Chapter Sixteen - Flight of the Phoenix
“Damn it!”
“I’m sorry, Jak.”
“It’s not your fault. I’ll see what I can do to get us out of here.”
Jak let the ship coast along toward the outer edge of the nebula. The scene before him became darker and darker, until he could again make out the points of star light.
“Can you still manoeuvre?” asked Baxter.
Jak moved the flight stick.
“Yep. The ship still moves, it’s just incredibly slow and sluggish.”
After fully exiting the nebula, he made a slow turn back to face it, expecting Murdock to spring out at any moment.
“Jak, he’s out of the nebula. I’m getting a reading on him on the other side.”
Jak dragged the ship up to the head of the gaseous cloud near the great horns.
The communications light came on, indicating an incoming call. Jak activated the radio.
Murdock’s patronizing voice crackled over the half-destroyed radio system. “Unfortunately, I can’t help but be a little impressed, Jak. I figured I would have had you in sixty seconds or less.”
“Well that’s because you’re an idiot,” said Jak.
Jak spotted the dot of Murdock’s ship ahead of them, on the opposing side of the glowing plasma, out of normal weapons range. He was behind the massive Devil’s Horn on the opposite side of the nebula, on course to pass through it.
Jak was positioned to take the Tempest through the horn on his side, with the ships lined up to meet somewhere in the normal plasma-free space, above the formation, between the peaks.
“Even so, Jak, the next time we—”
Jak muted the microphone and ignored the rest of Murdock’s frivolous dialog.
“He’s gonna run,” said Jak, eagerly reviewing his console in hopes some plan would appear to him. “He doesn’t realize our engines are screwed.”
“You can’t let him get out of here,” said Cyan from behind Jak. She was winded from her run back up from the engine room. “We have no way of tracking him. If he gets out of here it’ll be ages before we figure out where he is. By that time the tablets will be gone.”
“Thanks, but I’m fairly clear on the situation.”
“Well, haven’t you got a plan?”
“We don’t exactly have a lot of options here, honey,” said Jak. He should have locked the cockpit door before she came back up.
“Alright, everyone shut up,” said Baxter. It wasn’t an angry tone; he just seemed to need some room to concentrate. “I’ve got an idea.”
“What is it?” Cyan was enthusiastic for any suggestions.
“It’s incredibly dangerous and the results could be catastrophic.”
“Sounds like our kind of plan,” said Jak.
“We might not make it out alive.”
“Definitely our kind of plan,” said Jak, with a twinkle in his eye. “And, as usual we’ve got really nothing to lose.”
“Okay, then we need to dump the engine plasma when we pass through the horn of the nebula.”
“What?” asked Cyan. “If you dump the plasma it will be hours before we can recharge the engines.”
“They don’t work anyway, so we’ll have plenty of time to kill,” said Baxter.
“Wait,” said Jak. “What happens when we dump the plasma?”
“The nebula should go haywire and light up like a supernova.”
“How is this a good plan?” said Cyan. She was getting impatient.
Murdock was still blathering over the intercom as he drifted leisurely into the horned formation. The Tempest also passed into the bright spike.
“The reaction will create a huge electron disturbance that will knock out the electronics on both our ships.”
“Both? What good will it do if we’re both disabled?”
“Actually, that’s where I get a little foggy,” said Baxter as his confidence collapsed.
“No, I’ve got that part,” said Jak. He checked a few gauges one last time and got up from his chair. “I need you to prepare for the plasma dump, Bax. Cyan, I need you to do the manual release.”
She could feel his intensity and for the first time his seriousness, and neglected to do anything but cooperate.
“We’re running out of time,” said Baxter. “Once he passes through it, he’s gone. It’ll only work if he’s actually inside still. We’re both inside so we need to do it, like right now.”
“I’ve gotta go do something in the back,” said Jak, “so I’ll need you to watch the controls. It is absolutely imperative that you keep the ship dead on with Murdock’s. We need to coast no more than a couple of meters right under his ship. It’s gonna be close, and you won’t be able to change your trajectory once the ship goes dead, so line it up now.”
Jak didn’t wait for a response before running full tilt toward the back of the ship.
Cyan followed and headed toward the plasma discharge port.
Through the ship’s intercom system everyone could hear what the other was saying and doing.
First, Jak tore through a pile of garbage before finding what he was looking for. He dug out the box that Rusty had given him at the station and pulled out one of the small old fashioned homing beacons. He chose the one with the least bent antenna. Jak activated the little black device and switched it off after the light came on. It seemed to be working.
He raced to another storage room and dragged everything out of the closet area. He dragged his worn protective space suit out of the pile and threw it over his shoulder. He hunted around for a few necessary bits and pieces and grabbed his scratched and well used helmet off the top shelf. After attempting to close the doors through the piles of clutter he gave up and raced to Cyan.
