Livvy, Raif Carson, and Kacie Williams from Engineering ran down the hallway towards the OCSDestiny. "That's three," said Livvy, whose hair was tied back in a tight bun, her fingers were like a master pianist's on her tablet, "They'll only fire on Security and Companionship. Now, we've gotta—" Her tablet made a noise, and the lights flickered. "Fawk! That's the first stage of Lockdown Protocol. I'll need to be up close to get in now, don't worry, lemme see…"
Kacie looked up at the security cameras. "The Commander must've started it by now. Shit, hope she's got this."
"We've got this," said Livvy, without looking up.
"Hold on," said Raif, his lips curled over each other. He came to a screeching halt. "Captain Dacuma's got a gun and… and I don't think he'll go along with us. Protocol is for N&S officers to make for the Destiny in case of a lockdown… y'know, 'The Captain goes down with his ship'."
"We've gotta keep going, c'mon!" said Livvy. She frowned. "Cori can handle him. She's got a gun too."
"What?" said Raif. "Whoa… that's what that was? Pérez kept hinting about—"
"Yeah," said Livvy. They all three kept moving.
"But if she doesn't," said Raif, "you said the turret you put on in the Destiny only hits red and black. What if he puts up a fight, what if—what if he gets a bunch of N&S on his side?"
"You should know we got a lot of N&S on our side," said Livvy. They turned a corner. "I…" She frowned. "I'll add Dacuma to the register on each gun we pass. Just in case."
"What about Kevin?" said Kacie. "We sure just him, Bly and Porter can hold ICC?"
"You know about Plan C, right?" Livvy asked, with a smirk.
"Yeah but… don't we not want it to come to that?" asked the older woman. "Commander Jensen's going to the Destiny anyway, maybe we could—"
"Shh!" Livvy halted the other two at a corner, then peeked around it. "Security. One sec…" She sat on the floor and focused on her tablet. "Raif, can you distract 'em? I need them there for another minute."
Raif breathed in sharply, raised his hands in surrender, and went around the corner. From there he said: "Hey, h-h-help! Captain Dacuma said there's an emergency, I—I gotta get to the Destiny!"
There came the muffled bark of a Security Officer's voice: "Calm down Lieutenant. Have you seen anyone suspicious in here?"
"N—no, I just got back from my rover shift. I'm scared, please Officer, I'm not d—disciplined like you guys are… I was just a trucker back home!"
"Alright, we can escort you to the ship. But you should know, Commander Jensen is—hey! What are you doing!?"
There was a heavy scuffling sound, as Raif Carson 'hit the deck'. Then an electric whir, and two more bodies hit the floor, less willingly. Raif crawled back around, breathing heavily and favoring one arm. "Alright," he said, "let's go."
"…No," said Livvy. "Security shouldn't be out this early. Something's off. I… they'll have called Extraction back by now; that's reinforcements too, for them. I think I should go to the ICC."
"But… if something's wrong," said Kacie, "where'd it go wrong? Auditorium?"
"Fucking communications jam!" Livvy cried. "I should be able to talk to Cori, and Kayla and Kevin right now." She tapped angrily on her device.
Raif stood and cocked his head, pointed one ear around and down the hallways. "Don't hear any more here," he said.
Livvy stopped tapping. "It's… Branford and Johannessen are both in the Auditorium, and only they've got clearance to scramble Security this quick. Something's wrong there… and that's where they're headed!" She stood.
Raif held up two black laser guns. "Livvy, you're still needed at the Destiny. Copies off the Manifest, hacking in for the launch, and now reprogramming for Dacuma too. I can go help at ICC."
Kacie grabbed one of the guns from him. "Not alone. I doubt you can even use these things, 'trucker'." She took aim at a security camera and shot it cleanly into debris.
"Okay, fucking GO!" said Livvy. They took off one way, and she the other.
Security's going to the Auditorium… maybe they're already there. Cori, Manny, Jacques, Tammy, Fred, Mike, Tom and Randy… hopefully more. Shit, how're we gonna get Kayla and Verne out!?
***
The three remaining Security Officers retreated. Along with the two Jacques shot, they'd managed to kill one more, with blunt force. Fred went Ultra Instinct on that piece'a shit, Jacques thought. "They'll regroup," he said to the others. "Sixteen minus three, there's still thirteen left."
Fred had been saying a tearful goodbye to Mike Falworth, who'd taken shots to the chest as they fought their way out. Of the others, only Ellison had received any kind of laser injury: a glancing shot to the shoulder, which mostly just scorched her spacesuit. Fred wiped his tears, muttered: "Kayla said they've got more than sixteen guns. Said protocol's to arm up other people: Companionship, and maybe… some of C&E. Whoever's loyal to the company line."
"How many guns?" asked Ensign Ellison.
"Forty-eight," said Fred. He stood with a grunt.
Lieutenant Pérez picked up gun from one of the fallen security guys. "Forty-five," he said. "And now we're four." Fred and Ellison retrieved guns also; she made sure he got the one from the man he'd bludgeoned.
