Legacy of the Saiph

by P P Corcoran

  “Zeidler is Engel’s wife?” He managed in a strangled whisper.

  He conjured the image of a lone destroyer, its captain and crew risking their all to stand between a planet and a fiery, nuclear-fueled destruction that the Others had decided was to be their fate. Engel had jumped his destroyer to the very edge of Garunda’s atmosphere, in a desperate maneuver designed to halt a missile which had eluded the overstretched defenses of the Battle Force, as it fought the Others’ fleet. Engel had known his decision risked the lives of every soul aboard TDF Dagger; for if he did not intercept the missile, with the destroyer’s Close In Weapons Systems, his ship was in the missile’s direct path, but, he understood the destruction of his own ship would assure the missile could never reach the planet’s surface. Thankfully, Engel’s gamble played out. The missile was intercepted and destroyed by Dagger’s CIWS and Engel received Earth’s highest honor, The Terran Medal of Honor, for his actions.

  “Looks like that family is getting into the habit of rescuing me from tricky situations.” Said John

  “Indeed.” Agreed Jing. “And talking of tricky situations, I think I have possibly stretched Patricia’s good graces as far as I want to for one day, so let me make it up to her.” Turning his head slightly so that both the Radfords were in his eye line he allowed himself a small smile. “I hereby order you to take one month’s compulsory leave. Find somewhere you can recharge your batteries, John. Let somebody else worry about the Black Ships for a short while. I think we are all going to have to be on the top of our game for what is to come.”

  Patricia’s evident happiness at the prospect of having her husband all to herself for a whole month was tempered by the grim look that formed on both John and Jing’s faces.

  This war was far from over and there would be plenty more losses like those suffered at Guzman before it ended.

  CHAPTER THREE

  RED STAR NOT FOUND

  TDF TYCHO BRAHE | INTERSTELLAR SPACE | 1136 LIGHT-YEARS FROM EARTH

  “DSDG fully deployed doctor.” Reported the technician monitoring the Deployable Stellar Detection Grid, a truly massive array covering nearly 1000 square kilometers of space, the brainchild of one Doctor Sylvia Sarkisian. The DSDG was originally designed to detect the faintest of stars and provide scientists with unparalleled empirical data as to the formation of the universe it had however, been hijacked by the Department of Special Projects for a more pressing purpose. Operation Bright Star. The search for the home of the Creator. Sylvia Sarkisian did not doubt the necessity of the mission but is still riled her that her own purely scientific research had been side tracked and the elderly woman ensured that the only physical embodiment of the Department of Special Projects aboard the Tycho Brahe, one Lieutenant Terrance Wilson, was sure to know how she felt.

  “Thank you Aife.” Said Sylvia gracing the far younger female technician with a grandmotherly smile before turning her attention to another tech sat in front of a bank of holo displays. His eyes flicked from one holo display to another in rapid succession as tried to absorb and rationalize the information flowing across them. Seeing a deepening wrinkle of his brow Sylvia stepped over to him so she could see the displays herself. “How is it looking Arun?” She asked trying to keep any note of concern out of her voice.

  Arun tapped a key halting the scrolling display on the left hand holo, lifting a stylus he highlighted a single line of code with a resigned sigh. “Same damn issue as before Doctor. Looks like one of the processing units is out of sync again. I’ve tried re booting it with no joy, looks like I’ll need to go out there and do it manually or pull the whole thing and replace it. Sorry.”

