Would her tiny bubble remain intact when it impacted with the huge warp field enclosure encasing the dreadnaught? If it collapsed, she would encounter not only the immense forces of the warp drive, she would experience an instant shift in velocity, from zero to nearly the speed of light. That would mean, like that creepy science guy had said 3 or 4 years ago, that would mean being torn into atomic bits.
Everyone, including Para, had just assumed she could control the warp field interactions. She hadn’t dwelled on the subject. How much time does one spend contemplating forces that are beyond our understanding? But now, questions rose as the assumptions fell away. Even if her protective bubble survived contact, how would she merge, bubble to bubble, in order to release the transponder? As her bubble impacted, even Para wasn’t satisfied with her answer. It’s really not a cognitive process, it’s more feeling your way around. She willed her bubble to... remain.
Still alive. Para pulled out the tube-stick container that held the InnerEar transponder. The tracking unit itself was too small to see. All those engineers had assured her, as long as she released it inside the dreadnaught’s bubble, the device would quantum leap and cling to the hull of the ship. Something to do with positive and negative charges, or some similar quantum property.
There was a defined area where her bubble had anchored to the larger dreadnaught bubble. There would be a thin spot between the anomalous veils. Para gently pressed the container through the bubble intersection. There was a momentary feeling of distortion, as though she was reaching and stretching toward the infinite. She recalled being in a house of mirrors with her image displayed on and on, though this was more felt than seen. Then the dreadnaught warp bubble collapsed.
What about the ship’s drive? Was she still concealed within the turbulent wake? Or was she trapped once again by her enemy, imprisoned within the energetic shielding of the dreadnaught?
Para was still in her bubble but was moving away from the ship, accelerating as waves of energy pushed at her. The dreadnaught was intact, the drive still operating. She was still concealed in the ship’s wake as it moved slowly in normal space, the crew likely running diagnostics. Her actions must have caused an emergency shut-down of the warp field. Or set off an alert, causing the crew to bubble-off.
With the ship barely moving she would surely be detected when she slipped out of the drive stream. Para took a deep breath and concentrated, trying to slow the motion of her exiting bubble. But she was so tired. The mission was clearly in jeopardy.
Para knew from the Resistance, the Empire had ways to make people talk. Or, even the stealthy InnerEar transponder could be located in the event of a thorough search.
The weakening drive force signaled her exit from the concealing waves. But Para found she couldn’t even hold against the minimal gravitational wake. Her bubble collapsed. If she did nothing, the enemy would see her blazing thermal image against the cold background of space. She longed for the external liquid helium cooling system that had been added to her original vac-suit, but been lost to the amber prison.
When inverted, Para could handle harsh environments for a time, even the cold of deep space. Could she vent her suit and let in the piercing cold of deep space to hide her body heat? No, it would take too long to cool down for normal body temperature, even in the deep freeze of space. An overcomer. There was only one option, a choice that frightened her. But it was the only way.
Para had always been cautious when inverting. As her density increased, to maintain her form it was necessary for her mass to increase as well. Her weight increased with mass. If a person wasn’t careful, they could crash through a floor. The memory of crashing through the floor at home came, unbidden. Para knew there was also a relationship between density and temperature.
She closed her eyes and pulled deep from the quantum realm, manipulating the Higgs field, drawing more and more power from the forces of quark and gluon interactions. Para became super-dense, very cold, not exactly alive, not exactly dead.
***
Rock and Viz were frantic. The dreadnaught had slipped away after a series of evasive maneuvers. There were no QuIM signals from the InnerEar transponder, or from Para’s personal unit. So much time had passed. Perhaps enough time had passed to allow energetic scanning, assuming the dreadnaught had continued on at maximum cruising speed. Viz was considering the scan when an abrupt sound caused her to jump.
The InnerEar transponder finally activated with a chirp. That would at least narrow the search grid. The dreadnaught was moving at cruising speed, but Rock pointed out it was much closer than would be expected. It must have slowed for a time. What could that mean? Why had Para not activated her QuIM beacon so they could find her? They ported back to base to dump the search data from their Logan, charge their vac-suits, and see what help might be available.
Tee had already sent out an emergency call. Port-techs had responded immediately to the call for aid. Each was assigned a search zone and jumped out into the night to find Para. At that point, enough time had passed to allow low power scanning without alerting the Empire fleet to the search. Rock decided to grab a fresh Logan and went in search of Viz.
He found her in the small conference room with her head down.
“Are you okay, Viz?
“It’s hard. We have to find her, Rock.”
“Praying?”
“Of course. Ready to go back out?”
“Ready. We’ll find her.”
“I know.”
Viz sealed her helmet, closed her eyes to help with the port disorientation, and held out her hand to Rock. Her eyes opened to the blackness of space. So many stars, so little light. Where are you Para?
***
Para regained consciousness ever so slowly. Her senses started to respond. Hearing. There was an emergency alarm chirping. The smell of stale air and the tactile sensation of her suit. It was hard to swallow. Where’s my tongue?
