by Cameron, TR
He spoke in a casual tone that was almost, but not completely, inappropriate to the moment. “Welcome back, XO. We have ourselves a bit of a situation here. If you could take the sensor station and figure out where the hell we are, and how the hell we got here, that would free up Lieutenant Martin to focus on keeping the Gagarin at bay.”
“Happy to oblige,” Kate replied with matching false casualness. The bridge crew, accustomed to their wordplay, relaxed a little.
She sat, restraints deploying to lock her into place. As her hands danced without thought across the panel, activating systems and loading her operational preferences, she listened to Cross issue commands. “Tactical, protect us from whatever stupid thing that Gagarin will do next, but don’t forget that we are surrounded by unknowns. Helm, maximum weapons range from the Gagarin. Anyone,” he trailed off, and offered a small laugh, “what the hell is going on out there?”
The tactical officer gave a situation report. “Location unknown, computers are still plotting the system. The Gagarin’s engines are off-line. Our engines are functional at 50% capacity, but our tunnel drive is off-line. Weapons on both ships are powered and ready to go. The Gagarin seems to have taken minimal damage to several compartments during transition, and he is leaking gases in several places. We also took damage, with sections Alpha-three through Alpha-six venting atmosphere.”
Cross directed a wry look at Kate before returning his gaze to the tactical officer. “It appears that the gods of tunnel space have something against our Marines, given that the only thing destroyed was their living quarters.”
Most sailors harbored a fundamental dislike for the ground pounders of the Marine division. Kate was not among them. The Marines, like her, did their jobs they were assigned in the best way they knew how.
“Lucky that we’re not carrying any this trip, sir.”
“Lucky indeed, Martin.”
Conversation paused as the Washington repositioned, the bridge crew keeping a close eye on the Gagarin. Kate, too, was captivated by the slowly receding image of the giant ship drifting through space. After a minute of silence, the communication officer’s voice broke the moment, “Incoming communication from the Gagarin, sir.”
“On screen,” Cross snapped. Kate saw the tension in his face, heard it lurking behind his words. Her attention split as reports finally flooded into her system. She sent a quick message to engineering, informing Jannik of the processing delay.
The commander of the Gagarin filled the right half of the main screen. He looked unruffled, considering the damage to his ship and the unexpected relocation to an unknown sector of the universe. “What have you done, Washington? What new trick is this?”
Several bridge officers found his outrage amusing, quietly laughing and shaking their heads at the question.
Cross maintained his composure while facing his opponent. “It was your devious play that created the vortex that brought us here. Neither I nor my crew had anything to do with that, we just got to come along for the ride. I imagine your friend who joined us at the end of that little episode is commenting upon your stupidity right now.”
The Gagarin’s commander gave a small nod as if Cross had confirmed something for him. “Stupidity, is it? Perhaps, Washington, perhaps. Perhaps too, it was instead a noble effort to defend Alliance territory from the continuing and constant encroachment of the Union.”
Kate tore herself away from the conversation and triggered several analyses of the images coming from the Gagarin. She linked them over to Cross’s display. He glanced down, then look up with a predatory grin as the man on the screen finished speaking with a cheerfully vulgar suggestion.
“We’ve just analyzed the emissions from your ship, Commander. Very interesting reading. You’re venting plasma gases vital to your cannons. That leaves you rather under-armed compared to my vessel. I suggest you stand down, acknowledge today’s defeat, and return to your own space. Forthwith.”
Kate saw him hit the small stud on his command chair that overrode the comm and cut off the transmissions. He turned to her and said, “Okay, Kate. That should hold them for a while. Tell me what we’ve gotten ourselves into.”
She had been waiting for the opportunity. “We’re in a strange place. It’s a significant distance beyond our explored territory. Given our transition time, we shouldn’t have traveled this far. It’s a very interesting discovery, because if we could figure out why, and harness that for our own exploration, ships—”
Cross cut her off, “Kate, do the science with Jannik later.”
Kate snapped back to the moment. “Right, sorry. It’s relevant in a military sense, though, because we want to make sure we don’t get our tunnel drive shot out from underneath us or we’ll be a very long time getting home.”
Cross interrupted her with an almost gleeful expression. “Are you telling me that the Gagarin is stuck here?”
Kate gave him an exasperated look. “Appears to be the case. And here is a very interesting place. To start with, we are on the outer fringe of an eight-planet system. The planets are orbiting a star of similar size and mass to Earth’s. They appear to be in stable elliptical orbits. Surrounding the entire orbital path is this…” With the tap of a few keys, Kate took over most of the main display, showing a diagram of the planets, the star they circled, and an oblong cylinder of asteroids that ringed the entire thing, curving to meet at each end, capping the shape.
Cross leaned forward as far as his restraints would allow. “That is the strangest shaped asteroid field I’ve ever seen. Do we know what’s causing it?”
Kate shook her head. “There are some entirely strange gravitics going on in this system. The readings are so different from ours that the computer can’t figure out what it’s seeing. It’s unlike anything in our exploration records. What’s most interesting about it is this…” Kate zoomed the display to a tighter view. The closeup showed that individual sections of the asteroid field were themselves in motion, some seeming to move predictably while others moved randomly. “Again, we’ve never seen an arrangement like this.”
