Right Ascension

by David Derrico

  “But sir,” Nathan interjected, “are you aware that we are well within the blast radius of—”

  The Admiral’s determined look made it clear he was indeed aware.

  Slowly, deliberately, Daniel turned back to the light-beings on the viewscreen. Though he was not sure they would understand him, he began his belated reply.

  “What gives you the right to judge us?” he asked, his words driven by a penetrating anger. “What gives you the right to condemn us to death? What gives you the right to act as judge, jury, and executioner?”

  Apparently the light-beings could understand the Admiral’s words, as several of them flickered with increased brightness for several moments. It seemed to the Admiral as if they were communicating amongst themselves.

  “We are the guardians of justice in the Universe,” the voice replied, in the same manner as before. “We are those who judge and rectify transgressions against that which is right.”

  Daniel rose from his chair and walked purposefully toward the screen. “Then tell me something,” he said, his teeth clenched in anger, “who is it that judges you?”

  “We are those who judge and rectify transgressions,” the voice repeated. “And we have found you guilty of mass-murder, dishonesty, vigilantism …” The voice gained a disconcerting strength. “… and genocide.”

  The last words echoed in Daniel’s head, reverberating powerfully against the walls of his skull.

  “Our day of judgement for that massacre has already come,” Daniel replied, his own voice as powerful as the alien’s. “But today, it is I who have come to bring judgement upon you.”

  The alien form brightened noticeably, flickering with intense bursts of light. Daniel could not fight the unfounded suspicion that the light-being was laughing.

  “You have come to judge us?” the voice repeated. “That is inconceivable.”

  “Then perhaps you can conceive this,” Daniel replied, his voice as icy and unyielding as it had ever been. “I find you guilty of mass-murder. I find you guilty of vigilantism.” His voice dropped several octaves. “I find you guilty of killing my son.”

  “You have no right to judge. You can not—” the alien voice protested.

  “I can and I will,” declared the Admiral, walking back and taking his seat. “And I hereby sentence you … to death.”

  Several of the light-beings flickered spasmodically, clearly perturbed by Daniel’s words. The Admiral, however, did not wait for their reply.

  “Fire,” he said, turning to Dex. “This case is dismissed.”

  CHAPTER 24

  The sonorous hum of electricity immediately permeated the Apocalypse’s bridge, the hum growing more and more intense until the entire ship, now glowing from the energy, literally quivered with power. As the energy levels reached a crescendo, the nose of the ship began an elegant transformation. The four sides of the nose split open and spread apart, like the petals of some effulgent metallic flower, revealing the hollow barrel of a great cannon. Sparks danced along the edges of the cannon as waves of electricity began to course through its hollow barrel. The ubiquitous hum, now almost unbearably loud, suddenly abated, leaving nothing but a very short, but very pervasive silence.

  And then it fired.

  The effect of the Omega Cannon, though hard to put into words, was truly magnificent. What appeared to be a bubble-shaped distortion emerged from the weapon, moving at high speed toward the Lucani Ibron ship. The anomaly, not itself visible, could only be seen due to its distorting effects on the stars behind it. As it traveled, however, it left in its wake a faint glimmering trail, almost as if it had ripped a crease in space itself.

  Within a few seconds, the swift bubble had reached the Lucani Ibron ship, impacting it and immediately spreading around the entire surface of the vessel. The ship’s hull, already spectacular to look at, suddenly appeared even more bizarre, as sparks and peals of energy danced along its circumference, distorting the ship’s very shape into an amorphous, sparkling gray blob.

  Tearing his eyes from the death throes of the Lucani Ibron ship, Daniel looked slowly around the bridge, finally locking eyes with Anastasia for the last time. As he gazed at her, however, her face was replaced by that of his wife, safe back on Earth now that the Lucani Ibron were about to be destroyed.

  Daniel turned back to the viewscreen to see that from what appeared to be within the alien ship, a great ball of pure white energy had begun to expand rapidly in all directions. As the surging explosion reached the Apocalypse, however, it slowed its frenzied expansion, inexplicably halting for a moment just before time seemed to reverse itself as the ball of light receded back into the alien vessel. There was a blinding white flash, and the Admiral reflexively covered his eyes, not sure if he would ever open them again.

