REDEMPTION TRAIL

It took quite some time for Fenton and Chellaina to make their way up the 15-foot ladder, which was mounted on the forward bulkhead of the service tug's cargo compartment. It had been a laborious climb for the elderly couple, who struggled to make their way from the cargo deck to the crew compartment at the top of the tug, though the prospect of being rescued gave them the courage to press on. They had just reached the top when Krey poked his head out of the crew hatch.
"We have to hurry!" Krey reached for Chellaina, then started to assist her into the crew compartment, "The tug is programmed to self-launch in five minutes."

Nearly half an hour passed since the strange V- shaped craft appeared next to the Star Saber, though it had been quite some time since Cassie had to endure the close scrutiny of the eerie alien searchlight. She knew that the craft was still in the immediate vicinity, however, because its searchlight would periodically pan across a window, casting a brilliant blue beam through the stale, failing air of the bridge. She could do nothing more than wait in fear in the darkness beneath the console.
Cassie realized that the service tug should be leaving the surface of the planet soon, though she was unable to verify that against her watch because of the darkness. She wondered why the alien craft had not yet attacked. It occurred to her that the craft might be waiting for the service tug to return; the Star Saber hardly presented a threat in its current configuration, tumbling end over end, and no communications with the service tug had, as yet, taken place.
Cassie had considered contacting Krey to warn him about the craft, but after giving the situation further thought, she realized that firing up the communications system would, undoubtedly, provoke the alien craft into an attack. The only other alternative she could think of was to do exactly what she had been doing since the craft appeared; nothing.
Fear and indecision took possession of Cassie. She fought the urge to bolt from her hiding place in a mad dash for the communications console; at the same time, she tried to fight the paralyzing fear that held her in the darkness like a prisoner. She found herself longing for Krey; he always seemed to be able to think clearly in the face of deathhe would have known what to do. She thought about the great World War Five Hero down at the planet's surface; if only he were here, the alien craft would surly turn tail and run.
Ultimately, Cassie realized that her wishes and fantasies would not be able to help her, nor would it be able to help those aboard the service tug who would soon find themselves in alien company. The more she thought about it, the more disappointed she became in herself; right or wrong, she had to do something besides lie under the console like a frightened puppy. She decided that, perhaps, she should quietly peer out the forward windows and scrutinize the craft; maybe she could spot a weakness or flaw that could be used to her advantage. She was, however, acutely aware of the vast gulf between her ideasand her courage.
Cassie's heart hammered in her chest with a panicked, pounding rhythm. Her breathing became erratic, and sweat poured profusely from her brow. She struggled to move, but raw, unbridled fear managed to keep her frozen like a statue. She couldn't recall ever being so utterly terrified. She knew that Krey would have done something by nowthe thought of which only renewed her self-disappointment.
Cassie had nearly worked up the courage to venture out from under the console when, suddenly, she heard a subtle click. The alien craft must have perceived it toothe alien searchlight beamed through the forward windows and struck the floor in front of her with full brilliance. There, on the floor not more than two feet from her face, was the gaping jaws of a World War Five carnivorous robotic insect. Almost immediately, the insect's micro cameras turned into the light, then, in the batt of an eye, the killer robot charged for the cover of darkness somewhere within an arm's reach of Cassie.
It was fear of the alien craft that had held Cassie prisoner under the consolebut it was a far greater fear of insects that mindlessly launched her into the full, revealing intensity of the alien searchlight. Without a thought, without a purpose, and without a goal, Cassie found herself clinging to the back of a dilapidated seat with her horror- filled eyes starring directly into the beam. The light centered on her, then the huge alien craft slowly jockeyed for a better vantage point as it moved closer to the forward windows. Cassie remained motionless and petrified.

