> /ksnet/proj/stories

Reynold looked around him. In front of him was the main console, with the viewing screens displaying all the latest data about the ship and its surroundings. To either side of him were windows that allowed him to see the arms of the space dock reaching around the ship to hold it in place. Behind him, he could hear the occasional hum of the environmental systems and the main power generator.
Yet, all of these things seemed far away as he thought about his mission. Perhaps to be his last one, Reynold was to travel to deep space and search for survivors in some of the deep-space asteroid mining sites. Word had it that the technology had turned against the miners and killed them all.
No one knew for sure.

Reynold was a top-ranking officer in the United States Aeronautic Artillery and Command Force. He had a long history of good service and an excellent record of hostage rescues and the like. Yet this mission was to take him far beyond anything he had done before.
Unlike domestic tasks, where a mad bomber would barricade himself inside government buildings and threaten to destroy his hostages, or the occasional terrorist attacks upon innocent people, Reynold never had to deal with technology that had run amok. He had no experience with this sort of thing, and knew without a doubt that he might certainly die in battle.
AACF Command had been sure to supply him with the best they had. "This ship will survive more hits than 100 of our best fighters," Commander Bluestone had told him. Yet, he wasn't convinced. One thing Bluestone had forgotten to mention was the fact that the mining drones were designed to find weak spots. They would analyze the walls and drill and blast through only the weakest ones, in order to maintain the integrity of the mine itself. If they could do that with the vast irregularity of their surroundings, they could certainly find the chinks in Reynold's armor.

T-minus five minutes. Reynold sat patiently, yet nervously. He tried to soothe his mind by thinking of his family. He recalled his son's fourth birthday just a week before. He shuddered to remember that he would be missing his older daughter's Little League playoff game, which would be held today at three o'clock. He thought of his wife, Diana. Oh, the constance, the dependability, to which he could be sure to return every night. Only occasionally would he have to spend more than a couple of nights away from her, and even then, she would still be there. Perhaps it was a crutch for him, but he didn't care.
Only now, that crutch wasn't there anymore. It would take him two days just to arrive at his destination, Mining Outpost #6. It might take him weeks, even months, to complete his mission, and it was possible he might never return alive. A tear ran down his cheek as he faced again the realization that he may never see his children grow up.
Yet, this was his duty.

T-minus two minutes. Reynold's heart began to beat faster and harder. He sat in silent agony, waiting for the excessively slow countdown to be completed. The Comm screen in front of him flashed a message: "Prepare for final launch sequence." The words seemed to have an almost sinister sound, as if this was the last time this ship, and its pilot, would ever leave this dock.
T-minus one minute. Reynold waited. All was quiet, eerily quiet.
T-minus thirty seconds. Still, he waited. No sounds came from the Comm channels, and the only visible activity was the series of preprogrammed messages that indicated what the engines and guidance systems were doing at each second.
T-minus ten seconds. Okay, Reynold thought. Here we go.
Five, four, three, two, one ...

