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Deepstar Five, Earth orbit

Back in his full vacuum suit, SC-80 watched from the captain's chair as Earth fell away behind the ship. Empty space opened ahead, and he turned to RP-18. "Well, Doctor, it's your show."

RP-18 pressed several buttons on his console. "I'm uploading the completed waveform now…I've basically given the warp drive a road map back to the exact second in time that we first jumped. Captain, I am not boasting when I say I am confident in my work. All the same, however, I am a man of science…and I always bear in mind the margin for error."

The Captain grimaced. "Do I really want to hear this right before we Jump?"

RP-18 shook his head. "All I'm saying is this: I've done everything I can…but I make no guarantees."

SC-80 nodded slowly. "I wouldn't expect you to, Doctor." He turned to the pilots. "Are we ready?"

"Course data is fully uploaded, sir. We've cleared Earth's gravity well. Ready to Jump on your command."

"Do it." Again the shimmering tunnel appeared, pulling Deepstar Five into its limitless depths…the flight timer appeared at the top of the main viewscreen and again began counting down. The bridge was completely silent and still, every member of the crew waiting nervously to see exactly where and when the ship was presently headed. Once at warp, there was nothing more for the Doctor to do; RP-18 sat at his console, his hands folded and his face grim as he stared at the view ahead. Ten seconds. Five seconds. The warp tunnel widened and shimmered away into nothingness, and the blackness at the end of the endless corridor was filled not by stars but by the gray bulk of… "HARD TO PORT!" SC-80 bellowed as the flank of an enormous spacecraft suddenly appeared in front of Deepstar Five, no more than a kilometer ahead. IP-77 swore and jerked hard on the controls; Five rolled hard and turned through almost ninety degrees, just narrowly clearing the stern of the massive craft.

"What the hell was that?" IP-101 asked, his tone incredulous…he punched up the view from the aft camera in one corner of the main viewscreen, showing the vessel that they had nearly struck. It was a massive gray slab with a double row of enormous spherical modules attached to both top and bottom; it resembled a freighter or tanker of some kind, but it was clearly not Wonka in origin.

"I don't know," 77 replied, "but we have bigger problems!" The tanker, or whatever it was, was not alone. Hundreds of craft filled the space ahead; the Moon stretched across the entire forward view…only something was very wrong. Huge areas of the surface were covered in development, the sprawling facility below a dozen times the size of the Lunar Base. And indeed facility was a misnomer…this was a city. The development, however, was clearly not finished. Tiny construction ships darted among the buildings like mechanical fish, the smallest flitting about with welders while larger vessels fitted structural components in place with mechanical arms. Vast barges hung in place above the buildings, keeping their charges supplied with construction materials; enormous tankers like the one Deepstar had almost struck slowly circled the building site, the worker ships flitting about them like hummingbirds as they refueled.

A dozen thoughts popped simultaneously in the Captain's mind like fireworks, only he never had a chance to speak. A genderless synthetic voice spoke smoothly through the bridge speakers, insistent but flawlessly polite: "Warning, you are entering a restricted area. Warning, you are entering…" The first voice, however, was quickly cut off by a second…which was not nearly as pleasant. This was obviously a live speaker, though his tone was reduced to a harsh growl by whatever communications system he was using. "Unidentified craft, this is Fox Two Theta. You have illegally entered restricted airspace. As per Special Order 6377, you are hereby remanded to the jurisdiction of Chadworth Industries' Security Division. Hold position and prepare to be boarded."

"Incoming craft on screen," IP-101 said somewhat nervously. The viewscreen changed to show two vessels rapidly cutting through the swarming traffic toward Deepstar Five. They resembled some cross between enormous beetles and helicopter gunships…only without the rotors…though they were smaller than the Wonka ship, there were certainly more than a match for it. Deepstar Five was unarmed, but both these craft were festooned liberally with both guns and missile packs. And there could be no mistaking the insignia painted above their cockpit canopies…in disbelief, SC-80 pulled one of the sample bars of Chadworth candy from within a pocket and stared at the logo in the top right corner of the wrapper. It was the same.

The Captain gave his pilots a pointed glance. "I don't know what the hell's going on, but I don't think we want any part of it. Engage the cloak and get us out of here."

