I haven't bought seaQuest since last week. What, do you think I robbed a
bank?
May the sun never set on my reviewers, Mar, Sara, Diena and PhoenixTears. You guys make my day : )
I'm already writing chapter 12, so you guys have a lot of catching up to do. Without further ado, on with the story....
Pro Patria Mori
Chapter 5
Bridger felt an icy hand grasp his insides. He dropped his gun and raised his hands, palm outwards, taking a step forward. The man holding Robert – they could see nothing of him but the top half of his face, peering over the taller man's shoulder – took a step back and jammed the rifle harder into his son's jaw.
"I'm warning you," he said, but there was no emotion in his voice.
"Come on," Bridger said, trying to stop his voice shaking. The rest of the bridge crew had also discarded their weapons and were standing, alert and tense, watching the stand-off. "There's no way you can fight your way out of here. Just give it up. You won't be harmed."
The man took another step back. Bridger realised suddenly where he was heading. The hatch through which the attackers had come was still open, a gaping black hole in the bridge wall. I've got to stop him, he thought desperately. His son's face was impassive, but Bridger could see the terror in his eyes. He thought fast.
"OK," he said in a placatory tone, palms still towards the man. "Tell us what you want. I'll see you get it." It was a desperate bid for time, but it was too late. The intruder had reached the hatch and was through it in a second, pulling Robert after him. The hatch clanged shut like a coffin lid.
The first thing Wolenczak did when he got back into the duct was to fire a quick, precise bolt at the door lock, fusing the moving parts. They wouldn't get through that in a hurry, not with no power for laser cutters. Then, almost in the same, smooth movement he swung the gun up and brought the butt down on the back of his hostage's head. The kid dropped like a stone. Wolenczak nodded, satisfied that he had done as little damage as possible; there was no time for resting on his laurels, however. He had to come up with a plan. His mission had failed, today of all days. SeaQuest was still in the hands of the UEO. There was no way he could take the bridge alone, even with a hostage, a – he looked down at the young man's uniform – Lieutenant R. Bridger. He stopped. Bridger. The captain's son? he wondered. Well, it wasn't as good as the captain himself, but it wasn't bad going, he thought with a grim smile. Even so, that plan was a dead end.
So what else? He couldn't leave the seaQuest as it was. Better to destroy it than leave it as a UEO boat, to wreak havoc on the Free Nations. The Alliance would be swept away like a sandcastle at high tide, maybe not immediately, but soon enough. Nothing they had could go up against even the next most sophisticated UEO boat, but up till now they'd at least always had a chance, through loyalty and sheer cunning. Now it was different.
He pressed a hand against his side to try and stem the flow of blood. He didn't think they'd noticed he'd been hit. He thanked his lucky stars it had been a projectile, not a laser pulse, or he'd be dead now. All the same, the pain was threatening the edges of his mind. He set his teeth and forced himself to think. And then he had it. There was only one thing left to do.
"Get my son out of there!" yelled Captain Bridger. Ford turned from the hatch and shook his head.
"It won't budge," he said, sweat standing out on his brow. "He must have fused the lock. There's no way we can get it open." Failed again, Ford. The captain must be really impressed with you.
"Then get the power back on-line!" Bridger turned to Hitchcock. She didn't look up, shaking he head as she continued to type.
"I'm trying. This guy's really something, though. He can do things I don't even know the names for."
"Well," Bridger said coldly, "I suggest you stop admiring him and find a way to stop him!"
Hitchcock's fingers paused briefly. "Aye, sir," she said quietly.
Bridger leaned on the back of the captain's chair and closed his eyes. He knew he was being hard on the crew, unreasonable even. But Robert... He cursed himself. The whole point of having him on seaQuest to protect him, and now on the first day... He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, took a couple of deep breaths, and straightened up. As he did so, a pleasant, electronic female voice sounded over the ship-wide system. "Warning. Life-Support system off-line. Oxygen levels dropping."
"Sir, Wolenczak's on the com."
Braithwaite looked up from his console, where he had been studying the seaQuest specs again. He didn't understand how his XO managed to keep all this information in his head. "Put him on-screen," he nodded.
The screen at the end wall was filled with the image of the young commander's face. He looked serious, and his brow was beaded with sweat.
"Commander," the captain acknowledged. "I trust you have my boat?"
Wolenczak shook his head. "That's a negative, sir. The mission failed. The bridge is still in enemy hands."
Braithwaite raised his eyebrows. "Continue," he said, expectantly.
Wolenczak drew a breath. "I've disabled the Life-Support systems. I estimate there's about," he checked his chronometer, "45 minutes of oxygen left. I'm sending you instructions as to how to break the lock on bridge and launch bay. In an hour, all you'll need will be a tank of oxygen and you'll be able to walk right onto this boat."
