science-fiction – ToBeLikeJesus

The Calling – Chapter 32 – Mining the Conspiracy

“The getting of treasures by a lying tongue is a fleeting vapor and a snare of death.”

Proverbs 21:6

Intelligence Treasure Trove

The Stellar Scout hung like a wraith amid the shattered husks of the debris field, its matte-black stealth coating drinking in the feeble starlight that dared to pierce this desolate reach of the galaxy. The twisted remnants of forgotten battles drifted lazily past, jagged silhouettes against the faint shimmer of a distant nebula. Inside the cramped command deck, the air buzzed with the hum of electronics and the unspoken tension of a crew teetering on the edge of a decision that could ripple through the war-torn stars.

Wade hunched over the tactical display, his synthetic fingers dancing across the controls as he fine-tuned the feed. The holographic projection flickered, then stabilized, revealing the Skravak repair base in all its menacing glory—a grotesque lattice of alien metallurgy, half-entombed in the skeletal remains of derelict hulks. Its spires jutted like claws, grasping at the void, and Wade’s gut tightened at the sight. He’d seen Skravak outposts before, but this one felt… wrong. Too quiet. Too deliberate.

“Movement detected,” Mayumi’s voice sliced through the stillness, sharp and precise as a laser scalpel. She leaned forward in her sensor station, her almond eyes narrowing as she parsed the incoming data. “The Transapora is pulling into dock.”

Every head snapped to the main viewscreen, the Confederation freighter filled the display, its massive, utilitarian bulk a stark contrast to the predatory elegance of the Skravak base. The Transapora was a leviathan of commerce—blocky, unlovely, and painted in the muted grays of the Confederation Merchant Fleet—yet here it was, gliding toward the alien dock with a grace that belied its tonnage. Its running lights blinked in slow, methodical patterns, and the faint shimmer of its maneuvering thrusters cast ghostly reflections off the surrounding debris.

“They’re taking on fuel,” Jay muttered, his fingers hovering over the helm controls like a pianist poised for a crescendo. His brow creased as he studied the freighter’s approach vector. “But why here? Why now? This isn’t some backwater refueling stop.”

Wade’s mind churned, a storm of possibilities battering his thoughts. He straightened, his broad shoulders squaring as he turned to face his crew. “We’ve got a choice to make,” he said, his baritone steady but edged with steel. “The destroyer’s still out there, prowling the perimeter. We could follow it when it breaks orbit—stick to the original plan. Or…” He gestured toward the Transapora on the screen. “We shadow that freighter and figure out what in the world it’s doing cozying up to the Skravak.”

Kristen crossed her arms, her lean frame taut with unease as she studied the image. Her dark eyes flicked from the freighter to the alien base and back again, her lips pressing into a thin line. “A Confederation freighter this far out raises too many questions,” she said, her voice low and measured. “The destroyer’s just doing its job—patrolling, sniffing for trouble. But that ship…” She shook her head, a strand of black hair escaping her tight bun. “It’s not supposed to be here. No trade routes, no resupply lanes, nothing. What’s it hauling in Skravak space?”

“Exactly,” Wade agreed, his gaze locking with hers. “The destroyer’s a known quantity—Skravak muscle flexing for the sector. But the Transapora? That’s a wild card. It might lead us to something bigger—supply lines, black-market deals, maybe even a traitor in the Confederation ranks.”

Mayumi swiveled her chair to face them, her fingers still poised over her console. “If we’re going to Command with this, we need more than a hunch,” she cautioned, her tone clipped but not dismissive. “Intel has to be actionable—timely and accurate—or it’s just noise. Following the Transapora could give us the meat we need, but it’s a gamble. We lose the destroyer, and we might miss a tactical shift in their patrol patterns.”

Jay snorted, leaning back in his seat with a wry grin. “Yeah, and if we stick with the destroyer, we might just end up chasing our tails while that freighter waltzes off with the real prize. I say we take the shot—follow the Transapora. My gut’s screaming there’s more to this than fuel cells and spare parts.”

“Your gut’s been almost always right,” Kristen affirmed, though her tone encouraging. She tapped a finger against her forearm, her mind clearly racing. “Still… you can see how neat this feels. A Confederation ship docking with the Skravak like it’s a scheduled pit stop? That’s not sloppy smuggling—that’s coordination.”

Wade nodded, his jaw tightening. “Then we’re agreed. The Transapora’s our mark. Mayumi, prep an intel burst for Command—everything we’ve got so far. Skravak base coordinates, the freighter’s ID, docking timestamp, the works. Flag it priority alpha—Command needs to know what we’re chasing and why.”

Mayumi’s hands flew across her console, her movements a blur of efficiency. “Composing now,” she said, her voice tight with focus. “Skravak repair base at grid Zulu-Niner-Four, confirmed active. Confederation freighter Transapora, registry CFM-4472, docked at 0317 hours galactic standard. Observed fueling operation, no visible escort. Intent to pursue and report further findings.” She paused, glancing up at Wade. “Adding our positional data and a request for backup if this turns hot. Encryption’s set—quantum key’s cycling—but the relay’s going to be dicey this deep in the debris field. We’re relying on the tight-beam buoy at the sector edge, and it’s a long haul to Command.”

“How long?” Wade pressed, his voice betraying a flicker of impatience.

“Best case, eight days,” Mayumi replied, her expression grim. “Worst case, twelve—if the buoy’s compromised or the signal scatters. We’ll be on our own until then.”

“Too long,” Jay muttered, his grin fading. “If that freighter’s carrying what I think it is, twelve days could see it vanish into some Skravak bolt-hole—or worse, link up with a battle group we can’t handle.”

“Then we don’t let it out of our sight,” Wade said firmly, uncrossing his arms and stepping toward the tactical display. “Jay, when she moves plot a shadow course—keep us in their baffles, low-emission profile. We stay ghosts until we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Got it,” Jay replied, his fingers diving into the helm controls. The Stellar Scout’s engines thrummed faintly as he began calculating vectors, threading a needle through the debris field to trail the Transapora without tripping its sensors. “Course laid in—ready to move when she does.”

Wade watched the freighter on the viewscreen, its hull now kissed by the faint blue glow of Skravak fuel conduits snaking into its ports. His pulse quickened, a mix of adrenaline and dread coiling in his chest. “Send the report, Mayumi,” he ordered. “And let’s pray that it hits Command’s desk before this blows up in our faces.”

Mayumi tapped the transmit key, and a faint chirp confirmed the burst had launched into the void. “Sent,” she said, exhaling sharply. “Now we wait—and hope the buoy’s still in one piece.”

The crew fell silent, the weight of their choice settling over them like a shroud. The Transapora loomed on the screen, an enigma wrapped in Confederation colors, and beyond it, the Skravak base pulsed with alien menace. Whatever lay ahead, the Stellar Scout was committed now—adrift in the echoes of the void, chasing shadows that might just lead them to salvation… or doom.

