by Dennis Young
* * *
The medical team entered, moving smoothly to injured personnel, administering whatever aid they could, knowing each crewmember was needed as fit as possible. Field dressings, soothing sprays to numb the pain, or stims to rouse and sharpen senses, they moved from officer to officer.
It seemed like hours, but only moments had passed. Two med-techs hovered over Haversen, administering a spray-hypo and scanning the captain until he waived them away as the intercom crackled to life.
“Engineering to Bridge. Sir, we’ve got hyperlight available, but at reduced speed.”
Haversen slapped the button. “Stony! What have you got?”
“About 50c, that’s all. And I squeezed another thirty seconds of PAKS power out of the system.”
Haversen let go a breath. “Well done. Helm, ahead hyperlight 50c, original heading. Tactical, stand by weapons, E-tech, monitor Countermeasures.” He looked at each face, still anxiousness seen, but resolve as well. “Sciences, report.”
“Bearing down on us, sir, not stealthed, 100c. Jen’riss Two is leaking energy.”
“Let’s use that. Helm, swing around when they close, bring weapons to bear on that leakage. Tactical, stand by PAKS, save the torpedoes.”
“Aye, sir, standing by, torpedoes loaded and ready at your command.”
Bellerophon strained under the unbalanced hyperlight field, Richards with his hands full keeping the ship steady, Vikihrov working with targeting systems that had been knocked out of alignment.
“Jen’riss One is turning, energy spike! Cloud weapon firing! One hundred thousand kilometers!”
“Where is Number Three?”
Somura peered again into her viewer. “Standing off again, sir, assessing our tactics and strategy.”
“Let’s see if that plasma will follow us. Helm, spiral in toward Number Two, keep our bow to them. Tactical, precision fire once you reach optimum range.”
“Fifty thousand kilometers, it’s sliding off target.” Somura was still calm in her reports.
“Jen’riss Two is turning to bear!”
“Don’t give him the chance, Karina. Ten seconds, PAKS… fire!”
The Jen’riss ship buckled under the onslaught, spinning, drifting, the starboard fuselage crumbling as Bellerophon poured titanic energies into and through its superstructure. Two small explosions, then a third, and the Jen’riss hung in space, battered and torn. Hot junk leaked from half a dozen breaches.
“Sir, cloud weapon ten thousand kilo—”
Bellerophon lurched, twisted, shuddered and shook. Panels sparked, the E-tech going down in a heap, hands smoldering. He screamed. One of the damage control techs at the lift dragged him from the sputtering panel, administering a numbing spray to charred flesh.
Somura picked herself up from the floor as Reid regained his seat. The Nav panel was blackened and dark.
“Report!”
“Casualties on decks six and seven, minor hull breach in Section Nineteen. Medical and damage control on the way.”
“Starboard countermeasures caught most of it, sir, it was a grazing hit. Efficiency down to thirty-five percent.”
“Jen’riss One is lining up for another shot!”
“Tactical, spread of six, five seconds PAKS. Hit him with all you’ve got!”
Vikihrov lined up the shot, half with her instruments, half manually, as the targeting system continued to give aberrant information.
“Torpedoes away, PAKS firing! Two hits, Jen’riss is giving ground.”
“Here comes number three!” Somura said something in Japanese Haversen didn’t quite catch.
“Incoming!”
Bellerophon quaked. Everyone on the Bridge went down. More cries of pain, more smoke and fire. Haversen rose to his knees and slapped the intercom. “Ndashimye, take over, the Bridge is dark. Get us out of here!”
“Aye, sir, coming about. Engineering, this is Auxiliary Control. Full power to the engines, countermeasures astern. Standby all weapons.”
“Captain!”
Again, Bellerophon shuddered under Jen’riss fire. Again, the crew climbed back into their seats or simply knelt beside darkened panels.
“Jen’riss gaining, sir. Thirty seconds to range of their cloud weapon.” Ndashimye’s voice was still even. “Particlebeams firing, launching last six torpedoes.” A pause. “Two hits, minimal damage. PAKS batteries are fully drained, torpedoes at zero.”
