? A lawyer, a doctor and a pro ice hockey player in the one family? Your parents did something right.”
Doc smiled to himself. “Yeah. We were pretty lucky. We had a good home, and good genes.”
Carrie smiled and wondered whether Doc’s brothers had his good looks as well. “So, does medicine run in the family at all?” she continued, trying to shake off the feeling that she was turning into Colt with all the questions.
“My mum was a GP, then she stopped and had us kids, and my parents opened up a bed and breakfast lodge in Colorado. They’ve been doing that ever since.”
“She doesn’t practice anymore?”
“She’s continued doing a little temp work here and there to keep up her license. My dad’s an accountant. He does that from the lodge.”
Carrie thought about this and laughed to herself, tucking her long hair behind her ear.
Doc smiled and shot her another curious look. “What?”
“I was just thinking about Carter’s ‘snowflake’ comment.”
Doc’s mouth quirked a little. “Alright, and what about you, then? Tell me about your dad.”
Carrie looked at him suspiciously. There was something about the way he asked her, like he knew already.
“What about my father, sir?” she eyed him carefully.
“Well, he’s a soldier, right?” He tapped the pen on his thigh.
“He’s retired.”
Doc nodded. “And what about his career before that?”
Carrie eyed him again for a moment, then narrowed her eyes. “You know, don’t you? Smith told you, didn’t he?”
Doc shot her a confused look. “Told me what?”
“About my father.”
“Told me what about your father?”
“Why haven’t you asked about my mother?” she asked, leaning off the doorway.
Doc paused for a moment. She could see his mind was ticking over. “Okay, what does your mother do?”
Carrie paused a moment, her own mind ticking over. He was playing dumb. Suddenly she clicked. “Right. Smith doesn’t know about my mother, so if he didn’t tell you, you must’ve read it? How did you know that I was an only child? You read it in my file, didn’t you?”
“Read what, corporal?” he smiled.
“You know what I’m talking about,” she smiled back.
Doc laughed and held his hands out, questioning. “Know what?”
They looked at each other, a standoff to see who would fold first. Damn! She thought. I forgot he was a good poker player!
She relented and sighed. “You know that my mother’s dead, that’s why you didn’t ask about her. And you know that my father’s a … was … a colonel, an ‘Original’, because you wanted to rub it in, didn’t you?” she challenged.
He looked at her, keeping his poker face.
“Didn’t you … lieutenant,” she repeated.
He paused for another moment, then gave in, nodding. “I might’ve read it in your file.”
“I knew it!”
“So, Smith knows, huh?” he grinned.
“He saw the name come up when he punched in the transmission code. He’s been sworn to secrecy, though, as are you,” she pointed at him.
“Have I said a word so far, corporal?”
Carrie folded her arms. “Not that I know of.”
“Look, I understand about you not wanting to tell the guys. My lips are sealed.” He held up the e-pen and mimicked pulling a zip across his lips. They stared at each other for a moment, then he put the end of the pen back to his mouth and simply said, “Miss Snowflake.”
She tried to hold it in, but a smile broke out on her face, bringing laughter with it. She brought her hand to her mouth to cover it. Doc smiled back at her, then glanced over her shoulder and suddenly straightened his face, cleared his throat and removed his feet from the table, sitting upright.
“Captain,” he said.
Carrie looked over her shoulder at Captain Harris standing in the doorway. She quickly stood aside for him.
“Am I interrupting something?” Harris asked.
Doc shook his head, putting the file that had been on his lap onto the table.
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping, Corporal Welles?” Harris stared down at her.
“I tried captain, but I couldn’t,” she said.
“Well, I suggest you try harder,” he said flatly.
“Yes, sir,” she nodded. She shot Doc a glance, then headed for the door.
*
Harris stared Doc in the eye as he walked into the room. “You finished with those papers yet?”
“Yes, sir.” Doc handed back the e-file pane.
“And?”
“And … you’re right. He does seem a little obsessed with all things dark and torturous, but I guess that’s why Hell Town’s as successful as it is. He knows how to fuck with people and push their buttons. Break their will, as the case may be.”
Harris nodded. “Keep this,” he held up the e-file, “in mind when we board tonight. If it’s not a technical difficulty, there might be something useful here. God knows what study he’s working on now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Harris turned and headed for the door. When he reached it he looked back at Doc. “Your office isn’t for social calls, Doc. You wanna have a conversation, you save it for the mess hall. Understood?”