  It took several moments for Daniel to realize that he was still alive. Once he had, he shook his head to clear it, took a deep breath, and opened his eyes.

  In front of him, the viewscreen, still locked on its previous position, showed the spherical gray form of the Lucani Ibron ship, hovering quiescently, completely unmolested by the awesome blast of the most powerful weapon known to man.

  • • •

  The mood of Daniel’s crew somehow turned even more deathly somber. It was as if the flash of light had carried with it a dose of stunned disbelief, hopelessness, and despair.

  Daniel, however, had a different reaction. The sight of the alien ship, undamaged, served only to strengthen his resolve. While the rest of his crew slumped lifelessly in their seats, Daniel unbuckled his harness and rose to his feet, his face the shape of determination personified. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the Lucani Ibron ship, and, inexplicably, a smile found its way to his lips.

  “Alea jacta est,” he said aloud, rhetorically speaking to the alien ship. “The die is cast. Come and get me.”

  With that, Daniel punched a key on his console and rocketed the ship into hyperspace, shooting it away from the Lucani Ibron.

  As if the aliens had heard him, their ship stretched and shot forward, rocketing into hyperspace after them. And, though they would overtake them soon, that was precisely what Daniel had wanted them to do.

  “Zach,” ordered the Admiral. “Change course. Heading 13, mark three. All possible speed.”

  “But sir,” gulped Nathan, performing the calculations in his head, “that course will take us dangerously close to the Devil’s Graveyard, will it not?”

  “No, Nathan,” replied the Admiral, “it won’t take us close.” The Fedoran breathed a sigh of relief. “It will take us directly into the Devil’s Graveyard.”

  Nathan, this time, was right to be concerned. After all, the Devil’s Graveyard was aptly named. It was a stretch of space that, through some mysterious phenomenon, contained a massive concentration of black holes. Very few ships that had entered the Devil’s Graveyard had ever emerged, as there were no maps or accurate charts of the area’s chaotic, wildly-fluctuating gravity wells, wells that had caught more than one unsuspecting ship in their deadly web. Once the first few surveying ships had been lost trying to map the area, ConFedCom had simply given up and declared the entire area off-limits.

  Needless to say, the area had never been successfully navigated by a ship moving at faster-than-light speed. In fact, most were fairly sure it was scientifically impossible. To Daniel, of course, the impossible was merely that which had yet to be done.

  “What is our ETA, Nathan?” asked the Admiral.

  Nathan’s voice sounded even more somber and gloomy than usual. “Ninety seconds, sir.” Daniel could tell that the Fedoran had all but resigned himself to the fact that he was going to die.

  “Keep your head up, Nathan. We’re not going to die.” The Admiral retook his seat and added, “Not today.”

  Nathan turned back to the Admiral and nodded solemnly, straightening himself in his chair. It was as if the skittish Fedoran had somehow tapped into the Admiral’s own resolve.

  Anastasia leaned over in
her chair. “Daniel,” she whispered, “do I even want to know?”

  Daniel shook his head. “Probably not,” he admitted. “Probably not.”

  • • •

  The Devil’s Graveyard was dangerously close now, and the Apocalypse was already past the point where most prudent captains would have turned away or at least slowed to sublight speed. Most prudent captains, however, did not have a Lucani Ibron ship chasing after them.

  Daniel punched the intercom. “Darren, what is the status of the Quantum Refractor? Was it damaged by the attack?”

  “Well, sir,” came his reply, “the positron inducers have been damaged somehow. I really can’t tell if we can still use it or not.” There was a slight pause. “You know, I’ve been around a lot of years, Admiral, but I have to admit I still haven’t got the faintest clue how this thing really works.”

  “The ship is closing on us,” Dex interjected. “Sixty seconds to intercept.”

  “That should be plenty of time,” replied the Admiral, studying his display.

