by Dave Bara
“Was probably already dead,” cut in Marker. “There was nothing you could do for him. It wasn’t your fault.” I picked up my EVA helmet, resigned to my situation, and started for the cargo deck. “Peter,” called Marker after me. “No matter what happens, remember Zander put you in charge for a reason. He trusted you to make the right decisions.” I stopped at that, but didn’t turn around. “You made good decisions today,” Marker finished.
I said nothing to that. What could I say? I just started down to the medical deck, resigned to my fate.
An hour later I was still at my post, watching the monitors on the survivors in the medical docks. Zander’s readings were very low, and I wasn’t medically qualified to know whether he would survive or not. The stasis field had put him into a deep anesthesia mode, nearly suspended animation. Any lower and he would be officially “frozen,” neither alive nor dead, waiting until he could be revived by the superior medical technology on board Impulse. If he could be revived. I checked my watch, noting that we should have docked with Impulse by now. I presumed there must have been some complication, but I was in the dark, literally and figuratively, and that’s where Commander Kierkopf wanted me.
I was surprised a moment later when my com beeped in.
“What’s your status?” it was Commander Kierkopf’s voice.
“They’re all stable. Captain Zander is in the deepest state of stasis. He barely registers on the readouts,” I replied. For a moment there was no response, then:
“Lock them down in their current modes. We don’t need anyone reviving right now. Then get up here.” I was surprised by this but did as instructed, setting the docks so that all the survivors would be kept at their current level of stasis. They could go lower if it was required to keep them alive, but they couldn’t be revived automatically by the system without changing the settings.
I hurried up the staircase from the cargo deck and through the crew cabin to the raised cockpit. When I came in, Dobrina was in the center seat with Layton at the nav station on her left and Marker piloting on her right, closest to me.
“Where was Impulse’s last location?” Commander Kierkopf demanded without looking back at me. I checked Marker’s display for our current spatial coordinates.
“We should be right on top of her,” I stated.
“Should,” said Kierkopf. “But we aren’t.” I stepped up and ran my hands over the controls, verifying for myself. She seemed to tolerate this for the moment.
“These are the right coordinates. At least these are the coordinates she was at when we left her,” I said.
“She’s not here,” said Dobrina. “We’ve scanned an area almost a full AU across. Nothing.”
Marker turned to me. “She’s not where we left her, Peter.”
“Does this ship have any longscope capabilities?” Kierkopf asked. “We’ve got to get a better look, try and find her.”
Without even thinking I pushed Marker aside and stepped in, accessing the limited longscope displays of the Downship. After a few quiet moments I had some answers—not many, but some.
“She wasn’t destroyed, at least not by any weapons we know of, or there’d be debris and trace energy signatures,” I said. I continued to scan. After a few moments Kierkopf was getting impatient.
“Have you got her, or not?” she snapped at me. I shook my head.
“The capabilities of these displays are so limited—”
“I’m sick of excuses, Cochrane.”
“If you’ll just give me another minute, Commander,” I said, working swiftly through the displays, confirming my meager findings.
“Come on!” she insisted. I took another ten seconds before responding to her.
“What I can tell you is that she activated her impeller drives and left the area, apparently on her own. There are enough propulsion traces to indicate her direction, but locating her will be difficult,” I said.
“Where did she go?” demanded Kierkopf. I turned away from my displays to face my new commanding officer directly.
“She was on a course for the inner system, Levant Prime, or possibly one of the satellites. And she was running full bore on the impellers, so much so that she’ll run out of fuel reserves soon. She may be able to make it to Levant, but she won’t be able to make it back out here without scooping more hydrazine,” I said.
“She’s not coming back out here,” said Kierkopf. “She’s on a one-way trip to Levant, for some reason. And I’m betting I know who’s commanding her.”
“Tralfane?” I said. “I left him in command during the rescue.”
She nodded. “Remember when you told me the Historians had their own agenda? I didn’t believe you. Well, now I do. Because the only explanation that makes any sense is that one of them just hijacked our Lightship.”
“But the crew wouldn’t just follow Tralfane’s orders and abandon us,” said Marker. “They’d fight.”
“They may not have had a choice,” said Kierkopf. “None of us really knows what a Historian is capable of, or what controls they have over the ship. The crew could merely be helpless passengers at this point.” She turned to me and looked me directly in the eye. “Do whatever you can, but find Impulse,” she said. Then she turned to Layton. “Plot us a course for Levant Prime, Mr. Layton. As fast as this bucket will go. And let’s pray we can get there in time.”
Nearly four hours later, we were nowhere close to finding Impulse or reaching the inner planets of Levant. To say the Downship was slow and not intended for long-term interplanetary runs was an understatement. Commander Kierkopf, for her part, had grown silent after riding me for the first half hour. Even she seemed to realize that the Downship was not made for pursuit and that her instruments, especially her longscope displays, weren’t geared for the task assigned. We were all growing increasingly frustrated and quiet as we tried to do our jobs. It was Layton who broke the silence, unfortunately with bad news.
