J Mauldin - Final Solution

“Let’s get Doc.” I waved a hand to call for help.

“No time, we only have ten minutes. Everyone needs to get on their soft suits.”

“I’ll call him anyways. A lot of good you’ll be in a fight hurting like this.” I caressed the skin around her face, careful to avoid the serious burns. Below her dark flesh the skin was already turning pink and ashy, her birthmark having vanished among the various second degree heat and chemical burns. I pressed the medical emergency button on my watch and waited, holding her hand.

“Is he?” Griffin asked the XO.

He nodded gravely. “Looks like Kelly’s skin was cooked away and his heart exploded. He’s dead. Damn it.” The doors finally opened. “Hey, Brix, come get this asshole’s corpse off our bridge.”

Brix shouldered in and dead lifted Kelly’s corpse, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

Rosaleigh spun around in her chair. “Ma’am. They’re about to come around. The Razor will be free in two minutes.”

“Copy that.” Liberty stood in front of her chair, holding my arm to steady herself. “Everyone suit up. We might have had a spy on board, but we stick to the plan. Soft suits and magnet boots. Let’s end this.”

Mutually assured destruction was a phrase often thrown about in our line of work. Our weapons were so powerful that there were no known materials to protect us from them. Impact, anywhere on the ship, would expose us to the unforgiving void, ushering us forth onto death with all due haste. Despite all our high technology, our engagement had been reduced to a pair of 17th century dandies facing one another broadside with single shot pistols. To win the fight, we merely need shoot the enemy before they shot us. Ships did not pound away at one another for hours, taking dastardly maneuvers or pulling last second cheap tricks. Aim and reflex would win the day, along with a healthy measure of luck and God’s favor. Trial by combat. A duel to the death.

Doc arrived with the Nurse. He put a strip of false skin across Liberty’s fresh burns and gave her an injection to numb the pain. He’d suggested morphine, but she needed her head clear and opted for a local anesthetic instead. From the look of her expression it didn’t appear to be helping.

Smith bristled at me. “Nice job, Goddard. You took out half my controls with that damned contraption. How the hell am I gonna be the Comm now?”

“But I’m still alive,” Liberty said, coming to my defense. “Microwave gun?”

“Microwave gun,” I agreed while cutting Smith a scowl.

“Great for pranks,” the words groaned out of Liberty. “But let’s keep it off the bridge next time.”

After Doc finished she began sliding on her soft suit, one leg at a time along with everyone else. This was my cue to leave.

“David,” Liberty said, a longing in her eyes.

“I know.” I kissed her on the left side of her face, careful not to touch her burns.

The timer on my watch hit zero and a roaring klaxon sounded. The Vindicator flashed red. The fight had begun.

Rosaleigh began her reports, “Range, one point one million kilometers. They’re on our visual scopes. Hell yeah, looks like they’ve taken quite a pounding. Two solid boosters, non-functional. Their secondary reactor is disabled. Auxiliary solar array is ripped up like tissue paper. I can see some damage to their nuclear battery ring as well, but it’s minor.”

Liberty slipped on her fishbowl helmet. “Excellent. Goddard, weapons.” I nodded and ran off as fast as I could.

“General quarters,” XO called over the intercom. “ Suit up and report to your stations. Enemy fire will commence momentarily.”

As soon as I’d returned to weapons control I threw on my soft suit. It was heavy, but not anything like a full EVA rig. It was a few sizes larger than a jumpsuit, similarly colored with stiff, grey fabric trimmed in red. Oxygen canisters lined the back of its belt, as did a small power unit that supplied heating, cooling, and gas exchange. I wiggled my fingers into the gloves, stepped side to side, and was relieved that the joints felt loose. It was like wearing an oversized set of coveralls with a weighted belt. I took a deep breath and put on my helmet, fully aware of the tightening space I was being pressed into.

Rosaleigh, Smith, and Liberty’s voices chattered in my helmet as communication was streamed around the ship. I took a step in the suit and felt sluggish, but knew that when we got hit, and it would happen, I’d rather not try and breathe vacuum.

The bridge: “They’re powering up.”

“Griffin, power core.” I waved a hand at her, the first two fingers extended.

“On my way.”

“Incoming fire from the Razor.”

Liberty: “Rotate the ship, keep us facing towards them, like we’re backing off. Face on, they’ll have less surface area to hit.”

Rosaleigh: “Already adjusting our pitch, ma’am.”

The Razor fired but I could see nothing, hear nothing but my own heavy breaths inside the helmet. The suit smelled of chlorine just like the air scrubbers, almost too clean for comfort.

There was no big buildup, no watching a red dot as it zipped across a view screen. There was nothing at all. The room flashed red, and the sound of our alarms faded into the background, muffled by the tempered glass of my helmet.

“The Razor’s shot missed.”

“Excellent. Goddard?”

“Loading projectile. Rails powering up. Griffin?”

“All set, sir. Ready for power reset. Captain?”

“Ready to fire. Taking aim.”

The ship hissed and fizzled. For a moment I thought I felt my fingers tingle as the massive EMF washed over us. Griffin gagged over the com channel. Five seconds passed.

“Direct hit on the Razor. Took a chunk right out of their propulsion section.”

Liberty: “Get ready to fire again.”

I made the necessary actions. Batteries checked. Loaded into place. Wait. Fire. Repeat.

“We missed by five degrees, they pushed her out of the way. Incoming.”

The shot whizzed past our ship without making contact. Another lucky moment.

“Goddard? Ready?”

“Ready, Captain.”

“Firing.”

The Vindicator groaned and went black. A reset. It was up to Griffin to restore power. I impatiently waited on her, counting off the agonizing seconds.

One. Darkness. My father was in prison. He had to be freed when we got back.

Two. Deep breaths. Liberty wanted to change the world. She was the one for the job.

Three. Panic rising in my chest. Ignore it. We had to commit treason in order to do what was right. To hold our government hostage for a better future.

Four. Rapid heartbeat. Shaking right hand. I just want to see the system at peace, happiness. I want to see the dreams of our red world return to us, to grow, to terraform.

Five. A sense of being trapped. Force it away. All I wanted was to be with her, alive, watching the sun set.

Six. The lights came back on. The helmet’s com channel came back up.

“Incoming!” Rosaleigh shouted into my ear.

Liberty: “Evasive maneuvers. Flash navigational burn, positive y, any value!”

There was no time for me to contemplate what a projectile traveling 220,000 km/s could do when hitting us broadside. I felt the pressure in the cabin shift, turned to see the hatches in weapons control slam shut. I checked a status display and saw that the shot had taken us right through the Power Core.

“Griffin, report,” I growled. No response. I overrode the hatch controls and worked my way through the cargo bay. The ship had readjusted pressure, removed and stored all air it could save. I was now in vacuum, our ship blown off course the result of rapid decompression.