REDEMPTION TRAIL

Another bleak day of the voyage had come and gone without incident. The beautiful, breathtaking view of the cosmos was in stark contrast to the dismal, distant mood on the bridge. Krey and Cassie had finally managed to form a d‚tente, of sorts, though it wasn't based on any kind of agreement; Krey simply spent most of his time at the front of the bridge, while Cassie spent most of her time at the rear. For the sake of maintaining sanity, conversation had been kept to a minimum and harsh words had been replaced by hard looks. It was indeed a lonely, miserable flight.
Cassie had been occupied with reading ever since she found The General's diary. She was delighted with her new antique; she enjoyed the novelty of turning the brown, fragile pages and reading the pen-and-ink script. To her, it almost seemed like deciphering hieroglyphics; all the letters were connected and no two A's or O's were written in exactly the same fashion.
What Cassie found most intriguing about the diary, however, was not the paper and ink; it was the brave, heroic deeds of the crew that once served the gallant RQ-733 long before it became a rotted, decaying hulk. Her fascination with the diary, however, went deeper than that; very little had been written about World War Five, and she felt as if she had been granted a taboo peek into the men, machines, battles, and politics surrounding the bloodiest war in human history. The diary even changed her views of RQ-733; in her mind it was no longer a floating junk-heapit was a proud piece of human history.
Cassie sat in a partially broken-down seat somewhere near the rear of the bridge as her intrigued eyes raced across each and every noble word. She couldn't put the diary down as she read about the ship's proud commander, who, in her eyes, must have been so gallant and pure that his teeth must have surely sparkled.
She turned the page.

It has been nearly a month since the front collapsed. We received word from UN command that every war machine in operation has converged on Menti, and that the outcome of the war now hinges on this dirty, unforgiving battle. The odds are certainly against us, though we have managed to whittle their armada down to 46 ships.

Casualties were high today; we lost twenty-eight men when the phantom took out one of the conventional engines, and lost another three to carnivorous robotic insects. Some progress has been made today in dealing with the phantom. For the first time since the phantom attacks started, we finally have an eye-witness who could identify the ship; it's a modified B-2732 fighter-bomber with what appears to be a time distortion engine hanging out of its bomb bay. This explains the nature of the attacksin part.

Apparently, the phantom stays hidden in the time continuum, then somehow manages to appear in the real world at an amazingly accurate, point-blank position. The phantom simply appears, dispatches its ordinances, then returns to the cover of the time continuum. We still do not know how the phantom manages to get such an accurate fix on us; it comes out of the time continuum with such precision that it doesn't even have to use its conventional engines for minor adjustments.

The Phantom has already knocked out all six engines on our sister ship, RQ-653, and rendered her powerless. We've dispatched our drones to tow her to a higher, more stable orbit, but the effort is futile. Although RQ-653 is in a decaying orbit, her guns still work and she continues to fight.

The Phantom clearly has us at a disadvantage. We can't chase it into the time continuum because it can make the transition much faster than a lumbering Star Saber, and to pursue it through time would only deprive Menti of our protection.

Our engineers are currently working on an effective means of locating and combating the Phantom. I fear that, unless the Phantom is stopped, we will find ourselves in the same decaying orbit as our sister ship. God help them.

As near as we can assess, there are still at least five carnivorous robotic insects at large somewhere in the ship; technicians are trying to search for them with little success. The crew has become nervous since the last three insects appeared, and understandably so. This newest wave of micro robots are extremely intelligent; they seek out strategic hiding places, some of which are personal and cruel.

One of the insect casualties occurred when a man was putting on his helmet; the robotic insect was hiding beneath the helmet's lining. As soon as the helmet was locked and secured, the carnivorous robot came out of the lining, bored into the man's neck, then tunneled its way out through the chest cavity. The insect broke free of the pressure suit then disappeared down a ventilation duct. According to witnesses, it all happened in the batt of an eye.

That same insect showed up two hours later in a man's boot. The insect penetrated the man's foot, then followed the bone up to the thigh, where it appeared to go dormant. When the chief surgeon tried to remove it, it came to life; killing the chief surgeon and a medical technician. That particular insect is still at largesomewhere.

