"Midshipman Ritter. Scan the sector for the ship. I want to know where the hell they went."
"Working on it, Commander, but it will take time to readjust the sensors," she said, voice wavering. "Even still, by the time I find the ship, they could've jumped again."
Wilson stepped up and strode towards the XO's station. "We need to send a transmission to fleet. Let them know what happened, so nobody else makes the same mistake."
Bremerton took in a deep breath, then nodded. "Make it so. In the meantime, set a course back towards New Earth. We need to bring everything we have back to fleet command."
"Sir, if I may?" Richards pointed at his datapad. Bremerton handed him the device and prepared to head towards the captain's chair. Before he could sit down, Richards handed the pad back.
"We don't have time for more research," Bremerton said, refusing it. "Now is the time for action."
"Then you'll want to see this." He offered the pad again, which Bremerton reluctantly took.
"What am I looking at this time?" he asked, before shooting him another angry glance. "And quickly."
"The current location of the scavenger."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gibraltar Sector
Shuttle Bay, Scavenger
Blaster fire erupted from the end of the hallway. Wellard dove behind a wooden crate for cover. Laser fire seared through the wood as if it weren't there, narrowly missing him but nailing a marine who had joined him. The blast ripped through the man's arm, burning through his flesh and melting his uniform shirt from the burn.
Wellard ripped part of his shirt free and held it to the wound which hissed the moment pressure was applied. There wasn't much blood thanks to the lasers instant cauterization, but the man was in pain.
"Hold it together, son. Help is coming." The words came naturally if they weren't entirely true. Help may have been trying to come, but until the firefight settled down, they were on their own.
Blaster fire streaked past them both ways as each side tried to pin down the other, neither side able to get a clean shot. With few exceptions, the rest of the marines were well behind cover. Most hid behind walls and doors while others, like him, were behind supply crates that had been left in the halls.
"Captain, are you OK? Saw you take heavy fire before disappearing behind a crate," Walker said over the comm, his voice haggard.
"I'm fine for now, but not sure for how much longer. We're taking heavy fire. They've already put a few dozen holes in the box. It's just a matter of time until we're hit."
"We? You're not alone?"
"I'm with one of your men. He took a shot through the arm, but is otherwise in good spirits." The man was struggling to keep it together, but his wound was as patched as it was going to be on the fly. That was the benefit to laser based weaponry. It cut clean. Often cleaner than a doctor could do on the operating table. The intense heat also closed the wound, minimizing the bleeding though it also made it difficult to patch without extensive surgery later on.
"Hold tight. A few of my men are moving to relieve some pressure from your position as we speak."
Wellard tied the bandage around the man's arm and pulled him up against the crate. "Can you move?"
The marine bit his lower lip and nodded. Then, without Wellard's help, he reached over and picked his discarded blaster rifle from off the floor. After checking its charge, he pressed a button on the side of the weapon energizing it.
"Sergeant's trying to get us out of this mess?" he asked, leaning towards the edge of the crate. Wellard was amazed the man had pulled it together this soon after being hit. If he'd been shot, he was sure he'd still be on the ground writhing in pain. As it was, he was struggling to keep his own wits together because of the smell.
"He's going to try. We need to be ready for when it happens." Wellard pulled out his own portable blaster and turned it on. He wanted to be ready to fight if the need came to it. It may have been a few years since he'd last held a blaster, but he wasn't going to let that get in his way. They always said it was like riding a grav bike. It was time to put that saying to the test.
Wellard heard static in his ear followed by Walker's voice. "Team is in position two doors ahead of you. They are preparing to move into the hall now. When they do, you are to take up their old position while they push forward."
"Which door, right or left?"
"Right. Jenkins is signaling you now. Do you see it?"
Wellard noticed a light glinting from up ahead, likely from a magnet or a piece of smooth steel. "Got it."
"When they move, you move. No hesitations."
"Got it, Walker. We're ready when they are."
The line went quiet for a moment, so he leaned in and filled the kid in on the plan. Grunting in pain, the marine hefted the rifle to the ready position as he knelt next to the edge, ready to pounce. Wellard wasn't as prepared as the marine. Yeah, he was ready to be out of the hallway, but not if it meant putting himself out in the open since blaster fire rarely stopped after hitting one target.
Running behind the marines would also leave them blind and unable to react to threats from the front. It's just two damned doors, Vincent. Pull your shit together. He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath through his nose. He held it a long moment before letting it out and repeating the process.
"Move!" the marine yelled, breaking Wellard out of his trance.
Lifting his blaster, he aimed it at a spot to the right of the marines and fired. The shots veered off to the side, slamming into the wall a few feet in front of the two marines.
After his initial salvo, blaster fire erupted anew as both sides turned the hallway into a veritable no man's land. The two marines running in front took the brunt of the assault but were still moving forward. Wellard assumed the pair were wearing some form of anti-blaster armor, but he couldn't tell from his angle.
Wellard leaped over the crate while the marine he was with moved around the side. Both men aimed their weapons at the end of the hall and fired as they ran, each making sure their shots wouldn't hit their saviors.
