Starfarer's Dream (Kinsella Universe Book 4)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  “Oh, no, Ensign! The rest of us are the ones thanking you! Word has it that at one point we were less than two minutes from being turned into plasma. You’ll never have to thank anyone from Guam again, for the rest of your life.” The young man paused, and then asked, “Thirsty?”

  “Very!” Terry agreed fervently.

  The medic brought a small squeeze bottle close to Terry’s mouth and gave him a small squirt. It was then that Terry remembered he couldn’t lift his hands.

  “You can’t have much yet, Ensign. This close to surgery, you could choke if you were sick to your stomach.”

  “My hands? Am I all right?”

  The young medic looked across him, to the instruments.

  “Sir, you are fine, just fine. You suffered from heat stroke and some burns to your hands; those weren’t good, not good at all, Ensign. The injury is mostly skin damage, although you may lose some sensation in your fingertips temporarily. The docs have fixed it all. You’ll be fine, sir. A few days and you’ll be in physical therapy. That won’t be comfortable, but you’ll recover completely.”

  “And the others?”

  The medic’s expression turned bleak. “Sorry, sir. You were the only one who made it out of Engineering. The only other patients I’ve had were a couple of blokes from damage control. They had minor cuts and burns. Antiseptic, plasters and ‘well done, mate’ for all of them.”

  “More water, please,” Terry implored. Anything, anything at all to avoid thinking about the unthinkable. Why him? Why had he lived and the rest hadn’t?

  The medic nodded. This time there was even less water than before. Terry felt sleepy and a few seconds later drifted off.

  When Terry woke again, at least he remembered which way to look. This time there was a youngish woman standing talking to an older man, both in medical red shipsuits.

  “Water,” Terry croaked.

  To Terry’s surprise, it was the older man who fetched him the little squirt bottle, while the woman nodded and left the compartment.

  “How are you feeling, son?” the doctor asked.

  “Better, sir,” Terry admitted. His wrists felt odd. Very odd. He tried moving them again, but they were gently strapped down.

  “I’m Lieutenant Commander Gary Woods, your doctor,” Terry was told. “I’m sure you’d like to hear your prognosis.”

  “Yes, sir.” Terry braced himself for the worst.

  “There was some serious heat injury to your hands. The Chief explained that it is difficult to impossible to work with gauntlets, particularly in the situation you faced. When damage control finally cut their way into the engineering space, the ambient was 75 degrees centigrade. You had suffered extensive second degree burns to your hands, plus heat shock. A shipsuit makes a fine roasting bag.”

  Terry grimaced and the doctor shrugged. “I’m not trying to sugar coat this, son. If they’d been ten minutes more you would have literally been cooked alive.

  “Your hands have been treated with skin grafts. I looked at them a little while ago and I don’t think we will have to do any more surgery. There will be some scarring, but it will be minor. All of the ligaments and tendons are fine, there’s no nerve damage that we haven’t been able to repair. With a proper regimen of physical therapy you will make a full and complete recovery. We have come a long way in the treatment of burns, and you will benefit greatly from that knowledge.

  “You will spend a few days in sick bay. Then we’ll take off the bandages and you’ll start therapy. That will be two weeks, perhaps three, of very intensive therapy, four hours a day at first, expanding to six. At that point you will be fit for light duty. In eight weeks or so, you should be fully recovered.

  “It is my understanding you were bound for Agincourt via Gandalf. They are still evaluating the damage to Guam. For the time being, you will stay aboard; there will probably be something going your way in the next few weeks. Guam is going to be parked in orbit around New Texas for some time.”

  The young woman was back and she said quietly, “They said five minutes, Commander.”

  “Thank you, nurse.”

  The doctor turned back to Terry. “I hope you are up for a few visitors. There are some folks who want to say a few words to you.”

  A few minutes later Chief Engineer Douglas came in, along with a very short woman. She was Oriental, with dark brown eyes that stared at him relentlessly. From Terry’s position he couldn’t see her shipsuit cuffs; she was wearing the plain white of line command with the only adornment he could see was a Guam ship pin over her left pocket.

  “Ensign Terry Morrison,” the chief engineer said, “this is Captain Shi Gong, captain of the Guam.”

