The Harbok kept their cloaking devices off and moved slowly toward him. What’s going on, he wondered? He returned the screen to normal mode, keeping one eye on the three Harbok while checking for any other nearby ships. There were none. Off in the distance, the battle of the baseships still raged, but he had no time for that now. He returned to the tactical mode, but he made no move as the three Harbok surrounded him. His fingers itched to do something, but he had no plan.
What were they doing? They seemed to understand that he was not armed. Were they offering him a chance to surrender, or were they just taking their time, playing with their prey before killing it? At any moment, his screen would begin glowing brightly from three simultaneous hits. How long would the shield hold up?
He selected maximum shield and began jumping the ship in small jumps, keeping within the boundary of the Harbok ships while he thought hard. Surrender was a possibility, but aside from the fact that it was distasteful, it was not a sure thing. He had no way of knowing the Harboks’ orders or their intentions. Even if he surrendered, what were Arlynn’s chances of revival? She said she would need skilled medical care to recover from the Cold Sleep. And what about the risk to Earth when the Harbok discovered an Earthman helping Arlynn’s people?
No, he could not surrender.
He still had one hole card left to play. He looked aft to the StarDrive console. Arlynn had told him not to use it. Period. Not only was he sure to get hopelessly lost, he might get sucked into the sun.
Well, he was already in great danger, and either option was better than getting blown up.
He punched the max shield button and stood, swaying with a sudden bout of dizziness. He steadied himself on the armrest of his chair for a moment, then he staggered over to the StarDrive console. He leaned over it, studying the settings. What had Arlynn taught him about its operation? All he could remember was that it was computer controlled, and that he had been completely lost trying to program it. The settings were as Arlynn had left them. Were they sufficient? He only needed a short trip. Had she set up a short trip or a long trip for practice? If he could just get the ship started, he could probably find a stop switch that would pull him back into this universe. Maybe.
He returned to the side of his chair and reached over the armrest to position his jump marker right next to one of the lurking Harbok ships. He punched the ‘execute’ button three times, quickly stepped back to the StarDrive console, and slammed his fist on the ‘go’ switch. Nothing happened. It just started blinking at him.
His shield started glowing. The Harbok had lost patience with him.
“Go, darn you, go!” he shouted as he slammed his fist down on the button again.
It went.
Chapter Nineteen
Colonel Kannick wearily surveyed the remains of his command. Friends forever lost, so many of them. Some two-thirds of his fighter crews, people who only hours before had been laughing, talking, vibrant human beings, were gone forever. Their losses were beyond tragic.
And the baseship. Surveys had not even begun, but the damage was staggering. The ship might never be fully operational again. This battle was, by far, the greatest physical loss his people had yet sustained in their war with the Harbok.
There would be changes in their relationship with the Harbok following this day, of that he was certain.
He had great difficulty focusing on his report to the admiral. Faces kept flashing before his eyes, men and women once alive. And to think it had all been for nothing. Jarl, Arlynn, Greg Hamilton, and the stolen Harbok secrets had evaporated in a tremendous flash of light way off in the distance. Where four ships had been, there suddenly were none. The Harbok baseship had moved off after the flash, taking its fighters with it, its battle won because the cloaking device had not fallen into enemy hands.
He banged his fist on the desk in frustration, tears once again coming unashamedly to his eyes.
A tentative knock sounded at the door to his office. Yes, they would be knocking tentatively, he knew. Everyone tiptoed around everyone else right now. There was no proper way to deal with the grief. Maybe there never would be. He wiped tears away with the arm of a sweat-stained tunic and said, “Come!”
To his surprise, an unfamiliar ensign stepped through the doorway and said, “Sir, I’m sorry to bother you, but my Section Chief can’t spare the time, and since you’re done now . . . oh . . . sorry, sir. I worded that poorly.”
“It’s okay, Ensign. We are done now, not with the cleanup but, yes, we are done now. What’s on your mind?”
“Well, sir, you’re a respected StarDrive scientist. I have a wild idea, based partly on fact and partly on supposition, that Arlynn and Jarl might still be alive, but I don’t have anyone else to discuss it with.”
“What are you talking about Ensign . . . Bader is it?” Kannick asked, peering at the name tag on the ensign’s uniform.
“Yes, sir. I heard what happened to her ship and got to wondering. I pulled up a recording when I had a spare minute. Have you seen it?”
Kannick shook his head. “I was busy at the time, but my screen picked up the flash. What are you getting at? How can they be alive when there’s no one there?”
“Well, sir, I just graduated from the Academy. My specialty is the StarDrive, but I’m newer to it than just about everyone else on the ship. Because of that, I might have remembered something that was discussed briefly during my training, something that is so fundamental that everyone else has forgotten they know it. Can I have access to a screen?”
Kannick got up reluctantly and escorted Bader to a squadron briefing room where he let Bader run the show. He soon found himself watching a recording of the battle out by Arlynn’s ship on long range scanners. Seeing Kannick’s distress and impatience, Bader skipped the early minutes of the engagement. Kannick watched in dismay as his friends died, though he was impressed as Arlynn’s unarmed ship maneuvered to help them.