“So, where are we in this mess,” asked Cross.
“Right here,” Kate replied, highlighting a section and zooming in. The two ships were near the middle of a cascade of rocks orbiting an obvious central point.
“What are they rotating around?”
Kate zoomed the screen again in response. “There appears to be an incredibly dense piece of rock in the middle. From our perspective, it is behind and above the Gagarin. I don’t think we want to get any nearer to it, if it is exerting enough force to keep these rocks moving the way they are.”
“That sounds like fantastic advice,” Cross replied. “Recommendations?”
Kate thought about it for a second, opened her mouth to reply, then paused, shutting it again. What she wanted to say was that they should inspect those eight planets before tunneling out of the system. The scientific portions of her brain were excited at the opportunity to learn more about what kind of star could create such a strange phenomenon. Unfortunately, the executive officer carried a larger burden of responsibility. “We need to get out of here right away. We should also prep a beacon before we attempt it, in case something goes wrong. Finally, we may want to tunnel back to where we were to provide a report about the Gagarin being stranded to the Alliance ship.
Cross nodded. “I agree. That’s what we’ll do.” He turned to the comm officer and said, “Send a message to the Gagarin informing them of our plan to depart and our promise to inform their fleet that they are in need of rescue.”
Kate sighed. Even when Cross was being nice, he had to twist the knife. It was a trait she disliked in him. In time with her exhalation, the lift door slid open.
Before she could turn her head to look, she heard the sharp voice cut across the bridge. “Bloody hell and damnation, Cross. What are you doing to my ship?”
Chapter Six
Cross flinched at his captain’s words. He hit the button to release
his restraints and vacated the center chair immediately. Given that they were in a battle situation, he dispensed with the usual officer-on-the-deck rigmarole, instead offering a quick summary to his commanding officer.
“We engaged an Alliance ship that misunderstood their right to encroach on one of our patrol sectors. We outmaneuvered them, then reinforcements showed up. The commander of the Gagarin launched a sneak attack and attempted to flee by triggering his tunnel drive on only one engine. The Gagarin and the DC were both pulled into a vortex, which we are still trying to understand, and we arrived here.” Cross gestured to the display screen, which Kate had returned to normal operation as the captain entered the bridge. “His tunnel drive and engines are damaged. He’s leaking atmosphere and plasma, and my XO and I agree that we should depart for home as expeditiously as possible.”
Captain James Okoye ran a hand over his bald head as he sat down in the vacated hair. His height and dark skin would make him stand out on the bridges of most UAL ships, and his clipped British accent with undertones of continental Africa made him stand out everywhere. He spoke again. “And so, I am up to the moment. I have the deck.”
Cross replied formally, “You have the deck, sir.” He moved to stand behind and to the right of the captain’s position, leaving the XO chair vacant for the tall officer that was just exiting the lift. Once there, Cross fumed in silence. It was fine for the captain to take command of the ship anytime he wanted. Cross had no problem with that. But he certainly could have been less condescending about it.
With one ear tuned to catch any requests from Okoye, Cross reviewed his actions since the moment the Gagarin had appeared on their plot. He saw no particular criticism that could be leveled at him for the way he handled the encounter. Every commander knew that showing weakness to the enemy was a fatal mistake, and he had upheld the honor of his service. The only thing he would change was to have gained more distance from the enemy after their initial exchange, so that his ship would have been less vulnerable to the surprise attack.
Voices pulled him back to the moment as Kate and the tactical officer announced almost simultaneously, “Energy signatures changing on the Gagarin.”
Cross looked over at the personal display built into the XO’s chair as Olivas adjusted it to zoom in on the enemy ship. The XO triggered an overlay of real time data that scrolled down the side of his screen. The enemy commander was up to something, but Cross couldn’t figure out what it was.
Okoye had apparently seen this before, and his clipped voice sounded almost conversational. “He’s rigged his engines to feed into the plasma cannon. That is why the engine numbers are small but steady. He’s charging a capacitor with them. When it reaches an appropriate level, he will have a single, very powerful shot from that weapon.” Okoye’s discipline before entering command was engineering, and he had spent considerable time as an assistant chief engineer on one of the UAL’s largest carriers.
Cross was sure that his assessment was correct. “We tried that once in simulation. The shot was even more effective than we expected and destroyed the enemy ship. It also exploded, killing the simulated gun crew right away and an additional fourth of the crew over the next day from plasma exposure.”
“Recommend more distance, Captain," Commander Felix Olivas said, and Okoye nodded.
“Helm, increase distance.”
Claire Martin’s calm report followed. “Launches. He has fired all of his tubes.”
The captain wore a look of regret as he looked over his shoulder and met Cross’s eyes. He felt the judgment in that gaze and was forced to consider that perhaps there was something he could have done better to defuse the situation. As he opened his mouth to suggest that they continue with their plan to evacuate the sector, his words were overridden by the captain’s stern voice.