Heading to No Where

Hours bled into one another on the command deck steeped in a silence so thick it seemed to hum against the bulkheads. The crew watched the Transapora with predatory focus, their breaths shallow, their nerves taut as monofilament wire. The Confederation freighter hung in the void, its fueling complete, its hull now sealed and gleaming under the Skravak base’s eerie indigo glow. Then, without warning, its engines flared—a sudden bloom of plasma that lit the debris field like a supernova’s echo. The massive ship pivoted with ponderous grace and surged forward, carving a path through the wreckage.

“She’s moving,” Jay announced, his voice a low growl of anticipation. His hands danced over the helm, coaxing the Stellar Scout from its hiding place among the derelict husks. The scout ship slipped into the freighter’s wake, a shadow trailing its prey, its stealth systems purring as they masked its emissions. “Matching velocity—keeping us in her baffles. They won’t see us unless they’re looking hard.”

“Good,” Wade replied, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen. “Stay sharp. We don’t know where she’s headed—or what’s waiting.”

The Transapora didn’t disappoint. It executed a series of precise hyperspace jumps, each one a calculated plunge into the uncharted abyss beyond Confederation borders. The Stellar Scout followed, its own jump drive whining under the strain as Jay threaded them through the quantum eddies left in the freighter’s wake. With every transition, the stars shifted, their patterns growing stranger, more alien, until the familiar constellations of charted space were little more than a memory. Wade felt the weight of isolation pressing in, a cold hand on the back of his neck. They were far from home now—far from reinforcements, far from anything resembling safety.

Arriving at Answers

At last, the freighter’s final jump spat them out above a planet that looked like a wound in the cosmos. Its surface was a mottled expanse of rust-red and ochre, scarred by swirling dust storms that churned with savage fury. Bands of grayish haze streaked its atmosphere, and jagged peaks thrust upward like the broken teeth of some long-dead beast. The Transapora didn’t hesitate—it angled downward, its descent a pre-programmed ballet of thrusters and stabilizers, cutting through the turbulent skies toward a landing zone lost in the haze.

“Designated KX-19,” Mayumi said, her voice clipped as she pulled up the scant data from the scout’s databanks. “No official Confed record—just a survey marker from a probe flyby decades ago. No life signs detected.” She paused, her fingers hovering over the sensor controls as the readings refined. “But there’s activity down there. Massive energy signatures—thermal plumes, electromagnetic spikes. It’s… mining operations, but on a scale I’ve never seen. And it’s all automated. AI-driven, no biological signatures anywhere.”

Wade’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching beneath his stubble. “AI mining on an uncharted rock, serviced by a Confed freighter in Skravak space? That’s not a coincidence—it’s part of the conspiracy, I’m sure of it.” He turned to his crew, his decision crystallizing. “We need eyes on the ground. Jay, prep the Badger for drop. Kristen, you’re with me. Mayumi, take us down within ten clicks from the nearest structure to drop the Badger, keep low and bring the Scout back to low orbit—watch the Transapora and scream if anything changes.”

“Badger’s hot in five,” Jay said, already unstrapping from his seat and heading for the shuttle bay. “I’ll get you all close enough to read serial numbers—assuming I don’t have too much fun gettin’ you there.”

Kristen shot him a dry look as she grabbed her gear. “Try not to. I’d hate to walk back.”

The descent through KX-19’s atmosphere was a brutal gauntlet. The Badger—a squat, armored hovercraft built for punishment—shuddered as Jay punched the accelerator and it shot off the back ramp of the Scout into roiling clouds of rust-colored dust. Winds howled against its hull, clawing at the stabilizers, but Jay’s hands were steady on the controls, his piloting a masterclass in precision. Wade gripped the co-pilot’s chair, his stomach lurching as the craft bucked, while Kristen braced herself in the troop bay, her rifle already slung across her chest. The viewscreen flickered with static, then cleared as they broke through the storm layer, revealing the structures ahead.

It was a mechanical cacophony. A sprawling network of drills, conveyors, and processing plants stretched to the horizon, their skeletal forms illuminated by the dull red glow of the planet’s sun filtering through the haze. Towering rigs plunged into the earth, their rhythmic hammering a low thunder that vibrated through the Badger’s frame. Conveyor belts snaked across the terrain, ferrying heaps of glittering ore to cyclopean smelters that belched plumes of acrid smoke. Drones flitted through the air—sleek, insect-like machines with no markings, their movements synchronized to a fault. Everything operated with cold, relentless precision, a symphony of automation devoid of a single human hand.

“She touched down two klicks east,” Jay reported, nodding toward the Transapora’s landing site as he eased the Badger into a controlled hover. The freighter squatted amid the chaos, its cargo bay yawning open as a swarm of loader drones began unloading crates stamped with Confederation seals. “Looks like she’s offloading fast—whatever they’re hauling, they don’t want it sitting long.”

Wade’s eyes narrowed as he studied the scene. “Ore’s one thing, but those crates… that’s not raw material. That’s processed—maybe weapons-grade.” He unbuckled his harness and stood, his voice hardening. “Take us behind that ridge, Jay. We’re going in close. I want to know what the Skravak and the Confed are cooking up down here—and why it’s worth hiding from the galaxy.”

Jay grinned, a flash of teeth against his dark skin. “On it boss.” The Badger skimmed the terrain until it settled behind a jagged outcrop of rock, its engines winding down to a whisper. Dust swirled around them, settling slowly in the thin atmosphere as the hatch hissed open.

Wade was first out, his boots crunching against the gritty soil as he swept the area with his rifle’s scope. “Clear,” he called, his voice coming across the comms in Kristen’s helmet. “But stay low—these drones might not care about us, but I’d rather not test their programming.”

Kristen followed, her own weapon at the ready, her gaze locked on the distant Transapora. Beyond the freighter, the mining complex pulsed with activity, its AI overseers oblivious—or indifferent—to the intruders in their midst. Whatever secrets this planet held, they were buried deep in that ore—and in the shadowed alliance that had brought a Confederation ship to this forsaken rock. The Stellar Scout’s crew had chased the Transapora this far; now, it was time to peel back the void’s veil and see what lay beneath.

Kristen crouched low behind a rusted ore hauler, her scanner humming softly as it drank in the machine’s secrets. “This tech,” she said, her voice a mix of awe and unease, “it’s Confederation-derived, no question. But it’s… mutated. The servos, the power grid—it’s like it’s been rewriting itself for decades, adapting to this dust-choked rock without a human hand to guide it.” Her fingers traced the air above the hauler’s hull, following the faint glow of her holo-display as it mapped the machine’s innards: a lattice of self-repairing circuits and fractal energy conduits that no sane engineer would’ve dreamed up.