  Sylvia felt a familiar sense of frustration building up inside of her. Damn was right! She said to herself. They were already nine weeks behind schedule and the data they had retrieved so far was only a fraction of what it should have been. Every time they deployed the DSDG it was one glitch after another. At first, she had tried to console herself that the DSDG was, after all, an experimental piece of equipment and she had expected there to be issues with both the hardware and the software. Now though, after seven deployments, it was the same issue time after time. The bloody processing units! Sylvia could have strangled the idiot penny pincher at the university who had given the contract to build the units to the lowest builder. In fact, she still might. The processing unit was responsible for not only collecting the data from each quadrant of the DSDG it ensured that the quadrant was aligned properly with the rest of the DSDG, essential if the gathered data was to be trusted as not overlapping with another quadrants data thereby giving false readings. The processing unit would then send the data up the chain to an area processor who double checked the alignment of the quadrants within its area before it in turn passed it to the central processor back on the Tycho Brahe. It all sounded fairly simple in principle but in practice, keeping the 10,000 individual quadrants looking at the same point in space at the same time while analyzing the data they captured took an immense amount of processing power. So much so that the entire forward cargo bay of the Tycho Brahe was one massive computer core that any university anywhere in the Commonwealth would have been proud of. As for the processing units that kept failing if she had her way they would have turned the ship around and returned to Earth at the first sign of trouble and replaced the lot of them. Unfortunately, the DSP had classified this whole mission so they were forced to make do with what they had in spares or could hash together themselves.

  It didn’t really help that sitting quietly in the corner watching proceedings was Terrance Wilson. He hadn’t said a word during the entire deployment stage, something which Sylvia’s team had gotten down to a fine art, only taking four and a half hours now instead of the original entire working day that the first deployment had taken. Which would be great if only the damn thing worked Sylvia chided herself. Turning to explain herself to the young lieutenant Sylvia paused as she noticed that he had his head down and was tapping away on his PAD. Probably filing some slighting report to his bosses at the DSP she thought before chastising herself for being such an old woman. The lieutenant and his aide, Ensign Burkett, had been nothing if not polite and helpful while her team had wrestled to resolve the various ‘hiccups with the DSDG. The engineering team had commented that Ensign Burkett’s input into how to improve processing speed had been quite insightful and had asked her if she could approach Lieutenant Wilson to see if they could use the ensign on a more regular basis. Something which Wilson had gladly acquiesced to, jokingly commenting that at least he wouldn’t have to keep listening to Burkett going on about how he would do things if he had a chance.

  Wilson’s head came up and he started speaking catching Sylvia off guard. “The XO is prepping a boat with an Extra Vehicular Activity team now doctor, they should be ready to launch in the next twenty minutes or so. If you don’t mind, I’d like to catch a ride? I’ve not been off the ship in weeks and could do with a change of scenery besides...” Wilson gave Sylvia a conspiratorial wink along with a slight nod in the direction of Ensign Burkett who was completely oblivious to what was going on around him as he worked on two PAD’s at the same time. “It might be fun when he eventually realizes that I’m not here and goes running around the ship looking for me.”

  Despite herself Sylvia’s lips twitched into a sly smile. She may not like having her strings pulled by the puppet masters of the DSP but she just couldn’t bring herself to dislike the affable lieutenant. “I’m sure whatever help you could be to the EVA team would be greatly appreciated lieutenant.”

  Flinging another sideways glance at the oblivious Burkett, Wilson eased himself off his seat and out the door.

  ✽✽✽

  “The captain's pretty pissed that we have another one of these processor units failing again lieutenant.” Said Commander Apter. “And I don’t have to remind you that when the Captain is pissed then I get pissed and you know what happens then...”

  Terrance Wilson gave the XO a knowing look before finishing the
XO’s sentence. “I get it in the neck.” The two men shared a chuckle before Apter’s mood changed to one of all business. In the time Terrance had been aboard the Tycho Brahe he and Apter had become as friendly as a junior officer could become with a lieutenant commander so he appreciated fully the pressure being placed on Apter and the captain from the higher echelons of the navy to come up with the location of the red star that the Others legends specified was the home of the Creator. The fact that the Creator had revealed himself to be the same person behind the Black Ships that had rout such destruction on the Alonan Empire’s colony world of Balat, Garunda’s Dagger Station and the Turak ships at Selene before ripping up Carrier Strike Group Itus at Guzman only for the Creator to be identified as non-other than a Saiph was a pressure that Terrance was glad was well above his pay grade even if it was his theory that had ended up with him, an intelligence analyst from a nondescript office on the 21st floor of the Office of Naval Intelligence in Carson City never having had a duty aboard ship before never mind a secret mission on behalf of the Department of Special Operations, a department of the navy so secret it only existed in rumors, deep in interstellar space. How many times in the past few months had he chastised himself for sharing his theory that the Creator’s home was actually a Dyson Sphere constructed around a red dwarf star and if you traveled far enough out from the center of the spiral arm then you would actually be able to see the light from star being extinguished by the completion of the Dyson Sphere as it fully enclosed and eclipsed the star. Putting Wilson’s theory into practice though was proving more difficult than either he, Sylvia Sarkisian, or the Department of Special Projects had thought.

