by Trevor Wyatt
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Leaning back on his chair, Jeryl ran his fingertips over all the assorted buttons on both arms of the chair. And to think that with a push of a button, he could decimate thousands of lives⸺all without breaking a sweat and hearing a single cry of agony. A shiver ran up his spine as he remembered the days of the war.
How many lives had perished because Jeryl had issued a command? How many had suffered because of him?
Stop it, he commanded his brain, choking the life out of those thoughts. No good will come of that.
He had spent enough sleepless nights thinking about the war to know that it’d do him no good. After all, he had done his best to put the galaxy on the right track. From brokering the peace between the Terran Union and the Sonali to making the Galactic Council a reality, Jeryl knew he had done everything he could to do some good.
Now it was up to others to decide on the fate of the galaxy.
As far as he was concerned, he was content to mind nothing but the fate of his ship and his crew. Maybe one day, perhaps not that far down the road, he’d have the urge to settle somewhere nice. Somewhere warm preferably, where he could trade off his uniform for a pair of khaki shorts and one of those tacky shirts sold at spaceports everywhere.
It’d be nice to have one or two kids running around and a place to call home. Sure, The Seeker was Jeryl and Ashley’s home, and had been for a long time, but it wasn’t exactly the place to raise a family—a functional one, at least.
Despite his devotion to the Terran Armada, Jeryl would never go to the lengths Admiral Pierce had gone—to raise a child only so that he could turn her into a perfect military machine. At least those were the rumors.
“Lieutenant, you have the bridge,” Jeryl said as he stood up, nodding at Docherty. “Await my return to jump into FTL.”
“Yes, sir,” Docherty replied, his tone so perfectly clipped he almost sounded like one of those officers part of the Armada recruiting campaign.
Jeryl was almost out of CNC. The doors had already slid onto their partitions to let him through—when Mary Taylor, the comms officer, called after him.
“Sir, wait!” She exclaimed, going up to her feet and glancing from her screen to Jeryl.
“Got anything?”
“Yes, sir…” Mary continued, now fully focused on whatever she was reading on her screen. “We’re picking up...something.”
“Something?” Jeryl asked, already turning on his heels and heading back into CNC. “Care to elaborate?”
“Yes, sir. We’re picking a frequency, but it’s tenuous.”
“We might be picking up some kind of magnetic interference from a nearby star,” Jeryl offered, but his comms officer just pursed her lips. She considered that option for one second, but then quickly and completely discarded it.
“No, it can’t be. There’s someone out there, and they’re trying to reach us.” She stopped for a moment, lost in her own thoughts, and then looked back at Jeryl. “Well, not exactly trying to reach us—whoever it is, they’re just trying to reach...anyone. But the signal we’re picking up is too tenuous. They must be far. Either that, or their comms apparel is too weak or outdated.”
“Alright, let’s look into it,” Jeryl said in a loud voice, assuming his position on the captain’s chair once more. “Let’s use the long-range scanner and see if we pick up anything.”
“On it, sir,” one of the young ensigns proclaimed and immediately got to work, pushing a myriad of buttons on his holographic keypad.
“Put it up on the viewscreen,” Jeryl commanded, and a couple seconds later, the viewscreen took over the forward part of CNC. Projected onto a blanket of darkness and stars, Jeryl could spot a faint blue dot on the corner of the screen, the farthest coordinates The Seeker’s scanners could pick.
“Whoever they are, they got lucky,” Mary announced. “Just a few hundred kilometers more, and I doubt we’d be able to pick up anything at all.”
“Lieutenant Docherty, stop what you were doing. Set a course for that ship’s coordinates. I want to look into it,” Jeryl said, drumming his fingers on the armchair. It was probably nothing, but he wanted—needed—to be sure. After all, The Seeker was patrolling the border between the Terran Union and The Human Confederation.