Wade grunted, his eyes narrow as he swept his pulse rifle’s scope across the barren landscape. The mining facility sprawled before them like a mechanical cancer—towering smelters belching plumes of ash, conveyors grinding endlessly under their own inscrutable logic, and skeletal cranes clawing at the sky. “No human’s ever set foot here,” he muttered, his voice taut with the certainty of a man who’d seen these things before. “This is all automated. A ghost op running on borrowed time and stolen blueprints. Whoever—whatever—built this didn’t want us poking around.”

Compromised

Before Kristen could reply, a piercing wail shredded the stillness—an alarm, sharp and synthetic, rising from the facility’s core like the scream of a wounded beast. Wade’s comm crackled to life, Mayumi’s voice cutting through the static: “Skravak sentinel drones incoming! Multiple contacts—bearing two-seven-zero, closing fast!”

Wade snapped his rifle to his shoulder, his posture shifting from wary observer to predator in an instant. “Back to the Badger!” he roared, his boots kicking up clouds of reddish dust as he broke into a sprint. Kristen fell in beside him, she dropped her scanner to dangle on a short lanyard as she drew her sidearm—a compact plasma pistol that whined as it charged. Sleek, predatory shapes breached the horizon: Skravak mech drones, their hulls glinting like obsidian under the weak sun, their weapon ports already glowing with the promise of death.

The air ignited with the hiss and snap of plasma bolts, each shot a streak of violet fire that seared the ground where they’d stood moments before. One bolt grazed a nearby hauler, slagging its flank into molten ruin; another punched a fist-sized hole through a conveyor strut, sending sparks cascading like a meteor shower. Wade fired on the move, his pulse rifle barking in controlled bursts—each shot a pinpoint of blue-white energy that splashed harmlessly against the drones’ shields. “What?” he snarled under his breath. “Didn’t even scratch it!”

They dove into the Badger’s hatch, the air thrumming with the basso growl of its engines. Jay had the ship prepped and roaring. “Go, go, go!” Wade bellowed, slamming the hatch control. The Badger lurched forward with a bone-rattling shudder, its thrusters screaming as Jay poured every ounce of power weaving in between mining apparatus to throw the drones off.

They swarmed after them, a pack of mechanical wolves nipping at their heels. Their weapons fire stitched a deadly pattern across the Badger’s hull—plasma rounds and kinetic penetrators leaving blackened scars and hairline fractures in the ceramsteel plating. Jay threw the ship into a series of gut-churning evasions, banking hard and spiraling through the thinning dusty surface like a madman dancing on a razor’s edge. A drone’s missile streaked past, detonating in a fireball that rocked the Badger and sent a cascade of warning icons across the cockpit displays.

“They’re too fast!” Kristen shouted, bracing herself against a bulkhead as the deck bucked beneath her. “We can’t shake them!”

Wade stabbed a finger at the comm panel, his voice a whipcrack of command. “Mayumi! We need extraction—now!”

The Stellar Scout’s reply was immediate—a shadow falling across the sky as the larger ship dropped from its overwatch orbit, its hull scarred but unbowed one foot off the ground. The back ramp yawned open like the maw of some ancient leviathan, a beacon of salvation amid the chaos. Jay’s hands gripped over the controls, his jaw clenched tight as he lined up the approach. “Hold onto something!” he yelled, and then the Badger dove for it, threading a needle no sane pilot would attempt. Metal screamed as the smaller ship grazed the Scout’s bay edges, shedding paint and a shower of sparks before slamming home with a jolt that threw Wade and Kristen to the deck.

Steel Away

The ramp slammed shut, and the Scout’s engines roared to full power, clawing for orbit as the drones peppered its hull with desperate parting shots. Jay found his way to the nav/comms seat and took control of the Scout. Mayumi was only too glad to relinquish command to the superior pilot. Armor plating buckled under the barrage, and a proximity alert wailed as a plasma salvo grazed the starboard nacelle, sending a tremor through the ship’s frame. “Jumping in 3… 2… 1…” Jay called out, his voice steady despite the chaos.

The universe twisted as hyperspace engulfed them, the familiar gut-punch of transition silencing the alarms for a blessed moment. Then reality snapped back, and the command control station glowed an ominous red under emergency lighting. Damage reports scrolled across every screen: hull breaches sealed by auto-foam, power conduits overloaded, and a dozen minor systems flickering on the edge of failure. The Badger, nestled in the Scout’s bay, groaned like a wounded animal, its hull pocked and smoking.

Wade dragged himself to his feet, his breath ragged as he met Kristen’s wide-eyed stare. Sweat streaked her face, and her hand still gripped the plasma pistol like a lifeline. They’d escaped—barely—but the cost was etched in the shuddering deck beneath them and the flickering displays overhead. “What on earth was the Transpora doing there?” Kristen whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of what they’d seen.

Wade shook his head, his mind racing as he stowed his rifle. “Something to do with the conspiracy I’m sure. And the whole planet was…automated. Something similar but beyond our tech. And something that didn’t want us snooping around.” He glanced at the scrolling damage logs, then back at her. “We’ve kicked a hornet’s nest, Kris. Question is, how important is this—and what’s it hiding?”

The adrenaline ebbed, leaving a cold clarity in its wake. They’d survived, but survival was just the opening salvo. Whatever lay buried in that forsaken mining world, it was no mere relic. It was alive, in its own way—and it had secrets that could reshape everything they thought they knew. The real fight, Wade realized, was now assessing the Scout’s flight worthiness and getting the intel back to command.

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

The Calling – Chapter 31: Chariots of Fire

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

“Now when the attendant of the man of God had risen early and gone out, behold, an army with horses and chariots was circling the city. And his servant said to him, “Alas, my master! What shall we do?” So he answered, “Do not fear, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” Then Elisha prayed and said, “O LORD, I pray, open his eyes that he may see.” And the LORD opened the servant’s eyes and he saw; and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha. When they came down to him, Elisha prayed to the LORD and said, “Strike this people with blindness, I pray.” So He struck them with blindness according to the word of Elisha.”

2 Kings 6:15-18

The Hunt Interrupted

The Stellar Scout F290 leapt into hyperspace, its fusion drives humming as it chased The Transapora’s course into the void. Wade Kovacs settled into the navigator’s chair, the glow of the tactical display reflecting in his eyes. Rephidim-5’s red dust and desperate settlers faded into memory, replaced by the weight of Elkiah’s warning—a rogue freighter spiriting ore to unknown ends. The crew buzzed with purpose, their faith bolstered by the fledgling church they’d left behind. Kristen’s quiet prayer lingered in the air, a steady anchor as they plunged deeper into uncharted space. Jay adjusted their course with his usual precision, while Mayumi pored over manifests, hunting for clues in the freighter’s cryptic path. Hours blurred into days, the ship’s rhythm—shifts, drills, scripture—a lifeline against the endless black. They were hunters now, tracking shadows with a higher calling. Exhaustion crept in, and Wade finally surrendered to sleep, trusting Jay’s steady hands at the helm.

