by Dave Bara
“Wait,” said the commander, “we were never told about this capability. Do you mean that at any moment a ship’s Historian can take control of any Lightship?” Serosian nodded soberly in response.
“And this is what I fear has happened with Impulse. Tralfane is from a different school of thought than I am, a different sect of the Historian Order, if you will. Something must have happened to cause him to act, to take control of Impulse, for her own good.”
“Or for his own purposes,” I said. Commander Kierkopf waved me off.
“And the command crew of Impulse, or any other Lightship, are never told of this command override functionality that you Historians possess?” she asked. He looked at her sidelong for a moment.
“Since you are the acting captain of Impulse, I will answer that question, even though I am under no obligation to do so. Captain Zander knows of this, as does Captain Maclintock of Starbound and Captain Scott of Valiant. The idea was presented by us to the Unified Navy command during the design phase of the Lightship program, and signed off on by Admiral Wesley and your father, Peter,” he said, turning to me. Then he turned back to Kierkopf. “And so now I am informing you because you are the acting captain of Impulse.”
Acting Captain Kierkopf paused for a moment to let that sink in, which afforded me an opportunity to jump in with my own questions.
“I don’t understand how Starbound is functioning without the yacht connected. And how did you know we were in trouble?” I asked.
He smiled at me, like he always did. “Starbound is perfectly fine. She has her own HD drives and can carry out her mission for months before the crystal will need any kind of maintenance. As for how I knew you were in trouble, I didn’t. But I did have orders from Admiral Wesley to shadow your mission, in case you got in trouble. And you did, Peter,” he said. “Though not in the way we anticipated.”
“That’s certain,” said Captain Kierkopf. “And I don’t want to break up your happy reunion, but I have a serious question: can we catch Impulse?”
Serosian’s smile faded and he looked more pensive now. “Unlikely,” he said. “We have the same impeller propulsion capabilities as she does, which means Tralfane can keep his distance as much as he wants to.”
“But he’s burning his impellers full bore. His fuel reserves must be nearly gone,” I protested.
“The impellers are designed to channel energy from the Hoagland Drive if necessary. He may never run out of fuel,” said Serosian.
“Something else that isn’t in the specs,” I stated. Things got quiet as Captain Kierkopf contemplated the situation.
“Where’s he going with my ship?” she said. “Why Levant?”
“Because I suspect there is something there that he values, something he knows about, or suspects. Something he wants.”
“To what end?”
“As I stated, his school has a different philosophy than mine. We are dedicated to the Union and to your well-being and protection, your nurturing, if you will. His school believes that the strongest should rule. It may be that he has decided that the empire represents the best chance for humankind’s rejuvenation.”
“Which makes him our enemy,” said Kierkopf. At that a signal chime beeped in. Serosian checked his panels, which were a mystery to me, running his hands across the console. “What is it?” asked the captain.
“Bad news. I’m picking up signs of depleted hyperdimensional energy along our current path. That can mean only one thing.”
“What?”
“He’s bombarding Impulse’s primary HD drive crystals with anti-protons,” said the Historian.
“Which means?” the Historian looked grim.
“He’s destroying her hyperdimensional drive. If he’s controlling Impulse from the yacht, it means he’s crippling her.”
Six hours later I was working at the yacht’s impressive longscope station when our circumstances changed dramatically.
“I’ve got a signal,” I called back to my companions. Serosian and Kierkopf were hovering over my shoulders in seconds.
“Report,” demanded Dobrina.
“I’m not sure if it’s Impulse yet, but the signal is strong and I’m detecting depleted duranium on the trail we’ve been tracking,” I said. The two of them watched as I brought up the long-range tactical display on the main viewer.
“That’s her,” said Serosian, after only a second.
“What’s she doing?” asked Dobrina.
“Maneuvering,” said the Historian, pointing to a red path that displayed Impulse’s track. “She slowed long enough to orbit the smaller satellite, here. It cost her nearly four hours of her lead on us. But now she’s passed behind the satellite and is back on track for Levant Prime.”
“But why would she stop? What could be on the satellite that would make Tralfane give up nearly four hours of his cushion against us? He must know we’re coming,” I said.
“He certainly does,” said Serosian. “He needed something from the satellite, and felt it was important enough to risk going there and losing more than half his cushion. He’ll need time to accelerate as well. What’s our current distance?”
“Three point four light-hours,” I replied after checking my display.
“Can we catch him?” Dobrina asked Serosian. The Historian nodded.
“At his current speed,” he said. “we can get within firing distance before he reaches Levant. But it will be close. Very, very close. And we don’t know for sure if Levant is even his objective. He could be aiming for some other target, something closer. Even the larger moon, perhaps.”
Captain Kierkopf stood up and crossed her arms. “Is there something you’re not telling us? Or something you suspect?” she said. “I insist that you share.”
