Interdiction of the Cairo - Short Story

“Your bet, sergeant.” Specialist Collins nodded in the direction of Sergeant Leonard Dixon, holding two cards over her dwindling pile of chips. Dixon glanced up from his own cards, but was quick enough to see Collins’ eyes dart left to Ensign Charnesky and back again. Charnesky had nothing, and no real prospects for anything. He checked the first time and then only grudgingly matched a small bet from Dixon on the second time around. Dixon had an ace and an eight, and there were two cards in the center of the table facing up – a three and an ace. He was going for the dead man’s hand and pretty sure Collins was bluffing. She always covered her chips with her cards whenever she was betting on a hope and prayer.

     “Personal correspondence from Sarah Dixon received,” Felix, his artificial assistant, told him through his implant. Felix was the artificial assistant of everyone aboard the UHS frigate Morningstar, as was standard doctrine for all Hegemony naval ships whether they be ocean-going or star-faring. Dixon thought about stepping away from the table, but he’d catch all sorts of shit for doing it.  

     “Put it in the queue, Felix,” Dixon told the AI. Felix would store the message for him to review later. He reached for his chips. “You’re not running me out of this, Collins. I used to be a card-carrying member of the E4 mafia, so I know how you guys operate.”

     Collins pressed her lips together but did not smile. “Whatever you say, sir.”

     Lance Corporal Duffy was dealing, but he had already gone out. He reached for and turned the next card over. Another ace.

     Even better, thought Dixon. Collins again flicked her gaze to Ensign Charnesky and back, waiting for Dixon to make a bet. Dixon tossed a few chips into the pile. A sizable bet.

     Charnesky barely waited until they hit the table before exhaling and throwing his cards down on to the table. “I’m out.” Collins pursed her lips, staring hard at Dixon, who was looking back at her.

     Just as Collins began to reach for her chips, a klaxon blared throughout the lounge. “All crew to actions stations and secure for hard maneuvers.” Dixon tilted his head towards the ceiling, and then over to Lance Corporal Duffy, who was staring back at him.

     “Felix, secure the table until we get back,” Dixon said to the room. The AI was listening, and immediately placed a red holographic barrier around the table. Above the center of it floated text that read “LOCKED”. No one would be able to touch the table or anything on it without being recorded and reported to the four players.

     “Sergeant,” came the voice of Lieutenant Bondevik through Dixon’s implant.

     “Sir,” Dixon replied, heading toward the exit of the lounge with Duffy behind him.

     “Sergeant, we’re interdicting a Continental class transport – the Cairo. Thirty-two minutes to intercept,” the Lieutenant was saying. “Need you to take Bravo Team to airlock 3C on deck 3 in twenty-five. Prep for full EVA with hostile breach action. Sergeant Mallory is taking the rest of First Squad over on the Pony.” The “Pony” was slang for the F-62 Dark Horse assault craft sitting in Morningstar’s main hangar.

     “Understood, sir,” Dixon said, picking up his pace. Duffy could not hear the sergeant’s conversation over the private link, but he sensed the urgency and matched his CO’s pace. “What’s our infiltration option?”

     “Sending the schematic now,” the Lieutenant replied. “You’ll be positioned right above their cargo bay. Two-hundred-meter crossing, hack the maintenance access you’ll find below the dorsal thruster manifold. Intel says you should be able to fit through with your JEMAS.”

     “Understood, sir,” Dixon repeated. “Resistance?”

     “Intel thinks we’re dealing with ten to twelve pirates, lightly armed,” Bondevik explained. “Hegemony’s been looking for the Cairo for a couple of months now. We think she’s been running untraceable, untaxable cargo between Europa and Mars. We got lucky when the CSA called in a ship running dark inside their traffic zone. Maybe they were making a transfer with someone in the asteroid belt, or maybe they were just dumb and got too close to Ceres, but the CSA tagged them, and we were tasked to check ‘em out. Looks like we caught up to them before they could make Europa.”

     “Got it. What’s our objective after infil?” Dixon had just rounded the corner to the onboard barracks, entering Bravo Team’s locker area. The other two marines from Bravo Team, PFCs Kofi Okimbo and Andre Laurent were already in skin suits, assembling their JEMAS armor. Apparently, Duffy had sent them a heads up.

     “Primary is to secure main computer access if possible, get us the nav data and flight logs so we can see where the Cairo has been, and who they deal with. Once that’s done, help Alpha and Charlie mop up what resistance remains.”

     Dixon grunted. “Mallory is a distraction,” he concluded.

     “Yep,” the Lieutenant replied. “He’s gonna keep the lady busy while you get your hands up her skirt and cop a feel.”

     “Alright, sir,” Dixon said. “Anything thing else I should know?”

     “Yeah,” Bondevik hesitated, and Dixon took note of the pause. “Spacewalk is gonna be a bit hazardous. The Cairo stopped on our orders, but she did so within the radiation envelope of Io, so you’re gonna need to make the transit pretty quickly. Your JEMAS will provide some protection, but there’s a lot of rads out there. Doc says you’ll have twelve to fourteen minutes before you need to be concerned.”