“Commander,” he started, his voice jolting us all to attention. “According to the nav computer calculations we’re quickly approaching a decision point. In less than thirty minutes we’ll be at a point where we’ll have to commit to going forward or turning back to the Search and Rescue shuttle.”
“Explain,” she said. Layton paused, considering his words.
“This ship was not meant for extensive interplanetary flight. We’re still about 1.5 AUs from Levant Prime, a bit less from her moons, which might be habitable or have bases on them. We’re still within range of a return to the Search and Rescue, at least for another thirty minutes or so. Once we pass that point though there’ll be no turning back, and we’ll run out of fuel less than halfway to L-Prime. Our life support will last a bit longer, but not much with the four of us on board and three more in stasis in the medical dock.”
“I see,” she said, then went silent for a moment. “So we can’t catch Impulse, can’t track her,” she looked at me then, “and we’ll run out of fuel and energy before we reach Levant. Any other good news?”
“The Search and Rescue will buy us a day or possibly two if we drain all the power from this ship,” said Layton. Dobrina nodded.
“Opinions. Mr. Marker?” she said.
“What about that HD anomaly we detected? It’s a power source. Can we reach it?” he said. I shook my head.
“It’s farther than L-Prime. 3.82 AUs distant,” I replied. Dobrina looked to me.
“Any luck on locating Impulse?” she asked. I shook my head negative.
“Not really, sir. With this equipment, it’s like finding a needle in haystack,” I answered honestly. She considered all this for a moment. Then she made her decision.
“Turn us around, Mr. Marker. No point in delaying the inevitable. Mr. Layton, plot us a course back to the Search and Rescue shuttle.” She paused before turning to me. “And you, Mr. Cochrane. Finding that needle would go a long way toward ea
sing my anger at you.” I nodded, then dove right back into my longscope scans.
The scans were fruitless. We were back to the S&R shuttle in due course and when we got to her, we did a damage survey and concluded our best chance was to actually drain the remaining resources from the S&R rather than transfer to her. We did a series of EVAs, connecting power transfer cables and running the Downship exclusively off of the S&R shuttle power supplies, which were lower than we anticipated. And now we had a clock: eighteen hours and eleven minutes until we exhausted both the S&R power and our own reserves. Then Captain Zander and the others would die, we would put on our EVA suits and live a few hours more, then join them. It was a bleak prospect.
Marker and Layton kept busy converting the rear of the passenger cabin to bunks so we could rest, though as tired as we were none of us were really able to sleep under the circumstances. No one wanted to spend their last few hours of life dozing as if they had no concerns.
I’d taken a rest shift after Layton and Marker, and I was halfway through my two-hour rest period when, unexpectedly, the commander parted the curtains and joined me, lying down in the second bunk across from me. We stayed that way in silence for several minutes, the cabin lights dim and the room quiet. Layton had my station at the longscope, but I felt useless lying there wide awake. So I sat up, ready to resume my duties.
“Please stay,” came the commander’s voice out of the darkness. I dutifully lay back down, waiting for her to continue. “It’s hard for me to admit, but you did end up saving Zander, though I don’t agree with your methods,” she said. I pondered this a moment.
“I acted on impulse. Trying to save the captain was my only thought. I never thought about what I was doing, I just reacted . . . just did it,” I said by way of explanation. She said nothing more for a moment, and I thought perhaps the conversation was done, then:
“I’ve decided your actions in rescuing Zander won’t be in my official report.”
“Thank you, Commander,” I said. Then the silence between us resumed. I had hoped she and I would become friends on our mission. Now I doubted if that would ever happen. After a few more minutes of silence, I sat up.
“Request permission to return to duty, Commander, and resume my scans. I can’t sleep anyway. If I find anything, I’ll let you know right away,” I said. She said nothing in response for a few moments, so I stood to go.
“You did good work in rescuing Zander. Carry on, Commander,” she said from the dark. It was the best compliment she could give me.
Ninety minutes later I had something to report.
“Wake the commander,” I said to Layton. “Tell her I’ve got an HD signal.” What seemed like seconds later Dobrina was standing beside me in the pilot’s cabin. Layton took the nav station again and Marker the con.
“Report,” she said. I turned from my station to face her.
“About ten minutes ago I detected what looked like an HD signal,” I said. “It was faint, and not coming from the direction that Impulse had gone, toward the inner planets. Rather, the signal seemed to be coming from the near jump point. I thought it might be a reflection of some sort of anomaly at the opposing Lagrange point, so I checked it further.”
“And?” she said, impatient.
“The signal is powerful enough to be Impulse, but the mass displacement is far too small,” I continued. “I can’t know for certain with these primitive longscope instruments, but I’d have to say it’s a new ship that has entered the system at the jump point.”
“A new ship? Not Impulse, and not big enough to be a Lightship?” she asked for clarification. I nodded.
“Affirmative. It’s much smaller, but every bit as powerful as Impulse, based on its HD signature. And it’s heading our way,” I said.
“To rescue us, or to finish us off?” she asked. I shook my head.
“Unknown,” I replied. She contemplated this a moment, then:
“Everyone into your EVA helmets. Sidearms and weapons. If they’re coming to finish this, we won’t go down without a fight,” she said.
