25

Boarding Actions

John rushed quickly to the communication array access panel, two decks below the medical bay near the forward section of the ship. If he could get a message to some Klankharis Realm forces, he could get them a precise position of the vessel and they could send boarding parties to recapture the ship.

At least, that was the plan.

As he rounded a corner leading to the forward communications array, he spotted three people.

Edward, Leila, and the guy who had plunged the shiv into his throat the last time they fought. John swallowed, his throat dry all of a sudden, and then felt a phantom pain in his throat as he recalled the knife plunging through to his airways, causing his lungs to rapidly fill with blood.

He shook off the distressing memory and tried to clear his head, focusing on the fact that this character was now stalking both Edward and Leila. He crept quietly as he could, hoping that his footsteps were muted sufficiently by the deck plating, and that the assailant did not hear his approach.

"You know, we've been looking for you," the thug sneered at Leila, who gaped at him, frozen in shock. "Your brother wants to kill us because of you. See, we threatened him that we would bring you in and start cutting off fingers and toes, breaking kneecaps, to get him to help us."

Those sick fucks, John seethed inwardly.

"And you know what he said?" The thug drawled, John continuing his painfully slow progress toward the guy's back. "He said he didn't give a fuck about you, that he'd be happy to see you both dead."

John knew that for the lie it was. Whatever else Jason was, he was fiercely protective of his sister. There's no way he would ever wish harm upon her, not even as a means of deceit.

Apparently, so did Edward. "You don't know our family as well as you think, if you expect me to believe that," Edward said quietly. The thug quickly stepped toward the older man, hitting him across the face with the back of his hand, hard. Edward collapsed to the floor, but the glare he gave the thug was cold fury.

It was clear to John at that moment where Jason got his steel from.

"Still, doesn't matter. You're no longer of any use to us, so goodbye-"

With that, the thug reached toward Edward on the floor, about to pull him up. John didn't hesitate, as he pushed off into a sprint, rushing the man and plunging the injector into the man's neck. The powerful sedative entered the man's veins, but it didn't take effect quickly enough, as the thug elbowed John in the ribs, and tried to shake him off. The butt of the energy rifle came flying towards John's nose, but John let go of the man's back, reached for the stock of the rifle, and started pulling with everything he had. The rifle missed his face, and now the two of them were rolling on the floor, attempting to wrestle the weapon out of the thug's hands.

It went off.

John continued to struggle, fearful it could hit someone, hoping to God that it didn't, and that Edward was smart enough to get him and his daughter out of the way.

He didn't see either of them in the brief glimpses he had of the corridor as he continued to roll around, wrestling the rifle out of the thug's hands.

Why the hell wasn't he weakening? John was desperate, his strength was beginning to wane, and he needed this over with quickly before he lost his grip and the thug freed himself to grab the weapon and shoot him dead with it.

Out of nowhere, Leila had collided with the thug's head in an almighty kick that sent him sprawling, losing his grip on the rifle and causing it to fly out of both their hands to the deck. She was immediately up on her feet, running toward John, when the thug pulled his shiv out again, and prepared to plunge it into whatever he could get his hands on. Leila was too close. She would be stabbed mortally if the thug got his way, but he was beginning to tire.

This bought John the time he needed, as he dove for the rifle, picked it up, flipped it around, and sighted it on the thug's head as the knife started to arc toward Leila's back.

He fired.

The blast from the weapon plunged straight into the thug's head, knocking him back forcefully, and causing the knife to miss its target. The thug collapsed to the deck, and the only movement was from the occasional nervous twitch.

He was dead.

John let out an exhausted sigh, just as Leila sharply called out for her father to come back. Within moments, Edward was there, looking John over, and breathing a sigh of relief. "Glad he's dead," Edward told them both. "That's one death I won't lose any sleep over."

John sighed. "You can say that again," he muttered. "Come on, I gotta get to the control panel for the comms array."

"Let me guess," Edward spoke up. "Letting our people know how to get to us?"

John nodded tiredly. "Come on," he told them both.

