Ion Trail 2: Exodus

No, I thought numbly. I stumbled forward a few steps, which turned quickly into a jog. “No!” I shouted, kicking the jog into a run toward the closing blast doors. I knew I had to get to my ship. No matter what was happening, I did not want to be stuck on this station when it did. Peripherally aware that my sudden movement had spurred several other people to move in the same direction, I pelted through the blast doors, not slowing for a second as I leaned into the turn, down the elevated pier toward where my ship was docked. I felt the rumble a split second before another shockwave nearly threw me from my feet. I caromed off the waist-high wall separating the pier from the star dock floor below, unconsciously reached out to stabilize a young woman who’d also lost her balance, and then picked up my run again.

I watched the numbers counting up as I passed them, each denoting one of the berths assigned to the mid-sized freighters and yachts that used this dock. All around me, people stood still, staring around in shock or else futilely tapping at commlinks and datapads. Some were moving, like me, but there was no rhyme or reason to their movements.

“Twenty-seven, twenty-eight,” I counted in gasping breaths, finally slowing as I neared the stairs down to my berth. “Twenty-nine!” I said, relief surging through me as I took the stairs two at a time, stumbling as I reached the bottom. “Diaz!” I shouted, waving the sheaf of plas at him, once he turned his head. “If it’s ready, get it on board, but otherwise, I’m leaving, now.”

“What’s happening?” he asked, his otherwise handsome face bearing an ugly look of fear and confusion. I snatched the datapad from his hand, muttering, and used the NFC function to activate the already laden loader.

“I honestly don’t know,” I said, “but it’s not good.” Another concussion rocked the station, and I cursed the loader’s sedate pace. I thrust the datapad back at Diaz, and moved to the docking override controls. Somehow, I didn’t think I was going to have time for proper debarkation procedures. “Just get it loaded, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll load yourself, too.” I keyed in my authorization code, and signaled to have the outer doors opened. The machine thought for a moment, then I saw the particle field shimmer into place as the locks began to cycle on the massive bay doors.

“What about them?” Diaz asked as I turned back, already moving to remove the docking boots from my ship’s landing gear. I paused and looked at him quizzically, and he gestured toward the stairs, where I saw a small cluster of people milling around. I recognized one of the younger women, a pretty girl with auburn hair and a strong jaw, from the hallway outside the blast doors. They must have followed me here.

“What about them?” I echoed. “It’s a cargo ship, not a passenger liner, and not a big one at that. You’re lucky I’m offering you a ride.” I turned away, shaking my head and trying to ignore the twinge of guilt I felt. Those people looked terrified, and I couldn’t blame them. “Grab the other docking boots. As soon as I’m done with this one, I’m heading to the helm to get her started.” Normally, I’d just reach out through the datasphere and initiate a manual start, but that wasn’t an option now. The sirens, steady and insistent, almost seemed to be getting louder, as though they were panicking too. Another impact rocked the station, and I knew time was running out. I glanced at the stars, visible through the faintly humming field that separated us from the emptiness of space, but saw nothing that clarified the source of the problems. I hurried around the cargo ramp and into the interior, studiously avoiding looking at the group of people clustered behind the ship.

“Rick’,” I heard Diaz call as I slipped through the already secured cargo, “The docking boots are clear, but I’m not getting clearance from Dock Authority.”

“Stop calling me Rick’,” I growled, as I continued to the front. Of course we weren’t getting clearance. The datasphere was gone, and they were probably in just as much disarray as everyone else. I wasn’t planning on waiting around for clearance. I slid into my chair, keyed the starting sequence, and then rapidly tapped the override for the Pre-launch checklist. I was pretty sure we didn’t have time for all of that. The impacts, or whatever they were, were coming more frequently and seemed to be getting closer. When I heard the hum of the engines cycling up, I slipped out of my seat and headed back to check the last bit of cargo, and seal the doors. When I got there, Diaz was already securing the last load, so I moved toward the door controls. The group of people had drifted closer, but was staring uncertainly up the cargo ramp at me, fear and hope in their expressions. I paused with my hand on the control dongle.

