Part III

With the triumphant launch of Yamato, Earth solar system patrols were doubled.  EDF forces were sent to assist the Gamilons who were now heavily besieged on multiple fronts.  Fleets a hundred vessels strong were ordered to coordinates in the Megallanic Clouds where the Dominion was attacking nearly every colony and outpost.  Yamato set a course for NGC 7793 based on intelligence reports noting that a greater concentration of enemy forces seemed to emanate from there.  As needed, Kodai directed the crew to supplement EDF forces in skirmishes along the way.  For the first few months of the mission, however, Yamato encountered little resistance.   Just as she reached 7793, the EDF scout ship Hathor began to follow a freighter headed for Laramie Space Station when it failed to respond to a hail.

Hiroshi sat back after logging the report.  He twisted around in a vain attempt to stretch in the scout’s close quarters.  “What do you make of it, Skarsgaard?”

Hiroshi’s shipmate, a lithe, fair-skinned man with pale blonde hair rubbed at his chin before answering.  “Terribly odd, given the circumstances,” he responded.  “Freight captains may be a little rough around the edges but they’re usually up for a chat.”

"Think we should contact Laramie?”

“Negative.  This may not mean anything, and I don’t want to give away our position any more than we have to.  Orders are pretty much strictly to keep an eye out, remember.”

Hiroshi nodded and drew his hands through his spiky black hair.  Any strange activity the scout ship picked up tended to make him fidget.  “I’ll run a check to see if Laramie should expect any more visitors.  We ought to see a battleship around here sometime soon.”

“Sooner would be good,” commented Skarsgaard.  He kept his eyes glued to the radar screen. 

The Hathor plunged silently on, cleaving through the inky blackness like a tadpole through water.  Despite employing some primitive stealth technology, it maintained a healthy distance from the freighter, which kept to a steady course.  As far as Skarsgaard could tell, no communications were sent or received from it.  He and Hiroshi dutifully kept watch.

Laramie Space Station was so immense that the scout pilots could see it from their position, even when they were several hours away.  Its lights, some of them hundreds of feet in diameter, blazed brightly as if to compete arrogantly with nearby stars.  It boasted the latest in satellite engineering and architectural design.  Gleaming metallic structures thrust out above and below the straight arrow hub, whose length ran for scores of miles.  Thousands of antennae spotted its surface, rotating in imperfect unison like sea anemones wafting in an ocean current.

Laramie (the definitive one-stop commercial exchange giant, gushed the trade ads) was pioneered by a partnership of private corporations interested in business with a diverse intergalactic clientele.   Flourishing under protection of the EDF and Gamilon allies, it served as a way station for soldiers on patrol or frigates returning from long hauls.  Civilian personnel sometimes worked and lived there for years at time.  It harbored three hundred docking ports, seven thousand sleeping berths, eighty-six casual-to-gourmet eating facilities, one-hundred twenty-thousand square feet of office space, five hundred and sixty storerooms of varying size, nine banks, one brig, and a hundred and twenty bars.

With a flourish of the wrist Hiroshi wrapped up his check.  He yawned.  “I’m getting some coffee, want any?”  Hiroshi rose from his chair half-stooping.  He paused at the door the bridge and turned around.  “Skars?”

Skarsgaard was hunched over the radar screen.  His right hand pushed against his headset.  “You might want to postpone your coffee break,” he said and tapped a few keys. 

Hiroshi edged back to the controls and leaned over Skarsgaard’s shoulder to get a look at the radar screen.  “Son of a gun!” he exclaimed.

Gerald Boyer was a heavyset man in his late fifties.  He had overseen Bermuda Dock since Laramie’s inception.  Bermuda was the smallest of the docks and was rarely accessed; therefore, it was exactly to Boyer’s liking.  On call twenty-four hours a day for the past twelve years, he ran the shipping and receiving office adjacent to the dock entrance.  When he wasn’t working, he was gambling.  A lot.  When he didn’t break even, he usually lost, which meant he never became too attached to his pay.  But he was reliable and experienced, so his boss kept him on. 

The office was compact and dim, lit only by the desk lamp and the glow of the monitors.    The nights and days usually blended one into the other, but Boyer made it a point to treat himself to some real food on occasion.  This particular dinnertime was one such occasion.  Boyer set the steaming plate of food on his desk and poured himself a drink.  With an audible creak he settled into his chair.  He scooped up some food with his fork, but before he had a chance to bite down an alert sounded. 

Annoyed, Boyer dropped his fork.  “Always something,” he muttered.  He opened a channel on the communications board.  “Bermuda Dock.  Boyer here.”

