Falkirk hefted the shivering body of Martinez over his shoulder. If she stayed in the frigid Antarctic air any longer than ten minutes, she would be dead. Falkirk was obligated, however, to continue the search for any survivors of the Palm attack that might have been left behind. He made a split-second decision that the lives of his squadmates were the most important things in the situation.
“Valmont, Velez, I want you to get Dunn and Martinez back to the plane. Do it, and hurry. The U.S.S. Midway is probably the closest. That’s a fusion-powered carrier, and it’s off the coast of West Africa right now. Go to it, and godspeed.” Falkirk ordered.
Falkirk watched as Valmont lifted Martinez over his shoulders, and sped off. Velez, following suit, raced off after him.
Falkirk looked at his remaining troops. Simon, Heinrich, and Galil were all that he had left. It was very risky to be in a combat situation with a team of so few people.
Falkirk made a mental note of this, and decided that he would have to proceed with caution.
“Simon, you’re second in command here until we see Valmont again. Let’s check this place out.” Falkirk said.
The group of four walked in a straight line, up and down the streets of Palm. The explosions from the missiles had vaporized all of the dead bodies, and at least a foot of ice as well. There had to be something left though, something that Falkirk and his group were missing. Falkirk stumbled onto it immediately.
Stumbled over it, to be specific. Falkirk picked himself up from the ground, turning around to find a solid steel door placed flat against the ground, fortified by the concrete frame on its sides. The door glimmered and shined in the hot white sunlight of Antarctica. A keypad appeared to be built into one of the sides of the door. Obviously, Falkirk thought to himself, more than environmental research had been going on in Palm.
“Anyone good at electronic lockpicking?” Falkirk asked.
“Let me give it a shot, sir. I’ve seen stuff like this before.” Galil said, inspecting the keypad.
Falkirk looked around as he was waiting. Falkirk let his mind drift to speculating what might be behind the door, reflecting on the obviously heavy security. Falkirk had no idea what to expect, and, if he had any idea in his mind whatsoever of what it was, it was something very expensive.
“So, what have you been doing with the Rangers?” Falkirk asked Simon.
“Did some stuff in the war with the Chinese Communists, but that was only at the beginning. Just blew up some weapons dumps, army camps, airfields, that sort of thing. They let me work awhile in former Russia, killed some terrorists, and an assassin that somebody sent to kill me. He wasn’t very good. He should have known that people can see a laser sight when you shine it right in their eyes.” Simon said.
“Can’t believe that you haven’t found some girl yet.” Falkirk said. “Hey, certain people happen to be girls, here.” Heinrich said jokingly.
“Sorry about that, ladies.” Falkirk said, switching over to a secure command radio frequency between him and Simon.
“Not that I couldn’t, but it’s just not right for me. You remember in high school, when you said that you weren’t going to go back on your ambitions? I felt the same way. So did Nate Dunn. We just didn’t fit in anywhere else, you know what I mean? I can’t settle down.” Simon said.
“So that’s why you signed up for this suicide mission?” Falkirk asked. “Personally, I’d rather get my body blown into a million pieces than die of old age. I think you probably feel the same way.” Simon said, as Falkirk saw his suit designation wink off of the radio channel that he was currently on. Falkirk realized though, that he did indeed feel the same way as Simon. He had to live on the edge, or he couldn’t feel alive at all.
Switching radio frequencies back to the standard channel, Falkirk heard a muffled curse, and then saw the two steel doors yawn open, the maw beckoning the four inside.
“There you go. This mechanism is something else. Whatever must be inside of here is clearly pretty important.” Galil said, vexed.
“Alright everybody. Let’s see just what’s so important inside of these doors.” Falkirk said, stepping into the inky blackness.
Falkirk’s armor quickly began to map the walls of the area in polygons, and proceed to shade them in. The view that he was given was better than if the lights had actually been on.
Looking around, Falkirk noticed a large number of computer stations, all labeled. One said Olympus Mons, one said I.S.S., and one said Luna. All of the Earth’s colonies, as well as the international space station, were listed here. There was one thing that concerned Falkirk though. The I.S.S. terminal had a flashing red light. Falkirk quickly moved to check it out as the others entered the room.
Falkirk moved to the computer, a touch-screen model. Playing the most recent communication, Falkirk was horrified to find that the aliens were ahead of them yet again.
“This is the I.S.S., to Antarctica Base. The aliens have come aboard, they came through the air locks. It looks like they don’t need oxygen to function. We’re sealed into the American and European Union sections. We need help now!” The message winked out. Falkirk checked the transmission time. Only ten minutes ago. There might still be a chance, Falkirk thought.
