Trust Me

by Alcuin Fromm

Table of Contents

Table of Contents
parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Trust Me: synopsis

In an interstellar war between an empire and rebels, two brothers are on the bridge of the war vessel Storna: Dallor is the captain, and Lemm is the communications officer. In the midst of a desperate battle, they receive a warning message from their father. To take action in response to the warning, Lemm will need the indispensable expertise of a close friend, one that is known to him alone.

Part 6: conclusion

The sound of the cabin doors hissing open seemed deafening in Lemm’s ears. He took a nervous breath and poked out his head cautiously. Seeing no one, he stepped out into the corridor.

He moved at a half-trot, sliding his back against the wall until he realized how ridiculous that was. Slinking around would not hide him from anyone. He pricked up his ears and kept his eyes constantly scanning, frequently glancing behind him.

The ship was deathly quiet and eerily empty, but he knew he was not alone. Besides Boothe and the seven escaped convicts, there had to be at least a handful of other mutineers from the Huntress.

He went to the evacuation shuttle bay. If the Huntress was like the Storna, he thought, there should be a chamber nearby with emergency pressure suits. To his relief, Lemm found the room and began suiting up. He was halfway through the process, becoming more and more anxious as he struggled to peel on the tight-fitting material, when Nickel’s voice came over his earpiece.

“I do not wish to alarm you, sir, but the plasma core explosion is now an estimated eight minutes away.”

Lemm’s impatience turned to panic, but the more he hurried, the more his hands shook and his fingers slipped. Taking a deep breath, he refocused his energy to finish suiting up as calmly as possible. When it was finally done, he attached an oxygen tank to his back, checked the suit’s electronic system, and left the chamber with a helmet tucked under his arm.

The plasma core coolant tank was located on Subdeck Three. Lemm realized with a stab of fear that he would have to cross a portion of the engineering deck to get to the ladders that accessed to the subdecks. He hazarded an extra half-minute to go to the aft elevator, which would put him closer to the subdeck ladders.

Lemm slammed the panel and fidgeted with his helmet as he descended in the elevator. He tapped his foot and looked all around the tiny chamber, as if he could find something to calm the apprehension roiling in his chest. A pleasant note sang from a speaker and the door slid open.

He saw no one. Lemm could hear the high whine of the ship’s plasma core which sounded clearly different from its normal deep pulsing. The computer was not reporting the overheating core, but the physical reality was very different. As long as everyone was on the bridge, no one should notice until it was too late.

He took a few hesitant steps into the engineering area and scanned all around. He still saw no one. Lemm made a break for the access ladders on the far end of the room, weaving between structural beams and technical stations.

He got halfway to his goal before he had to stop suddenly. He saw a man standing with his back to him, staring down at a datapad. The man wore the one-piece suit of a prisoner. Lemm continued in a rapid tip-toe, praying he could get to the ladders before the man turned around. In that moment, both Lemm’s earpiece and the man’s datapad blurted out the same sound.

“ISS Huntress, this is Vice-Admiral Oorin, acting commanding officer on Vall Station,” said a voice over both the earpiece and the datapad, creating an echo effect. “You are ordered to reduce velocity to point one-five and make contact immediately.”

Lemm froze and the man spun around at the sound of the echo. They stared at each other for a dazed moment before Lemm, in unthinking panic, yelled out, “Im ran nethrilli!”

The man blinked twice in confusion before responding, “Im ran nethrilli. Who are you?”

“Make no response,” said Boothe over the earpiece and the datapad. “Decrease velocity to point three-five. That ought to confuse them even more. Stand by to arm missiles.”

Lemm’s knees began to tremble.

“I am Revolutionary soldier Nickel” — he said in near-hallucinatory anxiety — “of this ship. I’m part of the... the whole thing. On this end of the... Revolution. The Welder wants everyone on the bridge to witness the glorious destruction of the oppressor’s butcher shop. Go now. I’ll be right there.”

The man nodded uncertainly and furrowed his brow. “Are you an engineer, by any chance? I’m not a professional, but something seems odd about the plasma core. My datapad is not registering anything, but—”

“Now is not the time for diagnostics and quality reports! The Revolution is about to strike a blow to the wielders of power. Join us, Revolutionary, and see what future generations will immortalize in triumphant song!”

Lemm had no idea what he was saying. His stomach churned and his mouth was so dry he could barely swallow. He could almost feel the missiles firing, he could almost sense the plasma core exploding. His nerves were taught and ready to snap.

“Yes, but I think—”

“Im ran nethrilli! Im ran nethrilli! Im ran nethrilli!”

“Im ran nethrilli!” responded the man.

“Now, go! To glory! To victory!” Lemm stabbed his arm toward the elevator.

