Or Die Alone

"But...I can put in a word with the captain and see what he says. No promises."

"I would be eternally in your debt, and if I get off-planet I can raise the alarm about the conditions here, maybe I can help everyone else too."

"Well...wait here a while, I'll be back soon."

She exited through an automatic door, Boyd taking a seat by the nearest window and watching her walk out across a ramp to a spaceship that was resting on the landing pad. The harsh winds blew at her fur, and she held up a long arm to shield her face. The vessel was larger than the shuttles that were docked adjacent to it, though still on the short side, it wouldn't carry more than half a dozen crew members. It had four large engines on stubby wings that looked as if they could pivot, a blocky and angular craft without any of the aerodynamic curves that UNN vessels usually exhibited. If it was jump capable then the drive must be small and short range, it may have been towed in by a larger vessel and dropped off nearby. There was Cyrillic lettering down one side of the craft that he couldn't read, his computer could probably translate, but better to avoid drawing attention right now.

He tried to look inconspicuous as the PDF patrolled nearby, keeping his head low, starting to think that maybe he had gone overboard with his disguise and that street urchins shouldn't be sitting in the spaceport.

Finally the Polar returned, entering through the automatic door and shaking her fur like a wet dog, sending a cloud of dust and sand falling to the floor. She muttered something in Russian that sounded like a complaint or a curse, then spied Boyd. She marched over to him, leaning down to his height to break what must be good news, judging by her expression.

"I brought it up with the captain, and he says you may ride with us, on the condition that you pay for the resources you consume. Food, oxygen, water and so on."

Boyd made a show of his gratitude, which seemed to satisfy her, cutting the display a little short after drawing a look from a guard.

"I am in your debt," he said, "can we leave soon?"

"We can go now, I was about to leave when you cut me off. You're lucky, if you had come a few minutes later you might have missed me."

He followed her out of the spaceport and into the blowing winds, the noise of airborne particles hammering against his clothes almost drowning out the sound of spaceship engines. Her vessel looked larger close-up, and they mounted a landing ramp that descended from the starboard hull, taking refuge from the sandstorm as their footsteps echoed on the deck. There was a mechanical whir as the motors closed the ramp behind them, then a hiss as the bay was pressurized, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the relative gloom. They were standing in a small landing bay, a few crates and loading machines scattered about, the interior of the ship was narrow and industrial with naked metal surfaces and hanging wires. It looked old, pre-Coalition maybe, a rust bucket by any modern standards.

"Welcome to the Zemchug," the Polar said, her voice carrying through the corridors. She shook herself again, showering him in red sand and dust. "It means ' pearl', at least she was back in her day. She has lost her luster, but she flies as well as she ever did, follow me rebenok."

He tailed after her as she walked through the corridors, the ceiling too low for her giant frame in many places, forcing her to duck. It was a miracle she could fit at all, not only was she tall and broad, but she was portly too. Boyd didn't know if it was her fluffy fur that gave that impression, or if she really was as heavy as she looked, but there was considerable weight on her chest, butt and hips. She had to turn sideways to pass through some of the more narrow doorways, the ship had clearly not been modified at all to accommodate her.

She led him through the spine of the vessel, one claustrophobic passageway that spanned the length of the ship, doors branching off to the left and right of them into various cabins and rooms. Even at a standard human height, Boyd found the hanging cables and protruding pipes to be a hazard, ducking and dodging out of the way of them as they walked. Everything smelled of engine oil and metal, musty and poorly maintained, like the ship belonged in a scrapyard rather than on a landing pad.

The corridor opened up into a more spacious cockpit, holographic readouts and banks of switches taking up much of the space, with a large transparent window occupying the forward wall. There were two men in pilot chairs who swiveled around to greet them, one wearing an archaic captain's hat, and the other consoles were manned by three other people in civilian dress. They exchanged greetings with the Polar in Russian, then turned to Boyd.

"Is this him? Welcome aboard, Mister..."

"Jones," Boyd said, stepping forward to take the captain's hand. He was thinking on the fly, he would have to change his ID to reflect that later, in case they wanted to confirm his identity. "I appreciate this, captain, if you can get me to the nearest UNN controlled planet or outpost I will be happy to transfer any funds that you ask."

