Thompson neared the Shuttle bay with an air of caution, his pistol drawn and trained at the area in front of him. Eve had stated that Mitchell was in there, but so far Thompson had found no signs to attest to that fact. The bay door opened automatically with an almost silent whoosh as the lieutenant triggered the mechanism. Whirling first to the left and then to the right, he ensured that no one was lying in wait for him on either side of the doorway. No one was, but that didn't calm the erratic beating of his heart.
The bay was occupied by the hulking forms of two standard military shuttles. Designed to hold a maximum of 15 fully equipped soldiers and a small armoury, the crafts were quite large, especially when compared to a regular passenger shuttle. Their size was not what was presently worrying Jeffrey Thompson however, he was more concerned with what, or rather who, could be inside one of these heavily armoured beasts of burden.
Approaching the nearest craft, Thompson carefully positioned himself flat against the cool metal skin. Listening for a minute or two for any kind of sound inside the shuttle, he assured himself that it was empty. Feeling the need to double check, Thompson quietly unlatched the shuttle outer door and swung it wide open. He peered into the dark interior before climbing up into the craft. A perfunctionary search, clarified that the shuttle was empty.
Repeating his previous steps, Thompson stood silently outside the second craft, that sat deeper in the bay. Once again he heard nothing, he hesitantly opened the outer door, and climbed inside. The first thing he noticed, was that it wasn't quite so dark inside this second shuttle. Glancing around he tried to determine where the lights were eminating from, walking from the main compartment into the cockpit, the lights brightened considerably. A yellow glow illuminated the main control panel from above. Leaning over the many buttons, screens and sensors, Thompson noted with a growing sense of panic the activated Navi- Panel. The screen still contained the last command it had received.
'G System. Sector 889 - Course Plotted. E.T.A. = 69 Hrs 39 mins'
"Shit. He *is* going back to G889." Thompson exclaimed outloud.
"Of course I am." A voice stated from the rear of the shuttle. "You didn't think I'd just give up did you, after such a minor setback. I, unlike other people around here, follow directives."
"Mitchell." Thompson acknowledged, turning to face the younger man. Mitchell looked like hell, his uniform uncharacteristically dishevelled, a streak of blood had travelled from his temple to his shirt collar. "This is pure foolishness, why are you going back?
"Our orders still apply, Thompson. I'm going back for the Adair boy, unfortunately I won't have Heller, but hopefully the Board of Regents will overlook that when I bring them the child." Mitchell stepped around Thompson as he made his way to the control panel.
"But why?"
"Well for one thing it will show Adair and her merry band that defying the council has a price."
"They weren't defying anyone David, can't you see that." Thompson implored. "Adair was just trying to save her son."
Mitchell laughed derisively, as he made a show of prepping the shuttle. "You really are a sucker for a cause, aren't ya Thompson." The sergeant finally turned to face his superior, his voice dripping with scorn. "The council was quite prepared to help those Syndrome kids, all she had to do was wait. But nooooo, she had to take off on her own, using daddy's money to buy a whole wagonload of pioneers."
As the younger man pontificated, visions of his own little boy flashed into Thompson's mind. Did Mitchell know about Thompson's own syndrome afflicted son, or did he simply not care? "By god Mitchell, you have your head shoved so far up the Council's ass you can't even see them for what they really are. They were stalling, don't you realise that. They had no intention of letting Adair leave, they didn't want some renegade running around setting up colonies, what would that have done to their credibility? What would have happened, if some jumped up architect suddenly comes up with a cure for a fatal disease, that the council had been denying ever existing since the beginning." Thompson could feel his anger excalating, he wasn't exactly sure if he was saying all this for Adair's benefit or his own. He'd known the truth all along, he just didn't want to believe it. "No, they couldn't let that happen, they would rather let innocent children die, than admit they were powerless against this virus, at least then they were still in control."
For once, Mitchell was without a cocky comeback. He just stood there, an absurd look plastered to his face, he appeared flustered, unsure of how to respond. "Yeah well." He answered after a few more moments pause. "If that's what you want to believe, go with it. Just get outta my way, I've got things to do before I leave." He began to go through the motions of pre-launch, ignoring Thompson as best he could, until the older man grabbed his arm.
"What?!" Thompson demanded. "You're still going to go down there."
"Why, did you think that little pep talk was gonna change my mind or something? Why should I believe anything you say anymore, you were helping them, you watched while they clubbed me half to death." With a quick jerk of his arm, Mitchell released himself from Thompson's grasp and backed himself into the corner of the room. "Oh, and don't think I'm not going to report your treason to our superiors when I get back to the stations, because that will be one of my priorities. You never know though Jeff, they might send you to G889 afterall - as a penal colonist." Mitchell finished with a loud bark of laughter, obviously quite amused by his own joke.
