by T J Kinsella
Captain appeared to be as good humoured and enthusiastic as usual, Braal could sense that, deep down, his friend was going through a crisis of confidence.
But as he watched Gillitzer busily tapping away at his datapad, he now saw something different. The captain’s actions were full of the same drive and determination that had been lacking in recent weeks. Above all, Braal could see that the fire had returned to Gillitzer’s eyes…and that was what worried him.
Picking up his own datapad, Braal left his station, and casually approached the captain’s chair. Although the crew were busy with the tachyon analysis, he wanted to give the impression that he was seeing Gillitzer on a routine matter. As first officer, he believed that voicing any concerns to the captain should always be done discreetly.
“I know what you’re thinking.” he said in the Captain’s ear.
“Oh really,” said Gillitzer nonchalantly, “and what, exactly is that?”
“You’re thinking that we can override the automated jump sequence, you’re thinking that we can make an unauthorised jump three years into the future…and above all, you’re thinking that we can complete the operation.”
“And what are you thinking?” replied the captain as he continued working on his calculations.
“I’m thinking you could get us all court martialled!”
“Only if we fail!” replied Gillitzer with a forceful whisper “and besides, you know the situation as well as I do, Pieter. Ever since the detection of the ‘Landstrum anomaly’, the high council have been running scared. Active operations could be shut down any day now. This could be the last chance we get to complete our mission.”
Gillitzer’s concerns were well founded. Professor Heidi Landstrum’s recent research and consequent detection of a potential temporal anomaly, had raised the possibility that Zeit Korp missions had already been the cause of a paradox event. Consequently, many of the High council’s scientific advisors were beginning to press for a suspension of all missions to the past, and the abandonment of Operation Phoenix.
“But you’re talking about…” exclaimed the commander, before he composed himself and returned to a whisper, “You’re talking about breaking the prime protocol. You can’t order the crew to do something that could potentially ruin their careers!”
“I don’t intend to order anybody,” replied Gillitzer bluntly. “I will ask them to volunteer.”
“Volunteer?” said Braal, “Do you actually think that the crew would break with Zeit Korp protocol, just because you ask them to?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Well…yes, I would,” Braal conceded, “But that’s different, I’ve served with you for years and you’ve saved my life on more than-.”
The commander stopped himself mid-sentence. No sooner had the words left his mouth, than Braal realised that the same could be said for the majority of the crew. Most of them had served on Gillitzer’s previous ship, the Kolibri, and would follow the captain through hell if he asked them to.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Braal continued, “particularly at the moment?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just that ill fortune seems to be following us,” said Braal, “with the loss of the Kolibri, and the all the teething problems with this ship, we seem to be on a run of bad luck.”
“Exactly,” said Gillitzer, “and that is precisely why it’s going to change for the better. We are well overdue some good luck.”
“Well, you’ll have to get everyone’s vote,” said Braal after a moment, “it has to be unanimous.”
“Of course,” replied Gillitzer, “I wouldn’t even consider it without the whole crew’s support.”
“I don’t think you will have any problem getting the votes from Ross, Harris and Leitner” said Braal, as he quickly glanced around the crew, “but I’m not sure if Schultz and Fischer will so willing to throw their careers away.”
The captain smiled in at Braal’s no nonsense appraisal of the situation. He too, was confident that most of the crew would support his proposal, but Ensign Schultz and Lieutenant Fischer had only recently been assigned to the Erloser and, consequently, both were unknown quantities. He was doubtful that either of them would agree to do anything that might jeopardise their military careers… particularly Schultz.
Schultz was young, headstrong and, typically of a newly commissioned Zeit Korp officer, fiercely ambitious. In the short time since she joined the crew, Gillitzer had formed the impression that she did everything by the book and avoided taking risks. He doubted that she would back his proposal, particularly given the fact that she was the ship’s Temporal theory advisor and, as such, it was her job to advise against such courses of action.
“Best of luck with their vote,” whispered Braal as he started back towards his station, “I hope you have a good speech ready.”