More often than not, it was a quiet place, but occasionally you’d find the odd smuggler trying to make his way from one space territory to the other without paying the custom taxes. And then there were the space pirates, of course, but they weren’t that much of a concern. Whenever anyone saw The Seeker, one of the most formidable killing machines during the Sonali War, they just stopped dead on their tracks and paid their respects to Captain Jeryl Montgomery.
The thing was, lately, this specific quadrant had been very quiet. Too quiet, in fact. From all the reports, the quadrant was part of a smuggling route between some of the Human Confederation’s farming colonies and their well-off counterparts on the Union.
But a few months ago, ships stopped crossing the border. The whole zone was like a silent graveyard, and maybe that was the reason Jeryl had decided on it as a good spot for a patrol run.
“ETA, Lieutenant?”
“Thirty minutes, sir,” Docherty said.
Jeryl kept his eyes on the viewscreen as The Seeker cut its way through empty space at sub light speed, the blinking blue dot up on the screen growing larger as the minutes ticked by.
“How’s that frequency? Still nothing?”
“It’s still too tenuous, sir,” Mary Taylor said, “I’m betting whoever’s out there, they’re using some old and weak equipment. But we’ll be able to have pick up a clearer signal in just a few minutes.”
“Good. Because it seems our friends out there are not alone,” Jeryl commented, watching as a dozen blinking dots appeared on the screen, right behind the initial signal they had picked up.
What was going on? Smugglers? Pirates?
No, it didn’t make any sense—none of those flew so many ships in such a tight formation. Only one thing was clear: someone was being chased.
“Sir, I got it!” Mary finally announced. “We’re within range, and we’re being hailed!”
“Put it up on the screen.”
“We only got audio, sir,” she said, but pushed the signal onto the viewscreen all the same. The screen went dark, but the sound of static permeated the whole of CNC.
“This is Captain Jeryl Montgomery of The Seeker. We’re doing border patrol on this sector, and we require you to announce yourselves. Please provide identification.”
“Please...someone...help...” a frail woman voice pleaded, the crying voice of a small child on the background.
In that moment, Jeryl’s blood turned cold.
Jeryl
“Was that a…baby in the background?”
“Yes, sir. I believe it was.”
“Find out who’s chasing them, now!” Jeryl ordered Mary, and then identified himself again. “Shuttle, this is Captain Jeryl Montgomery of the Terran Union Starship The Seeker. What’s your name?”
“My…my name is Lydia. Please, help us.” Her response was still crackling over the system. Jeryl looked at Mary and brought his hands up, in a quiet what the hell gesture.
She shook her head and shrugged. “She must be using an old system, sir.”
“Clear it up.” Jeryl turned his attention back to the main screen. “Lydia…Lydia, can you hear me?”
The transmission became clearer, with only a few minor cracks of static. “...es, I can hear you. Please…them off of m…”
Jeryl walked up behind Docherty. “Who’s chasing her? And what the hell is she flying?”
“She’s flying an old HB70 model shuttle. It’s not meant for long distance, or speed. I’m not completely sure who’s chasing her, sir. Scans show that they’re small, raider-sized ships like ours. But I don’t recognize the signature or design, sir. They’re shaped like a, uh, a boomerang, maybe?”
“Do we have visuals on them?�
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“On it, sir,” one of the ensigns replied, and the viewscreen shifted to show a small shuttle against a pitch-black canvas.
“Zoom in,” Jeryl ordered quickly.
Docherty pushed a button on his panel and the screen zoomed in. The HB70 was sort of a flying box. About thirteen feet long, eight feet wide, with two engines on the top corners, the shuttle was a dinosaur. The small raider-type ships chasing her looked just as Docherty said, like boomerangs, or…
“You have got to be shitting me. They look like twentieth-century stealth bombers.”
“But they’re faster and outfitted so much better. They could actually cause some damage to us, sir. Not enough to destroy us, but enough to hurt us.”
“Lydia, push that little box of yours as hard as you can. We’re going to try to get them off your back.”
“…ank you!”
Jeryl turned towards Mary. “Taylor, get me connected to those ships.”