Reynold awoke in the middle of nowhere, still strapped to his seat. He instinctually scanned the status screens - "Fuel: Nominal, Guidance: Online, Engines: Online, Life Support: Nominal, Comm: Standby." He read the time: 17:32. He had been asleep for eight hours.
Next, as he continued to awaken, he realized that he really was in space. He unstrapped himself and felt himself float out of his seat. At first, his body told him he was falling, and he wildly reached out to grab onto something. Then he recalled his anti-gravity training. As if to save face from anyone who might be watching, he quickly flipped himself over and sent himself spinning in a graceful arc back to his seat. He marveled at the absence of dizziness that he would have experienced had he still been on Earth.
Reynold turned and floated over to the food synthesis panel behind the command module. It took him a moment, but he found his voice and said to the panel, "Meal preference number five, please." Almost immediately, the panel composed a complete meal consisting of a hot open-faced turkey sandwich covered with gravy, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and yams. Again, he marveled at the advances in technology as the food stayed on its tray. Almost like Thanksgiving, Reynold thought as he drifted back to his chair and began eating.
While he was working on his meal, the Comm screen flashed: "Request to open two-way communication. Source: AACF Command, Authorization Code Beta. Confirm?" Reynold tapped the button marked "Open Comm" below the screen.
Within a few seconds, the image of Reynold's long-time friend and commanding officer, Commander Bluestone, had materialized on the screen. He was smiling and looking directly at Reynold.
"I'm glad to know you're still there, Lieutenant Commander," he said. "How are you doing?"
"Well, Commander, you caught me in the middle of dinner," Reynold replied with a chuckle. "I'm doing fine out here. All systems are reporting nominal, and my E.T.A. is about 31 hours."
"That's good. We show your ship on a direct course to Mining Outpost #6. I called mainly to confirm your mission directives."
"Confirm away," Reynold said, and took another bite of mashed potatoes.
Bluestone cleared his throat, then began, "Once again, this is your mission. You are to search all four asteroid mining stations at Mining Outpost #6 and rescue all survivors of a technology attack. The latest intelligence shows that there is at least one survivor in each mine, and that the mines are becoming more heavily infested with drones. No one knows at this point what caused the incident, but we feel that someone has taken over the central command station at M.O. Six. No other mines at any other outposts have been affected, and a level-one security alert has been posted at all of them. They have been secured."
"Okay ... any new information?" Reynold asked.
"Yes, actually. Your record shows that you have no experience with asteroid mining technology."
Reynold's heart felt like it both sank and jumped at the same time, and several thoughts ran through his head at once: Mission canceled? Does this mean I get to go home? Is this a demerit? What's going to happen?
In answer to all of his unasked questions, Bluestone continued: "For that reason, you will rendezvous with a weapons-and-technology expert in eight hours at Mining Outpost #2." Then he switched to his more familiar voice. "Oh, who cares if we sound official? This guy's name is Powell Saxton. I've worked with him for years. Not exactly the most personable guy around, but you'll think he was sent from God when this mission is over."
"Okay," said Reynold, "but what does this mean for me? That reduces my ship's capacity."
"We thought about that too. At M.O. Two, we will be making some modifications to your ship. We will replace several systems with smaller, more efficient units, which will improve your capacity. We'll also install higher-power laser units outside the ship and add a gravity generator. That way, you can feel comfortable and also do your work faster."
"Doesn't that take more energy?"
"Nope. Trust me, old friend. It's being taken care of." Then, with an almost sly look in his eye, Bluestone added, "Of course, if you really want to give up, we can turn you around right now and send out someone else."
"No, no, no!" went the pilot, like a child, "I can handle this job. Don't worry about that."
"Okay, then," Bluestone was back to his official tone. "You're clear on your directives?"
"Yes, sir. No problem. And how long will I be staying at M.O. Two?"
"The modifications will take two to three hours, and then you and Saxton can continue. Your E.T.A. will be adjusted accordingly. Meanwhile, you can spend that time getting to know your weapons expert."
"Okay. All clear, then, and I will report back to you when the mission's been completed."
"That sounds fine," Bluestone leaned forward to the screen and lowered his voice again. "As one friend to another, you better report back to me! I don't want to lose you in a mission like this! Though I can't think of a more noble cause to die for."
This reminded Reynold again of his family. He replied sadly, "I'll do my best. Could you do me a favor, Jack?"
"Sure. What do you want?"
"Could you send a message to Diana and the kids, letting them know that I'm okay and I'll be home in a few days? Tell Katie that I'm sorry for missing her playoff game, and that I hope she won."
"I'll relay the message. Best of luck, Lt. Commander."
"Thanks, Commander. Lt. Commander Reynold Foster out." With that, the screen went blank. Reynold finished his dinner, checked the readouts again, noted the change in his course, and promptly fell asleep.

