by SF Edwards
“Sir, the battle at Tamkin’s Star was ten annura ago. The Geffers aren’t looking for a fight any more than we are.”
Admiral Sadrick had fought the Galactic Federation his whole career, and he’d spent the last decade watching their every move. I can’t just ignore my gut or the intel reports I’ve been reading, he thought. “I know. I was there, but something about this still sits wrong with me.”
A commotion at the navigation station drew the Admiral’s attention. “Sir, are we scheduled to have another ship join us?”
Admiral Sadrick pulled up a holographic screen on his armrest and checked his last fleet movement update. “No. Why? What are you detecting?”
The navigator pulled the readout over from the sensor operator’s screen to confirm his findings. “Well, sir, we’re too far out from the jump-point to get a thermal or mass flux reading to be sure if someone entered the system. But, I’m detecting a shift in the local dark matter density consistent with a ship slipstreaming towards us.”
Admiral Sadrick jumped to his feet. A Confederation ship would have announced itself upon entering the system. “Helm get us into a higher orbit so that we can get a clear signal out and prepare to slipstream away if need be.”
The executive officer shook his head. “Sir, I…”
“Sir! Sensors have a positive read on an incoming mass. It’s a ship and it’s launched something!” the sensor operator hollered.
“On screen!” Admiral Sadrick ordered. He turned to the main viewscreen. His eyes wide, a Slipstream Torpedo emerged from its sheath of dark energy a millicent before it crashed into the forward hull.
UCSBS-Vaurnel, Forward Quarters
Eager to watch the ship’s final slamball tournament, young Schan Vaughnt trailed behind his little sister, Jell, as they made their way aft from the forward living quarters. He wasn’t sure what to think when he felt the ship shudder with the first torpedo that speared the Vaurnel’s forward hull. Curious, he turned back and witnessed the apartment decks disappear in a burning flash of nuclear fire. The shockwave threw the two of them to the deck as the void of space replaced the passageway. The ship’s internal shielding proved their only protection from the explosion’s fatal radiation.
Schan felt a hurricane-force blast from within the ship slam into him. He gasped as the pressure sensors within his jumpsuit activated the emergency pressure hood an instant later. Nano-fibers in the lining closed the hood over his head, leaving only clear slits in front of his eyes. Emergency mittens closed over his hands and the suit sealed itself against the vacuum.
Growing up aboard ship, their parents and teachers had taught the youngsters what to do in case of a hull breach. The two of them clambered for the railings on the walls. Schan reached the railing first and hooked his elbow against it as the air surged past. The howling wind tore at them without mercy as it rushed into the void, attempting to pull them with it. Schan watched in horror as his little sister lost her footing and began to tumble towards him, her pretty pink dress flapping around her. He reached out a hand to grab her as she flailed towards him, her screams inaudible over the howling air.
Eyes wide with terror, he missed Jell's hand, instead catching a fistful of her dress. He held onto her with all the strength he could muster, but his hold on the railing began to fail. His six-annura-old body could barely support his own weight against the torrent, let alone his sister’s. She reacted on instinct and twisted around to grab hold with both hands.
Fear gripped Schan, but he rotated his body to shield Jell from the forceful air and help her keep her grip. Turning, he looked upon the shattered remains of the apartment decks. The snapped support beams looked more like the broken bones of some massive beast than the interior passage of a starship. The tugging on his arm as his sister climbed up drew Schan’s eyes back to her. She reached his eye level a heart-thudding moment later and wrapped her arms around his neck. Schan grabbed hold of the railing with his now free hand.
He screamed at her, “Jell shut your eyes, breathe out!” The instruction was one that adults had drilled into their heads for so long that he did it on reflex when he felt air pressure changes. She only cried in response, as his orders echoed back inside his hood. The air hurtling past them ripped away her tears. He gritted his teeth with the realization that she could neither hear him nor see his face through the slits in his mask, and he watched helpless as she continued to cry and gasp for air. Why do you always have to wear that silly dress?
