Chapter 7 – A Welcome Voice

Deployment +170 Hours:26 Minutes:07 Seconds (First Lieutenant Banga Mission Clock)/

CMA Argo, Harvest Colony, nearby asteroid field

Brad just finished up getting a report from Pryor about a damaged hydraulic line and was coming back to the cockpit. Before he entered, he saw Jeff at his NAV terminal, adjacent to the pilot's seat. He was hunched forward, as if concentrating hard on something in front, only it wasn't his equipment. He was motionless, deep in thought, and actually sort of grimacing inward. Brad resumed his trek back into the cockpit.

"Hey...you alright?"

"I think so," Jeff replied. "I really...really messed up, but I'll be alright."

"Don't think too hard about it."

It was such an easy thing to say, but to be in the proverbial hotseat with so much expectation...any navigator would have his hands full. Jeff's performance in the face of hostile aliens was satisfying to say the least. Sure, they weren't home but they were safe, for now.

"I'll be in the engine room if you need me, okay?"

Banga was just about to leave...

"Brad," Selonke beckoned from the NAV chair.

"What's up?" Brad said as he turned around.

"You're not going to like this."

"Just give it to me straight…and I'm sorry I lashed out at you back there."

"We have to clear the asteroid field before we jump. There's just not enough room in here."

"There's nothing more we can do?"

"Yeah." He swallowed hard.

Brad breathed deep and let out explosively and offered a sympathetic smile. "Well, it'll draw us out into the open, but it's better than nothing."

"No…Brad…that's only the half of it. If we jump in the open, they'll be able to detect it for one, but they'll also be able to decipher our heading—back to Reach."

Banga slapped an open palm against his forehead. "What to do? What to do?" he whispered.

He looked out the view port once again, maybe to find a muse in the stars surrounding them or some source of beauty and inspiration. But the only thing drawing in his gaze was the massive fireball of Harvest. The sight was so blasphemous yet so alluring, like man's primeval attraction to flame. According to the Centennial CMA Census, there were 3 million citizens living here at the time these aliens showed up. Towns, cities, metropolii. Farmers, doctors, engineers. Wives, husbands, children, animals. Green and blue and life. All gone in a flash. It could've been Brad and his family living there. Pryor, Selonke, Brahm...anyone. Brad imagined what the heat would feel like if there wasn't this hull of titanium between him and the blazing ghost-planet. He could feel his blood warm.

He was losing sight now, becoming unnerved as he dwelled on this new horror. The implications were huge. An entire colony just…gone. What next?

But he couldn't let his mind roam. This was still a mission. It was still salvageable. He took his mind off the strategic picture so he could focus on the tactical.

He took a look around the cockpit. There had to be more options. There always were, no matter how bleak the situation. Sometimes the options available are never seen because it involves collateral damage, or you're simply thinking in the wrong frame of reference…

"Frame of reference!" Brad shot up and started pacing.

"What?" Selonke asked.

Brad reahed up to the overhead console and poked the intercom switch. "Brahm, is that ship still in orbit?"

"I'm pretty sure. Want me to check?"

"Absolutely. Use the drones."

"Sending out the drones."

Every ship in the CMA fleet had Clarion Spy Drones in its inventory. They were small, cheap, and a priceless asset in any situation. Powered by miniscule propulsion systems, they were virtually undetectable unless the enemy vessel devoted its entire sensory array to a single point in space. They laid claim to a variety of ship-class EM detectors. They could take in visible light or any other slice of the electromagnetic spectrum. They were the ideal eavesdroppers in a hard-vacuum.

"Give me two on either side of that planet. I want to know the instant it disappears from our view," Banga commanded.

"ETA to orbital positions is ten minutes."

"Very good. We're still getting out of here, Jeff. Plot that course. Everyone, give me status on damage control."

Before anyone could comply, something odd happened.

"Sir!" Brahm shouted. "Single ping off to starboard…in the debris field with us!"

"Holmes, full readiness! Selonke, how's that solution?"

"I don't know. There's too much magnetic interference from the asteroids."

"Can't you just do a jump based on our trajectory when we arrived in-system?"

"We've moved since then. It has to be precise. Give it time."

"We don't have it! Brahm, where is it now? We're gonna make ready to blast it with everything we've got!"

"Wait!" Brahm screamed. "Hold on! I'm getting another ping, but it's CMA!"

"What?"

"Definitely CMA! It's on an E-band IFF transponder!"

Selonke's eyes met Banga's from the NAV chair. "Identification-Friend-or-Foe," Selonke whispered.

Banga reached back to the intercom. "Are you picking up anymore signals, Brahm?"

"None! We're safe."

"Link up with Selonke and bring us closer to that ship."

"Aye sir."

The Argo stealthily slithered its way between asteroids, weaving from rock to rock. Anymore than a fraction of an impulse and they were caught. It was tedious, but oh so neccessary. As they ventured closer to the source of the ping, a CMA vessel was barely visible. The odd, sharp-angled lines of a Chiroptera-class fighter, looking much like an asteroid itself aside from the obvious portrusions of stubby wings and rear stabilizers. It was perfectly hidden. They were the revolutionary stealth ships of their time, all but obsolete now. Banga tried to look for the streamer on its tailfin. All he made out was a single gout of orange-red flame, faintly illuminated by the flame of Harvest at their backs.

"Bring us to within spot-beam communications range, Jeff."

Bagna opened with a ping. He received one back. A dialouge was now open.

"This is the CMA Argo. Identify yourself."

A disembodied reply came back. "This is the CMA Prometheus. I'm a civilian. Are you here to rescue me?"

Brad exchanged a cautious glance with Selonke. A civilian in a fighter craft? "How much time until you get that solution back home, Jeff?"

"Less than a minute."

"Brahm, how are those spy drones doing?"

"Less than a minute, sir."

Banga weighed it out. They could be on their way home to safety in under three minutes, easily. They could warn everyone about what happened here. But now there was a complication. An innocent bystander. He couldn't just leave him here.

"Pyror, how long would it take to dock with her?"

"No more than three minutes."

"Hello?" a voice came from the Prometheus.

"How many of you are there?" Banga asked the civilian.

"It's just me. Are you getting me out of here?"

"Stand by. We're coming to get you out."