As he arrived, Cyan was just opening the corroded valve in sync with Baxter’s working of the necessary system controls in the cockpit. After the plasma rushed out of the system and the alarms that Baxter couldn’t figure out how to disable sounded, a flash of red filled the room they were in, even though it lacked windows. Jak wished he had been able to see the temporary catastrophe they had created outside.
They felt a sensation, which seemed like an extreme static discharge, pass through their bodies. It was painful, but not debilitating. The lights on the ship flickered and died along with the sound of machinery hum. All was quiet and all was dark.
It took a few seconds for the battery powered backup lights to come on and send their eerie glow through the hallways. They were lit at less than half the intensity they usually shone at, making it extremely difficult to see.
“You okay, Bax?” shouted Jak.
With the intercom dead, he vaguely heard Baxter say something in response. He couldn’t make out exactly what it was, but the fact that he said anything at all at least meant he wasn’t dead.
Jak rushed and struggled to pull the beige protective suit over his feet and up his legs. He felt Cyan’s hands on his upper back as she tried to help stabilize him from tipping over while he performed the awkward task.
“You aren’t really going to do what it looks like you’re doing, are you?”
“Sorry, but this is honestly the best thing I can come up with right now.”
She looked worried. He wondered how she’d act around him and what she’d think of him if he got out of it alive.
Jak hoped she was not the reason he had decided to throw himself out into the killing vacuum of space, near a scary red nebula. Revenge. Yes, revenge against Murdock would be the official reason.
He worked his fastest at zipping up the boots and attaching his gloves. Jak realized there would be no time to fill and prepare an oxygen tank. He would have to hold his breath.
He dragged Cyan with him back to the cockpit. Jak saw Murdock’s quiet and darkened ship floating toward them. Both ships were knocked out as expected and now floating in the safe gas and particle free area above the Devil’s Horn Nebula.
The two spacecrafts were still coasting toward each other
from the force of their momentum.
“Course looks good,” said Jak.
Baxter turned to see Jak, looking up and down and absorbing his new appearance in the space suit.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He patted Baxter on the shoulder, turned, and jogged back out of the cockpit with Cyan in tow. It was going to be close.
In the center area of the ship he grabbed on to a steel ladder and then turned to face Cyan.
“I need you to stay right here. When you hear me knock on that door above us, open it.”
She nodded.
“Don’t open it any sooner, because if I have the air lock above it open when you do, that’s it for all of us. Got it?”
Cyan nodded again. She clearly didn’t even know what to say.
Jak went over the few safety precautions he could actually remember in his head.
“Damn it!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I need a rope or something.” He had neglected to pick up anything to secure himself to the craft.
“Hold on.”
Cyan disappeared around the corner and Jak started to panic. It was taking too long. The ship would almost be overhead by now.
Cyan quickly reappeared and thrust a coil of the cable they had used to charge up Dodge’s ship.
“Good thing you didn’t put it away and left it lying on the floor,” she said.
“See, my organization system does work.”
They both shared a warm smile which was heartfelt, maybe only because it could very well be their last.
Jak put down the coil of wire and lowered the old helmet with its tinted glass visor over his head. After the magnetic seal on the collar ring connected, he made a few fast adjustments.
“Good luck,” she said.
Jak nodded and scaled the ladder with one hand on the rungs and one hand around the coil of wire.
He turned a dial and forced back the door of the first pressure seal in the ceiling.
Inside the tiny pressure buffer room he closed the door below him and rushed to find a solution for the cabling.
Time must be running out. Would Murdock’s ship already be past them?
The dull emergency light in the room barely gave him enough light to see. He realized if he looked right at the bulb, his eyes would get accustomed to the light and everything would seem even darker.
He slipped the free end of the cord through a metal ring on the wall. The coil sat on the floor and would freely pass through the loop. Jak prayed that the end was tied onto the iron spindle.
He made a quick knot around the belt on his suit, and then tugged it to be confident. On his forearm control panel, he pressed the button that sealed the suit. Before it hissed in its pressurization procedure, he took one last deep breath.
Jak reached above his head and forced around the thick wheel to release the airlock. When the wheel didn’t want to give he had to try and prevent himself from panicking. He couldn’t afford to get worked up with the lack of any life support beside a lungful of oxygen.
The door wheel finally gave and Jak immediately felt the effect of the air being sucked out of the room. It tugged at his chest and squeezed at his head all at the same time.
Up the ladder he continued, until his head poked out into the blackness of space.
The first thing he noticed was the poor condition of the top of the Tempest. It definitely needed some attention.
Next he noticed that Murdock’s ship had not yet come exactly over him. He needed to duck down. If Murdock saw him out there, he’d know right away that something was amiss, and Jak wanted him to think everything had gone smoothly and that he had gotten way free and clear.