"Aye, sir!" IP-101 punched keys, reengaging the cloaking device, while IP-77 pulled Deepstar Five hard to the left, out of the path of the two approaching spacecraft.

The harsh mechanical voice rose in both pitch and volume. "Halt immediately or you will be fired…" But the gunners didn't wait for the speaker to finish. A searing blue-white beam lashed out from beneath the nose of the first gunship, striking Deepstar Five just as she faded to invisibility…the hard turn to port saved the ship's engines, but the enemy weapon clipped the top of the warp module. An alarm sounded on the bridge as fluid began to boil out of the warp drive's ruptured coolant reservoir, sending a mist of pale green liquid out into space. With the constant release of pressurized liquid from within the hull, the cloaking device could not properly establish itself over the wound…Deepstar Five had just lost her only advantage.

"EVASIVE MANEUVERS!" the Captain roared, and the drive engines roared up to maximum thrust as the ungainly Wonka ship suddenly shot straight toward her pursuers, dropping and veering hard to evade another laser blast. "Damn it!" SC-80 spat, turning to his three civilian crewmen. "Best buckle in, gentlemen!" he said, securing his own restraint harness. "77, I don't think I have to tell you what to do."

"No, sir!" The two Chadworth gunships swung around hard, spitting bright bursts of flame, and a number of tiny objects struck Deepstar's hull with a metallic clatter. They sounded almost like micrometeoroids, but there could be no doubt as to what they actually were: large-caliber bullets. IP-77 shoved his controls forward and Deepstar Five plummeted, making a rollercoaster dive toward the lunar surface. Despite the ship's unremarkable ion drives and rather awkward balance, 77 handled her like a jet fighter…darting in among the construction vessels, he dodged incoming craft on all sides. The missile alert shrilled and 77 banked hard, veering underneath one of the barges; the incoming missile struck the massive transport vessel and blew it cleanly in half, sending its vast load of metal falling lazily toward the lunar surface. 77 dropped again, now angling between the titanic buildings themselves; the enemy craft were too smart to keep shooting, but they doggedly maintained pursuit. 77 banked hard around one of the buildings and narrowly dodged a construction vehicle that suddenly appeared from behind the tower; the lead gunship was not so fortunate, and he slammed into the service vehicle at full speed. But the other gunship was still coming in fast, and now more of them began to appear from around the perimeter of the construction site, closing in from all angles. 77 swore. "I can't lose 'em! Request permission to head for Earth, sir!"

"Use the atmosphere?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Do it! 101, get that damned coolant leak secured!"

"Working on it, sir! Number one pressure valve is completely fused! I can't lock it down! Attempting bypass!"

77 pulled up hard, rocketing into open space; the gunships followed, keeping pace with the larger ship easily. A flash of silver from starboard drew the Captain's attention, and he turned his head to look…another city opened up on the Moon's opposite side, easily as large as the one they had just left. But then the ship lurched again, and the lunar colonies disappeared from both sight and mind. There were more pressing matters. The cloaking device was still attempting to cover the ship, making her at least partially invisible…between that and the undeniable skill of her pilot, she was avoiding most of the hostile fire. Blue-white laser blasts streaked past, along with untold numbers of bullets…the missile warning chimed again, and the six crewmen were crushed downward in their seats as 77 threw the ship into a hard roll to starboard, the effects of inertia managing to overcome the dampening field. The warhead missed but exploded anyway thanks to a proximity fuse…Deepstar Five shook brutally, and another loud alarm began sounding: the decompression alert. "HELMETS ON!" 80 yelled as he slammed his own into place; 101 donned his helmet and then swiftly put 77's on for him, managing to get the other Oompa-Loompa into a helmet without breaking his hold on the controls.

Earth was rapidly expanding to fill the forward view, 77 muttering and cursing rapidly to himself as he dodged volley after volley…the ship began to shake, and an orange corona of heat flared around the forward windows. The cloak flared and automatically disengaged, unable to maintain itself during atmospheric entry. The Captain punched up the aft view, watching as the gunships started to follow but then quickly reconsidered; most of them were not in position for atmospheric entry, and they rapidly pulled up and broke away. But then the missile warning shrilled one last time. By rights, the violence of the superheated airstream should have caught the projectile and torn it to pieces…but, impossibly, the missile came skating through the clear channel of air directly behind Deepstar, The Captain started to shout a warning, but it was far too late. He managed no more than a first syllable before the projectile struck, obliterating Deepstar Five's starboard engine. Streaming fire and smoke, the wounded Wonka spacecraft plunged through the atmosphere out of control…unable to line up another shot, her pursuer instead fell away and radioed in news of the kill.