“Sir.” Vikihrov stood and faced Haversen. She saluted. Others as well, turned to the captain and gave the traditional military salute. Haversen looked to Somura, bleeding from a cut over her eye, smoke smudging her cheek. She turned and bowed formally to the captain. “We die with honor, sir,” she said in Japanese.
“Engineering to Bridge. Captain… Steve…”
“New contacts.” Ndashimye’s voice filled the intercom speakers. “Two… correction, three. Coming in, vector 180, mark 90. Earthfleet.”
The Bridge erupted in a deafening cheer. This time, Haversen joined them.
“Bellerophon, this is EAS Abrams, Task Force Stinger. Glad we got your message. Now sit back and enjoy the fireworks. Squadron, engage enemy closely.”
Three images flashed by, nearly too quickly to see. “Sherman-class destroyers,” said Ndashimye’s voice. “Jen’riss are turning, going hyperlight, heading… I-Zone.”
Again, the Bridge echoed with cheering. Simmons’s voice came from the intercom, nearly unintelligible.
“Engineering, Bridge. What was that, Mr. Simmons?”
“Nothing, sir. Just some Tennessee talk, that’s all.”
“Care to share it?”
“Uh… sir…”
Haversen grinned and winked at Somura. “That’s an order, Commander.”
“Uh… yes, sir. I said, ‘I hope they chase them sumbitches all the way to Mars’.”
For the third time, the crew cheered. This time, it went on for quite a while.
Seven
Homeward Bound
“Duty Log, Captain William Haversen, 160806.6. Three days after the encounter with the Jen’riss and things are beginning to get back to normal. Engineering reports installation of the replacement phase coils is complete, giving us 100c capability again. No damage to the main core was sustained in our escape attempt, but Commander Simmons insists on a full diagnostic and recalibration before we get underway. Still, the defects in the coils are troublesome, and a full report has been filed with Fleet. We are to receive their reply and recommendations today.
“Casualties from the skirmish were light, no fatalities, hull damage is under repair and will be completed within seventy-two hours. Work continues on the Bridge and other areas sustaining the most damage. XO Ndashimye is commanding from Aux Control and we will return to Fleet Base Eight for full repairs. In the meantime, our “angels”, Task Force Stinger, will take up our patrol assignments until either Bellerophon or Addisson is ready to resume duty.
“On the subject of our discoveries, Science Section is working overtime to analyze anything they can from the plates. It seems Mr. Reid’s suppositions were correct; the planet’s tracking indicates a high probability of coming from very far away, and closer to the core of our galaxy. Regarding the inhabitants themselves, Dr. Haley reports they are closely related to the fossilized DNA Sciences has been able to extract from the samples brought on board. Still, whether these creatures built the incredible civilizations seen only now in ruin, or if they were trained by those inhabitants, we may never know.
“I can’t say enough for the courage under fire of this crew. There will be citations for many, but two in particular stands out: Lieutenant Commander David Simmons, for keeping Bellerophon in one piece and fighting against superior enemy forces, and Lieutenant Commander Aiko Somura, for her handling of the survey team on the rogue planet, and her calm demeanor and dedication to duty during our darkest moments. I’m sending a recommendation to Fleet Base Eight and Admiral Turgison that she be considered for promotion to full Commander an
d placed on available duty as XO for deep exploration. She’s earned it.
“Once repairs are complete, Bellerophon will be reassigned and her crew manifest updated. I’m entering a request, one I thought I might never do again. I’m asking for permanent assignment to Bellerophon as captain.”
* * *
Haversen clicked the recorder off, not knowing what else, if anything, to add. He sat quietly in his quarters, sipping coffee and reflecting on events of days passed, wondering how he might have done things differently. Or even if he could have.
The door hail sounded. “Come in.”
“Reporting as ordered, sir.” Ndashimye stood in the doorway at attention. Haversen motioned her in and offered a chair.
“Coffee or tea, Commander?”
“No, thank you, sir. I’m here only to report our progress, then return to duty.”
“How long since you had a break?”
