He’d rather increase the rotations of his bridge’s duty crew, than have the crew getting comfortable in the luxurious seats provided. For that reason he never sat while on duty at his bridge. No matter how much his feet ached these days.
To Hannibal’s annoyance, his XO took to the Captain’s seat like a patient leopard watching its prey from an overhanging branch of a tree. Hannibal ignored this for the moment and allowed his Interactive Reality lens to feed him information on the crew’s vitals.
On the second tier below him the comms officer Taka Mori stood at his station. Mori was fluent in twenty seven current Earth languages, fifteen dead languages and the prime three galactic languages of Ursu, Lupos and Vanguard. All, despite wearing a surgically implanted ear bud containing the fleet’s mandatory universal speech translator.
Hannibal smiled to himself as he viewed Mori’s long list of inaccuracies relating to the UST scrolled across his own IRL. There was nothing quite like having a comms officer who knew the difference between the almost identical Lupos phrases for ‘Eat my stinking garbage you bin licker,’ and ‘We come in peace’. Apparently, it was all in the guttural inflexion that the UST failed to grasp. Hannibal forwarded the report to Fleet HQ with a recommendation for an honorable citation for Mori.
Mori’s personal psych report flashed up before Hannibal’s eyes. It indicated Mori had enveloped himself in his linguistics career. A way to cope with the loss of his entire family when the Lupos destroyed half of Japan’s islands.
He supposed an honorable citation wouldn’t make up for the loss, but it would at least help Taka Mori remain a strategic asset. His vital signs as indicated on the virtual health monitors were within acceptable levels.
Hannibal glanced at his Engineering department liaison officer, Harley Link, who stood next to Taki Mori at their stations. His last personnel report read almost identical to Mori’s in terms of personal loss and motivation. He was key to developing the Gravity Core’s effectiveness to within 0.001 percent of actual Earth gravity. Currently engaged to marry Chief Ffion Gonzalez. Hannibal smiled to himself as he imagined the long hours developing gravity, also brought them into a close and permanent orbit together.
Below them, the pilot, Tess Child stood at her station. She was of English descent. Tall, attractive, with an arrogant bearing. Hannibal glanced over her personnel file. She possessed an uncanny ability to fly anything, anywhere, anyhow. Her psych report mentioned she was an adrenalin junkie with a locked incident report in her personnel file. Hannibal fired off a quick Q-NET mail to Admiral Finnean:
I need to know everything about my crew! Please unlock! Grint.
Adjacent to the pilot stood navigator, Bo Sun. Graduated Fleet Academy top of his class in space navigation. Usually a fast track to command, but this had been denied to Bo Sun. Again, just like with pilot Tess Child, there was an encrypted file in his personnel report.
His stomach backflipped. What in hell is Admiralty keeping secret from me?
Hannibal’s motto was: ‘believe in coincidences once, and you won’t live long enough to believe in them twice’. This was beginning to feel like some sort of Admiralty stitch up. Or even a conspiracy.
Hannibal resisted voicing his more colorful concerns in a Q-NET mail and simply attached the encrypted file to Finnean with a terse: Please make available!
Finally, Hannibal noted Bo Sun’s blood pressure levels were more than a little above recommended limits. He sent a Q-NET mail to Doc: Take a look at this, Grint.
Hannibal turned his attention to weapon specialist Wesley Jackson. He stood next to Bo Sun at his own station. A large, athletic man, apparently adept at a dozen martial arts, including the much revered and feared Lupos martial art Jugulo. Hannibal immediately admired a man who took the mantra, ‘know thy enemy’, to such extremes.
A calm and measured personality under fire was vital and Hannibal felt relieved to view Jackson’s psych report gave him an A-1 rating. Until, he noticed yet again, an encrypted file on Jackson’s personnel report.
Hannibal’s blood pressure monitor spiked across his IR lens. He attached Jackson’s locked file to a Q-NET mail and fired it off to Finnean with a blunt note: What in hell are you playing at?
It occurred to Hannibal there might be other key personnel with similarly encrypted files on their reports that he couldn’t access. He glanced at his XO. Dax’s personnel report popped up as a menu option across Hannibal’s IR lens. He selected Dax’s personnel file and quickly scanned it. There it is! Another damn encrypted file and no access to it.
Hannibal sent one final Q-NET mail to Admiral Finnean: We need to talk!
Hannibal fought to regain his composure. He rolled his neck and the crack visibly startled the sentry stood next to him. The marine shifted uncomfortably.
Hannibal had enough time to conclude that by preferring to stand as their new XO sat, it seemed his crew’s new XO’s command and influence was surface deep only. In other words, they didn’t fully trust his presence amongst them, either.
So perhaps my paranoia is catching? Or my crew are just astute judges of character. Or maybe they’d just rather avoid conflict from Firestorm Grint?
Below them, the vast three dimensional holographic ‘screen’ that indicated a three sixty degree view of space around Valiant. It showed in real-time a vast conical warp bubble contracting spacetime ahead of Valiant. The bubble fractured into the many separate frequencies of light, causing a rainbow effect.