"I can't let you do that David, I'm sorry." Thompson stated, as he drew his gun on the younger man.
Mitchell however, had been waiting for this moment all along. Reaching behind his back he grasped the handle of a de-activated mag-pro with both hands - the laser gun, transformed into a makeshift club. Taking one huge step forward and wielding the heavy weapon, Mitchell swung it with all his strength, connecting with the side of Thompson's head.
The force of the blow propelled Thompson backwards, and he fell heavily on the metal floor of the shuttle. Before he had even recovered sufficiently enough to defend himself, Thompson saw Mitchell advancing.
The younger man's expression was intense, using both hands he lifted the mag-pro above his head. "You had your chance Thompson, you could have joined me. But now I'm afraid you're time is up." The Sergeant hissed through clenched teeth.
To Thompson, the mag-pro - one end covered in a thin layer of blood - seemed to discend in slow motion. Mitchell's face was obscured from view, as the lethal weapon neared Thompson's head. At the last minute, he was able to lift his arm to ward off the blow, and although this did shield his head, he groaned with pain as the bones in his wrist were smashed. With gruesome determination, Mitchell set about his superior officer. Thompson remained silent throughout his ordeal, not wishing to give Mitchell the added satisfaction, as the blows rained down on him.
Mitchell stopped after a time and regarded the bloodied figure at his feet, Thompson's eyes were closed,and he wasn't making a sound. The Leuitenant was either dead, or very near it, Mitchell surmised. Content with his handiwork, the Sergeant reached down and grasped a hold of Thompson's shirt collar. A snail trail of blood followed, as Mitchell dragged the other man to the shuttle's outer hatch.
"It was a pleasure working with you, sir." Mitchell sneered as he pushed Thompson out of the shuttle and closed the door behind him.
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A nausea inducing pounding filled his head, every ounce of his being hurt. Thompson felt like he'd just been run over by a transrover. He'd been awakened from his peaceful unconsciousness, by an ear-splitting racket. Pushing his blood encrusted eyelids open as much as they would go, Thompson surveyed his surrounding. He was laying, face down, on the cold floor of the shuttle bay. *How the hell did I get out here?* he thought to himself, the last thing he remembered was finding Mitchell in Shuttle #2. Then it all came back to him, with another head-jolting wave of pain. Mitchell was planning on returning to G889 to complete his mission. *Over my dead body.* Thompson thought, which evidently was what the issue had come down to. After overcoming his last obstacle, Mitchell was free to fulfill his objective.
Or was he?
The shuttle that Mitchell was piloting, had not yet left the bay. In fact the high decibal level which had awakened Thompson, had been the craft's thrusters firing.
Thompson hadn't got much time. From the rhythmic hum of the shuttle's engine, the Leuitenant could tell that the craft's departure was imminent. Thompson's only hope to detain Mitchell was to close the bay's Emergency Outer Hatch. The purpose of the EOH was to keep intruders out, but in theory it could also keep certain elements in. As Thompson was certain he wouldn't be able to stand, he began to pull himself across the cool metal floor, the bay floor was made up a square grills, with conduits running beneath. By reaching full stretch and pushing his fingers into the grating, Thompson was able to pull himself over to the other side of the huge room, to the bay control centre. As he reached the opposite wall, he noticed the shuttle inching forward towards the launch area.
Using the chair postioned behind the bay console, Thompson was able to lever himself into an upright stance. His body shook tremendously with each little movement, but Thompson was determined to end this. He reached across the panel of buttons and switches, and slapped one bloody hand down over a large cross-section. The display blinked to life, and one button which was covered with a heavy transparent shield, illuminated. With shaking hands, he lifted the plexi-shield, and jabbed the red button beneath.
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Mitchell sighed with satisfaction, as the shuttle neared the bay door. He passed through the atmospheric barrier, the shuttle now powering itself through zero gravity, mere inches from the welcoming blackness of empty space. "Home free." The sergeant breathed, although this was perhaps just a little premature, for as the words left his lips, the klaxons began.
"Emergency Outer Hatch has been activated. Please stay clear of the Bay Doors..." The artificial voice calmly stated.
"What the...?!" Mitchell watched with a mixture of confusion and dread, as he saw the heavy security hatch start to close. Obviously Thompson's condition hadn't been as fatal as Mitchell had thought, he had somehow triggered this last hurdle. The younger officer wasn't ready to give up yet though, he felt sure that he could make it through the quickly lessening passage.
Increasing the shuttle's power, Mitchell pushed forward. He whooped triumphantly as the shuttle's nose passed through the outer bay and into the open, and apprehensively held his breath as the wider sections of the shuttle tempted fate. It seemed that lady luck wasn't on his side this time. The craft bucked under the immense pressure of the EOH, but the powerful engines managed to push through, a high pitched screech of metal on metal filling the air. Unfortunately, the shuttle's victory wasn't without penalty. Mitchell swore loudly as alarm after alarm sounded inside the small cockpit.
