The Mission

[Tabor Nansk 0]

It was time. Weeks of anguish had led up to this moment. Tabor left his quarters and walked quietly down the dimly lit passageway, well aware that midway through the night shift he probably wouldn’t encounter any other crew. At the junction of an adjoining corridor, he opened the access panel to a maintenance shaft, crawled inside and pulled the hatch closed behind him. Moving ahead on hands and knees, he came to a vertical ladder and climbed two decks down. Here was the first hurdle: he had no way of knowing if anyone was on the other side of the access panel to the cargo deck. Tabor pressed his ear against the panel and listened. Nothing. Taking a deep breath, he toggled the latch and opened the door into the passageway. No one. So far, so good. Quickly climbing out of the Jeffries tube and re-securing the hatch, he continued to Cargo Bay 3. He couldn’t just enter the bay, there would be a security trace if he used the door. But the maintenance plans he’d studied showed a ventilation inspection shaft five meters down the passageway. As with most basic maintenance access points, it was unlocked and unmonitored by Bridge security. Once inside, it was simply a matter of locating the corresponding hatch on the cargo bay’s side. The final resupply teams had finished loading, for the most part, earlier in the day so again the odds of running into someone was remote. Tabor slipped unnoticed into the cargo bay. He headed directly for the umbilical connecting the Reaent’s bay with the station’s loading dock. His clothing was a yellow coverall, the type worn by the stations workers. He’d purloined one a few days before while supervising replacement parts for the ship’s fighters. Tabor thought of his comm badge lying on the night stand in his quarters. When they instigated a search for him, the computer would dutifully report him in his quarters. By the time Security discovered the deception, the Reaent would be too far out to make a return feasible. And without a comm badge/ID, station security wouldn’t even “see” him without a very time consuming search.

 

With only a moment’s hesitation, Tabor stepped through the umbilical and onto the station. This was the riskiest part of his plan. He only had a rudimentary schematic of the station’s passageways and maintenance corridors. He didn’t want to risk an in-depth computer search of those records. Too much chance of drawing attention down upon himself. But the essential part of his plan was simply to disappear for a few hours. Yes, he’d have to deal with the consequences later, but that would be later. Even at this early hour, the station’s cargo bay was fairly busy. It wasn’t hard to blend in with the workers coming and going and Tabor joined the flow of bodies exiting the bay. He discreetly wandered for a while, finally coming upon a dining commons. The build-up of adrenaline had made him hungry and he ordered a ham sandwich and a fruit juice from the replicator. The dining facility was on an outer ring of the station with viewing windows along the back wall. Tabor took his food and settled into a table in the back of the room. As luck would have it, he could gaze upon the docking arms of the station’s gigantic interior. At the bottom right corner of the window, he could see the Reaent, hanging from her docking arm like a Christmas ornament. The various umbilicals were still attached to the ship - departure time was still hours away. The clock on the wall seemed to go into slow motion as the minutes and hours clawed their way into the morning watch. Tabor nibbled his sandwich, trying to make it last, trying to look inconspicuous. After an eternity, Tabor saw the umbilicals disengage from the ship and the docking clamps release. The Reaent floated slightly downward, then sideways as the maneuvering thrusters eased her away from her dock. With agonizing slowness, the ship headed for the great space door in the station’s outer wall. Tabor realized that he was holding his breath, knowing that once clear of the station, the Reaent’s impulse engines would fire, taking her out to the required distance to safely engage the warp drive. He wouldn’t see the flash of the warp field, but he could imagine it. He checked his own watch. Any minute now, the ship would be gone and he would be stranded on the station. Then there would be hell to pay. Setting the remains of his meal aside, Tabor waited another ten minutes, just to be sure, then left the dining room. The Reaent was gone and for all intents and purposes, he was alone on the station. He found a site plan display on a passageway wall, located his position and keyed in a request. “Computer, show me the Station Security office.” The display promptly drew a purple line guiding him up a number of decks and terminating at the appropriate destination. He thought “terminating” was an interesting choice of words for him to think of. Probably very prophetic.

 

A distinct “clunk” and slight shudder aroused him from his sleep. The umbilicals had disengaged. Tabor sat up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. The Reaent was departing for the Neutral Zone.