  “Plenty of time for what?” asked Dex. “For us to be destroyed by the Devil’s Graveyard?”

  “Well,” the Admiral admitted, “that is a distinct possibility.”

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Dan?” asked Anastasia. “I mean, tell me you have a plan.”

  “Oh, I have a plan, and it’s a darned good one, too,” replied the Admiral. After a short pause, he added, under his breath, “If it works.”

  Anastasia covered her eyes and slowly shook her head.

  Daniel keyed the intercom once again. “Darren, prepare to activate the Quantum Refractor, but first I want you to reverse the polarity.”

  “S–sir?” Darren stammered, clearly flustered by the request. “You want me to do what?”

  “To reverse the polarity of the Quantum Refractor’s output modulator. You can do that, can’t you?”

  “Well, sure, sir,” he replied, “I can reverse the polarity of a 12-ton nucleomagnetic drive coil if you wanted me to. The question is: why in the Seventeen Systems would you want me to?”

  “I have a hunch,” Daniel replied.

  Zach spun around in his seat. “This is your plan? A hunch?”

  “The Quantum Refractor vibrates the molecules of the ship in a way that allows them to pass through other matter,” the Admiral explained. “I think that, by modifying the way the molecules vibrate, it may allow the ship to pass through the gravitational fields projected by other matter.”

  “An interesting theory,” commented Darren.

  “Anyone have any other suggestions?” asked the Admiral. “If so, now is the time.”

  “I say we go for it,” said Nathan, far more enthused than the Admiral could ever remember him. The Fedoran looked around for a moment, and in response to the shocked looks he was receiving, he added, “It is not a bad idea, you know. I have calculated a 43 percent probability that the Admiral’s plan will work as he intends.”

  “But that’s less than half!” retorted Zach, clearly unconvinced. “How is that logical?”

  Nathan shrugged. “Sometimes, one needs to take chances. Logic is not always the answer.” He flashed a look at the Admiral. “Besides, they will never expect it, and I doubt even their advanced instruments can successfully navigate them through the Graveyard.”

  The Admiral smiled. “Okay then. Everyone buckle up. Darren, prepare to activate on my mark.”

  “You know,” said Anastasia, half-seriously, “I don’t think the restraining harnesses will protect us from a black hole.”

  Daniel flashed her a grin and took her hand in his. “Now, Mr. Alexander. Here goes nothing.”

  • • •

  The Admiral sincerely hoped that the sensation he felt as the Quantum Refractor engaged—in reverse—he would never be forced to endure again. As soon as the device activated, Daniel immediately lost his senses of sight and hearing, leaving him to concentrate on nothing but his overwhelming feelings of nausea, anguish, and unbridled pain.

  Though mere words fail to adequately describe the process, Daniel felt as if his body were being literally sucked inside out. Waves of nausea surged through the Admiral as he went through permutations the human body was obviously never intended to endure. Though he doubted the actual process took more than a few seconds, the time passed interminably, and Daniel was not completely sure that time had not somehow slowed for the sole purpose of prolonging his incredible agony.

  There were several distinct phases of the experience. Following the initial nauseous agony, there came a powerful force that seemed as if it were trying to rip Daniel’s body apart, atom by atom. At this point, the Admiral was glad he had lost the ability to see, as the pain he felt seemed to indicate that his body was being stretched several times longer than its usual length. In retrospect, Daniel thought this might have been the effect of one of the many black holes.

  After that feeling had passed, the initial queasiness returned, though now it was stable and less severe. In addition, Daniel could feel a new vibration, one that threatened to literally shake his body apart.

  It took all of Daniel’s concentration to focus on his body, fighting off the devastating effects he was experiencing. He struggled to concentrate only on his left hand, squeezing it against the armrest of his chair. Though his movements felt like some sort of dream, he slid his finger along the armrest console, eventually finding what appeared to be the correct button. With the last of his strength, he pushed it.

  And then, everything went black.