Since then, several of the damnable, man-eating robots have shown up in helmets, one was discovered under the rim of a toiletthank God they were discovered before anyone got killed. The robot insects are extremely fast and almost impossible to catch. We've started laying out traps, using helmets and boots as bait, but the insects haven't fallen for it yet. We still have not answered the most perplexing question surrounding the insect problem; how are they finding their way onto the ship?

Cassie drew a nervous hand up to her mouth as she slowly lowered the book. She lifted her uneasy eyes from the diary to survey the numerous nooks and crannies scattered throughout the bridge; any one of which would make an excellent hiding place for one of the hideous, robotic creatures mentioned in the diary. A cold chill ran down her spine; were any of the robotic insects still at large, hiding somewhere in the wreckage? And, if so, could they still be operating after all these years?

Krey sat idle in the pilot's seat as he tilted another canister of Milwaukee Brew. He had forgone lunch in favor of his staple beverage, and his stomach was beginning to get noticeably queasy. He lowered the canister, then gazed at the all too familiar label.
He thought about Delaina and the three weeks they once shared together. As far as he was concerned, she was a gem. She was always bright, cheerful, happy, quick-witted, and fun to be with. She was a nice-looking woman with a provocative set of eyes and a lovely shape. She had a craving for adventure, and could be very creative in zero gravity during those intimate moments that Krey cherished so. He could still vividly remember how exciting she was to the touch.
Krey drew a heavy sigh as he lifted his beer canister one more time. After taking a longer than usual drink, he lowered the canister, then looked at the badger on the label, which had been Milwaukee Brew's trademark for nearly five decades.
The corner of his mouth turned up in a haphazard grin as he spoke to the badger, "I guess you just weren't her type."
He was just about to take another drink when his weary, glossy eyes noticed something peculiar in the distance. He could have sworn that some of the stars were moving or waving in a broad band, which ran the entire length of the windows. He chuckled to himself.
"That's not real," he muttered. Then he raised the canister again.
He took another long, steady drink then, after wiping his mouth on his sleeve, returned his attention to the vast star field in front of him. The queasy, waving motion of the stars persisted.
Krey kept his eyes focused on the strange movement of the stars; it almost seemed as if he were viewing them through the ripples of a pond, or like he was watching the effects of a distorted, fun house mirror. He struggled to focus his eyeshe knew that what he was looking at wasn't real, that it couldn't possibly have been real.
Again, he looked at the badger on the canister, "This is your jokeisn't it?" He made the badger respond with a nod by tilting the can up and down. "Thought so."
When Krey returned his attention to the stars, he noticed that Capella was no longer in its proper position; a course correction was required. Krey grabbed the stick, then thought carefully before directing a course change. He tried to focus on the moving, wavering stars, but the effect only seemed to be getting worse. He finally succumbed to the notion that he was, perhaps, too drunk to fly a spacecraft. He lowered his head and rubbed his eyes.
"Cassie!"
A less than enthused reply came from the rear of the bridge.
"What!"
He drew an uneasy breath, then shouted his reply, "Come take the helmI don't feel good."
"Small wonder!"
Krey looked out at the stars, then shook his head. He couldn't understand why the stars insisted on waving and weaving. In all the years he had been drinking, he never had such problems with his eyes. He looked down at the canister of Milwaukee Brew, shook his head, then slipped the canister into the pocket on his pant leg. A moment or two later, he heard Cassie coming down the rope.
"I can't see straight anymore," he reluctantly admitted.
He turned around to see Cassie staring out the forward windows; her mouth hung open in disbelief as her leery gaze panned across the vast star field. She spoke in a cold, stark, bone-chilling whisper.
"What the hell is it?"
Krey snapped his head toward the star field, "You meanit's real?"
"Yes it's real!" Cassie quickly positioned herself into the copilot's seat as Krey stared at the strange anomaly. He shook his head.
"It can't be realstars can't move like that."
"It's not the stars, stupid." She strapped herself in, then looked out the window; an uneasy concern dominated her voice, "It's something between us and the stars bending the light."
Krey was beginning to show traces of alarm, "Like what!?"
"You're the captainyou tell me!" Cassie's voice also betrayed a subtle degree of fear.
"Come on!" Krey argued, "We're in the same boat herehelp us out!"
Cassie took several heavy, awe-filled breaths as her uneasy eyes studied the unprecedented phenomenon.