That one's helmet had broken off in the scuffle; Jacques looked at the man's corpse. Short, straight hair pushed back tight, burly from a well-practiced passion for violence, and neck swollen from what was likely as strong a passion for beer and doughnuts. That's about right, he thought. He'd been firing at the fleeing three while Fred and the others took the man down.
"Alright people, let's go!" he said, and he thought: gotta go fast! with a crooked smirk. They ran on: Fred and Ellison and Porter, Pérez and a man named Anderson from E&R, led by Jacques Delende.
The three regrouped indeed. There were two doors, facing one another from opposite sides of the hall they ran through. These doors opened, and more than three Security Officers popped out (and one armed C&E guy) and sprayed laser-fire on the group. Jacques dove forwards, Ellison dove back, and the rest returned fire, and took what cover they could. Porter wrestled for a gun, then was shot dead by another. Jacques and Ellison killed two, Pérez shot the C&E man. Fred shot the one that Porter had been struggling with, then took a shot to the leg and fell down screaming. Ellison finished off that one, and by the Commander's 'flashlight' Jacques bored a burning hole through the head of the last. Then the survivors: Anderson, Ellison, Pérez, Delende and Wilson, lay panting for a moment; they the only noises.
Jacques jumped up and ran to Fred. "Fred!" he shouted. "Who's got bandages—Pérez!"
Pérez dug into his suit; Fred Wilson cried out, through clenched teeth: "NO! Just keep goin'! I'm good!" He clutched his gun.
Manny Pérez eyed him nervously. He knelt down and pressed a roll of gauze bandages into Fred's free hand, and whispered: "Tourniquet, then cover the hole. Least it's half-cauterized. Good luck." He stood and nodded somberly to Delende.
He spared one look at Porter's corpse, remembered his poem—Time. "Forward!" Jacques shouted. His body was alight with anger; they ran on.
As they ran, Jacques swept the walls of the corridor with his eyes, and the lens end of his weapon. Especially, now, the doors. He knew those ones that'd ambushed them were the same that attacked the Auditorium; one had a characteristic scuffle on his suit-leg from where Fred had bicycle-kicked it. So the rest are further off, he thought, won't know as well which way we're headed. But that was his logical mind; he was running on instinct now. Still, rounding the corner at a three-way intersection, he nearly ran into a rather thick-limbed person, who wore a C&E uniform and brandished a large wrench.
Jacques stopped short, then in shock lowered his weapon. "Suarez!?"
Dani Suarez looked back at him—at all of them—in just as much shock. "Delende? Manny? Hey, what the fuck's…" She stared at Jacques' 'flashlight'. "I saw Kayla's messages… where is she? And Fred, Mike, Livvy… where's Cori!?" Her words became more labored as she spoke; she saw the anxiety on the shared glances of Pérez and all the others.
Jacques stared at her intently. "Fred took a shot to the leg a few minutes back; he's fine, but he wanted us to keep moving. Falworth, Porter and Jensen are dead. Security shot them, and many others."
Suarez staggered. "Mike…" she whispered. Her shoulders sagged. She tried to smile "'Course he'd do what he could for Freddie-boy. That soft old sap. But Cori, you sure she…"
Jacques held up the 'flashlight'. "This was hers. She tried." He frowned and looked away. "…I'm sorry."
Suarez frowned too. "Pfft… t—that's… heh, that's just what I get for winning the damn Dyke Lottery." She scuffed the floor with her boot. "But hey, what about the Big Three? Kev, Kayla—"
"Hey!" came a voice from behind Suarez. Jacques smiled; it was Livvy, running at them with her old tablet in one hand. Anderson seemed pleased to see her too.
Dani Suarez grabbed Jacques' shoulder. "What's the plan," she said, "Commander?"
"We gotta try to get back home, or at least get info out," he said. "The Destiny. Either we get it going, or take out the ship's Voyage Data Recorder, and take it in another ship. Think she's gonna try to make copies, too," he said, nodding at Livvy.
"What are you cucks waiting for!?" Livvy cried as she reached them. "Let's go!" They all ran on.
The extendable hallway connecting the OCS Destiny to the main Operations Base had long windows on each side; from there the running renegades watched as the OB Orbital Space Station careened down towards the planet's surface, slowed, and docked around a large cylindrical port atop the ICC.
"Ooh, that's part of Lockdown Protocol," said Livvy, "all ships grounded. And the OB's got more of Security, some weapons… think there's even an experimental Fighter Ship docked there, yeah look…" She pointed at the still-rotating ring of the OB, where there was a small ship docked—for now.
"Fuck!" said Anderson.
Livvy smirked. "Don't worry. Kev's there, with Raif and Tina, Kacie, Ardi and… couple others. Any second now…"
The Interstellar Cargo Container—the entire massive structure, including the outlying rover bay and OB atop it—exploded. They saw the billowing ball of fire, then heard the ear-shattering BOOM as the force and shockwave rocked the corridor around them. "Woo!" said Livvy, fist to the sky, hair mussed. "Let's go Kevin!"