“Did you all hear that? We’ve got to get to the I.S.S. now! Any ideas?” Falkirk said, addressing the group.
“Don’t they launch things up from here into a geostationary orbit?” Heinrich inquired.
“Yeah, they’d have to have some sort of rockets to do that. See if you can find out where from that computer.” Simon said.
Falkirk moved up several levels of computer menus. Accessing the launch base menu, he selected a menu that looked promising. The nearest one, which appeared to be through a red doorway to his right, seemed to be the best chance. Falkirk stood, walking quickly towards the door. Falkirk pushed it open, and the rest of the group followed quickly. A large Saturn X booster awaited them, the mammoth rocket designed to stay in space for an eternity after it had been launched, simply traveling between the I.S.S. and the other colonies of Earth, with its four massive fusion powered engines.
Falkirk stepped into the launch elevator, the others following suit. Ascending to the top of the massive five-hundred foot tall spacecraft, Falkirk realized that this rocket, one of the greatest achievements of humanity, could sustain a human for an indefinite period of time in space. Falkirk simply stared in disbelief.
The launch elevator stopped at the top of the mammoth spacecraft, the brushed aluminum door beckoning the four. The four walked towards the door, like the astronauts of man’s first forays into the vacuum of space. The door slid open as Falkirk touched a small keypad located on the side of the door. Falkirk stepped inside.
The makeup of the interior was very luxurious, with carpeted walls. There was no place to sit in the cabin, but Falkirk did find straps for the three others against the walls of the rocket. After they were securely tightened, Falkirk made his way up to the cockpit, climbing using the handholds. Seating himself comfortably in the cockpit, Falkirk familiarized himself with the controls. They were very much like the ones in the space plane that he was trained in for low earth-orbital flights. There were a few buttons that he didn’t recognize though, which had been conveniently marked with short definitions of what they did. Falkirk pressed the “open bay door” button.
The signal transmitted from the spacecraft caused the massive doors above to pull backwards, revealing a bright, sunny sky above Antarctica. Ice fell from the doors and splattered onto the cockpit, forming large globules of water. The doors finished their smooth opening, and Falkirk slammed his fist down on the large green launch button.
At first, the ship moaned, as if it were in pain. Then, the engines kicked in, slamming Falkirk hard into his seat. The impact nearly forced the wind out of him, even in his armor. The ship was aloft, though, and Falkirk looked out the sleek shape of the cockpit to see the ruins of Palm falling away from him, becoming a black spot among the white of the ice.
The altimeter continued its steady climb upwards. Now, at over two hundred thousand feet, the ship began to tilt over, heading not so much upwards as sideways. The ship continued up, the four massive fusion engines carrying their crew.
The acceleration ended. Falkirk felt the gravity of the speed subside, and give way to the weightlessness that he so enjoyed. Quickly unstrapping himself, the last thing that Falkirk did was to set a course to the International Space Station. Floating into the passenger section, Falkirk saw the three others already floating around the cabin.
“Fun, huh?” Falkirk said, removing the helmet of his armor.
Falkirk watched as the others did the same, feeling the excitement of being weightless for the first time. At first, they seemed to be having trouble, almost trying to swim.
“You have to push yourself off of a wall to move. Like this.” Falkirk said, bounding off of the various walls of the spacecraft. It was fun to Falkirk, because in space there was no up and down. He started running on the “ceiling”, and the others joined him.
“Enjoy it while you can, because the I.S.S. has artificial gravity.” Falkirk said. “Artificial?” Simon asked.
“It spins fast enough to create a situation in which the velocity forces things to the floor. It’s a lot of physics, which Nate Dunn would probably be able to understand.” Falkirk responded.
The others were trying with varying degrees of success to move in their new environment. Falkirk was amused, but he realized that being able to move in zero-g was not a skill that they would need for the mission ahead. What would be needed, however, would be a good plan.
“Okay, let’s get a plan going here. Since we only have four in our team, we’ve got to stay together. No getting separated and no going outside of the space station without my express approval. If you do find yourself in an airless section, these suits of armor can provide you with an hour’s worth of oxygen. No more oxygen means that you’re dead. Understand?” Falkirk said. There were nods by all three people.
