Penance (RN: Book 2)

by David Gunner

  This was her first penetrating voyage on an actual genuine deep service vessel, or DSV, which meant everyday contact with full insignia command staff rather than the spit and polish junior officers who had dominated the majority of her near Earth service. Yet, despite the time she had served on the Bristol, she still found such relaxed proximity to upper echelon command staff to be a little unnerving. Up to this point the majority of her RNO service had been between the Earth and the stations or facilities local to the Sol system, with only the rare jaunt aboard a DSV to check for any susceptibility to Transit Induced Psychosis -TIP, or gate weariness as it was commonly known, the cocooning of the ship during gate travel.

  On entering gate travel, a ship essentially became a magnetic bullet injected between the fabrics of space time, like an orange pip squeezed between two fingers, without breaking any laws so time dilation never applied.

  During such transits the ship left behind the peripheral sensory stimuli: the sounds, observations and sensations of everyday life, with many first timers complaining of the ‘anechoic chamber’ affect, or the lack of stars out of what few windows the ship possessed. It was as if the Bristol had sunk into a tar pit, with no light visible to the front or rear, and only the keenest sighted able to make out a faint belt of speckled white, like a distant galactic arm, surrounding the midpoint of the vessel.

  Every crewman on reaching the rank of first hand had to take several trips on a DSV to check for susceptibility to TIP. The results of which could greatly impact your chances of ascending the promotion ladder.

  As many as fifty percent of RNO personnel were prone to gate weariness, which limited their ability to participate in the deeper missions and saw TIP susceptible officers reduced to berating their subordinates as a way of releasing the frustration generated by their inability to tolerate FTL travel.

  Piped in audio stimuli and 3D screens went some way to relieving the stress, but could never completely remove the feeling of disorientation and a low travel sickness. Those who did feel such qualms kept it to themselves, however, for fear of being rotated off the ship.

  Brula would be glad to see all that behind her. She had never felt the effects of gate weariness and this mission would earn her the gold collar dash that identified her as FTL mission tolerant. Not just travel tolerant, the ability to travel to a quarter station without sinking into a wide eyed, face scratching psychosis, but mission tolerant. The ability to stay on a ship for indefinite periods without succumbing to gate weariness. A sure source of future favours and her pick of the juicy assignments once she was sufficiently high on the ladder.

  Nearing the midpoint of the corridor, Brula passed by the officer’s quarters and neared that of Commander Denz. She glanced toward the door, a door behind which lay the answers to so many speculations and the mysterious screaming the crew often buzzed about, but she herself had never witnessed. There were those that claimed to know the reasons for the tormented wailings that came from within. People who whispered of supernatural ills, who claimed they were this far out to dispose of a demon, a demon trapped inside Denz that was to be released by a spoken incantation when the ship could go no further. Brula laughed openly, instinctively raising a hand to stifle her humor when she remembered where she was and the ridiculous things some people still believed in this day and age.

  Brula glanced forward on hearing the whirring sound of a bulkhead door opening, only to gasp lightly when the door slid open to reveal a tall slim silhouette. Her smile dropped as she cast her gaze to the floor, crossed her arms about her chest and attempted to draw herself in to disfigure as much of her womanly form as possible. The figure never moved for some seconds then stooped its head as it stepped through the doorway to become the slim lanky frame of rating Martin Levre, the scourge of the women aboard the Bristol.

  At six foot six, Levre was the tallest person on the ship, though any sense of formidability his height bestowed was reduced by a skeletal form that bordered on emaciated. He had insufficient muscle mass to fill out even the meanest sections of the grey overalls that hung off his bony frame as if from a skeleton, and flapped as he walked. Yet despite the lack of mass he possessed a deeper intimidation, an unnerving presence with an unerring serpent like suppleness that allowed him to approach targets undetected, where he used his bullying charm to ensure his indiscretions remained unreported. Yet despite his conquests elsewhere he’d never spent any time with the new girl, as she always used her looks to secure an officer or two in the mess and avoid his attentions.