Holy FUCK, thought Jacques. He stared stunned at a smoldering pile of scrap; it was like a whole large warehouse had been detonated. Luckily, they were far enough from the blast. Shrapnel must've hit this tunnel somewhere, as a door shut behind them.
"Ah shit, well here we are," said Suarez. "Buncha criminals." She smiled and shook Livvy's shoulder.
Jacques roused himself from shock. "C'mon!" he cried. They ran.
Behind him, Pérez muttered to nobody in particular: "Y—y'think they're alright? Choi, Carson, Barros, they…?" Nobody in particular saw fit to answer.
They reached the door to the ship; Jacques crept more slowly. This door had a small window on it, which was shuttered from within. He stepped close, pressed his ear to the door, heard nothing. He reached for the panel to open it—
"No." A blue-gloved hand grabbed his. "Don't make me pull rank on you, Ensign." It was Pérez. "I… I know you're the leader now. You should be, but… most of Security started out in there, it's only logical, I need to…" He sighed, met Jacques' eyes. "Let me do this, Ensign. For Cori."
Pérez still had a gun of his own; one of the black ones, from Security. Jacques stepped back reverently, saluted, fist to chest. Manuel Ryan Pérez opened the door to the Destiny.
There didn't seem to be anyone inside. Pérez crept forwards, and the others started to follow: Jacques, then Livvy, Suarez, Ellison, Anderson. Then there was a characteristic clicking noise—strange, aboard a spaceship with laser guns, but Jacques and Ellison recognized the sound and dove back, grabbing as many others as they could. Only Suarez resisted being dragged back, she cried: "Whuh!?" but then saw what the others had heard, and also scrambled for the door.
Captain Carter Dacuma strode out into the hallway from its opposite end, his uniform dark blue, gold-trimmed, he holding a loaded revolver—an older weapon, the kind that shoots lead bullets—pointed at Pérez. "Lieutenant," he said, "you are relieved of duty. Drop your weapon and surrender. NOW!"
Jacques and all the others stumbled back around the door-frame in the hallway. "Delende," Ellison whispered, "what do we do?"
Jacques held his weapon aloft. "Nothing yet," he said. "No clear shot with Pérez there. Can't risk it." Ellison sighed and peeked around the frame into the ship.
Slowly, Pérez lowered his own weapon, placed it on the ground. Dacuma seemed satisfied. Then Pérez raised his hands and spoke: "Captain. You are the highest ranking member of Navigation and Steering on this mission now. Commander Jensen began this uprising. She chose this course, and we are following her orders."
"New orders now, Pérez. You must've seen the explosion; even if you didn't plan it, I'm guessing this mutiny began before today. No more chaos, no more killing, nobody else gets hurt. I saw Ensign Ellison's gun too; you all have to surrender."
"Carter," said Pérez, "She chose to do this—died for it—because it's right! Our mining is killing the Kepharines, killing this whole planet! This is wrong—there needs to be a new way now… we're killing Earth, we've been killing it, for all the same reasons!"
Captain Dacuma sighed and lowered his pistol. "You always were aligned with OCM's Values Initiative, Manny," he said. "Sustainability, 'we're all a Family,' Equitable, Fair. The kindly way they phrase things…" He raised his pistol and shot Pérez through the chest. "…shoulda learned to read between the lines. Made peace with all this before we came all the way out here—you all gotta!" he shouted down the hall.
"YOU MOTHER-FUCKER!" Jacques screamed; he leapt out into the hallway, 'flashlight' raised, and Ellison much the same.
Then there came an unexpected voice, crying out: "No!" Lieutenant Quinn Jackson jumped out from a doorway near to Dacuma and grabbed his pistol in her hands, wrestled him for it. Dacuma was absolutely shocked by this; for a few seconds all he could do was stare at her as she dug into his hands with her fingernails. Pérez bled out and died.
Ellison only got one shot off before Jacques pulled her gun back; the laser scorched the wall near Jackson and Dacuma. They both dashed back out the door, and Ellison hissed at him: "Now's our chance—she's helping us!"
"We don't wanna hit her either!"
"We don't have time! She's gonna die anyway if he gets control of the gun, this is our chance! Security's gotta be on its way, if they aren't in there already!
Inside and simultaneously, Jackson and Dacuma were arguing, she cried: "Carter, why did you do that!? He wasn't armed!"
"They blew up the ICC, Jackson! They don't care… they killed the Admiral!"
"You never liked him!" she growled. "All this bullshit—you never cared about anyone but yourself!"
Dacuma stopped struggling and stared at her, still and stunned; she elbowed him in the stomach and he doubled over. Still she was not able to wrench the gun from his hands.
"No," said Jacques, "I don't think he'll kill her."
"How can you—"
"Will you two shut up?" said Livvy. She was sitting on the floor of the corridor, back to the wall, focused on her tablet. "Fuck!"