“Furthermore,” Falkirk continued, “our primary goal is to rescue these people and get the station back into working order. The Martian colonies can support themselves, but the Lunar Colonies won’t survive for more than a couple of weeks without supplies. Kill every alien that you see, but don’t shoot unless you’re sure that you’re going to hit. The armor on the station could stand up to a simple burst of gunfire, but nothing concentrated. Also, you’re going to see tubes full of a neon-green liquid lining the walls. Those contain the chloroplast solution used to recycle oxygen on the station. A single bullet could destroy those, and our supplies of air at the same time. Let’s be careful out there.” Falkirk finished, returning to the cockpit to prepare for docking.
Falkirk maneuvered the bulky spacecraft with the small retro-rockets along its fins. The two cavernous areas designated for docking the incoming space ships had been a recent addition. When Falkirk had first visited the I.S.S. for the first time, there had only been airlocks lining the hull. Now, docking was simple, like parking a car.
The ship drifted into the second bay, the bay furthest from the American module, and closer to the Chinese area. Falkirk watched as the far wall of the docking bay grew closer and closer. Docking a spaceship, without the aid of a person onboard the space station itself, was more difficult than Falkirk had originally thought. Finally, after several deep breaths, Falkirk hit the “transmit signal” button.
The infrared sensors in the door’s mechanics detected the signal emanating from Falkirk’s spacecraft. The doors slid open, creating no audible sound in the vacuum of space. The doors revealed a small area, which would ten be pressurized for Falkirk and his crew. Falkirk adjusted the attitude of the spacecraft, a little left, more clockwise spin, and the ship connected to the docking clamps.
The doors whisked shut again, and Falkirk heard the hiss of breathable air flowing into the room where the ship was located. Held aloft by the docking clamps, the ship did not fall to the “ground” when Falkirk felt the returning sensation of gravity. It was time to go.
Punching the open hatch button, Falkirk walked back from the cockpit to find that the docking ramp had been extended to the hatch. Walking from the ship with the three other members of his group, Falkirk prepared for combat as soon as they left the confines of the airlock.
At the end of the ramp, Falkirk found the airlock door, the light above it glowing green. Falkirk punched several buttons in rapid succession, changing the light color from green to red. The door slid open, and the sight of dead bodies lining the floor, their internals spilled, creating dark red patches on the gray carpet, met Falkirk.
“Okay, let’s go. Follow me, and don’t get separated. Simon, Heinrich, you cover the back.” Falkirk ordered.
The group moved quickly through the terminal, finding no alien activity. Falkirk expected this, and rapidly began to move down the hallway that pointed to the American and European Union modules of the International Space Station, the two largest.
The halls were lined on the sides with living quarters, a necessity for the scientists that stayed onboard the station for more than a month. For any travelers, colonists, or scientists going to Mars or the Moon, the I.S.S. was the only stop-over point. Commercial companies flocked to the task of providing for the shelter of those on the station. A conglomeration of restaurant and service companies purchased “real-estate” on the station, turning parts of the European Union and American modules into expensive restaurants and lavish hotel rooms for those in transit.
It seemed almost fitting that the companies with the most money would be the first to make their way off-planet.
Falkirk continued his progression towards the American module with great care. Any number of things could go wrong with the aliens in control of the station, from loss of gravity to complete depressurization. Oh, the possibilities, thought Falkirk to himself.
The hallway ended abruptly, branching from the terminal onto the main concourse and the adjoining labs. Opening the door, Falkirk found the main concourse to be in surprisingly good shape. Chloroplast tubes, positioned everywhere around the concourse, were, on the whole, undamaged. This indicated that the aliens were likely not so concerned about the destruction of the station as they were about simply taking it over. Although the oxygen providing chloroplast tubes were of no necessity to the aliens, they provided vital cooling functions for the large amounts of electronics on the station, and their destruction would likewise result in the destruction of that electronic equipment.
Falkirk found the next hallway to the American module, which easily dwarfed all of the modules of other nations. It was the size of a large corporate office building. The government had been constantly building and improving in order to resell the additional space to private concerns. The communist governments, not having this concern, simply did not see the need to expand their modules beyond a barely adequate size.
The door slid open, its thin slit opening vertically. The aliens had apparently already been here, as the strewn corpses lying upon the floor showed. There was evidence of a firefight, however, and Falkirk heard the sounds of guns being fired not far ahead. Falkirk motioned for the group to follow him, and then proceeded hurriedly towards the sounds of violence.
Falkirk came to a large plaza-type section, where the American and European Union modules met. There were a large number of businesses located in the plaza, to serve any trans-planetary commerce that needed to occur. Falkirk saw a hail of bullets and lasers slicing through the air and into a large group of aliens. Falkirk also watched iridescent trails from rail guns streak through the air. The magnetized aluminum rings seemed to strike their targets before they left the guns. Falkirk realized that station security was clearly fighting back with everything that they had.