He awoke again to a rather irritating beeping noise. He opened his eyes and saw the message on the Comm screen: "Prepare to dock at Mining Outpost #2." He shut off the beeping noise and looked out the window. In front of him, only minutes away, was the outpost. He was dazzled by the multitude of lights flashing and seeming to swirl around the toroidial structure of the station, and he saw the docking hatch open up. Presently, he felt a sense of relief as he contemplated getting out of the monotonous environment of his ship.
Within a few minutes, he was docked and walking about. He was happy to be outside the ship, talking to other people. He also marveled at the dizzying efficiency with which the technical crew began modifying the ship, pulling out the old parts and replacing them nearly instantaneously with new ones. At this rate, he thought, I should be on my way again in no time.
A finger tapped Reynold on the left shoulder. He turned to see a tall, thin, middle-aged man looking at him with a somewhat superior air. He was standing at attention in the standard AACF red-and-gray uniform. Presently he spoke, "Lt. Commander Foster, I presume?"
"Yes, sir, that's me," Reynold replied.
"Lt. Commander Powell Saxton. Senior weapons-and-technology expert." Saxton put out his hand.
"Ah, yes. Mr. Saxton." Reynold shook Powell's hand. Just as hard as Bluestone told me, he thought. "Commander Bluestone told me all about you."
"Oh, he did?" Saxton's face remained unchanged. "Well, then you know what I'm here for. I will be accompanying you on your mission to Mining Outpost #6."
"Right. I'll need your help in the mines."
"Well, I have some new intelligence data that needs to be looked at. Care to join me?"
"Official business?"
"Yes. New information from M.O. Six. There may be a clue as to who's responsible for the tech attack."
"You're on. Where shall we meet?"
"Central dining lounge, in two hours. I need a chance to review the technical information. Two hours from now." With that, Saxton turned and walked out of the dock. Reynold stood there for a moment, still staring after the weapons expert. Then he turned again to the ship and saw that the crew was installing a second chair in the cockpit. A thought came to his mind: You mean I have to sit with this guy for days on end shooting up stuff? He dismissed the thought and left the room.

Two hours later, Reynold entered the central dining lounge and quickly found his companion. He was sitting at one of the tables, looking intently at a small portable computer screen and polishing off a plate of pasta. Reynold walked over and greeted Saxton.
"Ah, Mr. Foster. Sit down. Here is the latest intelligence, as I promised." He turned the computer so they both could see the screen. Reynold found himself looking at lines and numbers that were completely meaningless to him.
"This is a map of our first mine," Saxton explained. "Fairly straightforward, and the infestation rate is low. We shouldn't have any trouble rescuing the hostages here."
"Okay," Reynold replied, now understanding the contents of the screen. "How about the other mines?"
Saxton punched a couple of keys on the computer, and the screen showed another set of lines and numbers, more intricately drawn. He rotated the map to gain a better view, then said, "This is the second mine. It's more complex than the first, but its infestation rate is still fairly low." He punched up yet another screen. "And here's the third mine. This one will take some time, and it appears to be more heavily infested. The drones in this mine are more heavily armored and more dangerous. This is where I should be able to help you the most."
Reynold studied the map carefully, picking out key routes. Presently he said, "Okay. I'm ready for the next map."
"There isn't one," Saxton replied. "We'll have to explore that one for ourselves."
Reynold looked up, puzzled, then understood the gravity in Saxton's face. This could mean that nothing's survived an internal scan, he thought.
"I do have some information on the control center for these mines, however." Powell punched up another screen, showing a map of the control center. "This one appears to be a madman, one of our own. He waited until all the Comm channels were closed, then shot everyone down. He's the only one inside now."
Reynold studied the screen a little longer, then glanced back at the weapons expert. "Are we going to have to fish him out, too?" he asked.
"No," replied Saxton. "That's being taken care of. A separate security task force has locked down the control center so he can't escape or control any other mines. He still has control of M.O. Six's mines, however. We can't do anything with him until we get all the hostages out. The mines are hard-wired to self-destruct if the control center goes out."
"So, what we have to do, then, is rescue everyone, then destroy the control center?"
"I'm afraid so," Powell sighed. "It'll be a big loss for AACF, but we can't have madmen taking over the government's work." Just then, another frightening thought flashed through Reynold's mind: Could this guy blow up the control center himself? We'd be incinerated!
Before he could ask, though, the computer beeped and flashed a message: "Message for Lt. Cmdr. Saxton, Lt. Cmdr. Powell. Your ship is ready. Departure from Mining Outpost #2 in twenty minutes. You are authorized to board immediately."
"Hmpf," said Saxton. "Command must want us out of here in a real hurry. Come on, let's go." With that, he got up, folded up his computer, tucked it under his arm and walked out. Reynold followed, attempting to stifle the unsettling question in his mind. Within moments, they were looking at the outside of the ship again. It looked much larger with all of the advanced weaponry that had been installed - a set of quad-laser cannons, a machine-gun apparatus and several rocket launchers.
"Well, better get on board, Lt. Commander," said Saxton.
Powell and Reynold boarded together and sat in the two chairs in the command module. It felt slightly cramped compared to the openness of the single chair, but it was comfortable. The new equipment was much smaller and the empty space within the ship was greatly increased as a result. Reynold figured he had room for eight, maybe nine people other than himself and Powell. In addition, he noted the new readout on the central monitor: "Shields: Full, Inactive." He felt much more secure now.
Saxton was busy flipping through the weapons readouts. Without looking up at his companion, he said, "Looks like they gave us the very best! Quad-lasers, level four, proximity bombs, 10 homing missiles and 20 regular missiles. We also have a medium-power machine gun. We should be able to destroy just about anything in our path."
The central screen flashed: "Prepare for final launch sequence. T-minus one minute." This time, Reynold didn't feel at all uncomfortable. With all this power in his hands and someone who knew how to use it, he was confident they would succeed in their mission. But something still nagged in his mind: What about that madman? What would he do now that he's been discovered?