     “Wonderful,” Dixon noted, saying the word verbally as well. His tone earned him a concerned expression from Lance Corporal Duffy.

     “Good luck, Sergeant. I’ll patch you in to the squad channel once you’re in the airlock.” Lieutenant Bondevik disconnected the link.

“What do we got, sergeant?” Duffy asked him. Okimbo and Laurent stopped assembling their armor. Okimbo turned toward Dixon, and Laurent stood up. Okimbo’s massive frame, even outside his JEMAS suit towered over the smaller Marine beside him. Dixon thought back to what the LT said about being able to fit into the maintenance access on Cairo and wondered if the intel group had considered Okimbo’s size when they suggested the action. If the large Namibian could make it through, the rest of them should fit easily.

     “Interdiction,” Dixon told the others, walking over to his locker and undressing. “Continental transport vessel. We do infiltration while Alpha and Charlie break and enter. We got twenty minutes to get to an airlock on deck three.”

     Inside the large locker was the exoskeleton of his Jupiter Enhanced Modular Armor System, Mark Three. As the name indicated, the JEMAS suit had to be assembled by fitting its pieces together over a skintight bio-suit into interlocking sections. Once each section was locked in place, they would go active, drawing power from the central battery core located in the chest plate. It was bulky, but it protected a marine from anything up to an 8.5-millimeter round. The JEMAS Mark Two was easier to move about in, but it also wasn’t rated for vacuum. UEH Marines operating in space always wore the Mark Three.

     “Airlock, Sergeant?” Okimbo asked in his thick accent. “We doing a spacewalk?”

     “You got it, Marine,” Dixon replied, without turning to look at the man. He began snapping in the leg armor into place.

     “Fuck me,” PFC Laurent swore. “How long of a jump, Sergeant?”

     “Intel says about two hundred meters. We’ll use the GAMAT, so bring your wheels,” Dixon told them, referring to the Gas Accelerated, Magnetically Attaching Tether and the motorized clip attachment that could be fit to each JEMAS suit at the wrist.

     “Son of a…” Laurent lamented, looking up to Okimbo who was staring back down at him.

     “Shut up, Andre,” Duffy snapped, making his annoyance at the man’s complaints readily apparent.

     “Bring your splicer, Laurent,” Dixon continued, ignoring the banter. “Gonna need you to hack into the maintenance panel in a way that doesn’t let them know we’re there. Oh, and we get ten minutes to do all this before the rads from Io start to cook us.” Dixon purposely took down the estimated safe time to buy some room in case they were delayed.

     This time they all groaned. Even Duffy fixed Sergeant Dixon with a “you gotta be kidding me” stare.

     Dixon ignored them, reached up and grabbed his helmet off the rack, placing it on the bench to his right side. He then grabbed his MX-50 rifle and magnetically attached it to the slot over his right shoulder, pulling out and store magazines of ammunition into the slots on his armor. He bent back down and grabbed his helmet.

     “We’ll be in the squad channel for passive participation, but I’m sending you the freq for our private link now,” Dixon told them. “Felix will handle it.”

     Five minutes later, the four of them were walking down the hall to the lift. The Morningstar’s lifts were built to be able to handle Marines in full augmented armor, but even so, two ensigns opted to let the Marines have the car and wait for the next one. Dixon suddenly recalled his wife’s message, waiting in his queue.

     “Felix, play me the stored message from Sarah,” he told the AI as the lift began to move. Felix complied, and the video message popped up in the top left corner of his ocular view. He immediately noted the look on her face of poorly masked concern. Her long black hair was pulled up tightly into a bun that was not visible from the camera’s angle, and she looked to be in a white room. There was a piece of equipment behind her with some data scrolling by. Was that a bedside cardiac monitor?

     “Hey, babe,” Sarah said into the camera with a forced smile. “I’m sorry to bother you. I’m not sure what you’re doing right now, but I’m sure my timing is as bad as it always is. I hope you’re safe.” He could see her look to the right, to someone or something off screen, but then he realized she wasn’t looking at anything, but stalling.

     “I, uh…” she paused again, before pushing on with another weak smile. Dixon felt a pit in his stomach begin to grow. He slowed his step as the team moved down the hall, and Duffy picked up on it, glancing his way. “You remember when I told you last week that I had that I had my annual?” She was referring to her annual visit to her OBGYN.

     “Well, she found something. A couple of somethings, actually, in my left breast. A lump, I guess,” Sarah explained. “And the test came back positive for something called TNBC, which is a type of breast cancer that is aggressive. So, they sent me in to get a full body holographic, and they found some additional nodes on my liver, and a few, uh…spots on my lungs.” Her eyes were moist now.

     “Anyway, they’ve admitted me here at Montgomery Hope, and they tell me they need to go in and get the tumors,” she finished with a rush of words. She wiped at her eyes with her right hand, and then her nose, finishing with a sniff. “I’m sure I’ll be ok, and I…” she trailed off, and broke down in a sob. The team had reached level three, stepping off and following a path only they could see as Felix used their implants to provide visual cues directly to their brain. Sergeant Dixon grabbed the side of the bulkhead as they walked by and halted. As Duffy looked over, he held out a hand with one finger up.