  Reaching the doors to the small craft bay Apter halted Wilson with a hand on the junior officer’s forearm. Apter locked eyes with Wilson as if he was trying to communicate the importance of what he was going to say next.

  “The Captain is considering returning to Gateway Station - in fact he has already requested permission from Brigadier Statham.”

  Wilson felt his breath catch in his throat as his eyes went wide with surprise. For the captain to go directly to the head of DSP, Brigadier General Earl Statham, with his request to return to Gateway Station only showed Terrance how serious the captain thought the situation was. Apter fully understood Wilson’s reaction to the news. It mirrored his own disbelief when the captain had informed him not twenty minutes ago.

  “The Captain feels that with the number of repeated technical failures the array is suffering that it would be better for us to call a halt now, return to Gateway, and fix the issues once and for all before heading back out.”

  First and foremost, Terrance Wilson was an analyst. Forcing his mind to concentrate on the problem in front of him instead of the feeling of failure growing in the pit of his stomach, Terrance let the cold, undeniable, logic of numbers play out. Weighing the amount of time the Tycho Brahe had spent deploying the DSDG, running system checks, then going live only to discover a faulty processing unit which in turn meant prepping a shuttle and EVA crew. Pulling the faulty unit and replacing it only to find another unit elsewhere amongst the thousands of sections making up the DSDG had failed forcing the repair crews to go through the whole process again.

  Prior to the Tycho Brahe shipping out Sylvia Sarkisian, her team, and those at the DSP had estimated that the time required to fully deploy the 1000 square kilometer DSDG, gather the required data before securing the DSDG away again for transit to the next deployment location would take roughly seven to ten days. In fact, just to get the DSDG up and running on its first deployment had taken fifteen days. Fully 25 percent of the replacement processor units in stock had been eaten up before a single byte of useful data had been processed. Now, after seven deployments, only the superhuman efforts of the repair techs who had somehow managed to cobble together replacement parts for the never ending number of faulty processors had kept the DSDG functioning. Four months in deep space should have by now been producing the results that the expeditions bosses back at DSP had hoped for instead all the crew had to show for it was bleary eyes and short tempers.

  “The Captains right.” Said Terrance grudgingly somewhat to Apter’s surprise for the commander had anticipated the younger officer to have fought tooth and nail to see through a project which had been his brainchild after all.

  “We should return to Gateway. Rip out all the processing units and replace them with an improved design based on what we have learned out here.”

  “Dr Sarkisian’s not going to be happy.” Said Apter.

  “She will see the logic behind the decision.” Terrance reassured him. “The good doctor and her team are as frustrated as we are. Give her the resources to fix the issues with the DSDG and she will give you something that will do what we need.”

  “Maybe we can temporarily detach Ensign Burkett to her team to help with the redesign. Might keep him out of our hair for a while.” Joked Apter

  Terrance let out a short laugh himself as he imagined Sarkisian’s face when she heard that choice piece of news. “I would love to be in the room when you tell her that. Let’s just say she treats our Ensign Burkett like one of her annoying grad students.”

  “He does seem to have an issue with knowing when to keep his opinions to himself.” Agreed Apter before giving Terrance a conspiratorial wink. “I’ll make sure I pass along your suggestion to the captain.” Any reply Terrance may have made was cut off by the voice of the Duty Watch Officer booming out through the ships public address system.

  “Commander Apter report to the bridge. Commander Apter report to the bridge.”

