Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (5 page)

:::{)(}:::

“This is
Descartes
with a final warning. We are firing a warning shot. Should you not heave to after this shot, we will consider you hostile and fire for effect. You have two minutes upon receipt of this message to consider your options. Consider them wisely. We have no desire to harm you, but we will do our duty.
Descartes
out,” the comm message played out over the bridge speakers.

The captain frowned at the open door. By now it was probably all over the ship she thought.

A warning shot she thought. Well, she couldn't run, not and get away, so …

“Missile trace! Missile inbound!” D'angelo reported when the clock reached the two-minute mark.

“Well, they are punctual,” Oswald said dryly.

“Shove it. Damn it …”

“I've got the helm,” the captain growled. The two ratings turned to her, but she ignored them. She waited until the missile was in its final acquisition mode before she jinked. But she jinked inside it, not away.

All hell broke loose as the missile's warhead sensed the proximity of its target and went off prematurely. The nuclear round tore
Marengo's
stern apart and kicked her like a bucking bronco.

:::{)(}:::

“What the hell just happened?” Troy demanded over the ship's laser link.

“It looks like they moved into the missile. Damned if I know why,” Oscar replied, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You better damn well hope they weren't civilians panicking, Oscar. You know your ass is grass for firing on her. If you killed them for no purpose …”

“As you were, Lieutenant,” Oscar said, sitting up straight as he slapped his fellow ship captain down. “I made the call. I'd make it again if I had to. Now we've got to get aboard that ship and do what we can.”

“Easier said than done,” Troy replied stiffly. They both watched their respective sensor feeds as their prey's small OMS engines spurted in an aborted attempt to right her before they failed. Her running lights and sensors went dark a moment later.

“Debris cloud behind the target. It looks like the hit tore her engine and stern apart,” R'll reported.

“We'll have to um, arrange an um, boarding party. Yes,” Oscar said nodding. “We'll draw them from both ships.
Descartes
will carry them over to dock.”

“Understood,” Captain Yu replied with a nod. “I'll get my people. Who will be ranking officer?”

“I'll send Vlad. He's good.”

“And since he's your engineer, he can make a quick assessment of the damage. Gotcha,” Captain Yu replied. “We've got a few hours before we can link up with them. I'm moving
Loch
in to transfer my people to you now.”

“Right,” Captain Levinson replied crisply. He looked around the bridge compartment. “Look alive people, we're going to be a bit crowded for a bit. Lieutenant Contenov, you are in charge of the boarding party,” he ordered over the PA.

“I'm on it. We're loading up on rescue equipment and med packs now,” the engineer replied, also over the PA.

“While you are at it, stop by the ship's armory and arm yourselves. There is no telling what's going on over there,” the captain said, looking at the image of the tumbling wreck.

“Roger,” the engineer replied grimly after a moment of hesitation.

:::{)(}:::

Main Engineering had run-away plasma leaks all over the ship to contend with. The survivors couldn't handle that level of damage control required to save their ship. Chief Faver swore viciously as the computer cut fuel to the power plant in a desperate but sabotaging act. Instead of saving the situation as it had been programmed, it instead stalled the fusion reactor and set the governors to scram it for the safety of the ship. Bottle containment failed, and the emergency systems powered the reactor down before it could collapse, venting the plasma to space in the process. A long superhot trail of plasma wrapped itself around the ship and scalded the hull, welding some areas shut and melting through others in hull breaches where the skin was thin enough. Some of the plasma drifted away, but some stayed close to the hull, attracted by the ship's weak mass and flickering gravitational field. With the feed cut and the remaining plasma in the conduits rapidly cooling, there went the ship's remaining power.

That left the ship a derelict. “We are so, so very much screwed,” Chief Faver growled, placing a hand over the oozing cut on his arm.

:::{)(}:::

Brrfrak was left trapped in the stygian darkness of his polluted water chamber prison; he used his sonar and felt the terror as his enraged captors came for him. He watched helplessly as they cut the feed to his life support and refused to cry out in pain as the three two-legs stood around him, arguing in their vocal language.

They were going to stand there and watch him die, perhaps die as well? He wasn't certain. His vision was keen in the dark. He looked around, but there was no point, no hope.

There was something odd though, odd about it all. Not about the situation but in his reaction to it. He didn't feel regret, just … acceptance. And a little bit of triumph at finally getting them for a little for all the torment they'd inflicted on him and his beloved.

It was small, cold comfort, but it was something. He decided to treasure it for as long as the feelings lasted.

:::{)(}:::

“This is Captain Levinton of the federation frigate
Descartes
again. Whether you like it or not, you are now heaving to. Prepare to be boarded,” a cold voice said over the radio before the communications link went dead.

Captain Belerose knew the end was nigh. The chase was over; their ship was dead. The drifting debris trail behind her ship told her all she needed to know about the state of her sublight drive. And with it gone was her last vestige of hope.

Not that she'd had much to begin with. But there was one last thing she could do. One last act … call it spite, she thought as she her hands flicked at her keyboard to launch the computer works into the computer network.

“We've got a minute of power remaining,” Oswald said from the helm station. “Everyone else is dead, Skipper. Looks like it's just you and me in here,” he said, handing her an emergency mask. She took it and slipped it around her neck. She'd use the small bottle and rebreather charge only when it became absolutely necessary.

She rerouted power ruthlessly from life support to finish her plan just as the computers started to die.