'A' reached his destination, a launch bay near the back of the ship. He knew of two small launch vehicles, both small, both short-range, neither FTL capable, and neither with any meaningful amount of life support provision.

They were still enough for his purposes, but he knew his time was running out.

He stalked into the launch bay, shooting at both of the security officers who had remained at their posts. Both took hits to their bodies, and went down. 'A' considered shooting them both again to ensure they were dead, but that would take time he needed to launch and get out of the area. Instead, he jumped into one of the launcher, powered it up using techniques taught to him by the technician he had held on the surface, and sent a control signal to the bay doors. Surprising him, a forcefield appeared to flash into existence over the doors and then they opened.

Maybe 'A' should have killed the guards after all, now that he knew the bay wasn't going to be flushed out into space.

No. He had limited time to complete this launch. He pushed the throttle forward, forcing the vessel to launch underneath the only-partially-opened doors, and zoomed out into space. He adjusted his course, poured on speed to get a high orbit, and then cut all power to the systems aboard the ship. In a few hours, he would reach the peak of the orbit, and hopefully he would find what he was looking for.

Miradima waited for news from the teams that had gone out. It had been almost an hour since she had started the retaliatory measures intended to get the situation under control.

"Davidson to Fleet Commander Miradima," Walter's voice sounded over the communicator.

Miradima sighed heavily, letting out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. "Go ahead," she replied punctiliously.

"We've secured the area. Relief personnel are deploying here now, and advise us we can return if you need us to."

Miradima could use his presence, even if she had to keep her command head on her shoulders for the remainder of the emergency. "Understood. Report directly to me when you arrive."

"Understood, Commander." Walter replied, before the link went dead. It piped back up again almost immediately. "Security Command to Fleet Commander," Mephicia's voice sounded over the device.

"Report," Miradima said softly.

"Medevac is on site," she told them, her voice, while terse and a little steely, betrayed a hint of something Miradima understood as pain. "But we need fully staffed medical facilities quickly, or we're going to lose more of them."

"Stay there, I'll get back to you." Miradima told her as she heard the tell-tale alert of an incoming communication. She switched over to the new one. "Fleet Commander."

"Fleet Commander, incoming orbital coordinates have been broadcast. Looks like we have transport coordinates from one of the ships crew. Signature seems to include the initials J and M."

Miradima wasted no time. "Send them to me now. Stand by," she ordered, switching back over. "Mephicia, we have coordinates. Get your people ready to move. I'm sending you up there with the remainder of our security forces. The relief can take over where you are."

"Yes Commander," Mephicia said over the other line just as the coordinates came through to Miradima's wrist pad. She forwarded them on using the device to her security officer, and then closed the connection, returning to the other officer. "Security is on the way to those coordinates now. If you have any additional forces, send them to the same coordinates and get my ship back."

"Yes Commander," the officer replied quickly, and the connection terminated.

Miradima sighed, letting out her pent up frustration at this situation having occurred in the first place. A moment later, Walter jogged over to her, and stood nearby, knowing her well enough that he knew she was too agitated to engage in any tenderness, but knowing also that she appreciated his solid presence nearby. Her heart lifted slightly because of this.

In the end, the retaking of the ship was rather anticlimactic. Fifty or so Klankharis security officers stormed the ship from the cargo bay where they had teleported aboard, quickly and effectively overwhelming the enemy combatants that had been busy trying to burn their way through the blast door protecting the bridge from their attack.

They didn't even see it coming.

Within minutes, the ship was declared as secured, and technicians from the vessel's bridge restored power and began organizing search and rescue teams for anyone else still aboard. Security remained aboard to assist in this action.

Helen immediately contacted the surface as soon as communications were restored, offering her services as medic, and emergency transports were organized to the ship. Jason, being the most gravely injured, was immediately transferred to the ship.

Stephen had just heard from the surface, that the situation aboard the ship had been resolved, and he had asked to be sent back so he could help out as much as possible. His wrist was still somewhat tender, but the bones had fused, and he could at least use it again.

The moment he heard that Jason Mensar had been found in critical condition, he knew that some of his new friends would be there to see him, and his desire to allow them privacy warred with the knowledge that Janet, for all she was furious with Jason at his theft and behaviour, would be distraught that he had been so gravely ill.

