Vandread Fan Fiction ❯ Counterattack ❯ Old Ties ( Chapter 6 )

Vandread isn't mine. Okay. More original characters, just two, they're both mine. I'm not exactly sure what to call the Melanas Fleet ships, so I'm calling the smaller ones cruisers and the larger flagships carriers or just flagships.

Flight Lieutenant Baha Lina of the 323th Fighter Wing, 69th Melanas Fleet strapped himself in. As he waited for confirmation from launch control, he started flipping switches and toggles, going through the mental checklist that was every pilot's lifeline. Forget one thing on that list, and you can't blame the ship if it goes weird on you.

"Avenger One, you are cleared for launch, proceed according to preset flight plan."

"Aye. Awaiting Catapult procedure." As he waited, a conveyor belt carried his ship through the flight deck, and placed it in the waiting hands of the catapult. He could have taxied the ship himself, but decided not to. The engines could stay on standby for now.

A shrill whine became audible as the powerful electromagnets of the catapult warmed up. He almost grew impatient as the number in front of him counted down. The countdown had started at ten, a far cry from combat conditions, when five was considered too long. He braced himself as the number neared zero. Here we go! He felt the familiar kick in the butt as the catapult propelled him from zero to a thousand kilometers per hour. His main thrusters weren't even powered up yet.

"Avenger One, begin phase two."

"Acknowledge, powering up main thrusters," gripping the throttle, he pushed it up to idle as soon as he was a safe distance from the launch bay, powering main thrusters just enough to maintain his current speed. Priming his weapons, he set course for the firing range, on a nearby asteroid. Diving in at attack speed, he made one attack run after another, coming at the dummy targets from all possible angles of attack with all possible combinations of weapons. The high-G maneuvers eventually took their toll and as soon as he had performed all prescribed actions, he fired his braking thrusters, slowing down.

Yes, if the current performance was any way to judge, the new technologies were already beginning to show their caliber. He smiled wolfishly. They were not the first Melanites to have any contact with the people from beyond the magnetic storm. That honor belonged to a different task group, one that had been tragically annihilated in an encounter with a Harvest mothership. They had been the first unit to respond to the call for reinforcements, but all they had found were debris, and the robotic data drones that Melanites launched before going into battle. The drones contained data logs, and recorded battle data. That was how they had learned about Hibiki Tokai.

As they had surveyed the battlefield, and viewed the pod data, for the first time since they locked horns with the Harvest fleet, they felt the glimmerings of hope. Here finally was one strong enough to stand against the evil that the First Homeworld had become. For a long time since boarding their ships they had felt like a hunted people, beleaguered and desperate. But now there was a chance.

A single humanoid powersuit had destroyed a Harvest mothership. According to its pilot he had been aboard a ship and had had friends. As they tracked the beacons their hopes and admiration grew. In battlefield after battlefield this ship, this Nirvana, had obviously bested the Harvest fleet. And it was just one ship trying to go home. That meant that wherever that home was, there could be more like it.

So they had followed on. If these people were as powerful as they seemed, an alliance with them could not hurt, after all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. But more importantly, these people had technology. In every battle the Nirvana had engaged in since then, they had only been a few steps behind. They had always arrived just as soon as the Nirvana had won and moved on. It was not that they would not have helped the Nirvana, she was just too hard to catch. Each battlefield they had arrived in was fresh, though, allowing them to collect data and analyze debris. Of particular interest were the fighters these people used. The ones they had learned later were called `Dreads', a fitting name. They obviously shared ancestors with the Melanite fighters, being based on the old single-seat Deep Space Recon Interceptors of the Colonization fleet, but were lightyears beyond either in terms of technology. The preliminary data alone suggested that although there were at least two, possibly three mass production models based on hull debris, all were built around the same basic core, a pod containing the cockpit, life support and a few others. All other components… weapons, thrusters and verniers, even the outer hull itself, were added on at a later time, possibly at the time of launch. Furthermore, the labcoats theorized, each fighter could support many different combinations of weapons and payloads. Astounding! It almost ensured that each Dread was tailored according to its pilot's tastes and preferences. But this versatile modular design was only icing on the cake. The technologies at its core, the engines, weapons, and even the materials and alloys used were superior to Melanite designs.