The service tug had finally broken free of Theti's atmosphere as its engines pushed the craft closer to a rendezvous with RQ-733. All on board were comfortably seated in the crew compartment, though the sights out the forward windows were hardly comforting. Few words had been spoken during the that flight through the drifting dead, and there were few words that would have been considered appropriate in the light of such an atrocity.
The aged eyes of Fenton and Chellaina nervously surveyed the drifting carnage and wreckage, which loomed over the once peaceful world of Theti. Chellaina held a frightened hand up to her mouth as a tear streamed out of the corner of her eye and trickled toward her ear under the thrust of the engines. Her face was filled with despair as she looked to Fenton, who was unable to take his eyes off of the sight. His expression was flat, though it carried a trace of revived horror as the ungodly sight dredged up vivid memories of the war.
Krey, too, was not at his best as he stared at the vast graveyard encircling Theti; his face was filled with angeras well as contempt for the unseen barbarians who devastated that fragile, human world. He could feel his muscles tightening in uncontrolled in rage, along with the marked anxiety that comes with the frustration of nothing to take it out on. A heavy burning feeling churned deep within his being as he muttered contemptuous phrases under his breath.
The young man's hatred became blatantly apparent in both his actions and his voice as he grabbed a microphone and brought it up to his mouth.
"This is Krey Altson, ST-1136. Come in RQ- 733."
He waited for a moment, let out an irritated grumble, then keyed the microphone again.
"This is Krey Altson, ST-1136are you there Cassie?"
It soon became apparent that a reply would not be forthcoming. Krey began to worry that the Star Saberand Cassiehad met with the same demise as the rest of Theti. He slammed the microphone back down on the hook, then took a moment to calm himself down.
"Probably still maintaining radio silence," he muttered with what little optimism he could gather. After taking several deep breaths, he turned to The General and Chellaina, then did his best to swallow his anger in an attempt to present himself in a fairer light.
"I must apologize..." Krey used the most cordial voice he could muster under the circumstances.
Chellaina turned to look at Krey, though The General continued to stare out the windows. Krey continued.
"You're not exactly catching me at my best. And..." He lowered his head in remorse, then was lost for words.
Chellaina was about to reply when The General spoke, though he didn't take his eyes off of the atrocities beyond the forward windows.
"I've seen death like this before... Over Menti."
Krey looked up at the old man; his voice was cold and hard, like that of a World War Five general.
There was a short, silent reprieve; no-one moved a muscle, no-one spoke. It was Chellaina who finally broke the silence.
"You needn't apologize to us, young man. We're grateful that you came to rescue us."
The General spoke again, staring out the window as if he were oblivious to everyone else.
"Only, Menti wasn't exactly like this." His aged eyes shifted across the wreckage. "I don't know what did this. The ruins over Menti had scars from lasers...particle beams...munitions." He shook his head, not taking his eyes off of the drifting dead. "These ships look like they were just..." he shrugged helplessly, "...just tore open. I don't know."
An eerie feeling began to ripple down Krey's spine as The General continued.
"Most of the dead over Mentithe bodies of the Forth Order anywaywere killed by laser cannons." His eyes became more distant, as if he were recalling the events by some paranormal means. "We'd fire those laser cannons until they smoked and overheatedbut we never shut them down. Sometimes the computer would shut them down to keep them from exploding." He shook his head distantly, "But we'd never shut them down. We killed so many people with those laser cannons... So many. When the war was over, the predominant attack orbit looked like thisdrifting dead."
There was another uneasy pause before The General continued.
"It's ironic. They took one of the laser cannons off RQ-733, and mounted it on a memorialthere on the surface of Menti. They made a memorial out of the very weapon that killed so many people... Who in their right mind would make a monument out of a weapon?"
After a moment of silence, The General turned to Krey, "How many megawatts are your new lasers?"
Krey remained silent and still as he stared at the old man.
The General appeared to be confused by Krey's eerie lack of response, "How many laser cannons did the UN put on her during the refit?... How many soldiers are aboard her?" There was an unsettling slump in The General's expression. "...Maybe that's classified, huh?"
Krey tightened his lower jaw, then turned to look out the forward windows without uttering so much as a word. He couldn't bring himself to tell the hero that RQ-733 was a rotting, decaying hulk in the hands of exiled convicts, or that the United Nations didn't have so much as a pea shooter for the defense of the human realm. He stared at the drifting dead as the hatred inside him boiled.

Cassie continued to stand motionless in the intense blue light of the alien craft, though she had been, by no means, idle. In the depths of her mind, she had done something that only a Tripolean Syndrome genius could have done; she figured out a way to engage her unarmed ship in combat. She realized that Krey and the survivors were well on their way, and that they would be rendezvousing in less than fifteen minutes. Unless she took some kind of action, the alien vessel would be there to greet them, which would undoubtedly be the end of them as well as her.
Cassie's decision to engage the alien craft was based on logic and probability alone; she had no aptitude for heroism. Her chances of victory were slim, though considerably better than the alternative. The thought that she might have to give her life for the safety of Krey and the survivors sent chills down her spine; she took several deep breaths, then finally managed the courage to start working her way toward the copilot's seat.
The short distance to the copilot's seat proved to be awkward in the tumbling hulk. She was, however, thankful that she had taken Krey's advice in putting the Star Saber into a tumble. Although she was not able to pass herself off as space junk, she had at least mesmerized the aliens long enough to assemble a plan. It was apparent to Cassie that the aliens had no fear of her, and that the curious motion of the ship might have served to trap their curiosity, interest, or amusement. She suspected, however, that that would all end as soon as she stabilized the ship.
Cassie's fear escalated as she cautiously approached the copilot's seat. She kept her eyes fixed on the alien searchlight as she carefully strapped herself in. She briefly glanced away from the alien craft just long enough to locate several switches on the pilot's console next to her. She flipped the switches, then returned her attention to the craft.
The instrument panels suddenly came to life, followed by the escalating sound of the antimatter reactor, which began to rumble throughout the ship. The alien craft clearly perceived the change; it began to slowly back away from the nose of the Star Saber. Cassie realized that the alien ship was undoubtedly preparing for a strike. She turned toward the computer console, then pressed several keys in rapid succession.
There was a short hiss from an attitude engine as the relentless tumble of the aged Star Saber quickly slowed to a halt. Cassie looked up at the alien craft; it had already moved to nearly a hundred yards beyond the nose. Cassie's blood began to race; she was certain that it was trying to gain a safe distance in order to dispatch its weapons. She realized that her life could be all over in the batt of an eye.
The rumble and whine of the antimatter reactor continued to escalate to alarming proportions. As Cassie waited for the reactor to build-up power, she thought about the genius behind the strange implant and the remarkable distortion factors displayed by their time wake; she knew she was dealing with superior intelligence. Question was: could they be suckered?
The rumbling of the antimatter engine had begun to violently shake the deck. Sweat dominated Cassie's forehead, though she made her best attempt to portray a confident, arrogant grin. She didn't know whether the aliens understood the significance of facial expressions, but she was center-stage in the spotlight, and determined to use every means at her disposal to sucker them into a chase. She glanced at a display on the instrument panel, which flashed the message `Danger: Energy Build- up Beyond Safe Limits'. She cracked her knuckles, just as she had seen Krey do so many times before, then reached for a switch on the instrument panel.
Cassie glanced at the reactor power display, which was indicating 172%. Next to it was a flashing light that warned of an overload. She looked back out the window and tried to estimate her distance to the alien craft and the potential gradient that her time wake would produce at that distance. She would have preferred to calculate it on the computer, but under the circumstances, she would just have to estimate. She wondered how solid the alien ship would prove to be.
The sound of the reactors had reached deafening proportions as the power display approached 180%. An overload alarm sounded on the overhead panel; Cassie knew thatwin or losethis was going to be nothing short of spectacular.
The last thought that went through her mind before flipping the switch was: `metal fatigue'.