Braithwaite smiled. He should have known the young man would have a plan. "What about you, Commander?"
Wolenczak didn't bat an eyelid. "I'm injured, sir, there's no way I can fight my way out. Anyway, I need to be on board to block their hacker's attempts to bring the systems back on-line."
There was a brief pause as the implications of the statement sank in. Then Braithwaite straightened up. "Mr. Wolenczak, you are a credit to your fleet. I thank you on behalf of the Alliance of Free Nations. You may have just won us the war."
His XO nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Captain. It's been an honour to serve with you, sir."
Braithwaite shook his head. "The honour was all mine."
For a brief moment, Wolenczak stared silently at his captain. Then he shook himself slightly. "Transmitting instructions now," he said, pressing a key.
Lieutenant Simpson looked up. "Instructions received." Her voice was impassive, but Braithwaite heard the emotion beneath it.
The commander nodded. "Wolenczak out." His image folded in on itself and disappeared from the screen.
Braithwaite lowered his head. "A moment of silence please, for a fine soldier and good friend." He wished he could give them more, but war was no time for contemplation. Some of these crew had served with Wolenczak ever since he had come aboard the ship four years ago. They had lost so many men, friends and colleagues, but each new loss hurt just as much. And this one was going to hurt a great deal, not just his friends but his navy as well: there was no-one else in the Free Nations who even cam close to Wolenczak's level of scientific expertise. But if by his sacrifice he could win them the seaQuest... Braithwaite closed his eyes. He wasn't sure about anything any more. Was victory worth this? Was an overgrown tin can worth the life of a promising young man? Intellect told him it was; emotion said otherwise.
He raised his head. "Mr. Halloran," he barked at his sensor chief, "watch that boat. If they get their power back on, I want to know immediately." Maybe the seaQuest wasn't worth Wolenczak's life, but he was damn sure he wasn't going to lose them both.
"How long before oxygen levels are critical?" Bridger asked urgently. Hitchcock looked up.
"We've got approximately 30 minutes before we pass out, another 15 before..." she trailed off.
"Can you get round the block and get the systems back on-line in 30 minutes?"
Hitchcock hunkered back down over her console. "I don't know, sir. He seems to have stopped blocking me, but I've still got to get past his defence programmes." She was already typing at speed. "I don't know if I can make it in time."
"Well, you're going to have to," Bridger said grimly. He turned to Ford, who was examining one of the enemy's pulse rifles. "Well?"
Ford looked up, surprise evident on his features. "Sir, it seems to be Alliance of Free Nations hardware."
Bridger raised his eyebrows. "Free Nations? But they're a joke! They don't have the technology to plan this attack."
Ford shrugged. "Looks like they do now, sir."
"Warning, oxygen levels dropping," came the pleasant voice. Bridger ground his teeth. He was beginning to wish he hadn't programmed that damn thing. He strode to the hatch. "Do you hear that?" he yelled. "Your own crew is going to kill you. This is no time for loyalty!" There was no response.
Wolenczak looked up at the captain's voice, and shook his head, grimacing in pain. Typical UEO. The idea of self-sacrifice was not in their manual. Still, he was grateful that they seemed to have no idea it was him blocking their systems. He sat back for a moment to think.
The duct he was in was a pretty small space; he had sealed off all the openings to prevent them catching him, but he knew that meant the oxygen would run out here first. He briefly considered killing the young lieutenant to win himself some more time, but quickly discarded the idea. Even if he was UEO, Wolenczak had no doubt that he'd been brainwashed by their propaganda. He knew that the enemy were not demons – at least not the foot soldiers. Nobody fought this hard for a cause they didn't believe in. And anyway, what was a few more minutes here or there? It wasn't as if he had anything in particular to do, apart from bleed out. Might as well let the young man have those precious extra seconds in his dream world. He looked down at the Lieutenant, who was still unconscious on the floor, and his face softened.
"Must be pretty cool to have your dad right by you every time you need him, huh?" he said softly. At that moment, a stab of pain shot through him, and he shook himself. No time for daydreams, Wolenczak. He bent over his palmtop again, but his fingers were slick with sweat, and blackness was eating at the edges of his vision. He struggled to type, but his movements were sluggish and his body wouldn't respond as he wanted it to. The whole of one side of his uniform was stiff with blood. Sweat ran into his eyes and he swept it away, irritated. All he had to do was erase the memory, and he would be home free. There was no way their hacker would get the system back on-line in time. He saw, as if through a fog, the command ERASE? flashing on his screen. His fingers were cold. He reached out for the keyboard, but it was as if he was moving through treacle.