"How long has it been there?"
Krey swallowed hard, "Ten, fifteen minutes. It's been getting worse."
"At a steady rate?"
Krey nodded as he stared at the phenomenon.
Cassie quickly glanced across her instrument panel, "What's the engine load?"
Krey looked down at the engine instruments, "Up fifteen percent."
"It's a time wake!" Cassie's voice was noticeably shaken.
"Can't be!"
"It is."
Krey shook his head as he watched the massive bend in the time continuum approach, "This ship produces the largest time wake of anything builtand it's nothing like that. I thought I was seeing things."
"You Idiot!" Cassie was near tears, "If you would have said something about it when it first appeared we might have been able to drop out of the time continuum before it got here!"
"But I"
"It's too late now!" she shouted as she pointed at the menacing wave, "It'll tear us apart!"
The massive Star Saber suddenly heaved hard to the right as Krey and Cassie reached for something to hold onto. Their screaming voices were hardly audible over the twisting, grinding rumble of the dilapidated hull. Numerous loose items were strewn about the bridge and several corroded pipes snapped in half. There was a quick flash somewhere near the rear of the bridge, followed by a short shower of electrical sparks.
The wave rippled down the hull of the star saber, casting small bits of metal out into space. It knocked one of the drone bay doors ajar and loosened several access panels. As the wave washed over the tail section, another one and a half ton's worth of hull broke free and began drifting out into space.
The massive wave cleared the ship and continued on its way. The loud, devastating rumble had been replaced by a series of creeks and moans as the crippled hull gradually settled to a more hospitable environment. Small pieces of debris drifted away from the craft, and a large, bubble-like pool of hydraulic fluid had began to collect somewhere near one of the conventional engine nozzles.
Inside was a similar sight; loose pieces of debris were drifting about the bridge and the smell of burnt electronic equipment filled the air. A thin haze of smoke lingered in the cabin and some of the overhead lights blinked, flickered, then went dead. Krey and Cassie were understandably shaken by the ordeal, though otherwise unscathed.
Krey nervously glanced around the bridge, then looked down at an assortment of flashing lights on his instrument panel.
"Damn! The hydraulic system is out!" He reached up and switched off the pumps, which, in turn, extinguished the warning lights. "I'm sure there was other damage."
He turned to Cassie, "What could have made a wake like that? Some kind of natural phenomenon?"
Cassie shook her head, "No. Time wakes don't occur in nature."
"A ship?"
"Maybe, but if it was, then it must have been bigger than most cities." She pointed toward Krey's instrument panel, "What about the hydraulic system? What was it supporting?"
"The gimbals for the conventional engines." Krey drew an uneasy breath; he realized that the damage could have been avoided if he wouldn't have been drinking all morning.
Cassie raised a leery eyebrow, "You mean, we can't use the conventional engines?"
Krey shook his head, "Not unless you want to fly around in tight circles. Don't worry," he tried to assure her, "maybe I can fix it before we get to"
He was interrupted by a screaming alarm and flashing light that suddenly came to life on the overhead panel. Krey reached up to silence the alarm.
"What is it?" Cassie asked in an anxious voice.
Krey studied the panel, "It detected a leak in a compartment somewhere."
"Which Compartment?"
Krey pressed several key on the panel's keypadthen his expression suddenly changed to total and utter dread.
"THIS ONE!!"
Cassie froze in disbelief; she could hardly believe that the end of her existence was already upon her. Her plans for the future were quickly replaced by the fading memories of the past, and the uncertainty of what might lie beyond the barrier of death. A harsh, stabbing chill pierced her spine as she grappled with the inevitable; there would be no more safes to crack, no more security systems to breach, no more ships to steal, and no more romantic fantasies to pursue. It would all end here, in a World War Five relic stuck in time somewhere between the infinite stars of space.
"Here!" Krey shouted, "Snap out of it!"
Cassie looked down to see Krey with a handful of Leak Stop. He shoved two of the virgin tubes into her idle hands, then scrambled out of his seat as if his pants were on fire.
"Help me find the leak! Hurry!"
She watched as Krey started gliding across the ceiling in search of the leak. She was scared to death and unsure of what she should do; she hesitated for a moment before following his example. A wild, trembling terror took over her body as she started off across the floor. In her mind, it was a futile gesture; there was over 2,400 square feet of nooks and crannies that had to be searched, scrutinized, and carefully examined. Finding and sealing a leak in a compartment this big would take a core of engineers a weekthey only had minutes.