"Livvy, what's going on?" asked Anderson.
"There's a wall-gun in there; it should be on our side," she said, "but I set it to only hit Security and Companionship. Didn't expect a fuckin' Benedict Arnold. It's precise enough to hit him and not her, and it's only like ten feet away, but my signal still can't reach to set the new parameters."
Jacques turned to her. "We'll cover you," he said.
Livvy glared at him, then stood. "Alright," she said; she tapped her tablet one final time. "Alright Jacques Delende. On my signal. And Jacques…" She smirked. "…I would've stayed tonight."
Huh? Jacques walked to the edge of the door frame in a trance. What?
"NOW!" Livvy shouted, and dashed into the hall. This snapped Jacques out of it; he aimed his gun down the hall towards Dacuma and Jackson. Wait, I'm an idiot, he thought, how am I supposed to do cover fire with Jackson—
Several things happened at once. Dacuma and Jackson both had hands around his gun; but the Captain saw them coming in. He saw green-suited Livvy run for the wall panel, and—as the ship's Captain—knew what lay beneath it. He was struggling against Jackson, and didn't particularly want to hurt her, but he used his strength (he was over six-and-a-half feet tall, and strong) to bring the gun's barrel nearly level. Quinn was tall and strong as well, she fought him for it. Livvy tapped a button on her tablet; the wall gun whirred, its panel opened. Seeing this, Carter Dacuma fired wildly; the wall-mounted laser gun fired as well, no less than four shots before it slowed.
Carter Dacuma fell flat onto his back; all four shots from the turret hit him on the chest, the stomach, the neck. Quinn, unscathed, stared at his corpse in shock, and then collapsed upon it. Jacques sighed; a bullet or two had whizzed past him, but he was fine. They all—
Livvy lay on the ground by the turret. She was breathing. Unthinking, Jacques rushed over to her. On the ground beside her, Livvy's tablet had one small hole through it, and a web of cracks on its screen. Then Jacques saw the blood. From lower on her torso, an intestine, it was oozing in a steady river of red. He knelt down beside her. The others ventured into the hallway from behind; it was a somber scene, reflected in their somber faces.
"That was… funny, right?" said Livvy. "My one-liner wasn't too cringe, was it?" She smiled; eyelids heavy.
"N-no Livvy, it's only a gut wound," said Jacques. "We can get you help just—just hold on, you ain't done yet!"
"Medical?" Livvy smirked at him. "You know how unlikely that is? Nah, Jacques, you're the same kinda idiot as me. I thought I'd be the one to do it all, but I guess I was always here to give you what you need." She removed something from a pocket of her suit; a little plastic box of thumb-drives, its lid transparent. She pressed it into his hands. Jacques stuffed it into his own pocket.
"Nono—fuck the plan," he said. Jacques chuckled anxiously. "Let's just stay here, for a minute—I can read you my poem!" He struggled to unzip another pocket of her suit, reached in. "You… you always wanted to hear me read my poem, hang on—" With his other hand, he tried to stay the bleeding.
Livvy grabbed his hand. "That's not—" she croaked. She coughed up blood. "Let me keep it. I get a piece of you…" Pinching it, she removed her ID plate, staining its green letters with fresh crimson from her body. "… you get… piece of me…" Wavering, she pressed it to his lapel. He helped her clip it on.
"Livvy!" he said; her eyes closed fully. "I… I love you!" He leaned down and kissed her on the lips; and could feel her kissing him back. She's still alive! Tenderly, he pressed with his lips, held her in his arms.
She pushed him away. "Good," she said. "Now go… no… time!"
He stood, clutching her hand in his as he went up. Ellison was hugging Pérez' corpse, and closed his eyes. Suarez patted Jacques on the arm. He set his eyes on Livvy, who was struggling to breathe. He took the shot. Everyone else looked away.
Jackson was cradling Captain Dacuma's corpse in her arms. She looked up at the others, wet-eyed, and moaned at them: "Why did you do that!?"
Jacques walked down the hall, eyes wide and watching. He pointed back at Livvy. "She did," he said. "So maybe it'd be fair. Except that slimy bastard killed Pérez. Feel whatever you want, you know he was wrong." He picked up Pérez's gun, and holding it by the barrel, proffered it handle-first to Jackson. "All of this is wrong," he said, "and we're fighting to make it right. Branford and all the other Branfords back on Earth only want to take, and they're happy to kill to make that work. That's what they've been building, and it's working—we're all caught up in it. Anyone who's willing to fight for them—to kill for them—Security, or Companionship, or any of us who choose to follow them, cowards like this asshole; they're fighting to die. To kill the Earth, get left behind when it burns, or find somewhere else to set themselves ablaze. Killing them is a mercy to all the multitudes of people their actions willkill. Their current course is destruction; it's cancerous, so we have to change it, no matter the cost."
Jackson took the gun and stood. "It's…" she said, "it hurts. And… and how can we know—"
"We can't," he said. "No matter the cost. In all likelihood, none of us will make it. But that's the current course anyway. We're fighting so that someone, maybe someone will survive, to build something better from the rubble. THE MACHINE is Extinction."