  Terry had heard her name; he’d never actually seen her before. She was short, built like a human fireplug, with a long black braid of hair that ran all of the way down to the small of her back. She was of ethnic Chinese ancestry, including epicanthic folds and dusky yellow skin.

  Captain Gong came close, leaned over the bed and kissed Terry on both cheeks. “Ensign Morrison, my very great honor,” she said as she stepped back.

  Chief Douglas was next and he repeated the gesture. “My very great honor, Ensign Morrison.” He too stepped back.

  Captain Gong produced a sheet of paper and started to read from it.

  “Attention to orders. Special Order 1, June 16th, 2445. On June 13th, 2445, Ensign of the Fleet Terrence Leigh Morrison, while a supernumerary officer aboard the Fleet Transport Guam, was standing engineering watch. Ensign Morrison, while not part of Guam’s regular crew, had, on his own initiative, volunteered for the additional duty. At 0134 GMT of that day, Guam executed a return to normal fan mode, and seventy-eight seconds later suffered the failure of the confinement of number five fan. Said fan did then break up and subsequently vented uncontained debris into the primary engineering spaces of the Guam. Ensign Morrison was the only one of six watch standers not instantly killed. Further, even though he had already suffered injuries...”

  “I cut my hand,” Terry said, wanting to minimize it.

  “Hush, boy,” the Chief Engineer of the Guam said with mock gruffness, “you’re spoiling the Captain’s moment here.” He laughed and the captain actually stuck her tongue out at the chief engineer, before continuing.

  “...suffered minor injuries, Ensign Morrison availed himself of an emergency bubble, and then turned to his duty station, where it became apparent that the fusion reactor was in the process of running away. In spite of his injuries, in spite of the serious fires and serious damage to the engineering space, Ensign Morrison stayed at his post, dealing with the engineering malfunction then in progress.

  “While Ensign Morrison remained at his post, the environment in the engineering space failed. When the damage control party reached him, Ensign Morrison was unconscious, with serious burns to his hands and was suffering severe thermal shock.

  “It is solely because of Ensign Morrison’s actions that Guam’s fusion reactor did not fail. Said failure would have almost certainly resulted in the loss of the Guam and all sixteen hundred and forty-seven souls, then aboard.

  “Ensign Terrence Leigh Morrison is hereby awarded the Federation Legion of Merit for the courage he showed doing his duty and the Purple Heart for injuries received in doing his duty. It is the judgment of this officer that Ensign Morrison did his duty and more.” The captain looked up and met Terry’s eyes.

  “Signed, Rear Admiral of the Fleet, Thomas Wu, Commanding, Fleet Aloft, New Texas Fleet Base.”

  Captain Gong pulled a box from a pocket on her ship suit leg and opened it. She pinned two medals to Terry’s pillow. She stepped back and saluted, so did the chief engineer.

  “Your turn, Chief,” the captain said.

  The chief engineer nodded. “Special Order Number 2, blah blah, blah blah. Ensign Morrison, Terrence Leigh, is herewith promoted Lieutenant, Junior Grade, of the Fleet, Date of Rank, 0134 14 May, 2445. More blah, blah.

  “Signed, Rear Admiral Thomas Wu.”r />
  The engineer reached into a shipsuit pocket, took out and clipped a two pip bar on Terry’s pillow next to the medals.

  “Normally,” Captain Gong said into the silence that followed, “about now I’d shake your hand and tell you how much I appreciate you saving my ship and my people.” She waved at his pillow. “This is one way of saying thanks and I personally want to tell you, that if you ever need any help or advice, you may feel free to call upon me at any time.

  “No captain is ever comfortable coming so close to losing their ship. There has already been an informal board and there will be a more formal one in a few days. You will be called, but I believe they intend to tape your testimony here in sick bay. Don’t worry about it.

  “This was, quite simply, an engineering malf. Since we were not destroyed, we have full telemetry -- there was nothing anyone could have done. From the time the fan casing crystallized, until the time the fan blew was less than a second. Another second later tons of shrapnel flew into the engineering spaces. I am told that this sort of malf, where the casing crystallizes like this, happens every ten or twelve years. We were only the second ship in the last fifty years to survive; the propulsion engineering boffins are busy back there now, looking at everything, trying to pin down the cause.”