The man, swept up in Lemm’s revolutionary zeal, turned and trotted to the elevators. Lemm sprinted to the ladders. He descended clumsily, still holding his helmet in one hand, and jumped the last dozen rungs to the metal floor. A giant, rectangular structure loomed over him, rising to the ceiling.

“I am thoroughly offended that you associated my name with the Revolution, sir,” said Nickel over the earpiece.

“I was panicking, all right?! I didn’t have time to come up with anything clever.”

Lemm fastened on his helmet, started the oxygen flow, and stared up at the huge tank.

“How in Creation do I get into that?”

The floor trembled.

“The plasma core is beginning to destabilize, sir. Explosion in less than two minutes. Go to the aft of the tank and there should be a ladder that will allow you to reach the emergency pressure valve.”

Lemm ran around the tank and found the ladder. He began scurrying up, his feet slipping every few rungs due to the bulky boots of his suit. Once he reached the top, Lemm saw what appeared to be a small access door.

“I’m there, now what?”

“Very good, sir. Move out of the way of the hatch. I will have to ignite the emergency explosive bolts to remove it. Please keep your head down and hold on.”

Lemm descended a few rungs and ducked just before the metal door vibrated violently and flew off the tank. Immediately, a torrent of blue fluid gushed from the opened vent.

“You need to enter the tank now, sir. Explosion in less than one minute.”

“Arm all missiles! Increase to attack speed!” yelled Boothe.

“Aye!”

Lemm clung to the slippery ladder rungs, gripping the slick metal with every bit of strength he had. His suit began screaming warnings as the toxic fluid poured over him. He thrust his hand through the current and hooked his arm around the bottom of the opened hatch. Summoning all his strength and impelled by sheer terror, he hauled himself up into the stream and forced his way head-first into the tank.

Halfway inside, with his legs still dangling in the air and his whole weight resting on his waist, he made a final, desperate flop forward and descended into the blackness.

“I need to expel the coolant right now, sir. Are you—”

“Go, go, go! I’ll never forget you, Nicky!”

“Thank you, sir.”

The tug of the fluid pulling Lemm towards the hatch suddenly stopped and he felt a new sensation, as if a giant hand had grabbed hold of him and yanked him downwards with tremendous force. Spinning and swirling in total darkness, he had no sense of direction or orientation. Lemm slammed against what must have been the side of the tank and then the rushing fluid pulled him farther down, propelling him against a different wall. His arm struck the corner of something, forcing the limb up above his head. From all sides he felt walls hem him in. His mind reeled and he was seized by claustrophobic terror.

“Missiles armed, sir.”

“Weapons lock. Prepare to fire!”

“Aye, sir. Im ran nethrilli!”

“Im ran nethrilli!”

“Fire on my mark! Three...”

“Core explosion in T-minus three...”

Lemm twisted and bounced down a constricting conduit, barely larger than himself, bumping back and forth against the walls. The fluid rushed all around him, but he felt himself moving slower and slower. Suddenly he stopped altogether, lodged in the pipe.

“Two...”

He thrashed and flailed his arms, trying desperately to make progress down the tube. Slapping his hands against the narrow walls he squirmed and pushed with all his might to slide himself forward, his hands constantly slipping.

“One...”

Suddenly the pipe widened and Lemm shot downward. He felt a pressure change as if a thousand fists struck him simultaneously from all directions.

“Fire!”

“Goodbye, sir.”

The plasma core of the Huntress exploded, twisting the ship into a corkscrew spin. Dozens of missiles shot off in random directions as the ship spiraled out of control, losing power, computer, and life-support systems simultaneously. Finally, explosions began to puncture the Huntress’s sides as the armed missiles, one after another, blew up in a chain reaction. When the final blast subsided, the darkened hull silently rotated away from Vall Station.

Lemm had quickly stabilized himself with his suit’s minijets after he had emerged cartwheeling out of the Huntress’s coolant valve, pulled at a fantastic velocity out into space and away from the ship. He had watched the entire scene with grim fascination, feeling a mixture of inexpressible relief and terrible loss.

The events aboard the Huntress had not been the mere wages of war, but cold, premeditated acts of treason, deception, and mutiny. His father had been right, but that reality only saddened him as he considered how few people he could trust.

“Nicky was one of them,” he said out loud to himself. “Goodbye, old friend.”

A medical ship flanked by a squadron of fighters launched out of the station and raced towards the wrecked Huntress. Lemm activated the emergency beacon on his suit, knowing he would be on the ship’s scopes in a matter of moments.

He decided to enjoy the moment, and rotated himself with the suit’s jets to face away from the station and towards the vastness of space. Filled again with thankfulness and relief, he closed his eyes and once more offered up those thoughts to the Creator from the bottom of his heart. Then he opened his eyes. He saw the stars, bright and beautiful. And he was alive.