  CHAPTER 25

  When the Admiral regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was pain, a pain that coursed and tingled throughout his body and made his hair stand on end. What he next noticed, as he blinked rapidly to restore his vision, was that Dex was standing over him, gently shaking him awake. A few moments later, his hearing returned as well.

  “Admiral,” Dex was saying, “are you all right?”

  Daniel suppressed an urge to vomit. “I … I don’t think so,” he replied.

  With some effort, the Admiral straightened himself in his seat, looking around the bridge as he did so. The effort proved to be a mistake, as the bridge—which had already appeared to be spinning—seemed to increase its revolutionary speed in an effort to further disorient him. Through his hazy field of vision he could see, however, that Zach and Anastasia were still unconscious, and that Nathan was just coming to.

  Daniel took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “What happened?”

  Dex staggered back to his seat and slumped into it, apparently almost as drained as the Admiral himself. “The Quantum Refractor. Your idea, remember?”

  The Admiral concentrated, finally clearing his head, though his pain and nausea had not abated. “Did it work?” he asked, but even as he did, he was calling up the ship’s recorders on the main viewscreen.

  Dex, meanwhile, scanned his own console. “I have no ships in range,” he reported.

  The viewscreen begrudgingly flickered to life, though it showed only static. No amount of adjustment would coerce it into showing anything else—the recorders simply had not worked after the Refractor had engaged.

  “Sir,” said Dex, “I have something from the tactical recorders.”

  The viewscreen now resolved to show the view that was normally seen on Dex’s tactical display. A large red dot closed on a smaller green dot, as both traveled toward an immense, shaded region. The Admiral recognized the display screen as portraying the events of just before the Refractor had engaged.

  Daniel leaned forward, peripherally noticing that Zach and Anastasia were slowly regaining consciousness. The green dot on the display suddenly disappeared, just before it reached the edge of the shaded area that represented the complex gravity wells of the Devil’s Graveyard. Zooming in on the display, the Admiral watched the Lucani Ibron ship continue along its course. Daniel stared closely at the viewscreen, pushing aside his disorientation, and watched as the red dot flickered out just after i
t crossed the threshold of the intense gravity field.

  A few moments later, the green dot that was the Apocalypse reemerged on the other side of the shaded area, its Quantum Refractor now disengaged. Dex and the Admiral stared at the display in silence for several tense moments, but the Lucani Ibron ship did not reappear. It seemed that it had, instead, become the latest victim of the notorious Devil’s Graveyard.

  • • •

  Of all his crew members, Zach had taken the shock of the Quantum Refractor worst, but he, like the rest of the crew, though far from comfortable, was over what they all hoped to be the worst effects of the experience. Nathan, for one, had commented repeatedly that he thought the incident had “taken years off of his life.” Considering the way he felt, Daniel could hardly argue with him.

  The Apocalypse now traveled back to Earth, making sure to circumvent the Devil’s Graveyard on the return trip. Though everyone on board surely wanted to do nothing more that try to sleep off their conditions, they all remained awake, their monumental victory over the Lucani Ibron enough to overcome their physical discomfort.

  “I’ve got to hand it to you,” began Dex jovially, “that was some stunt you pulled back there. Personally, I thought you were crazy, but you hadn’t let me down yet, old man, and I, for one, like to bet on a horse until it loses.”

  A few retorts to Dex’s “old man” comment formed in Daniel’s head, but he was too exhausted and exhilarated to even reply. It was an odd sensation: the accumulated exhaustion of the past few weeks had suddenly slammed into him all at once, yet his elation at his monumental victory sustained him, the adrenaline alone keeping him from collapsing and passing out.

  The doors to the bridge opened, and Alexis was the first to come bounding through, almost knocking the Admiral over as she rushed past Darren and Ryan to embrace him. “I told you you would do it,” she said, squeezing him tightly. “You don’t know how to fail.”

  Daniel smiled. “I didn’t do it alone,” he replied, looking around the bridge. “Each of you deserves just as much credit as me. I could never so much as hope to serve with a braver, more loyal crew. This victory belongs to all of us. You did it—you saved the world.”