“We can’t just leave them,” Diaz said, coming up beside me. “What will happen to them?” I tensed my thumb, ready to push the button with a retort on my lips. It wasn’t my responsibility, but I still didn’t push the button. Before I could decide one way or the other, another much stronger boom rang out, and the whole dock pitched, and the lights flickered and went dark, except for the whirling emergency beacons. A noise that would have reminded me of a sneeze had it been about a thousand times quieter ripped through the bay, and the ship jerked forward. I clung to the door controls as my feet went out from under me, and Diaz tumbled down the ramp. Several of the people, nearer the edges of the cluster, almost seemed to vanish as though an invisible and unstoppable hand had snatched them up and tore them past the sides of my ship. The young woman with the auburn hair was almost one of them, but she smashed into the edge of the ramp, and clung there.

I regained my balance and realized the roaring noise was the rest of the air in the star dock trying to escape out of the few open bay doors, like mine. Without thinking, I stumbled down and grabbed the hand of the young woman, hauling her bodily onto the ramp, as Diaz regained his footing. The air ripped all around us, and I stared at the remaining people, fighting to keep from joining their unfortunate companions in the blackness of space, and made my choice.

“Come on!” I shouted, completely inaudible over the furor, and waved one hand, the other still wrapped around the young woman on the ramp. Diaz snatched one man whose steps took him too far to the side, and nearly joined him in his headlong flight before pulling him into the lea formed by my ship. A few others were not so lucky, but a quick glance told me that maybe a dozen people had made it aboard. I pulled the injured red-head into the cargo bay and shouted again to clear the door before I mashed the button and watched the ramp rise into position. The screaming of the wind increased in pitch as the door closed until finally it cut off, nearly silent in comparison, and I felt my ears pop painfully.

I took a moment to catch my breath, looking around at the people who’d so unceremoniously and unexpectedly booked passage. Their faces were a study in trauma, written with fear, shock, pain and relief. I felt the familiar anxiety at being in the middle of a crowd of people, and I laughed suddenly. Of all the things to feel right now, this seemed almost comfortable. Faces turned at my sudden outburst, and the anxiety ticked up a few notches, but there was no time to explain. Another explosion shook the docks, and I felt the ship slide sideways. It was time to go.

“Diaz,” I said, waiting a second until he looked up at me before continuing. “Get them situated as best you can. Anyone injured, get them into one of the rooms. We only have a couple, so try to get the worst injuries first, if necessary.” He nodded, and I extricated myself from the auburn-haired woman and staggered to my feet. “Everyone else, have them brace themselves in here. It’s likely to be a rough ride.” When he nodded again, I nodded as well, and made my way out of the cargo bay and into the front of the ship.

I shoved the door closed as I entered the cockpit, though it didn’t latch, and dropped into my seat with a groan. Fortunately, the screens showed that the engines were idling and ready, and everything showed nominal. GS-15926535 wasn’t a new ship, but it had been recently refitted before being assigned to me. I’d flown it on a few test sorties before the longer jump of bringing it here, so I was fairly familiar with its quirks. I slapped the manual override button; There would be no V-tug beams to push me out of the dock, so it was all on me to get the ship, and its unexpected complement of passengers, out into space, and away from the station safely; I’d only ever executed a manual take-off in the simulator, so I was glad the bay doors were designed to accommodate larger transports than mine.

“Prepare for take-off,” I announced over the intercom, and reached up to take the manual control yoke. I pulled back gently and felt the ship lift from the deck, almost immediately setting of the proximity sensors; we’d slid further to the right than I’d expected. I corrected a bit before pushing the yoke forward, aiming for the center of the now wide-open bay door. I held my breath as the ship smoothly slid forward, and only released it once I was sure we were through the door. Once outside, I finally took in the scattering of debris from the star dock. There were crates of sealed cargo, one of the loaders, bits and pieces of detritus that had been swept out into the black.