“This is the captain. I'm using the remaining power to order you to disconnect the Ssilli. Destroy all databases; don't bother to try to get life support up and running.”

“Captain?” Oswald asked.

“I'm on it,” she said long fingers flicking out commands she alone knew and could use. She pressed her thumb to the activation port for the final authorization. She swore vilely when the self-destruct failed to go off. There was something cut between her and the packages and reactor. No matter, she thought. Where there was a will there was a way. She flicked out fresh commands.

“We're going to be boarded. You heard me,
boarded
,” she spat as emergency power fluctuated and started to die. Her eyes looked up to the lights, then down to Oswald who was sweating despite the chill in the air. “We have one last duty to perform. I expect you all to fulfill it. See you in hell,” she snarled as she cut the channel.

She finished her order then her finger hovered over the execute button. After a moment she grimaced and pressed down with her thumb hard.

Doors throughout the exterior of the ship received one last burst of electrical power from the grid. They followed their final commands and cracked open. Interior doors followed suit. The surviving crew had moments to realize they were about to die before their compartments were vented into space.

“What did you do?” Oswald wailed as he looked over her shoulder. She lunged to her feet.

“My duty she said coldly as she moved with deathly purpose to the emergency tool compartment he'd left open. The glitter of the fire axe called to her.

:::{)(}:::

PO Travere did the only thing she could think of when her ship shook and the lights went out. She abandoned her station and went to the center of the ship, or at least tried to do so. Then the power was cut, and the doors opened. When she heard the whistle of air being sucked out of the ship, she turned and frantically turned the manual wheel to shut the hatch behind her, then lunged for and did the same to another hatch.

Once that hatch was closed, she collapsed for a brief moment and tried to wrap her head around what had happened. The lights were out so she could only see the faded lettering that had been painted in glow in the dark paint. She realized she was trapped in a compartment in engineering country. It was a dry lock setup with an emergency suit and equipment to get into and service the reactor or drive if necessary. She had batteries for tools, lights and equipment.

The pounding of the lock made her stop and turn. There was no power, so she had no way to look out. But she could imagine someone, probably one of her ship mates, was on the other side. She listened, cringing as the pounding grew desperate and weaker. Whoever was on the other side was quickly running out of air … if they hadn't run out already.

But if she opened the hatch, they'd both be dead. She'd thinned the already thin atmosphere in the compartment, and there would be two people trying to breathe it, not one. As the knocking faded, she huddled in a seated fetal position sobbing in the dark.

“I'm sorry. I'm soo sorry,” Kelsea whimpered, dashing tears by rubbing them against her legs. “Just … go. Just die already!” she screamed out, then she ducked her head in shame and anguish at what she'd let slip out of her.

:::{)(}:::

It was over; they all knew it. All but the captain, she seemed to be doing everything but work on their survival. “We need to surrender,” Oswald said desperately. He and the skipper were the only ones left alive on the bridge it seemed. “Why did the ship vent?” he demanded into his mask.

“Because I ordered it to do so,” the captain said absently as she took a fire axe to the navigational computers. “Any other stupid questions?”

“What are you …
why
?” Oswald demanded.

She turned and hefted the axe. “Because it's our duty. I'll be damned if I let the enemy get what we know. Bad enough they'll find the bodies.”

“The … are you
still
on that?” Oswald demanded, eyes bugging out in surprise. “We need to worry about survival here!”

“You're out of line,” the captain snarled.

“So? If you haven't noticed, we're on a dead ship! We need to get the hell off this ship!” Oswald snarled in response. He turned to look at the hatch. “Maybe there is enough power for us to get to the shuttle,” he said desperately.

“And do what?” the captain laughed scathingly.

“I don't know! Get the hell off this dead ship! One thing at a time!”

“They'll pick us up. Then what?”

“Then we live!”

“For a while. And you will talk. Can't have that,” the captain said.

He eyed her warily and moved out of reach of the axe. The lights were dim; he put a console between himself and her. “What do you think you're doing?”

“My duty.” Captain Bellerose could feel the gravity lightening. The axe would be useless soon. She turned. She couldn't get to him; they could play cat and mouse around the consoles until they froze or help arrived.

She found a more likely target. She hefted the axe and then swung.

“What are you doing?!?” he said, eyes wide as the blade hit the clear window. “You'll vent what's left in here!”

“That's the idea,” she grunted. She took another swing, and it cracked the window. He frantically tried to get to her, but a third swing smashed the glass and vented the compartment. Small bits and debris were sucked out into the vented compartments. The temperature instantly dropped.

They were both wearing emergency masks, good in low atmosphere. But that didn't protect them from the sudden onset of vacuum. Their blood boiled and their skin burst like ripened fruit as the sudden change of pressure tore them apart.

:::{)(}:::

Doctor Cloutier had been in the Ssilli compartment when all hell had broken loose. He, the Cargo Master Mackey d'Bird, and Bruno, a life support tech, were trapped inside with the Ssilli.

Mackey had yanked the computer cords when the captain had ordered it. But that had been the last order they'd gotten from anyone. The compartment was dark and dead. Without power there was no way the three men could wrestle the gargantuan doors open, nor the smaller hatch door. There was no point.

“The good news is, we're in a big room. The bad news is it's got no air system. It's just a cargo hold,” Bruno said, looking about them. The only thing lighting the compartment up was the Ssilli.