[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]Siegreiche was garrisoned by a 500-man company. As the alarm went off their sleepy little barracks magically transformed into a hornet's nest of activity. Hessian troopers sprang into action, running pell-mell in all directions, but none without purpose. They all seemed to know exactly what to do...
Back in the ELC the raider hacker had located the trooper barracks, isolated it and began the lockdown procedure. He couldn't seem to wipe the wicked little grin from his face...
[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]The thick metal alloy shield fell toward the deck as its clone rose up to meet it. They met with finality and a loud metallic clank, punctuated by the scream of the Hessian trooper sandwiched there. Flesh was no match, however, and the poor fellow's body was shorn neatly in two, half falling on either side of the now airtight entrance to the barracks. Twenty some odd troopers had made it out before lock-down. The rest were mercilessly vented out into the vast emptiness of Omega-15.
The troopers still alive on the right side of the shield took a moment to stare at half the body of one of their comrades, then up at the bloody 'guillotine' that had ended his life. Their faces were flush with a churning cornucopia of fear and anger, and the adrenaline rush those two emotions bring. All this took but a second and they were lunging down the corridor toward the source of the alarm.
Rage's crew was busy, all. The demo men were setting the charges; the rest were establishing a defensible perimeter. The two missing men were unheard from. (The plan had called for a communications black-out to avoid alerting the enemy.) Consequently, Rage had no way of knowing if the plan had worked. If it had there would be little to defend against. The rest of the complement of the station were technicians, not fighters. Their intruder-stations would no-doubt be 'out-of-the-way'. Soldiers neither liked nor needed scientists and technicians cluttering up the decks when there was fighting to be done.
Back in the ELC, mission accomplished, the raider hacker signaled the retreat from the compartment. At the door he set a small EMP charge to jamb it shut after they left, not wanting to allow the enemy the same option that he had just exercised. The marine pulled the hatch door shut and dogged it down. The explosion on the other side of the door rattled it noisily as the charge detonated. He turned around in the corridor and heard the sound of a plasma rifle. His companion was trading fire with Hessians at the base of the ladder leading up to the ELC.
"Deck!" He yelled, simultaneously tossing a grenade over the guy's shoulder down the ladder well. It went off with a loud explosion followed by a funnel of smoke shooting up from the well. The other marine picked himself up from the deck, grimaced at his buddy, and the two proceeded rapidly down the ladder in single file...
[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]The charges were set. Rage signaled the assault element to move out, they would rendezvous with the other marines in the cargo bay. He had set the detonator for twenty minutes. That was cutting it close but it was necessary. Any longer and the other side might find it and defuse it.
The raiders moved out in their typical 'leapfrog' formation they called the avalanche, advancing down the corridor in stages. Rage for once wished they would hurry it up! In his head was a voice screaming "run for it!" When they got down the corridor about twenty yards and took a right around a corner, he found out why they were trained to be so cautious. They ran headlong into a large party of Hessian troopers.
The two lead men of the raider unit hit the deck, professional training kicking in. The two behind them hugging either bulkhead immediately 'took a knee', allowing the two behind them to fire over their heads. The sheer wall of plasma that their first rifle volley sent down the corridor decimated the enemy. Fully half of them went down, dead or incapacitated, either way battle ineffective. Their shocked comrades retreated hastily back around the far corner. But the marines were not waiting for them to decide what to do next. They were trained to grab the initiative and keep it! So, they ran down the corridor and launched a savage assault around the corner, firing and screaming as they went, chasing the survivors away like so many rats running from a starving cat!
Satisfied, the raiders regrouped and headed out in formation toward the cargo bay...
"Well it's about damn time," Sledge muttered as he pulled his legs down off the command console, laid his laser guitar aside and activated the comm-link. "For the full six," he said, using the previously determined reply to Rage's code phrase. He started the ship engine's light-off sequence. These birds didn't take long to launch but you still had to jump through the proper hoops, in the right order. The nature of their mission meant they would be sore pressed for time. When the last marine's boot touched the deck of the ship, he wanted to be able to lock up and head out...
[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]Rage's men exited the lifts into the cargo bay. He was right behind them. They had about eleven minutes to launch and put 12k between them and the station. The lead element reached the ship and ran up the open cargo bay ramp, one taking position on either side of the entrance. The other men followed quickly. The sound of the ship's engine told Rage that the mission pilot was doing his job. He looked around, wondering. He couldn't wait. If the other two men didn't beat feet into to the ship within a scant few minutes they would be left. Just about then he heard the lifts activated, being recalled back to another level. He reached the cargo bay of the merchant and stepped lightly onto the non-skid surface of its deck, peering expectantly back toward the lift.