She paused before answering. “I was last off duty sixteen hours ago, sir.”
“Take twelve hours off. That’s an order. The worst is over, Ndashimye, you can breathe again.”
“As you wish, sir. Perhaps…”
“… yes?”
“Perhaps I shall do some more painting. As we discussed earlier.”
Ndashimye began to rise, then paused. “Sir, a question, if I may.”
Haversen nodded.
“The Earth Alliance destroyers. You knew they were close.”
“I sent a secure message back to Fleet Base Eight during our trip out here. I had a hunch the Jen’riss would try something and knew we’d likely need support. The code ‘Stinger’ was their callsign, obviously. They stayed out of range just enough the Jen’riss didn’t detect them. I also let Commander Vikihrov know, so if they popped up on her tactical sensors, she wouldn’t say anything.”
Ndashimye was quiet for a long moment. “I’m glad for your hunch, sir,” she said at last. “Well done.”
Haversen nodded again, this time with a slight smile.
She rested her hands in her lap and folded them together. “Sir, I have a personal request.”
“I thought you might have something else on your mind. What is it?”
“The planet will enter Jen’riss space in approximately thirty-five days, and depending on what it encounters in the way of gravity sources, may spend several years there. I’m asking permission to begin long-range studies and, once we arrive at Fleet Base Eight, prepare official requests to the Jen’riss Empire for a coordinated team of scientists to visit the planet. I have contacts at the Centauri Academy of Sciences who could lend their assistance in convincing the appropriate Jen’riss officials.”
Haversen sat back in his chair, apprising his XO. “And your personal involvement? Is this a request for transfer in the making I’m hearing?”
“Oh, no, sir. I prefer to remain on Bellerophon if you, or whomever takes command when reassigned, will allow.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Commander. I’m requesting permanent assignment here. I’d be honored if you would stay on board as XO.”
Ndashimye raised her face and showed a smile. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your offer and will certainly do so, if Earthfleet allows.”
“Commanding officer’s choice. If you accept, it’s a done deal.”
“Yes, sir. Therefore, I would be pleased if you accept my official… acceptance.” Again, she smiled.
“Smiling favors you, Commander.”
“Thank you, sir. More of our… experiment?”
* * *
At Six Bells, Haversen’s door hail sounded again.
“Come.”
Simmons entered with a PADD in hand and a bit of hope in his eyes.
“Sit down, Stony. Coffee? Or something stronger?”
Simmons shook his head. “Just wanted to bring you the latest Engineering report.”
Haversen nodded to the PADD. “Just give me the good news. Hyperlight this shift?”
“Possibly, sir, but next shift for certain. I’ve received a reply from Fleet Base Eight and some comments I thought I’d share.”
Haversen nodded, refreshing his cup.
“Admiral P’Tr’arah says a full inquiry will be launched immediately regarding the phase coil issue. She also said something about… uh… ‘cheap Arnec parts’.”
Haversen paused before he drank. “But Admiral P’Tr’ahra is Arneci, right?”
“Yes, sir. That’s why I laughed when I heard it. The thing is, she was laughing, too.”
Haversen grinned. Then laughed. Then they laughed together for a long time.
They were still laughing as they rose and exited, heading for the Bridge of EAS Bellerophon.
TRIUMVARATE
Starship Burlingame
By
Dennis Young
With Sincere Thanks to my
Cultural Consultant, Kate Kort
Prologue
The ships were big, impressive, dark nearly as space itself. They moved silently toward the star system in classic triskele formation, the lead ship high, trailed by the other two lower and on its flanks. The Qoearc were nothing if not masters at military precision.
Preheats glowed deep red in the prow of all three ships, mass drivers ready, phased discharge emitters on the superstructure sides glowing blue with charge.
These were the pride of the Qoearc, Vrex-class war cruisers, newly commissioned. Their objective; a star system lying on the fringe of Earth Alliance Space, known as the Gates of Harmony. With three gas-giant planets and a heavy asteroid belt, the system was filled with resources. The K-1 star was a bit cooler and smaller than Earth’s sun. That only meant the planets huddled closer in, the system compact, and the only inhabited planet easily reached from the star’s singularity border.