  “Captain,” Terry said, still trying to adjust to all of it, “all I did was duck. I didn’t stick my head up again until the dust had settled. I wasn’t brave; I was terrified.”

  The chief engineer laughed at him. “Boy, you listen to me! Listen good! There was only one thing you could do during that malf! One thing! Stay alive! And then, when the dust settled, your job was to look around and do what you could do! The fan was past help, so was Lieutenant Anvari and the rest of our people, God bless their souls! You did what you could, Lieutenant! That’s your job.” He waved at the pillow. “That’s our way of saying thanks; sorry we couldn’t be there to help.”

  “I was scared.”

  “Only a fool wouldn’t have been terrified,” the chief said roughly. “I was on my way down to check in. It knocked me from my feet. I hammered at the hatch, but I couldn’t get the damn thing open.

  “What I should have done, boy, was skedaddle back to the bridge as soon as I saw I couldn’t open the hatch. That was where I was supposed to be. That delay cost you five minutes in that hole, Lieutenant. That’s how much sooner we could have gotten to you, if I’d done as I was supposed to.”

  “For what it’s worth,” the captain’s voice was filled with emotion, “if it had been me at that hatch and I had crew on the other side, they’d have had to drag me away, kicking and screaming, just like they did the Chief.”

  Eventually everyone left and Terry slept again. The next time he awoke, they gave him juice to drink, even some soup, and for the first time, they released his hands.

  The doctor was adamant. “Don’t use them for the next day or two, not so much as to pick your nose. The new tissue is still growing and is very sensitive. It is relatively easy to damage; you don’t want us to have to do any more grafting. It’s painful.” He made a face.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon Rosa came in. “Feel up to a visitor?” she asked from the door.

  “Yeah, sure,” Terry told her.

  She came in, saw what was on the pillow, and gestured towards the brass. “Pretty good.”

  Terry glanced at the items on his pillow for the millionth time and shook his head. “All I did was my job.”

  She sniffed. “Sure! I saw the pictures of the engineering space afterwards, you know. It’s amazing anyone could have survived the fan dump.” She shook her head. “And ‘doing your duty’ while slowly roasting...”

  “Rosa, to be honest, I never felt it. I cut my hand and I felt that; it stung. But the heat -- I never noticed it. Honest. I just kept feeling more and more tired.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ll never hear it from the others, but thanks, Terry, thank you for doing what you did.”

  Terry bit his lip, unsure what to say.

  Rosa saved him the trouble. “Guam is delayed in route. Fleet has evaluated the delay, and those of us going on to Gandalf are scheduled on a courier that comes in next week. All four of us. They say you’ll be able to travel by then.”

  “Well, I can’t say as I won’t be ready.” Terry sighed. Everything had started to itch; it was like being in hell. “I’m ready now, for that matter.” Rosa smiled. The surprise was when she tossed him a salute before leaving.

  II

  Joachim Wolf tapped his index finger lightly on the comp’s space bar; it knew him and ignored him.

  “Something’s wrong,” he announced to the others. “They should have talked before now. Willow, check the other channels.”

  Willow had hardly started pushing keys when Grand Point started talking again. “All ships! All ships! General Warning! Unknown vessels are firing on Agincourt shipping! Any ship outside the fan limit, jump for Earth! I say again, jump for Earth! Now! If you are inside the fan limit, cut your drives! Go inert and do not radiate! This is a Fleet Emergency Order! All ships hearing this, outside the limit, jump for home! Inside the limit, cut your drives! Do not radiate! This is a Fleet Emergency Order! Unknowns are firing on shipping in the system! If you are outside the limit, immediate jump for Earth! Jump for Earth at once!” The familiar voice kept repeating the same things over and over.

  Joachim looked at Willow, who was sitting staring at the controls, a look of consternation on her face. “What, Willow?”

  Willow glanced at her mother, at her younger sister, and then spoke in a level voice, “Nine minutes ago, the sensor net reported that five ships emerged from High Fan in the outer system, as nearly at the same instant as the sensors could detect.” She looked at her father, who stared back at her, unblinking, almost instantly understanding the import of five ships arriving on the same tick.

