EVAC: IGNITION

  EVAC

  IGNITION

  A J Britnell

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  First published 2017 by Iconic Lines Limited

  Copyright © Andrea J Britnell 2017

  Artwork Copyright © Simon Britnell 2017

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and companies are a product of the author’s imagination. Some locations have been referred to for atmospheric reasons. Characters resembling actual people, living or dead or companies are completely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-9997785-0-7 (e-book edition)

  First Edition

  For Simon, for believing I could

  and for Mum, who never saw the proof.

  Chapter One

  “We now have breaking news; the recently opened Space Station Europa has hit yet more problems – this time with the gravity simulator after a transport shuttle collided with the station. Critics say this is a result of extensive cost cutting.” The Anchorwoman, Sam Weismann looked sternly into the camera, “The Station opened in the Fall of 2064 after a controversial takeover by Explore Commercial, who pushed for an earlier unveiling; some say at the expense of safety.” She took a deep breath for added tension, “More than one hundred staff, families and a number of high ranking V.I.P guests are confined to the upper deck while essential work is carried out.”

  A monitor behind the reporter crackled to life, revealing a floating figure in S.S.E uniform. “Mr. Sinclair, thank you for joining us”. The image made Sam Weismann chuckle to herself; the senior engineer, who was twisting gracefully away from view, adjusted his mic. His body filled the whole screen and he waved his arms furiously as he tried to orient himself towards the camera.

  “Thank you, Sam, as you can see the situation is serious.” Papers and tools danced around the fraught man’s head.

  Sam half turned to the screen and probed, “Can I just take you back, Mr. Sinclair - the station has only been open to the public for six months and it seems to have been besieged with mistakes and misfortune. Where do you think, the blame lies?”

  Sinclair shook his head in disbelief, “I don’t think this is the right time to point fingers; we need help up here most importantly and without the right machinery, this could take us weeks to fix.”

  The reporter gave up on her corporate character assassination and went for the personal touch. “Don’t you have procedures in place for such malfunctions?”

  Now bobbing unflatteringly close to the camera; beads of sweat pooling on his ruddy cheeks, the technician explained, “Most of the engineering crew have been called to the Mars Orbiter; they won’t be able to get to us for months. All I’ve got is a skeleton crew- more suited to unblocking toilets than space walks!”

  Grinning inappropriately, the reporter continued, “But isn’t the station full of scientists?”

  “Just a bunch of biologists and physicists,” the man replied, “We need skilled aeronautical engineers, not to mention some serious kit. It’s not like we can call Globewide Assistance!”

  Thousands of miles away, returning from Mars, the transporter ship Caspian 3 made a detour to salvage the Alexandra, a derelict freighter that had lain silent for five years.

  The Alexandra had become another piece of space rubbish. A trail of failed missions littered their well-travelled paths as mankind ventured further into the solar system, the litter; unintentional breadcrumbs home.

  Though considered a super-ship, The Caspian 3 dwarfed in comparison to the decommissioned Alexandra and it matched the wreck’s drift in space while its Captain appraised its worth.

  An unlucky meteor strike had torn through the craft with little warning leaving a thirty-meter-wide hole in its hull, gaping in the stifling blackness. Most of its crew, miners headed for the Martian moons had survived the disaster and escaped in their lifeboats to the nearest outpost but the Alexandra was abandoned since it had drifted off the trade route.

  The ship’s spine contorted with the energy of the impact, spewing wiring entrails around its wound. It doubled backed on itself, almost splitting in two, its contents spilt. Though grotesquely damaged, a shining halo of tiny debris enveloped the Alexandra giving it an ethereal quality.

  “Hey, Stefan, some guy called Healey's on the line”

  “Healey? What the hell does he want?” The astronaut swore as the tool he was using slipped from his fingers and began a perpetual bungee on its short tether. “Tell him he'll have to wait since I’ve got a laser between my legs at the moment." He exhaled deeply and reached out. As the object returned to crouch level for the third time, Stefan managed to predict the rebound and snatched it from the vacuum.

  The voice on the radio, oblivious to its Captain’s predicament, rambled on, “Don't know who he is but he's got a job for us – something about the orbiter. Sounds pretty tasty, just a hop, skip and a jump from home. Do you remember home?”

  “It’s that green and blue planet, right, John?” He holstered the cutter and instinctively tried to wipe his brow, even though he was wearing a triple skin, space helmet. The suit was heavy. If they could just get this ship gutted, he thought, they’d be able to finally purchase some up to date equipment.

  Stefan abandoned the task and radioed his colleague still working within the stricken ship. “Have you been listening Haruka? I’m going back to the Caspian to video-comm.”

  “Copy that – make sure you come back before I’ve done all the hard work!”

  A fifteen-metre concertinaed tube connected the two ships. The Bridging Umbilical was not pressurised and Stefan struggled to heave his body through the narrow opening. A cable ran the length of the umbilical, primarily used as a winch for moving equipment. Stefan clipped his suit harness on to the line and radioed for a tow.