“Sir.”
“Where the hell is my First Officer?” He asked no one in particular, pursing his lips as he looked around CNC. Lately, it seemed like Ashley was avoiding him. Maybe it was all in his head, but he couldn’t help thinking that it had something to do with the fact that she had lost the captaincy to him.
“I’ve opened a channel, sir.”
“Good, keep talking to Lydia, and ask her about the raiders.” As Mary nodded, Jeryl put himself in the center of the CNC. “This is Captain Jeryl Montgomery of the The Seeker. Identify yourselves.”
There was no answer. The silent hiss was loud. Shaking his head, Jeryl tried again. “This is Captain Jeryl Montgomery of the The Seeker. You are currently chasing a civilian HB70 shuttle. Identify yourselves.”
“No answer, sir. They’re actively ignoring us.”
“Arm the weapons, get the shields up, and prep the fighters. I’m gonna try this one more time. Maybe being a little more forceful will do something,” Jeryl said as he took a deep breath.
“Attention, unidentified craft in pursuit of the HB70 shuttle. This is Captain Jeryl Montgomery of the very big, very powerful The Seeker. You need to identify yourselves right now, or we will be forced to intervene. If you don’t know what that means, it means that we will stop you—at any cost. Identify yourselves.”
Still, no answer came. Even the ensign at the security station sighed. Hiding a grin, Jeryl shook his head.
“Okay. How long before we get to her?”
“Several minutes, Captain,” Mary answered.
“What about the ships behind her?”
“They’re holding off, for now. I think we’ve confused, or maybe even scared them,” Docherty responded.
“Do we have a visual on the shuttle pilot yet?”
“Yes, sir. Putting it on main screen now,” Mary answered.
Jeryl looked up at the screen and hid his shock. What he saw was a woman that looked older than she was. Her sunken cheeks, dark eyes, and unkempt hair aged her tremendously. The panic on her face didn’t help either. Behind her, Jeryl could see the barest of movement and assumed it was the baby.
“Lydia, how are you holding up?”
“Like shit, sir. Is there any way to get these things off of me?”
“Working on it, just keep pushing that shuttle and keep an eye on your systems.”
“Sir, I’ve figured out who, or rather, what they are,” Mary said.
Jeryl walked over to Mary’s station. “What do you got?”
“The raiders are old Tyreesian design…”
“Those are Tyreesians out there?”
“Not exactly…I said they were old Tyreesian design. About three generations ago, a similar design to what they were using just before the war, according to some of the records we’ve found since the war ended.” Mary punched a few holographic keys and brought up an image on her screen. Pointing her finger, she showed him what she was talking about. “The Tyreesians are known for selling off their old tech when they make advancements. Pirates, Tyreesian rebels, and other races have been known to buy their old ships.”
“So…who’s flying these?”
“The woman on the shuttle told me that those are Udenar. I don’t know much about them.”
“I do. They’re ugly bastards. Humanoid, legs and arms bent the wrong way, permanent hunchback…not the brightest light on the ship.”
“Sir?”
“As a race, they’re older than human beings, but not terribly smart. They managed to figure out space travel after we did, even though they’re almost twice our age,” Jeryl explained, trying to remember whatever pieces of information concerning the Udenar bastards still floated inside his head. “Separated into three different ‘tribes’, the Udenar are more followers than leaders. They follow whoever is strong enough to take over the tribe.”
Jeryl sighed as he continued. “Each tribe has their own skin color; gray, brownish green, and maroon. The gray ones are the ‘smart’ ones; the maroon ones are the grunts, but mean bastards; and the brown/green ones are the…they’re the…well, they’re the cannon fodder and punching bags for the other two. Two-thirds of the population are the dumb ones, the weaker ones, and they’re usually the first ones sent into battle.”
“So, they bought Tyreesian raiders and are chasing random shuttles?”