And there were people. I winced as I tried to navigate the mess, and got close enough to see the results of vacuum on one man’s face. Despite the damage, the surprise and terror were still easy to discern, and I felt the bile rising in the back of my through, and had to swallow hard to keep it down. Luckily it was impossible to say if he had been one of the people I’d initially refused to allow aboard, but I was still sure his face would haunt my nightmares for a long time. Also fortunate, if one could see it that way, was that I had little time to dwell on that. Now that I was clear of the docks, my sensors were giving me a reading of the area, and I leaned forward to get eyes on the one I’d been looking for. Directly above the station’s central core hung an object, nearly impossible to see with the naked eye because of its matte, nearly perfect black coloring. Small lights, and the debris around it, along with the periodic flashes of fusion lances that arced from it toward the station below traced the outline of some sort of massive ship, like nothing I’d ever seen, or heard of.

TU Naval ships were usually white, like other most other ships and stations, to help deflect solar radiation and assist in cooling. It was sensible, and between the emptiness of space and the quality of your typical sensory suite, visual camouflage was impractical. Looking up at the ship above me, knowing this, seeing its sensor reading as plain as day on my display, did nothing to prevent the shiver of atavistic terror that washed down my spine. Whoever this was, they didn’t seem to care about what was considered sensible, and they were methodically taking the station apart. So far as I know, they’d never even hailed the station to make demands or threats.

Just then, radar picked up a signal of something coming directly for me, and moving fast. There was no recognized signature, but heuristics had identified it as a possible conventional weapon; A missile.

“Fuck me,” I muttered, and thrust the throttle forward, feeling the ship jerk as the thrust abruptly increased. This was just a freighter, with no weapons to speak of, and engines built for efficiency rather than speed, and evasive maneuvers weren’t likely to be practical. We’d been moving steadily before, while I’d sat gawking at the black ship, but it was going to be really close as to whether or not we could make it out from the station’s interdiction radius before the missile reached us. I reached over to initiate a jump, hoping we’d be out of range in time, which the sensors estimated at 30 seconds. I decided not to warn the passengers. If we didn’t make it, what was the point of them spending the next half a minute in fear?

Proximity sensors suddenly screamed. I froze, thinking the missile had come a lot faster than I’d estimated, and waited for the explosion that would kill us all. Instead, there was a dull thud that echoed through the hull and caused me to jerk the controls. I blinked, taking several seconds to recognize that not only were we still alive, but a damage assessment was flashing on the screen before me. Something had smashed into our comms disc, beneath the hull, and it was now reading as Unresponsive. Confused, my eyes jumped back to the other screen, and saw the missile still approaching fast, estimating 15 seconds to impact. I must have hit some piece of debris while I was focused on other things, I realized.

I shook myself, and adjusted the course again to the closest edge of the interdiction radius. We didn’t have time to worry about anything else, but I kept my eyes forward now, making sure we’d avoid any further debris, of which there was more than you’d normally expect. I keyed the point-defense lasers on, and then divided my attention between the missile, and the interdiction field.

Ten seconds. “Come on,” I whispered, “Come on, baby, you can do it.” Navdata has already been entered, before we’d left the station. Jump Status read as ‘Ready’, but Interdiction still read ‘Not Clear.’

Five seconds. “Come on, come on.” I stared at the Interdiction indicator, waiting for the reading to change to ‘Clear’. I forced myself to avoid looking back at the missile reading, but could think of nothing else, feeling my shoulders tense more and more, my teeth gritting, as I hunched over the yoke.

Suddenly, green flashed. The Interdiction indicator read ‘Clear’. I stared for a stupid half a second before I screamed, and slapped the Jump button, hard enough to hurt my hand. I kept screaming as the black, pinpricked vastness of space outside simply disappeared in a flash of blinding light.