"Warning Outer Hull Breach."
"Warning Proximity Sensors Inoperative."
"Warning..." The list of damages seemed endless, there was even a small electrical fire on board. The most worrying announcement however, had to be - "Warning Oxygen depletion. Shuttle De-compression." Checking the Oxygen level readout, Mitchell was horrified to see that it had already dropped to less than 60% and was falling fast, very worrying seeing as though he had neglected to pack extra tanks in his haste to leave the satelite. He typed a query into the Shuttle's main computer.
'How long will current supply of oxygen last?'
The reply was almost instantaneous - 'At current rate of depletion, Oxygen supply will last approximately 6 hours.'
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Swaying only slightly on his feet, Thompson surveyed the contents liberally scattered on the medi-bay counter. There were an array of state of the art medical devices, unfortunately the Leuitenent didn't know how to use any of them, he would have to make do with good old fashioned first aid, and a bit of blind luck. *First things first,* he thought as his shaking hands wrapped around a derm-app. The terrible streaks of agony that had filled his body had abated a little, but he was still in immense pain. He pressed the applicator against his neck and pushed the trigger, with a faint tickling sensation, Thompson felt the pain killer enter his blood-stream.
It had been over an hour before Thompson had even felt up to moving from the Shuttle Bay, he had been losing a fair amount of blood, and realised that he had to do something before he became to weak to move at all. Taking over 30 mins to stagger to the med-bay, the military man had set about cataloging his injuries. The Dia-Glove had indicated; two broken ribs, multiple contusions to the head and torso, and a fractured wrist. Not as bad as Thompson had feared, but pretty banged up nonetheless.
After a few minutes the derm-app started to work its magic. The stinging, burning and throbbing that seemed to eminate from every pore of his body, was reduced to a dull ache. His damaged wrist lay uselessly at his side, all he could do until the bone healer vaccine kicked in, was to strap it up. Using various ointments and sterile-pads that he found on Ramirez's desk, Thompson was able to clean up most of the flesh wounds that covered his heads and arms. The broken ribs that he had suffered wouldn't be quite so straightforward, however. With only a basic knowledge of first-aid, and field emergency exercises, Thompson had no idea how to treat these injuries. At least for now, with the help of the derm-apps, he was comfortable - well, semi-comfortable - and therefore not in any enormous need of treatment.
Thompson spent an hour attending to his many injuries, and then feeling somewhat better for it, made his way to the communications centre. He tentatively settled himself into the chair before the main console, very wary of his aching limbs.
He switched on the majority of monitors embedded in the metal wall before him, and then activated the many scanners,sensors and radars that the ship housed. It didn't take him very long to pinpoint the location of the shuttle Mitchell was piloting. Switching on the transmitters, he started hailing the renegade shuttle in as many frequencies as he could think off. He had to get Mitchell to turn back.
Thompson had spent over half an hour fruitlessly sending message after message to Mitchell, he was just about to give up the ghost, when a voice responded.
"Jesus, you just don't know when to give up do you Thompson." Mitchell didn't sound angry as Thompson had imagined he would be. The younger man just sounded weary, his words came out slow and soft.
"Mitchell, listen to me." Thompson enunciated every word carefully, as if speaking to a small child. "If you don't turn the shuttle around right now and return to the Excalibar, I'm going to have to disable it."
"I'm afraid you're a bit late for that, Jeff old pal."
"Why, what are you talking about?"
"The shuttle's damaged, I'm losing oxygen." The Sergeant began to cough. Thompson heard him hungrily gulping in air between each bout of coughing. After it had abated somewhat, Mitchell wheezed. "Its falling fast, there's less than two hours worth left."
"Then you have to come back, you've no other choice."
"Didn't you just hear what I said, you dumb shit? I've only got two hours worth of oxygen left, I'm over *four* hours away from you." He growled and then started coughing all over again.
Thompson waited for him to finish before asking. "Haven't you got a back-up supply on board?"
"Oh yeah, a back-up supply - silly me!" Mitchell replied sarcastically. "If had a shanking back-up supply, do you think I'd be wasting time talking to you?"
"Okay, okay. Just calm down or you'll only waste what little you have." Even though the man had tried to kill him, Thompson had no wish for Mitchell to die. The leuitenant desperately tried to think of a way to help his sergeant.
Thompson came up blank each time though, there was no way to save Mitchell. Both men knew that.
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Every bone in his body cracked in protest as Josh stretched his tired limbs. Raking a hand through his unkempt hair was all the young man could manage in terms of freshening up, a huge yawn escaped him as he made his way to the cockpit to relieve Solace.