The rhythmic hum of the twin engines had lulled Wade into a deep sleep. In his dreams, he was back on Earth, walking through a sun-dappled forest with Kristen by his side, the scent of pine and her laughter filling the air. Suddenly, he was back at Ranger school in a live fire with the Skravaks. He jolted awake as the ship’s warning system sliced through his subconscious like a jagged blade, ripping him from his dreams back to reality.”

Wade’s eyes snapped open, his body tensing as he reached for his data pad beside the bunk. The soft blue lighting of his individual berth had switched to a pulsing red glow, casting eerie shadows across the compact space. The clever storage solutions—recessed shelves and fold-out panels—that usually made the crew quarters feel spacious now seemed to close in around him, the walls vibrating faintly with the ship’s growing urgency.

“Warning. Skravak vessel detected. All personnel report to battle stations immediately,” the ship’s AI announced, its synthetic calm a jarring counterpoint to the chaos bleeding through the hull.

Wade’s heart thudded as he threw off his covers and grabbed his flight suit from the locker. He yanked on his boots, the Skravak name igniting a phantom ache in his titanium hand. His mind lurched back to that day—two years ago, pinned in the waste hatch of a Skravak derelict. He’d been last out, adrenaline pumping after the Argus had been ambushed. The hatch had been their escape, a rusted maw they’d pried open. He could still hear the hiss of his suit sealing, feel the cold metal brushing his glove—then the scream of hydraulics as the AI rebooted. The hatch slammed shut, shearing through flesh and bone, his arm a mangled ruin spurting crimson into the void. Jay’s hands had clamped his sleeve, Bikram’s desperate blow severing the last threads, the shuttle’s corpsmen a blur as the freighter exploded behind them. That day, vengeance had burned in him—a Ranger’s rage at the Skravaks’ cold efficiency. Now, as the destroyer closed in, fear clawed at that old wound—not for himself, but for Kristen, Jay, Mayumi. What if he lost them to this unforgiving enemy? The blare of the ship’s alarm snapped him back to the present.

Red Alert Rising

“How close?” he barked at the AI, his voice rough with sleep and adrenaline.

“Skravak vessel is approximately 50,000 kilometers and closing rapidly,” the AI replied, its tone maddeningly even.

He stumbled into the narrow corridor, nearly colliding with Kristen, who clutched her medical kit with white-knuckled hands. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly, her hazel eyes sharp despite the tension etched into her posture. “CCS?” she said, using the military shorthand for the Central Command Station. Wade nodded, and they sprinted down the passage, boots clanging against the metal deck.

The CCS door hissed open, revealing a scene of controlled pandemonium. Jay Ringler hunched over the pilot’s station, his wiry frame taut as his hands darted across the controls, adjusting thruster outputs with practiced precision. Mayumi Ringler sat in the nav/comms seat, her face illuminated by the flickering light of holographic displays, her fingers a blur as she parsed incoming data. The cockpit’s tight, two-person configuration kept everything within arm’s reach—just as Lieutenant Commander Goering had promised during their grueling training sims back at Command.

“Status report,” Wade demanded, bracing himself against the bulkhead as the ship shuddered faintly—likely Jay tweaking their course.

“Skravak destroyer on an intercept course,” Jay said, eyes locked on his screen, his voice clipped but steady. “It’s taken a beating already—sensor array’s partially fried, probably from a recent scrap. Closing fast, though.”

Wade leaned over the tactical display, its 3D projection between Jay and Mayumi painting the enemy ship in stark reds and oranges—a hulking, predatory silhouette bristling with weapon ports. “How bad’s the damage?”

“Their long-range active scans are crippled,” Mayumi said, her Japanese accent sharpening as she focused. Her fingers danced over the interface, pulling up a diagnostic overlay. “They’re leaning hard on passive sensors and visuals—closing in to compensate for the blind spots.”

Wade’s mind raced, snagging on a memory from high school history class—old submarine tactics, vessels lurking silent on the ocean floor while destroyers rained depth charges from above. A flicker of an idea took root. “Jay, how’s our EMP capacitor?”

Jay glanced up, a spark of realization in his hazel eyes. “Fully charged—been sitting at max since our last resupply. You thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

Wade’s lips curled into a grim smile. “We hit them with an EMP, drop to that planet’s surface”—he jabbed a finger at a rocky, storm-lashed world spinning slowly on the display—”deploy decoys, and go dark. Like subs in the old wars, waiting out the hunters.”

Faith vs Flight

“EMP, decoys, and hide?” Jay spun in his seat, hazel eyes narrowing. “We’ve got hyperspace juice—why not jump now, outrun them?” His fingers hovered over the controls, itching to act.

“Submarines?” Kristen asked, arching an eyebrow as she slung her med kit over her shoulder.

“Read about it in school.” Wade said, the memory sharpening. “They’d sink to the bottom, kill all systems but the bare minimum, and sit tight while the enemy pounded the water. If the Skravaks think we’re slag, they might leave—or better yet, lead us somewhere useful.”

Mayumi’s head snapped up from her console. “Their intercept speed’s too high—43,000 klicks and closing. They’d catch us mid-jump, shred us before we’re gone.”

Kristen frowned, slinging her med kit tighter. “What about a distress call? Command could scramble backup—we’re not equipped for this.”

Wade’s jaw tightened, Elkiah’s datapad flashing in his mind—rogue ore shipments, shadows in the void. “No signal,” he said. “We’re too deep, and this ties to The Transapora. We run, we lose the lead. We fight smart instead.” He tapped the display, the planet’s storms swirling below. “EMP blinds them and then we drop, go dark. Old sub tactics and we’ll outlast the hunter.”

Jay scoffed, tension cracking his bravado. “Your history hunch better pan out, boss. One pulse misfire, we’re toast.”

“More are with us than with them,” Wade shot back, voice steady, echoing 2 Kings 6:16. “We’ve got the edge—faith and tech. They’re crippled already.”

Mayumi nodded, numbers aligning in her head. “Their sensors are shaky—an EMP could finish them.”

Kristen exhaled. “Risky, but I’m in. Let’s move.”

Wade met their eyes—doubt lingered, but trust won. “Then let’s hit it.”

Mayumi nodded, her analytical mind already running the numbers. “They’d have to get close to confirm a kill—real close.”

“And if we tail them after,” Jay added, his hands hovering over the controls, “we might track them to a repair base. That destroyer’s too busted to limp far without a dock. We turn this into a recon goldmine.”

“Exactly,” Wade said, adrenaline surging. “What’ve we got for decoys?”

Mayumi tapped her console, pulling up the cargo manifest. “Spare parts—engine coils, hull plating—plus empty specimen containers and that busted sensor buoy we were hauling back to base. I can rig them to mimic our EM and heat signatures.”

“Do it,” Wade ordered. “Jay, plot a descent to the planet—low and fast, use the terrain. Kristen, prep the EMP burst—wide dispersal, max yield. Mayumi, get those decoys into the launch bay. We’ve got one shot before they’re on us.”

