Chapter 2

The CNS Boston rattled and rumbled as it began slowing nearing (2305) 2007 AT.  The bridge of the small battle ship smelled of cigars and stale processed air.  Besides the ambient noise of the ship, the bridge was quiet.  All were watching out the main window as they approached the silent rock.  Silent it has been too.

Two weeks ago, the corporate headquarters for McNichol's mining received an urgent but unusual message from the colony's foreman.  They had found something.  Immediately, the corporation contacted the Coalition Navy, which formed an expedition team along with a small military escort to augment the ten men squad that was already there.

What worried the Major was the fact that shortly after the ship left Earth orbit, all communication with the facility ceased.  Every attempt only resulted in static.  Some theorized that this was only a malfunction, they happened all the time with these small mining groups.  The equipment was not always the best, or even new.  Still, the marines there carried the best.  Any attempts to reach them ended the same.

Major Wright was not always the worrier.  Confident in the ability of the marines, he assured himself the miners were always safe from raiders and pirates.  This facility held ten men, with six mechanized infantry units, or as most called them Mechanized Assault Vehicles, or MAVs.  It would take a decent force of raiders to eliminate them.  The facts remained the same however, silence on the radio.

He had no rational explanation for the coms blackout from the mine.  Hence, he began to worry.  The closer they got to (2305) 2007 AT, the more he paced and smoked his cigars.  Any military commander hated jumping into a situation without any strategic or tactical information.  In essence, he was heading into a blind scenario and that indeed concerned him.

 Now he walked back and forth behind the Boston's commander, Commander Cliff Kersey.  Kersey was a good officer, disciplined and levelheaded.  Russell did not interfere with his command of the vessel.  No, Major Wright had far too much on his mind than to be concerned about the running of a ship.  His charge was the expedition and his marines onboard, Kersey could control the ship, and did so flawlessly.

Though Russell knew his trotting back and forth irritated the Commander, but Kersey said nothing, other than glancing at him with a stern eye, as if telling to sit and relax.  Russ could not.  He stopped watching out the window, as the rock grew closer.  Only darkness greeted his eyes.  No lights from a colony or landing area, No surface skimming tugs with bright halogen beams illuminating their path, just darkness.  It was as if they were approaching a ghost town.

 He heard the sliding of the door to the bridge; he did not bother to turn to see who entered.  He was fixated on the asteroid below.

"How does it fair," spoke the female who stepped beside him.

Doctor Zoey Anders was the last person he wanted to speak with right now.  The archeologist in charge of the 'find' irritated him so with her anti-military, anti-establishment horseshit.  As far as he was concerned this ungrateful Brazilian could crawl back under the rock she came from, taking with her the degree that the 'establishment gave her.  He sighed with a deep breath, actually, no, how he did enjoy their sparring rounds, she has made this trip interesting.  To be honest, he was glad she was standing next to him, he stopped his pacing.  Her political views truly did not bother him now; it was what laid ahead, the unknown.

"Nothing," he responded quietly, still gazing out the window.

"Don't you find that odd?"

He looked at her.  Her dark skin and her angular face causing her eerie pale blue eyes to stand out.  Almost as if they were glowing.  He knew they were not, that it was just simply an illusion played by his mind.  "Do you Doctor," he managed a slight sarcastic grin.

She turned toward the front portal, "Yes as a matter of fact, I do.  Shouldn't we be seeing some kind of light by now?"

"Yes, that whole portion of at the top of the rock should be lighting up space," he pointed.

"So it's much more than a simple communications problem."

"I would say so," he answered sullenly.

"Maybe it has something to do with what they found?"

"I would not dare to guess," he said.  He did not know what they discovered on this rock, other than the fact it was highly significant.  Many rumors ran through his unit like poisoned water flowing through a pasture, infecting all that came near.  Anywhere from ancient alien artifacts to the discovery of God, both at which he scoffed.  Aliens and God, he had no time for neither.  All he knew was they dug into an odd cavern that appeared not to be a natural occurrence.  He seen pictures of 'said' tunnels and he could not ascertain their creation, but he was not going to succumb to little green or gray men with black eyes and egg-shaped heads or the hand of God.