     Okimbo and Laurent pulled up short as well, and the team waited. They could see in their own HUDs that he was on a call, or reviewing something, and his connection indicated the traffic was private. They tried to look busy, checking their equipment.

     “I’m scared, babe,” Sarah said, finally, wiping her eyes once more and trying to steady her voice. “I know you’re out there, paying the bills. Hopefully, you’re safe but, I really need you. I love you.” The connection terminated.

     The squad channel came online and right after that, the command channel connected. In their heads up displays, they could see which channel was active whenever someone was speaking. Dixon steeled himself, and started walking again. Airlock 3C was just ahead.

     “-no response on hails, sir. She’s just sitting there, but she’s not trying to run, either,” a voice was saying over the command link that they could all listen in on.

     “ETA on the Pony?” another voice asked. That was definitely Morningstar’s CO, Captain Keen.

     “Three minutes, twenty-five seconds,” Felix answered.

     “Lieutenant Bondevik, your boys are authorized for breach unless we get an answer before they get there that shows these pricks wanna talk,” the captain said.

     “Yes, sir,” Bondevik said over the bridge command channel. A second later, he was on the squad line. “Mallory, you’re green for breach on arrival.”

     Sergeant Pete Mallory could be heard acknowledging over the same. “Solid copy, sir.”

     Bondevik then spoke over Bravo Team’s private channel. “Sergeant Dixon, get your boys in the airlock and get ready for GAMAT transit. Keep the door closed until the last minute to protect you from the rads. I know we’ll lose ten seconds in the exfil, but it aint worth the radiation dose.”

“Yes, sir,” Dixon replied in a steady voice, controlling his breathing and tilting his head towards Lance Corporal Duffy and then the airlock. Duffy hit the buttons to cycle the interior door and it slid to the side. Okimbo went in first, followed by Laurent and then Duffy, with Dixon bringing up the rear. Once they were inside, Dixon sent a private command to Felix to confirm suit integrity for his team, and to close the inner door.

     “All suits have good seals,” Felix said. “Closing inner door now. Airlock depressurization in five seconds.” Felix would remove the air to prevent explosive decompression when they had to open the outer door.

     “Pony reports forced docking,” came someone over the command channel. “Extending skirt. Sergeant Mallory reports breach in progress.”

     Lieutenant Bondevik spoke on Bravo Team’s private link. “Good to go, Bravo.”

     “Bravo is moving,” Dixon confirmed, and then pointed to Laurent, who had his hands on the airlock controls. The private hit the buttons and the outer door began to cycle open, with the lights in the airlock going dark. JEMAS suit lights activated on all team members. The door was replaced with the blackness of the void and tens of thousands of stars. Okimbo peaked his head out and looked down at the hull of the Cairo floating silently above the pockmarked, sickly yellowish green surface of Io, with the massive swirling giant Jupiter six hundred thousand or so kilometers beyond. He had already pulled out a large mechanism that had a pointed bolt at the end of a trigger housing. With an eye click in his HUD, a small screen opened up and went active. A small targeting chevron began to animate on the display, and Felix highlighted the targeted area of the Cairo he needed to aim at.ake all the difference.

     When a lock had been achieved, the chevrons turned red and froze in place. Okimbo pulled the trigger with his thick glove, and there was a puff of gas as the metal dart raced off, pulling a thick cable behind it. The dart tracked into the target, adjusting its trajectory with slight releases of gas until a moment later, when it smacked into the metallic hull of the transport ship. It ricocheted off, but the computer in the head of the dart activated a strong magnetic pulse, drawing it back onto the hull.

     Once it had stopped sliding about, it expanded and flattened its point and began to noiselessly drill into the metal shell of the Cairo’s hull. A moment later when the drill halted, the screen in Okimbo’s hand flashing a green check mark and the words “ACQUISITION SUCCESSFUL”. The big Marine then reached up and hooked the thick metal link to a loop in the outer airlock designed specifically for the GAMAT. The gears in the device pulled the cable taut and he snapped on an attachment with three small wheels, locked into place on his right glove, over the cable. With an eye click, Okimbo activated the motor and the housing pulled Okimbo away from the airlock, and into space, heading towards the Cairo. One by one, the Marines followed behind him with their “wheels”, the transit taking three minutes to cross the estimated two hundred meters of space between the two ships.

     Sergeant Dixon went last. “Felix, am I still connected to the Morningstar’s uplink?”

     “Affirmative, Sergeant Dixon,” Felix replied. “Uplink connection remains strong.”

     “Record message,” he told the AI.

     “Recording.”

     “Babe, I got your message,” Dixon began. The message would record his face inside his helmet. “I’m on an op right now, but once I’m done, I’ll find my way back to you. Even if I have to steal a shuttle. I’ll be there, I promise. End message.”

     “Message packaged,” Felix said via his implant.