"Damnit!" Krey shouted as he slammed the microphone on the hook, "Why doesn't she answer?"
There was an unsettling silence in the tense air of the crew compartment. Fenton and Chellaina were clearly ill at ease; they didn't know the angry young man very well and the sight of the vast destruction surrounding them only added to their apprehension. They had, however, been spared the sight of dead bodies for the moment; the area that they were passing through was littered with a noticeably different kind of debris, which was suspiciously lacking in human carnage. Most of the debris was corroded and appeared to be rust-orange in color; all of the scattered pieces were considerably largeand very old.
Krey made a sharp, angry, frustrated gesture toward the forward window.
"Damnit, she should be in view by now!"
The service tug's retro motors fired rather unexpectedly for a couple of seconds, causing everyone in the crew compartment to lurch forward ever so gently. Krey furrowed his brow in confusion as he looked at the instrument panel; Cassie's pre-programmed flight plan had instructed the service tug to establish a position in orbitas if to dock.
"That's not like her," Krey muttered nervously, "She's never screwed-up a computer program before." Sweat began to build up on his brow as he looked out the forward window in search of the Star Saber. He moved his head nervously from side to side in hopes of seeing around a huge piece of drifting, corroded debris which bore the remnants of a large black letter `Q'. Krey's voice became understandably shaken.
"She wouldn't miss by this muchnot Cassie!"
An alarm sounded on an overhead panel, which quickly drew Krey's attention. He reached up to silence the alarm, then read the flashing words out loud.
"Missed Approach: Docking Port Not Found."
"Look!" Chellaina shouted, pointing anxiously at something beyond the forward windows.
Krey looked in the direction that Chellaina was pointing. There, not more than fifty yards off to the left of the nose, next to the piece of debris bearing the remnants of a `Q', was a large, ghosty, smoky image of something precipitating out of the time continuum. Within seconds, a large, rust-orange piece of debris materialized, which also bore markings; an `R' and the other part of the `Q'. Krey realized with horror that the debris look all too familiarit was the remnants of RQ- 733.
"NOOOOOOOOOO!" Krey's drawn-out denial of the facts was punctuated by several hammering blows of his fist against the instrument panel, which bent slightly under his abuse. Shortly thereafter, he collapsed over the control sickand cried.
Chellaina drew herself closer to The General as worry and fear swept across her face; The General put his arm around her in hopes of offering some small degree of comfort. Krey's sobbing became less pronounced, though he kept his face buried in embarrassment; his macho ego wouldn't let him face the elderly couple eye-to-eye.
The General looked out the window at the scattered remains, more of which continued to precipitate out of the time continuum. He looked at the two huge pieces of debris with markings; he could see that they would have fit together perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle. A solemn, war-time expression covered his face as he turned to Krey.
"Was this RQ-733?"
Krey nodded, though he didn't look up, "It was Cassie," he choked.
The General lowered his head for a moment, then looked back out at the drifting wreckage, which was once his stead to victory. He glanced across the debris, trying to imagine what it looked like before the mishap. It was then that his military eyes made an important observation.
"It was torn apartjust like the rest."
Tears filled Chellaina's eyes as she buried her face in The General's shoulder. Krey continued sobbing as quietly as possible. Meanwhile, huge pieces of the proud Star Saber continued to drop out of the time continuum like rain on a summer sidewalk.