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. His elbow screamed out in pain as the railing dug into it. He tried to locate the Emergency Pressure Bulkhead. Are we inboard of it? When the door closes, will the bulkhead save us, or leave us to die in the vacuum? Once he was outside the ship, his suit would only protect him a few scant pulses. Jell wouldn’t have even that.
The answer came a moment later as the bulkhead slammed shut. The howling air ceased in an instant and they dropped back to the deck to the screaming of the warning klaxons.
Frightened and unsure of what to do next, Schan tore back his hood and hugged his sister close. He remembered the holo-programs his grandfather had insisted they watch, the many documentaries about ships coming under attack. What had just happened reminded him of those many programs. This doesn’t make any sense. Mommy and daddy said the war was over before I was born. Why would anyone attack the Vaurnel? It was a research ship. Jell sat on the deck, shaking in fright as Schan adjusted his grip around her. She cried into her big brother’s chest, whimpering. “Blazer, what do we do now?”
Schan looked down at his sister with relief. She never called him by his birth name, just by the nickname their grandfather had given him. Only his teachers and his mother called him Schan. The nickname, Blazer, always made him feel stronger and braver. Grandpa named your Blazer for a reason. Be Blazer now. Get Jell to the core shelter. Blazer grabbed Jell’s hand and hefted her from the floor. Then, he ran as fast as he could, dragging Jell behind him, in spite of her complaints.
UCSBS-Vaurnel, Main Engineering
Deep in the bowels of the ship, the rocking of the explosion threw Blazer’s father, Chief Engineer Jorden Vaughnt, hard against the rungs of the ladder from the lower engine nacelle. Was that an explosion? The klaxons were his answer as he proceeded up the access tube, his training taking over. He knew every system of this ship inside and out, and he flipped through the possibilities in his mind. By the feel of it, the explosion had come from the forward end of the ship, so the engines should be fine. The sensor mounts? No; nothing explosive there. The maneuvering thrusters? Not likely, even if a probe detonated in the launcher, the explosion was too large. We don’t have any probes with engines large enough to make the ship to lurch so violently. That left only one explanation. Who would have attacked a research ship? Could it be pirates seeking easy prey? He reached the top of the ladder well and rushed into the main engineering compartment.
Jorden stumbled as the ship lurched again from a second blast. Far less violent this time: must have been a near miss. Neutrino Meters on the bulkhead beside him revealed the amount of radiation released by the blast. The signature was unmistakable: a reaction warhead.
Reaction warheads consisted of an ablative shielding around a nuclear charge that ignited into a ball of plasma hot enough to melt hull plating. They were cheap and pirates liked to use them. Nevertheless, that blast, even as a near miss, was too powerful for a pirate’s reaction warhead. That left one candidate. The Galactic Federation? But why? Did we stumble upon something the Galactic Federation didn’t want us to find? Or is some overzealous commander willing to risk restarting the war for an easy kill?
The answers could wait as Jorden tore into main engineering. His priority now was to save the ship and its crew. He considered his options. Our shields are too weak to repel an attack, even if I could get them up to full power, and we have no way to fight back. Their weapon mounts now sported advanced sensor arrays and observation domes.
Can we run? No. A
ny combat ship that would dare attack will be more than capable of outrunning us on conventional drives. What about slipstream? That might work. If we can spin up the Stream Drive we might, just might, be able to escape.
He skidded up to his main console. His crew was already at work, diverting power to the shields and tuning the communication/scanning lasers to try to use them as weapons. “Status report!”
“We’ve taken two hits,” said the engineer at the console next to him. “The first took out the forward apartment decks. Damage control and rescue teams have sealed the breaches. The second one went off below the lower long-range sensors. We’re half blind.”
“Do we have confirmation on who hit us?”
“No. They came in passive and we didn’t get a solid read on them as they came off-stream.”
“Spin up the Stream Drive.”
“Sir?” Jorden’s second asked with a confused look on his face.
“Spin up the Stream Drive. Surround us with the dark fluid and any hits we take will just serve to knock us out of here. If any of you have a better idea, let’s hear it now.”