Quinn scrunched her eyes. "What do we do?"
Jacques eyed a set of steep stairs, almost alike to a ladder. "No lifts," he said, and pointed with his hand. "Anderson, you're Software?"
"Aye aye, Commander," said Tom Anderson.
"We move," said Jacques, "got copies to make."
***
"Dammit!" cried Graham Alvin, the Commissioner of the Security Team. The seams of his suit and his visor were gold-trimmed over the base black. He stood outside what had been James Branford's office, with a small detail of Security Officers and some people from Companionship. "Paranoid bastard got all the weapon controls in here, and the Lockdown Access! Why can't we get his passcode!?"
"It's DNA activated," whimpered a woman from Companionship, "he always valued operational—"
"Get E&R up here!" Alvin barked to a pair of his men, pointing down the hall. He whispered to another: "Rustle up some guys from C&E and have them get the body from the Auditorium." All four went off. "Has anyone heard from Captain Dacuma on the ship?"
"No sir," said another Companionship employee, a man, "We haven't seen any of the Lieutenants from N&S, either."
Alvin pounded a fist on the office doors. Guys at the ICH are radio silent, ICC just fucking blew up! And I can't get through the comms jam without his own fucking computer! "God dammit!"
***
"It's here," said Jackson, and she showed Jacques the panel, on a back wall of the bridge, which held the Manifest.
He stepped up to it, laid the bloody box of thumb-drives on the counter. "Anderson!"
Dani Suarez stared out the window at the black sky, the ICC/OB's smoking remains. She rubbed her head. "Jesus fuckin' christ…"
Anderson opened a holocomputer below the Manifest's panel and got to work. "Gonna need you to plug 'em in one-by-one, Delende," he said.
Jacques did as instructed. Crazy to see USB ports in a place like this, he thought. They made six copies of the Voyage Log; six, on six thumb-drives, in no more than a minute.
"Okay," Jacques said to Anderson, and Jackson, "now how do we get it out?"
"Oh shit," said Jackson, "Dacuma's got the key for this on him. I'll be right back!" she rushed back towards the stairs.
Jacques turned to Ellison. "Follow her." She did.
Jacques handed one of the USB drives to Tom Anderson, saying: "Just in case. You earned this. These need to get back to Earth, at any cost. I'm going to the ICH next, to get the VDR back home, but who knows how that'll turn out. Anderson," he said, "at any cost."
Anderson snorted. "You got a plastic bag so I can 'prison wallet' it?" He met Jacques' eyes. "No, I got you. But… couldn't we just take off and leave? I mean… in here?"
"I'm not sure," said Jacques. "Not sure we can, and not sure we should. There's at least, like, a hundred people still here, and I've got no problems pickin' off Security and Companionship, or anyone who's with them, but the rest… they're just people. Might even be good people, who we just haven't gotten to know yet. Only the Cheetahs and the GS1 can do hyperlight, and I'm not sure that's enough to fit everyone."
"They'll send a rescue team at some point," said Suarez. "I mean, they mighta already, with starcomm down so long. We're all a big news story… shit, even bigger now."
"Nah, I guess Delende's right," said Anderson. "Especially if we can't get it moving in the first place. What would it take to fly this hunk'a'junk anyway?"
"…I don't know," Jacques said. "I'm just a small-craft pilot. Maybe Lieutenant J—"
As if on cue, Ellison and Jackson returned, with a plastic keycard on a lanyard in the Lieutenant's hands. She wove past Jacques and the bridge's chairs, and reached over Anderson's head to slide the keycard into the panel. Then, the Manifest ejected: an orange device about the size of a lunch box, with attachment points and silicon circuits jutting from it. Even had a carrying handle. Jacques took it and clipped it to a carry loop at the side of his hip. "Jackson," he said, "can you fly this ship?"
She looked around, sat at a pilot's panel near the window of the bridge. "Lockdown's still active," she said, "Think there's some kind of emergency override, but that checks DNA."
"Whose?" Ellison asked. She began to count on her fingers, then cried out: "Aw, fuck!"
Quinn Jackson seemed to share the sentiment. "Branford, and the other department heads. Johannessen, Schmidt, Bradley, Jensen… Dacuma. Are any of them alive?"
Anderson sighed. "And here's the problem with killing bosses." He met some annoyed expressions. "What? I know it's mostly up-sides." He pointed at the keycard, then the 'flashlight' in Jacques' hand. "Look at all the rare loot we got!"
Suarez growled and tromped towards the man; Jacques—also annoyed—stopped her by grabbing her arm. "She's not—she wa—she's not a 'boss'!" Dani cried, pointing emphatically. "She's a leader!" There were tears in her angry eyes. Anderson shrugged.
Jackson was holding her head. "All dead…"
"Wait," said Ellison. "His body's still down there. We could just… what, what's—" She was the last to stare sheepishly at Jackson.
