by Jay Falconer
“There isn’t time. Best speed to Neethian-3,” Kleezebee said. “Bring the forward plasma cannons online.”
It wasn’t long before the main viewer showed a blue-and-white planet growing larger by the second.
“Approaching Neethian-3, sir,” Heller said.
“Standard orbit, Mr. Heller.”
“Captain, I’m not picking up any other vessels in the area,” Nellis reported.
“Cancel tactical alert, but keep the shields up,” Kleezebee commanded. “Open a channel.”
“Open, sir,” Blake replied.
“Colony Three-Five-Nine, this is Captain Kleezebee of the science vessel Trinity. We received your distress call and are standing by in orbit to assist.”
The bridge crew waited for a response, none came.
Kleezebee repeated his hail a second time. Once again, there was no response from the colony.
“Bio-signs?” Kleezebee asked Nellis.
“Scanning, sir . . . none detected.”
“Scan the surface for trace signatures.”
“No plant or animal life . . . no vegetation . . . no structures detected anywhere on the planet.”
“Could our sensors be malfunctioning?”
“Running a Level One diagnostic,” she said. “Sensors are working perfectly.”
“What about atmospheric interference?”
She shook her head.
“Perhaps we should send a landing party to investigate?” Bruno asked.
“Surface conditions?” Kleezebee asked Nellis.
“Radiation and temperature are within acceptable levels. The atmosphere is . . . breathable.”
“Assemble a team,” Kleezebee told Bruno.
Bruno hurried to the jump pad. “Lieutenant Nellis, you’re with me. Mr. Blake, have Dr. McKnight and a security detail meet us in Jump Bay Two.”
Bruno stopped in Outfitting on his way to the jump bay, changing out of his uniform and into his desert fatigues. He was looking forward to the Trinity’s first official away mission, something a science vessel rarely had the opportunity to do.
Bruno transported down to the surface with six other members of the crew, and found himself standing in the middle of a vast, barren wasteland, which stretched off as far as he could see in all directions. The planet’s surface was charcoal black, as if it had been scorched by something.
The four security officers fanned out and stood guard around the landing site, with their backs to Bruno, Dr. McKnight, and Lt. Nellis.
“Are we in the right place?” the elderly Dr. McKnight asked, repositioning his medical satchel over his right shoulder.
“We’re standing in what should be the center of the settlement,” Nellis said.
“I thought the colony was surrounded by a mountain range.”
“It was.”
“There goes the neighborhood,” McKnight said.
Bruno knelt down to scoop up a sample of the black film covering the entire area. He rubbed the powdery substance between his fingers. “What is this stuff?”
Nellis tested a sample with her handheld M-Spec scanner. “I’m not detecting any organic or chemical compounds whatsoever. It’s as if this powder isn’t there.”
Bruno raised his fingers to his nose. “Smells like citrus. How is that possible?”
“Unknown, sir,” she replied, putting a sample of the material into a travel container.
“Scan the area for life signs.”
She adjusted her scanner’s settings, then held the device up while slowly turning in a circle. “Other than the seven of us, there’s nothing organic within a two-hundred-kilometer radius.”
“Nothing?” McKnight asked.
She shook her head. “I’m not reading any plant or animal life.”
“What about chemical signatures?” Bruno asked.
“None, sir.”
“Could something natural have caused this?”
“Unlikely. There would be some form of trace evidence.”
“Then it must be some type of attack.”
“It’s possible; however, I’m not detecting any residual power signatures or elevated radiation.”
“Do you suspect the bugs?” McKnight asked Bruno. “We’re practically in their backyard.”
“If it’s the Krellian Empire, they’re back with some new type of weapon we haven’t seen before. Something capable of leveling entire planets, topography and all.”
“I knew I should have packed more than one gallon of Extermin8,” McKnight said.
“We should report this to the captain,” Nellis said.
Bruno nodded, activating the communications device on his wrist. “Bruno to Trinity.”