“Sound brace for impact, Communication. Helm, set a course that brings our port broadside to bear. Campbell, fire energy weapons when we are in range. Launch all torpedoes when we reach 50,000.” The distance readout on the main monitor showed 60,000, providing barely enough time to plot a firing solution and get the tubes open.
“Captain. Don’t fire.” Kate’s alarmed voice rang out on the bridge. Without asking permission, she took over much of the main screen, showing the track of the enemy missiles. “Something is very wrong here, sir. The incoming torpedoes are not acting normally.” Kate overlaid the entire path of the missiles, and Cross saw what she meant. The strange gravitics of the area were warping the torpedoes’ tracks, pulling and pushing them in seemingly random directions. Only about a tenth of the launches would reach the Washington before their engines burned out.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Flynn. Weapons, hold all torpedoes until we are in broadside position.”
Cross saw Kate breathe out the stress of the moment and focus again on her instruments.
Martin spoke again, “Point defense cannons engaging.” The dense rain of projectiles detonated each of the incoming torpedoes at a safe distance.
Cross thought it as the captain said it, “Our turn.”
Where Cross’s style of fighting the ship was precise and direct, Captain Okoye’s style was notably different. As they approached optimal range, the captain sketched a spiraling path into his display, and linked it to the helm and tactical officers. The ship changed heading to follow the path, her weapons and shields compensating for the adjustment. Just as it became predictable, the heading would change again.
Cross felt that the captain’s strategies were always too complicated, but it was impossible to argue with success. Captain James Okoye had never lost an engagement with Alliance forces and had come out of several with no damage at all. It was one reason he’d been excited to receive his current posting. The reality had proven somewhat different, as Okoye was a spiky mentor, and in Cross’s opinion, overly critical. As was the XO, now that he thought about it.
In fact…
The time for musing ended as the ships engaged at broadside range.
Brilliant beams of energy lanced between the vessels seeking to overload the other ship’s shields. A salvo of torpedoes followed on the same task. Both ships absorbed the first exchange with no damage, and traded shots from aft armaments as they positioned for another pass.
“This is the side we damaged before, Captain,” Cross said, pointing to it on the battle display. The captain gave a nod of acknowledgment, but stayed focused on the schematic on the main display.
The clipped voice issued instructions. “Let’s see how bright he is. Weapons, as we come in for the broadside, launch torpedoes from our other side to loop around to his opposite side.” The captain drew on his display and shared it to the weapons station. “Instead of holding our broadside missiles for a traditional launch, send them ahead on this path.” He sent another diagram, this time charting missile strikes that would hit the top and bottom of the enemy ship. “Use our forward cannons to strike at the remaining side, and then we will dump everything we have into that side as we pass. Time the torpedoes to all strike simultaneously.”
Against an unwounded ship, this tactic would have little effect. An unharmed ship would divert all of its available power into the shields, weathering the storm and countering with its own barrage. However, the Gagarin was far from pristine. His lost engine and rerouted power would decrease the efficiency of the energy transfer into his defenses. The tactical officer on the other ship would have to play the shields like a finely tuned instrument—performing an unfamiliar melody—to deal with it. Cross approved and filed the idea away in his mental toolkit.
The ships reached optimal range. “Fire,” commanded Captain Okoye.
Cross felt the tremors of the launches where his feet touched the deck, and he imagined he heard the sound as they rocketed from their tubes. On the main display, the trails formed beautiful arcs as they traveled toward their destinations.
“Apparently, he’s smarter than his conversational ability suggests, Captain” said Cross. On the display
, the Gagarin had abandoned its broadside pass to climb upward, veering toward one set of incoming missiles. The position would allow his tactical officer to deal with the missile salvos separately.
“Not bad at all,” Okoye said. He sketched a new course for the helm officer, and it was received with a crisp, “Changing course now, sir,” from Lieutenant Smythe.
The Washington swung on to the new course, and side thrusters skewed her around the central point, reorienting the front of the ship even as momentum carried them in their original direction. The display updated with newly plotted trajectories for both ships, showing them intersecting near the gravitational anomaly at the center of the sector.
“Suggestions?” Okoye’s baritone carried to include the entire bridge crew.
Lieutenant Stewart Campbell responded first, “How about we try to overload him? We approach using that spiraling path again, and once her momentum is strong enough, cut the engines and skew the ship, firing off both broadsides in sequence, right down his throat.”
“I like it, good idea, Campbell. Felix, any observations on this plan?”
Commander Olivas looked thoughtful. “Aside from adding in cannon fire wherever appropriate, Captain, the only other suggestion I have is to deploy a couple noisemakers beforehand to screen the launch of the missiles.”
Okoye nodded again. “Good call. Weapons, Helm, make it happen. Engage in fifteen seconds from my mark.” The captain paused, tracking the two ships as they closed in on the display. “Mark.”
Cross considered relocating to an empty bridge station, but instead secured his hold on a nearby support in preparation for the impending action.
A small timer clicked down in the corner of the main display. Each of the members of the bridge crew were busy at their tasks, but Cross saw each one of them sneak a glance at the countdown, except Kate, who stayed head-down over her sensors. Cross was sure she had mirrored the clock into her own display. Maximum efficiency was the hallmark of Kate Flynn.