Her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth. She tried to take a sip of water. Nothing. Para laughed hysterically. Would she even know if hypoxia had taken hold? She laughed again. Her eyes opened. There was still oxygen in the tank, though her pulse oximeter reading was low. The water was frozen. Para was feeling a bit frozen herself. She told her suit to raise the temperature. Cold water leaked into her suit; the water tube must have frozen and burst. She was so thirsty. Something else nagged at her. She was forgetting something.
Her QuIM-beacon! She wrenched the knob. Keep looking for me guys!
***
There! Viz punched at Rock and showed him the Logan reading, with Para’s QuIM signal pinging bright and clear. Another Logan registered the signal.
Rock and I ported to Para, who didn’t seem terribly concerned. “Hey guys, what took you? It was starting to get a little lonely out here.”
I was frantic. We had been searching for hours. “Para, are you okay? We were looking all over for you! You were so hard to find.”
Para sounded a little hoarse. “Been here the whole time. Can we go home now? I’m a little thirsty.”
We ported home hoping for a little rest before we reported our mission success to the Solcom officer in charge. Para drank a gallon of water. I’m pretty sure it was an entire gallon of water. But she said she didn’t need any medical attention. We were notified of a standing call to report immediately upon our return, to the admiral, the one in charge of the Space Force.
Roll had been ordered to Madigan for an immediate and thorough examination of his wound. Someone had been paying attention to the mission download reports. He tried to brush off the exam, explaining that the wound had already healed without so much as a scar. All he had left was the memory, and a slightly used transparent wound covering. That prompted a good deal of excitement, a direct order to bring the covering to the exam, and a firm suggestion to give his consent for a variety of medical techs and scientists to participate in his upcoming exam.
I asked Rock and Para if I might skip out on the meeting with the admiral
, since I had missed out on the first one. They said that was okay, I should go enjoy a little me-time. The chase all over space looking for Para really had been hard on me, as was clear from my demeanor, which was quite the opposite of her cheery tone. A cheery tone and a suggestion the whole mission had been easy-peasy.
Para looked fine, with a ruddy glow about her as though she had spent a day at the renewal-spa. I could hardly wait to get the recordings, to see what had really happened out there. A quick hug, and they were off to see the admiral.
Anyway, I did take some me-time while they went off to see the admiral, the wonderful admiral of Solcom.
The wonderful admiral of Solcom? I definitely need a cat nap before heading to the team meeting. No. No, I’m going to see this story through to the end.
Albert, coffee, straight-up.
The admiral was standing behind his desk, arms folded, as Para and Rock were ushered into his office. “Congratulations on your success. Where’s my bird?”
Para decided the best option would be to just look at Rock, who frowned at her, then assumed the look of someone facing the gallows. “Sorry, sir, an Empire ship burned it.”
The admiral made a fist and punched his other hand. “Dang. Oh well. I’m told more S3s are in the works. Upgraded models. Brand new warp technology. With that, good job you two! We’ll look into commendations for the entire team. You are dismissed.”
Rock and Roll made light of the commendation, but they sure took an interest in the brand-new space capsule replication that was delivered two weeks later, with an official Space Force seal and everything. Well, everything except an actual fusion drive or railgun. Otherwise, it was perfect.
It took some doing, but I finally got my hands on the recordings from Para’s time lost in space. Tee had sprung for the latest quBID mission processors for all our suits. That was before they were banned as being too much an invasion of privacy. Imagine that. Who wouldn’t want to have all their thoughts and emotions on display, brain interface device to quantum computer?
The quBID never bothered me, as mine was removed before it had a chance to record anything. Odd that the processor had several unlikely systemic failures in a row. I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me to find Para found a way to erase most of her quBID recordings.
What really happened out there, Para?
And here’s Para coming to get me. It must be team meeting time. Hi, Para. No, I’m done with the Journal catch up. Just one last thing. Para...
“Para, I was sifting through the quBID recordings, from when you set the InnerEar on that dreadnaught. You erased most of the recordings. From what I saw, you went through a lot. Care to add anything?”
“It was a long time ago Viz.”
“But you wouldn’t forget details about a mission like that.”
“I don’t know. A lot of thoughts go through your mind when death is glaring at you, whispering in your ear.”
“That’s a creep-out. What did... death... say?”
“Just death stuff. I chose to listen to the other voice, the still small voice that spoke of life.”
***
It’s still April 2nd. Lately, our team meetings have been general updates mixed with the occasional planning session. But this meeting was a total spin-up. A major operation is in the works. Shockwave hasn’t been on a mission with multiple teams in a while. Our team is tasked with a heavy planning role for the op, and a hard deadline, so at least we won’t be bored. Let’s check out our schedule for the near term. It looks clear. Except, what’s this? A Solcom seminar featuring near-Earth defense upgrades.
We get frequent updates on the topics that will be presented, so we could skip it. Or, not! Our general, General Whitehall is a featured speaker. I’ve never seen him pull off a public speaking engagement. I’m sure Tee will want to go as well. Awe-stounding! He’s early on the roster, so we should be able to pop in for that.