  With a hiss, the airlock opened and the huge Norwegian emerged from his helmet, sweaty and unshaven. Three of his crew greeted him at the airlock and began to un-peel him from his spacesuit with extreme reverence. Chief Engineer, John Boyd, pulled the gloves from his captain’s hands.

  “Hey, take extra care with the cleaning, I think these seams are wearing,”

  John brought the garment close to his face for closer inspection. “I’ll get my needle and thread,” he grinned.

  “If only it was that easy!” Stefan no longer hid his frustrations from the crew, they were one big disgruntled family. Claus Hartman wiped the condensation from the inside of Stefan’s helmet and inspected it for damage. “Is this being cleansed or are you going back out soon?”

  Stefan patted the German’s shoulder, “I’d like to call it a day but Haruka’s determined to get that bay cleared….”

  “Hey, I’ll go back, you take a break,” Claus insisted, sensing his Captain’s fatigue. Stefan tilted his head, seriously considering the generous offer but

  sharp shrills filled the ship, jolting his weary body back into action. The amber alarm lights cast a rosy glow
throughout the cargo bay, dazzling the captain as he flew towards the intercom. “Okay, you’ve got my attention!”

  “There’s a fire on the freighter,” a voice replied.

  “Just let it burn, there can’t be more than a thimble full of oxygen in that ship.”

  The crew listened in silence to the rustling white noise, waiting for acknowledgment.

  The voice returned, “We can’t - Haruka’s cut off!”

  Stefan’s face crumpled and he forced his shoulders back into the suit. “Better get your own on guys - and Marcus, get the Bug ready.”

  Immediately the crew scrambled to their stations, propelling themselves from the handrails in a spiralling, well-rehearsed, dance.

  John and Claus tumbled over to the waiting suits, hanging in compartments outside the airlock. They took turns tightening each other’s straps with fumbling fingers. “Come on Claus, that’ll do.”

  “It’s nearly there, pal.”

  Stefan passed around mini ventilation masks containing pure oxygen; they needed to rid their lungs of nitrogen before entering Space to avoid the bends. Aware of the clock ticking the men frantically hooked the elastic over their ears and drew deep breaths, continuing to dress hurriedly in the confined space.

  Marcus floated upside down above them, his hands skimming the multi-positional keypad as he typed in the start- up sequence for the small maintenance craft in the hangar beyond. “Hangar airlock’s pressurized.”

  Stefan nodded and gave the thumbs up.

  The freighter ship, Alexandra was mainly of interest to the crew of the Caspian because of the fuel cells it carried; its cargo was destined for the Mars Colonies but despite the accident that tore the ship apart, the cells remained, hopefully undamaged.

  Haruka O’Brian was strictly speaking, a pilot but in the salvage business, one had to be a ‘Jack of all trades’. She found herself trapped, two compartments in from the exit hatch with a raging fire in the room between. “Come in Stef.”

  “Copy Haruka, we’re coming for you.”

  “Hey, I don’t want to put pressure on you but the fires in the store room; where we left the fuel cells.”

  “Oh, bloody hell.”

  “Yeah, I know. Do you want me to go through and try to put it out?”

  “How big is it?”

  Haruka’s breath came in short bursts, “Oh, probably too big, its crawling uncontrollably now.”

  “Just wait for us; if you open your door it’ll pull it through the ship.”

  “Copy that.”

  Haruka could only watch the flames bellow. The storage room was basically a hangar, big enough for a small craft but almost empty apart from a few crates strapped to the sides and assorted equipment and junk in strong nets. The team had spent the last few days collecting valuables and this chamber had become the holding room. Their latest haul contained the most precious; the fuel cells and though designed to resist extreme temperatures, the years of neglect could have left them compromised and the crew were fully aware of the consequences.

  Haruka focused on the canisters, pinned to the hull of the chamber behind webbing. She knew they would be wrenched off by the force; she bit her lip hard.

  The Bug was the most technologically advanced craft the Caspian possessed. The newly invented Lacecell skin shone gold in the spotlights. From its stout abdomen, flexible claws extended in readiness and the small but formidable craft sprung to life. Multi-positional Ion thrusters generated powerful, yet sensitive thrust, enabling graceful flight not unlike a hummingbird.

  With a meter to spare, the Bug swooped between the vast bay doors and banked hard left towards the burning freighter. Three minutes later the craft arrived at its destination. Claus expertly tilted the jets; effortlessly spinning the craft, eighty- three degrees until the arms were in reach of the freighter and extended out to securely anchor the vehicle to the hull.

  Stefan and John exited the Bug and made the short space walk to the hatch of the Alexandra. The rattle of Stefan’s breathing within his helmet overwhelmed his senses. He adjusted the volume on his radio to better hear his colleagues’ commentary and they moved hastily to the nearest airlock. The pressurized compartment no longer worked so John quickly opened the outer hatch and peered through the window to the inferno beyond.

  Stefan patched through, “How are you doing, Haruka?”