He decided to go visit. He could always depart and give them some room again if needed.

Stepping into the medical bay that was now becoming a little too familiar to him, Stephen saw the organized chaos that was taking place. Medical technicians were working furiously around Jason's medical bed, and Stephen nearly went into shock at what he saw.

Jason was unconscious, clearly. He was also covered in lacerations, barely-healed wounds, burns, deep gashes, and bruising. He appeared to have a misshapen nose, his left eye was swollen badly, and his mouth was slackened open, revealing that many of his teeth had been shattered or had fallen out entirely.

Whatever had happened to him, it must have been awful. He couldn't find the words.

It didn't surprise him in the least that Edward was hovering nearby, his face grim, his eyes watering profusely, lip quivering but attempting to remain stoic in the face of what he was seeing. Leila was a mess, she was openly wailing, pleading for the technicians to help her brother, clutching desperately at her father as she did.

Next to them, Janet stood, stock still, eyes red-rimmed. While she stood like a statue, her arm pulled Leila into a hug, and Stephen could see the shaking of her own hands as she did so.

Without hesitation, he stepped slowly over to Edward, and wrapped the man into a hug, squeezing the man's shoulders gently. Edward allowed himself to be comforted by the gesture, allowed his head to fall to Stephen's shoulder, and his breathing became ragged.

Stephen noticed that a hand took his, squeezing. He looked over at Janet, and she stared at him, her expression revealing both anguish and gratitude, as she continued to squeeze his hand in appreciation. He squeezed back as the tears fell from her eyes, and she turned her face back to the top of Leila's head and kissed it tenderly.

John returned to the medical bay at that point, wearied from his trek through the ship. Both Edward and Leila had sprinted off ahead of him when the call came in that Jason had been picked up and was in a critical condition. Since John himself was exhausted, he took his time getting back to the bay.

As he stepped through the doors, he saw the tableau of people holding each other in anguish, and he looked over to get his first look at Jason.

Holy mother of...

If John had absolutely detested Jason at all in his life, that all vanished in an instant when he saw just how badly the kid was injured. He saw exactly what Stephen did at that moment, and that was a badly wounded kid, one who had probably been subjected to God knows what, and one that would probably never be the same again. He said nothing, deciding that his presence would be unwelcome right now, even as Stephen hugged it out with a distraught Edward, Janet held Leila close, and both holding each other's hand. It told John so much in that instant, that they both grieved with their friends and family, yet they also took comfort in each others' presence.

He felt the touch of a hand against his own, startling him. He hadn't even noticed the medical bay doors opening again.

Phee.

His heart sang to see her there, watching over the scene, her pose statuesque, her manner stoic and inscrutable, but there was an ever-so-slight hint of emotion in her gaze as she looked over them, and as she gently stroked her hand against John's, she looked his way briefly, before turning around and leaving.

Part of him wanted to go running off after her, to see if they could talk.

Another part of him reminded him that she had asked for time to deal with her own feelings regarding them, and he was in no rush himself. Trying to get her to confront the situation was not only a counterproductive idea that was almost always doomed to failure in any circumstance, but they were stood in the midst of a medical emergency that had just followed on from an enemy boarding action.

Sighing in resignation, he stepped out of the bay, leaning back against the wall tiredly, and taking a deep breath, closing his eyes.

Opening them again, he looked down the corridor toward the front of the ship. Surprisingly, he saw her there.

"You OK?" he asked her.

She seemed a little hesitant to answer him. "It's nothing," she eventually said.

He pushed off of the bulkhead, slowly approached her, and looked directly into her eyes. "I don't think that's true," he said gently, as softly as he could, holding up a hand before she could protest or object. "I'm not going to pry or ask questions. Just..." He paused for a moment, wishing that she would take comfort in his presence and let him be a sounding board for whatever was concerning her, knowing at the same time, that she wasn't ready to do that yet. "I'm here if you want to talk."

He stood back at that point, and then slowly walked away so she could be alone with her thoughts.