Cerberus

by John Filcher

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” responded Perez, beginning the process of calculating the jump and preparing to execute the order. “Jump calculated. Destination appears clear of obstructions. Ready to execute,” he added a few minutes later.

  “Execute jump, Mr. Perez,” said Ronin. In a pair of jump flares, Cerberus reappeared at the halfway point.

  “Contact! Metallic objects. One, possibly more bogeys. Distance, 4 billion miles. Speed, nominal. Constant bearing, increasing range,” announced Lieutenant LeCroy.

  “Assuming they’re looking this way, it’ll be about five hours until they see our arrival flare,” said Mueller.

  “All right, if they see us, it’ll be quite some time until they could get here, assuming they can change bearing that quickly. Realistically, it is likely even longer. Said Ronin. “Cerberus will be long gone by then if need be. Let’s check out the neighborhood. Call in your seconds from second shift, and everyone get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

  Once second shift was in place, Ronin and Mueller returned to his ready room. “Preliminary scan results indicate the bogeys are traveling somewhat slowly. Too slow for an effective patrol, and they aren’t following the same course so they are pulling apart without any course deviations noted,” said Mueller.

  “Light refraction even suggests one hull is tumbling. We can’t get a clear read on the other,” Ronin nodded tiredly. “I’m guessing these might be ghost ships, or remnants of them. AI agrees with that assessment. If they’ve been traveling at the same velocity all along, it would seem they’ve been out here for hundreds of years,” added Ronin.

  “Correct, Captain. Using the assumptions of constant bearing, velocity and origination near the hot spot, they have been traveling for approximately 753 years,” responded the female-sounding AI of Cerberus. “This time horizon is consistent with the Science Department’s measurements of hot spot radioactive decay since our arrival,” added the AI.

  Ronin and Mueller looked at one another for a few seconds before Ronin spoke. “Given the extreme intensity of the radiation in the hot spot, I can only imagine how bad it was 753 years ago.”

  Mueller nodded. “Science Department believes it was some sort of massive nuclear event, or a series of them, to cause that level of radiation. Legend holds even the intense radiation in the ruins of old Washington, D.C., had decayed to match ambient surrounding levels a century after The Fall,” she commented.

  Ronin yawned and stretched for a few moments. “Let’s grab some rack time and sleep on it while the sensors work up a more complete report,” he said.

  “Good idea,” responded Mueller. “It’s been a long day, and we need to stay sharp.”

  Ronin nodded. “OK, let’s regroup at 1200 hours and figure out our next steps based on what data we have. See you tomorrow, Diane.”

  Mueller returned to her quarters, feeling like she had been away for a week. I wonder if it will be hard to get to sleep. Too much excitement, and I feel like an overtired kid before holiday. The door to her quarters swished open to reveal her husband and children tucked up under his arms as he read a bedtime book to them.

  “Mommy!” cried her twin daughters, Sonya and Sophia, springing up to hug her.

  “We missed you!” said Sophia, as Sonya simply buried her face into Mueller’s neck. The seven-year-old twins were blonde, blue-eyed mirror images of their pretty mother.

  Her husband, Karl, stood and simply waited with a knowing smile while the girls hugged Mueller for a few moments. “Well, well, look who decided to join us in time for bedtime stories,” said Karl, his blue eyes twinkling.

  “It feels like I haven’t seen you three for a week,” said Mueller tiredly. “What a long day!” she continued. “Come on girls, let Mommy get you tucked into bed,” she said as the girls followed her into their bedroom.

  A few minutes later Mueller entered the bedroom she shared with Karl. She got ready for sleep and fell into bed as he handed her a glass of water and crawled in beside her.

  “I saw the report concluding the radiation hot spot is unnatural in origin, but I don’t understand the science behind your area’s conclusion,” Mueller said to Karl, curling up in his arms. “Can you walk me through the simple version of it?” she asked.

  Karl sighed contentedly for a moment as he thought about how to summarize the science at a high level. “It basically was a series of logical deductions. There is no detectable mass at the gates; therefore, there is nothing that could produce energy or radiation byproduct. Coupled with observations that the radiation seems to slowly be reducing in intensity and the trajectories of multiple objects our visual scanners picked up and tracked back to the vicinity of the hot spot leads us to conclude there was some sort of energy event at the hot spot.”