It took a while, long after the Great Battle in which they had finally gained the honor to fight alongside this people, but eventually their best engineers were able to incorporate some of the technologies they scavenged from the Dreads. The result was this, the Avenger prototype. It was still not at par with the Dreads, not by a long shot, but it was already more powerful than the standard Melanite fighter. When it entered mass production, the Harvest fleet would be in for a rude surprise.

"Alright, Avenger One, that's enough for today. Return home." "Roger, copy that." Aiming his ship at the launch bay, he pulled back on the throttle, killing his main engine. For safety purposes, main thrusters were kept deactivated while within a few hundred meters from the bay. He used his verniers to bring him down. He was already on his final approach when his threat indicator pinged. A long-range sensor buoy was beaming data, and it didn't look good.

The face of his overall superior on the Avenger test program, Fleet Captain Lamb'a Nog appeared on his HUD, "Lieutenant." "Captain," he acknowledged. "I'm sure you're receiving the same data we are. Their ETA is twenty minutes. I've already ordered the evacuation of all non-combatant personnel, along with all the data we've gathered. I've also sent for reinforcements, but it looks like they're gonna be late. For now, all we have is a cruiser and our two squadrons of fighters." The pilot did some quick figuring, "That's not gonna be enough. What are your instructions for the Avenger, sir?" "Better take her in, we'll reload her with live ammo. Figure now is as good a time as any to make an actual combat test." Baha nodded, he understood the risks involved.

********

Maila made one final stroke with the paintbrush. And smiled. First Generation Workhorse was done, resplendent in her new yellow coat broken here and there by black diagonal lines, much like a construction vehicle. The go-ahead had finally been given to personalize the machines, just leave the shoulders for unit identifying marks. The left was to be in gold, bordered by black in honor of Hibiki's SP Vanguard, to identify them as the Nirvana's Bangata complement, the right was to carry the squadron markings. Hers was bare for the moment, Able Squad had yet to come up with a squadron insignia. She glanced over at the neighboring berth. Jarod's IC had side torsos and skirts in green crisscrossed by gold, like circuit boards. Other areas were in plain black.

The paint was dry. She had just finished putting away the materials when the room darkened a bit and the red lamp on one wall started flashing. Red Alert! Something was up, so she ran to her machine and started running the systems up to standby. As they warmed up, the other pilots started arriving.

The battle was brief. Even with the two Melanite squadrons already there, there was plenty of cubes for everyone. It wasn't exactly a baptism of fire for the newly issued Type 102s. Two Cube Gateways could hardly provide much of a challenge against 85 one-man ships. They hadn't even needed to use the Vandread's firepower to finish it off.

"All right, Able Squad, let's go home, followed by Baker Squad. Charlie… er, Colors Squad, you're on station keeping. Search for survivors." Jarell smiled as the third squad fanned out all over the scene of the recent battle. Melanite fighters weren't particularly robust, several pilots had been forced to bail out. Colors, commanded by Neville Gray, was scanning with every bit of sensor capability it had in search of these lost pilots, the surviving Melanite fighters were doing the same. They had been Charlie, but with surnames like Black, White, Tan, Red, and so on, had asked to change their name to Colors Squad. The idea caught on so well pilots from other squads who had `colorful' names had asked to transfer in, and those in Charlie who didn't had graciously agreed to be replaced and reassigned.

********

Lieutenant Baha Lina and Captain Lamb'a Nog stood hunched over a computer screen, poring over the data from the battle. Of particular interest to them was the flight data from the prototype. As far as they could tell it had performed according to specs, even better.

"Should we tell them?" The younger officer could no longer contain his curiosity. It didn't matter to him what the answer was, as long as there was an answer. "Tell who?" The senior officer didn't bother to look up, instead keeping his concentration on the console. Analyzing the data was more his field, as opposed to his subordinate who was along for his piloting skills.

