by Ralph Prince
Suddenly, the junior lieutenant dropped to the floor with a grunt and a resounding thud, as the gravity inducers were restored to working order. An unseen smirk crossed Jackie’s face, as she had been expecting the drop; she knew restoring gravity would be high on the captain’s priority list.
“Finally,” she said, breaking the stifling silence that had existed between the two for the better part of the past two hours. She relaxed her grip on the console and stretched her still aching limbs. “Don must be making progress back there.”
“So it seems,” Porter responded, as he resumed working.
“So, Porter,” Jackie asked, “where are you from originally?” Though they had served together for the past five weeks, she knew virtually nothing about the youthful system analyst. He seemed reclusive, spending most of his off-duty time in his quarters. When on the bridge, he paid little attention to anything except Nav-Tac. She had the feeling he preferred the company of computers to humans.
“New York,” he replied succinctly, sliding a tool out from under the panel.
Jackie could see immediately he was not the conversational type. “I’m from Canada,” she said, sitting in the tactical officer’s chair, “just outside of Edmonton. Have you ever been to Canada?”
“Ontario,” he answered, wondering why the med-tech was suddenly so interested in his personal life. “Hand me the induction meter.”
He was proving to be a challenge, but she knew there must be some topic that would trigger a response. “What brought you into the Space Force?” she asked, handing him the measuring device.
“My father,” Porter answered, adjusting the chemical lantern, brightening the underside of the panel he was repairing. “It was what he least wanted me to do.”
“Ah, the rebellious son,” she said. At least he was beginning to give extended answers. “I should have known. You didn’t seem like the adventuresome type. What did your father want you to do?”
“C.E.O. of his company,” he replied, the steadiness of his work never faltering. “Porter Enterprises, you must have heard of it. Anyway, I thought I could do more good in the Space Force research and development department than in a company that manufactured domestic and military androsynths. I didn’t expect them to send me into space as soon as the project was finished.”
“Porter Enterprises,” she repeated. She knew she had hit upon something at last. “No wonder your name sounded so familiar. You’re Willard Bartholomew Porter Jr.”
“The third, actually,” he corrected. He immediately regretted doing so, as that was what had earned him the nickname “Three” at the university. “My father used his influence to keep me out of the draft. I didn’t think it was fair that everyone else was eligible and I was exempt; so, I volunteered.”
“And why, if I may ask, did you choose to be a systems engineer?” she probed. “Most young cadets want to be combat pilots.”
“You mean most kids want to be combat pilots,” he retorted tritely. “I’m not a kid. I’m twenty-three years old. I chose a career in cybernetic systems research and development because it’s what I’m best at. I practically grew up in the labs of my father’s company, helping with the androsynth’s programming. During my third semester at Wardenclyffe University, I revised the algorithm that allows wetware memory to interface with complex mechanical systems. Without me, Nav-Tac would be nothing more than a fist-sized lump of bio-memory cells. After graduation, I joined the Space Force and worked with the design team that built him. He was supposed to be the technological turning point against the Quillans. They don’t have any problem hacking quantum-based computers, but Nav-Tac is organic-based and makes simple quantum computers as archaic as their bit-based predecessors by comparison. But, the war ended before he was fully tested. That’s the reason I ended up here. Besides,” he appended, wondering if that was the real reason, or if what the captain said about his father was true. “I thought it would be safer than being a combat pilot. I guess Captain Garris set me straight on that misconception.”
“Hey,” she said defensively, “take it easy on Don. What happened here wasn’t his fault. If not for him, we would probably be dead. Even your computer said there wasn’t any way to escape that black hole’s gravitational pull; yet, here we are, alive and well.”
“Yeah,” responded the youthful lieutenant unenthusiastically. He was getting too tired to even correct her assertion that Nav-Tac was merely a computer. “Alive anyway. I’m not so sure about the well part. Every active circuit on the ship was blown by your captain’s little stunt. With a lot of luck, I might be able to jury-rig it so we have half a chance of getting back home, and he so much as said I don’t belong here.” Recalling his confrontation with the captain, his anger began to renew. “Who does he think he is talking to me like that?”
“He’s your commanding officer,” Lieutenant Monet said sharply, rising to her feet, “Look, Porter, Don saved our lives back there, though I’m not exactly sure how. If you don’t like it, I’m sure he would be more than happy to take you back to that black hole and drop you in.”
“The man is reckless,” Porter said angrily, sliding from beneath the control panel and standing to confront her face-to-face. He noticed, for the first time, the med-tech’s pleasantly sharp features. His voice calmed to a normal tone. “His record clearly demonstrates that. On his last mission, his foolhardy actions caused the death of one crewman, and serious injuries to two others. Only a madman would make an Einstein-Rosen jump without precise calculations, but he does it routinely.”
“Lieutenant,” Jackie said, realizing that the circumstances and lack of rest had them both irritable. Pointless argument would get them nowhere, so she sought, instead, to educate him. “You may have seen the tele media version of the story, but I was there. To know what really happened, you would have had to have been there too.”