  Levre watched as Brula came toward him in the cautious spring loaded step of a deer approaching an alligator infested drinking hole.

  He had tried to be nice to women, but his looks ensured no natural success with the long thin face, hooded protruding eyes and large thin lipped mouth reminding many of a carnival clown, and they stayed away. Levre was all too aware of his physical shortcomings and had developed a con man’s purse of subtle coercion, veiled harm and quick dissolving aids that ensured he got what he desired. However, this one was different. She could see his charms were more snake than prince and had managed to avoid him, but not today.

  Brula glanced at him as she approached. He smiled an acknowledgement, one of his more pleasant ones. Yet the loose skin rode onto jutting cheek bones turning it into a disturbing jeer that saw her lower her gaze and move to the right of the corridor as she approached. He moved as if on stilts with his long gangling stride bringing him to her in a few steps, and she moved so her arm brushed the wall.They were about to pass outside Denz’s quarters when a pale long fingered hand blocked her way like a parking barrier.

  “Let me past,” Brula said, her gaze still on the floor in front of her.

  “Hey. Estel, right?” Levre’s face twitched in a constant battle to keep his smile presentable, yet the loose skin conspired with his treasonous cheek bones to turn it into an unpainted clown face.

  “Yes, now please, let me pass,” she said in a single distressed breath without taking her eyes from the path in front.

  The blockading hand turned towards her in receptive greeting. “I’ve tried to say hi a few times before, but we always see to miss each other. I’m Martin, I work in the –“

  “I know who and what you are, Martin!” Brula snapped looking him straight in the eye. A Jack Russell’s tenacity in the face of a demon. “It’s a small ship. And everyone’s heard of magic pill, Martin hard pecker. The WREN wrecker. But you’ll have no luck here so just let me past.”

  This caught Levre by surprise. He knew he had a reputation but had never encountered a woman whose introduction was so coloured by it. The women in most of the crews he passed through knew of him through mess hall whisperings and greeted his inevitable advances with nothing more than a defensive expectation. Something he either broke through or destroyed them for via rumour and scandal. This direct acknowledgement of his intentions was the lamb seeing the wolf through the sheep skin and she needed to be destroyed.

  His smile faltered. The hollow companionable spark in his eye guttering to be replaced by a glint of dark brutal appetite as he considered this weak thing, so easily bent to his will given the time and the place, but here he had neither.

  “Look, I’m not sure who you’ve been speaking to, but – “ he started to say but stopped himself. He could see it in her upturned eyes. There was no viable pursuit here. It would be pill and punishment for this one. His mouth formed a yellow toothed jokers leer as he looked her over, a hand following the contours of her wide hips, slim waist and oh so ...oohhhh. He closed his fingers into a fist near her face, that perfect tear drop face. The olive skin, those full dark lips that quavered so, the arched then steeply descending eye brows the same colour as the black hair pulled tight across her scalp to fall in a long pony tail. And those big brown eyes, so full of fright and burning defiance that stood on a scaffold sure to collapse if he pushed that little bit harder. He liked it when they were scared, and so enjoyed the potency of the moment as they trembled befor
e him. He had to have her.

  He leaned closer, his face gaunt, his cheeks sunken and eyes protruding to a ghoulish degree as he exhaled over her. “You’ll be sorry you did this,” he hissed. “All the girls come to Martin. And Martin comes to all the girls.”

  “Let-me-past or I’ll report you,” Brula said. Despite a quaver her voice was firm, but her eyes were sick and scared. His tongue flicked snake like as he moved in to kiss her, only for Brula to force past the restraining hand, and then stop wide eyed, her mouth opening in a startled gasp when bony fingers gripped her ass. She spun to unleash a verbal assault only to see him already nearing the far door, his laughter cut off as it slid shut behind him.