But wait, he asked himself. Who’s doing the driving? Arlynn was in Cold Sleep, and Greg Hamilton was untrained.
“Ensign, who’s driving her ship?” he asked Bader.
“Sir? Isn’t Colonel Jarl? Or Arlynn? Everyone knows it was her ship.”
“Bader, you might as well know that Jarl died on Earth and Arlynn was in Cold Sleep. The only other person on the ship was an Earthman.”
“An Earthman! You mean she stole an Earthman, too?”
“I don’t have any more details, but someone is flying the heck out of that ship. Who?”
Bader raised his eyebrows in response, but there was no answer. “Well, it doesn’t matter,” Kannick continued. “They’re gone now. What else do you have to show me?”
Bader let the recording continue. Kannick watched in awe as three Harbok surrounded the ship and closed in. Stalemate. Did the Earthman even appreciate his predicament?
Kannick suddenly got his answer. Arlynn’s ship jumped, several times. The three Harbok moved in tighter and opened fire. Her ship continued jumping frantically within the tiny confines of the Harbok formation, practically jumping right on top of them. Bader let the recording run until the bright flash occurred, then he let Kannick study the empty space where four ships had been. Finally, he backed the recording up to the instant just prior to the explosion.
“Sir, please note the condition of Arlynn’s ship.”
“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? Her shield is taking simultaneous hits from three Harbok ships. It’s going to fail and take the other three ships with it in the explosion.”
“Well . . . maybe. You might be jumping to conclusions, or you could be very right, and I will soon be very embarrassed. Let me point out that at this instant, just prior to Arlynn’s disappearance, and I use the word disappearance rather than explosion, her shield is in perfect working order. When I heard about what happened, I remembered something from my early StarDrive training. Remember when we first developed the Drive and were testing it? Remember what happened to those first few escort ships? And reme
mber why we now have stringent rules requiring hundreds of miles between ships prior to engaging the StarDrive?”
Kannick sat up straight, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the display of four perfectly healthy ships. “You might be on to something here, Bader,” he breathed. He leaned forward with a hand rubbing the stubble on his chin, willing more clarity from the recording. He turned amazed eyes to Bader. “Now that you mention it, I do remember what happened to those escort ships in the beginning. They disappeared! The crew of the ship using StarDrive didn’t even know it until their return since they were instantly somewhere else, but . . .” Kannick paused, tuning out his surroundings while he thought hard. A long time passed, and Bader finally sat down, not something he ordinarily did in the presence of a senior officer.
Suddenly, Kannick’s chair flew backwards as he jumped up to peer intently at the screen, willing it to give up its secrets. “Who are you?” he murmured.
The next thing Bader knew, Kannick was striding out the door. “Sir! Wait!” Bader scrambled after him, catching up down the hallway. “Sir, maybe I’m wrong! If Arlynn was in Cold Sleep, there was no one driving the ship. And if she wasn’t in Cold Sleep, which obviously she wasn’t, she’d never have thought about the StarDrive. You know how ingrained our training is. No one in his or her right mind would even consider using the StarDrive this close to the primary.”
“You’re right, and you’re wrong, Bader,” Kannick barked without slowing his stride. “Arlynn was in Cold Sleep, and yes, no one in their right mind would think of using the StarDrive, but someone who didn’t know any better did use it. That someone was the man from Earth, Greg Hamilton.”
Bader stopped in his tracks, staring at Kannick as if he had gone mad. Kannick continued down the hallway for a dozen paces, then he stopped and turned. “Come on, Bader. We have work to do.”
The next twenty-four hours were feverishly busy. Endless hours at computers attempting to pinpoint a search area proved fruitless – use of the StarDrive this close to the primary star was not permitted for good reason. There were simply too many variables for even their best computers to calculate where a ship would end up. And they had no idea what settings Greg Hamilton had used. Kannick narrowed the field considerably by examining the last settings from ships that had made the same last jump Arlynn had made on her way to this system. If she had not changed those settings, and if the Earthman had not changed them, they had a rough starting point.
Even with those assumptions though, the size of the search area staggered the mind. Kannick argued hard and finally won approval to patch together two squadrons of volunteers from among his remaining ships, then he put together a plan that was hotly debated. Proper use of the StarDrive required some five or six weeks travel at top speed away from the primary. Only then were they far enough away to safely activate the system. Kannick felt strongly that Greg and Arlynn did not have that much time. Instead, he authorized a risky alternative. Each ship would go to the same spot where the Earthman had been when he activated the Drive. They would be on the same course and at the same speed. Each would activate its Drive for a different amount of time, then turn it off. If they came out of StarDrive, meaning they did not hit something, they would be completely lost, but who cared? They could listen for Arlynn’s distress call while they got busy locating themselves. A tremendous volume of space could be reached quickly in this manner, and several weeks could be spent widening that area based on the speed of light of her distress call.
He outfitted twenty-four ships with the supplies needed to maintain long-term Cold Sleep. Doctors briefed crews in the use of the equipment, and they provided guidance for the administration of various medicines as a last-ditch effort to save the Earthman, should he need help. The medical people were reluctant on this matter, but there were no other alternatives.
