The Trip Out

by Pil Lee

You know from experience that it’s not a good sign when you start talking about sex with a crewmate. Despite your best intentions, eventually you’re going to be upside down on the grav couch together. So I was a tad worried chewing the fat with Ramon on the trip out. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great guy, but the thing with the external bladder, and the flesh antennas… Well, anyway, it came as a bit of a relief for once when the alarm sounded and we went to battle stations.

I was down in the lower gunnery as usual, strapped in with Pike and Regel. Pike snagged the Sarge on the way past.

“We’re still on the way out, Sir. Is it a drill?”

“Coming up on battle, Pike. Shut up and pull your head in.”

The three of us looked at each other, equally confused. We were all geared up for the blood and guts when we arrived, but no-one had ever been hit on the trip out. There were supposed to be three weeks to go before we got to the Zone, three weeks to hang out, hit the chem and re-write our wills. Hey, even Ramon’s external bladder was starting to look good.

Regel was downloading the battle specs. He hissed between his teeth and pasted them on the glass so we could all see the layout.

“There’s a fucking million of them,” said Pike.

“Twenty nine enemy ships,” corrected Regel. “Plus a freighter – must be re-supply.”

“How could that many ships get through the barricade?” I said. “How could any?”

There was no answer and it was a pointless question at this stage so we just helmeted up and launched the software. Within fifteen seconds my every thought was just a bunch of racing schematics. I started to realign the gunnery and then, without any discernible interference, the schematics were gone. Regel was searching for specs beside me but all his screens had cleared.

We sat there in the dark in our helmets, not sure what to do, eyes still on the glass in case something appeared. The minutes ticked by and, I gotta say, I was getting the wrong side of scared. Battle I can handle, there’s not much a regen tank can’t fix, but sitting there in front of that blank glass was starting to freak me out.

Pike made to take her helmet off and Regel and I reached out to stop her at the same time.

“I want to check it out,” she said. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Lock down that mouth,” came the Sarge’s voice instantly over the com.

“Sarge, what’s going on?” said Regel.

“Lock it down,” he said, then we were left in the dark silence again.

Regel was busy beside me, this time launching a Search and Report at Command.
It bounced back straight away and then all our systems died. The lights faded away and there was a terrible hiss as the area depressurised. Panicked, not able to control it, I tried
to contact the Sarge.

“Sir, we’ve depressurised in the lower gunnery.” There was no reply and I tried a general channel. “Lower gunnery depressurised, please advise.”

There was still no answer and I was starting to feel grim. “Regel, how long can we breathe in here?”

“Sergeant said we couldn’t speak over the com,” whispered Pike.

“No-one can hear us, we’re cut off,” Regel told her. “And we’ve got helmet air for one hour.”

We unstrapped and checked the door. Locked battle station solid, no way out without com commands. I went back to the glass again, trying to see some clue, but the void was featureless, not a ship in sight. Pike and Regel joined me staring out.

“Where did they all go?” said Pike. “What the fucking hell is going on?”

“Maybe they left the same way they arrived,” said Regel. “Maybe they had some way to make it this far without coming through the barricade, and then they…”

“Then they what? Decided they were bored and toddled off again?”

“They wouldn’’t come all this way and then just leave.”

“No,” I said, suddenly realising. “They wouldn’t come all this way just to fight one ship either. If they could make it through the barricade this far, why stop here? Why not keep going?”

“Keep going where?” said Pike.

Then she gasped as we all stared horror-struck out the window. “Home,” said Regel.