Finally the lift stopped, the level beacon over the entrance lit up and the doors slid aside. Inside were five men going at it tooth and nail. Rage forgot he was in command of men and took off at a sprint for the lift. Dropping his blaster en route he drew his combat knife and dove into the lift. The two Hessians that clung to the hacker raider were his target. One caught the butt of his baton across the temple, whereupon he folded up and went limp. The other received a wicked slice between the third and fourth ribs on his right side. He yelled in surprise and released his grip on the raider, who promptly drove his knife into the guy's throat.
The participants of the other melee continued with their deadly contest oblivious to all else. The sergeant brained that Hessian with a baton stroke across the crown of his head.
“Well, you fellows sure took your sweet time,” he complained with a wry grin. “Now get your assess loaded up...”
[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]The merchant ship launched without mishap and Sledge pushed the throttle controls to their limit. The quad engines roared into action and the big ship, devoid of cargo, lurched into the ether. Dispensing with the niceties of a polite exit with gentle retros until she was clear of the loading docks, her exhaust turned them into a raging inferno.
Be that as it may, and inertia being what it is, the ship's initial velocity seemed excruciatingly slow... too damn slow! Rage had a horrible thought cross his mind: 'We're not going to make it!' He looked at the range ticker, a digital readout across the base of the pilot's HUD. It seemed like it was moving at a fricking snail's pace. Distance to the station 100m... 101... 102... He thought about all the things he had NOT accomplished in his short little life... up to 200 now and it was starting to move noticeably faster... He glanced at Sledge's worried face, transfixed to the HUD, and looked hurriedly back at it himself. He felt like an animal caught in the headlights of an on-coming rover. He couldn't move to save himself, just watch and wait for the inevitable...
It slid from meters to kilometers seamlessly... and really started to pick up speed... before long it was moving so fast he couldn't isolate a single number any longer on the last three digits... it was just a rapid stream. He checked his chronometer. Four minutes and the detonator would light off and then they would be torn apart. 'No, no, no...' he insisted to Mr. Pessimism that rained his brain with constant negativity. 'They were damn well going to make it!' Now it was ticking off the thousands in rapid succession... up past 8k now and climbing... but down to mere seconds in time... too few and too far... How did that ole saying go? 'Got a long way to go, and a short time to get there?' He laughed in spite of himself, a nervous little laugh that nobody seemed to notice but him.
10k now, heading rapidly toward eleven... And a loud explosion lit off at their stern! It was a deep rumbling concussion, not altogether dissimilar from the rolling thunder back on Houston. Well, that was it... they had lost the race... Rage braced himself for the inevitable...
[font=Lucida Sans Unicode] [Author's note: Some of you may be wondering about my speed estimations in the previous section. Well according to data on the Space Shuttle her maximum speed (which occurs just before entering orbit) is 8000 m/s, which is of course 800 km/s. Now the merchant ship that Rage and crew used to attempt to outrun certain death had four minutes to get 12000 KM away from the station. Well, doing the math, 800/12000 = 15 seconds. BUT... and it is a large BUT... how long does it take to get up to speed? Ah, there is the problem... Without boring you too much with complicated physics calculations, suffice it to say that I gaged my estimations to be feasible, given all variables... Anyway, I figured my accounting for the speed might be of interest to someone...]
[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]His consciousness swam toward the surface. There was a low murmur there, beckoning him like a siren-call. (His mind conjured up a gorgeous scantily clad lady-creature, entreating him to join her there. That sounded like a lovely notion...) He couldn't trust it though for his head was broke. While it could conjure up lady phantasms just fine, it couldn't retrieve the basics. Oh, like for example... who the hell was he? ...or where the hell was he, for that matter? ...that kind of trivial crap.
Now the voices were more distinct, more compelling but unfortunately not female. He shrugged mentally and swam back up toward them anyway.
“Okay, let's get him out of there,” he heard and wondered if he was the him they were referring to... He decided it was time to make a concerted effort to join the world of the living. He opened his eyes.
“Well, well... we have life, cap'n.” The voice had a definite accent but he couldn't quite place it.
“Glory, glory... so we do.” The other voice announced, “welcome back, son.” This guy's voice didn't ring any bells either but if his enunciation was an indicator he was a highly educated fellow. Slowly the bright-white spots dimmed across his eyeballs and they managed to focus. He found himself looking up at a rather tall, lanky fellow with mussed brown hair and a dirty jumpsuit. His 'cap'n' was a medium-built man of some fifty years with graying temples and warm eyes. They both gazed at him steadily, grins frozen on their expectant faces.
“Sorry... but I... didn't prepare a speech,” was all he could come up with. But it was a hit, as both the men broke into genuine impromptu laughter...