- A Fat Bell End
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- Senior Member
1416 Hours (GMT) May 3rd, 2525
5,205 kilometers outside of Epsilon Eridani B's gravity well
"Sir! What the hell happened?!" Bellowed Cruz.
Through the ship's intercom, Cruz's voice came through thin, staticy.
Briefly, mendoza informed him of the situation. "Not sure when we'll be able to open the hatch, either. Athena was a little fuzzy on that point," he added, glowering at the small case that housed the AI. "So, for a while, I want you to go on radio silence. Conserve your power supply as much as you can."
Mendoza paused, watching Cruz's vitals scroll across the minature display. "You alright?"
"Hell no, sir", repeated Cruz sullenly.
"Nothing to worry about, soldier," assured Mendoza. "That power supply's probably got more juice than this whole damned boat."
Nothing to worry about, he repeated to himself, after he had clicked to comms unit off. He wished he believed it himself. Slowly, he turned to his crew.
Mendoza checked the ship's display. There goes our extraction.[]/i
"That's it then."
It was the first time any of Mendoza's troops had ever seen him beaten.
"Sir," came a voice from the piolt's seat. "We may not be humped just yet."
The pilot was a thickly set man with a week's worth of stubble lining his chin. He was a man of few words, but when he [i]did speak, he usually had something to say. Mendoza smiled thinly, unwilling to let himself feel anything close to hope.
"Let's hear it, Dooley."
"It's a long shot, sir, but at this point... Well, may be worth a try, at any rate."
Mendoza gestured for him to continue, so he went on, "We've been missing something that has been right under our noses this whole time", he said, indicating the Pelican's viewport.
Mendoza, and a few of the others clustered around the pilot's chair. Outside of the port, the massive curve of Epsilon B stretched glaringly below them. Stars, Sigma Station, everything else was eclipsed in it's brilliance.
"Can't see much of anything beyond that glare, sir," observed Miller.
"Ditto," replied Mendoza. He looked at the co pilot questioningly. She was laughing hysterically.
"Crazy S.O.B." She said, facing the pilot.
"Anybody mind telling me what the hell is going on?" snapped Mendoza peevishly.
"Well, sir..." Mendoza noticed that his normally stoic features were beginning to show traces of a smile. This plan must be damned crazy, he thought to himself.
"It's a big world down there. Why not use it to slow us down?"
Mendoza was right. "You mean fly into, what, atmo?"
"Not into atmo, sir" answered the pilot, grinning at Mendoza's use of pilot jargon. "Just graze the gravity well a little. We can coast in and out of it, use it to slow us down." He hesitated a fraction of a second. "Maybe skim her atmo a little." He smiled weakly. "No different than skiing."
Mendoza shook his head. "Sounds a hell of a lot different than skiing, if you ask me... You think we have a shot?"
The pilot simply shrugged. "You think we have a choice?"
Thirty minutes later they were barrling toward the gibbous, cloud-streaked world below them.
"Sturgis, how's she coming?"
"Just. About..." Sturgis tinkered with the small case a little more. "Got her!"
"Give her here, Sturg." He looked the case over, a scowl darkening his features. "Alright, show that pretty face of yours."
After a couple of heartbeats, an elfin, silver figure emerged from the case. Athena. She looked morose, to say the least.
If Mendoza took any notice of this fact, he gave no sign of it.
"Listen. You got us into a whole heap of trouble back there. But our pilot here came up with a plan. A plan that you missed," he added triumphantly.
He proceeded to brief the AI on Dooley's plan.
It could work, the AI concluded. Possibly. Too low, and you'll never get back out of the gravity well. Too high...
"We'll miss our mark. We know." He patted the small case. "That," he said, indicating the AI with an outstretched finger, "is why we need you."
It is a solid plan, Corporal, the AI replied simply.
"It is. You try anything, I'll send you starside quicker than you can count to ten." He looked at Athena, his eyes glittering madly. "You got that?"
The AI simply nodded, her eyes downcast. As Mendoza turned to the cockpit, he could have sworn he heard the AI sob.
"Entering atmo in five, sir!" shouted the pilot.
Mendoza looked doubtfully through the view port. And saw nothing. The view was a yellow-orange mess. Atmo. "Five minutes?" he shouted.
As the words left his lips, he was thrown violently into the port bulkhead. He scrambled for a seat, nursing his shoulder.
"Sorry 'bout that, Corporal. Didn't know you weren't strapped in", replied the co pilot brightly.
Mendoza cursed. "The two of you are lucky that I am".
The next three minutes seemed to have taken an eternity. All aboard held onto whatever they could with a white knuckled intensity as they plummeted through the worst turbulance any aboard had ever experienced. Dooley included. On top of that, they were now well within the gravity well, a crushing two and a half Gs, at the top of the cloud deck. Earthside, it would have been a lot to endure. After thirty six hours in micro gravity, it was devastating.
The view port turned from a pale yellow-orange to an angry red. Beyond the glowering haze, clouds whipped past with impossible speed. The interior of the Pelican became palpably hotter. Steel groaned as the heat of their descent took hold.
I suggest you pull up, urged Athena tightly.
"Too soon", muttered Dooley to himself as much as the AI.
There was a resounding pop from somewhere just below their feet. They could hear the hull twisting, creaking in it's dying throes.
With a pained effort, Mendoza turned his head away from the view port.
Pull up! shouted Athena.
The groaning of steel was lost behind the deafining howl of the engines, stressed beyond design capacity ten-fold. They could feel the iron grip of Epsilon B's merciless hand crushing them all.
"Pull. Up!" ordered Mendoza.
"...Sir." Croaked Dooley weakly.
At once the craft lurched upward, crushing Mendoza and the squad further into their seats. It was agonizing. With every creak of the hull, they could feel it in their bones. Lungs squeezed shut under the weight. Breathing became a cruel joke. The hull began to vibrate wildly. Even Dooley knew that it could break up at any minute. Any second now...
And then it all vanished. In an instant they were weightless again, the gaudy orange cloud deck replaced with the blackness of infinity once again.
"Everybody alright?" Mendoza asked. There was a stench of urine in the cramped cargo bay. Mendoza surveyed his soldiers. Shaky nods of ascent answered his question. Nobody, save Mendoza himself trusted their voice to speak.
"Alright. Dooley, good flying. How much did we lose?"
Dooley pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Gauges read just over five hundred kliks, sir." He grinned massively. "We lost one hundred fifty kliks."
Mendoza didn't feel quite as elated. Four more trips into that soup, he thought bitterly.
"Alright. We let the bird cool down, and we do it again" Mendoza said. He tried to say the words encouragingly, but the scowl on his face belied his words.
"Hang on a sec, sir", interrupted Dooley. "Got something heading this way. Looks like a beacon. Or maybe..." His eyes widened briefly. "It's a data capsule, sir. And it's got ONI written all over it."
Just then, a tiny starburst erupted from the distant point of light that was Sigma Station.
"Sir," croaked Miller. "Was that the station? Did it just...?"
Mendoza placed a hand on Miller's shoulder. "Sigma Station's a long way off, son. Odds are that wasn't it."
A scowl darkened his features. "But wouldn't it be just our luck if it was..."