Chapter 2

I ran to the cargo hold and pulled out one of the MANPADS. I still remembered my training on how to use the system, but had never actually fired a live one. I got the launcher from the case, set the tracking unit up on a tripod, and pulled a stack of missiles out, sat it next to me, and loaded one into the launcher. I could see the Tsch’kal transport heading my way, trailing smoke and fire. I used the targeting software to tag it as friendly. Behind it, the gunship was firing beams of coherent energy. I got a lock on the Yishkak gunship and fired. I popped the cover open and loaded another missile in, then fired again. The gunship was frantically rolling, trying to shake a missile that must have been a BIG surprise. I fired a third missile, then a fourth. The pilot was good, he managed to avoid the first two, but the third got close enough to pepper the gunship’s port engine with shrapnel, and the fourth missile scored a direct hit on the now burning engine. The gunship erupted in a fireball, spinning out of control as it streaked overhead.

While we weren’t allied with the Tsch’kal, we were at least on friendly terms. The Yishkak wouldn’t even talk to us. If there were survivors on the Tsch’kal ship, I could at least talk to them. The Yishkak would likely have just shot me if they had killed the transport and landed. They were some kind of arthropod race, and were probably too alien to be good company. The Tsch’kal, on the other hand, were bipedal humanoids. They were furry, and had large, triangular ears on the tops of their heads like foxes, but with snouts that were more rounded and short like a cat instead of elongated. They did have the upturned noses, though. From straight on, they looked very vulpine. The backs of their hands were furry, but they had fingers and a thumb like humans did, but with fluffy tails like a fox or a dog. They were about the same size as humans, too. Their warriors seemed aloof, but their diplomats were friendly enough. We had only ever seen males, apparently their gender roles were rigidly enforced. Nobody knew what roles the females played in their society aside from “mothers” and they tended to deflect the conversation whenever someone brought it up.

The Tsch’kal ship came down about 4 clicks east of my position. The Yishkak gunship was about 100 klicks east-northeast. Fuck ‘em. The satellite tracked where their ship hit the ground, and picked up an impact dust cloud. The Tsch’kal transport managed to land, but it looked like a hard landing and was in pretty bad shape. I grabbed my game travois, a medpack, and the survival computer and headed east. Hopefully there would be survivors, and hopefully they got off a distress call so we could get off this rock. It took me about half an hour to make my way to the ship. The survival computer talked to the transport’s computer and identified me as a rescuer. The transport’s computer identified a single survivor, badly injured, in the engineering compartment. The rescue hatch nearest me opened, and I made my way inside.

The interior of the ship was cooler than outside, but still warmer than mine. A haze of smoke and dust drifted about, and there were dead Tsch’kal all over the place, with impact marks on the bulkheads. It looks like most of them died in the crash. I passed through a few compartments that were open to the outside that were thankfully devoid of corpses. The survival computer was relaying the ship computer’s directions to take me to engineering. Seeing all of the bodies made me wonder how in the hell ANYONE had survived. I counted a dozen dead so far. The ship was beat to shit and shot full of holes, and the landing looked to have only qualified as a landing by virtue of the fact that SOMEONE had survived. I had to use the emergency controls to open the hatch to engineering. Once inside, the computer led me to what looked like a crawlspace set in the starboard bulkhead. I released the latches on the cover and popped it open. A few meters inside was a body. The MedScanner told me that this was my survivor. No neck or spinal trauma, so I didn’t need the C-collar from the medpack in order to move him. The crawlspace was TIGHT. I had to squeeze myself in, and once inside, I could understand how he had survived. Even with my arms were above my head, I had barely any room to move, I just shuffled my arms back and forth to propel myself forward instead of pulling myself along ... it was difficult to bend my elbows much.

Once I got close to him, the MedScanner got more detailed. It looks like some kind of conduit had punched through the bottom of the crawlspace and into his abdomen. Imaging said I could pull him toward me. I’d have to work quick and get nanogel in the wound before he bled out. He was a lot smaller than I was expecting, and should be able to move more freely in the cramped crawlspace. Reaching out, I shook his leg. “Hey buddy, can you hear me?” The survival computer translated, the Tsch’kal speech coming out of its speaker. He moaned. “If you can hear me, you’ve got a chunk of something stuck in your body. I need you to push yourself up and toward me so I can get you out of here.” More moaning, then he shifted and moved back, accompanied by a squeal of pain. He shuffled back a little more. “I’ve got you, let me pull you out of here,” I said, grabbing his leg and pulling. We got maybe half a meter before he collapsed, but at least he was clear of whatever had impaled him. I tried to work quicker, dragging him out of the crawlspace. I was tired and sore by the time my feet touched the deck. I hauled him the rest of the way out of the crawlspace and set him gently down on the deck. The uniform he was wearing was filthy, and soaked with blood from the waist up. He was unconscious. The MedScanner said he was going into shock.