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In hangar forty-three, a large cargo carrier sat with its loading ramp down. One of the crew members, a Harskan, came down it and checked a fuel line. Apparently satisfied, he disconnected it from the ship and went back inside.
About half a minute passed before some kind of gunboat drifted into the hangar and landed next to the bigger ship. As its landing gear locked in place, a large figure emerged wearing an enclosed black hazard suit and carrying a nasty looking grenade in one hand.
Then from one of the hangar’s two internal entrances, a man came running in with a blaster. The figure in the hazard suit threw the man a spare gas mask and then lobbed his grenade up the cargo carrier’s loading ramp. It exploded on contact and a thick black cloud of gas poured out of the ship and into the hangar.
The pair then charged into the ship, firing several blasts. Then the shorter of the two re-emerged for a moment. He nodded in the direction of the gunboat and it lifted off. Then he went back up the loading ramp and hit the switch to close it.
From within the station, the sound of boots on metal echoed towards the hangar, getting louder and louder until several commandos with large blaster rifles burst onto the deck, firing at specific points on the ship, hoping to hit something that would disable it. However, the great engines of the cargo carrier were already groaning as they lifted its bulky weight off the deck and rotated it towards the airlock. The commandos fired a few more shots, more to vent their frustration than out of any hope of stopping it, and watched as the carrier cleared the hangar.
One of them groaned. “We’re dead.”
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Asten dropped the gas mask on the ground, while Drackson pulled off his helmet. It wasn’t very comfortable, having been made with someone of smaller stature in mind, but it had been necessary. If the cameras had recorded a Harskan making off with the cargo carrier then their phony heist would have been pointless.
“Drackson, Asten,” one of the other Harskans aboard greeted them. “I am Eraehast. I am the captain of this vessel.”
“A pleasure,” Asten said, shaking his hand before Drackson had a chance to reply. He wasn’t sure why he’d felt the urge to get the first word in but he suspected it may have been a reaction to the impotence he’d felt the entire time they’d been in the Harskan sector.
“It’s an honor to meet you,” Drackson told him.
“So,” Eraehast asked, “did our charade go well?”
“I think so,” Drackson replied. “Of course, we can only guess what it looked like on the surveillance cameras but I imagine it was convincing enough.”
“Good.”
Just then, Asten’s communicator beeped. He pulled it out and thumbed it on. “Go, Carla.”
“Asten,” Carla replied, sounding rather panicked. “A Federation warship’s just arrived.”
“Okay. Um... has that other frigate gone yet?”
“Yeah, it made the jump a couple of minutes ago.”
“All right then. You can’t do anything from where you are. Head back to the base and we’ll see you there.”
“You be careful,” Carla replied. With a click, the communicator went silent.
“It seems we’ve got company,” Asten said, turning to Eraehast.
“Sevaerai jaehl-ch'aj laie'fron est chara!” a Harskan shouted from the other end of the ship.
“Karai'esach,” Eraehast called back before looking Asten’s way again. “The pilots have seen it too.” In frustration, he eyed the Harskan Corteks around them. “It is a pity we cannot use these ships. This carrier has little in the way of maneuverability. If we—”
“Don’t worry,” Asten told him with a slight smile. “We’re not exactly alone out here.”
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“There they are,” Captain Merrick said.
“Launch squadron one,” Admiral Roth said.
He watched the viewscreen as the fighters shot towards the cargo carrier. “Flank them but don’t fire on them yet,” he instructed. “They may surrender without a fight and I’d like to take that ship with all its cargo intact.”
The communication console beeped and Captain Merrick reached for it.
“Ignore it,” Admiral Roth told him.
“It’s from the Harrier,” Merrick pointed out.
Admiral Roth nodded. “Yes, I thought it might be. However, I’ll talk to General Navaast later.”
He turned back to the cargo carrier, which was now flanked on both sides by his fighters. “They’ve been rather quiet, haven’t they?”
“Yes, sir,” Captain Merrick agreed.
“What’s the name of the vessel?”
The captain checked his display. “The Nemo'lowae Braec.”
Admiral Roth chuckled.
“What’s that?” Merrick asked him.
“I think our Harskan friends made that up for this mission as a bit of a joke.”
“Oh,” Merrick murmured. Without knowing any Harskan, it was lost on him. “Well, shall I hail them?”
The admiral leaned forward. “Allow me.” He flicked on a communication channel. “This is Admiral Roth of the Sentinel calling the Nemo’lowae Braec. Please respond.”
Hearing no reply, he repeated his message but got the same result.
“Keep a sharp eye on the radars,” he told the bridge crew. “Our friends are not surrendering yet, despite the fact they’re sitting ducks. They must have an ace up their sleeves that we don’t know about.”
“Raptor-7s coming in at three o’clock,” a crew member called out a moment later. “Twelve of them.”
“Alert squadron one to intercept them,” Admiral Roth commanded. “And launch squadron two.”
