The Definitive SpaceFed Trilogy (SpaceFed StarShips Trilogy).: A thrilling, action-packed Sci-fi space adventure. (SpaceFed StarShips Series Book 8)
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“OK boys,” came Andromeda's voice over the Force craft's sound systems. “We're up, and on our way. Hold tight, it could be a bit scary. I haven’t done this before.”
“Now she tells us,” Brian complained.
“I heard that,” Andromeda said. “Watch out I don't leave you there.”
“That's enough,” Frank muttered in the background. “Get on with it.”
After a few moments, the FC's rose slowly in sync as the small fusion reactors powered up to feed the lift propulsion drives.
Once the tether slack had been taken up, the three Force craft and alien pod slowly, but surely, ascended through the polluted air towards space. Moving faster and faster as the effects of gravity and atmosphere reduced.
Within ten minutes, the Andromeda could be seen swelling above them.
It didn't just feel like they were going home to the Force craft crews. The sleek golden ship shining against the star-studded backdrop was their home.
Light began to emit, mid-way along Andromeda's hull as her loading bay door opened to receive the pod.'
The triangular formation slowed then stopped one-hundred metres from the ship's opening.
The tethers were auto disconnected from the alien’s pod as a Force craft gently nudged it into the holding bay. Then all three of them entered the bay, turned off their force field generators and parked in their allotted places.
By the time, the crew had disembarked and were safe in a pressurized area of the holding bay, the pod was being pulled inside the ship by Andromeda’s magnetic-tractors, for later examination.
Then the specimen of human-like skeletal remains was transferred to the cryogenics laboratory. Once everything was inside, the hull section closed, and the holding bay was re-pressurized.
During the next three hours, the alien's survival pod was cleaned and sterilized then left ready for the scientist's study program to start.
Then, nine scientists and engineers entered the pod. With Brian and Susanna from the Data and Encryption Department accompanying the comms and computer engineering specialists.
All eager to get to understand the alien ship’s computer and information systems technology.
The first and most welcome event for all of them was the removal of the alien's body. Even in death, he had a strange and sinister look about him.
“What do you want to try first?” Jim Pickering, from computer sciences, asked.
“Well, we daren’t try to externally power the computer up,” Micky Trent answered. Pushing his long and pointy-chinned face close to a bunch of burnt out cables.
“Can we take out the data modules, or at least copy them?” Tony asked.
“If we can locate them,” interjected Susanna. “But what would they look like anyway?”
Not like ours, you can bet, she thought to herself.
“No idea, nor the type of operating system they use,” Brian pointed out.
“The structure, the way they think, all of it has to be entirely different from the way we operate.”
“Then let’s try to remove the computer,” Micky suggested. “And get it to our lab. We can work on it safely there.
Oh, and while we're removing the computer, we might as well remove the communication's system for Susanna and Brian. There’s not enough room for them to work next to us.”
“Good idea,” he agreed.
Both Jim and Micky started to remove cables, making sure they were color coded for future identification.
While Susanna and Brian decided to have a general look around. Then, seeing nothing else they could do at present, left for their own labs.
It took another hour to remove both systems from the alien's console.
Then, after a thorough search, logging and taking samples of anything that looked interesting, the remainder of the investigation group also left. Closing the survival pod's door behind them, as they went off for a well-earned break.
Sometime later, within the darkness of the wreck of the alien's pod, something stirred, having remained hidden from the human intruders.
It detached itself from its usual resting place within the pod's wall. Then, hovering, it drifted towards the door. Paused, humming for a second, and the door opened, and it moved swiftly out and into the holding bay, with the pod's door closing silently behind it.
‘Captain,’ came Andromeda's soft voice in his mind, as their link was activated.
‘What is it?’
‘We have an intruder in the holding bay. I think it's from the alien’s pod.’
“Get some Marines there quickly, and throw-up a protective force field around the bay if you can,” Frank ordered. Hurriedly dressing as he walked towards his cabin door.
In the corridor, two marines ran past them, heading for the holding bay with weapons drawn.
On reaching it, he like everyone else looked at the surreal drama unfolding before them. They were protected by Andromeda's security force field, from anything within the bay, even with the bay doors open. But were unable to do anything.
The alien object, about the size and shape of a rugby ball, hovered in the centre of the holding bay humming continuously.
‘It's trying to make me open a warp field in here. We’re right. The aliens do need a wormhole, Andromeda said, through her link with Frank.
Frank started to sweat, at the thought of a wormhole being created within the ship.
‘You mustn’t allow it to create a wormhole Andromeda. Not at any cost.’
‘Don't worry, it thinks this is its mother ship. So at least it's not as smart as we thought.’
The alien object now seemed to be agitated. The humming becoming erratic as Andromeda started to probe its memory and systems.
‘Be careful, Andromeda,’ Frank mentally told her, as he watched events through their shared link.
‘We've struck gold. Can you see Frank?’