"That is quite alright, Mister Jones, I ask only that you compensate me for the resources you use during your stay. I have to say, I do not usually pick up hitchhikers, but your furry benefactor made quite a case on your behalf."

"Thank you both, I'll try to keep out of your way."

"You can bunk in the boiler room," one of the others said, a man wearing engineer yellow who was sat behind a console to his left. "We'll put a mattress in there for you, it isn't the Metropol, but it should do just fine. If you get hungry there are rations in the mess, just ask Sibirskiy and she'll get you what you need."

The alien glanced down at him and smiled.

"I'm also the cook," she whispered. "Well, as much as you can cook with ration packs, but there are ways to make them more appealing."

"We lift off soon, take a seat on the bridge and strap in tight, the ride can get a little bumpy in atmosphere."

Boyd followed the alien over to a row of crash couches against the wall and strapped in beside her. While the ship itself had not been modified to account for her impressive stature, there were a few larger couches here that seemed to be designed for her species, they looked newer than the human sized examples and were crudely welded to the hull of the ship.

"Is that your name, Sibirskiy?" Boyd asked her.

"No, that just means 'the Siberian', that's where I'm from. My name is Lorza."

"Everyone get strapped in," the pilot said," we're taking off."

There was a rumbling that shook the deck, Boyd feeling it travel up through his legs as the vessel's engines flared to life, struggling to lift them off the landing pad. It felt as if they would be shaken apart, and he gripped the armrests of his seat in mild alarm as odd and worrying metallic sounds carried up from the corridor. The Zemchug lifted off finally, sand hammering against the cockpit windows as the stubby nose of the craft angled upwards towards space.

Boyd's stomach lurched as they accelerated suddenly, the g-forces pressing him against his chair, Lorza seemingly unperturbed by the wreck of a ship that was threatening to fall apart around them.

"Is this normal?" Boyd tried to shout over the noise, the vibrations making his voice waver.

"Don't worry about it," Lorza replied with a laugh, "she'll hold together."

After a couple of tense minutes, the rumbling and shaking abated, the vessel clearing the atmosphere and entering open space. Boyd breathed a sigh of relief as the artificial gravity field kicked in, securing his feet to the deck after a brief moment of weightlessness. He waited for the go-ahead from Lorza, then unbuckled his harness and rose to his feet unsteadily, still recovering from the bumpy ride.

"She may not be smooth, but why replace something that works well enough?" Lorza commented.

A very Russian stance to take, the aliens were really absorbing the local culture of the Federation it seemed. The rest of the crew had risen also, and were stretching their legs and chatting in their native tongue. The velvet blackness of space was visible beyond the window now, dotted with twinkling stars, the nose of the ship slowly fading from orange back to grey as the metal shed heat.

"Let's see, who else do we have here," Lorza mused, scratching her furry chin with one of her black claws. Her hands were massive, like some kind of bear, she had three fingers and a thumb almost as thick as his wrist that ended in wicked hooks. "That over there is Alexei, he is our geologist, he doesn't speak English so don't bother trying to introduce yourself. You met the captain, and Mikhail, the pilot. The woman is Roza, she is a Federation surveyor, and the last guy is our engineer Sokolov. We're out here looking for new resources and potential colonies, I'm responsible for mapping everything out and recording our findings."

"Have you been out here long?"

"Oh, a few months now. It was nice to be planetside while we refueled, but Hades is a miserable place for my kind, yours too it appears."

"You don't like heat and dust, I take it?"

"Nyet, I'm more a fan of snow."

The captain chimed in, walking over to join the pair.

"Our course takes us close to a UNN asteroid base, should take us less than a week to reach it, we'll drop you off there and you can be on your way."

"I'm not sure if Lorza has told you everything, captain, but you've saved my life. Hades is under the control of organized criminals and they're holding the workers there hostage, using them as slave labor more or less. Thanks to you I'm free, and if I can raise the alarm at that asteroid base then the UNN can restore order on the colony."