"You know, the Nirvana crew. About the prototype." Again, the person he was talking to didn't bother to look up. "I think they already saw it in action." "That's not what I'm talking about," the Flight Lieutenant persisted, exasperated at his superior's deliberate, as far as he could tell, vagueness.

Finally the Fleet Captain looked up. "Even among our own people the existence of the prototype is need-to-know. They've already seen it in action, so they already know it exists. There's nothing we can do about that. Suffice for them to know that we were testing a prototype fighter out here, they don't need to know where we got our inspiration." The junior officer nodded. "I understand."

********

The atmosphere in the squadron briefing room was easy now, as opposed to previous days when it was always tense with the anticipation of combat. Jarell smiled, he understood. As did most of the seasoned veterans in the room. Seated next to him, Jarod was zoned out as usual, his eyeglasses completely fogged over as he tapped his fingers on the table, typing on an invisible keyboard. He was muttering sounds of fascination to himself. Jarell was secretly worried. It was no secret that the boy was odd. The problem was that he seemed to be getting odder by the minute.

"There's something different about this place." Maila had just arrived and quickly sat herself down at their table. She saw the difference immediately, she didn't really spend all that much time in the squadron briefing room. Jarell briefly wondered what strange cosmic disturbance had brought her here. Not long after, Dita, Meia and Hibiki walked in and joined them. He stared at them. Hibiki and Dita he could understand. He'd been given to understand that they were some sort of `item', although he was unsure what that exactly meant. He did understand that having Meia with them was strange. He took note of the fact that they were Vandread pilots. Perhaps that formed some sort of bond with them. If so, why wasn't Jura with them?

He shook his head clear of questions as Meia asked what Jarod was up to. He simply shook his head, he wasn't sure either.

Dita smiled as she took in Jarod's outfit. Gone were the Talark khakis. He still wore the knee-boots, but a loose pair of khaki six-pockets, still tucked into the boots replaced the baggy jodhpurs. The khaki shirt was gone. Instead he just wore a black long-sleeved shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Not bad. Misty had seen. She had, in fact, just complained this morning in between sobs how `dashing' he looked. Finally, in an effort to get the show on the road, she started. "Hey Jarod, nice threads, you out to impress someone?" The younger boy simply continued what he was doing with nary a shrug. "Oh, come on, Jarod, no need to be shy about it." It was Hibiki this time, but still no reaction from their target.

Maila watched the two younger people badger Jarod, a smile forming on her lips. They were obviously up to something. Whatever that was, Meia was in on it, despite the serious expression, laughter was evident in her eyes. Jarell, however, was not. In fact, the way his facial expressions shifted, you'd think he was the one being picked on, instead of the youngest one on the table. Let me see. So far, their jibes seemed to focus on Jarod dressing to impress someone, having no need to be shy about it, and so forth. That's it. Five bucks say they were trying to get to Jarod, make him react in a way that would reveal his feelings, probably about that Misty girl who had hung all over him before they departed. For some strange reason, she'd been keeping to herself since departure. Jarod was odd, and as far as she could tell had amazing powers of concentration. But he had neither the experience nor the training to control his emotions. Soon they would reach his breaking point and whatever his reaction would be, it would be telling. Something told her that Jarod wasn't really used to being sociable. Her more practiced eye also told her that Jarod avoided Misty more out of misunderstanding his own feelings and not really knowing what to do rather than fear or dislike.

Jarod had had enough. Clicking his computer back to standby, his eyeglasses cleared again into that pale blue tint to reveal an annoyed glare. Casting irritated glances at Hibiki and Dita, he stood up stiffly and made his way out. Why did they have to bother me about that? He made his way to the Paexis chamber and sat down on the catwalk. He'd planned on continuing with what he was doing before Dita and Hibiki started bothering him, but somehow he just sat there, leaning against a railing. It had been a while since he'd last seen Misty. He missed having her follow him around. He missed her making him food. Women's food was delicious in itself, but somehow, Misty had some secrets about making certain types of food, making their taste not only delicious but also… fascinating. He missed her making idle conversation with him, even though his responses were usually only in grunts and harrumphs. He missed… her.