As Krey moved across the ceiling, he began to hear the unmistakable, violent hiss of air escaping. He look in the direction of the noise, then noticed that the thin haze of smoke pointed like an arrow to the edge of the huge, circular viewport.
"It's over here somewhere! Hurry!"
He changed course by grabbing onto a pipe, then skimmed across the ceiling using broken down seats and dilapidated consoles to guide him. Judging from the sharp curvature of the smoke, he guessed that the leak was quite substantial; he could already feel the pressure dropping in his ears.

Cassie also noticed the pressure change; she looked up at Krey and saw him come to an abrupt halt near the edge of the viewport. Suddenly, she realized that there might be a chance of survival; she pushed herself up from the floor and started to make her way to Krey.

Krey's voice echoed through the bridge, "FOUND IT!"
He wildly unscrewed the cap off of a tube of Leak Stop as he sized up the crack; it was a good one. The fracture was located next to the metal frame that held in the huge viewport in place; it was at least an eighth of an inch wide and nearly a foot long with air roaring out of it at an alarming rate. Krey tried applying a bead of the survival goo over the gash, but the rushing air immediately blew the Leak Stop through the crack and out into space. He shook his head as he abandoned the effort, "This shit ain't going to get it."
Cassie arrived at the viewport just in time to hear the bad news. She already had the cap off of a tube of Leak Stop and was fully prepared to combat the hissing menace, when her brief surge of hope suddenly faded.
"Are we going to die?"
Krey glanced into her terrified eyes as he tore his shirt open at the chest. "Not if I can help it." He quickly removed his shirt then tucked it under an arm. "Watch this."
Krey worked at a frantic rated as he tore the bottom off of a tube of Leak Stop, then started laying down a thick, inch-wide base of the muck over the crack. Most of the goo ended up on each side of the fracture and did little to seal the gash, and anything that covered the crack was simply blown out into space. The cabin pressure was getting uncomfortably low and the pain in their ears was escalating.
"You're wasting it!"
"Quiet!" Krey shouted, "Get ready with your tube!"
He finished laying down a thick base of Leak Stop, then grabbed his shirt and stretched a section of the material over the crack like a patch. The sound of rushing air dropped by a noticeable amount, though it continued to escape through the cloth.
"I'll hold ityou seal it!"
Cassie realized what Krey had in mind; he was using his shirt as a crude foundation to support the sticky sealant until it could set. She quickly applied a thick bead on the material over the crack. The cabin pressure pushed the goo into the cloth, but its thick consistency and the cloth's tiny mesh slowed it up considerably. A fragile smile came to her face as the terrifying hiss of air gradually diminished to nothing.
"Put on another layer! Hurry!"
Cassie quickly followed Krey's directions and immediately began to apply a second bead, though she didn't think it was entirely necessary. The make-shift patch seemed to be holding; she was impressed with Krey's crude, yet effective solution.
She took a deep breath of relief as she finished the second bead. "I thought we were dead." She looked up at Krey through a fragile smile of relief, "You saved us!"
Krey, however, did not share her enthusiasm; he wore a scowl as he watched the patch and waited for it to set.
"I did nothing of the sort," he retorted as he released the patch.
Cassie furrowed her brow in confusion, "You didyou were very clever."
"I was very stupid!" He reached into the pocket on his pant leg and pulled out the canister of Milwaukee Brewthen hurled it across the bridge with all his might. The canister ruptured as it slammed into the hatch at the rear of the bridge; beer spewed out everywhere as the canister spun and whistled to a plume of foam.
Krey turned his back on Cassie and started toward the flight controls long before the canister had a chance to settle, "Go ahead, rub it in."
"I didn't mean it that way, Krey!"
There was no response.

Cassie just floated idle next to the viewport as she watched Krey make his way to the flight controls. As near as she could tell, Krey's anger was directed at himself. She did not understand; to her, being angry with one's self was a logical impossibility. She glanced at the beer canister and puzzled over Krey's behavior; what did he stand to gain by being angry with himself? She found the question to be as confusing as it was intriguing.