“Laramie, this is the Jolly Roger, G-class freighter, one-forty-niner hailing from Manitoba Corporation.  Here comes our ID,” said a man’s voice, sounding tinny through the connection.

Boyer ran a check on the identification code as it jumped onto his screen.  After a moment, a green light signaled confirmation.  “Jolly Roger,” Boyer said,” you’re cleared for docking.  Readying clamps.  Opening outer lock in one minute.”  Boyer tripped a few switches as he spoke.  “Hey boys,” he added before ending the link, “got any vintage bubbly for a lonely old man?”

There was a pause.  “That’s a negative.  Approaching dock now.  Over.”

Boyer was mildly surprised.  He usually got a laugh or two from his quips, (sometimes a good riff).  He lit a cigarette and readied an inventory download while the Jolly Roger fitted her hull against the clamps.  Then it was a short wait until the crew disembarked and checked in.  Boyer tipped back in his chair and smoked while he waited. 

The door to the office slid open.  Boyer pulled the ashtray to him and extinguished his cigarette.  He stood up.  “Welcome to Laramie—oh, god-dammit!”

A Dominion soldier had appeared and he pushed the muzzle of his gun against Boyer’s stubby nose.  The laser shot bore a hole clean through the clerk’s head.  Blood streaked out across the desk and onto his uneaten dinner.  His body fell to the floor with a thud. 

“That’s a hell of a lot of ships!”  Hiroshi exclaimed as he secured himself in his chair.  He and Skarsgaard began running multiple scans of the enemy fleet that had suddenly warped into the space around Laramie Station.  They rushed to collect as much data as possible before they themselves were discovered.  Their eyes occasionally strayed to the video picture that revealed close-up shots of the outpost.  Freighters, tankers, and other commercial vessels were taking off in droves, only to be breached and destroyed by enemy missiles. 

“What bastards!” Hiroshi said.  “Those are all civilians!”

Beads of sweat formed on Skarsgaard’s face.  “Just focus on the scans, will you?” he said.  “Who’s nearest us?” he asked a moment later.

“You’re not going to believe this, but Yamato is approaching this sector.  I say we arrange a little rendezvous.”

“Yamato?”  They exchanged glances.  Skarsgaard smirked.  “This battle is going be over before it even started.  Warping in T-minus two minutes!”

“Come in, Yamato.  Scout ship Hathor reporting.”

Hiroshi repeated the hail until he was patched through.  On Yamato’s bridge, Kodai and the senior officers listened intently as Hiroshi relayed the details of the attack on Laramie Station.  Kodai ordered Hathor to set a course for the nearest EDF fleet to drum up reinforcements.

“Assume battle positions!” Kodai ordered.  “Tanaka, begin warp preparations to Laramie.  Senior officers, meet in the strategy room in fifteen minutes for a briefing.  Mr. Sanada, I’ll want to hear everything we know about the station’s layout and defenses.  Mamoru, order the Cosmo Tigers to standby and get troops ready to board the station; we’re going to take back Laramie.”

Throughout the ship, crew sprang from their quarters or abandoned meals to begin their shifts early.  Those soldiers designated by Mamoru to launch a hand-to-hand counter attack suited up and gathered in the hangar.  Three squads of med techs readied themselves to disperse after the troops. They would provide field ministrations as well as coordinate a rescue of as many civilians as possible.  After the briefing, Mamoru arrived in the hangar and performed a final check of crew and equipment.  He strode among the troops at a brisk gait, securing a strap here, adding extra ammunition there, while stirring their enthusiasm to a fever pitch as he bellowed out orders.  When all the preparations were completed, the countdown to the warp began.

Yamato came out of warp behind the enemy perimeter surrounding Laramie.  The advantage enabled her to take out a good third of the Dominion battleships with cannon fire before they were able to realign themselves.  Two squadrons of Cosmo Tigers were launched as Yamato bludgeoned her way to the station.  Kodai ordered Tanaka to maneuver the ship by one of the larger docks so the troops could board.

When the all clear was sounded, Mamoru’s company of ships launched.  The foremost of them blasted through the dock entrance and led the rest inside.  Yamato took off to engage the Dominion fleet again as soon as the last transport exited the hangar.  The few enemy troops that met the counter-attack force were easily struck down.  The troops set up headquarters in a large warehouse area just beyond the dock proper. 

Mamoru led the first foray into the station.  Using Laramie’s frequency, he radioed station security.  A relieved but desperate voice responded and gave him directions to their location.  The soldiers stormed on and swiftly disposed of any enemy troops that fired at them.  A mile or so in, Mamoru and his group found the meager group of security guards.  They were hunkered down behind a makeshift blockade of small vehicles and office equipment.  A small number of Gamilon soldiers, who had happened to arrive on Laramie a few weeks before, provided scant reinforcement.  They briefed Yamato’s crew on the heaviest concentration of enemy troops. The Dominion wanted control of the station; that much was clear.  Laramie contained millions of dollars worth of transmission hardware, which was a valuable commodity indeed to enemy fleets light years away from their own satellite relay systems.  Security reported that a major portion of the invading force had just left that area and was heading to the main communication center.