He sighed. This was probably what Hibiki and Dita had been up to. Get him worked up enough so he'd get to thinking about Misty, and more importantly, his feelings for her. Oh well, it's not as if he really knew what to do with her. Better stick to things he did understand for now, he'd deal with Misty later.

********

"What are you talking about?" Jarell was puzzled. Almost as soon as Jarod had stormed out everyone else on the table started talking, jabbering on about how `it worked' and `that got him thinking'. Even Maila was excited, almost as if she was in on it, which was highly unlikely as she really didn't hang around with the other three, or with any other people for that matter. It was making him feel left out. And if these people thought getting Jarod upset was a good thing, they'd better explain why.

Pretty soon the table had quieted down, and both Jarell and Maila had been initiated into the plot.

********

"Bingo! No wait! I wonder if…" Jarod had just made a breakthrough, and he wasn't sure if it was good or bad. One thing he did know, he'd better tell somebody. As he hurriedly made his way to the bridge, he didn't notice the brown eyes silently watching him from behind a doorway at the opposite end of the catwalk.

********

It wasn't long before all the pertinent officers were called together. Meia and Jarell had happened to be in the same room with Dita, Hibiki and Maila. The three now tagged along for the emergency meeting with Gascogne, BC, Magno and, strangely, Parfet.

"Thank you all for coming at such short notice." BC began, "I've just come across some information, which, although of debatable relevance, will at least be interesting." At this he stepped aside, yielding his position to Jarod. Everyone was surprised, and absolutely failed at hiding it.

Jarod cleared his throat, then began. "Earlier, I noticed an interesting… thing out during the battle." He tapped his bracelet, and the briefing screen was replaced by a recording of a section of the previous battle. "As you can see, this fighter," the recording paused and the one he was indicating was encircled in red, "is similar in design to the standard Melanas fighter everyone knows, except for its larger size and a few other minor details. Tentatively known as the Avenger prototype, testing it appears to be the only purpose for this facility." He was referring to the small asteroid they were currently orbiting.

"So? What's the big deal with that? They probably didn't want the other Melanites to know until they have results." Whatever reasons the Melanites had for wanting to keep the secret, Jarell was obviously no stranger to them.

"Why would they want to keep it secret from their own comrades?" Hibiki, on the other hand, didn't quite comprehend the need for secrecy.

"Well, lots of reasons, for one thing, if it fails catastrophically, it might be bad for morale. Melanite fighters aren't all that advanced, the knowledge that an attempt to create a more advanced fighter failed might be demoralizing. And there's also the risk of espionage." Jarell tried to enlighten everyone.

"I suppose you're right," Maila nodded, seeing his point, in a way. "Melanite war tech isn't really all that advanced. From what I've seen, only about a few decades more advanced than Colonization era. Talark and Mejayl both have better war tech because they've been at war for so long. Melanites, on the other hand probably didn't have any reason to advance their war tech until about a generation ago, when they first learned about the Harvest."

"Ahem," BC coughed to get everyone's attention back. "If you'll all just turn your attention back here." She motioned for Jarod to continue. "I was curious, so I poked around a bit in their databases." As one, the faces of those assembled assumed puzzled expressions, except Jarell's. He knew what the boy meant when he said `poked around'.

"And I learned a few interesting things." Jarod's hands were now flying in front of him. The screen behind him changed image several times, showing schematics, statistics, and a streaming feed from a security camera. All these divided up the screen.

"Hey wait a minute!" Parfet shouted as she started digesting all the data. "I can't really read Melanite print, but the schematics look familiar." A look of triumph appeared on both BC and Jarod's faces. The spy nudged the prodigy, urging him to continue.

"Well, when I saw the schematics for the weapons and stuff, I decided to compare them with Dread designs, and they're practically similar."