The lead ship’s Zacan, or “commander” in Earth Alliance Standard terms, Toks by name, ordered the squadron to take up orbit around the outermost gas giant, refuel from the heavy hydrogen atmosphere, and attend a final VR conference. The Qoearc had dropped out of hyperlight far afield, coasting without power, and now were scanning RF and shortwave frequencies for any sign they had been detected. None were found. The Qoearc ships move sunward.
Two unmanned stations orbiting the inhabited planet were vaporized without warning. The third was battered into space junk, and fell screaming into the atmosphere, burning and spreading hot debris over a vast populated area. Terror was Toks’s opening gambit, done to raise the ire of whatever governments or military were there. But no defenders rose from the ground to meet the Qoearc intrusion, no fleets of ships hiding in the asteroids and thousands of rocks making up the ring around the planet opposed his task force. Nothing.
Toks ordered Beauzic, the second ship of his squadron, to close and occupy the only manned station in orbit. In less than a day it was in the Qoearc’s hands, no resistance having been offered by the nearly two hundred humans on board. The third ship, Daefh, took up polar orbit, while Toks’s ship, Diviak Nurmeen, assumed geosynchronous orbit above the largest city. His surrender demands were broadcast in Alliance Standard, Anglish, Arnec, and several dialects his Alliance-Studies Officer thought might be useful. Toks understood none of them, but it didn’t matter. All he wanted was cooperation. The Qoearc definition.
It was a full planetary rotation later before a subspace squirt was emitted from a nameless rock orbiting beyond the star’s singularity. One of Beauzic’s auxiliary craft immediately took the task of blasting the rock to little more than gravel, but it was too late. The message had but one obvious purpose; a call for assistance from the nearest Earth Alliance base.
Toks’s scales glimmered at the thought. Now things would get much more interesting.
One
Distress Call
“Duty Log, Captain Harlan Mitchell, 161126.16. While at Fleet Base Twenty-four, long-range comm received a distress call from a frontier system being invaded by Qoearc warships. Admiral Klauson issued immediate orders for Interceptor Squadron Six com
prised of my ship EAS Burlingame, along with Marshall and Armstrong, to depart at maximum speed and offer, in his words, ‘whatever assistance is necessary’. Those four words carry a lot of weight when the Qoearc are involved. I hope we’re in time to do some good.”
* * *
The Command Bridge of EAS Burlingame…
“Comm, signal the squadron, drop to sublight and hold position.” Captain Harlan Mitchell sat a bit straighter in his command seat and watched the main viewscreens as the subspace effects cleared and the Harmonian star system lay ahead like a string of pearls on velvet.
“Squadron signals acknowledged, Captain.” Lieutenant Rashim swiveled in his seat to glance at the twin screens on the foredeck bulkhead.
“Engineering, secure hyperlight engines. Helm, come to rest relative to the system. Nav, give me a view.”
Mitchell turned to the engineering console. The E-tech nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. He looked to the screens again, now overlaid with scrolling text and a graphic of the star system. “Tactical, report.”
“Nothing, sir, clear space. Working on locating the home planet and any ships in its vicinity.” Lieutenant Neunada’s deep Nairobi accent was soft, yet carried easily in the battle-ready Bridge of Burlingame.
“Passive detection only, Lieutenant. We don’t want to alert them of our arrival. Comm, patch in Marshall and Armstrong, secure channel.”
Rashim attended his console for a quiet moment. “They’re on, sir.”
“Captains, we’ve arrived. Status.”
A smooth Latino contralto replied from the speaker. “Marshall is secured, standing by. Welcome to the Gates of Harmony, Mitch.”
Mitchell grinned. Sonja Guererro’s voice could have launched a thousand ships. “Likewise, Captain, and I’m glad to see everything appears to be intact. Armstrong, what’s your situation?”
“Same as before, sir. Captain Martinez is still in sickbay and Doctor Addams has her stable, but she’s in no condition to return to duty… yet.”