  “Oh, I’m fine,” she replied with unabashed sarcasm.

  Their Captain tried to act calm as he relayed the plan, “We’re just going to cut through this hatch. We’ll be with you in no time.”

  Haruka was not reassured.

  Initially, they planned to open the hatch and let the vacuum of space extinguish the fire, but with the fuel cells stacked there, ready for removal a new danger presented. The big man gritted his teeth and turned to John, “When we open this hatch, everything that isn’t bolted down is going to fly out of there like a bullet from a gun”.

  “We could catch them,”, John suggested.

  “Have you got a catcher’s mitt in that suit?” Stefan quipped.

  John pondered a moment and said, “We could use the solar array.”

  “Are they strong enough?”

  John shrugged, “They’re made of Lacecell; supposed to be bullet proof.”

  “Sure, but it could wrench the sails from the Bug,”

  It was very risky, maybe impossible but the cells were worth millions, even one canister would make the trip worthwhile. The men discussed the options; if they opened the hatch the cells could be lost, if they left them in the fire the whole freighter could blow up, either way they had to get Haruka out.

  Aware of the time constraints, Stefan made the decision, “Okay, we’ll go for it but I think we need to slow the escape.”

  John explained his plan to Claus back on the Bug. Claus considered the Bug his family after playing a pivotal role in its design and construction. He knew every inch of the craft, from the ion thrusters to its complex navigational computer.

  After weighing up the loss of the solar array compared to the lost salvage, Claus reluctantly agreed to the plan. He adjusted dials, occasionally referring to his computers’ predictions and gently moved the craft back to the optimal catching distance. Once in place, he flicked the switch that deployed the solar array. Light glinted off the silver panels as they unfolded to form an enormous, reflective umbrella, three times the size of the Bug itself. Backwards in relation to the Alexandra, Claus could only view the scene from his navigation monitors that showed camera images from all angles of the craft, including one at the centre of the solar array.

  He watched his Captain push back the outer hatch and then rivet a heat blanket around the opening. When three-quarters of it was secure, the two men ducked inside the makeshift tent, out of his view. The tiny airlock allowed Stefan to reach in and access the internal door with his legs dangling out in Space.

  “Ready to go, Captain?” Claus enquired as he made his final checks. Captain Stefan Andersen took a deep breath, hoping for everyone’s sake that this ridiculous plan would work.

  He began winding the wheel. “Okay everyone, only a couple of turns.” Hopefully this blanket would reduce the momentum so Claus had a chance of staying in one piece.

  A thought came to Claus, “How do we know the material will tear equally?”

  “We don’t – I’m counting on your quick reactions.”

  Claus muttered something inaudible.

  Stefan returned his attention to Haruka, “Are you still with us Haruka?”

  She had been silent for the past ten minutes, trying to conserve her oxygen.

  “Just get on with it!” She waited behind the door, trying to look through the blackened window and the flames in the room beyond. Only a tiny spy-hole sized portion of clear glass remained, she naturally attempted to clean it with her glove and the despair returned.

  Once the hatch opened and the fire extinguished, Haruka would have the agonising wait while Stefan and John release her.

>   Haruka O’Brian was twenty-nine and already a highly-regarded pilot and until this point in her life, fearless. She was not familiar with being on the wrong side of a rescue and the cramped isolation was beginning to rattle her. Tapping her oxygen gage, she balled up near the floor and began to meditate; her only comfort, the reassuring hum of the life support system within her suit.

  John bobbed outside the tent structure, beneath his Captain.

  “So, you’ve got it John, when this door opens, you’re going to pull me away, right?”

  John’s breathing came hard. He was concerned about his life-support; his pulse could be felt in his temple. Checking his tether, he found a lip of metal for leverage and practiced the action of pulling them both away. Confidence returned and he acknowledged, “Yes, you can trust me, Stef, you won’t lose your head.”

  “On my count: five, four, three, two...”

  The hatch spun back wildly, John pulled Stefan’s leg hard and the metal skimmed his Captains head with millimeters to spare. A cloud of smoke and crawling flame imploded to nothingness, quickly followed by the unheard hissing of ventilation ducts; a dying breath in the disappearing atmosphere. Stefan and John dodged the debris, clutching their tethers for dear life as everything collided at the opening behind the blanket. A second later the material broke free and the debris continued on its path; the angry, twisting metal and hoses fought to escape into the vacuum of space. Several canisters whistled passed them, tangled in their netting and their inertia propelled them straight into the waiting umbrella of the Bug. Claus immediately reacted, jolting the craft forward away from the freighter to compensate for the speed of the escaping debris. As the cells hit the sails, momentum pushed the Bug further back towards their own ship; Claus franticly adjusted his position by activating short bursts of the thrusters, back towards the freighter to slow everything down. The jerky movements helped to absorb the velocity of the power cells and eventually the Bug came to a halt a little too close to the Caspian for comfort. Claus released the breath he had been holding, “Okay, that wasn’t so bad.”