A raider base, dug deep into the heart of the asteroid was a concept that he preferred to believe in and provided him with solid answers.  If they found a hidden cache of stolen goods, well the owners would frown highly upon letting any of it go, thus explaining the blackout.  By now, he suspected that his men were dead or captured, along with the miners, and the pirates, well on their way to another hiding spot.

Realizing Zoey's stance on Corporation Authority he thought that bringing up that this could also be the responsibility of the Faction.  Most of their activity was political based, speeches at public forums, and so forth, but there was a small group�"ever growing�"that fought back.  They were actually responsible for a major attack on Tiberius Orbital Station.  Many were killed, mostly innocent women and children.  Where was the honor in that, how could a strike of that magnitude win anyone over?  The only thing it accomplished was the loss of credibility for the rest of Faction and forced the movement back to the beginning.

"Well, this also�""

"What the�"" the navigator yelled.

Kersey stood walking to the nav officer that sat next to the ships pilot.  "What?"

"Something just came up behind us," he said pointing to the radar.

"Something, can you be clearer lieutenant," Major Wright asked walking around the Commander's chair.

"A ship sir," the nav officer returned.

"What kind?"

"I'm not sure; I'm running it through the database now�""

Without warning the ship rocked as a loud roar reverberated through it.  The shock wave sent them all to the floor, bouncing off various control panels.  Smoke quickly filled the bridge as sparks flew from electronic panels.  Russell grabbed hold of the Commanders Chair pulling himself up as he watched the rock in front of them get rapidly closer.

Suddenly the asteroid ahead of them began to drop below his vision as the ship maneuvered from the collision course.  Turning, he watched the pilot fight the vessel for control, moving it from harm's way.  Kersey was also standing, reacting calmly, professional.

"Is it on Fire Control," he asked the Weapon's Officer sitting near the port sidewall.

"Yes sir!"

"Can we get a lock?"

"Already done sir!"

"Then get that son of a b***h off our a*s," the Commander ordered.

"Roger," the weapon's officer replied, running his hand quickly over a few buttons, then finally flipping up two small black and yellow guards and depressing four push buttons that lay beneath them.  Russell watched out the port side windows, spying six missiles rocket out of the port lower wing, he also knew that six more would be soaring out of the starboard side.  The missiles flew out in front of the craft then arced over and jetted toward the target behind them.

The Boston lurched sideways again as another explosion ripped through the hull somewhere in the rear of the ship.  This blast did not toss them around as much, they were somewhat prepared for it.  Soon after it, another blast nearly spun the ship, this one much larger than the other two and not an impact blast, but more like a shockwave caused by an explosion behind the ship.

The bridge crew cheered as the pilot regained control of the flailing craft.  Glancing at the radar, Russell saw the object.  Kersey saw the same as he moved toward the starboard side console, adjusting his blue leather military jacket.  "Damage," he asked the engineer at the desk.

"We lost hydroponics, flash fires are spreading throughout deck three, and we need to seal it."

"Do it."

"My men," Russell interrupted as he stepped next to the Commander.

"Acceptable losses!  Now seal off the deck and vent it now!"

Russell shook his head, he could not dispute the argument, the commander was right.  He knew some of his troops were below in the hold of the ship, but the rest were prepping on that deck.  He closed his eyes, acknowledging their deaths, though not looking forward to the letters he would have to write.

"Sealed sir," the officer said, "we also lost the hydrogen drive reactor.  The ion reactor is still on line, but we're not going too far fast."

"Damn," Kersey turned to him.  "We need to land somewhere close."

"Land here on 2305," suggested Russ.

"To be honest sir, I'd rather land her somewhere that we know is safe, I'm heading to Ceres."

Again, Russell did not want to argue.  His curiosity and concern for the activity on (2305) 2007 AT has grown vastly, which just now moved to a volatile situation.  However, he was in no shape to leap from the frying pan into the fire.  Unknowing of the status of his men, the amount of damage to the ship and their supplies, a firefight on the surface of the rock with limited and unprepared resources would only be a catastrophic failure.

Moving to the door he stopped to help Zoey get to her feet, she was bleeding from her forehead.  The cut was not bad, but it was a head wound, and it bled profusely.  He opened his combat belt pouch and removed a small gauze pack.  Tearing it open Russell took out the gauze, slid her wavy black hair out of the way, and pressed the makeshift bandage on her forehead.