They were on their way again in no time. The gravity generator added to the relative comfort of their trip to Mining Outpost #6. One of them grabbed some sleep here and there while the other monitored the ship and its readouts for incoming messages. Their entire trip took about twenty-eight hours between the two outposts.
Upon arriving at the AACF freighter that had been set up outside the outpost's jurisdiction area, Powell opened the Comm channel to talk with the freighter's captain. "Freighter Captain: This is Lt. Commander Powell Saxton and Lt. Commander Reynold Foster."
"Lt. Commander Saxton, Foster," the voice of an elderly woman came over the channel. "This is Freighter Captain Geri Styles. Please state your business."
Reynold took over the comm. "Hostage rescue mission, sir. AACF Command Authorization Code Beta-gamma."
"You are cleared, Lt. Cmdr. Foster. Prepare for data transmission."
Within seconds, Reynold saw that the central screen was displaying information similar to the maps Powell had shown him earlier. The voice over the Comm continued: "These are your insertion points. You are to enter the mines here." The screen showed the points. "In mines One, Two and Three, all hostages are being held here." Corresponding dots appeared in various areas of the maps. "There is no data available for mine Four. Once all survivors have been rescued, you are to exit via the insertion point. After each mine, bring all survivors back to this freighter." With that, the Comm channel went dead.
"Hmm ... Must not have had enough coffee," Saxton commented.
Reynold was still studying the map. "You said that the first two mines weren't too heavily infested, right?" he asked.
"At last report. This data doesn't indicate much different," replied the weapons expert.
Reynold took a deep breath and said, "Well, I guess we'd better get started." With that, he directed the ship toward the first mine.

Upon entering the mine, the ship's systems automatically switched to combat mode. The weapons came online, the shields went up, and the lights in the cabin dimmed. The inside of the mine was fairly dim and regular in structure, and the corridors seemed to be just the right size for the ship. Powell looked around and tested the weapons on a couple of walls. He was pleased to see pieces of metal and rock fly in random directions. "Okay, ready to go," he said.
Powell was in charge of the weapons. He would be shooting the drones they came across while Reynold directed the ship. They quickly found the hostages and boarded them through the ship's airlocks, and were only hit twice. The ship suffered no damage.
Once they had recovered everyone, Reynold flew the ship back to the insertion point and exited quickly. With growing confidence, he said quickly, "Is that it? AACF Command made this seem like a really hard job!"
"Don't get cocky, Foster," Saxton reprimanded. "That was just the first mine. We still have three to go, and they do get harder."
The second mine went almost as easily as the first, and between the first two mines, a total of seven hostages were rescued. The reconnaissance probes showed that four miners had been lost in the two mines due to the technology attack. Now it was time for the third mine.