Mamoru directed Laramie security to assist some of Yamato’s crew with civilian rescue while his battalion ventured further into the station labyrinth to head off the enemy soldiers.  They followed the path of destruction left by the Dominion.  Glass crunched underfoot, and they had to navigate over and through twisted frames of metal and other remnants of bombed out offices and storefronts.  Before long they were assailed by heavy bouts of enemy fire.  They held their ground, but were hard-pressed to accomplish a speedier assault.

Meanwhile, Miyuki landed with the first squad of medical technicians.  They quickly dispersed and began tending to the wounded.  The EDF soldier injury count was low; not so fortunate, however, were the civilians.  Hundreds lay dead, faces down, as they had been shot from behind while attempting to escape.  Scattered individuals and groups appeared from hiding.  They rushed the medical and transport ships, which would carry them to Yamato on her second pass by the dock. 

Accompanied by what guards could be spared, the med techs were ordered to spread out and search for casualties.  Miyuki’s group hurried along the path earlier trodden by Mamoru’s battalion.  The trail of dead and injured bodies led them up several levels.  They emerged beneath the area of some of the fiercest fighting.  Shouts and laser fire echoed through the walls.  The overhead lights flickered at the sound of explosions, making it difficult to see at times.

Miyuki signaled to her sentry that she was going to investigate a secondary passageway that branched off the main corridor.  After rounding the bend, she found herself at the end of a long hall that widened and ran straight for a good distance before curving away to the right. She sprang forward.  About a third of the way down, she discovered bodies, mainly civilian, strewn about the floor.  Miyuki bent to them one after another to check pulses.  She yanked off her helmet to see more clearly.  Her ears detected a weak groan, which led her to one young woman who was alive but unconscious.  Blood seeped from her thigh.  She worked quickly to stem the flow. 

As Miyuki was concentrating hard on her patient, she did not see the figure that darted from one doorway to another along the hallway toward her position.  Once she thought she heard footsteps and drew her weapon.  But she saw no one.  She was securing the last of the bandage when a helmeted enemy soldier suddenly emerged into view.  Miyuki gasped and leapt back but tripped over one of the bodies.  My gun! she thought, and looked desperately around.  Where did I leave it? 

The soldier quickly drew closer, but within twenty feet of her he abruptly stopped and lowered his rifle.  He said something, but it was muffled.  Miyuki’s curiosity was piqued, even as her fingers wrapped around her laser gun and she sprang to her feet.  Aiming her gun at him, she watched as he unfastened his helmet and swiftly pulled it off.

“Miyuki?” he asked.

Her eyes grew wide.  “Alois!” she cried, and the love for him burst through her like a flood.  Miyuki ran to him. 

She holstered the gun.  Her hands reached out to stroke his forehead and his side.  “Did everything heal well?  Are you all right?”  Tears streamed down her cheeks.  “I know I should forget about you, but I missed you so much!  I want to be with you, Alois.  I want us to be together!”

Alois whispered her name and was gazing at her tenderly as she spoke.  Dropping his helmet, he slipped his arm around her waist and lifted her up.  He sought her mouth and kissed her ardently.  Miyuki went limp against him as her lips responded in kind.  She groaned longingly when he drew back. 

“What ship are you serving on?” he asked, continuing to graze her cheeks with his lips.

“Yamato,” Miyuki said languidly.

Alois eased her back on her feet.  “Then you must go back, and tell your troops to return as well.  It’s not safe here; we have the station.”  He retrieved his helmet.  “I have to go.  I’ll hold my contingent back as long as I can, but you have to get out of here quickly!”  He gently nudged Miyuki back in the direction from whence she had come, and turned to leave.

Miyuki was tearful.  She took a few steps toward him.  “Alois!  Take me with you—oh!”

  For Alois had raised his rifle.  He brandished it at her.  “Return to your ship, Miyuki!”  

Refusing to move, Miyuki stared at him, her expression a mixture of adoration and confusion.  Alois’ face softened.  But worried that he would change his mind and land them both in danger, he spun around and ran away.  Miyuki cried out after him but was suddenly yanked aside.  It was Mamoru, fresh from battle and looking disheveled and dirty. 

“Who is that guy?  How do you know him?”