"I am glad to be of help, but do me a favor and don't mention the name of my ship when you give your report, eh? We operate a long way from home, and I don't need a bounty on my head."

"Of course, of course."

"Lorza, maybe you take our guest to the mess and get him some food, I doubt he ate well on Hades and it might do him some good."

She nodded her great head, her mane of long, white hair bouncing in the air.

"Da, Kapitan, follow me Jones. Let's get you fed."

They made their way back down the main corridor, and just as they were turning into the kitchen, the ship shook. Lorza steadied herself against the walls, bracing herself as Boyd grabbed a nearby table to save from falling.

"Is 'that' normal?"

"No, that one was not normal."

An intercom buzzed to life, the captain's voice echoing as it came through the speakers, he sounded as alarmed as Lorza looked.

"All hands, all hands, something has locked on to our ship. Attempting-"

Everything went dark suddenly, the intercom shut off along with all the lights on the ship, the pair plunged into absolute darkness as they began to float off the floor. The gravity was out too, the electronics, probably the engines. Was this one of the EMP warheads? Had the syndicate fired one from the surface in order to bring down the ship? How had they tracked him?

The lights flickered back to life, and Boyd found himself clinging to an exposed pipe as they hung in the air, Lorza's ears swiveling on top of her head like a pair of radar dishes.

"The backup generator kicked in, but I don't hear the engines, what hit us?" She looked down at him suddenly, her blue eyes piercing. "Do you have something to do with this?"

Before he could reply, there was a shout from up the hall, it sounded like the pilot. Lorza called out a reply, Russian again, he couldn't follow the conversation.

"Navigation is down, engines offline, we're drifting."

"What happened?" Boyd asked.

"Maybe I should be asking you that question," she replied. "Wait here."

She clambered up towards the cockpit, pulling herself along in the zero gravity, and Boyd waited as instructed. He heard more conversation, increasingly alarmed to his ears. After a couple of minutes Lorza returned to him, her expression dire.

"Something locked on to us and knocked out our power, probably an EMP of some kind, there weren't any other ships in local space so it must have been fired from the surface. The backup generator has restored life support and low-priority systems, but the engines and navigation are still offline. Sokolov is going to try to restart the engines, but we're caught in the gravity well of Hades' moon, if he can't get them back online then we're going to crater."

Boyd knew that he was caught, but he didn't have to reveal the whole truth, he could still hide his real identity.

"I had no idea that this would happen, I would never have imagined that they would go to such extremes to stop me from leaving. That is if you're sure this isn't a pirate attack?"

"No other ships in range, it must have been a missile that was fired from Hades."

"Should we get to the escape pods then?"

"Escape pods?" Lorza laughed derisively. "What do you think this is, a pleasure liner? We have no escape pods, this ship is twice your age."

"Well, what do we do if the engineer can't get the engines back online?"

"Then we buckle in and hope we land on something soft."

There was no escape then, he could incapacitate the crew and then steal a space suit, it was doubtful that anyone would be able to identify any of the bodies after the crash and it would be assumed that he was dead. But there we no ships out here to find and rescue him, and if they were already caught in the moon's gravity then it would be pointless to try to spacewalk. His escape was a bust, and surviving the crash that was coming would be next to impossible. There was more Russian shouting, and Boyd looked to Lorza as he waited for a translation.

"That was Sokolov, thrusters are back online, engines have taken irreparable damage to their electronics. Looks like we're going down."

"What do we do? Where on the ship is safest?"

"We're going to be hitting the ground at near terminal velocity, nowhere is safe."

"The beds have harnesses for when the gravity fails, right?"

"I guess so, why does that matter?"

She was trying hard to hide it, but she was afraid, her long tail was flicking back and forth reflexively as she tried to keep her cool. He should try to reassure her, she might not survive but he owed her that much at least.

"Lie on a bed, with one mattress on top of you and one beneath, then secure the safety harness to keep it in place. It won't do much but it's better than nothing."

"You sound like you've done this before," she replied, her tone accusatory.

"Just trust me, it's safer than being in the cockpit, even if it only increases your chances by a few percent. One more thing, do you have any fire suppressant foam canisters or bombs for shipboard fires?"