     “Whatever you do, don’t check your Geiger,” Duffy’s voice came over the team link. Of course, what he meant when he said that was “everyone take a look at the rads we’re getting.” Each of them eye clicked to select the Geiger-Muller read out, and their audio was suddenly filled with the rapid clicking sound of the radiation indicator. Dixon grunted as he saw the number – 137 roentgens. Not good. Their JEMAS suits would protect them from some of that, but not for long.

     “Breaching now,” came Sergeant Mallory’s voice over the squad link. Dixon tried to get a look at the Pony from his position and could see half of it on the other side of the Cairo. The rest was blocked by the large freighter. A flash of bright light painted the part he could see, and pieces of plastic and metal began to expand outwards from the part of the F-62 not visible.

     “Sergeant Mallory, report!” Lieutenant Bondevik was calling over the squad link. He would have the biometrics of everyone in the squad in his data center on the bridge. Dixon tried to crane his neck to see more of the shuttle, which was foolish. From his vantage point, that would accomplish nothing.

     “We’re here, Lieutenant,” Mallory replied a moment later. “IED went off in the soft skirt, Vasenev is down. His suit’s compromised, but we’re patching it now. Extending hard skirt now,” Apparently, Lance Corporal Vasenev had been hurt. The soft skirt had been made of a cloth material, but the hard skirt would extend the Pony’s mini airlock with hard metal the Marines would magnetically seal in place. Doing so was a risk to the Pony if the Cairo tried to maneuver, but Dixon guessed Mallory was beyond caring at that point.

     “You’re free to engage as necessary,” came Captain Keen’s pissed off voice. “They don’t want to play nice, so let’s teach ‘em some manners.”

     “You heard that, Sergeant,” Bondevik said.

     “Yes, sir,” Mallory replied, and then gunfire could be heard over the audio, picked up and retransmitted over the link by Felix. That wasn’t the sound of MX-50s, but small arms fire. Mallory confirmed that a moment later. “They’re taking shots at us through the skirt.”

     “Bravo Actual, report,” the Lieutenant came over the team’s channel.

     “Just got here, sir. Hooking up now.” Dixon replied as his boots touched the Cairo’s hull, magnetic settings flipping on. The other three Marines were already on the hull, with Laurent moving towards the panel over the access port. He then sent a quick private message to Felix. “Send recorded message through uplink connection. Flag as priority, and personal.”

     “Personal priority message sent to uplink,” Felix replied. “Six minutes to relay.” The queue had traffic that would have to be relayed before his message back to Earth could get to the front of the line. The duty clerk would have to review the message before it could be sent, but it would get sent. Another thirty-three minutes until the message was picked up by UEH satellites in Earth orbit. Dixon took a knee in front of the access panel.

     Lance Corporal Duffy caught his attention and opened a private suit-to-suit link. “You alright, boss?”

     Dixon nodded almost imperceptibly before turning back to Laurent. “Yeah, just some trouble at home. I’m in the game.”

     PFC Laurent brought up a datapad. A small box above the maintenance access point was open, and he had some wires and alligator clips crossing between the connection points. Sergeant Dixon saw a number of characters flying around the datapad’s screen as the splicer went to work to access the Cairo’s main computer and fool its AI into thinking this was an authorized access. Felix would be working to assist the splicer’s program.

     Sergeant Mallory had just ordered the tossing of several M84 grenades into the Cairo as the Marines on the Pony still had not managed to get through the airlock. These newer versions of the old stun grenade added an electromagnetic pulse designed to short out equipment in a small area, in addition to the bright flash and concussive effects. Apparently, it had the desired effect. 

     “Breach successful,” Mallory reported on the squad link. “One tango down, the others fled back down the corridor. We’re in the airlock.”

     “Give me an update, Bravo Actual,” came Bondevik’s voice on the team link.

     PFC Laurent held up one finger over his shoulder without looking away from his datapad. “Sixty seconds, LT,” Dixon replied. Okimbo was disconnecting the tether to the GAMAT. He depressed a button to the side of the drill bit and the line silently snapped back towards Morningstar.

     Laurent added context over the link. “Access point under my control. Ship is clearing atmo from the compartment just inside the bulkhead, then it should open.”

     A few seconds later, and a green LED indicator on the access hatch turned on and the panel slid aside. “Okimbo, Duffy, me.  Laurent, purge the buffer and follow.” PFC Laurent would remove any evidence of his hacking in case someone went looking.

     The giant Namibian barely made it through the hatch, floating down the small ladder to land on the deck inside, before moving off to the right and out of view. Duffy followed, and Dixon went right behind him. It took another moment for Laurent to remove his equipment and trigger the reverse of the pressurization action before quickly pulling out his splicer and floating down the ladder. The access point closed right behind him and air began to flood the compartment immediately after, pressurizing.

     “Annnd we’re out,” the private said of the network, as he stowed his splicer. The whole infiltration action would go unnoticed by the Cairo’s AI, and control was now returned to the main computer. The team’s access to the command and squad link had gone passive. They could transmit if they had to, but Felix would keep those links silent as to not distract them and make it difficult to hear ambient noise.