And then darkness claimed him.
May the sun never set on my reviewers, Mar, Sara, Diena and PhoenixTears. You guys make my day : )
I'm already writing chapter 12, so you guys have a lot of catching up to do. Without further ado, on with the story....
Pro Patria Mori
Chapter 5
Bridger felt an icy hand grasp his insides. He dropped his gun and raised his hands, palm outwards, taking a step forward. The man holding Robert – they could see nothing of him but the top half of his face, peering over the taller man's shoulder – took a step back and jammed the rifle harder into his son's jaw.
"I'm warning you," he said, but there was no emotion in his voice.
"Come on," Bridger said, trying to stop his voice shaking. The rest of the bridge crew had also discarded their weapons and were standing, alert and tense, watching the stand-off. "There's no way you can fight your way out of here. Just give it up. You won't be harmed."
The man took another step back. Bridger realised suddenly where he was heading. The hatch through which the attackers had come was still open, a gaping black hole in the bridge wall. I've got to stop him, he thought desperately. His son's face was impassive, but Bridger could see the terror in his eyes. He thought fast.
"OK," he said in a placatory tone, palms still towards the man. "Tell us what you want. I'll see you get it." It was a desperate bid for time, but it was too late. The intruder had reached the hatch and was through it in a second, pulling Robert after him. The hatch clanged shut like a coffin lid.
The first thing Wolenczak did when he got back into the duct was to fire a quick, precise bolt at the door lock, fusing the moving parts. They wouldn't get through that in a hurry, not with no power for laser cutters. Then, almost in the same, smooth movement he swung the gun up and brought the butt down on the back of his hostage's head. The kid dropped like a stone. Wolenczak nodded, satisfied that he had done as little damage as possible; there was no time for resting on his laurels, however. He had to come up with a plan. His mission had failed, today of all days. SeaQuest was still in the hands of the UEO. There was no way he could take the bridge alone, even with a hostage, a – he looked down at the young man's uniform – Lieutenant R. Bridger. He stopped. Bridger. The captain's son? he wondered. Well, it wasn't as good as the captain himself, but it wasn't bad going, he thought with a grim smile. Even so, that plan was a dead end.
So what else? He couldn't leave the seaQuest as it was. Better to destroy it than leave it as a UEO boat, to wreak havoc on the Free Nations. The Alliance would be swept away like a sandcastle at high tide, maybe not immediately, but soon enough. Nothing they had could go up against even the next most sophisticated UEO boat, but up till now they'd at least always had a chance, through loyalty and sheer cunning. Now it was different.
He pressed a hand against his side to try and stem the flow of blood. He didn't think they'd noticed he'd been hit. He thanked his lucky stars it had been a projectile, not a laser pulse, or he'd be dead now. All the same, the pain was threatening the edges of his mind. He set his teeth and forced himself to think. And then he had it. There was only one thing left to do.
"Get my son out of there!" yelled Captain Bridger. Ford turned from the hatch and shook his head.
"It won't budge," he said, sweat standing out on his brow. "He must have fused the lock. There's no way we can get it open." Failed again, Ford. The captain must be really impressed with you.
"Then get the power back on-line!" Bridger turned to Hitchcock. She didn't look up, shaking he head as she continued to type.
"I'm trying. This guy's really something, though. He can do things I don't even know the names for."
"Well," Bridger said coldly, "I suggest you stop admiring him and find a way to stop him!"
Hitchcock's fingers paused briefly. "Aye, sir," she said quietly.
Bridger leaned on the back of the captain's chair and closed his eyes. He knew he was being hard on the crew, unreasonable even. But Robert... He cursed himself. The whole point of having him on seaQuest to protect him, and now on the first day... He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, took a couple of deep breaths, and straightened up. As he did so, a pleasant, electronic female voice sounded over the ship-wide system. "Warning. Life-Support system off-line. Oxygen levels dropping."
"Sir, Wolenczak's on the com."
Braithwaite looked up from his console, where he had been studying the seaQuest specs again. He didn't understand how his XO managed to keep all this information in his head. "Put him on-screen," he nodded.
The screen at the end wall was filled with the image of the young commander's face. He looked serious, and his brow was beaded with sweat.
"Commander," the captain acknowledged. "I trust you have my boat?"
Wolenczak shook his head. "That's a negative, sir. The mission failed. The bridge is still in enemy hands."
Braithwaite raised his eyebrows. "Continue," he said, expectantly.
Wolenczak drew a breath. "I've disabled the Life-Support systems. I estimate there's about," he checked his chronometer, "45 minutes of oxygen left. I'm sending you instructions as to how to break the lock on bridge and launch bay. In an hour, all you'll need will be a tank of oxygen and you'll be able to walk right onto this boat."