Jak stayed down at about eye level with the ship’s hull to avoid detection. Murdock was approaching quickly, but Jak wasn’t sure it was quick enough.
How long could he hold his breath? The more he thought of it, the more he felt the need to breathe. Best to put that tidbit out of his mind until further notice.
Murdock’s ship was too far above. They had come close, but the nearer it came, the more Jak could see that they were coming in a little lower than he had hoped for. They were perfectly in line, but too far below. Would the cable be long enough to reach it? He would have to take the chance.
The ship grew larger and larger.
Now was his chance.
When the timing felt right, Jak climbed to the top of the ladder and kicked off the edge, sailing quickly off the safe and protective cushion of the ship and into the crushing cold of outer space.
As the coil in the ship unwound and extracted through the metal loop in the bay, Jak rose quickly.
He had time to realize what he was doing and begin to doubt his outrageous plan. What the hell was he doing? Jumping off his ship! Dodge could never know about this.
He pulled the homing beacon out of his pocket as he climbed and activated it.
It was going to be ridiculously close.
He was almost there.
His timing had been perfect. He was rising at a perfect angle that would allow him to meet the ship when it was directly above them.
When Jak started to believe his plan would work, the coil on the other end of his cable came to its end. He was jolted hard as his ride was cut short about two feet from the underbelly of the target.
He stretched his arm out as far as he could in an effort to get as close as possible. His only chance was to throw it.
He tossed the homing beacon upward, trying to keep it lined up so the magnetic bottom was the first surface that would come in contact with the hull.
It started to drift at a slight angle as it rose toward the ship. His throw hadn’t been good enough.
He stared intently at the homing beacon as it came in contact with the ship at an angle.
He couldn’t breathe, but refused to look away as if he could control the outcome with his eyes.
The beacon rolled in an oblong shaped path on the edge of its circular base before it settled down and the magnet grasped on to the ship.
Jak watched the little antenna hanging off the bottom of the ship as it passed completely over him.
Now he needed to breathe.
When he looked down toward the Tempest, he realized he was very far away. The cable had allowed him to come out much further than he had expected.
He flipped himself end over end and grabbed on to the thick cable, pulling himself hand over hand, back toward the ship.
He had little energy or time to admire the sights but couldn’t help acknowledging the makeup of the scenery around him. Above him (which was now behind him) was black space. In front of him was their small grey ship looking helpless against the massive sparkling red nebula below him. It shimmered and twinkled, seemingly unaffected by their stunt. Off to the left he saw the Devil’s Horn they had just flown through, which had somehow become so instrumental in the plan.
To his right he noticed the far larger and far closer horn. He hadn’t thought about that. The ship’s momentum was still dragging him toward it. What would happen if a person went inside that glowing mass without the protection of a spacecraft? He didn’t care to find out.
He sped up his pace along the life line, pulling himself back to the comfort of the ship.
He tried everything he could to stop thinking about breathing. He tried thinking about something else, but the thoughts generally steered to some kind of death experience which made his heart rate quicken and his need for air more dire.
He was almost there, but the ship was getting blurry.
His chest was burning and his head was pounding.
He couldn’t help but take a breath.
It would have been his death if not for the miniscule amount of air left in his helmet. It mixed with his expelled poisonous air and gave him one last emergency breath he hadn’t considered.
Still, the stale air did little to help his condition. The closer he dragged himself toward
the ship, the blurrier the ship’s image became.
He only knew he had reached the ship because he felt the hard steel when his hand bumped into it.
Disoriented and clumsy, he struggled to pull himself through the porthole.
One real breath was all he needed. If he could just figure out how to close the hatch, everything would be okay.
He worked his way onto the ladder and tried in his blindness to spin the hatch lock. Twice he thought he had it, but when he pushed up on the cover it opened again.
Jak tried again. He could feel himself passing out. He had to get the door closed first. He turned the unseen handle and pushed up. The door was locked.
He stumbled and floated off the ladder, further disorienting himself.
He was starting to panic. He couldn’t see and he was nearly unconscious.
Kicking and clawing at whatever he caught on to, he made his way down. He hoped he had not gone up instead.
It felt like nearly drowning in water, when you become delirious and cannot figure out if you are swimming down deeper or up toward the surface.
If he had gone the wrong way and floated back to the top hatch, he was dead.
He felt around for what he prayed was the floor hatchway and tried with his last ounce of energy to make some kind of noise on the door.
He vaguely remembered a sensation of falling.
Was it the lack of oxygen to his brain creating random sensations?
Jak also felt something ripping at his helmet, but had no energy left to prevent it.
He felt an extreme burning in his chest. He thought it was the result of his lungs failing until he realized that he had taken several deep breaths.