The next fifteen minutes dissolved into a frantic symphony of motion. Kristen knelt at the panel, hands steady as she rerouted power to the EMP capacitor. She wasn’t just the Scout’s medic anymore—necessity had forged her into its engineer too, a prodigy’s mind bending to the ship’s demands. Back on New Annapolis, her photographic memory had stunned Psych-school profs; she’d recite textbooks verbatim, diagnose rare conditions in seconds. The Scout’s cramped reality—four souls, no dedicated technician—had forced her to evolve. Kristen had devoured the ship’s manuals in a night, every schematic etched in her brain. She’d rewired shorted consoles during a meteor storm, patched a breached hull with scavenged plating, all while stitching up Jay’s gashed arm. Now, tying the EMP into the comm array, she visualized each circuit—blueprints unrolling in her mind’s eye. Her fingers danced, splicing lines with surgical precision, a medic’s calm fused with an engineer’s grit. “Max yield, wide spread,” she muttered, the stakes as familiar as a patient’s pulse. Wade’s nod anchored her; she’d become the ship’s lifeline, one crisis at a time.

In the cargo bay, Mayumi and Jay tore into the decoy drones—sleek, expendable pods the size of a man. They stripped out non-essentials, stuffing them with hull fragments, scorched wiring, and the sensor buoy’s radioactive core. “Boosting their emitters,” Mayumi said, soldering a connection. “They’ll scream our signature loud enough to wake the dead.”

Jay hefted a chunk of engine shielding into place. “Mass distribution’s key—they’ve got to scatter like a real wreck, or the Skravaks’ll smell the ruse.”

Pulse of Survival

Back in the CCS, Wade tracked the destroyer’s approach on passive sensors—its sleek, obsidian hull glinting as it closed the gap, plasma weapon ports glowing faintly violet. “Forty thousand klicks,” he muttered. “They’re not slowing down.”

“EMP’s primed,” Kristen called, sliding back into her seat. “Say the word.”

“Decoys loaded,” Mayumi reported over the intercom, her voice taut. “Spread pattern’s set—2-kilometer dispersal on launch.”

“Descent locked,” Jay said, hands gripping the yoke. “We’ll skim at 500 meters—canyons and dust storms’ll give us cover.”

Wade took a steadying breath, the weight of command settling on his shoulders. “Hit it.”

Kristen slammed the trigger. A silent pulse erupted from the Scout, an invisible shockwave rippling outward. The Skravak destroyer faltered mid-flight, its running lights stuttering as the EMP slammed into its crippled systems. Wade pictured their bridge crew scrambling…if they had a crew… long-range sensors dissolving into a haze of static.

“Now, Jay—drop us!” he shouted.

The Scout plunged toward the planet, engines howling as Jay threaded through swirling dust clouds and jagged, rust-red peaks. The hull groaned, G-forces pinning the crew to their seats, loose gear rattling in the compartments. At 500 meters, Mayumi punched the launch command. A dozen decoys streaked from the bay, fanning out across a 12-kilometer arc, their emitters blaring the Scout’s heat, EM, and transponder signals like desperate ghosts.

Jay nosed the ship into a shadowed ravine—a deep, wind-carved gash in the planet’s surface—and settled it amid a cluster of boulders. “Powering down,” he said, flipping switches in rapid succession. The engines’ hum faded to silence, the lights dimmed to a faint emergency glow, and the CCS went still save for the soft hiss of life support. Only passive sensors stayed live, feeding a grainy, monochrome view of the sky above.

Wade lowered his voice to a whisper. “Here they come.”

The Skravak destroyer loomed into low orbit, its plasma weapons igniting like miniature suns. Violet beams lanced downward, striking the decoys with surgical precision. Each hit erupted in a molten plume, vaporizing metal and kicking up geysers of dust. Then the bombardment widened—random, furious salvos of plasma raining across the surface, gouging craters and shaking the ground beneath the Scout. The hull trembled with each distant impact, the air thick with the crew’s held breaths.

“They’re buying it,” Mayumi murmured, her eyes glued to the sensor feed. “Targeting’s locked on the decoy spread—erratic, though. They’re madder than a wet hen.”

Wade clenched his prosthetic hand, the submarine analogy anchoring him. “Stay quiet. We wait them out—just like those old crews under the sea.”

Kristen shot him a sidelong glance. “You really think this’ll work?”

“Worked for them,” Wade said softly. “Depth charges or plasma bolts, same game. They’ll tire out and move on.”

The barrage stretched on, minutes bleeding into an hour. Dust plumes clogged the atmosphere, veiling the Scout’s position in a hazy shroud. The crew sat rigid, the silence broken only by the occasional thud of a stray bolt or the creak of settling metal. Finally, the plasma fire tapered off. The destroyer lingered, deploying a trio of sleek probes to sift through the wreckage—charred debris and melted alloys passing for the Scout’s corpse.

“They’re scanning,” Mayumi whispered, her voice barely audible. “Standard salvage pattern—looking for proof.”

Wade’s jaw tightened. “Let them look. We’re a ghost.”

Kristen prayed out loud in a whisper, “Father, blind them like You blinded the enemies of Elisha. Protect us and turn this to our advantage, in Jesus’ name.”

Ghosts of Recon

The probes circled for agonizing minutes, their faint hum detectable through the hull’s audio pickups. At last, the destroyer recalled them, emitting a short, encrypted burst. Mayumi’s eyes narrowed. “Victory signal—Skravak ‘target neutralized’ protocol. We’ve cracked enough of those to know the pattern.”

“Good,” Wade said, exhaling. “Now the fun part. Jay, they moving?”

Jay studied the feed. “Climbing out—slowly. Vector’s shifting toward sector seven-nine-three. They’re limping—engines at half output.”

“The EMP softened them up,” Wade said. “Mayumi, their sensors?”

“Long-range are toast,” she confirmed. “That pulse overloaded what was left—they’ll need a dock to fix it.”

Wade leaned forward, a predatory glint in his eye. “Then we follow. Jay, ease us up—five percent thrust, shadow their course. Mayumi, engage the hull’s stealth coating. Kristen, cycle our heat through the specimen sinks. We’re hunting now.”

“What’s the play?” Kristen asked, her hands already on the controls.

“We tail them to their base,” Wade said. “A destroyer that size doesn’t crawl home without repairs. We map it, study it, bring the intel back to Command. The Scout’s built for sneaking—let’s prove it.”

The next ten hours tested their skill and patience. Jay nursed the Scout upward, using the planet’s storms as cover, nudging the ship with minimal thruster bursts to avoid detection. Mayumi tuned the hull’s metamaterials—military-grade coatings that bent light and absorbed scans—until their signature vanished into the background noise. Kristen rerouted engine heat into the lab’s cryogenic storage, the near-absolute-zero chambers swallowing their thermal trail.