Now Serosian stood to his full height, facing the captain as I swiveled in my chair, looking up at both of them. Serosian was impressive in his tallness, his all-black Historian’s garb making him seem even more imposing than normal. But Dobrina was strong in her own right, I’d seen it before, on the fencing court, and she wasn’t going to back down from him. She believed herself to be in command of this mission, and she was going to fight for that command.
Serosian clasped his hands behind his back before speaking. “Commander Kierkopf—” he started.
“Captain Kierkopf,” she interrupted, insisting that he acknowledge her acting rank. He nodded.
“Captain, I can only conclude that this maneuver had some intent. A Historian like Tralfane, so well trained and experienced, would not freely give as much ground to us as he did without some goal in mind. What that goal is I don’t know,” he said.
“But you suspect?” Again he gave that slight nod of acknowledgment. She eyed him warily. “Then I demand to know what it is that you suspect.”
Serosian contemplated her, the two of them engaging in a standoff right above me.
“I would prefer to keep my suspicions private until I have more knowledge of the situation,” he said.
“Not acceptable,” she replied. “Not at all.”
“Captain, please understand, there is certain knowledge that I possess that I have sworn an oath to my faith to protect. No orders from you or anyone else of any rank, or royal station,” at this he glanced in my direction, “will be sufficient for me to reveal all that I know, or suspect.”
Dobrina opened her mouth to protest again but he quickly held up his hand to her.
“However,” he started again, lowering the hand, “I will promise you that at the proper time, if circumstances warrant, I will reveal to you and anyone else involved with this situation all that is necessary for you to know in order for you to act to protect your lives and this ship.”
She nodded, not satisfied, I could see, but accepting, for the moment. “And what about Impulse?” Dobrina said.
Serosian got a pensive look before
answering. “All I can tell you is that your ship and its crew are in grave danger, and that I will do everything in my power to save her and her crew.”
“I will hold you to that, Mr. Serosian,” said the captain, not breaking eye contact.
With that, Serosian started away, calling back to us. “I’ll be in my private chambers. If anything changes, I will return. No need to keep me updated, I can monitor all stations from my personal console.” And with that he was gone.
The captain dropped her arms down to her sides, hands clenched together in fists, clearly frustrated. Then she spun my chair back around to my station, leaned in close, and whispered fiercely in my ear.
“How well do you know this man?” she demanded of me. I hesitated, but only for a second.
“Well enough to know he would give his life for me or anyone else on board, sir,” I said.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” she replied. “Your orders, Commander, are to keep your eyes open, your sidearm loaded, and your loyalty firmly rooted to the Union Navy. Do you understand me, Commander?”
“I do, sir,” I said quickly. I felt her nod against me.
“Report any change to me immediately, not to him.” Then she straightened up. “Carry on, Commander,” she said in a casual voice, and then walked away from my station.
I turned back to my display board, wondering again what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
It took us six more hours at full propulsion, but we had halved Tralfane’s lead in that time.
“What’s he doing?” asked the captain rhetorically as we watched our former ship crawling toward the inner moon of Levant Prime. “It’s almost like he’s waiting for us.”
“That’s exactly what he’s doing,” said Serosian, surprising us both. The Historian’s unexpected return to the yacht’s nerve center had caught us off guard. We snapped around to see him standing over us after having emerged from his inner sanctum.
“Explain,” said Dobrina. This time Serosian crossed his arms.
“I’ve analyzed both his power emissions and his projected course. I can only conclude that he is exactly where he wants to be. He could have accelerated a long time ago and put us out of range to even track him. I can only conclude that he is therefore waiting for us to arrive.”
“Waiting for us?” asked Dobrina. “Waiting to do battle?”
Serosian shook his head. “I doubt that. He would know that this yacht and Impulse are an even match in any battle. He must have something else in mind. A display, perhaps.”
“Display?” I said. “Of what?”
The Historian shrugged. “I could only speculate, which I am not going to do.” Now Dobrina crossed her arms again as the two of them engaged in another standoff.
“You’ve been very unhelpful, Mr. Serosian,” she said. He nodded.
“And yet, here we are, within barely a light-hour of our target. I suggest, Captain, that we adjust our course not to intercept Impulse, but to get us within firing range as soon as possible,” he said. The captain looked to me.
“Can we do that?” she asked. I turned to my console.
“If we adjust our track, I can put us in a parabolic approach, which will shorten our distance to firing range by nearly twenty minutes,” I said, turning back to my friend and my commanding officer in expectation. The captain hesitated only a second.
“Do it,” she commanded, then walked away toward Marker and Layton, who were in their rest bunks. Serosian stepped up.
“Well done, Peter,” he said. I shrugged.
“It is your ship,” I said, plugging in the calculations as my fingers swept over the smooth console.
“Yes, but you have mastered the controls rather elegantly. You have great learning skills, Peter. And that may come in very handy in the next few hours.”
“You suspect trouble from Tralfane?” I said without turning from my work.
“Suspect? No,” he said. “I expect it.”