"You're right about that," the technical expert moved around the table to get a closer look, adjusting her glasses. "It's practically a carbon copy, although the manufacturing techniques and the materials used aren't all that efficient. No, it won't be able to put up with as much strain as the Dread systems can put up with."

"You're saying they might have copied it?" Meia finally spoke. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't we monopolize the capability for creating Dreads? Even Mejaylans can't make them."

"Not for a while, no." Gascogne spoke up. "The Mejaylans did develop the technology, but seizing the Mejaylan Asteroid Factory that was the primary manufacturing facility for Dreads was one of our first actions as pirates. In fact, that's where we made our home. And Mejaylans can't make them because our next action was destroying the other manufacturing facilities and hacking into the databases and destroying all knowledge of making them. Which brings us back to your question, and the one after that… which would be where did they copy it from?"

"I can answer that", Jarod enlarged one of the streaming video feeds to show an enormous chamber containing salvaged parts from Dreads. The briefing room fell into a hush, and only Dita could be counted on to ask the obvious. "Is that battlefield debris?"

******** (Statement at an earlier conversation. <Speaker>)

Jarell went out of his hiding place and got his gear ready. His black bodysuit was environmentally sealed, except around the neck. It fit like a second skin, but was flexible enough to allow free movement. A hidden flip-up panel at his wrist showed that its battery was full and the cooling system was already functioning properly. He put on a multi-compartment vest, also of the same dark shade, closing the fastenings snugly around his torso. Multi-sensor computer feed goggles were perched at his forehead. A palm-sized computer pad, a tamer version of the one Jarod wore on his wrist, went into a pocket on his breast. A magnetic impeller pistol, modified to fire cartridges that injected a strong anesthetic rather than the standard transuranic spheres, at a lower speed, of course, went into a holster secured around his right hip. Additional ammo clips went into slots on his gun belt, important because the longer injector cartridges meant that the ammo capacity of each clip was drastically reduced to a third. Magnetic suction pads, useful for hanging onto metallic walls and ceilings, one button activates all, were readied. Two were already attached to his knees, serving the additional role of knee protectors, the other two for his hands went into pockets at his abdomen. A plasma field bayonet, adjustable in length from dagger sized to sword, went into a charger-scabbard at his gun belt, you never know. Other items went into various pockets and a knapsack that he securely fastened to his back. (Are we just gonna let them copy our technology? <Meia>)

He tapped the two seated at the shuttle's pilot and flight engineer's posts, "ready?" As soon as he asked, a screen activated at the console, showing a view of whatever it was his goggles, or rather the sensors embedded into them, were pointed at. "You just get to that prototype, and I'll have you flying it in no time." Meia smiled from the helm. Jarod, for his part, simply nodded at him, his glasses already a deeper shade of blue than usual, indicating that his computer was primed for the task at hand. (It isn't exactly stolen. Strictly speaking, there's really nothing wrong with how they acquired the tech. <BC>)

"I don't really have to fly it. Just show me where to poke around so I can use this." Jarod patted at his breast pocket. He looked at his suit's wrist chrono. It was already fifteen minutes into the tour of the Melanite facility that Magno had `requested' and was granted. She was accompanied by BC and Parfet. It was time. A quick glance at the external camera views indicated a pair of guards at the shuttle's main entry ramp. Otherwise, the launch bay, occupied mainly by the shuttles used in an emergency evacuation just a few hours previous, before the battle began, was empty but for the occasional tech. He smiled, piece of cake. (These people have already lost their homeworld. If making a bigger, badder fighter that will help them put up a better fight makes them feel better, who are we to stop them? <Hibiki>)

Quietly, he opened the top hatch. Looking carefully around, he slowly pulled himself onto the shuttle's roof, keeping himself low, just in case anyone was watching. Peeking over the edges, he made sure the two guards were still where they were. They haven't got a clue. Putting the magnetic pads on his palms, he slowly climbed down the other side of the shuttle, away from the guards. He silently dropped down to the launch bay floor. Crouching down, he peered at the underside of the shuttle, all four legs were still there. Satisfied, he lowered his goggles over his eyes, a floor plan of the facility, showing his position, was superimposed on his vision. Getting his bearings right, he made his way to a nearby air duct. (I'm more concerned with the possibility that they could get themselves hurt or worse, killed tinkering with technology they don't fully understand. <Magno>)

