On board a Resistance ship called The Wanderer. Long story. I’m so mentally and physically exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open. Fresno, of course, is passed out on a makeshift bed across the room. No surprise there.After we came out of hyperspace in Atioch, I contacted Pitt to let him know that we failed to deliver the rock. I tried to explain that the circumstances were out of our control, but he cut me off. After calling me a string of expletives that would make a Gnonarian blush, he finally calmed down long enough to tell me that not only were Fresno and I the worst Cargo Runners he had ever worked with, but that if we didn’t return the rock to Tanar within 72 hours, he would personally see to it that we would never work in the galaxy again. He ended the conversation by saying that if even one molecule of the shipment was missing we’d wish we had never heard the name Pitt Crater.
What a lousy bastard. We risked our lives to deliver that shipment. And now, because of one minor oversight (okay, maybe not so minor), he’s essentially threatened to blacklist us. Working for my father is looking better by the minute.
Once Pitt disconnected, I filled Fresno in on the conversation. Fresno listened, but didn’t reply. He just sat staring at the tele-portal. I knew he was still upset with me, so I left him alone and went back up to the cockpit. A few minutes passed when suddenly the cockpit warning alarm sounded. I pulled down the local radar and saw two white dots approaching fast. I realized that the two NightHawks that had chased us from Alcira had somehow stayed close enough to us in the asteroid field to mimic our course. I yelled to Fresno that the NightHawks had found us, and to grab a gun. And, for the first time since the argument, he actually responded to something I said. In seconds, Fresno was in the gunner’s seat getting a lock on the approaching Hawks. I quickly shifted the ship into drive, but nothing happened. We were out of fuel. The jump to Antioch must have drained whatever gas we had in the tanks, and we were now floating helplessly. So I did the only thing I could do -- I set the shields to full, and yelled to Fresno to blast those scummers out of the sky.
The NightHawks immediately began to blast the ship from all angles. The Jackyl shook violently with each impact, and I was tossed from either side of the small hallway as I made my way to the second gunner’s seat. One blast nearly tipped the ship over. I stumbled into the gunner’s seat, strapped myself in clumsily, and immediately began firing. “Try and keep’em from getting a clean shot!” I yelled to Fresno. At that moment, one of the NightHawks dropped a volley of shots on the Jackyl from overhead, and turned to come back around for another pass. Fresno seized the opportunity. His next shot clipped the NightHawk’s wing as it turned, and it exploded into oblivion. We both cheered, but it was short lived.
The second NightHawk now blasted us. The Jackyl rocked again, but this time all of the console lights flickered and dimmed. Then the cockpit went dark, leaving the holo-maps in our gunner pits as the only source of light inside the ship. Fresno yelled that the shields were out. We were left with only one option – destroy the NightHawk before it destroyed us. Fresno and I aimed our guns at the approaching ship and blasted away in unison until our guns clicked empty. The NightHawk easily outmaneuvered our shots and came around for a final, fatal shot. I couldn’t speak. Fresno could only cover his eyes. A single red light blinked dimly on the dashboard. The NightHawk had a lock on us and there was nothing we could do about it.
Suddenly, the NightHawk burst into flames, tumbling out of sight before exploding in a massive fireball. Fresno uncovered his eyes and asked me what had just happened, but I could only shrug.
The comm then lit up. Fresno and I could barely understand the voice through the static. “Prepare to be brought aboard,” the garbled voice said. I wasn’t sure where the ship that had saved us came from, but I wasn’t about to question our good fortune. I pushed a button and powered down the Jackyl’s remaining systems (well, what was left of them, anyway). We were now in total darkness. Neither one of us spoke for a long time. Finally, I apologized to Fresno for getting us into this mess, and he apologized for telling me to go to hell.
After a few moments, the Jackly shook slightly as an unseen force pulled us upward. Even in the dark, I could feel Fresno’s uneasiness. I’m sure he could feel mine, too. Took about 5 minutes to bring us aboard. I waited until I was sure the ship was firmly settled before I popped the Jackyl’s side hatch. I stuck my head out and looked around. We were in a large hangar bay, littered with ships of all shapes and sizes. I could see people rushing all over the place – repairing ships, transporting parts, and shouting orders to each other. It was organized chaos. Whoever these folks were, however, they didn’t appear to be hostile. Busy as hell. But not hostile.
I ducked back into the Jackyl and motioned for Fresno to follow me out. Fresno and I then exited the ship, arms raised, sure to not make any sudden movements. Neither of us knew who we were dealing with and we thought it best to play it safe until we did. We were immediately greeted by a rag-tag bunch of uniformed officers, led by a tall, gray-haired man. A handful of armed grunts stood behind them, guns pointed at our chests. Before anyone spoke, one of the grunts stepped forward and apprehended our weapons.
“I’m sorry, but we can’t be too cautious,” the gray-haired man said. He introduced himself as General Mavus Wayland, and at that point informed us we were aboard the Resistance ship, The Wanderer. Turns out The Wanderer was returning home from a diplomatic mission to a planet on the other side of the galaxy when they picked us up on their radar and came out of hyperspace just in time to blast that NightHawk scummer out of the sky.
Wayland proceeded to lead us to a makeshift interrogation area above the hangar bay, while his crew inspected our ship. Once we were settled, Fresno and I explained to Wayland who we were, and what our current situation was. I told him we had less than 72 hours to get the Crescent Rock back to Tanar, or Pitt would have our heads. There was nothing to stop Wayland from confiscating the rock, and quite honestly I’m surprised he didn’t. I think Wayland sensed that regardless of our cargo, we weren’t a threat (I’m sure it also helped that the scan of our ship found nothing that was cause for any concern), so he agreed to let us stay on board and fix up the Jackyl. He told us that we’d be at the Resistance command ship in a few hours, and that we were free to relax in one of the guest quarters until then.
Based on our conversation with Wayland, it seems the Resistance formed roughly 10 years ago, shortly after the Dominion rose to power on Alcira. Wayland himself was a General in the Alciran Army at one point. However, once the Alciran Army collapsed, and the Dominion gained power, Wayland and a handful of others fled Alcira, and went into hiding deep in the Void. For years they lived as fugitives of the Dominion, working to build an army that could match up with the Dominion Armada. Wayland told us that the Dominion is gaining more ground by the day, and that it’s only a matter of time before they control the outer territories, and the Void as well. I can’t help but think of my father, just trying to make an honest living, having to give the bulk of his hard-earned money to the Dominion or risk being imprisoned, shot, or worse. It scares me to think that the only thing standing between the Dominion and the Void is this bunch of outcasts.
It’s late, but no one is sleeping – except Fresno, of course. It seems the activity on the ship never stops. It’s like a big, steel hive. I, on the other hand, have no energy left. The last few days have been mentally and physically exhausting, to say the least.
I should probably get some sleep before we get to the Resistance base. Something tells me tomorrow’s going to be a long day.
- Col
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