  Mueller listened with her eyes closed, barely following along to what would have to serve as her own version of a bedtime story. As she lay in their rack, her last thought before falling asleep was, I wonder what tomorrow will show us.

  As Ronin trudged to his quarters, he also pondered what the morrow would bring. He simply was too tired to think of anything else that had to be done today, so he stepped out of his uniform, tossed it into the laundry, and had a quick shower. His desktop commlink system indicated there was a video message from his children, so he prepared a glass of herbal tea to sip while he sat at his desk to watch the video from Sarah and Edward on his screen. He was smiling when the video concluded, and decided to send a quick video reply before crawling into his rack and falling into a deep sleep.

  “Hi kids! As you can see from the message header, I’m not aboard the Ike any longer. I’m captain of a brand-new ship, the Cerberus, but I wasn’t allowed to tell you that until we departed, so there’s the big piece of news I’ve been holding back. She’s a huge, fast and powerful ship, but this is the surprise. We were sent out on an exploration mission to find some legends. I have to go now, but I love you and do what your grandparents tell you. Ronin out.”

  Message and tea finished, Ronin fell into his rack and immediately went into a deep sleep.

  The next day at 1200 hours, Ronin strode on to the bridge and walked over to Delacroix’s station. “Delacroix, anything new since the morning report?”

  Delacroix shook his head and said, “No, Captain. No change in aspect on the bogeys. We’ve detected two moons orbiting Planet Nine, and AI supposition continues to support Science Department’s preliminary determination of the hot spot being artificial in origin,” reported Delacroix.

  Ronin nodded. “All right. I think it’s time to move on. Let’s get the Bulldogs into the game here,” he said, walking over to the command chair.

  “Sunderland, this is the Captain,” said Ronin into a commlink channel that he opened by using the console node built into his chair arm.

  “Sunderland here, what can I do for ye, Captain?” immediately responded the CAG (Commander Air Group), in his heavy Scottish burr.

  “Scouting mission for your Bulldogs, Lieutenant. Mount up three crews. One for a reconnaissance of Planet Nine, and the others for an intercept of several bogeys we’ve been tracking. Sneak and peek initially, jump to safety at the first sign of trouble, then inspect closer if nothing seems dangerous,” said Ronin.

  “Aye, it’ll be a pleasure Captain. We’ll prep for preflight, and launch the birds in ten minutes,” replied Sunderland.

  Sunderland opened a commlink channel to the pilot ready room using the node on his collar. The ready room was occupied with bored Marine pilots who had been following along with the sensor scans, hoping for something interesting to happen.

  “Now hear this. Bulldog crews one through three, mission briefing in my office in two minutes. Launch Master, preflight their birds. Sunderland out.”

  After he closed the line, Sunderland noted to himself he essentially said a spacecraft named after a dog was called a bird. “Sometimes the weird around her
e is hard to wrap me head around,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head slightly as he prepared his thoughts.

  Two minutes later, three pilot officers and their rear-seaters gathered in Sunderland’s office.

  “Listen up. The Captain has a reconnaissance mission for you. Our tactical situation is this,” he said, throwing an image from his desk computer to the wall screen in his office.

  “We’ve jumped around this radiation hot spot and found a dark planet with a pair of moons. Couldn’t see it until we cleared the hot spot because the radiation is so intense most of our sensors are fouled except for optical, and those couldn’t detect the planet from there. It is now designated Planet Nine, as we finally could see it when we got closer. We’re also tracking several objects on constant bearings, increasing range trajectories for the better part of a day. By now they would’ve seen us if they were looking.

  “Your missions are this. Bulldog 1, jump to Planet Nine and survey. Bulldogs 2 and 3, jump to these objects and investigate them. Keep your jump engines spooled up and jump out at the first sign of trouble. If the situation is quiet, we can proceed further. Questions?” asked Sunderland as he completed their mission briefing.