The asteroid facility was large, its lower levels honeycombing their way all over the asteroid's interior. According to the floor plan Jarod `obtained', the areas closest to the outside contained the communications/control equipment, hangars, and stockpiles. The others, quarters, research and testing labs, etc. were located progressively deeper into the interior. The hangar bay he started out from was devoted mainly to shuttles and cargo or passenger transports. Fighters were housed in a different launch bay that was, fortunately, just adjacent to it. It was child's play to move through the air ducts and maintenance accessways into his destination. Post-battle checks and repairs on the fighters were for the most part done, so the fighter launch bay was deserted. That made it easier. Easily spotting the single largest fighter in the hangar, he gingerly climbed into its cockpit. "Okay, now what?" He scanned the instrumentation panel for possible connection jacks, but the console was totally alien to him and did not yield up its secrets. "Try looking around the computer boot up toggle switch." Following this hint from Meia, he squinted at the rows of toggle switches. Still no luck, so he looked around the cockpit again. "There! To your left!" Given that he'd been keeping it quiet, Jarod's excited voice was deafening. "Pipe down, okay? Now where was that?" he turned back to his left, and blinked when a circle appeared in his view, pointing him where. A closer look proved that it was indeed a computer access port, properly labeled as such. Jarod's antics. Belatedly realizing that it would be put someplace where a tech could plug diagnostic devices into it without having to climb into the cockpit, he plugged in. There was a slight beep as the onboard computer booted, and a whisper of a hum as the virus was uploaded. Jarell tensely watched around until the status bar blinked an upload completed. Got it! Time for phase two of his mission. (Ay-yah! At the normal temperature, pressure and radiation emissions of a Dread engine, the materials and assembly techniques they used will degrade. I'd say about two hundred hours until it gives in, causing a catastrophic loss of integrity. <Parfet>)

Crawling on all fours through the Jeffries tube, he made his way to his next mission area. He peered through the screen of the vent. No one was in the chamber, although an infrared scan showed guards posted outside. Where they would be absolutely useless. Dropping silently to the floor, he looked around. Glancing at the security camera, he fervently hoped Jarod had done his job with the cameras, there were a lot of guards outside. He toured around the various platforms in the spacious chamber letting his goggles' sensors get a closer look at each piece of debris. Once he was satisfied he had gotten to all of them, he started with the other things he had packed, gifts for each item in the room. Then, he moved to the wall that schematics showed had open space behind them, attached a package there, too. He moved to the door, unpacking the last gift he had for this place. He winced as the metal bar attached itself to the door with a loud clang, minute claws digging into the two halves and keeping them in place. The chamber was now completely sealed. Scooting back to the vent, he closed it and dug into his pack for a large metal ring about a decimeter thick along one end and only half that along the other end. Settling it at the base of his skull and around under his jaw, he pushed a button. A cool viscous liquid seeped from ring, permeating his collar completely, then hardened, making an airtight seal. He pushed another button and the thicker back portion extended like a hood over his head. A tinted visor settled over his face, the portion under his jaw extended upward to meet with the visor and a green light soon blinked to show that he was ready for vacuum. Let the show begin. (We must think of it as letting them come up with their own solutions. As being the instrument of their own progress. <Gascogne>)