“They’re adjusting course,” Jay reported, his voice hoarse from focus. “Turning toward a dense debris field—looks artificial.”

Mayumi magnified the feed, excitement creeping into her tone. “Not natural—too uniform. Spectral spikes suggest a camouflage screen. Probably a repair outpost.”

Wade nodded, his mind racing. “Take us in slow, Jay. Find a spot to park among the junk—power down to life support and passives. We watch, we learn, we gather intel.”

The Scout glided into the debris field—a sprawling graveyard of twisted hulls, shattered satellites, and faint interference waves pulsing from hidden emitters. Jay wove through the chaos, settling the ship behind a jagged hulk—a derelict freighter’s gutted frame. Systems winked out one by one, the CCS plunging into near-darkness as the crew shifted to minimal power.

The Skravak destroyer maneuvered deeper into the field, its plasma-scarred hull vanishing behind a curtain of debris. Mayumi recorded its every move, her console logging entry patterns and signal bursts. “Complex approach,” she murmured. “They’re hiding something big.”

“Look at this,” Kristen said, pointing to a sensor spike. “The debris is generating a jamming field—broad-spectrum, low intensity. No wonder we’ve never pinged this place.”

Wade’s prosthetic hand flexed unconsciously, the stakes sinking in. They’d turned a desperate escape into a recon coup—penetrating a Skravak stronghold no human had ever glimpsed. “Settle in, friends,” he said, voice low but firm. “We’re here for the long haul. Map their defenses, analyze their ships, log everything. This could change the war.”

Jay cracked a tired grin. “Beats getting plasma-fried.”

“You got that right,” Mayumi said, already tweaking the passive arrays for better resolution.

Kristen leaned back, exhaling. “Guess your submarine trick paid off, Wade.”

He smirked faintly. “Old wars, new tricks. Now let’s make it count.”

As the Scout went dark, pride surged in Wade’s chest. The F290 had outfoxed a destroyer—and now it would peel back the Skravaks’ secrets, one silent scan at a time. The real mission had just begun.

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

Chapter 16 – Waiting in the Dark

Do not fear, for I am with you;

Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you, surely I will help you,

Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.’

Isaiah 41:10

The Graduates’ Departure

The planet’s sun cast long shadows across the landing pad as Wade, Jay, and the other recent graduates of the Drop Insertion School (DIS) waited in tense silence. Their eyes scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of the transport that would take them to their next challenge – Deep Space Ranger School on Earth. The air was thick with anticipation and nervous energy.

Wade’s mind wandered back to the grueling weeks of DIS training they had just endured. The bone-crushing G-forces of the Crazy-D drops, the terrifying precision of high-altitude insertions, and the ever-present specter of danger that had claimed one of their own. They had emerged stronger, more focused, and with a newfound respect for the razor’s edge they walked as aspiring Rangers.

A low rumble in the distance caught their attention. As the sound grew louder, a familiar silhouette appeared on the horizon. The Argus, the same aging transport ship that had brought Wade to boot camp, was approaching for landing.

“Well, would you look at that,” Jay muttered, a wry grin spreading across his face. “Our old friend’s come to give us another ride.”

Wade nodded, a mix of emotions churning in his gut. The Argus held memories of his journey to become a Marine, a time that felt like ages ago. Now, it would carry them towards their ultimate goal – becoming Deep Space Rangers.

As the Argus touched down, kicking up a cloud of dust, Sergeant Schwarz’s voice cut through the din. “Alright, Rangers! Grab your gear and board in an orderly fashion. Your next adventure awaits!” He saluted them farewell.

The recruits filed onto the ship, the familiar smell of recycled air and machinery filling their nostrils. Wade and Jay found a spot near the back of the troop compartment, settling in for the long journey ahead.

“Not quite the lap of luxury, is it?” Jay quipped, gesturing at the utilitarian surroundings.

Wade chuckled, remembering the opulent accommodations of the ISC Dominion. “No, but it beats that first trip to boot camp. At least we’re not getting hazed every five minutes.”

Ambush

As the Argus lifted off, leaving the lush planet behind, the recruits settled into the monotony of space travel. Days blended together, marked by rigorous physical training sessions in the ship’s small gym, study groups pouring over Ranger manuals, and quiet moments of reflection on the challenges that lay ahead.

Wade found himself spending more time in prayer and Bible study, drawing strength from his growing faith. Jay and others often joined him, their shared beliefs providing a bedrock of support as they hurtled through the vastness of space.

It was during one of these quiet moments, as the Argus skirted the rings of Saturn, that everything changed.

The first indication of trouble was a sudden lurch that sent several recruits sprawling. Alarms blared throughout the ship, and the intercom crackled to life with the captain’s urgent voice.

“All hands, battle stations! We are under attack by Skravak forces. Prepare for evasive maneuvers!”

The troop compartment erupted into controlled chaos as the recruits sprang into action, securing loose equipment and bracing for impact. Wade and Jay exchanged a grim look, both knowing the Argus was ill-equipped to handle a Skravak assault.

The ship rocked violently as plasma bolts slammed into its hull. The lights flickered, and the acrid smell of burning circuits filled the air. Over the din, The Captain’s voice came across the comm, “Prepare to abandon ship! Move to your assigned escape pods now!”

Wade and Jay sprinted towards their designated pod, joined by two other recruits – Private First Class Mayumi Kato, a fierce warrior with a razor-sharp mind, and Private First Class Bikram Rana, whose quiet demeanor belied his incredible strength and resolve.

As they strapped themselves into the cramped pod, a final, devastating blast rocked the Argus. Through the small viewport, Wade watched in horror as the ship that had carried them across the stars began to break apart.

“Launching now!” Mayumi shouted, her fingers flying over the control panel.

The pod shot away from the dying Argus, tumbling end over end before its stabilizers kicked in. As they orientated themselves, a blinding flash lit up the darkness of space. The Argus, their home for the past weeks, exploded in a silent, devastating fireball.

“Sweet mercy,” Bikram whispered, his usually stoic facade cracking.

But there was no time to mourn. The viewport filled with the terrifying sight of a sleek, advanced warship, its smooth hull gleaming with an otherworldly sheen bristling with weapons. As they watched, green plasma bolts lanced out, destroying other escape pods with ruthless efficiency.

“They’re picking us off one by one,” Jay said, his voice tight with anger and fear.

Wade’s mind raced, months of training kicking in as he assessed their dire situation. “We can’t stay here,” he said, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at his gut. “They’ll find us eventually. We need to move.”

“Move where?” Mayumi asked, gesturing at the emptiness around them. “We’re sitting ducks out here.”

Wade’s eyes locked onto the EVA suits stored in the pod’s small equipment locker. “We suit up and abandon the pod. We’re too small for their sensors to detect. It’s our only chance.”

For a moment, silence reigned in the cramped pod as the others processed Wade’s audacious plan. Then, almost as one, they nodded.