No one answered and the two Stream Drive technicians raced to their consoles to begin powering up the hyperspace bubble. The ship’s system was old and the bubble wasn’t fully restored from when they’d streamed into orbit hects earlier. Jorden watched the first technician. The man looked at his partner, who shrugged his shoulders. They weren’t sure if the depleted drive would be strong enough to attract the local dark fluid around them. It was the best option they had and the techs followed their orders, dumping power into the system.
Another torpedo strike rocked the ship and forced Jorden away from his console. Reeling from the impact, he fought to stay on his feet. He had to inform the bridge of his plan, but as he reached his console, a new emergency greeted him. The status lights of the lower engine nacelle, the one he’d just been serving, had gone dark.
“Seal the access tunnels to the nacelles!” he ordered. It was already too late and he knew it as he slammed his hand down on the emergency override to seal off engineering from the rest of the ship. The indicators told him all he needed to know. The third torpedo must have driven itself deep into the engine before its delayed contact fuse detonated. The explosion shattered the massive Fusion Rocket’s Magnetic Driver Coils. Now star-hot plasma roared free of its Fusion Containment Bottles. Most vented into space, but a torrent of plasma rushed up the connecting arm of the nacelle, flooding main engineering.
Jorden watched the plasma fires overtake main engineering an instant later. The crewmen inside the chamber disappeared ahead of him before the flames even reached their bodies, reducing them to their component molecules before they could react. In the instant before his death, he felt the flames fill the chamber, flash igniting his skin. Jorden’s final thoughts, before the pain kicked in, were the hope that the automatic overrides would kick in and shut off the fuel flow to the engine without them. That would save the rest of ship and his family. Thoughts of the latter filled his mind as darkness and peace settled in. When the flames disappeared a moment later, nothing remained of the ship’s beating heart but blackened metal, and there was no trace of its engineering crew.
UCSBS-Vaurnel, Passageway ME-14
Several frames forward of main engineering, Laresse Vaughnt felt her spirit darken as the flames overtook her husband’s area of the ship before the bulkheads ahead of her slammed shut. She couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. After the initial explosion, she had raced towards engineering from the botany labs to see what her husband could tell her. Even the pair of spirit orbs that accompanied her weren’t sure what had happened.
Laresse looked to the orbs for guidance. The pair had once been living members of the Vaurnel crew. All that they once were, their memories and essences, were contained within the faintly luminescent balls of quantum energy that floated next to her. Anulians, like Laresse, could, as could many other races, perceive these quantum consciousnesses. She looked at each of them in turn and commanded them to investigate. Their ethereal forms were unaffected by physical barriers, making them ideal messengers and diagnostic aids.
Laresse steadied herself against the wall as she waited for the orbs to return, unsure how to proceed. A moment later, the lights around her went out, replaced by emergency glow panels. They’re all dead then; they’ll find no one left alive.
Panic gripped as a thought came to here, the children! In her haste to go to her husband and find out what had happened she hadn’t considered them. Were they safe, did they go to the shelter? She didn’t waste another pulse. Turning around, she made her way to the shelter. She had to get there to protect her children. They would know to go there, if they survived. She cast that thought aside; they had to be alive.
Feelings of darkness and despair washed over Laresse when the orbs returned. The images they sent to her mind showed nothing but a blackened compartment beyond the bulkheads. The perception barrier between the quantum spirits and the living limited their ability to communicate.
She winced at the imagery then froze in her tracks. Transparent hominid forms that reminded her of ghosts began to pass through the wall in front of her. Laresse stared in fascinated terror at the shapes. She was no medium. She had never seen spirits in any form other than orbs.
A part of her immediately hoped that one of the spirit forms might be that of her husband. At the same time, she wanted his spirit free, dispersed throughout the universe, not trapped like these poor souls.
Before she could even say a silent prayer to release the trapped spirits, the forms came to a stop in the middle of the passageway. Each man tapped a stud on his chest deactivating his individual phase armor and, one by one, they slipped fully back into phase. Laresse would have preferred ghosts or even demons to what stood before her.