Miyuki avoided his gaze.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

Mamoru grabbed her shoulders and shook her so that she would look at him.  “I saw him kiss you!”  His eyes blazed.  “And if I’m not mistaken you were making it pretty easy for him!”  His voice was nearly a shout.

Miyuki laid a hand on his chest and pushed him away.  She wiped at her eyes.  “Cepheus,” she said.  “I met him during one of the battles there.”  Miyuki’s shoulders sagged.  “Please, Mamoru, don’t tell Mom and Dad!”  She grabbed his arm and looked at him pleadingly.  “I’ll tell you everything when we get back to the ship, but right now we have to get out of here.  Alois said they have the station.  We’re probably outnumbered.”

Mamoru glared at her, but could not disagree as he also had heard Alois’ parting words.  Facing an unexpected amount of enemy resistance, he and his crew had backtracked to regroup at HQ and check in on the med techs.  Knowing his sister’s penchant for drifting to the more dangerous battle areas, Mamoru inquired as to her whereabouts.  At first, no one could tell him where she was.  When he discovered just how far she had wandered off, he went in search of her.  Mamoru encountered her with Alois just as they reunited.  He had peered around the corner as they talked, and witnessed everything.

“Just don’t tell Mom and Dad, okay?”  Miyuki said urgently.  “There’s no way I’ll ever see him again and telling them will just make them worry needlessly.” 

“Damn right you’ll never see him again,” Mamoru muttered as they headed back.  He kept a firm grip on her elbow.  “I can not believe what I just saw.”  He shook his head in frustration.  “I’m busting my ass so you can dally around with some enemy playboy?”

Miyuki lowered her head.  She hated to disappoint her brother, and hoped that the whole story would help him to understand.  Mamoru continued to spew his anger but quieted down once they merged with other Yamato troops.  He radioed in to Kodai and advised that the forces retreat. 

 “Are you sure?” was the response.

“Affirmative.  I estimate we’re outnumbered three or four to one.  Now’s the time to pull out before we incur heavier losses.  If we keep on like this, Laramie’ll be reduced to a pile of dust.”

The captain gave him clearance to retreat.  They gathered what civilians they could and readied the transports to leave.  Tanaka edged Yamato in as close as he dared so they could enter the hangar as safely as possible.  After the last one entered, Yamato pulled away.  Her work was not yet done, though, as more Dominion battleships arrived to engage her.  Kodai ordered barrage after barrage of missile and cannon attacks, yet he was beginning to consider a full-scale retreat.  Better for Laramie to remain intact, even if captured, than destroyed.

“Aihara,” he said, “How long before that fleet arrives?”

“Twenty hours, sir.  They report they’re traveling at top speed.”

Kodai sighed.  In his opinion, the campaign had not gone well.  He dreaded having to pull out like this.  “Signal the retreat.  Tanaka, find us a quiet place to warp to for repairs.  We’ll rendezvous with the 97^th fleet and go from there.”

Nearly an hour past midnight, Mamoru caught up with his sister as she left sickbay.  The mood on board was quiet as the crew went about repairs and those off shift relaxed in their quarters.  Mamoru guided her to a secluded table in the mess hall.  He left and returned with two mugs of tea.

“Now,” he said, “from the beginning.”

“You promise not to tell?”

After a moment of consideration, he nodded.  Miyuki then relayed the tale of her encounter with Alois on Cepheus Colony.  She told her brother everything, including being held at gunpoint.  She flavored her story with her impressions of Alois, and unabashedly described her feelings for him.  At the end, she was careful to qualify her statements with an assurance that it was a relationship that would never bloom (“You barely know him.  You’re hardly in a ‘relationship’,” Mamoru reminded her).

Miyuki sipped the last of her tea then looked at her brother.  “Are you still mad at me?”

Mamoru sighed.  “No.  But don’t do anything stupid like that again.”

Miyuki nodded slowly.  “Love makes you do stupid things, I guess.”  Her lips curled up in a shy smile.  “You saw him, though.  Isn’t he handsome?”

Mamoru rested his cheek against his hand.  “He’s just dreamy,” he cooed.

Miyuki’s face brightened.  “Yes, exactly-ohh!  You’re making fun of me!”  Her eyes welled up in tears.  She rubbed at them brusquely.

Mamoru was slightly taken aback.  “I just think you need to get over him.  If this weren’t war, things might’ve been different.  But these people are deadly, and I only have one sister, y’know.”  He found it difficult to stay cross with her for long.  Mamoru chuckled and rubbed the back of his head.  “I guess he is pretty cute,” he added. 

Miyuki glanced at him in surprise and they started to laugh.  Hard.  They became so embroiled in their mirth that they almost missed the captain’s announcement:  Yamato would return to Laramie station at 0700 hours. 

End of Part III

Back