“It’s crazy,” Jay said, a grim smile on his face. “But crazy might be all we’ve got right now.”

With practiced efficiency, they donned the EVA suits, checking and double-checking each other’s seals. As they prepared to open the airlock, Wade offered a quick prayer. “Lord, guide us and protect us in this darkness.”

A Daring Plan

The void of space enveloped them as they exited the pod, the only sound the soft hiss of their suit radios and their own ragged breathing. They used their suit thrusters to put some distance between themselves and the pod, then watched in grim silence as a Skravak plasma bolt reduced it to superheated vapor.

“Now what?” Bikram asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before Wade could respond, the Skravak ship’s engines suddenly cut out. The massive vessel hung in space, a mere 300 meters from their position.

“They’ve stopped,” Mayumi observed, her tactical mind already whirring. “But why?”

“Maybe they think they’ve destroyed all the escape pods,” Jay suggested.

Wade’s mind raced with possibilities. They were alone in space, with limited oxygen and no hope of rescue. Their only chance lay with the very ship that had nearly killed them.

“We need to board that ship,” he said, his voice filled with grim determination.

“Board it?” Bikram exclaimed. “Are you insane?”

“Wade’s right,” Mayumi interjected. “It’s either that or wait to die out here. At least on board, we have a chance.”

Jay nodded, his usual humor replaced by steely resolve. “So, how do we get in? I doubt they left a welcome mat out for us.”

The four Marines studied the alien vessel, looking for any weakness, any point of entry. Its sleek, metallic hull seemed impenetrable, designed to repel any boarders.

“There!” Mayumi suddenly exclaimed, pointing to a small port on the ship’s underside. “Look closely. Every few minutes, something’s being expelled from that opening.”

Wade focused on the spot, and sure enough, a jet of liquid periodically sprayed into space. “Good eye, Mayumi. But what is it?”

“Probably some kind of waste disposal,” Jay suggested. “Not exactly a five-star entrance, but it might be our only way in.”

They watched the port carefully, timing the intervals between expulsions. “It opens every 15 minutes,” Bikram observed. “And stays open for about 10 seconds after the vacuum clears.”

Wade’s mind raced, formulating a plan. “Alright, here’s what we do. We’ll enter in pairs. Mayumi and I will go first, do some recon, then signal for you two to follow in the next cycle. We’ll have to time it perfectly and move fast.”

The others nodded, the gravity of their situation leaving no room for argument. As they waited for the next cycle, Wade offered another prayer, asking for strength and guidance in the face of overwhelming odds.

When the port opened again, Wade and Mayumi shot forward, using their suit thrusters with precision. They squeezed through the narrow opening seconds before it slammed shut behind them.

The passage they found themselves in was dark and claustrophobic, barely wide enough for their suited forms to maneuver. The walls were slick with an unknown substance, and an oppressive heat permeated the air.

“Looks like we were right about the waste disposal,” Mayumi whispered, her voice tight with disgust.

They carefully made their way down the passage, alert for any sign of detection. As their eyes adjusted to the dim light, they realized they were in some kind of sewage system. Above them, through grated openings, they could see the undersides of what appeared to be cages.

“Skravak hunters,” Wade breathed, recognizing the alien forms from their briefings. “We’re right below them. They’re all in cages. The ship must be transporting them.”

They found a relatively open area and waited, tense minutes ticking by until the port opened again and Jay and Bikram joined them.

“Man, that was close,” Jay said, his voice shaky. “I guess they’d never expect Marines to come up out of their latrine.” They all chuckled to themselves.

“We need to figure out our next move,” Wade said, taking charge. “First things first, we need to know if there’s breathable air in here. One of us needs to remove their helmet.”

Before anyone could react, Jay reached up and unsealed his helmet. The others watched in horror as he immediately began to gag, his face contorting in disgust.

“Jay!” Wade hissed, reaching for his friend.

But Jay held up a hand, taking a deep breath. “It’s okay,” he managed, still grimacing. “The air’s breathable. It just smells like a pig farm on steroids.”

The tension broke, and the others allowed themselves a moment of nervous laughter. They had made it this far, against all odds. Now came the hard part – surviving in the belly of the beast and finding a way to turn the tables on their Skravak captors.

Discovering the Ship’s Secrets

As they removed their helmets, the full force of the stench hit them. It was a noxious mixture of alien waste and the musky, predatory scent of the Skravaks themselves. Wade fought down a wave of nausea, forcing himself to focus on their dire situation.

“Alright, team,” he said, his voice low but firm. “We’re in, but we’re far from safe. We need to gather intel, find a way to sabotage this ship, send a distress signal, and somehow get out of here alive.”

Mayumi nodded, her sharp eyes already scanning their surroundings. “Here’s a vent cover, we can enter the interior through here. We should split up. Cover more ground, but stay in radio contact.”

“Agreed,” Wade replied. “Jay and I will head aft, see if we can locate any vital systems. Mayumi, you and Bikram head forward. Look for anything we can use – weapons, control panels, escape pods. And remember, stealth is our only advantage right now.”

As they prepared to separate, Jay put a hand on Wade’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy,” he said, his usual joviality replaced by a grim determination. “Whatever happens, I’ll follow your lead. We’ll get through this.”

Wade nodded, feeling a surge of affection for his friend. “Together,” he said simply.

With a final nod to Mayumi and Bikram, Wade and Jay set off down the dark, fetid corridor. The ship’s strange architecture made navigation difficult, with twisting passages and sudden drops. They moved as quietly as possible, acutely aware that discovery would mean certain death.

As they crept along, Wade’s mind raced with possibilities. They were four Marines against an entire Skravak crew, trapped on an alien vessel with no backup and no clear way out. The odds were overwhelmingly against them. But then, he reminded himself, Rangers didn’t concern themselves with odds. They made the impossible possible.

Suddenly, Jay grabbed Wade’s arm, pointing to a large compartment filled with computer servers that looked very similar to human tech.

“That looks important,” Jay whispered. “Maybe the brains of the ship?”

Wade studied the technology, trying to make sense of its configurations. “Could be. If we could disable it somehow…”

Their planning was interrupted by a burst of static from their comms. Mayumi’s voice came through, tense and urgent. “Wade, Jay, do you copy? We’ve found something. You need to see this.”

“Copy that,” Wade replied. “We’re on our way. Stay hidden.”

As they made their way back through the twisting corridors, Wade felt a mixture of dread and anticipation. Whatever Mayumi and Bikram had found, it could be the key to their survival – or the harbinger of their doom.

They found their teammates huddled behind a large, metallic conduit. Mayumi’s face was pale, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and determination.

“What is it?” Wade asked as they approached.

Wordlessly, Mayumi pointed to a large chamber beyond their hiding spot. Wade’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the scene.

The room was filled with row upon row of stasis pods, each containing a human form. Men, women, even children, all suspended in a eerie, pale liquid.

