by Tori Harris
There was another brief period of silence during which, Jacks assumed, the survivors were giving final consideration as to whether they had any choice at this point other than cooperation. “You have my word, Lieutenant. Let’s get this over with,” the Wek said, sighing resignedly.
Chapter 15
Exclusion Zone, Location Dagger
(3.3 light years from Earth)
Had an observer been in the unenviable position of witnessing the arrival of SCS Zhelov and Serapion at close range, the sight would almost certainly have inspired a sense of awe replaced shortly thereafter by fear. The starfield near their points of hyperspace interface seemed to blur and twist convulsively, then turn completely black in the instant before two spectacular flashes of gray light heralded the battleships’ arrival.
Hyperspace transitions in the immediate vicinity of other ships are inherently dangerous, but centuries of naval operations experience had allowed the Sajeth Collective to develop procedures designed to minimize risk and render such activities largely routine. One example of just such a procedure required the two Baldev-class battleships to arrive in what was considered a tight formation for warships of their size. Doing so allowed for a predictable interface footprint, followed by an equally predicable pathway for their deceleration burn.
“Tight” formation flying was something of a relative term, the definition of which tended to vary with the size and configuration of the ships involved. In this case, the two-ship formation had maintained a separation of just over ten kilometers during the final leg of their journey to the Resistance rally point. This was done primarily to avoid any potential for the fields generated by their massive hyperdrives to interfere with one another, but also to provide a little room for the ships to maneuver as necessary after transitioning back into normal space.
Although the speed and range of modern naval weaponry made the idea of “formation flying” seem like something of an anachronism, there was still value in the mutual support two or more ships of war could provide for each other. As powerful as each individual ship was, there was still safety in numbers, particularly when there was the potential to encounter hostile forces immediately upon arrival at their destination.
Now, as the two, thirteen-hundred-meter-long warships streaked downrange at nearly ten percent the speed of light, four forward-facing panels slid into recesses in their hulls, each one revealing the presence of two massive sublight engine nozzles. Much like the retrograde engines employed by the BD cruiser Keturah during her battle against the Theseus — but significantly larger due to the battleships’ size — all eight flared to life as they engaged at maximum power. When viewed from the side, a ghostly blue aura issued forth from the two battleships in their direction of flight, allowing the formation to decelerate at a surprising rate for ships of their size.
As the pair neared the end of the exclusion zone, the captains of both ships noted that the situation at their rally point was not as they had expected it to be. In response, both began an intense scan of the area utilizing their entire suite of both active and passive sensors. Even with the limitations imposed by the speed of light, the distances involved were relatively short, and it took only a few moments for the two captains to assess the situation and settle on an initial course of action.
On the side of each battleship facing the center of their formation, the forward-facing engines vectored their thrust to begin increasing the distance to the other ship while the engines on the opposite side ceased operation entirely. At the same moment, the stern of each ship was lit by a bluish-white glow as a total of twenty-four enormous sublight engines added their colossal thrust to the task of positioning the two ships for imminent combat operations.
From the opposite end of the exclusion zone near their original transition point, the two Baldev-class ships had the appearance of an eerie duplicate of the star Sirius, which just happened to be located just above their current plane of flight at the moment. Shortly thereafter, the false star created by the combination of the two ships’ huge drive sections separated into two distinct points of light, then rapidly diminished in brightness as the battleships completed their turns and settled on their new courses — both aligned perfectly to intercept the starship Theseus.
TFS Theseus, Location Dagger
(3.3 light years from Earth)
With Lieutenant Lau still away from the bridge, his replacement jumped involuntarily as a series of urgent-sounding warning tones issued from the Tactical 2 console, none of which she had ever encountered outside of the simulator.
“Contact!” she reported, excitedly but without hesitation.
“What do you have, Lieutenant?” Commander Reynolds asked immediately. Although the XO tried to sound as casual and relaxed as possible, the first thought that had entered her mind was the hope that they were detecting the arrival of several replacement fighters rather than the long-anticipated appearance of Zhelov and Serapion. Just as the eager young lieutenant from the standby crew was fully qualified to sit in for Lieutenant Lau at Tactical, Commander Reynolds was more than capable of commanding the destroyer in combat. But with Captain Prescott off the bridge and three separate EVA missions underway, she couldn’t help but feel a chill of dread run down the length of her spine at the thought of being faced with a completely unmanageable set of circumstances.
“I don’t think it’s one of ours, Commander,” the lieutenant replied gravely. “The AI is still working to classify it, but the point of hyperspace interface corresponds with the exclusion area outlined by Commander Takkar.”
Reynolds glanced to her right at the tactical plot, noting with some relief that there appeared to be only one new ship — currently displayed with the yellow icon reserved for unknown contacts. Realizing that, at this range, Theseus’ AI could be expected to provide additional details rather quickly, she paused momentarily to observe the new arrival. In the back of her mind, she still harbored a faint hope that the contact would turn out to be a friendly — perhaps even one of the Theseus-class destroyers that had taken part in the battle at Location Crossbow.