"What!?" Jackson spat. "I know what she means! Who cares—yeah, we should do that, there are even lifts over—"
"No lifts," said Jacques, "Lockdown."
"Oh…"
So all five contemplated dragging a rather large corpse up a steep flight of stairs. "Maybe we could just…" Suarez side-eyed Jackson, continued: "just need a fingerprint or somethin', right? We could take a… uh… a laser-cutter…"
Everyone jumped; there was the sound of a small explosion down below, and then the tramp of boots. "Fuck!" Jacques shouted. "Shut the doors!"
From his panel, Anderson shut every door he could. "I'm trying to lock 'em," he said, "but they might be able to unlock 'em just as easily. Either way that's not gonna—" There was another small explosion sound.
"What're we gonna do!?" cried Suarez. She brandished her wrench.
"Lt. Jackson," said Ellison, "you guys still got SH-3s aboard?"
Ellison and Suarez went down a ladder to the forward bay, where a few escape shuttles and several SH-3-083 Scout Hovercraft were stowed. "Shuttles are no good," said Jackson, "can't do hyperlight, and they won't be able to eject from the ground."
"If there's some way," said Jacques, "if you can manage takeoff—go, but only if you think you can take out all the Security guys on board." He pressed a thumb drive into Jackson's hands. "If not… scuttle the ship. Chain reaction; I know you can self-destruct from here. We need the head-start."
Jackson had Dacuma's pistol, freshly loaded, in her other hand. "I'll try. Anderson?"
"Yeah?" He had moved to a different holocomputer.
"Ready Self-Destruct. I want a button you can hair-trigger if things get dicey." Another explosion sounded, this time on the same floor as them, some distance away.
"Thank you, Quinn," said Jacques. He met her eyes. "And… sorry. Good luck."
"Choi really did the ICC?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Then I'm sorry too," she said, "I could've done more, sooner. I should've trusted him. Trusted all of you."
He patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, Lieutenant. It's what you're Doing Now that counts!" He twisted and clambered down the ladder.
Quinn Jackson frowned to themself. Another small explosion, just outside their door. She took aim.
Three Scout Hovercraft shot across the rocky, sandy surface of Kepharon.
"Wait, it's a Lockdown," shouted Suarez from her scooter, "how the fuck're we gonna get back inside!?"
"Shit," said Ellison, "least one's gotta be open, right? Maybe we just go straight for the ICH?"
"At least one," said Jacques. "We try every door, every airlock!"
"Nah," said Suarez. She still had her wrench, now clipped to her back. Jacques had examined the tool more closely on the Destiny's bridge; it was more of a multitool, with several other attachments extendable from its handle. "Only need one. I'll get us in there."
Ellison cocked her head at the hallway they'd once been in; between the base and the Destiny. "Which one, though? Where's Security least likely to be?"
Jacques looked up at the high walls of the complex. "I've got it. Main, north. They'll expect us at ICH. Not the front door, not straight through. Plus," he said, "nobody's got comms. That fucks them too."
They parked outside the large airlock on the center of the complex' north side. Dani Suarez's wrench even had a laser-cutter built into its butt end. She cut around the lock, then all three lifted the heavy door up and open. They didn't see anyone inside.
"Fast!" Jacques shouted. "They'll know we're here!" He ran ahead. "Let's go!" They all broke into a sprint.
As they passed through the approximate center of the base (Jacques kept them from anywhere truly populated—mess, rec center, etc.) they had to weave through people, who seemed to realize—maybe by the guns two of them had—that they were The Mutineers. It was mostly E&R and C&E, who all ducked out of their way, or screamed in terror. Ellison was laser-scorched, and Jacques was stained with someone else's blood. They all looked scary, probably.
A voice called out from a side-corridor behind them: "Jacques!? Jacques Delende! What the fuck—"
Jacques knew he shouldn't have, but halted. They all did.
"Wait… Ellison?" It was Dan Sacrimoni, with one of his friends—Gelman. "Wha—are you guys—"
"Dan!" Jacques ran up to him and stopped, eyed the man. "OCM always planned to destroy this planet, just for profit. Whole Mission's been fucked from the start. We're trying to change that, change everything. You in?" He held out one of the thumb drives.
Dan backed away. "What, you… you've been doing this? Is this what that Kayla chick's been up to.. oh, Jesus Christ Jacques… you helped them kill Branford…"
"Dan, I…"
"Jacques, c'mon!" shouted Suarez. Other people were crowding around; not so close, but they were curious.
"Jacques, this is all fucked!" shouted Sacrimoni. "Do you know how many people died in the ICC? And Extraction, some'a those rovers aren't even—" Another explosion rocked the complex; people screamed and fled.
Jacques heard boots down the hall, and saw: four far-off Security Officers bolting down a corridor towards them. He fled too, with Suarez and Ellison around a corner towards the ICH. He fumbled and dropped the thumb drive he was holding.