Doc looked up at him and nodded. “No problem.”
As Harris left he called out over his shoulder. “Clock’s ticking on your sleep time, Doc!”
“Yours too, Saul!” he called back.
Harris smiled at the comment, heading toward his quarters. As he walked along, he thought about what he’d just seen in Doc’s office. He told himself they were just talking and there was no need to be concerned. But he’d heard the sound of her laughter and saw the smile on Doc’s face as he looked at her, and it did concern him. It was only friendly banter at the time, but Harris knew if he didn’t control the situation, it could spiral.
Doc was never shy of female attention, Harris knew that. But he also knew that Doc wasn’t the kind of guy to be an asshole about it, either. Sometimes he was just too friendly for his own good. Unfortunately, Harris also knew the type of woman who attracted Doc’s attention, and if he wasn’t mistaken Welles could fit the profile. She was cute, and she had a certain strength of spirit about her that might just spark his interest.
Harris sighed. That was always a risk with co-ed teams; it was human nature. But if his team was to run efficiently, there had to be strict boundaries. He made a mental note to watch them both closely from here on in. He couldn’t allow this to be anything other than friendship.
*
At 2120 Harris made his way to his office.
He’d managed to get about an hour of shut-eye, albeit with more confusing dreams of Sibbie and Etta, their eyes boring holes into him as Sibbie clutched that phone, telling him “something’s wrong!”. It ended with him waking abruptly again, sitting bolt upright in bed and calling out “Holly-Hope!” It was the name Sibbie used to call his sister. Her birth name was Holly, but for whatever reason, Sibbie added on the “Hope”. He hadn’t heard the name since Sibbie had passed, and thought it odd to have resurfaced all these years later.
He shook their faces from his mind, because right now they were crowding it and he had to get moving. He was due to have his final briefing with Command at 2130. He entered his office, walked straight to his coffee station and poured himself a long black. He took a sip, then moved over behind his desk and logged into the Command portal.
Sitting back in his chair, he waited for the system to connect. It beeped and the screen revealed Colonel Isaack and Professor Martin.
“Captain Harris,” Isaack greeted him.
“Colonel Isaack, Professor Martin,” he returned.
“So I believe you’re on target to board at 2330. Is that correct?” Isaack asked authoritatively.
“Yes, sir, we are on target for that time. Have you managed to make any contact with the Darwin as yet?”
“Negative, Captain Harris. We are still in blackout with the station.”
“You’ve found no-one else who picked up the comms, as we did?”
“That’s a negative, captain.”
“And you have no other information to give me?”
“Not at this time,” Isaack said firmly.
Harris looked over at Professor Martin. “And you still can’t advise me as to just what sort of programs the Darwin is running?”
Professor Martin pushed his glasses higher on his nose, shaking his head. “Unfortunately not, Captain Harris. That still remains classified.”
“I read some papers that Professor Sharley released, his studies on human and animal behavior involving the great predators of the animal kingdom and serial killers. He has a keen interest in some pretty dark stuff.”
Professor Martin thought about this for a moment. “Well, er, yes, I guess he does, albeit in a scientific capacity. He’s a psychologist by trade, an expert in human behavior. So that would be a fair statement, Captain Harris.”
“So, the UNF put a psychologist in charge up there, in charge of biological weaponry?”
“That’s correct,” Martin gave a single nod. “When dealing with biological weaponry, one must ensure the right people are involved, and no-one knows this better than a psychologist.”
Harris thought for a moment. “So, you’d suggest we take all possible precautions for the boarding?”
Professor Martin nodded. “That would be a wise move, yes. Definitely masks and breathing apparatus to be on the safe side.”
“Captain Harris, what is your plan for the boarding party?” Colonel Isaack interjected.
“I’ll be taking the full team aboard, colonel, except my pilots, of course.”
“And except the female recruits,” Isaack stated firmly.
“Yes, colonel, and except the female recruits. Although I ran a training exercise today and Welles, in particular, did very well. I would like the opportunity to test her out in a live situation, sir.”
“And perhaps one day that opportunity will come, Captain Harris, but for now, she is to remain on the ship. Once we’re sure the Darwin is stable, I will issue the order to let them board. Until then, your order remains the same. I hope we’re clear on this, Captain, because I do not want to have this conversation for a fourth time. Are we clear?”