  “Why are we tracking these particular objects and not the rest of the junk that’s normally flying around?” asked Bulldog 1 Pilot Officer Erin Johnson, the petite, dark-skinned pilot from Alabama.

  “That’s a solid question,” said Sunderland. “Sensors and visuals report very little is out here. We don’t know why, but both of those two objects stand out because their courses intersect at the hot spot, and at current speeds that we’ve observed from optical telescopes, it would have taken both of them 753 years to get where they are from that intersection point.”

  Startled, the Bulldog pilots looked at each other before Johnson spoke up again. “Um, sir? Are those objects all traveling at the same speed?”

  Sunderland nodded. “That’s affirmative, Johnson. Like buckshot, they are traveling at the same speed in a diverging pattern originating from roughly the same point in space, all beginning at the hot spot.”

  “Just like debris from a really big explosion,” mumbled Bulldog 1’s rear-seater, Hal Patterson, who was from Texas.

  Questions answered, Sunderland looked at his pilots and rear-seaters one more time. “All right. Make it happen out there. Good hunting and don’t do nothing stupid,” he said as his people stood to head over to the launch bay, where the engine whine of the Bulldogs could be heard from the preflight. After he watched them board their rides and his screen showed green lights across the board for the Bulldogs, Sunderland commlinked the bridge using the node on his collar again.

  “Captain, Sunderland here. Bulldogs 1 through 3 are go for launch on your order.”

  Ronin, expecting the report, simply responded, “Launch Bulldogs.”

  Bulldog 1

  “Bulldog 1, you are go for launch,” said the Launch Master into Pilot Officer Johnson’s ears as she pressed the launch acceleration button on her console to send their ride hurtling down the launch tube into the beyond. Seconds later, they were free of Cerberus’ gravity field.

  “We have good launch. Systems still report optimal,” reported rear-seater Patterson from his electronic suite and tactical station behind Johnson.

  “Thanks. Jump in three. Two. One,” responded Johnson as they jumped the Bulldog away from Cerberus.

  There was a small jump flare between Planet Nine and the orbit of its largest as Bulldog 1 appeared. “Jump 1 complete,” announced Johnson.

  “Beginning scans,” responded Patterson. “Prepare for a long wait for our signals to return with data,” he said.

  Bulldog 2

  “Bulldog 2, you are go for launch.” said the Launch Master into Pilot Helmut Meyer’s helmet as he pressed the launch acceleration button on his console to send their ride hurtling down the launch tube.

  “We have good launch. Systems still report optimal,” reported rear-seater Sophie Schmidt from her electronic suite and tactical station behind Meyer. Both Meyer and Schmidt spoke slightly accented American because they were Germans.

  “Jump in three. Two. One,” responded Meyer as Bulldog 2 quickly jumped away. There was a small jump flare as Bulldog 2 reappeared near their target, now dubbed Object 1.

  “Jump 1 complete,” announced Meyer.

  “Object 1 on sensors, distance to target, 100 miles,” said Schmidt after a few moments. “Object is tumbling slowly, but we can match if needed,” she noted after another glance at her screen.

  “Matching target speed now,” said Meyer as he brought the ship into a stationary position relative to the target.

  Several minutes passed as the Germans took additional readings while they held on station 100 miles from the object, which was still too far away to see.

  “Radiation readings match ambient levels,” announced Schmidt. “Scopes are otherwise clear of objects,” she added.

  “Roger that. I’m going to close with the target. Call out any change in aspect,” responded Meyer.

  Bulldog 2 slowly began to accelerate, and closed the 100 miles separating them in a few minutes. Soon the object became visible, and then it quickly grew in size until it filled their forward windows from a mile away. Stunned, Schmidt and Meyer easily recognized the object as the remnant of a spacecraft. It was over 1000 meters in length, with a width of 500 feet width that was comparable to that of Cerberus.

  “No life signs. No energy readings, hull temperature matches the outside temperature,” said Schmidt, having a hard time tearing her eyes away from the forward windows long enough to read her screens.

  “I’m going to get us closer,” said Meyer. “I want to take a look at why one side of it is darkened,” he continued, as he pushed the Bulldog even closer and matched the slow tumble of the ship.

