Randolph Lalonde - Fragments

“What about the rest of the crew?”

“They’re takin’ armfuls from Everin’s people, when they get here things are gonna get stacked right quick. Need anyone to head into the ship and pick up some of the heavier gear? We’re all finished taking what we could from the upper decks.”

“Paula’s got operations here covered. Head into the manufacturing section and see if you can get one of the medium materializers or mass converters ready for transport.”

“That’s going to be murder to get out without pulling a few hundred bolts.”

“Cut the deck out from under it if you have to. Consider it a timed challenge. You have twenty minutes, tops.”

“Aye, we’re on it. Makes me wish Chief Vercelli were here, he’d have some idea how that’s done.”

“I’m just glad we still have Paula.”

“She’s a bit of a screecher, but I haven’t seen much better, fine replacement.”

“Oh, while you’re in the manufacturing bay, have any extra hands you see take finished work and stuff it into containers, we’re taking everything we can.”

“Aye, I’ll watch for guns and ammunition first.”

“Good thinking, Chief. Get to it.”

“Aye, Commander.”

The main freight elevator arrived with the third or fourth load of people from the lower decks, engineering and the Botanical Gallery. Everyone was laden with bags, personal items wrapped up in blankets, footlockers and bags of all different shapes and sizes. Just watching them join the growing mass of civilians and crew members was enough to emotionally exhaust him. Few people paid attention to Oz, standing about twenty meters away from the growing crowd. He served for such a short time on Triton that few, if any of the crew members had a chance to get used to him. Before the defence of the ship began all of the respect he enjoyed was borrowed, on loan to him from Captain Valance. Since then he’d managed to gain the respect or the security and gunnery staff.

If Frost didn’t have a bond with his people before, it was evident that he’d developed one since they started fighting. To watch them, loaders, mechanics and gunners, move from one task to the next like one coordinated unit was to see plain evidence of how they had come together. Chief Grady had united his technical teams, and led them in maintaining the security and functionality of the Triton’s critical systems. In situations where Oz was forced to use man power and firepower Liam Grady found ways to use doors, energy fields, and impassable traps. Trying to penetrate into the core of the engineering section of the ship became so dangerous, that the enemy had no choice but to turn their attention to the bridge. Agameg Price, not a Chief, but a versatile Lieutenant Commander, had gained the trust and allegiance of all the slave volunteers. Oz would have to find out where the shape shifter learned advanced ship combat tactics and how to keep so many people motivated under potentially confusing and terrifying circumstances.

“Is it all right if we begin grouping the civilians up so we can move them to the transports Commander McPatrick?” Asked one of the security staff from behind.

Oz thought for a moment. There was no contact from Jacob, Ayan, or anyone who had gotten free of the Triton early on. “Start organizing people into familial groups if you can. Don’t let them board the transports.”

“Familial groups?”

“Don’t split up families.”

“I know, but at most I think there are a few married civvies, not many whole families.”

“If people look like they want to stick together, make sure they stay together.”

“Aye, aye sir.”

The Triton soldiers he was seeing were a far cry from what they were before the fighting began. Those who survived had seen ship board combat that made everything any of them had ever experienced pale in comparison. The fighting was beyond Oz’s experience as well. Not even Pandem was as relentless, or as painful. The memory of his particle rifle rattling against his shoulder was so vivid that it was like a phantom sensation, real the instant he conjured it. The feeling of being shot, and the emergency medical technology kicking in at the same time as the emergency stasis drugs was at the top of his mind as well. He understood Jacob Valance more clearly than ever before. The man had died at least twice, and it must have been a mind blowing, life changing thing each time. The pain was only a notification that something had happened. When the pain stopped, the real changing experience began, and for Oz it was the fading of light from the outer edges, until all that was left were memories, concerns, and parting thoughts. His sisters, nieces, nephews, and the people he was failing filled his thoughts. Oz had heard some soldiers who passed the brink say it was about letting go, falling free from the world, but for him it was like trying to keep his head above water in a black sea, putting every ounce of effort into taking another breath, grasping at the fleeting light and finally fighting the terrible numbness.

His rational mind knew his heart had stopped beating, his wounds were too great for the medical system built into his ribcage using technology developed by Doctor Anderson and Freeground Special Projects, to heal while he was moving. Medication was being administered, what he was feeling may have felt like dying, but it was actually deep stasis. It didn’t make a damn of a difference emotionally. The lights were going out and he was being pulled out of the fight. When he watched the enemy commander raise his pistol and point it at his forehead, he was sure he had seen his last fire fight.

“Sir, the Clever Dream is incoming,” Announced one of the Triton security officers nearby.

Oz looked to the rear of the hangar and could see two armed transports docking, but that’s all. “Where are they?”

“Just caught a glimpse of them sliding into the landing bay below. They should be coming up the elevator soon.”

“Someone’s jamming their signal.”

“What should we do sir?”

Oz’s eye caught sight of the fellow, he was several meters away helping to organize the civilians and the first of the liberated slaves. His armour showed signs of repair, and his rifle the scratches, dents and burn through spots on the casing that told him he was looking at one of the security officers who had been right in the middle of the fighting. He could tell from the shrapnel pattern across his shoulder that it was Tim Vernon, one of the last surviving bridge security officers. “We make sure they’re safe and clear of any interference once they’re on deck.”

“Yes sir.”

There wasn’t much chance of random interference. The Carthans hadn’t put any armed personnel on the deck yet, and they hadn’t made any demands other than the general evacuation of the ship. Jason was right, this was political. Oz only hoped that they were doing the right thing by abandoning the best ship they had.

Ashley emerged with the next group on the cargo elevator. Zoe’s head swivelled to and fro, her eyes taking everything in from where she sat in the young woman’s arms. With an excited cry that Oz could hear from where he was standing Zoe nearly leapt out of Ashley’s arms, finding her way to the deck suddenly, roughly. To his relief, the youngster didn’t hurt herself in her haste, and she ran between the legs of started survivors.

In scant seconds she made it across the growing crowd of civilians to a woman with long dark hair who knelt down to catch the eager child. Zoe collided with the woman so soundly that she was forced from kneeling to sitting. It was the sight of a glad reunion.

That was until he looked back to Ashley, whose vacant arms were slowly lowering. In the corner of his eye, Oz could see the black hull of the Clever Dream rising on one of the main elevation pads, but his attention on Ashley was unwavering. He was watching her slowly fall to pieces as she hesitantly turned away.