“Prisoners,” Bikram whispered, his voice thick with horror. “They’re collecting humans.”

The implications hit Wade like a physical blow. This wasn’t just a random attack. The Skravaks were systematically capturing humans, storing them for some unknown, terrible purpose.

Sabotage and Salvation

“We have to do something,” Jay said, his fists clenched at his sides. “We can’t leave them here.”

Wade nodded, his mind already formulating a plan. “Agreed. But we need to be smart about this. We may still be vastly outnumbered and outgunned.”

As they huddled together, discussing their options in hushed tones, a new sound cut through the constant hum of the ship’s systems. One of the human stasis tubes was mechanically moved over the cages of Skravaks and dumped into ravenous jaws of each lashing arm of the insectoids.

“Food!” Mayumi hissed. “They are using them for food!”

Wade’s heart raced as he assessed their limited options. They were cornered, with nowhere to run and no weapons to fight with. They had to hijack the ship, establish comms with someone, and rescue these humans.

“Have you all noticed,” he whispered urgently. “There’s no crew.”

As they explored the ship, they discovered its true nature. The vessel was entirely automated, run by a sophisticated AI. The Skravaks were simply being transported, kept in cages for future use as a ground attack force.

Wade’s mind raced with possibilities. They had discovered a horrifying truth about the Skravaks’ intentions, but they were still hopelessly lost on how to pull off this daring rescue. The chitinous sounds of the Skravaks faded, as they moved aft. As they walked they began to realize there was no form of internal security on the ship. They relaxed a little giving them the space to talk freely but more importantly to think.

“Alright, team,” Wade spoke up, his normal for the first time since entering the ship. “We’ve got three objectives now. We need to disable this ship, get a message to our people, and find a way to free those prisoners.”

Jay nodded grimly. “Tall order, buddy. Any ideas on how we pull off this miracle?”

Wade’s mind flashed back to what they thought might be the brains of the ship. The tech they had seen earlier. “That server room we spotted. If we can sabotage it, we might be able to cripple the ship. Mayumi, Bikram, did you see anything that looked like a control panel near those stasis pods?”

Mayumi’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Yes, there was a large console near the entrance. It looked like it controlled the entire stasis system.”

“Good,” Wade said, a plan forming in his mind. “Here’s what we do. Jay and I will head back to those servers, see if we can rig it to overload without losing our life support systems. Mayumi, you and Bikram get back to that control panel. See if you can figure out how to release those pods. We’ll coordinate our timing over the comms.”

The others nodded, determination etched on their faces. As they prepared to split up once again, Wade felt a surge of pride. Despite the overwhelming odds, despite the fear and uncertainty, these young Marines were ready to risk everything to save innocent lives and strike a blow against their alien enemies.

“Remember,” Wade said, his voice low but intense. “We’re Rangers. The impossible is our stock in trade. Whatever happens, we leave no one behind.”

With a final nod of understanding, the four Marines separated, each pair disappearing into the dark, twisting corridors of the Skravak ship. As Wade and Jay made their way back towards the servers, a quote from their training flickered through Wade’s mind:

“Rangers lead the way.”

It was time to live up to those words, to prove that even in the darkest of circumstances, humanity’s finest could adapt, improvise, and overcome.

Wade and Jay approached the alien server room cautiously, their eyes scanning the unfamiliar technology. They quickly realized that despite its advanced nature, the system had similarities to human tech they had encountered in their past.

“Look for any patterns or symbols that might indicate different functions,” Wade whispered. They noticed color-coded cables and distinct groupings of servers.

Jay pointed to a cluster with a pulsing red light. “That could be weapons systems. The constant activity might indicate targeting or firing mechanisms.”

Wade nodded, then gestured to another group with rapidly blinking blue lights. “Those might be the engines. The speed of the lights could correspond to thrust levels.”

They identified a smaller set of servers with a constant green glow. “Life support, maybe?” Jay suggested. “It’s steady, like it’s maintaining a constant environment.”

Finally, they spotted a section with multiple antennas and fluctuating yellow lights. “That has to be communications,” Wade concluded.

With the systems identified, they formulated a plan. Using their limited knowledge of alien tech and some educated guesses, they began to carefully disconnect and cross-wire specific components.

“If we overload the weapons and engine systems,” Wade explained, “it should create a cascade failure without compromising life support.”

Jay worked on the communication servers, temporarily disabling them by removing key components. “This should buy us some time before they can call for help,” he said.

As they finished their sabotage, Wade set a timer on his watch. “We have about 10 minutes before these changes take effect. Let’s hope Mayumi and Bikram have made progress with the stasis pods.”

With a final check of their work, Wade and Jay slipped out of the server room, ready to rendezvous with their teammates and face whatever challenges came next in their daring rescue mission.

Meanwhile, Mayumi and Bikram, upon witnessing the horrific feeding process, quickly formulated a plan to interrupt it without compromising the stasis tubes. They scanned their surroundings, looking for anything they could use to jam the rail system.

Mayumi spotted a nearby apparatus with a detachable pipe that seemed sturdy enough for their purpose. “Bikram, help me with this,” she whispered urgently, pointing to the pipe.

Working together, they carefully removed the pipe, ensuring they didn’t make any noise that could alert the ship’s AI. The pipe was heavy, but Bikram’s strength made it manageable.

They studied the rail system, identifying the optimal point to insert the pipe. “There,” Mayumi pointed, “if we wedge it in that junction, it should stop the tubes from moving without damaging them.”

Bikram nodded, understanding the plan. They waited for a moment when no tubes were in motion, then quickly moved into position. With precision, they inserted the pipe into the rail system’s mechanism.

The effect was immediate. The next time a stasis tube tried to move along the rail, it encountered the obstruction and ground to a halt. The feeding process was effectively jammed.

“It worked,” Bikram whispered, relief evident in his voice.

Mayumi nodded, her eyes scanning the area for any signs of the ship’s response to this interruption. “This buys us some time, but we need to move quickly. Let’s get back to that control panel and see if we can figure out how to keep these people alive.”

The four Marines – Wade, Jay, Mayumi, and Bikram – reconvened in the large open area they had designated as their rendezvous point. Their faces were grim but determined as they gathered to debrief their missions.

Wade spoke first, his voice low and urgent. “Jay and I managed to rig the server room for an overload. We’ve set it on a timer that should give us enough time to execute the rest of our plan.”

Jay nodded, adding, “We think we’ve targeted the weapons and engine systems primarily. The ship should be crippled, but life support will remain functional.”

Mayumi then reported on her and Bikram’s findings. “We’ve figured out how to release the stasis pods, but there’s a complication. There are no escape pods on this ship! The Skravaks never intended for their cargo to leave alive.”

Wade raised a hand, “There’s no need to panic. We are making progress and we are in no immediate danger. We need to put our heads together and figure out how to send a distress message describing our situation clearly. Otherwise, we’re gonna get obliterated by our own Navy.”