She reached into the darkest corners of her mind for the buried memories of the tragic mission. Six months had done little to ease the anguish. “The ship was hauling a classified cargo which we were ordered to keep out of enemy hands at all costs, even our own lives,” she said, reciting the events as they passed before her mind’s eye. “We were ambushed by a dozen enemy warships, with no place to run. If Don hadn’t been on the bridge that night, we would have been captured easily. As it was, the ship was severely damaged, and our on-board computer determined our only option was to self-destruct. Don found an alternative.”
She paused to organize her thoughts, carefully editing out the still-classified details. “Yes, he opened a wormhole without a course setting, but we never entered it. It was only a hundred-kilometer jump, and he tricked the warships that were pursuing us into flying through it and into their own control ship,” she continued. “If our cargo had been destroyed or fallen into enemy hands, it could possibly have changed the entire outcome of the war. On top of all that, during the battle, one of the drone ships somehow crashed into our cargo hold. Though it sustained some damage, and was non-functional, it was relatively intact. Apparently, the control ship was destroyed before it could send a self-destruct command to the drone. The data we were able to gather from it and the remains of the control ship turned out to be more valuable than the cargo we were transporting in the first place, as it offered us the first good look at their technology. The media greatly exaggerated the injuries sustained by the crew. Nash suffered superficial burns, and Singh, who was a synth, was battered around a bit in the cargo bay, but was repaired and reassigned to another ship within a week. Don was a hero, but because of the bad publicity, and the classified nature of the mission, he was grounded indefinitely. Two months ago, when the war ended, he was reinstated as a pilot and cleared of all responsibility. This is his, and my, first mission since.”
Stunned, the young lieutenant stood wide-eyed at the telling of the tale. The tele media report had given no hint as to the importance of the mission, having called it “routine”.
“But the death—” he began.
&
nbsp; “The ship was hit in the engineering section,” she recalled painfully. “That’s where Vic and one of the other crew members were.”
“Vic?” Porter asked. He had detected the importance of the name in the tone of her voice.
“He was my older brother,” she replied, rubbing the moisture from her eyes. “A plasma conduit ruptured and Vic was caught in the blast. Don said he was killed instantly.”
“I’m sorry,” he stammered, unsure of what to say. He felt he should be trying to comfort her in some way, but he knew there was nothing he could do or say to ease the pain he had forced her to relive. Sheepishly, he said, “I didn’t know he was your brother.”
“He was also Don’s best friend,” she added, fighting to staunch the quiver in her voice. “They were like brothers. That’s why he’s so defensive about it. I think he feels responsible in some way. It also probably doesn’t help that you took over his position on the ship, and physically you resemble him.”
“Still,” Porter said, “he had no right saying my father got me aboard for this mission. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and I’ve done it on my own.”
“Perhaps he was out of line,” Jackie admitted, “but he’s under a lot of stress right now, and this has got to be stirring up some bad memories for him. I know it is for me. In any event, he’s still your captain, and is deserving of your respect. I know it’s probably not what you’re used to, but your money doesn’t mean anything out here. You’re just one of the crew now. No more fancy parties and custom-tailored clothing; just duty shifts and standard issue uniforms.”
“Yeah, right,” Porter rebuked, gesturing toward her lingerie, “Just like yours.” He found his eyes dwelling a bit too long, and blushed slightly while struggling for a topic to change to. “You know,” he said, raking his fingers through his short blond hair, “I can’t believe we’re still alive. Nothing survives a trip into a black hole, and nothing escapes. I was sure we were goners. We must have jumped at the last possible instant.”
“Don’t try to figure out how Don performs his little miracles,” she advised, regaining her composure. “Just be thankful he always has one handy when you need it the most.”
“Miracles, huh,” Porter shrugged. “You make it sound as though he could repair the ship by saying ‘let there be light’.”
And there was light. At the precise moment of the lieutenant’s utterance, the hazy red glow of the emergency lights gave way to the full luminance of day-simulation mode.
“Not bad lieutenant,” Jackie said in jest. “What other miracles can you perform?”
“The captain must have repaired the primary power couplers,” he surmised. “I would have thought it would take at least—” he broke off suddenly, as he noticed the smirk on the med-tech’s face. “Another miracle I suppose?”
“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, crossing the bridge to her station. “We had better get back to work before Don comes up here to find out what’s taking so long.”
“I’m finished,” Porter replied, matter-of-factly. “The primary circuit modules and backup relays were totally fried, but the secondary modules are fine; I just had to run a bypass. As soon as the power cells in the equipment begin to recharge, everything should be working normally.”
As though on command, the instrument panels flared to life in a scintillating display of colored lights.
“I’m impressed,” said the med-tech, turning her attention to the communications panel. “Maybe you do have a few miracles of your own.”
With a smug smile, Porter turned to face the tactical station. “Nav-Tac, respond.”
“Nav-Tac reporting,” responded the virtual agent in a dull monotone voice. The holo-emitter began to glow slightly. “Energy level low; one moment please.”