Harris was disappointed by the order, but nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Captain Harris,” Martin began, “when you dock at the Darwin, there is a receiver port that your ship can plug into to access the Darwin’s power and transmit back to Command. It’s rigged separately from the main station’s power, so we’re hoping that you might be able to use it and save your ship’s power stores. If it is working, though, we would’ve presumed that Professor Sharley would have attempted to use it. Regardless, it’s worth a try.”
“I did see that on the plans, professor. My engineer, Staff Sergeant Brown and my comms-tech PFC Smith, will look into that for us.”
Professor Martin nodded. “One more thing, captain. I’d like you to use extreme caution with your weapons. Darwin is a state-of-the-art facility and we’d like to avoid any damage whatsoever.”
Harris stared at the screen for a few moments. “Professor Martin, I will use extreme caution with our weapons, providing my soldiers’ lives aren’t in any danger. If we are at risk, then we’ll do what is necessary.”
“I’m sure it won’t be a problem, captain. You’re a good leader with a great team. Weapons shouldn’t be necessary.”
Harris stared at him. Like hell, he thought.
“Yes, sir,” was what he said, however.
“Well, good luck, Captain,” Isaack said, rounding up the conversation. “Hopefully, this is only a technical difficulty and we can have you back on your leave in no time.”
“Yes,” Martin added, “good luck, Captain Harris. We’ll speak to you again after you board.”
“Will do.” Harris ended the transmission, and sat there staring at the blank screen for a moment, fist to chin, thinking. All the while he tried to ignore that strange feeling swirling in the pit of his stomach again.
*
Carrie made her way with the team to the flight deck at 2215. They were all fairly quiet, except Carter. He was rehashing to Smith a previous boarding the Aurora team did where they came under heavy fire; talking animatedly about explosions and gunfire, laughing about how freaked out they’d been. Carrie met eyes with Doc, who flashed her a smile of hello. She wondered what the captain had said to him after she’d left?
They reached the flight deck and saw Hunter and Packham at the controls. Packham looked concentrated, yet calm. The sergeant was finally going to get to do something other than just observe. Carrie gave her a smile of encouragement. Packham acknowledged it with a subtle nod.
They took their same seats as the launch, Colt and Carrie on the third tier again. Bolkov sat off to the side at the console, observing Packham closely, looking as though he was ready to intervene if she did something wrong. Carter was still talking animatedly with Smith and Louis, while Doc and McKinley were engrossed in a deep discussion about something, which Brown listened to also.
“Almost there, girl.” Colt flashed a confident grin.
Carrie smiled back. Yes!
After a few minutes the captain entered and the team hushed down. He moved to the flight deck console, standing beside Hunter as he looked through the observation window.
“How are we tracking, sergeant?” he asked.
“The target has appeared on our radar and we’re on time for an ETA of 2327.” Hunter pointed to a radar screen located between him and his co-pilot. From where Carrie sat, she could just see the target blinking at the top of the screen.
So that’s the Darwin. Goosebumps erupted over her arms.
“Good,” Harris said, then abruptly turned to face the crew. “Okay, listen up. In less than one hour we will be docking at Station Darwin.” He looked around at everyone, making sure they were paying attention, then turned back to Hunter. “Bring up the station’s floor plan,” he ordered.
Hunter went to work and the observation window in front of them glazed over with Darwin’s floor plan. The station was more or less hexagonally shaped and divided into three sections. A main corridor circled the station, splitting each of those sections into two halves.
“There is only one entrance into the station, which is here.” The captain pointed to a doorway to the right of the U-shaped docking bay. “These doors, here and here …” he pointed to a door on the left-hand side of the docking bay and one in a central position “… are emergency exits only. Hunter, I want you and Bulk to keep an eye on them as we go through. You see anybody try to run out, you detain them. I’d be surprised if they’d come out with the Aurora in dock, though.”
“Yes, sir,” Hunter replied, while Bolkov gave a firm nod.
Harris looked back at the rest of his soldiers. “So, we make our way to the entrance and then move through the three sections, clearing and securing them one by one. The first section is made up of the offices and general store; the second section is labs and a bio cell for containment; and the third is the mess hall, rec area, and crew quarters. We will board in a two-team formation. I will lead the first team with McKinley, Carter and Brown. Doc will head up the rear team with Louis and Smith.”
Carrie and Colt glanced at each other.