There was a round of “yes, sir,” and then we all got down to business.
The wait was excruciating. The HD signal was getting stronger, closing directly on our position. I used one of the ’scope displays to get a look at her—she was dark and shaped like a dagger. If I didn’t know she was there from her HD signal I would never have seen her. I had to admit the shape of her looked menacing, and that wasn’t very comforting.
“Is she close enough for radio contact?” asked Kierkopf.
“The ship-to-ship isn’t strong enough for a signal from this distance, and this ship has no longwave,” I said. “But we could try sending an IFF signal.”
“And hope they’re friend, not foe?” she asked. I nodded.
“The way they’re closing on us, it will all be over one way or another in a matter of minutes anyway,” I offered. She thought about this for a moment.
“Send the IFF ping,” she ordered.
“Yes, sir,” I said. I looked to Marker, who had control of the automated signal. He unlatched the key and typed in the code to send the signal. “At this distance we should get a reply within thirty—”
I was cut off by the positive beep from the return. Layton, Marker and I all smiled. Commander Kierkopf did not.
“So they say friend,” she said. “We’ll find out in a few more minutes.”
At that, the radio com chimed for an incoming signal packet. Not a call, but a signal they were ready to receive a call from us. “Radio contact, sir,” I said. Dobrina nodded.
“Let’s reply.” I hit the send button and she spoke. “This is Commander Dobrina Kierkopf of the Union Lightship Impulse. To whom am I speaking?” she said. There was a crackle of static as the line popped and blipped, but the response didn’t come. “To whom am I speaking?” she repeated.
“This is Serosian,” came the raspy reply, “Historian of H.M.S. Starbound, on a rescue mission. Do you need assistance?” Now I smiled broadly.
“Indeed we do,” said Commander Kierkopf. “Indeed we do, sir. Can you lock on our coordinates?”
“Already done, Commander,” came the deep and familiar baritone reply. “I will be alongside you in seven minutes. Prepare to transfer at that time.”
“We have wounded here,” she said. “Can you assist with them?”
“Affirmative,” he replied. “I have full medical facilities on board. May I inquire as to the status of Captain Zander and Impulse?” he asked.
“Captain Zander is one of our injured. Impulse is . . . missing,” Kierkopf replied.
“That’s what I feared,” came Serosian’s voice back through the static. “One last inquiry. Is Peter Cochrane among you, or with Impulse?” he asked. Kierkopf looked at me and smiled.
“Oh, he’s about two feet in front of me, Mr. Serosian. And I’ll be glad when you arrive so that I can be rid of him,” she said.
The chuckle on the other end of the line gave me hope for the first time in days.
Rescue
Serosian’s ship, which he called a Historian’s Yacht, pulled alongside us precisely seven minutes later and extended a sophisticated umbilical to the Downship’s docking port. We had the injured survivors, including Zander, out of their docks and transported to the yacht within thirty minutes. The yacht contained a much more advanced automated medical facility than we had even aboard Impulse. The automated system was contained in a crystalline chamber that glowed and hummed with pulses of white light. I couldn’t pretend to understand its functioning, but Serosian assured me that Zander and the others were already on their way to being healed and in no danger of dying, once we had loaded them onto pallets and sealed them inside the chamber. Recovery could still take weeks though, he said.
The rest of the yacht was every bit as impressive as the medical chamber. From the command deck, Starbound’s H
istorian oversaw every function of the ship, monitoring from behind a central command console big enough for at least three people. He ran his hands effortlessly over the console, his hands moving in and out of the display like he was dipping them in a smooth, black pond. The surface rippled like water when he touched it, but his hands never came back wet from contact.
Behind the console was a pair of adjunct stations. The front of the command deck was entirely taken up with an impressive seamless visual display, which currently showed the way forward. Much like our displays on Impulse, there were a multitude of options: tactical, systems, star map, or “normal” visual view. The whole effect was like being in a high-tech, three-dimensional theater, only what you were watching was real. It was also of far higher quality than what we had available on Impulse, making it seem almost like you were looking out a window into space itself.
Once we were settled, Commander Kierkopf in the couch to Serosian’s left at the main console and me to his right, with Layton and Marker at the rear stations, he put the yacht in motion on a course directly for Levant Prime, leaving the discarded shuttle and Downship behind.
“This vessel is not a standard navy ship,” said Kierkopf, her comment half statement and half question. Serosian shook his head.
“No, Commander, it’s not. But it is part of a standard navy ship,” he said. Her brow furrowed at this answer.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He nodded upward, not taking his attention from his tasks. “If you went one deck above you would find my library, office, and sleeping quarters as they appear on Starbound. In fact, when this ship is docked, it is part of Starbound,” he said.
“Really?” I asked, fascinated by this. “You mean this yacht is the core of Starbound?” He nodded.
“In a sense, yes. Under normal circumstances the yacht is docked inside Starbound, with its own power source, of course, but I only activate it in an emergency or when the yacht needs to operate independently. I can control every aspect of the ship, any system, from here. It was designed as a failsafe, in case anything were to happen to the Lightship’s own hyperdimensional drive.”