   Okimbo had removed his MX-50 and was pointing it at the door. Duffy stood to the other side of the door doing likewise.  Dixon was back and to the left, in a position that would keep the others outside of the lethality envelope of his weapon, but still allow him to provide an overlapping field of fire. Laurent slid to his knees below everyone, pulling the panel out from the bulkhead door. Within two seconds, the door beeped twice and slid to the side.

     The interior beyond was cavernous and dark. Dim lighting came from far above, enough to illuminate the numerous stacks of cargo containers stored in rows throughout the main storage area of the freighter.

There was about a meter’s clearance on a suspended walkway that ran along the periphery, easily twenty meters above the floor. Ladders were placed periodically along the walkway, leading down into relative darkness. Felix automatically switched the team optics to a combination of night vision, with a thermal enhanced overlay whenever significant heat sources were detected. Nothing was moving in the cargo area.

       Okimbo went left outside of the door, and Duffy went right. Both took a knee and panned their areas of responsibility. Dixon followed, and Laurent trailed him. HUD data showed the grav plating below was set to 0.1g, which would allow them to leap off the walkway if they wanted, but that would sacrifice stealth. The JEMAS suit was a heavy piece of equipment, and the high ceilings would echo as their boots connected with the floor. Dixon deftly slid his rifle back over his right shoulder, where it clicked into place. There was no way he could fit through the opening that led down, so he pulled himself over the rail and under the platform until he was able to grab the ladder, keeping three points of contact at all times until he reached the bottom. His rifle was back out and he took a knee. Okimbo went next, followed by Duffy and finally Laurent.

     A high-pitched mechanical sound whirled about overhead. Felix came over the link. “Drone activity detected.” Sergeant Dixon’s left hand came up to signal Duffy and then he angled a knife hand in the direction above. Duffy nodded once and depressed a button on an under barrel attachment to his MX-50. There was a soft whine as the jammer spooled up, and he angled the weapon toward the sound far above, looking through the scope. He could have just used his HUD to track in on the drone, but old habits die hard. He would get one shot before it would take a few minutes for the jammer to recharge.

     An orange highlighted heat source flew past the top of one of the stacks of containers before disappearing behind another. Duffy tried to track it, but it had moved too quickly. He would only try to jam it if he believed it had located them. It could just be the ship’s AI doing a routine check of the cargo area for unauthorized personnel, to check that containers hadn’t shifted, or for something as simple as the presence of rats. Since the dawn of time, rats had found their way onto every transport ship humanity had ever sailed, even in space.

     The sound of gunfire echoed throughout the cargo bay. That would be where Alpha and Charlie were engaged. It sounded quite a ways off. Dixon opened the link to the squad channel while Duffy continued to search the area above them for the drone, which was still whizzing around somewhere up there.

     “Bravo Actual,” Dixon said into the link. “We’re in the main cargo bay, no contact. Schematic says there’s a terminal link on the other side of the bay, headed there now. Laurent is gonna have a try at the local wireless, but it’ll take a few.”

     It was a few seconds before the Lieutenant responded. “Copy that, Sergeant. Mallory is engaged with an unknown number of hostiles thirty meters from the main airlock on deck two. Alpha Team is trading shots through the chow hall while Charlie attempted to flank using a passageway that led behind the communications access point.” The visor of Dixon’s helmet had pulled up a ghostly image of the Cairo’s schematic, with two enhanced sections of green showing Alpha and Charlie Team, and two large blobs of red in the vicinity of both of them. The larger was to the front of Alpha Team and a smaller enemy force had cut off Charlie’s attempt to flank. “They ran into another group that was trying to flank them.”

     “I thought we were expecting ten to twelve bad guys,” Dixon pointed out, referring to the original assessment by Naval Intelligence.

     “Ayup. So did I,” Bondevik replied dryly. “Get that computer, and let’s hope they haven’t wiped it yet. Then get your team behind the force harassing Charlie and link up with them to circle back on the main force engaged with Alpha.”

     “Solid copy,” Dixon replied, pumping his left fist once up and down to tell the team to move out. Okimbo took point, with Duffy and Dixon following, and Laurent bringing up the rear.  They were heading towards the far wall of the massive bay, weaving around several stacks of shipping containers, each large enough to hold about seven hundred cubic meters. Suddenly, Okimbo left his feet and flew through the air to his left. He smashed into a stack on the far side with a loud, metallic bang and rolled. The pile of containers shifted and wobbled for a second, but thankfully did not fall. Okimbo’s vitals were still showing in the green on Dixon’s HUD, but he had clearly been stunned.

     At first, Dixon thought the big man had tripped over an improvised explosive device, but there was no flash of light or accompanying shrapnel. Then he saw the large metallic arm that had struck the Marine lower, and the large automech to which it belonged step around the container and square off in front of Duffy. The recon Marine had stepped backwards quickly to get out of range of the long arms. Automechs were controlled remotely, so obviously someone had seen Bravo Team coming. Dixon and Laurent had raised their rifles, but had not fired, as firing would not only accomplish little against the steel frame of the bot, but alert everyone else where they were.  Duffy, however, angled up his rifle and activated the jammer under barrel attachment. A pulse of static leapt from the weapon to the mech, and arches of electricity flared around random sections of the machine, coalescing around the battery packs. It froze up, tilted forward and smashed into the deck, unmoving.