“Go ahead,” Kleezebee replied.
“Sir, there’s no sign of the colony and our scans have been indeterminate. There’s some type of black film covering the entire area, but nothing else remains. We suspect it might be some type of Krellian attack.”
“Collect your team and return to the ship.”
“Aye, sir.”
* * *
After transporting back to the ship, Bruno changed into his uniform before returning to his post on the bridge. When he stepped off the jump pad, he wished he had arrived a minute sooner.
“Shields at maximum. Weapons hot,” Nellis reported.
“Stay alert, people,” Kleezebee said, looking over his shoulder at Bruno. Kleezebee’s eyes told Bruno to take his position at the tactical station.
“Mr. Blake, send a data burst to Fleet with today’s mission log,” Kleezebee said.
“Aye, Captain.”
“I’m picking up a buildup in tachyon particles, two hundred thousand meters off the port bow,” Nellis reported.
“On viewer.”
The screen changed to show a patch of stars vacillating, as if they were being viewed through the bottom of a glass boat. Moments later, the same area of space began to change, fading in an enormous hive ship, at least a thousand times the size of the Trinity. It looked like a giant green honeycomb with hundreds of identical octagon cells, each roughly the size of the Trinity. A web of yellow energy connected the eight sides of each cell with its neighbor.
“Sir, that’s a Krellian destroyer, and she’s on an intercept course,” Nellis said.
“Hail them,” Kleezebee said.
“No response, sir,” Blake said.
The Krellian ship splintered into dozens of smaller cell groupings, spreading out and flanking the Trinity as they approached.
“Captain, someone’s tapped into our main computer . . . they’re accessing our data core,” Nellis said.
“Can you shut them out?”
“Attempting to isolate the core and encrypt the network interface—“ Nellis said. “Got it!”
“How much did they get?”
“A hundred percent of the medical and historical databases, but it looks like we stopped them before they downloaded our tactical and scientific data banks.”
“They’re charging weapons!” Bruno reported, activating the tactical alert siren from his console.
“Which one?” Kleezebee asked.
“All of them, sir.”
“Evasive maneuvers!”
The enemy ships opened fire, sending a barrage of blue energy bursts streaming at the left side of Trinity’s bow. The ship rocked hard to starboard.
“Minor damage on Deck Twelve. Shields down to sixty-two percent,” Nellis said. “Looks like they’re targeting engineering.”
“Return fire, full spread.”
The forward battery of plasma cannons discharged, sending a torrent of energy pulses at the advancing enemy ships, striking several of them center mass.
“Multiple hits,” Bruno said.
“Minor fluctuation in their power grids, but no detectable damage, sir,” Nellis said.
The Krellian swarm fired a second volley, hammering the Trinity with even more force than before. Blake’s communication console erupted into fire, searing his left hand an
d wrist. He screamed in pain.
“Medical team to the bridge,” Kleezebee shouted.
“Sick bay’s not responding, sir,” Nellis replied.
Several more salvos hit the ship, each time jolting the ship farther off course.
“Shields down to twenty-seven percent. Bulkheads buckling on Deck Twelve, Section Four,” Nellis shouted.
“Remodulate shields, continuing firing all batteries,” Kleezebee said. “Attack pattern omega.”
Bruno fired the forward and port cannons. “Direct hits, sir.”
“Enemy shields still at maximum,” Nellis said.
The ship’s communication system came on. “Engineering to the captain. We’re close to losing containment down here. The reactor’s nearing critical.”
“Captain, we have no choice but to withdraw,” Bruno said. “We can’t take any more of this pounding.”
The ship was hit again, and again. Kleezebee sat motionless in his command chair.
“Captain!” Bruno shouted, trying to get his boss to act.
“Mr. Heller, hard to starboard,” Kleezebee said. “Lieutenant Nellis, activate the rift projector.”
“But sir, it hasn’t been fully tested,” she replied.
“We don’t have a choice. Energize it now, while we still have the power. Set destination coordinates for Earth.”
