Part 3 -------------- "Lt. Rhodes," James Little stuck his head through the door to the surgical suite, holding a mask over his face. "There it is..." Karen used the tiny vacuum suction to keep the depths of the wound visible for her cohort, Dr. Vela. "Can you get it, Rafael?" With her other hand she retracted the tissue back just a bit more, careful to stay out of his way as he went deep to try and grab the piece of shrapnel. "Got it," he said. "Hang on." His brown eyes looked up toward the ceiling while he concentrated on holding the slippery metal in the forceps of his medical glove. He breathed a sigh of relief when he dropped it into the basin along with all the other wicked little pieces. "Thanks." "Lt. Rhodes?" James repeated. "Yeah, James. What's up?" Karen rolled her neck around, feeling the strain of such painstaking work. The gloves were good at locating the general location of a fragment, but they still had to be eyeballed to be removed. "It's the bridge, ma'am," the big nurse said. "There's been a fusion pack explosion on the surface and they're requesting additional medical personnel to go with the evac shuttle." "What's triage like right now?" she asked. "Nothing that can't wait. Just some minor lacs and fractures." "Go ahead, Karen," Rafael said. "Nothing else is showing up on scan and I can have this closed in a few minutes with Rosie's help. Right, Rosie?" "Sure, Dr. Vela." "You sure, Rafael?" Karen asked. Her heart beat fast in anticipation of being that close to a real battle. "Go on," he said. "Rosie and I make beautiful music together. Right, Rosie?" the handsome doctor wriggled his eyebrows at the battleaxe scrub nurse. "Sure, Dr. Vela." Her voice was dry as a bone. "Except when you go flat." "Alright, then," Karen said, stepping back from the table. Outside she took off her medical glove and started it through sterilization while she stripped off the barrier gloves and surgical clothing. She put them in the recycler where they would be broken down into their component materials, sterilized, and reconstituted. She grabbed her glove and slipped it back on as she walked swiftly out to the main sick bay. She glanced around as she started grabbing some supplies and adding them to the basics in her bag. A couple of patients, but nothing Rafael would need help with. He'd be alright, as long as there wasn't another bad hit like the fusion pack explosion. "Let's go, James," she said. He nodded and slung his own pack over his shoulders. Karen noticed the blaster strapped to his leg and looked up at him with an arched brow. "Just in case," he said. Together they trotted down the corridor toward the launch bay. "There you are." One of the many people bustling around the evac shuttle turned and tossed a couple of environment suits at them. "Here, put these on," he said. "And we're not going to be pressurized on the first leg of this run so you might want to grab some helmets on the way. Move it, we're on a time-table." Karen slipped on the protective gear, checking the battery pack that supplied the suit's thermoregulatory and air circulation systems. She and James helped each other seal their helmets and she felt a thin layer of air spring to life in her suit. "Right this way, ma'am," the man said, gesturing them toward the open doors of the shuttle. "Watch your step." He made them both pause while he checked their seals, then led them inside. "Stow your gear there, and have a seat." Karen slipped her bag into the holding bin and sat gingerly down on one of the padded bucket seats that lined the bulkhead. "I'm co-pilot and gunner Lt. (jg) Gerald and that's our pilot Lt. Wilson over there," he gestured toward another young man climbing up into the cockpit. "We're both licensed med-techs as well." Wilson waved at her and grinned. "Get ready for the ride of your life," he called down to them. Karen felt a sinking sensation. She smiled weakly at him, then gasped as Lt. Gerald pulled the harness straps tight over her body. "Sorry, ma'am," he said, "but you'll be glad for it once we start evasive maneuvers. When we land, pull these releases here, here, and here to remove the harness." He pointed out the releases to her and she studied them a moment, making sure she knew what to pull where. He slapped the top of her helmet lightly. "Good to go?" Karen nodded and concentrated on her breathing. She looked around the shuttle while Lt. Gerald repeated the process for James. The cockpit was elevated up, on top of the bulk of the powerpack for the main guns located beneath the shuttle's nose. The rest of the shuttle was lined with crash seats, each equipped with a harness. Studs dotted the spacious empty area in the middle of the deck. "What are those for?" she asked. Gerald glanced over his shoulder as he gave a last tug to James' harness. "That's what we use to strap down the litters," he said. He slapped James on his helmet. "Good to go?" James grinned and nodded. "Let's rock and roll," he said, jumping up into the cockpit and strapping in. Wilson gunned the engines and the shuttle began to vibrate with power. Karen felt her ears popping and her suit fill slightly as the launch bay depressurized. She couldn't see it, but she could imagine the hanger bay doors opening before them. She felt the deeper throb as Wilson lifted the shuttle off its landing gear and eased it out of the hanger. She swallowed and swallowed as they left the artificial gravity field generated by the Normandy. "Hang on back there," Wilson's voice was transmitted through the comlink in their helmets. "It's about to get fun." Karen felt herself thrown against the harness as the shuttle leapt forward. She began to have serious second thoughts about the wisdom of going on this mission. "I'm having second thoughts about this." Tom Jose stood with his XO and looked out over the moonscape before them. "It's too open, too quiet." The rocky surface stretched out before them, its harsh whiteness softened by the night. Ambient starlight illuminated the terrain somewhat, augmented by the computerized enhancement provided by their battle helmets. Crow looked around, scanning for any signs of pirate activity. Behind them the rest of the Sierra-Three platoon stood guard over their fallen comrades from Baker-Two. A few of the Baker-Two jumptroopers were helping stand guard despite their injuries, but many had more serious problems. Then there were the litters of dead. "I don't see anything, Captain," Crow said. "They're there," Tom replied. "I can feel it." He turned back to the platoon. "Preston, you and Ramirez take the