  Chapter 4

  Canthouse entered the bridge and stopped to stifle a jaw stretching yawn before approaching the short, square shouldered form of Lieutenant Christopher Avery who stood between the navigational and tactical seats with his hands clasped behind his back as he stared at the view screen.

  “What is it Chris?” asked Canthouse, his fist almost disappearing into his mouth as he stifled yet another yawn.

  “I’m sorry to have awakened you, but Wheyer found something on the active scanners. It’s quite far away and we’re moving there now,” Avery said in his usual composed monotone without taking his eyes from the screen.

  “Is it a ship?”

  “We’re not sure as it was picked up by the feather edge of the active sensors at full gain, and it’s carrying too much white noise for us to be certain of anything.”

  “How far off the path is it?”

  “Wheyer can you ...” Avery said to the ops officer who nodded in the affirmative.

  The screen changed to the view of the stacked gridlines with spiral search paths, and zoomed into the three quarter point of the central spiral, which now had a dotted spoke protruding from one side toward empty space. At the end of the line flashed a small blue star.

  “How long until we reach it?” asked Canthouse, his attention on the blue star.

  “Twenty three minutes at present velocity. But I think we should have a visual any time ...”

  The screen blinked to a star field backdrop with a band of golden brown nebulae filling the middle third of the screen. The two officers stared at apparent empty space until a small spinning oblong became visible in the center screen. It grew in form and definition to resemble a sheared wooden fence post.

  “Wheyer?” Avery said without removing his attention from the screen.

  “It’s metallic. Approximately one and a half meters long. Spectral isotope signature ...confirms it’s a part of Governor Middlemore’s shuttle. Looks like one of the external engine bracings and it has sustained damage. It was sheared by a high energy interaction and very recently too according to the carbon signature.”

  “If this is from Middlemore’s shuttle then where’s the rest of it?”

  “I’m not sure sir,” Wheyer said working his console, “There’s more debris here, but nothing as large as this, and certainly not enough mass to –“ A repeating double chime stole Wheyer’s attention and he stared at his screen, his brow furrowed and lips poised as if to continue speaking.

  “Operations!” Avery said in a don’t keep me waiting tone.

  “Yes sir. Sorry. There’s something odd a hundred kilometres to port of the debris. I’m detecting a gate signature, but it’s not a gate signature as there’s far too much energy dispersal.”

  “Elaborate,” Avery said.

  “Computer’s leafing through it now,” Wheyer’s screen folded through several filters before stopping on an image resembling a rippling magnetic splash. He stared at the image as he fiddled with the gain controls until he could define it no further. “Sir, this is definitely a gate event, but the signature is enormous. Larger even than the, Formidable’s. ” Wheyer referred to the RNO’s only FTL capable carrier, several hundred thousand tonnes of carbon armour and strike craft.

  “Larger than Formidable?”Canthouse said moving to observe the ops screen. Avery remained where he was observing the ops image transferred to the main viewer. His thick brow furrowed as he stared intently at the screen absorbing all the details there were to see.

  “What could make a gate signature as large as a carrier without it being a carrier?” asked Canthouse, his gaze still on the ops panel.

  “Weps!” Wheyer said as he continued to work.

  “There are one hundred and four vessels capable of making deep transference signatures currently in service with the Earth pact forces,” the weapons officer said looking at the screen. “But there’s something odd here, that signature is too open, too unfocused to have been a fleet vessel.”

  “Weps is correct sir,” Wheyer said giving his touch screen a final resolving tap. “The computer has finished its analysis and has a resolution.”

  “It’s Chinese!” Canthouse said incredulously as he shifted his disbelieving stare to Avery who pivoted to look at him.

  “Wake the commander,” Avery said in a stern tone without moving his eyes from the first officer.

  “Aye sir,” Wheyer responded.

  “What the hell would the Chinese be doing in British space kidnapping RN personnel?” asked Canthouse.

  “We’ve no conclusive proof this is a Chinese signature yet, just borderline similarities,” Avery said nodding toward the data filled display.