The marine reached the room first. He ducked inside leaving enough room for Wellard to pass while allowing him to keep his rifle to bear down the hall.
Before Wellard could join the marine, one of the men up ahead dropped to the ground from a torrent of fire from the end of the corridor. Seeing his friend drop, the second man ducked off into a room. Wellard's instincts screamed at him to help the fallen marine, but he knew there was nothing he could do. He needed to survive, and to do that he needed to get the hell out of the hall.
The marine waved his arm, signaling for Wellard to join him. Wellard took off at a full sprint towards the door. His chest burned from the short, deadly sprint, but he was going to make it. He would survive.
A stabbing pain shot through his leg. It was followed by the most intense burn he'd ever felt. The force of the blast knocked the leg out from underneath him, sending him clattering to the floor in a heap just outside the door. The last thing Wellard remembered seeing before his vision went dark was the marine reaching out for him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Gibraltar Sector
Bridge, NECS Endeavor
"Where do you think they're headed?" Ritter said, staring at the datapad as the ship made another jump.
"Hard to tell," Richards said. "Likely just jumped to get away. We did do a number to its weapons and thrusters, so that is likely its only way to get away."
Bremerton slammed his fist against the command console. Had he known the ship was capable of another one of those jumps he wouldn't have let the captain get onboard, not that he had much say in the matter. The last thing they needed was to get involved in a large-scale game of cat and mouse in which the mouse was capable of disappearing and suddenly reappearing hundreds of thousands of kilometers away. Even if they could catch up to the ship, it would likely just hop away starting the chase anew.
"Saying they aren't trying to get away, what would b
e the logical destination of the ship?" Bremerton asked.
"Without him taking another jump, it's hard to say. As of now, it hopped toward New Earth."
New Earth. What were the odds the ship was trying to get to the same destination they were? Pretty much zero, he believed, but it was far too coincidental for his liking.
"I know you can't answer definitively, but what is your gut feeling on this?" Bremerton asked Richards.
The older man turned his head up towards the ceiling and closed his eyes. He held his position for a moment, lost in thought. After a minute, Bremerton grunted, bringing him out of his daze.
"New Earth is as good of a guess as any. Navigation and planets is her job, and if she believes the ship jumped towards New Earth, I'm inclined to agree."
"Very well. Midshipman Ritter, plot a course for New Earth. Ensure our path gets us there as fast as possible, we need to beat them to the punch."
"But sir, the most direct route will skirt us along the edge of Russian space. I suggest we…"
"Then take us through Russian space. I don't know why that ship is heading towards New Earth, or how it knows it exists, but we need to stop it long before it reaches there, otherwise the Russians will have their hands just as full as us."
Midshipman Ritter tapped on her datapad. Once done she sent the results of her calculations over to Bremerton's console. The commander glanced at her report and frowned.
Three days, seventeen hours and forty-seven minutes. Surely there had to be a faster route than that.
"You're sure this is the best we can do?"
"I'm afraid so, Commander. Thruster seven is offline for repairs while three and eight are operating at just under half capacity. Unless Commander Vaughn can get them back online soon, our arrival time will be close to that."
"Fine, set the course." Bremerton leaned back in his seat and watched as the stars slowly shifted. Growing up he loved hearing stories about the stars, about men who piloted ships so fast it made them blur as they whizzed by. He'd joined the NEC partially because of those stories, and partially because he felt the pull towards the stars. But now the reality left him wanting.
"Richards, using the data we have, how long until the scavenger reaches the planet?"
Richards fumbled on his datapad, entering equations and formulations that left Bremerton confused. Suddenly he paused and held a finger in the air for a moment before returning to the pad. After another minute the engineer stopped and handed the pad to Bremerton.
"By my rudimentary calculations, I believe the ship will arrive at New Earth in approximately two days, six hours and thirteen minutes."
"Shit." He pressed a button opening a channel to engineering. "Bridge to Vaughn."
"Vaughn. What do you need Commander? We're a little busy repairing your thrusters."
"Just calling to ask about your progress. Seems we have a race ahead of us and can use every edge we have. Or, at the very least, everything working at its prime."
"Thruster seven will be back online in about four hours, saying everything goes as plan."
"And nothing ever goes to plan," Richards said.
"As for three and eight, that depends on the severity of their damage. We haven't been able to get close enough to see for ourselves. Damage control teams are still working to clear the area of debris. They just restored life support and atmospheric containment twenty minutes ago."
"And how long will that take?"
"A few hours. Should be done when they finish with seven."
"Very well. Keep me apprised if anything changes."
"Aye, Commander. Will do."
"And Vaughn, let me know how long three and eight will be once you get there. I need to know if we need to make any changes."
"Aye. Vaughn, out."
Bremerton cursed under his breath. His first official shot at sitting in the command seat wasn't going as planned. Not only had he lost the captain, but he was also in danger of losing a race towards New Earth, as well as his sanity.