wash to the west. Dagger and Unholy, take the east. See if you can sniff out any pirate stench." "You got it," Robert said. He and Fred Ramirez slipped silently out of camp, using their jumppacks very sparingly. Fred followed the corporal down into the wash, keeping one eye on the terrain and one on his scanner. With an ambient temperature of about -200 C, the moonscape appeared deepest blue. Fred could see an eerie red ghostly image following Robert as his body warmed the air immediately surrounding him. He could also follow a faint trail of footsteps back the way they came, fading rapidly in the cold. Leon, more commonly known as Unholy, picked his way carefully down the ridge to the east. Behind him Dirk Dagger was using the motion detector and infrared scanner to look for pirates. Leon's surgically altered eyes were widely dilated, doing their best to make up for allowing less light to penetrate the iris. His enhancement served him better in flash conditions, when he was less likely to be momentarily blinded by bright lights than non-altered humans. Fortunately he had learned to compensate for his disadvantage in low-light situations by relying more on his other senses. "Unholy," Dirk whispered in his ear. Leon found it amusing how people always whispered when they were trying to be quiet, despite private comm channels and the fact that their voices couldn't be heard more than a few inches outside their helmets in this low atmosphere. "I've got something on infrared." Leon stopped and backed up next to Dirk where he stood intently reading the scanner. "Over there, about 10 o'clock." Leon looked at the scanner, noting the faint red smudge tainting a rock surface. He glanced up at the rock itself. He snapped his binocular lenses down into place but couldn't see anything. "Still there?" he asked. "Yeah, but it's fading." "Alright, so somebody's been in the area with a heat source and put it down on that rock. Not too long ago, too." He keyed into the officer's channel. "Captain, we have possible hostiles in the area, about half a klick to the northeast from your position." "Preston, are you and Ramirez picking anything up?" Tom asked. "No, sir. Clean as a whistle over here. No sign of nothin' except us." "Then go ahead, but keep your asses down and your eyes peeled." "Roger that, Captain." "Sierra-Three, this is the evac shuttle Glory. Closing in on your coordinates with additional medical personnel on board. ETA three minutes." "Good to hear your sweet voice, Glory," Tom said. "Be advised that there are possible hostiles in the area. Proceed with caution." "Acknowledged. Glory out." "Should we start moving the wounded, Captain?" Crow asked. "Or stay here in better position in case of attack?" Tom stared out over the rocky area below them. "Well, the shuttle sure as hell won't be able to pick 'em up here. Let's get 'em going, but I want everybody to have at least one hand free at all times. We'll make as many trips as we have to." "Yes, sir." While Crow began rounding up the troops Tom watched the night sky, and finally saw the rapidly growing smudge on the starfield that was the evac shuttle. As he watched he saw the braking engines fire, slowing the shuttle's full-tilt run for the moon's surface. From the length of time they blazed, Tom figured the pilot had to be red-lining the g-forces. He hoped the guy got them off this rock just as fast. The shuttle pilot played a good game of chicken, too, pulling up at just the last moment. He settled the vessel down on the surface with something less than a crash but more than a thud. The first wave of jumptroops was moving down off the ridge toward the shuttle when all hell broke loose. Blaster fire erupted all around them, shooting wild all over the place. The ground was rocked by a concussion as a grenade went off somewhere. Jumptroopers scrambled for cover, trying to locate their attackers. Tom crouched down behind a rock, trying to get a fix on the larger blast cannon that was tearing up the rockfield around them. "Sound off, troops, and give me your status," Tom called out over the platoon channel. "Mengele here. I've got Hernandez and Watson with me, both out cold. Can't see much from here." "Unholy and Dagger here. We're both uninjured, and I don't think they know we're here, sir." "Roger that, Unholy," Tom said. "Maintain your position for now, but see if you can help us locate the shooters. Next." "Henderson, sir. I'm alright, and I think I can get a path to that blast cannon." "Go for it," Tom answered, "but keep your tail down, mister. Don't be a hero." "Aye, sir." "Preston, where are you and Fred at?" "Maintaining our last position, sir. Fred and I are okay. Had a scare with some rocks when that grenade went off, but otherwise we don't appear to be targeted." The rest of the squad sounded off in order, with the exception of a few ominous silences. Blaster fire continued unabated around them, kicking up dust and small rocks and obscuring the area with haze. The jumptroops tried to shoot off a few rounds in defense, but after about five minutes Tom ordered them to stop when it became apparent they had no visible targets. "What's your statues, Henderson?" Tom asked. "Almost there, Captain," Will Henderson's voice was muffled, and Tom could here him grunting slightly as he slid along in a low crawl toward the cannon. "No resistance yet, sir." Tom's mind raced furiously as he huddled down behind his cover. Something was wrong with the situation. Besides the fact they were under heavy fire. "Captain, it's Henderson." "Go ahead." "I've reached the cannon, sir. There's nobody here. It's just blasting away on it's own. Can I go see if I can turn it off? "Watch out for booby traps, Henderson." "Yes, sir." It seemed forever before the blast cannon ceased firing. Since it wasn't accompanied by an explosion, Tom figured Henderson had avoided any booby traps. "Henderson, sir. Looks like it was set on automatic with a variable firing pattern. It's jury-rigged six ways from Sunday and running off an old battery pack. Would have run out of juice in about another ten minutes anyway." Tom cursed. Light blaster fire continued to pepper the ground around them. "Alright, let's identify the rest of those blasters and disarm them. Approach with caution and for God's sake watch for booby traps." "I don't get it, sir? What's going on?" Henderson asked. "It was a distraction, private. The pirates aren't even here." "Then where are they, Captain?" Tom looked over at the evac shuttle. "You don't want to know, son." ------------------ continued with part 4