I laid in our new course without another word. The yacht adjusted and moved at my commands, diving into the darkness between two moons and into a very uncertain future.
A Battle over Levant
Our track took us close to the outer moon of Levant Prime, the larger of the two. The inner moon was smaller and in a close orbit to the outer moon, only about fifty thousand kilometers distant. Both were tidally locked to the main planet however, and except for the occasional close approach we were witnessing now, the two seemed to rarely bother each other.
Impulse was between us and the inner moon. She’d slowed to nearly a crawl, in space terms, just ten thousand clicks between us. But we were starting to decelerate, hoping to gain a firing solution on her in the next few minutes as we curved under the larger outer moon and out of her shadow.
We were all at stations now: Dobrina and Serosian to my left, Layton and Marker at tactical stations behind us. I was responsible for helm and weapons, Marker for defense and Layton, propulsion. Captain Kierkopf sat nervously, obviously unhappy at being left out of both the decision making and the line duties. Her fingernails tapped on the console’s metal edge.
“Status, Mr. Layton?” asked Serosian.
“Deceleration complete, sir. Impellers on standby at your command,” he replied. The Historian nodded.
“Mr. Cochrane, you’re flying her now. Bring us about to point seven-five-five above the solar ecliptic. Prepare to fire on my order,” he said. I looked to the captain, who opened her mouth to say something, then nodded to me.
“Aye, sir,” I said, then adjusted our course and speed to bring Impulse into our sights.
“Mr. Marker,” said Serosian, “power the forward coil cannon and transfer firing command to Mr. Cochrane.”
“Aye, sir,” replied Marker. “Should I enhance the Hoagland Field forward to protect us from Impulse’s reply?” he asked. It was a logical question, I thought. Serosian nearly bit his head off.
“Negative,” boomed the Earthman. “Maintain full shield integrity in all directions equally. The field generators will adjust automatically as need be. We have to be prepared for an attack from any angle.”
At this the captain leaned in to the Historian and spoke softly, but still loud enough for me to hear.
“What do you suspect?” she asked.
“Anything, Captain,” said Serosian, equally quietly. “Anything.”
I was momentarily distracted from my board. When I looked back at my tactical display it had gone red.
“Sir,” I said loudly, “It’s Impulse, she’s—”
“Accelerating again. I see it,” said Serosian. “Mr. Layton, impellers at half force, if you please. Mr. Cochrane, stay on your tactical display and continue to calculate a firing solution. I will handle the helm from here.”
I acknowledged his order and went back to my board, recalculating every few seconds as Impulse maneuvered away from us, now tacking back toward the larger moon. I focused on her, tracking her every move as I scrambled for my firing solution.
I was unsure what happened next. I found myself on the floor, looking up at my console, disoriented and dizzy. I heard a voice in my ear, but it was muddy and distant. I closed my eyes again and rolled my head from side to side. Suddenly the sound of an impact alarm became clear in my mind, groaning loudly as I tried to sit up. I felt a firm hand lift me up by the arm and drop me back in my seat. I looked to Serosian, who was back at the control console, his hands moving desperately across the board.
“What happened?” I mumbled. My own voice sounded distorted inside my head, like I was hearing it through bad speakers.
“Displacement wave,” said Serosian. “From the large moon. If we’d had our defensive field focused forward on Impulse we wouldn’t be here now.”
I looked to the captain. She was unconscious on her station couch, as were Marker and Layton. “How—” I start
ed. Serosian cut me off.
“You were linked into the tactical system. It kept you from taking the full surge of the wave,” he said. “Can you function, Peter? I need you to take the tactical again if you can. We have to take out those wave generators before they fire again or we’re finished.” I nodded yes and then turned back to my board, linking into the plasma and “feeling” the controls under my fingertips once again. My display came back online and I tried to track what we were aiming at. Impulse was long gone from my screen and I could see Serosian had turned us back toward the larger moon. As near as I could tell he was trying to track an energy tracer back to the origin point of the wave. I watched as he tacked the yacht, angling her away from the trace.
“Can you get a firing solution now, Peter?” he asked. “I’ve got my hands full with the helm.” I nodded affirmative and took over the tracking, then activated the forward coil cannon. The tactical display gave me an almost instant firing solution.
“Got it,” I said aloud.
“Fire when ready,” Serosian responded. I hit the firing control and watched as the orange bolt of energy ripped through space instantaneously, lancing the surface of the rocky moon and causing a massive explosion of material, dust, and debris. Serosian scanned the site quickly as he turned the yacht back toward Impulse, which was accelerating away from us toward the inner moon on full impellers now. She’d apparently pivoted the instant we were hit by the displacement wave.
“Neutralized,” said Serosian. “Good shooting.”
At this Dobrina began to moan and opened her eyes. “What happened?” she asked.
“Displacement wave,” I said to her. “From the outer moon. It’s been neutralized.” She nodded and then turned toward Marker and Layton, getting up and helping them back to their stations.