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“Another group’s heading out to greet us,” Ja’is said over the communicator.
Zak eyed the new fighters warily. They were moving pretty fast and they were breaking off into small groups.
“I see them,” he replied. “Ja’is, see if you can distract them while I go after the first group. Adaria and Layson, cover him.”
The other pilots acknowledged the order and headed off.
Zak shook his head. He’d overheard the transmission from the warship to the carrier and was still somewhat in shock over the fact that the admiral of the Federation navy was out here. He wondered how badly they’d been compromised then shelved the train of thought. The way Asten had told it, the whole charade had been for the benefit of the Harskan leaders so they could at least officially maintain their neutrality. Whether the Federation believed they had any hand in it or not wasn’t his concern.
“Deacon, get behind those three fighters that are pulling away from the carrier,” he said as he noticed that the original group of Wasp pilots weren’t just idly waiting for him.
Then the Wasps scattered. Zak tried to track them but they were giving him and his squadron a hard time. Then there was a burst of static over the communicator and he saw a bright explosion on the viewscreen.
“We’ve lost Charis!”
The voice disappeared in the residual static caused by the explosion and close by, a piece of fuselage tumbled end over end into the dark void.
Zak gritted his teeth, feeling an equal measure of grief and angst with a slight sensation of nausea. This wasn’t the first time he’d lost someone under his command but that didn’t make it easier.
“Zak.” The voice was somewhat distorted but he could still recognize it as belonging to Ja’is. “My quarry is fraternizing with yours and you’ve got one on your tail.”
“I read you,” Zak replied, toggling the image on his viewscreen. “I see him.”
“All right,” Ja’is said with deliberate care. “When I say, break off hard to your starboard side. Ready... go!”
Zak did and a moment later, a piece of debris shot past his port side, flaring briefly before the cold airless vacuum outside extinguished the flames around it.
“Thanks, Ja’is.”
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“Impressive, these pilots, aren’t they?” Admiral Roth commented.
“I think our own are still performing very well,” Captain Merrick replied.
The admiral smiled. “Really, Captain. I haven’t wounded your pride, have I? Yes, our own pilots are performing very well indeed, as you so rightly point out. However, these resistance pilots have a natural flair which is a rare commodity.”
“Although, those Raptor-7s give them something of an advantage too,” Captain Merrick pointed out. “If they had as many pilots to find ships for as we did, they wouldn’t be able to afford them.”
“Yes,” Admiral Roth conceded. “You’re right of course, Captain.”
“Still though, they’ve got a good number of them as it is, don’t they?” Merrick mused. “I wonder how a group of militias formed by deposed Frontier governments can be so well equipped.”
“Some of those Frontier governments were well equipped to begin with,” Roth told him. “And other worlds along the Frontier that haven’t been annexed would be assisting them too, I imagine. At least the ones with enough sense to realize it’s in their interests, at any rate.”
Merrick nodded. Then he saw something on the viewscreen.
“The carrier’s getting away,” he said.
“Yes,” the admiral replied. “Once those fighters appeared, we didn’t really have much chance of stopping it. It’s rather difficult getting a boarding crew through that kind of fighting. And we weren’t really close enough to hinder them ourselves.”
“Well, on the bright side, at least we won’t have to worry about Vendon any more,” Merrick said, quietly enough that no one else on the bridge could hear.
“Yes,” Admiral Roth agreed. “There is that.”
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Several light-years from the station, the Nemo’lowae Braec dropped out of lightspeed and Asten turned to Eraehast. “Well, this is it. Thanks for all your help.”
The Harskan smiled. “That’s all right. We were, as you say in Corsidan, ‘just doing our job.’” He nodded to his companions, who were now leaving the bridge and making their way to the small shuttle that would take them back to the Harskan sector.
“Well, Drackson. Asten,” he said. “Farewell.”
“Helaeshi,” Drackson replied with a slight bow.
He and Asten then went to the bridge.
“Well,” he said as he sat down in the pilot’s chair and looked over the controls, “this doesn’t appear too complicated.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure all the necessary pressure seals were operating; he didn’t want all their new ships to be sucked out into space when the shuttle left.
Just like the airlocks back at the refueling station, the atmospheric seals only gave way to something of appropriate mass that applied enough force, allowing ships to break through but nothing else. However, all ships and stations had the additional support of pressure seals that could be applied anywhere their designers wanted and could prevent anything sliding out accidentally. In the Nemo’lowae Braec, the pressure seals were placed just back from the main launch airlock to create an effective second barrier around the cargo area. While they were in place, anything that slipped through the atmospheric seal would be pushed straight back in again.
Once Drackson was satisfied the seals were all running at optimal capacity, he hit the release for the airlock’s external shield door. There was a hiss from the hydraulics as it slid open and he saw the shuttle flying away on the viewscreen.
Asten gave a sigh of relief. “We did it.”
“Yeah,” Drackson replied. “All right. Let’s head back to the base.”