     Dixon was at Okimbo’s side as the big man began to stand up, shaking his head once to clear it. “Didn’t see that coming.”

     “Yeah,” was all Dixon replied. He hadn’t either. “Let’s move.”

     “Someone knows we’re in here,” Duffy tried to crane his neck to see if he could find the observation deck over the cargo area, but he could not see it from where they stood.

     “The local area network just went down,” PFC Laurent noted. “Hard point access only now.”

     “Surprised it took this long for them to pull the plug,” Duffy murmured. Okimbo was back out in front, and made a right turn at the end of the cargo container they were beside. Duffy was next, and the rest followed in an organized line.

     “Thirty-two meters,” Dixon noted, even though all of them could see the destination waypoint in their HUD. That was where the main cargo terminal access was supposed to be, according to the published Continental Class schematic from Herschwild Astronomy, the company who designed the freighter. Gunfire continued in the distance, but it was getting louder the closer they got to the engagement.

     As they rounded another container, Okimbo came over the team link. “I see the terminal.” The stack of cargo frames ended in an open area about ten meters deep, spanning the length of the bay. The bay’s front wall (defined as such from the schematic) was lined with shelving, lockers, and two ladders that led up to a continuation of the walkway they had been on earlier.  A door connected to the walkway followed into Cargo Control, and a glass bubble protruded outward from the superstructure to overlook the area. The platform wrapped itself around that extension in a way that let the operator see most of the bay from the top, and control the crane attached to the ceiling. There were two individuals up there, and both spotted the Marines as they exited the stacks, moving quickly to the terminal attached to the wall. Duffy and Dixon saw the operators take note of them.

     “We’re made,” Duffy said as he angled his rifle at the lower section of the glass beside the walkway. One of the men inside sprinted away to somewhere, and the woman ducked back behind a piece of equipment. Laurent did not delay, rushing to the terminal and pulling forth a wire from his pack to plug into the underside of the terminal. Felix would now infiltrate the main computer in an attempt to pilfer anything he could.

     “Main computer data purge is underway,” Hegemony’s AI reported to the team. “It is sixty-seven percent complete, and just under two minutes from full deletion. I have neutralized the Cairo’s native AI, and am attempting to halt the purge process while transferring the accessible data and navigational information to Morningstar.”

     A concussive explosion went off somewhere down a hallway to Bravo Team’s left.  There were two passageways leading out of the storage bay that could be seen from their position, but dust and small items began to roll or flop towards one of them. Immediately, LED strobes began flashing from the ceiling overhead, and blaring buzzer sounded off in a pre-programmed cadence.

     “The ship is reporting decompression danger, but with the AI off-line, emergency bulkheads are not shutting,” Felix reported over the squad link. “I do not have access to them at this time.”

     “One of these dumbasses thought it was a good idea to lob a grenade at us. Blew out a weakened support beam.” Sergeant Mallory explained. “Half of these guys don’t even have skin suits.”

     “Welp,” Lieutenant Bondevik said. “They’ll stop shooting at you when they die from vacuum.”

     Okimbo suddenly fired a three-round burst up into the walkway area. His HUD target assist automatically highlighted the bad guy who had come out from the observation area, painting the tango for the rest of the team. Duffy turned at the sound to add fire, but the enemy had already slumped backwards against the railing, one arm dangling over.

     “Contact,” Okimbo remarked dryly in his deep voice, after the fact. The air in the cargo bay had continued to drain out, until suddenly both the decompression alarm and gunfire went silent. The strobes continued, and Dixon read “NO ATMOSPHERE” on his HUD.

     Two crewmembers, both wearing pressure suits, poured out of one of the hallways to the left, with one dropping instantly to his knee as he noticed the Marines. Another, a woman, kept running. The one kneeling got off an impressive shot and the round struck PFC Laurent in the back of the helmet as he was fiddling with the terminal. It was a small caliber weapon, and so wasn’t enough to break through the private’s sturdy helmet. Still, it knocked his head forward and he smacked into the wall right beside the computer. Dixon put the man down with two single shots. Duffy tracked the woman, but his HUD could not identify a weapon in her possession, so he didn’t fire. She disappeared behind a stack of containers. Okimbo had rushed over to Laurent but he was already getting up. He turned his head so the big Namibian could get a look. There was a pulverized slug stuck in between a bent piece of the helmet. Okimbo shook his own head and smiled.

     “Lucky bastard.”

     “Sir, we’ve got two tangos down, one that ran deeper into the cargo bay, and one potential up in the observation area above us,” Dixon sent over the squad link, still panning around the area looking for the next threat.

     “Solid copy, Sergeant Dixon. Alpha Actual, report,” Bondevik ordered.

     “Everyone here is either dead from decompression, trauma, or some combination of both,” Mallory replied. “We’re moving toward the bridge now.”