“Oh, I have,” replied the captain with a smirk.
Once Braal had returned to his station, Gillitzer went back to his calculations. He continued working until, after a minute or two, the ‘Analysis Complete’ prompt appeared in the top corner of his viewscreen. Then, after taking a deep breath to compose himself, he placed his hands on the armrests of the captain’s chair and slowly raised himself to his feet.
He, stood there for a moment, silently surveying the crew as they worked at their stations. He waited until, one by one, they each stopped what they were doing to return his gaze. Once the crew’s attention was fixed upon him, Gillitzer cleared his throat, in a manner which suggested he was about to say something of world-changing importance.
“Men and Women of the Erloser,” he said with all due ceremony, “it will not have escaped your attention that, in the past hour, this ship and this crew has become the first, since the beginning of Operation Phoenix, to travel beyond minute zero. It is an historical moment, not only for the Erloser, but for the Zeit Korp and for the entire Fourth Reich! For that, each of you has my congratulations and my gratitude.”
“We have raised the bar, Ladies and gentlemen...broken new ground,” Gillitzer continued, “I can think of no other crew in the Zeit Korp that is more worthy or deserving of the honour…and, whilst the data that you have already acquired could play a massive part in ensuring the success of Operation Phoenix, I believe that we, together, can accomplish more!”
The captain, paused for a moment, in an attempt both to add some gravity to his impending statement, and to gauge the crew’s reaction. For the moment, at least, they were hanging on his every word, relishing both their achievement and their captain’s praise. Gillitzer decided to press on with his speech whilst everyone was still caught up in the moment.
“I believe, that with the right planning,” he continued, “we could perform an unauthorised jump into the future. If we can get to a time period within reach of ‘Minute Zero’, I am confident that we could then complete the operation’s primary goal and retrieve our target.”
As soon as the proposal had been made, Gillitzer, began to gauge the reaction of the crew. They all wore expressions of nervous excitement, as they exchanged astonished glances with one another; All of them, that is, apart from Ensign Schultz.
As soon as the words, ‘unauthorised jump’, left the captain’s lips, Schultz’s whole demeanour changed. Unlike her crew mates, the young Ensign’s face conveyed a look, not of excitement, but rather one of concern...dismay even. It was a fact that did not go unnoticed by either Gillitzer or commander Braal.
“I know this venture is not without risk,” said Gillitzer, sounding a little less confident, “but the possible rewards are so great that the idea, I think, is at least worth considering.”
Before the captain could continue, Ensign Schultz began, somewhat hesitantly, to raise her hand. Sat, as she was, at the rear of the bridge, her gesture went unnoticed by most of the crew. It was not until the captain acknowledged her that everyone turned to see that she had her arm aloft.
“Yes, Ensign Schultz,” Gillitzer said with deliberate warm
th in his voice, “you have something to say?”
For a second or two Schultz said, and did, nothing. She just sat there in silence, nervously looking around at her crewmates. Then she slowly began to lower her hand, pausing momentarily to swipe away a lock of her dark brown hair, that was hanging in front of her eyes, and returned it beneath her cap.
“An unauthorised jump, Captain,” she began timidly, “would be a direct breach of several of our prime protocols, not to mention being a potential catalyst for massive temporal contamination.”
No sooner had Schultz spoken, than she began to regret her choice of words. Despite her compulsion to voice her mounting concern for the captain’s proposal, the last thing she wanted was to appear patronising or insubordinate.
“But obviously, you already know that.” She hastily added.
“Obviously...” Replied Gillitzer, unable to hide a slight smile, “but this wouldn’t be the first time a Zeit Korp craft has made an unsanctioned sortie.”
“But it would be the first that was premeditated.” replied Schultz, in a tone that was a little blunter than she had intended.
“There would, of course, be serious consequences if we were to take this course of action,” said Gillitzer, earnestly, “be under no illusion, if we fail, we face a court martial, possible expulsion from the Korp or even imprisonment.”
Once again, Gillitzer paused and looked around