"Hey man, you should have woken me up earlier. I only meant to take a little nap, I've been asleep for almost six hours." Heller complained halfheartedly, truth be told he could have happily dozed for another twelve.
"Yeah well, you need the rest as much as I do, and there wasn't really much happening up here anyway." Alonzo replied.
Regarding the bleary eyed pilot, Josh doubted that he needed anything as much as his friend did. Solace appeared to be in worse shape every time he looked at him.
Pale as a sheet with red rimmed eyes, Alonzo turned away from Heller's critical gaze. Checking on Julia for the forth time that hour, he was once again dissapointed to see no change at all in her condition.
Josh's eyes followed the pilot, he noticed his unsteady gait, the slowness of his actions, but again he said nothing. If Alonzo was as sick as Josh feared, confronting him about it would only make matters worse. He'd just have to stick it out, and hope Solace will admit he needs medical attention. "Did you hear from Thompson while I was sleeping?"
Alonzo shook his head as he gently tucked another blanket around Julia's still form. He leaned over and tenderly kissed her on the forehead before turning back to Josh. "No not a word, I hope nothing happened up there. He should never have gone after Reilly."
"Do you think we should try to contact him?"
"We could try, but it would mean drawing attention to ourselves." Alonzo stated dully.
"Yeah, but what if he needs our help. We should make sure he's okay."
Alonzo winced slightly as he sat down at the comms panel. Activating the transmitter, he called Thompson. The Leuitenant responded almost immediately, evidentally he had been waiting for them to contact him. "Did you find him?" Solace asked without preamble.
"Who, Reilly?" Thompson asked, causing the other two men to wonder who else he had been chasing. "No, he's gone. He left on an EEV, Eve has no idea where he's heading."
"G889 would be my first guess." Josh muttered.
"Yeah, Mine too." Thompson replied. "But we can't be sure, I think you should warn your people on the surface a.s.a.p. just in case."
"We will. What about Mitchell, he still unconscious in the Med-Bay?" Alonzo asked next, as he fiddled with the controls on the comms panel. With a flash of colour a very hazy picture of Thompson sitting in the Satelite's comms room, appeared on the monitor before 'Lonz and Josh. Despite the poor quality of the visual transmission, both men were shocked by Thompson's appearance. "Jesus, what happened to you?"
"Er, Mitchell's dead." Thompson replied, self-consciously pulling at the bandage that was tightly wound around his right wrist. "He took one of the shuttles, he was going to go back to G889. He shuttle was damaged though as he tried to leave Excaliber, it leaked all of his oxygen supply, and well - he didn't make it."
"Aw shucks, what a shame." Josh responded sardonically. "Did he do that to your face?"
"Yeah, I'm a bit busted up, but I'll live." He answered flatly. For some reason the younger man's flip remark angered Thompson. Afterall no matter what the outcome, Mitchell had been a colleague. In a way the Leuitenant felt somewhat responsible for what had happened. He should have handled the situation better than he had, he should have confronted Reilly and Mitchell about their plans. He should...He should...*Shit. I should have what? There was nothing I could have done, Mitchell was a loose cannon and I knew it.* Thompson thought to himself, self-blame wasn't going to accomplish anything, they all had to move forward now. "How are you guys doing, any change with Alex or Dr Heller?"
Solace shook his head sadly. "No, not yet. What are you gonna do now, are you taking the last shuttle and meeting us at New Pacifica?"
"No, I'm going to stay here. If I take the last shuttle my men will be stranded here, I'm going to take them back to the stations."
"But what are you going to tell them, about us I mean?" Josh asked.
"Nothing, they don't know you came to the satelite, they were all unconscious remember. I'm going to tell them Reilly and Mitchell went berserk, drugged them all, kidnapped Alex and Dr Heller and stole a shuttle, which unfortunately exploded due to a malfunction. That they went against their orders and subsequently eradicated the mission."
"Will they believe you?"
"What choice do they have, there's no-one left to tell them otherwise."
"I suppose. But are you sure, you know you're more than welcome to join us." Alonzo told him.
Thompson smiled. "I'm sure. Don't worry, you won't hear from the council again, I'll make sure of that. I wish you the best of luck, Dr Heller will be in my prayers Mr Solace." Then to the bemusement of both men, Thompson saluted.
Alonzo smiled sadly in return. "Thank you for eveything Leuitenant Thompson, I mean that."
"No thank you." Thompson whispered, as he leaned forward to terminate their connection.
That was the last they ever heard from Leuitenant Jeffrey Thompson and the 54th Reconn.
...Continued in 'Contact - Epilogue'
Author's Chapter Notes:
I think this section should be rated PG-13, its a tad violent