Unlike the first two mines, Powell and Foster found themselves under fire immediately upon insertion. Powell hurriedly destroyed the drones in front of him long enough to assess the damage. The ship itself had suffered no physical damage, but the shields had been reduced to seventy percent. Reynold kept the ship still for a moment, taking stock of the situation and calming himself down. "Whoa!" was the only thing he could say.
"My sentiments exactly," said Powell. "That madman must be on to us. We're going to have to watch our butts in here!" With that, they continued to explore the mine.
Now that they were prepared for the more advanced technology, Reynold and Powell had little difficulty locating the prisoners and destroying the drones that were guarding them. As they loaded the hostages - six in all - Reynold noticed that the ship was running low on energy. "Powell, we've got a problem," he said.
Powell looked over at the energy readout and said, "Oh, great! If we run out of energy, we'll be without weapons for the rest of this mine!" He was practically swearing. Just then, one of the rescued hostages came up and said, "I know where you can recharge the ship's energy. Follow my directions."
Reynold again took the ship's controls and piloted according to the man's directions. Up here, left there, go down about 40 meters, make a left, and so on, until they reached a gleaming hallway lined with energy distributors. "The mine's main fuel source. This is where the drones recharge. Just fly into it and hold there for a minute."
Reynold followed the miner's instructions. While he held the ship there, the energy readout slowly crept back toward full. Noting the reduced visibility in the area, Reynold asked, "Are there any other miners in here?"
"No," replied the refugee. "You got everyone. The drones rounded us up and kept us secured where you found us."
"So the guy has some compassion after all," Powell commented, scowling at the slowness with which the ship was refueling. "Man, this thing is taking forever, and we don't have ... Look out!" Powell tried to grab the weapons controls, but before he could, the ship was blasted out of position. Together, Powell and Reynold got the ship back under control long enough to analyze their assailant.
"Heavy-duty drone, Foster," Powell said. "He's shooting missiles, and he's heavily armored. You'll have to dodge him while I shoot." At that moment, another missile shot from the drone toward them. This time, Reynold was able to slide the ship out of the way. Powell fired, sending two guided missiles toward the robot. The first one hit, sending the drone spinning and trying to recover itself. Then the second one hit, and with a bright flash of fire, the drone exploded into pieces.
"Whew!" gasped everyone on board. "There's only one of those in this mine," added the miner that had helped them out earlier. "Let's finish recharging and get out of here!"
Reynold directed the ship back into the fuel area and held there for about three minutes, letting the ship recharge. He was surprised to find the shields augmenting themselves as well. By the time they were ready to go, everything was back to full power, and Reynold flew the ship back through the insertion point without incident.
Upon approaching the freighter, Captain Styles hailed them. "How many hostages did you rescue, guys?"
"Six, sir," Reynold replied with a sigh of relief, "out of six. Prepare to have us dock. We need a break." The docking hatch on the freighter opened, and Reynold slid the ship inside.

