Chapter 56: Docking

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The first clue that they were drawing near to the enemy ship was a shift in sound from the shuttle’s engines, as the high pitched hum that had whistled in their ears for the last 40 minutes downshifted a few octaves into a lower rumble that could be felt through the walls of the vessel.

Crushed inside the lockers, in total darkness, the women could hear and feel every small correction as Cymon manoeuvred the shuttle through the hangar doors and into the belly of the ship. A series of short power-bursts - then a heavier impact - signalled final contact with the hangar deck, confirmed by the dying whine of the engines, then - silence.

Laura had never been so terrified. Her heart beat fast and blood rushed in her ears as the silence seemed to last an age. Then she heard a rumble as the shuttle’s rear ramp lowered, followed by the sound of boots on metal as - she guessed - several aliens came on board. She could make out Cymon’s voice and other, harder voices replying.

This was the moment. If the enemy suspected that others might be hidden on the shuttle, now was when they’d search. She held her breath, squeezing her hand tightly around the alien weapon between her knees. Then the sound of boots on metal came again - and gradually receded into the distance.

All was quiet now on board the shuttle. Laura forced herself to count up to to two minutes then whispered into her helmet mike.

“Misha? Are you there? Are you OK?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

“Not sure I’ll ever stand straight again, but otherwise alright.”

“Listen Laura,” said Amisha, “you sit tight while I get out first. No sense both of us exposing ourselves.”

“OK. Be careful.”

Laura heard the sound of the opposite locker opening, then a scrape and a light thud as Amisha dropped to the shuttle’s deck. There was a pause and, once again, Laura held her breath. Had Amisha been seen? A moment later light flooded into her locker and she could see Amisha below, smiling through the faceplate of her helmet. With a groan, she eased the alien weapon from between her legs and handed it out. As she slid her legs out Amisha caught hold of them, then Laura rolled over the locker’s edge  as Amisha helped her to the deck.

“Remind me not to fly this airline again,” said Laura, “from now on, it’s First Class, every time.”

Both women crouched low and moved slowly towards the top of the ramp. There were no aliens to be seen: the hangar deck appeared deserted. Laura looked at Amisha and nodded. Slowly, the two women began to move down the ramp looking left and right for any sign of movement, weapons ready. Ahead, just as on the ship they’d left, there were two hatchways that led into the central core. If these were locked, they were sunk.

They reached the nearest and Amisha swiped her hand over the keypad. It hissed open immediately. The two women looked at each other with matching smiles of relief.

“Ready?” said Amisha - and they stepped into the main walkway, swinging left and right to check in both directions. There was nobody in sight in either direction.

“Let’s go,” said Amisha and they began to trot as quickly as their suits would allow towards the point where the ship’s central axis intersected the smaller of its two wheels. They had covered less than 10 metres when, without warning, they felt the floor shudder beneath their boots, causing them to stagger. A moment later the sound of a dull roar penetrated their helmets.

“What was that?” gasped Laura.

“I’m not sure,” said Amisha, “if I didn’t know better I’d say it felt very much like an explosion. Come on, we have to keep going.”

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