‘Yes,’ he replied, watching as Andromeda's probing showed that the alien object was only an information gatherer.
The object couldn't create a wormhole. Only the mother ship could do that.
But, it could act as a transceiver once it was in transit through a newly created wormhole. Then, being able to provide virtually instantaneous communication between itself and its mother ship. Effectively reducing seven light-years in real-time, to just a few minutes, and a significant advantage for whoever controlled the alien 'object.’
Everything was being recorded by Andromeda, using the object's own operating system and programs.
Star-maps showed planets newly sterilised by the alien race for subsequent occupation. The battle with Axon's ship. Their starship numbers and fleet locations, including the fleet on route to Sector 2.
The object continued providing them with information about its species, and about how far their empire stretched.
Now, with this confirmation that the aliens were indeed Crillons. The human’s understanding of the Crillon race, and of their empire was growing.
With the biggest prize of all, being the whereabouts of the Crillon's home planet, or Crilla as they seemed to refer to it.
Suddenly Andromeda stopped probing. “It's no good. It's finally realized, from its latest memory update, that we're not its mother ship and that the mother ship no longer exists.”
The object's humming suddenly stopped altogether. It's outside surface changing from red to white as it heated up, and the force field around the object shrank tight.
Then Andromeda quickly opened the holding bay door. Just in time, and just enough, to eject the object into space.
A few seconds later it self-destructed twenty kilometres from the ship, dissipating in space almost as fast as it had exploded in it.
Afterwards, the bay door slid closed, the hold re-pressurized and normality returned once again to the ship.
“The crisis is over,” Andromeda informed everyone.
Frank felt a hand on his shoulder, which startled him. He turned quickly to see that it was Susanna, then re
alized just how jumpy he must have been feeling.
“That was close,” she said.
He didn’t answer at first, just looked deeply into her eyes for a few seconds, making her blush.
“Sorry Sues, but the crisis is only just beginning.”
She moved back slightly. “That bad, is it?”
“Well, we've got loads of info from that alien object. Information on the crash site, the buildings, and the survival pod. Everything. It's whether we can decipher and make use of the information fast enough.”
“Then we'd better get on with it,” she crisply replied. Turned on her heel and heading off to her lab.
“I have a break at seven o'clock. Don't be late,” Susanna called over her shoulder.
Frank sighed then smiled slightly, feeling just a little better. “Andromeda,” he ordered. “Make sure all the data and recordings are uploaded to the relevant people.”
“On it Captain.”
“Oh, what am I today Andromeda, Frank or Captain?”
“Sorry. Frank, of course. I'll try harder to remember that.”
“If you can't even remember my name, there’s no hope,” he replied. Grinning wryly as he spoke.
“Well, look who's got a ‘quirk’ now.”
“OK. Set up a conference with all department heads for tomorrow morning at nine.”
“Setting up now Frank,” Andromeda confirmed. “Will you be staying with Susanna tonight?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so.”
Frank grinned, then directed his thoughts to order her to remove her mind link.
Suddenly he felt alone. He didn't like the feeling. But he did need some time to himself, so he started walking back to his cabin and collided with Alan, who was in a real hurry.
“Sorry Alan, my mind was elsewhere.”
“That's all right. I was going a bit fast anyway.”
“What's the rush?”
“Astro need some information really quick. See you later,” he said and hurried off almost at a trot.
‘Good grief,’ Frank thought, then carried on to his cabin.
He settled down in his cabin with his tactical pad close by. His attention focused on his main computer link, with its continuously changing data-stream, chart displays, and chit-chat that was going on between departments.
He looked at Astro. ‘Interesting,’ he thought. 'Alan seems to be involved in his own line of research, the alien's home planet location.’
He worked on, until ten to seven. Taking in all the information and generating his own ideas and strategies.
Susanna had emphasized that her refreshment break was at seven o'clock, and he was not to be late.
It was usual to try to keep some sense of day and night on board, not always possible of course, but he would make damn sure that he wasn't late for her.
Seven o'clock and Frank was outside Susanna's door and making sure that he could be seen, he tapped the annunciator panel.
“I'm coming, Frank,” came her voice. The door slid open, and Susanna stood there, dressed only in a robe. “Come on in.”
“Susanna. You don't know how much I've missed you,” he said, as a sweet fragrance hit him as he stepped into her room. Turning, he pulled her to him and gave her a long kiss.
The door had shut long before they parted from their embrace. Her blue-green eyes still peering into his, as he ran his fingers through her hair.
“How far will you go?” she asked.
“Do you mean after the Crillons?”
“No, silly. Us?”
“Oh well. That depends on you,” he replied, smiling.
“No, it depends on both of us.”
“Well. If and when we get back to Earth, maybe you'll consider making an honest man of me?”
She laughed.
“Well?”
“Of course, I want to marry you,” she replied, pressing herself against him. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“Then we shall eat.”