"I don't know if I can take another attack like that, Saxton," Reynold said over his cup of coffee. "This fourth mine is supposed to be much more difficult, and we don't even know if anyone's alive."
"That's just the point," replied the weapons expert, "We don't know. Are we going to give up and let someone who might be alive in there die? Or are we going to go in and try to pull them out? Be sensible, Foster."
"It's just ... " Reynold faltered, thinking again of his wife and kids. "I ... I don't want to die out here."
"Got family?" For the first time since Reynold met him, Powell's face softened, but only for an instant. But to Reynold, that one brief moment in time said everything: Powell had family too, and had left them behind for this mission. He felt the same way that Reynold did; he was just better at hiding it.
Powell was no longer looking at Reynold, but behind him. The lieutenant commander turned to see that the miner who had helped him was approaching. He was dressed in the standard AACF worker's uniform - a drab gray with blue lining - and was wearing a bandage on his right hand.
"I'm not sure if you noticed this or not," he said, holding up his injured hand, "but when we got hit, I rammed it against the corner of your chair. Hurt a bit."
"I imagine it did," said Powell. "Sit down."
"Thanks. I came by to tell you that I would like to go into the fourth mine with you." Powell and Reynold exchanged glances, and Reynold was about to speak against it when the miner continued: "You see, I usually work in that mine, so I know where everything is. I understand that you don't have a map of the area."
"That is true," said Powell thoughtfully. "But it's much too dangerous. After nearly getting destroyed by that missile, who knows what to expect?"
"Come on, man," retorted the miner. "If I can't help you out in there, you'd spend days just trying to figure out where you're going! Just because I'm not a top-ranking officer like you guys!"
Reynold reached out to calm down his guest. "Quite frankly, I think your help would be very useful. We won't have a place for you to sit, but you can definitely help us out."
Powell frowned again, but assented to the idea. Just then, a woman of about forty-five came in. "Time's up, boys. We need you in that fourth mine now." Reynold recognized her voice as that of Captain Styles, and replied: "Yes sir!" All three men got up and left for the docking hatch. Captain Styles stopped the miner. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked.
"I'm going in with Saxton and Foster, sir," he replied.
"You are? Who authorized you?"
"No one, sir. I know the mine, sir, and they need me in there."
"This okay with you guys?" she asked the other two.
"Yeah, just fine," Powell grumbled. Reynold nodded in a more cheerful affirmation.
"Okay. On your way, gentlemen." With that, Captain Styles turned and walked out of the parlor.

"Okay, there's the insertion point. Be careful. This mine has the capability of reproducing drones." The miner was leaning carefully forward on the chairs in the command module. "How many of them are rocket launchers?" Powell asked.
"Not too many, but they're all guided. Also, there were eight people in here when the bots attacked. I figure those who're still alive are all in the same place."
"Okay. Here we go." Reynold directed the ship through the portal. Powell quickly scanned for drones but found none in the immediate vicinity. However, as soon as they rounded the first corner they were attacked by a large group of small robots. They weren't much of a threat, and were quickly destroyed.
"Okay, follow the trail of small drones," said the miner. "That's most likely where the hostages are being held."
Powell seemed to be having fun shooting up all of the mouse-sized threats that kept appearing in front of him. Reynold maintained a steady hand on the throttle, stopping, sliding and pitching with the nearly-expert skill the previous mines had afforded him. He glanced at the shield rating, which had dropped significantly since their entry.
"Uh, Powell," he said, pointing to the readout. "Our shields are dropping again."
"No worry," said the miner. "Up ahead are the hostages!" He pointed with his injured hand, and sure enough, all eight of the hostages were standing huddled together directly ahead of them. They were being guarded by several large, vicious-looking robots, one of which had an energy field around it.
"Great," Powell muttered. "Low on shields, eight survivors and three missile launchers. I think I'll go home now." Nevertheless, he began shooting a full salvo of missiles and lasers at the robots. One of them buckled immediately, careening harmlessly into a wall. The other unprotected drone shot a missile at the ship, and Reynold was unable to dodge it in time. The ship shook, and sirens blared everywhere. "Danger, shields low! Danger, shields low!" the computer repeated.
Powell kept firing. He was running out of energy for the lasers, so he switched to the vulcan gun. The second drone exploded, sending pieces of shrapnel flying every direction. The hostages had run toward the far wall where the first robot fell apart. They managed to escape being hit.
Reynold backed up a little bit to give some room between his ship and the third drone. The energy field around his opponent made it appear that it was encased in a sphere of solid glass, yet it moved with ease.
Just then, Powell spoke up. "We can't destroy him here. He's strong, but he's stupid. If we set down and rescue the hostages, we can ward off his weapons."
"What kind of weapons does he have?" Reynold asked tensely.
"Slow-moving guided missiles. They're big and clumsy at short range, but they get faster and harder to hit after they've been moving for a while. And he can't fire more than twice a minute."
"Okay, then," Reynold started to say. He was interrupted by Powell's sudden action. He fired the lasers and watched a missile explode in front of them.
"One down, and it's going to take him a while to get the next one ready. Set down near the hostages. Let's get them on board."
Reynold moved around the drone, watching it closely for signs that it might be ready to fire at them again. At this range, he thought, he'd blow us up if he fired now!
He set the ship down in front of the hostages and opened the airlock. They all quickly got on board, and the airlock was secured again in no time. Just then, an alarm sounded, indicating that the ship had been locked on to by another missile. Powell aimed and fired, but the missile continued toward them. The ship shook even more violently than it did last time. The sirens sounded again, sparks flew, and the cabin filled with smoke.
"We're hit!" yelled Reynold. "Shields are down to five percent! We can't take another one!"
"Get outta here!" Powell yelled back. He tried to fire a retaliation shot at the drone, but found that the weapons had gone offline. He switched to missiles and the vulcan gun. Nothing. "Crap! No weapons!" he cursed.
The miner picked himself up off the floor and found the source of the smoke. He pulled the ship's fire extinguisher out of its compartment and put out the fire. The environmental control systems quickly cleared the air, and Reynold could see again. He turned the ship around and began heading back out where he came in. He flew at full speed toward the exit, which was a long way away.
The drone fired another missile at its prey. The missile immediately found its target and locked on, and the alarm in the ship sounded again. "Oh no! The thing's got us again!" gasped Reynold.
"Keep going! We're almost out!" replied Powell. But he was afraid too. He knew that the missile was closing in on them fast. The computer flashed a screen, showing the ship, the exit and the missile all at once. Powell could see from this screen that they would be hit at almost exactly the same time as they exited.
All grew quiet in the ship. The only sound remaining was the roar of the engines as they struggled to keep accelerating out of the mine. Reynold let go of the controls and leaned forward, with his hands behind his head, bracing himself for the worst. Powell and all the miners on the ship did the same. Reynold closed his eyes, heard the loud grating explosion, felt the sparks fly and felt the ship shake ...