  “No rest for the wicked.” Said Apter as he spun on his heel and headed off in the direction of the nearest elevator shaft to take him the four decks up to the bridge leaving Terrance standing alone in the corridor with his thoughts. The smiling image of his wife Maggie cradling a sleeping, four-month-old Richard Wilson, as he had left for the shuttle that would take him to Gateway Station and Tycho Brahe. Terrance had known at the time that Maggie’s smile had hidden her unhappiness at being left alone to care for Richard. Unhappiness made only worse by Terrance’s need to keep the true purpose of his tour of duty on the research ship a secret from her. As far as Maggie was concerned Terrance’s tour aboard ship was a mandatory box ticking exercise which he needed to complete so that he could be considered for promotion. What sort of naval officer would he be if he had never served aboard a single ship Terrance had joked with her. His attempt at levity and her own fake laughter in response had done nothing to mask the truth. Terrance was hiding something from her, and she did not like it. Not one single bit. With any luck there would be time for a spot of shore leave when they returned to Gateway. A family trip to visit Aunt Elizabeth on Janus might be just what the doctor ordered.

  Terrance pushed thoughts of family out of his mind as he slapped the door open pad and entered the small craft bay. The repair team were already well into their preparations to head out and retrieve the latest faulty processor. Seeing Terrance approaching a rating indicated an EVA suit hanging on a rack. Acknowledging him with a nod Terrance began unfastening his own uniform with a small sigh. Today was turning into a long day.

  ✽✽✽

  JSN VIGILANT | ORBITAL SHIPYARDS | JANUS | 4.7 LIGHT-YEARS FROM EARTH

  “Now that is a thing of beauty.” Said the woman dressed in the uniform of a vice admiral of the Terran Defense Force to the man fidgeting uncomfortably in his brand new, blood red uniform blouse and jet-black trousers. Shoulder boards of space black carried three bright yellow, seven pointed stars which, according to the new rank and insignia structure of the fledgling Janus Space Navy proclaimed him to be a full admiral and the highest-ranking officer of the JSN.

  “That she is.” Agreed Robert Lewis trying to run a finger inside his too tight uniform blouse collar without drawing attention to himself. Kaitlin Rocha suppressed a none too subtle chuckle at her former boss’ obvious discomfort.

  “Still getting used to the new uniform I
see.” She said in a voice low enough that it only carried as far as Robert’s ears earning her a grunt in agreement.

  “The designers obviously thought us spacers have the necks of scrawny chickens.” Robert replied in the same low voice.

  The final strands of the intricate web of gantries and mooring lines retracted to allow Robert and Kaitlin their first unobstructed view of the massive construct lurking in the largest dry dock to be found orbiting Janus.

  Kaitlin eyed the warship within with appraising eyes. The latest innovative battle armor reflected the harsh yard lights, casting shadows across its bulk where the ships outer boxy hull, as opposed to the more conventional curved lines common to other races warships, was pot-marked with three rows of missile tube covers that ran the length of the ship. Raised carbuncles housed heavy grazers while smaller turrets contained a mix of close in defense lasers and high-speed anti-missile-missiles peppering the hull in painstakingly mathematical precision ensuring that not one single square centimeter of hull was left unprotected.

  The throng of dignitaries from what appeared to Robert to be every corner of the Commonwealth and its associate members squashed into the hastily converted viewing platform let out a collective gasp as JSN Vigilant, the first true warship commissioned into the JSN, floated free of its moorings and glided gracefully into open space on its maneuvering thrusters. Kaitlin was not the only military figure in the room to appraise Vigilant. Robert spied Benii, Nilmerg, Persi, and Garundan naval officers scrupulously inspecting the warships unconventional boxy hull. While the other Commonwealth officers may have been eying the Vigilant with grudging admiration the sole representative of the Alonan Empire ensured that her expression remained completely neutral though Robert was sure she was soaking up every detail of Vigilant’s outer hull.

  Kaitlin caught the frown that fleetingly wrinkled Robert’s forehead. “That your local imperial spy - sorry, Liaison Officer?”