"Probably."

"Good, when we're about to hit, activate the suppressant, it will fill the room with expanding foam that might help dampen the impact."

"Hold on, how are you so calm about this?" Lorza exclaimed, perhaps a little louder than she might have intended. "We're about to crash, we could die, and you're here like...like...some kind of robot!"

"There are procedures that we can follow to minimize danger, at least marginally, death is statistically likely but not certain. The thickness of the atmosphere will be a factor, whether we land on a solid or a liquid surface, the aerodynamics of the ship and how much air resistance it generates will come into play. The force of the thrusters will probably be the deciding factor in this case, if your engineer was able to get them working properly then they may slow our descent enough to raise our chances of survival by a large margin, that is if the g-forces don't cause the pilot to lose consciousness before we hit the ground. By my estimations our chances of survival are one in five, favorable by most standards."

"You're not a miner, are you? If you get me killed, I'm going to haunt you, mudak."

She covered her face with her furry hands and growled in exasperation, it could have been an expression of frustration or maybe fear, it was hard to tell with these aliens. Being shot down was almost expected for UNN personnel, there were drills and training that everyone from pilots down to marines went through in order to minimize risk, and most importantly so that they could remain calm and collected in a time of crisis. It didn't do to think about death too much, if you died you died, there was no way around that. The majority of crashes were not survivable and the death would be painless, cratering at orbital speeds or burning up in a fireball, but Boyd welcomed pain. Pain meant life, suffering was for the living and he would take it gladly over the final peace of death.

"Just do as I say, it's your best chance to live through this."

She snarled in disgust and vanished, off to find suppressant no doubt. She returned a short while later with some small, round canisters the size of tennis balls, throwing one to him. He plucked it out of the air, it had warning markings down the side, an old model but a fire suppressant grenade. They were primed and then thrown, the idea being to fill a room with fire retardant foam that would choke out the flames as quickly as possible, but if the foam was packed tightly enough it would also absorb shocks. Probably not enough to save their lives, but it was worth a shot.

"We don't have long, do whatever you're gonna do,' Lorza said. She made her way off to the cockpit, perhaps intending to inform the rest of the crew of his method. The pilot and captain would need to stay on the bridge, if they had thruster control then they'd need to be manning the helm right up until the vessel impacted, they would almost certainly die. Maybe others could be saved, but that wasn't his concern, the information he carried was of the utmost importance.

He floated his way through the ship, looking for a cabin, and found one. There was no name on the door, but it didn't matter. He entered and with some difficulty in the zero gravity, pulled the mattress off the metal frame and out into the corridor. He took it into an adjacent cabin, releasing it to let it float in the air, and lay down on the bed beneath it. He reached up to grab the mattress, realizing that is was slowly falling, micro-gravity meant that they were far inside the moon's gravity well and that the ship was falling belly-down. He secured the safety harness over the mattress that was on top of him, sandwiching himself between the cushions, then took the suppressant grenade in his hand. The cabin was small, this grenade should be able to fill it with foam, this was as safe as he could possibly be.

He didn't expect to survive, and if he didn't, then his mission was over regardless.

He gritted his teeth as the ship's thrusters engaged, plumes of flame firing from the ship's belly in a futile effort to slow their descent, the g-forces crushing him against the bed frame even through the mattress. The vessel rocked and shook, the sound of straining metal and wind tearing at the hull deafening him, but the pilot kept it level. They plummeted through the moon's atmosphere, Boyd could feel that the ship was in a flat spin, and he felt himself beginning to black out as the inertia started to draw the blood from his brain.

He hit the activation switch on the grenade with his thumb and dropped it, taking a deep breath as it clattered to the floor and the foam hissed and expanded to quickly fill the cabin. He felt the cold solution through his suit, crossing his arms over his chest as he prepared for the hit.

CHAPTER 3: BLOWBACK

Boyd awoke to freezing cold, taking in a sharp breath of the frigid air and feeling a burning in his chest. His ears were ringing and he couldn't remember where he was, did he have a concussion? He tried to sit up, but the pain was too great, and he collapsed backwards into the snow.