Braithwaite smiled. He should have known the young man would have a plan. "What about you, Commander?"
Wolenczak didn't bat an eyelid. "I'm injured, sir, there's no way I can fight my way out. Anyway, I need to be on board to block their hacker's attempts to bring the systems back on-line."
There was a brief pause as the implications of the statement sank in. Then Braithwaite straightened up. "Mr. Wolenczak, you are a credit to your fleet. I thank you on behalf of the Alliance of Free Nations. You may have just won us the war."
His XO nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Captain. It's been an honour to serve with you, sir."
Braithwaite shook his head. "The honour was all mine."
For a brief moment, Wolenczak stared silently at his captain. Then he shook himself slightly. "Transmitting instructions now," he said, pressing a key.
Lieutenant Simpson looked up. "Instructions received." Her voice was impassive, but Braithwaite heard the emotion beneath it.
The commander nodded. "Wolenczak out." His image folded in on itself and disappeared from the screen.
Braithwaite lowered his head. "A moment of silence please, for a fine soldier and good friend." He wished he could give them more, but war was no time for contemplation. Some of these crew had served with Wolenczak ever since he had come aboard the ship four years ago. They had lost so many men, friends and colleagues, but each new loss hurt just as much. And this one was going to hurt a great deal, not just his friends but his navy as well: there was no-one else in the Free Nations who even cam close to Wolenczak's level of scientific expertise. But if by his sacrifice he could win them the seaQuest... Braithwaite closed his eyes. He wasn't sure about anything any more. Was victory worth this? Was an overgrown tin can worth the life of a promising young man? Intellect told him it was; emotion said otherwise.
He raised his head. "Mr. Halloran," he barked at his sensor chief, "watch that boat. If they get their power back on, I want to know immediately." Maybe the seaQuest wasn't worth Wolenczak's life, but he was damn sure he wasn't going to lose them both.
"How long before oxygen levels are critical?" Bridger asked urgently. Hitchcock looked up.
"We've got approximately 30 minutes before we pass out, another 15 before..." she trailed off.
"Can you get round the block and get the systems back on-line in 30 minutes?"
Hitchcock hunkered back down over her console. "I don't know, sir. He seems to have stopped blocking me, but I've still got to get past his defence programmes." She was already typing at speed. "I don't know if I can make it in time."
"Well, you're going to have to," Bridger said grimly. He turned to Ford, who was examining one of the enemy's pulse rifles. "Well?"
Ford looked up, surprise evident on his features. "Sir, it seems to be Alliance of Free Nations hardware."
Bridger raised his eyebrows. "Free Nations? But they're a joke! They don't have the technology to plan this attack."
Ford shrugged. "Looks like they do now, sir."
"Warning, oxygen levels dropping," came the pleasant voice. Bridger ground his teeth. He was beginning to wish he hadn't programmed that damn thing. He strode to the hatch. "Do you hear that?" he yelled. "Your own crew is going to kill you. This is no time for loyalty!" There was no response.
Wolenczak looked up at the captain's voice, and shook his head, grimacing in pain. Typical UEO. The idea of self-sacrifice was not in their manual. Still, he was grateful that they seemed to have no idea it was him blocking their systems. He sat back for a moment to think.
The duct he was in was a pretty small space; he had sealed off all the openings to prevent them catching him, but he knew that meant the oxygen would run out here first. He briefly considered killing the young lieutenant to win himself some more time, but quickly discarded the idea. Even if he was UEO, Wolenczak had no doubt that he'd been brainwashed by their propaganda. He knew that the enemy were not demons – at least not the foot soldiers. Nobody fought this hard for a cause they didn't believe in. And anyway, what was a few more minutes here or there? It wasn't as if he had anything in particular to do, apart from bleed out. Might as well let the young man have those precious extra seconds in his dream world. He looked down at the Lieutenant, who was still unconscious on the floor, and his face softened.
"Must be pretty cool to have your dad right by you every time you need him, huh?" he said softly. At that moment, a stab of pain shot through him, and he shook himself. No time for daydreams, Wolenczak. He bent over his palmtop again, but his fingers were slick with sweat, and blackness was eating at the edges of his vision. He struggled to type, but his movements were sluggish and his body wouldn't respond as he wanted it to. The whole of one side of his uniform was stiff with blood. Sweat ran into his eyes and he swept it away, irritated. All he had to do was erase the memory, and he would be home free. There was no way their hacker would get the system back on-line in time. He saw, as if through a fog, the command ERASE? flashing on his screen. His fingers were cold. He reached out for the keyboard, but it was as if he was moving through treacle.
And then darkness claimed him.