“I hope he hasn’t been damaged,” the lieutenant muttered to himself. “He’s never been shut down before. I have no idea what that’ll do to his memory cells.”
“Nav-Tac reporting,” repeated the agent in its normal androgynous voice. The holographic head began to form in the halo of light above the image emitter. Slowly, as power returned, the image sharpened into the form of a floating hairless head. Its green eyes glanced around quizzically as a range of expressions crossed its face.
“Execute a systems diagnostic check,” Porter ordered, “and report.”
“Acknowledged, Lieutenant Porter,” Nav-Tac said. “It may take some time, however, as I seem to be experiencing slight disorientation from my recent shutdown, and the power cells have not yet fully charged.”
“My station still seems to have a few glitches,” Jackie reported. “I’m not getting anything at all on the communications frequencies, and the monitors are blurred.”
“I don’t understand why,” Porter said, crossing the bridge to her station and leaning over her shoulder to adjust the controls. “The backup module checked out fine. The monitors could be a problem with the external receptors or interference from outside the ship. Are you sure about the communications though? There should be something out there that we can pick up.”
“I triple checked,” she insisted. “There just don’t seem to be any signals at all aside from normal background noise. I don’t understand it, unless we’re still in the wormhole or are being jammed.”
“I confirm Lieutenant Monet’s analysis,” stated Nav-Tac. “Sensors detect no communication range frequencies in the vicinity and I am unable to get a reading from the omni-positioning system. However, the background noise indicates we are in normal space. I also am at a loss to explain it. The monitors, as well as many of the other ship’s functions, are reduced in efficiency due to a sixty-seven percent deficiency in the ship’s power level.”
“Can you get a fix on our location?” Porter asked, hoping they were nowhere near the black hole.
“Negative,” responded Nav-Tac. “With both the sensors and monitors in their current condition, it is virtually impossible to determine our exact location. We do appear to be passing through a debris field. Readings suggest it to be the tail of a comet.”
“Oh, great,” Jackie said. “Passing through a comet tail is a bad omen. Like we need more bad luck.”
“Don’t tell me you go in for that superstitious nonsense,” Porter scoffed. “It’s just a debris field.”
“Based on the luminance of the coma and position of the tail in relation to the head of the comet, we seem to be approaching a star,” Nav-Tac continued as he gathered more data, “I have not collected enough information to identify it.”
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what the captain wants to do when he gets here,” Porter said, leaning against the instrument panel. “Nav-Tac, continue gathering data on where we are. Aside from that, there’s nothing more we can do.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Jackie declared, rising from her chair. “I’m going to put on some warmer clothing.”
CHAPTER 5: Electric Sheep
The two crewmembers stood silently at their respective stations, and watched as the captain meticulously examined the newly repaired instrument panels. No circuit escaped his scrutiny; no component evaded his search.
Finally, he settled against the front control panel and looked incredulously at Lieutenant Porter. “It’s kind of sloppy, but it’ll do until you can print new primary modules,” he said, causing the smug grin to melt from Porter’s face. Without further comment, he turned his attention toward Jackie. “You still haven’t picked up anything on any of the communication channels?”
“Nothing,” she responded. “The equipment checks out perfectly, but there just doesn’t seem to be anything out there to receive. I can’t even ping the omni-positioning system. I’ve sent out distress signals, but there’s been no reply. I tried bouncing a few signals and they came back, so we’re not being jammed. I’m at a loss to explain it.”
“What have we got on our location?” he asked, addressing Porter.
“Not much,” he replied warily. Since his return to th
e bridge, the captain had shown no sign of his earlier anger. “Nav-Tac says we’re nearing the habitable region of a planetary system. It appears to be a G2 star similar to Earth’s, with seven planets in the heliosphere, many of them with satellites, lying in an ecliptic plane. The first four are terrestrial, followed by two gas giants, then an ice giant. It also has the usual assortment of dwarf planets, asteroids, meteoroids, and, obviously, comets. He estimates planets three and four to be the only ones in the circumstellar habitable zone. It matches no known planetary system. Mapping of visible stars has also produced nothing he can identify.”
“So, Don,” Jackie asked, “What’s our next move?”
“We certainly can’t find our way back to Earth in our present condition,” the captain said, settling into the pilot chair. “With the sensors and monitors in the condition they’re in, we can’t even pinpoint our location. We can’t just wait for someone to find us, because our power reserves aren’t replenishing as fast as they should, and it’ll be days before anyone even realizes we’re missing. It looks like our best chance lies in finding a place to land so we can complete repairs. I just wish we could identify the planetary system we’re approaching.”
“We could be anywhere in the galaxy,” Jackie said, taking a seat at her own station.
“I don’t think so,” responded the commander, stroking his chin. “We couldn’t have been unconscious for more than eight to ten hours; at least judging from my beard growth. Even through a wormhole, we can’t have traveled more than a hundred parsecs in that amount of time. We must have jumped on a trajectory that sent us deeper into uncharted space.”