"Richards, you said something about the anomaly's power readings matching that of the lower portion of the scavenger. Is that correct?"
"Yes, Commander. Why?"
"Because I believe the two may be linked far more than we know. Call it a hunch, but I think the anomalies give the host ship the ability to perform those short range jumps. Perhaps with a little work…"
"I could find a way to wire it to the ship and get the capacity for ourselves." Richards grinned. "I like the way you think, Commander. I'll head back below and get to work." He took a few steps before stopping. "And you'll be the first to know if anything changes."
It was Bremerton's turn to smile. "Good man."
Chapter Thirty
Gibraltar Sector
Lower Decks, NECS Endeavor
Running through the hall, Richards rocked into Bobcat as he rounded the corner, sending them both sprawling to the floor. Dazed, Bobcat sat up and rubbed a lump forming on top of her head where it slammed into the wall.
"Easy Richards. What's the hurry?"
Richards blushed as he got to his feet, then helped Tegan up to hers. "Commander Bremerton wants me to get back to work on the anomaly. He believes the technology inside may power whatever allowed the scavenger to jump away."
"Holy shit! The scavenger jumped away?" Tegan gasped and held her hand over her mouth. News from the bridge was scarce at the best of times. During combat, it was even more so. Hearing something that important, nearly shocked her.
"Yeah," he said, reluctantly checking the halls for other personnel. It was clear, so he continued though this time much more quietly than the last. "Hard to say for sure, but it looks like it's heading towards New Earth."
"You'd think that would be the last place it would want to go."
"I agree, which is why I need to get a move on." Richards shuffled past and hustled down the hall to the flight deck. Halfway down the corridor, he heard Tegan's footfalls following close behind. He thought about having her turn back, but truth be told he knew he'd need another set of hands when he was down there. While she wasn't part of the command staff, her rank was high enough to risk getting her involved.
They arrived at the flight deck to find it a flurry of activity. A dozen maintenance crews worked double time to repair the damaged fighters while twenty or more pilots watched to make sure their desired repairs were made first. Tegan remembered a time when she acted the same way like her fighter was more important than the others on the ship. The years taught her it was better to back off. Tell the technicians what you needed to be done, sure. But once they had it down, get the hell out of their way. Not only did they get your work done faster, but it was also often done better than it would've been if you were watching over their shoulder.
They shuffled towards the makeshift workshop in the corner of the deck, trying to avoid drawing any unnecessary attention. They made it to the steel double doors without so much as drawing a stare, but the creaking door changed that.
Angry and frustrated pilots turned her way, each begging her to do something about their birds. Normally, she'd at least listen to a few of them, if only to make them feel better, before explaining that the technicians were only human. Sometimes they just needed to hear their birds were in good hands and that everything will be OK, even if it wouldn't. But now she didn't need or particularly want the attention.
The pair of them slid into the room and slammed the door behind them before Richards pulled out his keys and locked the doors. Thankfully the room was rather new, which meant very few had a set of keys to get in. Namely Vaughn, Simmons, and one of the newer recruits who's name he could never remember. A young teen fresh out of the academy. One of the best engineering minds to have graduated in the last twenty years, if you were to believe the rumors. Richards sure didn't.
Tegan stared at the device in awe. The anomaly looked like nothing more than a single sheet of tungsten armor, which explained how it blended into the ship. The few times she'd seen one o
n a ship it had been affixed to the lower portion of the ship, well away from crew quarters and recreation areas, but very close to engineering. A few decks by her estimation, which admittedly was nothing more than a guess. Still, she knew there was a reason for the placement. Perhaps they wanted it there to be close to the core, to leech energy intended for somewhere else.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked, staring at the device.
Richards strode to a table in the corner of the room and pulled out a small toolkit. "Right now I need to tear this thing apart. Find out what goodies they have hidden behind the tungsten plating."
"What are you expecting to find inside? Not like there is a ton of room to hide anything.
"True," he admitted as he made his way back to the device. "I guess they have a device inside that is storing power, which is why the scanner could pick it up. Maybe I'll get lucky and find what they were using to draw the power in the first place since this thing hardly seems capable of creating its own."
"Maybe they built in some way for it to store solar energy," she said, guessing. She honestly didn't have a clue if that was even possible. She'd been on ships that powered auxiliary devices with solar power, but she doubted it would provide enough to power a jump.
"I'm not ruling it out," he said. "But I doubt that's the case. Solar power can be useful for some things, but it is not reliable away from a star. It's more likely they are leeching power from the ship." In fact, he was almost sure of it. The question was how. As far as he knew, there was no way to transfer power through a sheet of solid tungsten. At least, not without risking the power dissipating through the rest of the ship. It was more likely they were using some sort of coupler device that attached to one of the mainline wires in the ship.
There was also the possibility they were attaching wires directly to the core. It would provide more than enough energy to power the signal jammers and possibly a whole array of other devices. The thing was, without a way to store a ton of power, he doubted the core could provide enough power for a jump which meant the thing had to be capable of doing far more things than there was logically space for.
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