     “Alright, listen up. Felix is saying he got what data he could, but everything else got purged. Intel is reviewing it now,” the Lieutenant told them. “But Felix is also warning that your on-the-run tango could be headed for the engine compartment. He says he’s shutting down the reactor, but it’ll take a bit, and your tango could still blow it up while it’s in shutdown. Your new task is to apprehend, if possible. Eliminate, if not.”

     “Solid copy, sir,” Dixon replied, before switching to the team chat. “We’re Oscar Mike. You okay, private?”

     “Just got my bell rung, Sergeant,” Laurent replied, disconnecting his pack from the terminal.

     “Lucky bastard,” Okimbo repeated with a smile they could see through his faceplate.

     “Take point, Okimbo. Back the way we came.”

     “Yes, Sergeant.”

     Bravo Team moved as one, with the big Marine taking the lead, and Duffy right behind him. Dixon followed, and Laurent brought up the rear. They retraced their steps back toward the area of the cargo bay they had come in through originally, but this time they proceeded down a relatively wide corridor instead of taking the ladder back up to the catwalk. They passed a door on their right that was closed-schematic labeled it as “STORAGE - SECURITY”-with the panel that controlled it ripped clean off and laying on the floor. Exposed wires flashed with a spark every now and then. If there were oxygen available, they might be burning.

     “Think she went in there?” Okimbo asked, but Laurent was shaking his head.

     “No, whoever fucked with that had no idea how to hotwire a door,” he said. “Judging by the schematic, they were probably trying to get a weapon.”

     “Chic who came this way didn’t have a weapon,” Duffy added, as if to agree.

     “Exactly,” Laurent poked a finger toward the Lance Corporal.

     “Alright, keep moving, we have an objective to secure,” Dixon replied. “If we don’t find her in engineering, we’ll double back to look.”

     “No one is in engineering, Sergeant Dixon,” Felix announced over the team link. “There are two other corridors that lead to-” At that moment, a small woman came around the corner toward them with her hands high above her head in surrender.

     Okimbo activated his external speakers and raised his rifle threatening. “Down on the floor now!”

     “No air,” Duffy said over the link, indicating that she would not be able to hear Okimbo’s commands. But while the woman could not hear him, she definitely understood his body action.  She lowered herself to one knee, then to the other. Both hands were placed behind her head.

     “Felix, can you get me a link to her implant?” Dixon asked the AI.

     “Yes, Sergeant,” Felix replied. “She has been added to a secondary team channel designated Bravo-2.”

        Dixon eye clicked the link to activate it. “That’s good,” he said to her. “Stay in that position. Do you have any weapons on you?” 

“No,” she replied. “No weapons.”

    “Did you plant any explosives or booby trap anything?” Dixon asked.

     She laughed, a bitter sound that transmitted over the implant link. “I wouldn’t know how to trap something if I wanted to. I’m the ship’s medic. Just a medic.”

     “Why were you running?” Duffy asked. She glared up at him for a moment as if he were an idiot.

     “Because you fuckers were shooting everything and everyone,” she said.  Dixon thought her accent might be Chinese, and she definitely had Asian features he could see through her thin faceplate.  Okimbo laughed, walking past her to take a position where the corridor turned, checking to see that no one else was there.  Duffy went back the way they had come from to stand guard at the entrance to the cargo bay.  Laurent took a pair of magnetic cuffs out of his pack and went behind the woman to take one wrist and then the other and connect them.

     “What’s your name?” Dixon asked, crouching down. She glanced warily at his rifle, but he moved it to the side and into a less threatening position.

     “Vivian,” she said.

     “Alright, Vivian. Hold tight a moment. We’re not gonna hurt you so long as you play nice, you understand me?” He looked her directly in the eyes. She nodded, relaxing only slightly.

     Dixon stood back up and made eye contact with Laurent. Watch her. The private nodded. Then Dixon activated the squad link. “Lieutenant Bondevik, we have one in custody. Felix says engineering is secure.”

     “Copy that, Sergeant. Mallory has the bridge, and Felix has control of the main computer. He says there’s no more bad guys alive other than your guy.”

     “Girl, sir,” Dixon corrected.

     “I see,” Bondevik said, after a moment. “Alright, bring her back to the Pony. Intel wants her back right away, so send one of your guys back to escort her.”

     “Solid copy, sir,” Dixon replied. “I’m going to bring her back personally. Need to discuss something with you, sir. Duffy will take Bravo until everyone comes back to Morningstar.” Something in Sergent Dixon’s tone was different, and Bondevik picked up on it. Dixon knew he would.

     There was a brief pause, and the Lieutenant agreed. “Alright, Sergeant, head back. Drop off the nice lady with intel and come find me on the bridge. Duffy, you’ve got Bravo until further notice.”

     “Yes, sir,” Duffy said, walking toward Dixon and switching to a private channel with him. “This about what you said before? Trouble at home?”

     “Yep,” the sergeant replied. “Cover for me?”

     “Bear shit in the woods?”

     Dixon gave him a weak smile. “Thanks, brother.”