"Foster? Foster!"
Reynold felt a hand shake his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked around. It was dark, and a heavy smoke filled the cabin, but they were alive! He looked over at Powell. "We survived! I don't know how we did it, but we survived!" Powell was ecstatic.
Before he had fully come to his senses, Reynold heard muffled groans from the rear of the ship. He looked back to see the rescued hostages all lying in a heap. Some were unconscious, but most were beginning to get up and shake their heads. Reynold looked back at Powell, then suddenly gave a loud cheer. "We made it! I don't believe it!" he shouted.
"Saxton and Foster, are you all right?" came Captain Styles's voice. The emergency channel had been activated automatically.
"We're still here, Captain," said Powell. He looked back at Reynold, then continued, "By the look of things, I'd say we're fine. Can't move, though. This ship's just about had it."
"Okay. You got everyone?"
Powell took a quick head count of the rescued miners. One, two, five, eight, plus the one we brought on board with us. "Yes, everyone's here, and alive. Expect some injuries."
"All right, then. Stand by for us. We're coming to pick you up, and once we're out of here, AACF's heavy artillery will come in and blast this place out."
"Roger, Captain. Lt. Cmdr. Powell Saxton out." The Comm line stayed open, filled with static. Saxton looked at his comrade.
"Good work, Lieutenant Commander," he said.
"Thanks," Reynold said, then suddenly broke down in tears. "My God, we made it!" he said again.
"Yes, we did. Thanks to you, we saved about twenty people. Good job."
"Yeah ... " Reynold's mind drifted off into space. Soon, he was asleep, exhausted from the terrifying work he had just done. He found himself dreaming pleasantly of his wife and children, comforted by the fact he knew now that he would return to them ...

After a while, I figured "Maybe I should send a copy of this to Interplay. I wonder what they'll think." At the time, I didn't know just what role Parallax Software had played in making Descent (turns out they actually MADE the thing). Within a week of sending them a copy, they posted it up on their site! You may have difficulty finding it there now, but the story has been mirrored a few other places on the web as well. :)

Descent is a registered trademark of Interplay Productions and is protected under national copyright law.
The Interplay Logo and the green robot are copyrighted by Interplay Productions.

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