This flowed over Valiant as the drag or wash of the bubble enveloped the stern and port sides. When the bubble reached the bow of the ship, it expanded spacetime back to normal.
It felt claustrophobic to Hannibal and he began to sweat. He clenched his fists tight and reminded himself the crew were safely shielded from the warp bubble’s undesired effects on human physiology. But Hannibal couldn’t shut out the horror stories told of the first human scientific team to successfully develop engines for interstellar travel.
How those poor souls, considered heroes, worked without adequate shielding and were exposed to untold forces. Turned into warp-ghosts. Their bodies and minds caught up in the contracting warp bubble field. Hurled across space and time by the contracting and expanding fluctuations.
Reappearing before family and friends. Sometimes far back in the past. Other times, in their futures.
Many were damned as warp-ghosts. Permanently lost on the spacetime continuum. Destined to aimlessly wander time and space. Reappearing for seconds, minutes, and sometimes days in normal spacetime. Only to be snatched away and hurled into what was later coined as the warp-void.
The lucky ones experienced it as a temporary phenomenon and officially certified as recovered and fit for duty. But the suicide rates amongst the survivors sky-rocketed.
Some disappeared. Abandoning family and friends. Changing their identities. Media reports called it the ‘warp-calling’.
Scientists, test pilots and crew experienced fundamental philosophical changes. People of sound minds abandoning their old lives for a supposedly higher calling, known only to them. Often without explanation for loved ones, or even, Hannibal suspected, to themselves.
Now, of course, all interstellar craft had substantial warp-field shielding. But he was less certain of its complete effectiveness. He had read confidential fleet reports on the warp-ghosts. Studies on the inherent effects on children of ‘warp-ghosts’ conceived after the initial disasters.
From a personal perspective, even if there was only a theoretical chance of momentary warp-ghosting occurring during routine interstellar travel, he wanted to be on the bridge to witness it.
In the darkest parts of his heart, he knew if faced with the choice of remaining here on his bridge to guide his crew, or taking a chance as a warp-ghost, he would be torn in two. If it meant he could see, touch, smell and speak with his wife for only a few minutes... he dreaded to think what choice he would make.
He told himself everything seemed in order, but the concept of faster
than light travel pictured engulfing his ship in such three dimensional detail, unnerved him. The prospect of being able to view in minute detail every spacetime fluctuation, anomaly and irregularity felt like too much information. Sometimes, he preferred not to be quite so well informed.
The sentries next to him appeared restless. “Captain on bridge,” one of the sentries shouted.
Damn it!
Zen ignored his captain and stared ahead at the screen. Keeping his eyes on the prize.
Navigator Bo Sun leapt to his feet and saluted. He cleared his throat heavily and hissed under his breath to pilot Tess Child. She ignored him and remained at her pilot wheel.
She studied the large screen directly ahead and referred to her instruments panels. Accelerating Valiant into the first outer ring.
“As you were,” Hannibal said. He turned to Dax.
“Got a visual on the Ursu, XO?”
He’s directly ahead, Captain.”
“Condition of Janus?”
“Dust particles,” Dax said. “Nothing to prevent a strong tractor beam lock.”
“I’ll take it from here, XO.”
“Very good, Captain.”
“Listen up, people,” Hannibal said in a strong, clear voice. “We need to stop this gun runner for the sake of galactic peace. I expect a smooth take down. Navigator, commence countdown to exist Janus.”
“Countdown to exit in ten...”
Hannibal focused on the main screen. A large three dimensional holographic image of moving target sights inched towards the Ursu ship.
“Nine...”
The Ursu ship’s pilot erratically maneuvered the vessel side to side.
“Keep her steady, Pilot,” Wesley said and gripped his joystick with both hands.
“Eight...”
Hannibal scratched his beard. He glanced at his XO. “Ursu pilot is good, XO,” Hannibal said. “Got a plan B up your sleeve?”
“Seven...”
“Not one you’ll like, Captain.”
“Six...”
An energy bolt flashed at them from the Ursu ship and the main screen dimmed to compensate.
“Captain, the Ursu ship is firing on us,” Bo Sun said with an unconstrained tone of panic in his voice.
“I gathered that much,” Hannibal said.
“Shields maintaining at ninety four percent,” Zen said in his usual flat tone.
“Countdown?” Hannibal demanded.
Bo Sun struggled to focus on his instrument panel. “Three seconds until target enters ‘G’ ring...”
“Gunner, it’s now or never,” Hannibal said.
“One more second,” Wesley said calmly. “Just keep her steady.”
A wide spread of flashes burst out of the Ursu ship.
“Two... One...”
“Tractor beam deployed,” Wesley shouted.
Valiant rocked violently from side to side.
The target sights veered off to one side.
“Damn it,” Wesley said and suddenly let go of his joystick. “Sorry, Captain. Target has entered ‘G’ ring.”
The Ursu ship sped away.
“Can we get alongside and harpoon the Ursu?” Hannibal asked.
“This Ursu pilot’s suicidal, Captain,” Tess said. “Permission to reduce speed?”