  “Five minutes ago, the unknowns jumped again. The fan signatures from five intra-system ships outside the fan limit have stopped registering; all of these ships were located close to the original emergence points of the unknowns. When the unknowns jumped again, one dropped close to the remaining ship outside the limit, the others in proximity to ships near the fan limit.”

  Grand Point spoke, as if on cue. “Space raid! Space raid! This is not a drill! Unknowns have appeared and are firing on shipping! All ships go silent! If you have High Fan capability, as soon as you get outside the limit, head for Earth! Be cautious, the unknowns will attempt to intercept!” That started to repeat.

  Joachim sat chilled. There was no further talk about jumping for home; Grand Point knew that no surviving ships were in position any longer to attempt it.

  Joachim stared at his wife for a long second, and then said as calmly as he could muster, “We’re docked with a great huge chunk of nickel iron,” his voice was soft, but clear and firm. “We are linked with Grand Point only by comm laser. We are probably undetectable.” He took a deep breath.

  Willow reported, her voice steady as she studied the instruments. “The last outer system ship no longer shows a fan signature. Another of the inner system ships has gone missing. Another. Tug Astoria reports a very large nuclear explosion from the vicinity of one of them. Now they report two missiles on an intercept course. Astoria is now silent; they no longer show a fan signature. Most ships haven’t gotten the warning in time, or have no way to respond.”

  Willow’s voice was tight. She knew the young man on the comms aboard Astoria; she’d known him to talk to since they had both been little. He’d stopped talking in mid-word. He’d tried to be dry and laconic, but his voice had cracked with fear. And now he was forever gone.

  Grand Point was speaking again. “One of the unknowns is maneuvering against Grand Point. We have charged up the lasers.” The voice faded, and then there was an audible gulp. “Four missiles inbound. We have two lasers; the missiles are hot and fast. One interception, at point eight light seconds.” Moments later he reported, “Second intercepti
on, point five light seconds. I don’t th...” The transmission stopped and almost instantly the sensor board on Wolfs’ Daughters lit up.

  “Two severe radiation transients, source likely Grand Point; we were on a direct line of sight,” Willow reported. She looked up at her father. “We are at a light minute and a bit. And we just took a little over a half rad at the hull. Those were really large detonations.”

  Joachim Wolf looked at his wife. “Please, dear, take the children down to the radiation cofferdam.”

  “Can you get us out of here?” his wife asked.

  “No,” Joachim said bluntly, and then waved at the screen. “If we turn on the fans, we’ll be detected. I don’t know for sure what’s happening now, but I can imagine. They are eliminating the ships closest to the fan limit. Then they’ll go for Agincourt...”

  Even Willow jerked at that; her mother started crying.

  “Dear, take the children to the cofferdam!” her father demanded imperiously.

  “Not me!” Willow told him, her voice still tight with fear and anger. “You can’t be up here alone.”

  “And you can’t afford more radiation, Willow,” her father said.

  “There are no other ships or habitats close.” She waved at her board. “The computer says the weapons that took out Grand Point were both over a gigaton. If they shoot at us, I’ll have a lot more trouble having babies than a trivial fraction of a half rad radiation dose.”

  “Willow, please,” her mother pleaded.

  “No,” Willow’s voice was determined, her earlier nervousness gone. “Mom, you and Dee Dee, go. Dad needs someone to spell him.”

  There was a moment of intense hugs; quite a few tears, and then the others were gone.

  “Thank you,” her father told her. “You didn’t tell them anything about what’s going on at Agincourt.”

  Willow had tried to hold it back, now she failed; she started leaking tears. “We can’t do anything. We can’t help them.”

  The official channel from Agincourt had been broadcasting warnings; three ships had lifted, cranking their fans at ruinously dangerous triple digit percentages of max power. One of those ships was the Fleet cruiser based on Agincourt and the other two were unarmed merchant ships. Those two ships were going out to spit at the bad guys, because that was about all they were going to be able to hit them with. And, sadly, there was no doubt from the voices from the planet that they knew what was going to happen. And in the space of the next two hours, it did happen.