“We will be boarding in full bio gear,” Harris continued, “which will remain on until Doc confirms it’s safe to remove. We’ve been ordered to exercise extreme caution and only use our weapons as an absolute last resort. This could simply be a technical difficulty, gentlemen. The people on board the station may not be in any danger. However, if this is more than a technical difficulty and they are under threat, I need you to be alert, and not wounding the wrong people or causing any serious damage that could destabilize the station. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Now, remember our training exercise. Remember where you went wrong, and make sure you don’t do it again.”
“Yes, sir,” the men called out.
Harris turned to Hunter again and motioned for him to bring up a different screen, which began scrolling images of the Darwin’s crew. “Familiarize yourself with these faces, gentlemen. They are the Darwin crew and we are to assume they are all friendlies. Do not injure any of these people, unless they try to attack you. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir,” the men replied.
“Excuse me, captain,” Colt called out. “What about us?” she pointed to Carrie and herself.
“What about you?” Harris said with a stone cold look on his face, unimpressed with the interruption.
Colt glanced at Carrie, confused, then back at Harris. “Which team are we in, sir?” she asked.
“Did I call your name out, corporal?”
“No, sir.”
“Then you’re not on a team.”
The rest of the unit flicked their eyes between the two women and Harris.
“You mean we’re not going in?” Carrie blurted, her brow furrowed.
“Very intuitive, Corporal Welles,” Harris said flatly.
Her heart started racing and her mouth went dry. “But, sir, we’ve trained for this. We want to go in. We want to help,” she protested.
“You want to help, Corporal Welles? Stay here and guard the ship,” he said bluntly, then turned his focus back to the men and boomed. “Let’s move out!”
Harris strode up the stairs and off the flight deck looking straight ahead. Carrie watched him, somewhat stunned. She looked back at the men. Carter seemed amused and Louis was smirking. Smith, Hunter, Bolkov and Brown’s faces were noncommittal, but Doc and McKinley looked as confused as Carrie and Colt were. McKinley, in particular, stood out to her. She half expected him to be smirking like Louis, but he wasn’t. He exchanged a look with Doc, but neither said a word, as they began to fall out and follow the captain.
“Good luck, gentlemen!” Hunter called out.
“Yeah, you have fun in the henhouse, Hunter,” Carter called back and then laughed. “We’ll go out and do the real work, eh?”
Hunter flashed him a sarcastic smile and flipped him the bird. “I hope you don’t get left behind, Carter,” then he turned back to the control panel and put on his headset. Packham’s eyes flicked to both Colt and Carrie, but she too turned back to the console and did the same.
As the men departed, Carrie and Colt looked straight ahead. The only one who tried to make eye contact with the women was Doc, but Carrie avoided it. She looked dead ahead out the window, her face completely expressionless, except her eyes, which she knew were colder than ice.
Once they were gone, she glanced at Colt, who sat there jaw clenched, equally unimpressed.
Colt took a deep breath in and exhaled loudly. “I know what you’re thinking Welles,” she said with a hard voice.
“I can’t believe this,” Carrie said.
“I know.”
“What’s the fucking point of being on this ship if we’re not allowed to board,” Carrie said, her voice rising in volume.
“I know!” Colt said again, her voice strained.
Carrie saw Hunter exchange a look with Bolkov, who shrugged back at him.
“I fucking outshoot all of them!” Carrie spat, venomously.
“Welles, just drop it,” Colt said firmly. “There’s nothing we can do about it. Ain’t no point going on.”
Carrie sat back in her chair and folded her arms tightly. “So what are we supposed to do, then?”
Colt looked over at her, eyes as cold as Carrie’s felt.
“Guard the ship,” she said flatly.
*
Harris watched the weapons store become a hive of activity as the men prepped for boarding. McKinley was passing out guns and ammo, scanning each of them as he did. Smith was handing out the comms headsets, and Doc was issuing gas masks with lightweight oxy tanks. As Harris passed out the bullaser vests, he could see Doc trying to catch his eye, but he expertly avoided it. He did not have time to answer his lieutenant’s questions right now.
*
Carrie sat there looking out the window, still seething. Why wouldn’t he let us board? Why would he just leave us out like that?
Suddenly, she saw something twinkle in the distance.
Hunter leaned forward, hit a switch, then spoke into the mouthpiece of his headset. “Captain, we have a visual on the Darwin. Over.”