On the following day, twenty-four ships left the ailing baseship at timed intervals, all of them headed for the area of the Earthman’s final battle. Against the admiral’s orders, Kannick occupied the command seat of the last ship.
Chapter Twenty
Greg scratched the dark stubble of an unshaven cheek and rubbed once again at red-rimmed eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back into some semblance of order while he considered the effort needed to clean up. He had showered, shaved, and changed into fresh jeans and another flannel shirt two days ago. They were his only remaining clean clothes. Another shower and shave might restore his spirits, but he discarded the idea—time was an element he could not predict at the moment. As it stood, there might not be enough time even now to complete the task he had set for himself.
He curled deeper into the command seat and allowed his thoughts to wander. His eyes looked out through the forward screen to the stars, but his gaze was oblivious to the silent scrutiny of the void. He concentrated inward, seeking organization, a place to begin. This tale would be told, must be told. He just needed to decide on a beginning.
He and the ship had become friends, and they talked frequently, though the conversations were completely one-sided. “Ship,” he said into the air, “Arlynn claims she set you up to record everything. I hope it’s true, because whoever finds us needs to know what happened.” He paused as a dry cough wracked his body, but he shrugged it off. It wasn’t the first, and he knew there would be more.
“Her people promised to come,” he continued raggedly. Then with more emphasis, “They promised we would not be forgotten, but can they find us? In time? Things are grim here—your medicines weren’t designed for me, and Arlynn’s in even worse shape.”
Arlynn . . .
Her very name brought pause to his thoughts. Arlynn . . . an alien being. This ship was living proof of her alienness, yet he constantly found himself forgetting that fundamental tenet of their existence. She seemed so human. Then from out of nowhere some innocent comment by one of them would bring everything to a grinding halt, reminding them of the vast gulf separating themselves and their cultures. Though similar in appearance, other differences challenged the concept of profound.
Distracted, Greg turned in the seat and let his gaze idly wander the bridge behind him. Then he blinked, his eyes losing their glazed look as he focused, really focused on the wonderful arrays of dials and gauges, winking switches, keyboards, monitors, and the other seats, all empty. Had he, an Earthman, really piloted this strange and wonderful craft into space? Had he, with the ship’s help, actually fought a battle against impossible odds, a battle they had won . . . sort of?
His thoughts shifted from intricacies within the ship to remembrance of Outside and he turned back to the forward screen to let his eyes take in the cosmos. Intellectually he had known he was in space, deep space, but the past week had been so intense that he had not had the luxury of letting it sink in. Permanent smile lines, lately unused, etched themselves into their old accustomed places as his spirits lifted. He pushed illness aside for the moment. His mind sharpened, and he returned with more eagerness to the job at hand. His part of the story began with a simple fishing trip to Canada over the Fourth of July holiday.
“Okay, Ship,” he said confidently, his decision made about where to start. “Here goes. I sure hope you’re recording this. My name is Greg Hamilton. I’m from Earth . . .”
* * * * *
“So that’s how this Earthman got here folks. I could get back to Earth if I had the time, but I’ve worked for days on this, and the shortest flight plan I’ve been able to devise looks like it would take several months. Arlynn doesn’t have that much time, and I probably don’t either. Even if we did get back, the Harbok would be waiting for us.”
His story was done. It had taken longer than expected, but it was done. He studied the stars again, wishing things would have worked out differently. They had not, and now his part in this adventure was done.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, wearily working himself out of his seat. He gathered up his sleeping bag and turned to face the communications console. “I haven’t g
iven up. I’ll never give up, and I might lick this bug yet. I just think our best chance is to wait for someone to rescue us. The Captain assured me we would not be forgotten. I hope he was right.
“I’ve stopped the ship, whatever that means out here. At least the speed lever is on zero, so whoever finds us will be able to join up without too much difficulty. The blue light on the transmitter is still on. I don’t know what Arlynn said in her message, but it’s still going out. I hope you hear it.
“I promised her my best This was it.”
About the Author
I grew up hoping to be an astronaut, but less than perfect vision put that goal out of reach. Instead, I joined the army after high school and flew some 600 combat missions in Vietnam as a Forward Air Controller. After discharge, I went to college, then stayed with the private side of commercial aviation.
My career as a pilot spanned 49 years, a time during which I managed to cover most of this wonderful globe that we call Planet Earth. I met people from many walks of life, and I have to say that I enjoyed nearly all of them when I took religion and politics out of conversations. Because of all the people I’ve met, treating aliens as people requires only a slight extension of imagination.
I began writing seriously in 1986. My English teachers would be horrified if they knew what I was doing. I was not a great student since I spent most of my time staring out the window at blue skies, clouds, and airplanes.
In light of the grammatical and spelling errors in these books – errors that you’ve found and not hesitated to bring to my attention – I’m sure many of you believe those teachers were right. I can only say thank you to them for successfully cramming what they could into my mind. I take complete responsibility for the rest.
Ship's Log Page 22