“Can we get a decent visual from here?” she asked, not directing the question to anyone in particular.
“We can try, ma’am,” Lieutenant Commander Schmidt replied from Tactical 1. “It’s heading away from us at the moment, so assuming it’s a ship, we should be able to see the light given off by its drive section.”
Reynolds’ gaze now shifted to the center of the bridge view screen, which shortly thereafter displayed a pulsating green oval surrounding an otherwise unremarkable section of the starfield to port. After a brief pause, the oval pulsed red three times before the entire view screen zoomed in on that section of the sky. It took several seconds for Theseus’ AI to focus its optical sensors on the distant, rapidly moving contact. With a growing sense of anxiety, Reynolds divided her attention between the tactical plot and the slowly sharpening image on the view screen.
“Captain Prescott to the Bridge … Flight Deck, bridge,” she announced in rapid succession. Although they had detected the new contact just ten seconds earlier, Reynolds was unwilling to wait any longer to begin taking definitive action.
“Bridge, go for Flight Deck,” came the immediate reply from the on-duty flight operations officer — currently standing just forward of the destroyer’s main aft airlock that led out to the stern flight apron.
“We’re working a contact up here that may be another hostile. What’s the status of our … stand by one.”
It was at that moment that Theseus’ AI had finally processed sufficient information to both classify and positively identify the contact. Reynolds heard several expressions of recognition from members of the bridge crew as the image on the view screen resolved into near perfect clarity. Although the two massive warships displayed were currently headed away from the Theseus, the configuration of their drive sections were now all too familiar. On the tactical plot, the single yellow icon divided into two distinct contacts now repres
ented by diamond shapes outlined in the angry red color indicating that both were hostile warships. Inside each icon, the traditional, two-letter code of “BB” indicated the enemy vessels’ platform type, while the accompanying text blocks provided an even more specific identification — SCS Zhelov and SCS Serapion.
“AI, resume General Quarters for combat operations, Condition 1,” Reynolds ordered. “Set status of all EVA activities to ‘Terminate Until Further Notice.’”
“General Quarters for combat operations, Condition 1 set,” the AI’s synthetic female voice responded in a businesslike tone. “EVA status change acknowledged. Please note that EVA activity is currently in progress.”
“Uh huh, tell me something I don’t know,” Reynolds muttered under her breath as the AI began announcing the status change over the ship’s intercom. “Flight Deck, are you still there?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the duty officer replied. “I believe you were about to ask about our EVA status.”
“Yes, I was. Who do we still have outside?”
“The last of the damaged fighters is aboard and being secured as we speak. We have all four of them pushed as far forward as we can get them now, so they are no longer interfering with flight ops. Commander Logan and his team came in with the last fighter, so they’re all back aboard as well. I just spoke with him briefly and he said to tell you that he would report in as quickly as he can get back to Engineering.”
“That’s all good news. And what about the Marines?”
“One of the Sherpas, that’s Marine Rescue Flight niner zero two, is on final approach and will be aboard in zero two minutes. They have eight of the fifteen Marines aboard plus three Wek survivors from the Keturah. The other Sherpa — with six other Marines plus Lieutenant Jacks — was not yet en route back to the Theseus at last check.”
“Yes, that’s still the case. I need you to get that first Sherpa onboard and secured as quickly as possible. We have two battleships just like the one we fought earlier headed our way and unless we get underway before they have a chance to open fire —”
“Understood, Commander. And what about Lieutenant Jacks and the other shuttle?”
“I’m afraid they’re on their own for the moment. His team is aboard a Resistance ship, so I suspect they’re a lot safer than we are right now. Reynolds out.”
Marine Section “Rescue 11,” Location Dagger
(Near SCS Keturah External Access Point Two)
“Rescue 11, bridge,” Commander Reynolds called over the tactical comlink.
“Bridge, go for Rescue 11,” Lieutenant Jacks replied, sounding uncharacteristically winded.
“You’re out of time, Lieutenant. What’s your status?”
“We’re nearly there, Commander. We have all four Wek survivors secured in triple EPs. Three of them should be fine, but one is in pretty bad shape with third degree burns. The medical AI on his pod says he’s stable for now, though. We ran into some trouble on egress. I think our pressurizing and depressurizing several large compartments caused some additional structural instability and we ended up needing to clear quite a bit of debris on the way out. We’ll have everyone aboard the shuttle in zero three minutes.”
“I’m sure you received an alert that the Zhelov and Serapion have arrived.”
“Yes, ma’am. Are you still planning to move Theseus in closer to pick us up?”
“I don’t think we have time,” Reynolds sighed, the stress and frustration of the current situation clearly evident in her voice. “We’re in the process of recovering your first shuttle as we speak. In the meantime, those two battleships are headed right at us and will be well within weapons range before you can get back aboard Theseus. I’m afraid our moving in closer might actually put you in more danger than just having you stay put. Stand by one, Lieutenant. Captain Prescott just stepped back onto the bridge.”