"Jacques! Don't—what is he—" Sacrimoni turned around and saw Security. "Oh shit! Hey, he's up he—"
Trevor Gelman grabbed him. "Danny, what the fuck are you doing!? He's your friend, he—" Gelman waved at them too. "Hey… hey! This way, I saw them go up those stairs! They're making for Branford's office!" He knew they weren't. Gelman stood dumbly still and let Security bump him as they passed. Or rather, he bumped them. After they left, he stared at the USB drive, now kicked to the edge where the floor met the wall.
Jacques was first to pass another hallway junction, and so was only barely able to catch a peripheral glance of the black uniforms approaching from the right. Laser-shots came, and he dove past the crossroads; Ellison dove back, and Suarez stumbled forwards with Jacques.
Both Ensigns peeked and returned fire. Once, twice, then on the third lean out from cover, Tamara Ellison caught one to the chest.
Suarez cried out: "Fuck—TAMMY!"
Laser shots flew past them. Jacques grabbed her and dragged her forwards. "No time!"
"She's got a husband, back home," Suarez grumbled, sobbing, "fuck's she doing here with all us single losers!?" They ran together, two. Jacques continued to return fire on the chasing Security Officers behind them, until they made a few quick turns, and lost them.
Joints sore, sweating, Jacques Delende and Dani Suarez reached the Interstellar Cargo Hangar. As they entered, a man with black hair in loose, short curls (Jacques recognized him, this was Akash Jangra) noticed them, and ran out from behind the doorway towards them. "Hey!" cried Jangra. "Who the fuck're you!?" He ran up close to Jacques, and there he held one cupped hand low and flapped the fingers, whispering: "USBs!"
Jacques removed one of the thumb drives from its little plastic box and dropped it into Jangra's hand. The fingers kept beckoning, so he gave the man a second one; there was only drive one left inside. Jangra smiled and whispered: "Farrah got the cameras off in here, and Phillips is out making problems for the miners. Now go!" He ran off past them down the corridor. He must've turned a corner or two, for as Jacques and Suarez got moving again, they heard his voice far-off, shouting: "Help! Oh, thank goodness you are here, I saw the terrorists! They're heading for the Destiny!" Jacques cringed. But the ship was far enough away, maybe Lt. Jackson could get it moving by the time they reached her. Suarez shut the door, broke its lock and propped it shut with a nearby pipe.
Jacques grabbed a cyan N&S helmet off a rack beside the entrance. There were several Cheetahs lying flat inside. "Which one?" cried Suarez.
"Let's just use hers!" he said, and pointed to Commander Jensen's Marlin.
They ran up to the ship's cockpit, which was dark inside. "You know how to start it up?" Jacques shouted.
"I don't fuckin'—" Suarez smacked the nose of the ship with her wrench—clang! "You're N&S… use your holoband or something!"
Jacques first touched the cockpit with his holoband, and then—after feeling stupid for a moment—sighed and spoke to it: "Computer. Turn on Commander Jensen's Cheetah-class Star-Scouter, the Marlin."
Sorry Jacques. Commander Jensen's ship is shut down, and you don't have the clearance to pilot it.
"Fuck!" Suarez cried. "Y'think they shut us out?"
"I don't know," said Jacques, speaking quickly, "I don't know if they know I'm involved, yet. Might be that I'm only shut out of her…" He stared down the line of ships.
"…What?"
Jacques smirked and took off running, a few tears in his smiling eyes. Towards a Cheetah with a splotch of pink paint on its nose. 'Give me what I need'.
"This one's mine!" he cried. "Computer, start my ship!"
Alright Ensign. Initiating startup sequence for IS2-7-028 Interstellar Scouting Vessel.
"YES!" he whooped. They both reached the starship. He turned to Suarez, nervous. "Wait," he said, "take this." He gave her the box, with its one thumb drive. "I've got the Manifest, and you should probably—"
"Yeah, we split up, gotcha. But… how am I supposed to get into one'a these?"
Jacques put his hand on a nearby Cheetah. "Computer, start up this ship as well."
Sorry Ensign. You don't have the clearance to—
"Alright, alright! Wait, Suarez, maybe one of the others hacked into one, lemme see—"
They both heard something heavy rock the door of the complex. "I'm good, kid, I do maintenance," said Suarez. She rolled up her sleeves. "I know how these puppies tick."
Jacques knew she was lying. He extended her a hand, she took it. "See you on Earth," he said.
"Yeah." Their eyes met; allies.
Jacques put on his helmet, ran off and opened the cockpit of his ship. "And they're Cheetahs," he called back, "that's a cat, not a puppy!" He jumped in, and the tinted windscreen closed over his smirking face. His ship roared to life.
Gasping, Dani ran over to a large bulkhead door nearby, and was able to open it; only a permeable shield covered the new-made opening. Jacques' ship lifted off the ground, and swerving, slipped out into the darkness.