* * *

Smoke swirled around her, it carrying with it the scents of burning electronics, oils, and flesh.  Doctor Lauren Beckett's eyes were stinging as she tried to focus in the dense near toxic cloud and heat.  Flames were dancing on the floor, and flickering in and out from behind panels.  Soldiers ran around the bay, one tossing her a gas mask to allow her to breathe as they fought the fires.  She stood, moving to the APC that she had previously loaded her gear.

Instinctively she grabbed her medical bag.  After giving it a quick glance, she moved around the massive six-wheel vehicle.  Pausing only briefly to assess the situation, she found men and women laying about in various degree of need.  Moving quickly to a fallen MAV, the twenty-foot tall assault vehicle had fallen on a marine that she had witness earlier inspecting it.  He was laying face down on the steel floor; the MAV's cockpit was sitting on his midsection, hiding the rest of his body.

Upon closer examination, she realized that she could not help this poor boy.  His body was literally smashed; all that remained was his upper torso and head.  She simply shook her head and turned to search for another in need of medical attention.  The gory sight did not shock her as it would most.  What saddens her was the fact she has become immune to such sights.  Being a medical doctor for the navy and the mining colonies, she has seen more than she truly cared for in the last three years of service.  As she knelt next a soldier that had a chest wound, she quickly removed a compression bandage and began strapping it around his chest.

Two years left, then private practice.  There would be no more industrial, military, or mining accidents for Lauren to contend with, just a simple life with patients, dealing with colds, flu, and every day medicine.  Her fiancé Allen Weingarten, a fellow doctor who was now barking orders to marines and ship crew as he worked to save other victims near the aft of the ship, had a plan.  It was nothing elaborate, buy a home, rent an office in some small town in North America, and start both a family and private practice.  Time could not move fast enough for her.  They both decided to hold off marriage until they finished their service requirement.  To be more accurate, it would be one year and three-hundred forty two days.

After finishing with the injured crewman, she turned, looking for help.  She needed to get him and the other to safety.  The fires were not extinguishing easy, soon they would need to vent the bay, and which is not conducive for human survival.  Two other crewmen, appearing to have only minor abrasion and bruises where passing nearby, holding their hands over their faces.  Standing, she waved to both, attracting the twos attention.

"Move him to the elevator," she said, pointing to the massive lift, which was a sealed unit that ascended all six decks of the ship.  "Then come back and get anyone you can."

Both men acknowledged her, allowing her to move to the next injured person.  She took only a few steps toward a young woman holding her arm which was at an odd angle when the bay's red warning lights and alarm horn sounded.  They were prepping to vent the atmosphere; she only had a few moments.  Running, she wrapped her arm around the girl and moved her to the lift.  "We need to get out now!" she yelled through the mask.

Lauren helped her into the lift, and then aided a few more as everyone was now hastily heading for safety.  It was a mass exodus for the elevator, no doubt, it could hold everyone, but she wanted to go back out.  Concerned for Allen, she needed to find him and ensure he was moving toward safety.  When Lauren reached the edge of the door, forcing her way through the wounded and those aiding them, she watched her fiancé run further away from the lift near the back ramp.

Pulling off her mask, she yelled to him, "Allen!"  The din within the chamber though was far too loud for him to hear her.  She noticed three others helping two more injured.  She saw Allen behind them for a brief instant.

She saw the ball of flames erupt before she heard the thunderous roar and felt the ship shake as if it were a in an earthquake.  The force knocked her back into the crowd, but she fought her way back up.  She had to find Allen.  Quickly she found him; he was hiding behind a pallet full of scientific equipment, the fireball dancing above his head.  As soon as the flames lashed outward, they instantly retreated, along with a rush of air, all making for the point where the explosion breached the hull.  There was about a four-foot tear in the bulkhead above the rear cargo door.

The five crewmen trying to make their way across the bay were gone instantly.  Allen's mistake was reaching out for one in a hope to catch him.  It happened in a blink of an eye before they closed the lift door, sealing them in.  She watched him lift off the deck; he turned and looked at her.  The image of his face as the force of the vacuum pulled him through the hole would remain in her memory forever.

She turned once in the safety of the lift and sunk to the floor.  Her mind was trying to grasp what she had just witnessed.  He was gone, ripped apart by the jagged edges of the tear, and frozen for eternity in the dark void of space.  She wanted to cry, but found herself unable as she lowered her head into her hands.