“Aye, sir,” Nellis replied, furiously entering commands into her station’s console. “Projector charged and online.”
“Coordinates set for Sector zero-zero-zero,” Heller said.
A vertical rift began to form directly in front of the ship, resembling a crumpled white envelope being opened lengthwise in space, growing wider with each passing second. The beams of light flooding through from the other side were almost blinding.
“Take us in,” Kleezebee shouted, just as the Krellians hit them with another onslaught. The bridge crew stumbled to the right, like crab fishermen battling a rising swell.
“Hull breach on Deck Seven, venting atmosphere,” Nellis said.
“Entering rift,” Heller reported.
The Trinity was walloped again.
“Shields are down,” Nellis said.
“Maintain course and speed,” Kleezebee said.
“Captain, we’ve been boarded,” Nellis said.
“Location?”
“Deck Twelve, Engineering.”
“They must be after our E-121 supply,” Bruno replied.
“Dispatch security teams.”
The Krellians fired again, missing the ship, but bombarding the rift’s event horizon with blue energy.
“Their weapons are overloading the rift . . . it’s destabilizing,” Nellis said, right before an electrical discharge arced across the bridge between the active duty stations, knocking her, Blake, and the helmsman to the deck.
The bolt continued through Kleezebee’s torso and pierced Bruno’s neck, completing its circuit by connecting to the power supply installed under the base of the jump pad. Kleezebee lost consciousness.
Chapter 25
Relics
Kleezebee woke up slumped over in the captain’s chair with the right side of his face being showered by salt water pouring through a rupture in the bulkhead above the bridge. A salmon-sized fish smacked his cheek before glancing off his thigh and sliding across the deck plating into a pool of water near the communication officer’s station.
The only equipment active on the bridge was the emergency lighting system; everything else appeared to be offline, including the main viewer, which was hanging off the wall, slanted to the left. He could no longer feel the judder of the pulse drive engines through the floor, meaning they were running on battery reserves.
Bruno was sitting to his right but moving sluggishly. The rest of the bridge crew lay motionless near their duty stations.
“We need to evacuate the ship,” Kleezebee said, helping Bruno off the deck.
“Do you think we made it home, Skipper?”
“We’ll soon find out.”
Nellis was to Kleezebee’s right, on the other side of Bruno, lying on her back with her legs twisted to one side. Her chest was expanding and contracting. “See if you can revive the lieutenant.”
Bruno nodded.
Kleezebee sidestepped his way around debris to the other side of bridge where he found Blake lying on his left side with his feet submerged in the water accumulating around his station. He slid Blake’s body uphill, dragging it away from the rising water level. He checked Blake’s vitals, finding a pulse, but it was accelerated, possibly due to the burn injuries sustained earlier. He shook his communications officer, then rapped him on the cheek. Blake finally opened his eyes.
“Easy does it, Chuck; you took a pretty good jolt. How do you feel?”
“The pain’s manageable, sir. I’ll be all right,” Blake replied, holding up his burned arm as Kleezebee helped him up.
“Sound the emergency evacuation alarm. We need to get everyone off the ship.”
“Aye, Captain,” Blake replied.
The general alarm sounded with Stella’s computer voice telling the crew to abandon ship.
Heller was face down with his head and left shoulder lying under a toppled station chair. Kleezebee uncovered his helmsman and rolled him over on his back, only to find that Heller’s face had been badly disfigured from the electrical burns. “Dave, can you hear me?”
There was no response. He checked Heller’s vitals— no pulse, no respiration.
He tilted Heller’s head back, pinched his nose and covered the officer’s mouth with his own. He blew twice into Heller’s mouth, but his chest didn’t expand. He put his hands on Heller’s sternum, rapidly pushing down thirty times in succession, before blowing air into Heller’s mouth again.
“Bruno, find Dr. McKnight. Dave’s non-responsive,” Kleezebee said, continuing CPR on Heller.