The Captain honestly did not remember much of the descent, only brief images and impressions: the scream of the alarms, the smoke filling the bridge, the ground looming ever closer. He shouted several orders, though he did not remember what they were afterward; he blacked out for several minutes on impact, and his next clear thought came as he found himself lying on his right side on the floor of the bridge. No, not the floor…he was still in his seat, hanging from his restraint harness, and the entire ship was now resting on its starboard flank. He reached up and unclasped his helmet, letting it fall away. In the seat ahead, IP-77 swore and drew his knife; the pilot's spacesuit had gotten hooked on the mangled remains of his seat, and 77 quickly cut away both the belts and his flight gear. Now in his standard uniform, he turned sideways and climbed "down" the main flight console to help 101. With a grunt, the Captain heaved himself up far enough to gain some leverage on his harness and finally pulled the main buckle free, allowing him to drop down and stand on the wall.

"Status?" he asked with a cough, feeling stupid to even ask; the bridge was a wreck, every console smashed. The ceiling had caved in at the rear of the compartment, blocking the access ladder.

"I'm alive," grunted IP-77 as he struggled to turn the chair containing RA-46, who had not moved since impact. The inside of the Research Associate's visor was spattered with blood; 77 removed 46's helmet and placed two fingers against the side of the other Oompa-Loompa's neck. The cold feeling in the Captain's gut already told him what 77 confirmed. The pilot did not speak, only shook his head and replaced the helmet gently. 48 and 101 were freeing the Doctor, who stood up too quickly and almost fell as he absorbed the news that one of his staff was dead.

101 shook his head. "I'm sorry, Doc. Still, it's damned lucky that any of us…"

The Captain silenced him with a raised hand; a distant sound was coming in from outside, and now all of them heard it clearly. Helicopters. "We need to get out of here! NOW!" the Captain said. 77 led the way, kicking out a section of the fractured main viewport; 101 started to follow but 48 hesitated, looking sadly at the body of his friend.

"We can't just leave him."

"If we don't go now," RP-18 said, "we may all end up in prison or worse." He placed a comforting hand on his assistant's shoulder. "Come on now, son. Saving ourselves is what he'd want us to do."

The Doctor and 48 slipped out through the broken viewport, leaving the Captain as the last one off the ship. He took one brief glance back…but that was all. He slid down the curve of the ship's prow onto the ground and stood up just as a spotlight centered directly on him, all but blinding him; the helicopter that carried it was approaching fast, almost directly over the wreck. Dozens more lights were crossing the marsh toward the crash site, both men and vehicles…they might have been search-and-rescue, but the Captain doubted it. "Come on, sir!" 101 yelled, seizing the Captain's arm and dragging him bodily along. A voice bellowed from the helicopter, ordering them to halt…a second aircraft appeared from over the trees ahead, its light illuminating the figures of the other three Oompa-Loompas. A machinegun thundered, kicking up plumes of water and tufts of marsh grass; the display was obviously intended to intimidate rather than kill, because none of the rounds landed anywhere near them. The Captain was running, stumbling, falling, rising again…his vacuum suit was ensnaring his legs and making it difficult to move. Grabbing the neck of the suit, he tore the top zipper open and yanked his arms free; he pushed downward violently, and the suit fell down to his knees. It promptly bunched and sent him sprawling, marsh water soaking his uniform…he flipped over and kicked violently, and the cumbersome vacuum suit flopped away as the Captain leapt to his feet and began running again. The others were shedding their suits as well…one of the helicopters made another pass, and the five Oompa-Loompas threw themselves to the ground. The aircraft dropped and hovered just ahead, thinking to block them off from the cover of the trees. But it was too late. Scattering, the group all reached the edge of the forest separately but successfully, stopping only for a brief moment to regroup once under cover. The second all of them were accounted for, they turned and continued running, thinking only of putting distance between themselves and their pursuers.