  “Sir, I do believe the signature is definitely Chinese, there’s no mistaking these wave forms, but I don’t believe it came from any current Chinese fleet vessel.”

  “Could it be from an unlisted or private vessel?” asked Avery.

  “No, I don’t think so as the signature has no uniformity. It’s just too crude, too dirty to be any vessel in the EDP inventory,” Wheyer scratched the side of his head as he looked at his monitor, he caught his own actions in the reflection and lowered the offending hand.

  “Explain,“ Canthouse said.

  “Well, when a modern ship enters a gate it’s not unlike stabbing a sword into still water. There are some ripples, sure, but nothing to upset the ducks. It’s a surgical procedure. But this signature is akin to throwing a big rock from a great height, the result is a frothing turmoil that no one could miss. I haven’t seen such a turbulent signature since the first steps into gate travel, and even then they were more ordered than this. And there’s something else.” Wheyer tapped a key.

  A faint violet line appeared on the screen. One end flared to meet the center of the expanding magnet ripples, with the other following a crooked path into the distance like a diminishing tornado funnel.

  Avery stared for several seconds, “Is that a gate trail?”

  “Yes, sir,” ops answered.

  “And we can see it!” Canthouse said standing. “I always believed gate trails to be filament thin and invisible to the human eye.”

  “That’s correct sir. Under normal conditions gate trails are undetectable. Whatever made this is as crude as they come.”

  “Even so, why can we see it?” asked Avery.

  Ops stared at his screen thoughtfully as he pivoted his chair and tapped his pyramided

  fingers together in front of his face. “Well the image is enhanced so we can see it, but I believe the best analogy here is this gate trail is like an underground tunnel that has collapsed in on itself, with the ground above settling into a furrow along its length.”

  “All along its length?” asked Avery.

  “Yes. I believe so, sir.”

  “Then we can follow it,” Canthouse nodded as he followed Avery’s logic

  “Report!” Denz said in his gruff just been disturbed voice as he strode from the rear door with a dour air about him.

  The bridge crew stiffened to attention at his approach. Though Canthouse was his senior, it fell to Avery as duty Lieutenant to explain the situation to Commander Denz in his usual composed monotone. Denz’s grim air grew darker as Avery explained the situation, with his attention on the presented data the whole time, until his gaze snapp
ed to his second officer the moment a Chinese presence was mentioned.

  “And how far can we track it?” asked Denz.

  “Passive sensors lose it after twenty three AU’s commander. But it’s already beginning to evaporate,” ops said.

  “Is there any further data on the governor’s shuttle in the local area?”

  “No commander. There’s no evidence of transitional dispersion either as all the identifiable debris is localised in this area. I’d think it’s safe to say that the shuttle was stationary when attacked. Whatever left that signature snatched him from here,” ops said.

  Denz pursed his lips and nodded in accordance as Wheyer made his explanation. “Agreed. Excellent determination, operations officer.” Wheyer nodded his gratitude. “Gentlemen, I think what ever took the governor’s shuttle and left that,” he indicated the rippling magnetic signature with a dip of his head, “can be found at the other end of that transit-line. Do we have any idea where it leads?”

  Canthouse gestured to uncertainty. “Passive sensors estimate it runs somewhere outbound of the rim in the same rough direction as Trent quarter station. Ops if you could ...thank you.” The form of a triangle appeared on the screen with the base line representing the regular trade lane between Tristan de Cunha and Trent, with the top point the location of the Bristol. A violet line curled from their position in a lazy arc down the left hand side toward Trent quarter station, only to curve back into outer rim territory. “Of course, we can’t be very certain as we only have the passive data to work with.“

  The door at the rear of the bridge opened with the arrival of the relief bridge crew to replace those on duty. Denz signalled them to wait where they were with a raised palm until Canthouse had finished. His gaze lingered on Cummings with more than fatherly appreciation, who returned his attention with a simple red lipped smile.