I’m actually perked-up to get rolling on the Journal for this next operation. I’ll admit there’s a hint of nervousness rattling around inside as well. This op is another portal gate incursion. The last one, Ringolar, was wrenching.
I’ve decided to let Communal jump in and help with the Journal when I’m busy. That will relieve some of the stress. But now, I’ve got packing to do.
Next up, The Last Incursion. I’ll come up with a name when I see where the operation takes us.
***
THE INFESTED OF GALL
Solar Command military strategists were hard at work finalizing their strategic planning lists for the invasion of Cygnus Prime. It was our turn to invade. After two strikes, it was past time to call the Empire out. And time for Solcom to choose the final assault framework. One plan called for a multi-front attack using teleportation gates the Empire had placed on conquered worlds. Primers are riddled with shortcomings, but they aren’t stupid. They guard their portal gates well. Shockwave experienced their resolve on the Ringolar mission.
After three attempts by as many teams the intel collection wasn’t sufficient to support a multiple gate attack model. And field losses were mounting. Despite the tactical advantages of the plan, we had it under good authority that it was falling out of favor with the directors of Solcom. But they weren’t quite ready to table it. Not yet. There would be one final push.
The directors of Solcom handed the operation to Shockwave, along with the task of sifting through the data to find the best candidate planet. We were the first team to attempt a gate incursion, which took place on Ringolar, a desolate planet in the same system as Turkskee, the homeworld of our alien friend Steve. That operation turned out to be a nightmare, though it wasn’t Steve’s fault. And someone breathing the rarified air on the heights of Mount Solcom thought we should have one more chance. Lucky us.
Fierce suggested we call our extrasolar friend, Steve, to see if he might have a suggestion. Even though the mission had almost gotten us killed, it was an awe-stounding adventure, and Fierce is never one to miss out on the chance for some action. He’s still pretty new to the team. His enthusiasm for action will wane. And it’s true, adventure seems to stick to Steve like a noontime shadow on Mercury.
Turskee is a colony world which, in the distant past, lost contact with their home of origin, Crimson. Considering the vast interstellar distances involved, there had always been a communication lag of sorts. Travel between the worlds was difficult, costly, and infrequent. But no one was prepared when Crimson went completely silent.
There was an inevitable technological slip after that Terrible Silence. It helped that most of the colonists had chosen the journey due to a love for the simple life, a back to nature mentality. It wasn’t too long after the Terrible Silence that the Empire came calling on Turkskee. The colonists naturally assumed Crimson had also been invaded. It was the best explanation for the unnerving silence.
There are times, after a portal bridge has been established, the Empire moves the entire population of a conquered world to a different planet. The Primers assume there will be less patriotic resolve if one’s planet of birth is forever out of reach. It is a difficult process, moving the population of an entire world. In practice, the effort is limited to worlds where the population is deemed dangerous, or the planet is strategically important.
Because of a relatively low level of technology and lack of resources important to the Empire, there was no mass relocation of the residents of Turkskee. The people were left to themselves, with one niggling exception.
Turkskee is overrun with horse-like creatures. We’ll just call them horseys. Over the years, Primers discovered a love for horseyback riding. It wasn’t long before horsey camps were established on the rural planet.
Prime citizens have portal bridge travel rights, though the military has first right to access. Gate downtimes for the public are infrequent, but can last several days, resulting in travel inconveniences. Add to that the rough conditions and lack of societal amenities on Turkskee, and you have the makings for grumpy citizen hors
ey riders. It wasn’t long before the horsey camps on Turkskee closed and riding resorts on Cygnus Prime opened. That solved the intolerable travel situation, allowing Primers to enjoy riding without compromising on creature comforts.
Of course, all those relocated horseys needed care and training. The simple solution was to demand trainers and handlers from Turkskee move to Cygnus Prime. Difficulties imposed on those forced to relocate were, by one way of looking at it, balanced by a general absence of Empire oversite on Turkskee. And when the Empire chose Steve, a gifted horsey trainer, he tried to focus on that bright side. Why not? There was no other option, so best to look at the bright side.
Steve, deep down, is an optimist, and after a time he decided to pursue this potential opportunity for research. On Prime, he could locate his long-lost kin, the folk who sent his ancestors across the starways from beautiful Crimson to Turkskee. It wasn’t long before he learned enough about Empire politics to suspect they had resettled those of Crimson on a different world. No matter, all the peoples of the conquered worlds are to be found on Cygnus Prime, performing one dreary job or another.
As Steve searched diligently for someone, anyone, from Crimson, he met with no success. How depressing. On top of it all, the Empire, the citizens of Cygnus Prime, treat everyone else with profound disrespect. One insufferable situation led to another, pushing him to join the Resistance against the Empire. With that, new data resources were accessible, and he once again resolved to discover what had happened to his people. Steve uncovered evidence that Crimson had been invaded by the Empire, but found nothing to explain the whereabouts of his missing kin.
Invasion: Journal Three (Shockwave Book 3) Page 4