“Copy that, Hunter.” Harris’s voice boomed over the ship’s speakers. “Can you see any visible signs of damage? Over.”
“Too far out to tell at this stage, captain. I’ll report back in a few minutes. Over.”
“Copy that.”
Carrie unfolded her arms and placed them on the armrests of her chair. As the seconds turned into minutes, the ship flew closer and closer, and the cold gray mass that was the Darwin grew larger and larger.
Hunter hit the switch and once again spoke into his headset. “Captain, we have a clear visual on the Darwin now. There appears to be no structural damage. Over.”
*
Harris walked to the wall and hit the PA button.
“Copy that, Hunter,” he replied, then released the button and turned to stare at each one of his soldiers. “That doesn’t mean shit, gentlemen!”
“Captain, we’re set to begin comms with the Darwin to announce our arrival. Over,” Hunter’s voice rang out over the PA.
“Copy that Hunter. We’re switching to the headsets. Over.”
“Yes, sir,” Hunter answered.
Harris looked around at his men and motioned for them to switch on their comms. They snapped the headset device around their left ears, adjusting the mouthpiece which protruded out from underneath the ear, a small compact camera that sat perched on top of the ear, and the audio earpiece which plugged inside the ear itself.
*
Carrie watched the Aurora’s pilots intently.
“Switch over to headsets,” Hunter ordered Packham, who began flicking a series of switches on the console.
“Headsets are now on,” she replied.
Hunter’s hands danced around the console for a moment. “Starting comms.”
Carrie looked out the window and saw the Darwin continuing to draw nearer, and continuing to grow larger and larger. It almost looked like a large steel shark swimming toward its much smaller prey, the Aurora.
“Space Station Z076, this is UNF Aurora. Do you copy? Over,” Hunter announced.
Static blared back over the speakers, cutting through the stone cold silence.
“I repeat, Space Station Z076, this is UNF Aurora. We are about to dock and board you. Do you copy? Over.”
The static blared again for a few moments. Hunter tried for a third time. Still no response. Nothing, but static.
“Captain, we’re getting no response,” Hunter said into his mouthpiece. “Permission to send our authority codes to dock. Over.”
“Copy that, Hunter. Go ahead. Over,” Harris replied.
*
Harris noted there was silence for a few moments following his instruction. The men shuffled around him, tightening their gear and checking their weapons. Finally Hunter’s voice sounded through their earpieces again.
“Authority codes sent and beacon transmitting a response, captain. Over.”
“Copy that,” Harris replied into his mouthpiece. He started to pace, looking each of his men over, checking their suits and weapons with his eyes, all the while still managing to expertly avoid any eye contact with Doc.
“Remember gentlemen, extreme caution with your weapons. Be alert and be smart about what you do. Know what your target is before you hit it.”
They nodded in response as Hunter’s voice came back over their headsets.
“Captain Harris, our authority codes have been accepted and we are heading in. Over.”
“Copy that, Hunter.” Harris took his gun, held the sight up to his eye and aimed the red laser point on the door ahead. Then he lowered his gun and turned to the men.
“Let’s move out, gentlemen!”
Everyone grabbed their oxygen backpacks in their hands, as Harris led them toward the Aurora’s exit.
*
Carrie watched, absolutely glued to the flight deck.
“Reducing speed. Release the docking lock,” Hunter said into his mouthpiece.
Packham pushed a console lever upward, “Docking lock released.”
“How’s our approach angle?” he asked.
She checked one of the screens on the console. “Approach angle on target.”
“Kill power cells four, five and six,” Hunter ordered.
“Power cells four, five and six are gone,” Packham responded, quickly twisting three dials.
The ship’s drone cut to a medium-level hum.
“Extend the docking lock,” Hunter ordered.
“Docking lock extending.”
Carrie heard a loud mechanical noise, and could feel a slight tremor move through the ship.
*
Harris watched keenly as the men stood by the exit door in their teams, still shuffling, adjusting, stretching.
*
Carrie noticed how large the Darwin was now as it loomed up in front of them.
“Okay, we’re at three klicks,” Hunter’s voice broke the silence. “Kill power cells two and three.”
“Power cells two and three gone,” Packham replied, twisting another two knobs.
The ship’s murmur disappeared, leaving only the slightest of vibrations. A blue ribbon of light shimmered over the Darwin then disappeared, then a large metal door slid open slowly, revealing the inner dock of the station. It was empty.