“I’ll go,” Nellis said. Bruno had revived her. She ran past the powerless jump pad, opened the emergency hatch, and climbed down the exit ladder to Deck Two.
“Is there anything I can do?” Blake asked.
“Both of you, grab what you can and get to the escape pods. I’ll meet you on the surface,” Kleezebee said, continuing CPR on Heller.
“Captain, I should remain here with you,” Bruno replied.
“No, you need to go. That’s an order, Commander. Make sure Chuck gets off the ship safely.”
Bruno nodded, helping Blake to one of three escape pods along the rear wall of the bridge. He pressed a red, flush-mounted switch on the wall to the right of the pod, raising its hatch. Blake took a seat and Bruno strapped him in.
The egg-shaped pod was just big enough to accommodate two adult passengers and a seven-day supply of battery power, air, vegetarian ration packs, and water. Each pod was equipped with an on-board navigation system, short-range communications, two EVA spacesuits and a portable toilet that the crew affectionately called a bumper-dumper. There were no weapons.
Bruno turned around, unlocked the cabinet below his weapons station, and retrieved all three stun guns plus the four extra energy cells. “These might come in handy,” he said, handing the energy weapons to the injured Blake. He hurried over to the science station, opened a sliding panel door, and pulled out the removable data drive before returning to the pod. He handed the data core to Blake. “Keep this safe. As soon as I close the hatch, press the green button to eject the pod.”
“What about you?” Blake asked, looking at the open seat next to him.
“I’ll take the next one,” Bruno said. “When you reach the surface, use the nav-system to locate the nearest shoreline.”
“Then what?”
“Use the pod’s thruster assembly as a boat motor. Just be sure to sample the atmosphere before popping the hatch.”
“How will I find the others?”
“Hone in on the emergency beacons. They activate automatically as soon as a pod is launched. Now go,” Bruno said, lowering the hatch until it latched into plac
e. Moments later, he heard the pod eject.
“I thought I told you to evacuate,” Kleezebee said, dragging Heller’s body away from the rising water.
“I know, sir, but you’re going to need my help with Heller.”
“Did someone call a doctor?” McKnight asked, climbing out of the emergency hatch, carrying a med-kit.
“Good to see you made it, Doc,” Bruno said.
“Damn, I should have brought my swim trunks,” McKnight said on his way to Kleezebee, high-stepping through a portion of the water filling up the left side of the bridge. “What do we have here?”
“He was hit by an energy discharge from his station. I’ve been administering CPR, but he’s been unresponsive for about five minutes.”
McKnight held up his flashing medical scanner, passing it over Heller’s chest and head several times.
“I’m not detecting any brain activity and his lungs have been thermalized. I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do for him. He’s gone, DL,” McKnight said, after scanning Heller’s chest.
Kleezebee squeezed Heller’s hand gently, then bent down close to his ear. “Goodbye, cousin,” he whispered, thinking of all the times they’d played Ultimate Rummy together in his quarters. “And just so you know, I never once let you win a hand.”
“Captain, we’re running out of time,” Bruno said, seeing the water level rising dangerously close to their position.
“Where’s Lieutenant Nellis?” Kleezebee asked.
“She’s helping evacuate the crew on the lower levels,” McKnight said. “We’re taking on water all over the ship.”
“All right, then, to the escape pods. Let’s hope the bugs in engineering can’t swim.”
* * *
Kleezebee felt the bottom of the escape pod scrape along the ocean floor, right before the capsule leaned forward and came to a dead stop. He opened the hatch, feeling the blistering rays of sunshine on his face. A hand appeared through the open hatch from the outside.
“Good to see you, Captain,” Bruno said, helping him out of the pod.
Kleezebee was standing on a rocky beach in the middle of a makeshift camp. Stacked up around the site were corrugated containers, dozens of ration packs and water containers, two bumper-dumpers, one quart-sized glass container filled with the gooey nebula substance, and a portable communication unit. “How many made it out safely?”
