propulsion technician, so would have been near to where that Dracos barrage breached the hull. He was a good man, had a bright future ahead of him, Logameier often spoke of him.
“How many so far?” He asked the interns.
“That’s the fifth, sir.” They said before they wheeled the body away down the corridor to the ships morgue. It was times like these when he would give anything just to be a simple lieutenant again; spared of the responsibility of having to fill in killed in action reports, and informing next of kin that their wife, son, or husband had been killed in the line of duty. It was an awful reality of command, and one he did not relish performing.
Michael continued towards the hatch itself, pressing his wrist comm. “Kinraid, decompress and open the hatch.”
“Aye, sir.”
After a pause of a few seconds while Kinraid worked at his console on the bridge, a green panel alighted above the circular hatchway doors themselves, indicating it was safe to enter. Michael took two deep breaths and pressed the hatch release.
A blast of cold air rushed past him to fill up the small temporary inter-locking corridor between the Liberty and the Eisenhower, almost blowing him off his feet in the process. He gently pushed off the edge of the hatch, where the artificial gravity generated by the Liberties environmental systems ended, and weightlessness began. He floated slowly, silently along the delicate little corridor that connected the two ships, the sudden blast of cold made him shiver, even though it took only a matter of a few seconds to traverse the distance.
Once at the other side, a second hatch opened and allowed him egress onto the Eisenhower itself. Slowly, and rather clumsily Michael stepped onto the floor of the hatch, and artificial gravity resumed again.
It had been a long time since Michael had stepped within the confines of another E.D. F ship, the difference to what he was used to on the Liberty was startling, and he needed a few seconds to adjust to his new surroundings.
Instead of the Liberties ultra-modern, highly advanced Solarian derived systems, the Eisenhower was a relic in comparison. Clunky, utilitarian and heavy, instead of the customisable touch screen displays the Liberty possessed, the Eisenhower had keypads and strange monitors that jutted out from the walls at odd angles. This was all very strange to Michael, almost as though he was stepping into the past, into his time aboard the Ulysses.
A female officer approached him, escorted by two other junior officers, judging by the rank insignia’s on their epaulettes, he quickly found that one held the rank of lieutenant, the other a more senior lieutenant commander. The woman leading them was slim, in her early thirties, and had a gorgeous mane of auburn hair, tied neatly in a bun, she was not altogether unattractive, and bore the rank of commander. They all saluted Michael appropriately.
“Welcome aboard the Eisenhower, captain. I am Commander Erica Fontain, commanding officer of this vessel,” she motioned with her hand to introduce her accompanying officers, “This is Lieutenant Commander Ben Maddox, my executive officer, and this is Liu Chung my senior sensory officer. Both ourselves and the Arizona, have made shuttles ready for dispatch to get everyone off the surface quickly should the Dracos return in greater numbers. I trust you wish to begin the evacuation immediately?”
“Of course,” Michael replied. He was a little surprised to find merely a commander in charge of such a ship. Nevertheless, he had found in his experience, it was not always prudent to question the orders of the admiralty.
“If you would like to follow me, I’ll escort you to our hangar bay.”
Michael fell into step behind the entourage, which led him down a long, slightly cramped corridor, festooned with all manner of pipes and conduits overhead. The interior of the Eisenhower was painted in a traditional military olive green. This instantly signified to Michael that this was, in fact, an old ship. The engineering services stopped painting these ships that colour fifteen years ago, in favour of the more familiar battleship grey of today.
As they walked, commander Fontain spoke up, “it has been a great honour and a privilege for us, it’s not every day we get to walk with such a living icon as yourself. The Liberty, its crew, and your exploits throughout the Krenaran war are legendary to us.”
Michael was a little uncomfortable with the hero worship, “just doing what we had to do,” he replied meekly, sometimes he hated being the most decorated captain in the navy.
“I wish I could have been there with you, and experienced what you had experienced, the Eisenhower was mostly assigned to the defence of Charlie base at sigma XI, prior to gamma IV, far away from the fighting.”
Michael lost his cool a little at this, “do you know what we experienced; do you? It was brutal at times, bloody, ships being torn apart and people dying all around us. Whenever I go to sleep it haunts my dreams, I get no rest, no solitude from it; ever. Nobody should have to experience what we experienced.”
Fontaine stared at Michael in shock, “forgive me, I meant no offence.”
“None taken,” Michael replied calming himself once again, “but these heroes, this larger than life captain you depict. We are not those people, we did what we had to do to survive, nothing more.”
“I understand.”
Eventually they came upon the wide hangar bay, it was home to a dozen short range shuttles in two rows of six, one side facing the other. Their elongated bullet shaped fuselages and downward curved cockpits, made the place look like the interior of some gigantic rifle magazine.
The ceiling of the hangar bay was high, a good fifty or sixty feet above them.
“Two shuttles are launching from here, and another two from the Arizona,” Fontaine informed him.
“Good, then let’s get moving shall we,” Michael did not want to waste any time in getting the survivors and Nikolai’s men out of that hellhole.
“Understood, lieutenant commander Maddox, and lieutenant Chung will be piloting the second shuttle, I will be overseeing things from up here.”
“Thank you commander,” the two officers saluted.
Michael silently nodded his understanding. Fontaine was in command after all, and while he had no doubt she would have loved to accompany him, her first duty was to her ship. If he was in her position he would have most likely done exactly the same thing, he would be piloting the first shuttle alone.
Commander Fontaine curtly turned on her heel, left the hangar bay, and the men to begin their flight.
Michael and the other crew members all pressed the door release at almost the exact same time, the small hatches at the rear of the craft both opened outwards in unison. They all climbed onboard the shuttles and the hatch doors slowly closed back down automatically, re-sealing themselves.
He began the start up sequence, it had been a while since he had taken a ride in one of these shuttles. As he worked, he could feel the old techniques coming back, the rust coming away. Controls flickered on and panels lit up across the pilot’s instrumentation, attitude sensors came online, short and long range communication systems came to life, and main power began to build up to full charge.
Michael pressed a few controls on the console in front of him, opening up a communications channel with the Arizona, “Arizona this is Michael Alexander in shuttle Eisenhower alpha-six, preparing to get underway.”
“Confirmed Arizona, shuttles are clear and have left hangar bay, awaiting rendezvous.”
Damn they’re quick, Michael thought, “understood Arizona, getting underway now.”
He keyed in the gravitic engine start up sequence, and powered up the main boosters. The engines themselves roared into life as the solid fuel contained within ignited, slowly filling the giant hangar bay with steam and exhaust gases, keeping the thrust to the boosters at a lowly ten percent, he instead used the gravitic engines to manoeuvre slowly within the hangar bay.
The small shuttle gently inched forward, slowly picking up speed as it began to taxi out into the wide launch bay, Michael saw his own shuttle slowly pass the other in his peripheral vision.
The hangar bay doors opened with a blast of escaping oxygen, and the rush of exhaust gases venting out into space.
“Well, here goes.” Michael said to himself as he increased thrust to the main boosters, the nozzles on the twin directed thrust booster engines opened fully as Michael eased the throttle to maximum. The roar of the engines echoed loudly throughout the entire hangar bay as the shuttle rapidly accelerated, shooting past the hangar bay doors and out into the blackness of deep space.
The stars shone brightly through the cockpit glass. He could just make out the swirling emerald green clouds of a distant nebula, and the bright glow of the second moon of Auriga III, as the light from the system’s sun