Dani walked up to one of the Cheetahs. She heard another, heavier slam hit the door, and the sound of metal buckling. Only a matter of time 'fore someone realizes this bulkhead's open. Let 'em come! She smacked her hands together, rubbed them. "All-right," she grunted, "let's make this kitty purr…"
In his IS2, Jacques Delende zipped up into orbit. He clutched Jensen's 'flashlight' and the Manifest in his hands. "Computer!" he shouted. "Fire up the hyperlight! Set course for Earth!"
I'm sorry, Ensign. Lockdown Protocol grounds all ships to low orbit. If you go too far out, your engine will shut down automatically.
Jacques' engine shut down.
"Wha—FUCK!" He scrabbled at buttons and dials on the holoscreen in front of him. "Computer, c—c—… start the engine!"
I'm sorry. You may be stranded here until the Lockdown ends. Would you like me to find some in-flight entertainment for you?
"NO! I…" He groaned and beat against the walls of the cockpit. "GOD DAMMIT!!!"
Attention, Ensign Jacques. The LG8-022-109 Orbital Defense Turrets have begun their startup sequence; all pilots are advised to return to Kepharon to avoid collateral danger. Please divert to the ICH.
"WHAT!?" Jacques glanced back at the planet, the little speck of space base down below. TURRETS!? His was the only ship in the air. "How the fuck am I supposed to land if my engine's off!?"
Let me see. Looks like your 2SD has been repaired, Jacques. If you go outside, I can send it out for you, or you can retrieve it from your cargo hold and activate it when you leave.
He frowned. "Can that do hyperlight?"
Sorry Jacques, it looks like the 2SD-003-053 is not capable of Hyperlumic Travel. Would you like me to open the cockpit?
Jacques put his head in his hands. But… "Computer… can you turn my engine back on?"
Sorry Jacques. The shutdown protocol is still active.
He slammed the walls with his fists again, and kicked the floor with his feet, shuddering and muttering. Then he stopped. "Wait," he said, "how's the remote shutdown work? Is there, like, a transceiver somewhere?"
Yes Jacques, this ship's hyperlight engine has an additional starcomm transceiver attached to the engine to ensure stability of the remote shutdown. Would you like to see a diagram of the engine and surrounding subsystems?
"YES!" he cried. "Show me everything; schematics, physical principles, connector types… tell me how it works. Is there a spanner in here? Laser cutter?"
Jacques climbed out of his cockpit into the (near-)vacuum of low-orbit space. "Computer, send me that SD. Manual control."
Okay Jacques. Activating now.
His Spaceflight Drone flew out. He raised his arms, and it attached itself to his back. He flexed his fingers and maneuvered it expertly: over to the back of his ship, where there were handles atop the engine housing. He grabbed on, reached back and deactivated the SD by pressing a button on the far side. His spacesuit had a tether, which he used only a short length of, hooking to the engine handles.
His hands like lightning, he unlatched an engine panel and dug in. The transceiver, it was… in deep, to the hyperlight systems—even physically. But it was possible; he checked the diagrams he'd added to his HUD. Seconds became minutes.
"A-ha!" he cried. "HAHAHA!" He tore the transceiver free and tossed it over his shoulder and into the blackness. He turned his SD back on and flew towards the front of his ship. "Computer, I'm coming back in. Start the engines."
I'm sorry Jacques, I cannot initiate the startup sequence during a Lockdown.
He climbed inside and shoved the SD into the seat behind him. "Okay," he said, "remind me how to do it manually…"
On Kepharon's surface, the Orbital Defense Turrets warmed up. Security Commissioner Graham Alvin stood with hands clasped behind himself in Branford's office, with a few of his guards and Jacob Francis, the new head of Companionship. There were also some techs from E&R, and a few more Companionship people. "Can we pull 'im up on starcomm?" asked Commissioner Alvin.
"All comms are still down—especially at this distance," said a sheepish E&R tech, on a holotab. "Sorry."
"Don't tell me." Alvin stared out the window at the lone bird up in the sky, a white speck: Cheetah scouter. To it, he shrugged, muttered: "Sorry kid, whoever you are. Shouldn't'a flown the coop."
"Twenty seconds," said Officer Brett Spaner.
"Send it the moment she's hot," said the Commissioner.
He worked hard and, miraculously, his engine growled to life once more. "YEEAAA, WOOHOO!" he screamed deliriously. "HAHAHA! FUCK YOU, OCM CUNTS!!!" He remembered some of how the hyperlight navigation systems worked; Earth was even on his 'Pinned Destinations' list. He set a course, felt out the pedal that controlled the engine's hyperlight thrust and breathed heavily, fingers shaking. Manual all the way, he thought, that's two hours but, fuck it, let's go! The engine was still cycling, its exhaust flexing wide; in less than ten seconds, it would be ready to send him hurtling. Every cell in his body was awake; filled with a fire he'd rarely felt; never to this degree. The History ran its course through his mind once more, but now he was ahead of The Machine, and facing it, his ship a bullet pointed towards the dome of its ancient, rotting, cyborg skull. His fire hissed like steam from a boiler out of his mouth, a determined whisper: "For all of u—"
And that was twenty.