“The Darwin’s shield is down and we’re at 1500 meters,” Hunter advised. “Is the docking lock lined up to intercept the Darwin’s anchor?”
“Yes, sir,” Packham responded looking at one of the screens in front of her, “Docking lock on target.”
“Kill power cell one.”
“Power cell one is gone.” She twisted the last dial.
The ship felt utterly motionless now, as it floated into the open mouth of the Darwin.
*
Harris noted it was dead quiet. The men eyed each other expectantly. He shook his legs, anxiously waiting for the word. Ready to begin.
*
Carrie saw the docking lock extending out in front of the Aurora, its big claw-like anchor heading for a large metal ring on the wall of the station ahead. She heard an alarm sounding, and noticed the dock’s red warning light flashing overhead, alerting the station to an incoming ship and of the atmospheric danger to the station’s occupants. There was a loud bang and a crunching, scraping sound of metal on metal as the Aurora’s anchor hit its target and locked on with computerized beeps. The arm began to retract as it slowly, delicately, pulled the ship up to the dock’s edge. About fifteen meters from the ring it came to a complete stop.
Both pilots’ eyes and hands were busy, sweeping across the flight deck console in front of them. They flicked switches, hit buttons, turned dials, and read monitors. Carrie heard a loud vibrating noise. She looked at one of the monitors on the flight deck console and saw the Darwin’s mouth closing behind them. It clunked loudly, echoing around the empty dock. There was the sound of a heavy, rushing wind, like a hurricane. The red warning light ceased, so too did the alarm. All fell incredibly silent.
And Carrie couldn’t help but feel a sudden sweeping sensation of being trapped.
*
Harris spoke into his headpiece. “Report, Hunter.”
“Captain, we’ve successfully docked on Darwin,” Hunter’s voice replied. “Initializing decompression now. Over.”
“Copy that, Hunter. Is the station’s ship, the Spector, in dock? Over.”
“Negative, sir. Dock is deserted. Over.”
Harris nodded to himself, then turned and stared hard at his team. “Seconds now, gentlemen!”
He moved closer to the door, gripping his gun tightly in his hands, then he looked over his shoulder for the reassuring sight of McKinley, his right-hand man in the field. They locked eyes and exchanged a subtle nod. They were ready.
*
Carrie sat forward in her seat, watching Hunter and Packham carefully. They were both carefully focused, reading monitors on the console. Hunter then looked at Packham and gave a nod. Packham began to pull a lever down, as Hunter simultaneously pushed another lever upward. There was another loud sound of air rushing, but Carrie felt none on her face. A series of shrill beeps sounded, followed by a long loud one, and the Aurora’s observation window suddenly misted over. The pilots checked their monitors again.
“Internal reading is correct,” Hunter announced, then looked over at Packham.
“External reading is correct,” she replied.
Carrie watched as the covering mist slowly evaporated.
“Captain, the ship has decompressed and is in line with the Darwin. Over,” Hunter announced.
“Copy that, Hunter. Power up the visual comms. Over.”
“Yes, sir,” Hunter said, as Packham reached forward and flicked another series of switches.
The window in front of the two pilots clouded over again and a series of monitors appeared. Some were screening the visuals from the ship’s external cameras, but there was also a screen for each soldier’s headset.
Carrie watched as Harris looked around into McKinley’s camera. “Visual comms are on. Do you receive flight deck? Over,” he said.
“Copy that, captain. Visuals and audio are A-OK,” Hunter replied.
Harris turned to the rest of his men.
“Masks on, soldiers!” he called.
A flurry of movement appeared across the screens as the men pulled the oxygen packs onto their backs and masks over their faces. A spike of tension travelled up Carrie’s spine as she watched them all standing there, masks on and weapons ready. Her eyes then fell to Smith’s camera, as he stood behind Doc. Suddenly, her breathing became shallow.
*
Harris moved over to the Aurora’s door.
“Five, four, three, two, one!” he called, punching the lever hard and swinging his gun up to his face. The door quickly slid open, and he moved to stand on one side, while McKinley took the other. They both scanned the dock with their guns.
*
Carrie, on the edge of her seat, carefully eyed the screens of Harris and McKinley, but it all looked clear. Heart thumping, she watched as Harris ran out under McKinley’s cover, and the rest followed suit.