“Careful, there,” Jacks’ AI interjected after ensuring that they were no longer broadcasting over the comlink, “she sounds calm enough, but I’ll wager she’s as mad as a cut snake.”
Nah, she’s just in a tight spot, that’s all. She’s a pro, that one … I wouldn’t want to cross her, though, and that’s a fact.
For the next few minutes, Jacks continued to supervise final preparations for his team’s departure from the Keturah, assuming (correctly) that his captain and XO were in the middle of a discussion regarding precisely what, if anything, they could do to help him. The prospect of being left aboard the dying ship, while a bit unsettling, didn’t pose much of a problem for his section of Marines — at least not in the short term. The power supplies in their EVA suits would last pretty much indefinitely, and would continue to generate plenty of oxygen for far longer than they would need it. The limiting factor, as usual, was food and water. Having exerted themselves over the course of the past hour, he assumed that most of his troops would have already run through the two liters of water in their suits’ onboard drink bags, and a quick status check of his own supply showed it to be less than half full. It would be at least a day before lack of water posed what he would consider an “emergency” situation, however. If they reached that point, there were several metric tons of survival rations, water, and medical supplies aboard their Sherpa. Even in the unlikely event that they somehow lost access to the shuttle, he felt sure they would be able to locate additional supplies aboard the Keturah, if required. Finding a safe place to eventually remove their helmets in order to eat might prove a problem, but it was one he could afford to ignore for now.
Jacks also knew that, in a worst-case scenario, their EVA suits were capable of traversing significant distances in space — perhaps allowing them to set out for one of the other damaged ships, if necessary. The suits’ integral Cannae thrusters were certainly capable of providing a steady acceleration over an indefinite period of time, hopefully achieving the speeds required to cover the vast distances involved before their occupants died of dehydration. Very few things frightened First Lieutenant Jackson “Jacks” Lee, but the idea of such a desperate journey across open, interstellar space sent a forbidding chill coursing down the length of his spine.
The Wek survivors represented an even bigger problem. Having risked his own life as well as those of the six other Marines in his section in an attempt to rescue them, losing even one at this point would represent the worst imaginable type of mission failure — perhaps in some ways even worse than losing a member of his own unit.
Pushing these rather morbid, unproductive thoughts from his mind, Jacks straightened his back, drew in a deep breath, and surveyed the situation just inside the large airlock that serviced access point two. The four triple EPs as well as what little equipment they had brought onboard were arranged neatly on one side of the small cargo bay, and the members of his section were prepared to depart. All that was required at this point was an order from the bridge to either hunker down and shelter in place, or embark for the trip back to Theseus. Either way, seeing all of his people as well as the Wek survivors safely back to the ship was both his singular focus as well as a point of professional and personal pride. No other outcome was acceptable.
“Rescue 11, Theseus-Actual,” Captain Prescott’s voice sounded inside his helmet, interrupting his stream of consciousness.
“Theseus-Actual, Rescue 11. Go ahead, Captain,” Lieutenant Jacks replied, hoping to hear that the massive destroyer would soon be waiting right outside to evacuate his team.
“Jackson, I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but I’m going to have to ask you to sit tight for the time being. Those two battleships are coming on fast, and unless they change course, we don’t have time to bring you aboard before they’re likely to start shooting at us. Under the circumstances, I think I’d be putting you at more risk by pulling you out now than just having you wait it out there.”
“Understood sir. I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Jacks replied with more enthusiasm than he felt at the moment.
“With any luck, the two ships will receive their o
rders from Captain Yagani’s comm buoy shortly and be on their way before they have the opportunity to open fire. If possible, we don’t want them to know that we have people aboard the Keturah, so I’ve asked Flight Ops to tuck the Sherpa in tight against the Keturah’s hull on the opposite side from the approaching enemy ships. I don’t know if that will prevent them from detecting it, but it can’t hurt. In any event, the shuttle is still only about two hundred meters from your point of entry, so it won’t take long to get it back when you’re ready for it.”
“Will Theseus be departing the area, sir?” Jacks asked.
There was a brief pause on the comlink as Prescott considered the meaning behind the young lieutenant’s question and how best to answer.
“They seem to be headed our way at the moment, so my hope is to draw them away from the Keturah. Having said that, we’re in no condition to engage one of those ships at this point, let alone two. The good news is that we don’t believe either of them is equipped with the gravitic beam weapon the Baldev used against us, so, yes, once they get within weapons range, we will C-Jump clear. I know it’s a little uncomfortable being left out there, but rest assured we’ll be back for you shortly.”
“I’m not worried, sir. My guys never pass up a chance for a nap, so take your time.”
“Very good, Lieutenant,” he chuckled, appreciating the young officer’s effort to stay positive while facing a difficult situation. “Prescott out.”
TFS Theseus, Location Dagger
(3.3 light years from Earth)
“Bridge, Engineering,” Commander Logan’s voice sounded from the overhead speakers.
“Prescott here. Go ahead, Commander.”