“Could be but…they aren’t even in this sector, normally. They attack trading routes between Drupadi and Tyreesian space. Makes no sense why they’re out here.” Looking back at the main screen, he could see another collective of raiders coming to join the first group, bringing the number to twenty-four. “Bastards. How much longer before we get to Lydia?”
“Three minutes before we’re in range.”
“And the Udenar?”
“Thirty seconds, they’re speeding up.”
“Goddammit! Where the hell is my First Officer?”
“She’s not answering our calls, sir.”
Son of a bitch! Where the hell is that woman?
Jeryl pushed the ship-wide broadcast button, “All hands, we are at red alert. I want the Hunter pilots to load up and prep, you’re launching in forty-five seconds.” Taking his hand off the button, he ordered shields up and an increase in speed.
“Lydia?”
“Captain, they’re getting closer! They’ve started targeting me!”
“We’re sending out our fighters and we’ll be there in a minute. You need to move that shuttle any way you can to keep them off you.”
“It’s barely holding together as it is,” Lydia shouted. She screamed as laser fire erupted around the shuttle. The baby’s cries echoed in the background.
“Lydia, you need to move!” Jeryl looked at his navigators, “Get us there and launch the Hunters, now!”
Docherty pushed the comm button, “All Hunters launch, I repeat, all Hunters launch!”
“Docherty, will any of our weapons reach them?”
“No, barely out of range sir.”
“Fire some shots off anyway. Might slow down the pursuit enough for the shuttle to put some distance between them.”
“Aye, sir.”
It’s been a while, Jeryl thought grimly. It’s time for The Seeker to bare its teeth again.
Jeryl
“Lydia, we’re going to fire a few shots in your direction to try to get them to back off a bit, so watch out,” Jeryl told Lydia as calmly as he could.
“…kay,” Lydia’s voice cracked. The emotion and stress of everything happening was obviously getting to her. If she makes it through this, she’s going to need some serious therapy to help her deal, Jeryl thought to himself.
On screen, he watched as The Seeker’s laser cannons fired at the Udenar fighters. The blasts came up short, but it did exactly what he hoped it would. The Udenar backed off, not realizing the range of the lasers.
“Lydia, push that shuttle as hard as you can, we’ve given you some space.” There was no response from Lydia, but the shuttle stopped weaving back and forth and began flying straight for The S
eeker.
“Sir, the Hunters are launching. They’ll engage with the Udenar in a matter of seconds,” Docherty announced.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Get engineering to give us everything they can. I don’t want to leave our Hunters out there alone.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Jeryl turned his attention to his other navigator. “Ferriero?”
Pedro Ferriero turned to look at Jeryl. He was in his early twenties, but he had been one of the most promising crew members of The Seeker. “Sir?”
“I want you to keep firing at the Udenar, even if we don’t hit them yet, keep them off balance.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ferriero began punching holographic buttons and his screen changed to show the Udenar raiders and some targeting reticules. He pushed some more buttons and the ship’s laser cannons began firing.
Funny how lasers have a limited range, Jeryl thought as he watched the screen. I still remember how I thought they’d go on until they hit something.
Lydia’s HB70 was centered on the screen, a myriad of boomerang-shaped raiders chasing her while dodging laser blasts that popped before them.
Then The Seeker’s Hunters came into view. Bullet-shaped fighters with four wings and three thrusters, each wing armed with a laser cannon and two missiles, the Hunters were the Union’s third generation personal fighter. Ridiculously quick, well-armored, and fitted for two, the Hunter was the latest weapon the Union was using since the formation of the Galactic Council. As short-range fighters, they sacrificed fuel capacity for speed, making them annoying and devastating pests to any enemy vessel.
“Sir!” Ferriero suddenly blurted out.
“What is it?”
“There’s another group of raiders coming, six more just appeared on screen.”
“Shit. Thirty to twelve. Docherty, get us over there!” Jeryl sat in his chair and brought up his own holo-screen. Pushing a few buttons, he had the information he was looking for: the Hunters’ status, The Seeker’s ordinance count and shield level, and Lydia’s shuttle.
