Ronin struggled to get in line with the open landing bay door, firing the engines to slow down before they passed it altogether.
“You're going to miss it,” Slick informed him, already calming down.
“Shhh!” Ronin shot back, increasing thrust. The engine struts creaked under the pressure.
“You're going to lose engine two!”
“It's fine, can't afford to miss this landing otherwise we'll be back in line behind everyone else.” Their trajectory finally pointed towards the landing bay and Ronin redirected the engines to slow them down. Out of the corner of his eye engine two flamed out as its strut bent backwards and the cables carrying power to it tore. The sudden failure caused the fighter to spin as the landing bay loomed. He cut power and braced himself.
“Too fast!”
Ronin didn't have time to reply. He knew it wasn't as bad as it looked, but second guessed himself as the Uriel starfighter struck down on its side and skidded several meters before stopping. He opened his eyes and looked around. They'd managed to stop on one of the elevator pads that led into the Triton’s secondary hangar. It began lowering, drawing them into the main body of the ship. “Perfect, considering what's left of this thing.”
“You are not going to tell me that was on purpose,” Slick objected.
“Sure it was, and you can't prove otherwise,” Ronin chuckled.
"I hate you."
The airlock door above them closed and the chamber pressurized before the elevation pad proceeded. Another elevation plate slid in place above them and gently rose to touch the other side of their fighter. As they emerged onto the pressurized secondary hangar gravity reversed and increased. The secondary elevation plate took the weight and an emergency response team rushed to extract them from the fighter, putting experience from countless drills to use.
The longest armoured plate from the side of the starfighter was unscrewed and removed in short order so Ronin and Slick could climb out with the team's assistance.
“What the hell are you doing out there? There's nothing left of this! It's not a collision derby! You should have ejected!” The Assistant deck Chief exclaimed at them furiously. Her hundred thirty centimetre tall frame wouldn't be intimidating except for the enormous voice that screeched forth from it. Paula had become notorious for her raspy, high pitched voice and for scathing beratings.
Ronin didn't bother looking behind him and smiled. “Nothing some shrink wrap and sealing tape can't fix. Have your teams ready a Ramiel fighter, I'm heading back out.”
“My ass you're heading back out! Anyone who wrecks like this with a SIO right behind them shouldn't go out in a solo fighter, especially right after touching down!” Paula exclaimed exasperatedly.
“She's right, Minh, you should hit the flight control deck, help Oz direct things from there. Besides, he said things are cooling down,” Slick said.
“I'm fine, better than. The Clever Dream is running rescue ops and we'll have two fighters left to patrol after our damaged birds get aboard. I'm going back out.”
“Listen to your Sensor Intercept Officer Ronin,” Paula pleaded irritably.
“Get a Ramiel down from the racks and into the punter now, that's an order, Assistant Chief.” Ronin told Paula, pointing to the racks of pristine, predator like single seat Ramiel fighters lining the port side hull.
“Do it. He's the Wing Commander, it's his call,” deck Chief Vercelli reinforced quietly over the communicator.
“I'm taking your wing. You're not going out alone,” Slick told him.
Ronin looked at him with mild surprise and nodded. “All right. Stay close.”
“Cancel that. You're pairing with Hood. Slick's stress levels are too high,” Oz interjected from the flight control deck. “You're going to help Triton cross the barrier now that we've disabled the larger ships and turned them back inside.”
“Sounds like a plan. I'll be out in a couple minutes,” Ronin turned to Slick; “Sorry, looks like you'll be on your own next time.”
Slick nodded. “I'll head to ready quarters and cool down. Oh, and congratulations.”
Ronin cocked his head. “On making it back alive? That's no surprise.”
“No, on making ace your first time out. I counted six kills.”
“It's not hard when we were so badly outnumbered.”
“You should get to the punter if you want to help coordinate out there, Minh. You're in shaft nineteen,” Oz informed him over the comm. “You launch in three minutes.”
Chapter 7
“We have an update from the boarding squads Captain,” announced Oz. The bridge above him was abuzz with activity as they finished extending a gravity net around the disabled Palamo and redirecting it to slowly descend back into the obscuration field. “You have to look for yourself.”
Jake pulled it up on his control pad, inviting Ayan to look over his shoulder. The situation at a glance was alarming. “Stephanie, get four squads together and ready for pick up. I'm calling the Cold Reaver back and you're going to secure the station personally,” he ordered over the comm.
“Aye sir. We'll be on deck in five ready to board,” Security Chief Stephanie Vega replied.
“I'll have Ronin relay the order, he's on his way through the field right now,” Oz added on the command comm channel.
“He's going back out?” Ayan asked.
“Punting him in a minute, yup.”
“Are you sure he's good for another go out there? He just put down six fighters and disabled two mid sized ships.”
“His stats are healthier than mine, as cool as a cucumber,” Oz replied. “Besides, things are pretty much under control and we need a good pilot to coordinate our passage through the barrier.”
“Figures. Get him in a cockpit and he's right at home.”
“His SIO is pretty shaken up though. Not that I can blame him. What Minh managed to set down on the deck didn't look much like a fighter. I think he left half of it out there.”
“But they're okay?”
“Not a scratch. I'm taking Slick out of rotation for twenty hours though. He'll be taking debriefing duties instead. Minh has a note here saying that he wants him to get familiar with the paperwork so he can take the second squad leader position.”
“We have a problem,” Jake said, pointing at the end of the boarding squad's report. “Stephanie,” he opened a comm channel to the Security Chief. “We're dealing with a slave crew, they have det implants.”
“You're kidding. Did they set them off down there?”
“Yup, a whole incursion crew was killed as our team surrounded them.”
“All right, taking it under advisement.”
“What's a det implant?” Ayan asked.
Jake's eye was drawn to where Ashley was taking her place at the helm. She looked completely recovered. She had already overheard Ayan's question and looked unphased. “It's a slaver's tool. They implant a device with three or four compounds that combine in different quantities to kill, disable or detonate a slave if it suits whoever holds the controller.”
“I wore mine until Jake bought me,” Ashley commented as she quickly, calmly reviewed all the helm status information. Larry, her navigator, was at her side bringing up the most pertinent bits of information and making manoeuvre recommendations.
Ayan looked to her for a moment, stunned before returning her attention to Jake. “She was a slave?”
Jake nodded. “They had a remote disabling device implanted in her breastbone when she was two. I removed it with nanosurgeon bots when she joined my crew.”
“I had no idea.”
“I bought three slaves while I was running the Samson.”
“I'm not the only one?” Ashley asked. “I'm hurt.”
“There were two before you.”
“I'm hurt,” she repeated with a feigned huff.
“You were the most expensive, if that makes you feel better.”