Magno stifled a yawn. The tour was complete. Now they were stuck here at the shuttle's ramp while the base commander, Fleet Captain Nub or Dog… or something similar… droned on about being honored with her august presence. Suddenly, a young officer approached the man. Saluting smartly, he leaned into the superior officer's ear and whispered something. Magno watched the sudden interchange of emotions on the captain's face. So the fireworks have begun, eh? "If you'll excuse us, it seems you have an emergency to deal with. So we'll be taking our leave." Smiling, she turned and climbed into the shuttle without waiting for a reply. "Just a minute!" The captain now had a security squad at his side. "If you don't mind, we would like to inspect your shuttle for dangerous items." "Like what?" Magno smiled, "weapons? Explosives? Spies? You're welcome, of course." A search revealed no such thing. "Thank you for your cooperation," the captain's expression was now frosty, as he raised a comm. unit to his mouth. "Launch control, give our guests clearance to leave, immediately." As one the pirates faced forward, fastening their seat harnesses. Not wishing to risk detaining the pirates without justification, Captain Nog watched the pirate shuttle lift off. Now, the saboteur had no way out. (We not only destroy their sample, we also make sure they don't ever salvage it again? Make them build one from scratch? They're not gonna like that. <Dita>)

Jarell watched the chamber from the concealment of the air vent's screen. The Melanites were finally able to cut their way in, all dressed in space suits. An officer had taken one look, and then stormed out. His troopers followed him, leaving only two to stand guard. He smiled. Pushing the screen, he let it drop to the ground. It should have been noisy, but sound had a little bit of trouble traveling through vacuum. One did notice the movement, but by the time he turned patting his companion, it was too late. A cartridge lodged itself into his midsection above his belt, where the suit was thin on padding and would be close to his skin. He went limp as the anesthetic took him. His companion managed to get a weapon out, before Jarell took him also. His goggles flashed. Jarod was back. He'd been forced to break the connection when the shuttle was searched. Jarod simply signaled a good luck before breaking off once more, to minimize the risk of detection. He was on his own again. He inspected his handiwork. Taking the resealing tape out of a pocket, he taped the punctures on his victims' suits shut. No point in letting them die of depressurization when he'd gone through all the trouble of using non-lethals. The explosions had also torn a section of the wall, opening it to space where the debris from the explosion had been sucked out by the sudden decompression. Exactly as planned. He made his way out, no one was the wiser where his exit point was. No one had expected him to actually stay in the area where the explosions had occurred. He'd just doubled back to the corridor. (You won't be using the shuttle to get back? <Jarod>)

Just before the Nirvana got too far out, Meia launched. Jarell was still on the asteroid. She circled around it, keeping just below the range of the beacon that Jarell would be activating intermittently, to prevent triangulation. There! She quickly homed in on a signal, running a gantlet of anti-fighter batteries. No other ship, Dread or Vanguard could go as fast as she was going, only the Vandread, her Vandread, could go faster. She kept her trajectory straight, screaming in at breakneck speed, closer and closer, until she fooled the guns into thinking she was about to crash. Braking thrusters roaring, she pulled back, gently touching down on the asteroid surface. A slender figure was already approaching. "Jeez, I was the one who got scared for you." Meia simply smiled through the visor of her pressure seat in return, as she opened her canopy. "Wait a minute. Where do I sit? Does this mean I get to sit on your lap?" Meia shrugged. "It's the only place to sit. Or maybe…" She stood up to switch positions. "I think I'll do the sitting on laps. I still need to see where I'm steering this ship." Finally, I get to sit on somebody, instead of the other way around. Ramming the throttle forward, she accelerated off the surface, duking and dodging like a bat out of hell. (The way they've replicated the engine, I'm sure they'll eventually come up with a way to do it safely, and using the technology that they already possess. <Maila>)

********(Two days later)

Flight Lieutenant Lina watched helplessly from his ejection pod as the Avenger, now pilotless, continued on a straight line for a few more kilometers, before turning into a huge fireball. His internal sensors, especially on the engine, had just inexplicably gone red, and the ejection procedure had initiated on its own. "What could have gone wrong? Could it be the pirates?" He hurriedly asked Captain Nog's face when it came on his comm. "I don't think so, not the explosion, anyway. The labcoats have just finished analyzing the data from the diagnostics on the original prototype engine, looking for signs of sabotage. They found no such thing. What they did find was signs of material deterioration. It appears that this was bound to happen. The pirates' way of showing it us to just happened to be rude, but they might have actually done us a favor. The geeks are already sitting down, looking for a way around the problem."