“Must we, right now?”
“Yes, of course. Control yourself,” Susanna replied, winking at him.
“Pour some of that ‘wine,' I won't be long.”
She disappeared into the kitchen area. Returning with two plates of steaming, delicious food that had been prepared by the food vending machine. They ate without a word.
“That was excellent,” Frank said, finishing his wine.
“Yea, not bad for a machine,” she jokingly replied.
Then, after Susanna had set her auto-cleaning system in operation, she reached out her hand and took him to their bed.
Chapter 18.
No Return.
Next morning at nine, the conference began. The usual suspects were in attendance, plus Micky Trent, Tom White and Peter Harris.
Alan sat next to Frank, with the rest spread around the conference table. Everyone shuffling their pads and papers around in a noisy bustle.
“Settle down folks,” Frank said.
He had to admit that he felt more at home chairing meetings where everyone was present than holographic meetings. They seemed to interact more, with everyone in the same room.
The bustle quickly subsided.
“Good,” Frank said. “Sync your pads to the Holo-net. A larger display will allow all of you to see everything clearly.”
Then ten green lights illuminated confirming sync.
“I know everyone is dying to start. But first, I'm very curious about what Astro have up their sleeve, as Alan appears to be champing at the bit.
Tim, you'd better start. What have you got?”
“Right,” Tim said, rubbing his chin nervously.
“We think the alien's home planet might be in the Zeta Herculis group, possibly Zeta Reticuli but more likely Zeta Two.
Both show physical characteristics similar to the Sun’s. Zeta 1 is a G3-5V class and has 96% of the mass of our Sun. While Zeta 2 is a G2V, with 84% of the Sun's mass.
Their hydrogen and helium levels are similar. But their beryllium is very low. This is very strange, especially for main sequence stars because this gives them a lower luminosity.
Both are yellowish-orange, even when looked at from here, and are some 39 light-years from our Sun, but only 22 from here. They also have a couple of planets and an asteroid belt.”
He stopped, looking around to make sure everyone was listening.
“The most exciting piece of information that we extracted from our little alien chum, however. Is the presence of a permanent wormhole between the two stars,” Tim finished, pausing again, more for effect than anything else.
“But their charts, star positions, and all their other data are from a different reference point than if we were seeing them from our Solar system. So we may not be entirely correct.”
“Good work Tim. Ned, have you anything to add at this stage?”
Ned looked at Tim, who nodded at him.
“Yes. Well, we've all seen Tim's data,” he said, pausing to gather his thoughts.
“I know we're all guessing, but Quantum's position seems to be the same as ours.
We’ve noted that the aliens refer to their planet as ‘Crilla, and this leads us to believe that it’s at the other end of the wormhole.”
“And the wormhole’s not as stable as they would like,” chipped in Tim.
“That’s right,” Mark Trask interjected.
“It seems that the wormhole’s proximity to both Zeta 1 and 2 is affecting its stability.
With massive gravitational forces stretching or pulling it outwards, almost like a rubber balloon expanding. Causing ships in transit through it to swing violently.”
“So, if a one of our ship’s touched the side of the wormhole. Would it be flung out into Normal-space?” Alan asked.
“Yes, and even if the ship survived the exit, it would be lost forever in space,” Mark replied.
“But wouldn't the ship’s warp engines get the ship home?” Susanna queried.
“That's right Andromeda, isn't it?”
“I'm afraid it is. Plus, we wouldn't have expected to travel so far. So, unless we could manufacture another warp-core module we would be lost in space ourselves,” she replied.
Andromeda thought for a moment.
Then added. “I know our second-generation cores are going to at least double the distance, so it’s a shame they aren’t ready for service.”
“Just as I thought,” muttered Alan.
“Well, we've already used up about 42 light-years of jump-quota, and we're about another eight to ten light-years from Tau Ceti. So, if we continue to Zeta to catch these Crillons, we won’t have enough jump-quota to get back to Earth,” Tim told them.
“Frank, are you thinking what I am?” Ned asked.
“What?”
“That we try to disrupt that wormhole?”
“It's a possibility, Ned. But it may well be a one-way ticket then if we go on.”
“What are our chances of getting home afterwards, Andromeda?” Alan asked.
“The sums are plain enough to see,” she answered as the Holo screen came to life for the first time.
“If you don’t remove the Eridani to Tau Ceti and the Tau Ceti to Earth legs,” there was a silent pause. “We might die of old age before we get back.”
As she said this, an image of a withered-looking Alan hung in front of them all.
“Thanks,” he grunted.
“Well, it’s pretty obvious what we need to do, but we'll think more on this later,” Frank said.
“Right Jim, what has your computer division achieved?”
“We managed to get the machine started. Then had to find the clock speed adjustment, and memory register numbering, before we could make any sense of it,” he paused.
“Then between us, we were able to come up with a 'loose' form of Crillon language that was good enough to run the system.”