***

     It was six days later. Sergeant Leonard Dixon had hopped a resupply transport at Europa station after Morningstar had brought the Cairo in at the behest of Hegemony State Security. Civilian transports were considerably slower than military ones, with smaller slip space drives, but it had been his only option. A short stay in Hegemony’s Unity Station to catch a local transit to the Tsiolkovsky space elevator, and then a ride down to the surface, before catching a flight from Mariscal Sucre International in Ecuador to Houston. The last leg had been to grab a small air transport to Montgomery, Alabama.

     He had repeatedly tried to get Sarah on a link ever since he could connect with Earth’s VirtualNet, but she had not answered. He had then tried her brother, Davis, only to learn that she was still in Montgomery Hope. Davis had said she had undergone several surgeries to try to get rid of the cancer, and they had actually managed to remove most of the abnormal breast tissue, but they had also discovered it had metastasized to the liver and lungs in an aggressive manner. Within a week’s time, she had gone from the scared little woman he had seen in the recording to a barely conscious, highly medicated hospice patient.

     Now, sitting at Sarah’s bedside and holding her hand, he was waiting to speak to the doctor. A plethora of holographic information floated about the wall near her head. Her skin was more gray than the dark brown he had remembered, but perhaps that was just his imagination. Her long hair had been shaved, and there were two data nodes attached to the section right below where her implant was. She was snug, wrapped tight in a heated blanked to keep warm, but he knew her form, and there was no mistaking she had undergone a double mastectomy. She hadn’t woken up yet, and her brother told him that when she was awake, she only experienced brief periods of lucidity due to the medication. Davis was asleep in the waiting room, having left to give Dixon time with his wife.

     “I’m sorry, babe,” he said to her unconscious form. A small tube of oxygen was running from somewhere under the blanket into her nose, but otherwise she looked peaceful. “I can’t, I mean…I don’t know-”

     “Mr. Dixon?” came a female voice from behind him. He stood up immediately and turned to see the doctor. The woman’s eyes dropped for a moment to the chevrons on his uniform collar, and she was familiar enough with them to recognize what they meant. “Sorry, Sergeant Dixon.”

     He accepted her apology with a brief nod, and turned back towards his sleeping wife. “I just got here and-”

      “Why don’t we step out here for a few so we don’t disturb her?” she turned and waved her left arm toward the corridor. He gave Sarah one more glance and then turned smartly to follow the doctor. He closed the door, taking care to do it silently. The doctor was watching him with a look of clinical detachment that couldn’t quite extinguish the compassion in her eyes no matter how hard she had tried to shield her humanity with it over the length of her career.

     “I’m no medical expert,” Dixon began, managing to keep his voice steady through years of his own training. “But this doesn’t look good.”

     “It’s not good, Sergeant,” the doctor confirmed softly. “She has a very aggressive strain of breast cancer called Triple Negative Breast Cancer, or TNBC for short.”

     “Right, I…I looked it up on the VNet on the flights over.”

     “Yes. Well, then you know that this moves fast once discovered. In your wife’s case, it had been moving fast even before we found it, and we’ve had to remove parts of her liver and left lung. There’s still quite a bit of it, and its clearly in her blood stream.”

     “But what about DONT?” he asked, referring to Directed Oncological Nano Therapy. Most types of cancer could be treated with dosages of nano machine that were directed by sonar to specific cancer cells, where they would attack only those compromised cells.

     “She’s already under nano therapy, but DONT works only when there are enough good cells that the patient can survive once the bad ones are eliminated,” the doctor explained. She walked over to the wall, to the data screen there. She tapped on a few icons, and a holographic body diagram appeared above the screen. She tapped again and sections of red covered vast areas of the image’s lungs and portions of the stomach area.

     “That’s where the cancer is,” Dixon guessed.

     “Yes,” her lungs are sixty-five percent compromised at this point, give or take. We can grow her new ones, and a new liver, but anything we put into her will probably have spots on it in a few weeks.”

     “Probably? That means there’s still-” he stopped when she raised a hand and shook her head.

     “This is the real problem.” The doctor pressed something else, and Sarah’s skeletal structure came to the foreground of the image. Most of her skeletal system had splotches of red, some very large. The pelvic area was almost entirely red. “It’s in her bones at this point, Sergeant.  It is literally everywhere. There are even spots beginning to show on the brain, but the nanites are keeping that at bay for now.”

     Dixon said nothing for a long moment, looking at the ground, and the doctor just watched him patiently. She quietly turned off the holographic image, and the data screen returned to monitor mode. He finally glanced back up. “How long?”

     He could see that she had expected this question, for she was already nodding. “I can’t say for sure, but…days. I’m sorry, Sergeant.” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to discuss. You can get the orderly with the service button inside, and he’ll come find me.”

     Dixon wanted to thank her. He wanted to ask her about other options, but he couldn’t speak at all. He didn’t trust himself to. He just noted her walking away in his peripheral view as he focused on some random spot on the wall.

     Then he pursed his lips and walked back inside to be with his wife.

 -CS