Falkirk gave the signal to take up firing positions. The alien swarm had already stormed through a good portion of the business section, tearing apart dozens of entrances for various corporations in its wake. There was a good amount of cover for Falkirk and his group, and Falkirk hoped that it would aid them in getting the drop on the aliens before they realized what was going on. Falkirk lined up his TG-10 and let loose with a burst of tungsten-tipped rounds.
The tungsten tipped rounds dug into the alien ranks, felling dozens. While Falkirk was not entirely displeased with the results, tungsten-tipped rounds were the only type of rounds that he felt comfortable using. They were the only thing that would most certainly not penetrate the walls of the station, as they were designed for ricocheting off of walls in urban combat situations.
Falkirk shielded his eyes from a bright laser burst from Heinrich’s laser pistol, which flew over his head and hit an alien, roasting and then splitting it in half. The aliens turned towards the four members of the group, only to be met by aluminum death from Simon’s rail gun. The weapon was extremely effective, and Simon’s precise aim tore into the alien ranks time after time. Falkirk watched as Simon flicked a switch on the weapon, sending it into burst mode. Thousands of miniscule silver-aluminum composite rings sprayed out at close to half the speed of light, annihilating the aliens by the hundreds.
Falkirk turned back to his own fight, and realized that an airlock had to be open, as the oxygen reading for his armor began to drop from one-hundred percent. Falkirk radioed for the others to cover him, and began weaving his way through the alien masses, cutting a small swath around him with his gunfire. The aliens had apparently left the air lock from which they entered the station open. Bad manners, thought Falkirk, making his way through the melee.
Falkirk saw an airlock hatch open, a gale-force wind sucking him towards it. Falkirk knew that that hatch had to be responsible for the loss of atmosphere inside of the station. It was opening and closing sporadically, clearly malfunctioning. Falkirk made his way to the controls and opened the airlock, the depressurizing forces wanting to pull him out of the airlock. Falkirk held tight against the seal of the door and watched as thousands of the tiny aliens flew out the air lock, still moving in an eerie dance in the void of space. They would eventually be incinerated in Earth’s atmosphere, Falkirk realized with a grim smile.
Taking his first steps out of the air lock, Falkirk realized that he was still spinning with the station. Gravity still had a hold on him. However, a burst of his gun would change that, sending him flying hopelessly into the void.
Scanning the metal monstrosity that was the space station, Falkirk saw lines of aliens walking along its surface, moving towards the hatch that he was just coming out of. Falkirk took his first steps outside of the protection of the station, moving down the station with the ladder rungs originally welded onto the station to aid in its construction.
The aliens were moving quickly towards him, moving far faster than they were able to in the atmosphere. Their slender, knife-like arm appendages aided them by allowing them to hook into the metal and use it to propel themselves. Falkirk knelt against the right angle corner that formed the base of the ladder from the hatch, and, with one hand against the rung of the ladder, aimed for the alien line. He fired.
The hundreds of shots fired in a time period of a half-second went flying to the right of Falkirk and off into space. Falkirk then realized that he would have to compensate for the rotation of the station in his second burst. Falkirk turned almost perpendicular to the aliens this time, and fired another hundred-round burst. The shots arced in a parabola-shaped pattern, but flew true.
Falkirk, unfortunately, did not realize that by compromising his right angle position that he then compromised his grip on the ladder. The rung, which he had a tenuous grip on, wrenched and bent from the recoil, sending Falkirk flying helplessly upwards, away from the station and into the void.
Well, I’m screwed, thought Falkirk to himself. The adrenaline still coursed through his veins, and he had a hard time fully comprehending his situation. However, Falkirk felt a definite force slowing him, pulling him back towards the station. He looked down to see Simon, braced against the airlock door, pulling him back down into the station. Falkirk listened to Simon’s laughs over the radio.
“Looks like you need some help with that big, powerful gun of yours!” Simon joked, aiming the recoilless rail-gun with one hand at the long line of aliens coming towards them. Simon pulled the trigger, the rings flying so quickly that the station’s rotation didn’t have a chance to affect their path towards the aliens. The rings embedded themselves in the aliens, sending them flying off the space station.
“Let’s get back inside, Captain. I think we’d both like to breathe air that’s not in limited supply.” Simon said.
Falkirk closed the airlock behind him and surveyed the damage. It was substantial. The alien threat was contained.