Laresse could feel the malice radiating from the five Galactic Federation Shock Troops as their Pharad-designed quantum phase armor returned them to normal phase. Their weapons drawn and at the ready, they crowded the passage in their studded, jet-black armor, more fearsome then any ethereal form.
The leader flexed his hand as he faced away from her. The rank marked on his shoulder, clear to her. Double-checking that you didn’t leave any bits of yourself behind in the hull? The phase armor they wore did not always work as advertised and often left the users mutilated if it didn’t kill them outright
A howl of pain drew Laresse’s attention, and she looked down. One of the troopers rematerialized with his feet submerged in the deck. She took a horrified step back as the man keeled over, clutching at his head. Blood disgorged from his mouth, ears, and nose before pouring out of the release ports in his otherwise featureless mask.
The team leader just shook his head. The man was just another casualty of the dangerous phase-boarding process used by the Galactic Federation’s Shock Troopers. Like the rest of his team, he was one of the Galactic Federation’s worst convicts. Promises of parole and a full pardon convinced many convicts to do the most dangerous of duties. They ignored their comrade as he slumped over, dead.
Laresse looked for a place to run as the team turned its attention towards the mission at hand. She found none. Shock Troops were the enforcers of the Galactic Federation, crushing resistance on any captured world they conquered. Their primary mission was simple. They were to secure the Confederation’s jump codes by any means necessary.
Laresse’s blood froze. She had no way to escape except past the wall of men. Unarmed, she did the only thing she could and ran, crying out for help as she raced past them. Before she could take even three steps, hypervelocity metal slugs exploded from the soldier’s rifles.
She fell under the barrage, her blood smearing the wall when she clutched at it for support. Another blast sheared off her leg at the knee. Tumbling to the deck, she landed on her back with a spine-jarring smack. Her vision blurred by her collision with the hard metal plating, she forced her eyes open, hoping to find help and rescue. Instead, the barrel o
f a gun crowded her view.
She screamed out in pain as the two spirit orbs sped between her and the hollering trooper. They flared at him and she felt them protest against the attack before they attempted to manifest between her and the trooper. The Shock Trooper did not see them. He was incapable of seeing them.
Her body swimming in pain, she attempted to scoot away. The remnant of her leg slapped against the floor without effect before the Shock Trooper kicked her back to the deck. Laresse’s vision blurred. Blood loss began to take hold. She had only moments left. She closed her eyes and the Shock Trooper yelled incomprehensible nonsense at her, pressing one boot into her injured leg. She couldn’t understand a word he said through his fearsome helmet. She struggled to get away and grabbed hold of his boot to attempt to dislodge it.
Her thoughts went back to her children during her struggle. Her gaze focused on the spirit orbs. She mouthed for them to get away to safety. Able to read the language centers of her mind, the orbs flashed their consent and, after a moment’s hesitation, raced away.
Laresse turned her eyes back on her attacker as he stood over her and felt sure that she heard a dark chuckle escape his helmet. He held his weapon pointed at her head, never wavering. He screamed and dug the toe of his boot into her open thigh again. The pain ripped through her.
She knew she would not survive to save her children, but she would do her duty. Every spacer a rifleman, the old saying echoed through her mind. “I’ll see that you end up in the deepest pit of Sheol!” she hissed wrapping her hand around the handle of the boot knife she just worked loose from her attacker’s calf. She plunged the blade deep into his thigh a mere instant before he pulled the trigger.
UCSBS-Vaurnel, Command Bridge
Admiral Sadrick sat in his command chair, attempting to wrap his brain around the situation. The bridge of the Vaurnel was in a state of near chaos; reports of failing systems poured in from all over the ship. This was supposed to have been a peaceful cruise, one last voyage for the old war hero and his ship. Now they were fighting for their survival. The Admiral watched the magnified image on the viewscreen as a new type of Galactic Federation Strike Cruiser, its name plastered across its bow, came into view, the GFS Caleb. Flashes lit up the Caleb’s cannons and the Vaurnel shuddered an instant later as the plasma rounds crossed the gulf between the two.
