Tripper sat in the bar on the Briesen Mining Facility,
sipping his beer looking out the window.
The orange gasses outside filled the entire view. He was thinking of Morris, the little brat
would be seven by now. Tripper wondered
if he still wanted to join the Liberty Navy, or if he ever found out the name
of this nebula.
“The Walker Nebula.” Tripper said to nobody.
Business has been good.
Tripper just made a considerable amount of credits escorting three
transports from New London to this mining facility right outside the Rheinland
border. He knew he was flying into
dangerous space. Because he was a
Freelancer, last time he was in Rheinland, he did some grunt work for the
police and a little bit for the military as well. He was on friendly terms officially, but he
didn’t befriend every military officer and police Capitan. Even
though he has good rep with them, his ship was still registered in Liberty, and
if the Rheinland military ran into him, that would be reason enough to make
Tripper a person of suspect. He’s heard
stories about Rheinlandish type interrogations, and didn’t want any part of
them. But the pay for this run had been
substantial enough to numb those fears.
Tripper downed the last gulp from the mug, and left the bar
to find a gift shop. Morris would never
forgive him if he didn’t bring back a souvenir from the big orange snow
cloud.
***
Tripper was flying
through space back towards Bretonia, avoiding the trade lane. He thought he would have less chance to run
into the military that way. He had his
cruise engines on, and he was kicking back in the pilot’s seat listening to
some music when the proximity alarm started to activate. He sat strait in his seat, immediately going
through the routine to prepare for battle.
When he took a closer look at the sensors, he realized that the ships
that caused the alarm were two Rheinland military ships that were giving a
distress call. His heart sank. If they were pirates, or criminals, he knew
what to do; but they were military.
These ships had the potential to make things complicated for Tripper,
and he knew he should just keep flying.
But they were giving a distress signal.
They needed help.
Tripper’s humanity overcame his paranoia and he turned off
his auto pilot and changed course.
Ninety eight seconds later, Tripper came to the origin of
the signal. He was wrong about there
being only two ships. It would be better
to say there were two ships still intact, one ship that is barely recognizable
as a space fairing vessel, and enough wreckage to account for a fourth. Everything was damaged beyond function. A quick scan of nearby space turned up only
two pilot’s compartments. Tripper locked
onto them and beamed them into his cargo hold.
He then turned his ship around and set course for empty space. Whatever did this to the four ships might
come back, and he didn’t want to be caught snooping around.
The auto pilot was set to stop the ship after it got a
comfortable distance away from the wreckage.
In the meantime, Tripper quickly hurried back into the small cargo hold
of his Raven. The ship was built for
fighting, not moving cargo, but there was a small storage area that could hold
a dozen people, if they didn’t mind tight quarters. Tripper went to the closest pilot’s
compartment and looks into the window.
He saw a still face of a man in his mid forties. He reached for the latch with little hope for
the guy inside. When the pod opened, it
was obvious that the man was dead. The
blood vessels in his eyes had burst, and blood came from his nose, ears, and
mouth. His tongue was swollen and
sticking out, and some of his soft tissues around his eyes and under his chin had
burst open. This man died of
decompression. Tripper was sure that if
he inspected it, he would find some damage to the escape pod that this man’s precious
atmosphere leaked out through.
A pounding that came from the other pod made Tripper forget
the dead man in front of him. He jumped
to the second pod and opened it up immediately. A boy fell out and collapsed into his arms. The young man was covered in blood and
clutching at his gut.
“Oh thank heavens; I thought we were going to die out
there.” The pilot said as Tripper slowly
got him on the floor.
“Don’t thank anyone yet, you're hurt bad. Let me get my medical scanner.” Tripper moved back to the passageway between
the pilot’s seat and the bay to a small storage locker. He pulled out a package and returned to the
wounded boy. “What’s your name, son?” he
asked has he opened the kit and pulled out the scanner.
“Gustav. Liberty did
this. I’m hurt bad. . . on the inside”
Tripper’s eyes shot to Gustav. “Liberty?
Here in Omega 7?” Omega systems
were not connected directly to Liberty.
If they were here, then that means. . .
“Yes, Liberty. They
must have come through Bretonia. They
just showed up out of nowhere and opened fire.”
Bretonia was neutral in the war between Liberty and Rheinland. If they willfully allowed Liberty ships to
pass through their systems to execute an act of war, that would violate
Bretonia’s neutrality.
Gustav started coughing blood up and tripper finished his scan. There were several broken ribs. Some damage to the lung, but not much. The worst of it all was that the boy had a fractured
pelvis, and it had put a puncture in his right femoral artery. He was letting out a lot of blood into his
pelvic cavity.
“You’re not doing so hot, Gustav. How old are you?”
“Eighteen, sir.”
“Yeah? You have a
girl at home?”
Gustav managed a week smile.
“Did, sir. She just broke it off
three days ago. So it’s just me and my
folks.”
“I’m going to shoot it to you strait, Gustav. You need a surgeon in the next ten minutes,
but the closest one who can help you is about an hour away.“
The boy blinked back tears.
Tripper turned. “Maybe I can get
there in time.”
Gustav grabbed Tripper’s wrist. “No, don’t leave me.” Fear was showing in the boy’s eyes. He said the next sentence in short, gasping
breaths as his body went into shock. “I’m
not . . . going to make it, and . . . and I don’t. . . want . . . .to die alone.”
Tripper sat down by the boy.
“Where’s home?”
Gustav closed his eyes.
“Holstein. Planet Holstein. . .
From a city called Dachau. . .”
***
It only took him five minutes to die. Tripper, back in the cockpit, tractored in
the four ships black boxes and armaments and set course for Frankfurt
system.
No comments:
Post a Comment