  “Carbon scoring readings,” said Schmidt. “The entire side of the ship must have been facing something really hot to do that,” she stated.

  “Look, towards the rear,” interrupted Meyer. “That look like melted metal to you?” he asked.

  “Affirmative,” agreed Schmidt.

  “Time to swing us round the other side,” Meyer said. Bulldog 2 began to traverse the hull, scanning the entire time.

  Sophie saw it first. “Helmut, there’s writing over to port!” she exclaimed.

  Meyer’s eyes focused on the area indicated by Schmidt, and he slowly flew the Bulldog to hover over the writing. They were speechless for a few moments.

  “Helmut, why is it we can actually read that writing?” asked Schmidt in a barely audible voice, quaking with shock.

  “What the hell have we found?” asked Meyer, in an equally alarmed voice.

  Bulldog 3

  “Bulldog 3, you are go for launch.” said the Launch Master into Pilot Antonio Russo’s helmet as he pressed the launch acceleration button on his console to send their ride hurtling down the launch tube.

  “We have good launch. Systems still report optimal,” reported rear-seater Michael Jonsey in a southern-accented, spectacularly deep bass voice from his electronic suite and tactical station behind Russo.

  “Jump in three. Two. One,” responded Russo as Bulldog 3 quickly jumped away. There was a small jump flare as Bulldog 3 reappeared near their target, dubbed Object 2.

  “Jump 1 complete,” announced Russo.

  “Object 2 on sensors, distance to target, 100 miles,” said Jonsey after a few moments. “Object is tumbling. We can match it,” he noted.

  “Matching target speed now,” said Russo, as he brought Bulldog 3 into a stationary position relative to the target.

  “Running long distance scan now,” said Jonsey.

  “Low levels of radiation, a bit higher than surrounding space,” Russo said, “Time for a closer look. I’ll bring us in slowly.”

  Bulldog 3 accelerated and cl
osed the distance rather leisurely. “Distance to target, thirty, now twenty, now ten miles…we’re reading a power spike. Weapons lock!” yelled Jonsey, interrupting himself when an alarm sounded and Russo reflexively triggered an emergency jump back to the rendezvous point with Cerberus.

  “Cerberus, this is Bulldog 3, be advised we experienced weapons lock on approach to Object 2,” said Jonsey, once the link to Cerberus opened and their sensor data transmitted. “Request further orders.”

  Ronin heard the message while he sat in the command chair of the bridge. He thumbed open his chair’s console commlink and asked, “Bulldog 3, this is Cerberus Actual. Say again. Weapons lock?”

  “That’s affirmative, Cerberus. We confirm weapons lock. Our sensor data shows a weak power spike accompanied by sensor lock and a targeting pulse,” responded Jonsey.

  “Captain, we didn’t get close enough to get a visual on the target before we jumped, so we still don’t know what it is other than it’s hostile,” added Russo.

  “Wait one,” responded Ronin, which meant the same thing as ‘wait a minute’.

  “Captain, I recommend we jump Bulldog 3 closer to the target, say thirty miles or so, and have them launch some drones on an intercept. We can aim a pair of them on a kinetic glide path to intercept Object 2, and use a third as a powered decoy,” said Lieutenant LeCroy, speaking from the Tactical station.

  “You thinking the drones can come in under the targeting horizon of whatever is out there before activating and trying to disable the defenses?” asked Ronin.

  “Affirmative, Captain, that’s exactly what I’m thinking,” replied LeCroy.

  “Transmit that plan to Bulldog 3 and tell them to keep us appraised,” ordered Ronin.

  Minutes later Bulldog 3 appeared 30 miles away from Object 2. “Jump 3, completed. Kinetic drones launching…they’re flying straight and true,” said Jonsey after a minute of activity. “Jump us to the launch point for the powered drone,” he said to Russo.

  Seconds later, Bulldog 3 appeared 30 miles away from Object 2, but this time back on the same approach vector as they initially occupied. “Jump 4, completed. Drone launch successful. Time on target, 30 seconds,” noted Jonsey as Bulldog 3 jumped again to another point 30 miles from the target.