Hannibal sighed.
“Shields taking a battering from debris, Captain,” Dax said. “Dropping to sixty three percent.”
“Reduce speed,” Hannibal said.
“Decelerating, Captain,” Pilot Tess Child said and cautiously weaved Valiant around the millions of blocks of ice drifting along the first ring of Saturn.
Hannibal turned to Dax. “Tell me about this plan B I’m not going to like.”
“There’s no time to explain, Captain,” Zen said. “You need to trust me.”
Hannibal felt his knuckles tighten as his hands balled into fists. Trust my XO?
The entire bridge crew looked across at him.
Sooner, or later it had to come down to trust.
Hannibal sighed.
“Very well, XO,” Hannibal whispered, “but you’re on a tight leash.”
Dax nodded.
“Gunner,” Dax said loud and clear, “bring about main cannons ten through twenty. Lock on target. Await my order.”
“Aye, commander,” Wesley said.
Hannibal caught his gunner share a subtle look of bemusement with Bo Sun and Tess.
What are you up to, Dax?
“First you want them alive for interrogation,” Hannibal said. “Now you intend to obliterate them?”
“That’s what we want the Ursu to think, Captain,” Dax said.
“Cannons on target, Commander,” Wesley said. “Powering up. Thirty seconds.”
Dax turned to Hannibal.
“I figure their external scans will detect they’ve been targeted,” Dax said. “Then we’ll see just how clever this Ursu captain really is.”
“Captain,” Bo Sun shouted and whipped around in his seat. “The Ursu ship, she’s heading directly at us.”
“What?” said Hannibal.
“Look,” Bo Sun shouted and pointed at the holographic main screen. “She’s going to hit us.”
“I told you their pilot is suicidal,” Tess shouted. “She’s aiming right at the bridge.”
“Evasive maneuvers, pilot,” Dax said.
Bo Sun threw up his arms, “Too late.”
“Impact positions,” Hannibal shouted.
CHAPTER 22 - DARK HALO
Hannibal held his breath. He picked himself off the floor. The bridge seemed to have avoided the collision.
“Damage report,” Hannibal growled.
“No incoming reports,” the comms officer said.
“Makes no sense, Captain,” Bo Sun said. “The Ursu ship should have wiped out the bridge.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Dax said.
Hannibal turned toward Dax as his XO sprinted to the exit.
“XO, where in hell are you going?”
“Trust me, Captain.”
The elevator doors slid shut behind Dax. He tapped his chest insignia comms.
“Captain Argyle Valkyrie, report mission ready in ten minutes with your best company. Launch bay five.”
“Commander, is this a drill?” Valkyrie’s voice whispered with a suppressed yawn in his inner ear bud comms.
“No drill.”
“Specialist units, Commander?”
“Dark Halo. Dax, out.”
Ten minutes later Dax clutched a nano-armor ring and sprinted into Launch bay five. He spotted a bio luminescent green glow emanate from a hundred space marines as their halo suits powered up. Valkyrie saluted him.
“Commander, your orders?” she asked.
“One moment,” Dax said and contacted the bridge Comms officer. “Release all garbage immediately. Confirm.”
“Releasing all garbage, Commander,” said Taka Mori. “Captain would like a word, XO.”
“Dax, out.”
He turned to Valkyrie as she shot him a look.
“What’s going on, Commander?” she asked and her company fell silent. He felt all eyes on him.
“Full dark halo jump on a gun runners’s ship.”
Her eyes popped wide. She swallowed hard and glanced at Sergeant Van Cleef. She beckoned him over.
Dax stared at Valkyrie’s vacant expression. “Are you with me on this, Valkyrie?”
“Ship to ship can be done,” Van Cleef said. “But the devil’s in the details.”
Valkyrie snapped herself out of her shock.
“Can we expect synchronized ship to ship velocity?” Valkyrie asked.
Dax felt relief that her head was back in the game.
“I should hope so,” Dax said. “For the next few minutes the Gun runner’s ship is stationary.”
“That’s impossible,” Valkyrie said, “unless it’s docked with us and no way would we--”
“Exactly,” Dax said. “Gun runner’s ship is i
llegally moored to the bridge’s blindside.”
“Their Captain must be suicidal,” Valkyrie said. “And damn clever.”
“Too clever for their own good,” Dax said.
Valkyrie studied his eyes and slowly allowed a smile to escape her solemn face.
“You planned this all along, Commander?”
Dax shrugged. “I laid out the option. Call it a bear trap, if you like. The bear took the bait. Hiding in our blind spot was their only sensible solution to getting blasted into tiny fragments and destined to spending eternity orbiting Saturn’s rings.”
“Commander, I can’t believe the Captain would sanction this?”
“Are you in the habit of questioning direct orders?”
“No commander,” Valkyrie said, “but we’ve only ever done this maneuver in zero gravity combat simulator tanks.”
“Well, that’s more than me,” Dax said and fitted the power armor ring around one arm. He stood with both legs apart and with both arms stretched out to either side. He faced the shimmering force field of the launch bay’s gaping wide mouth.
The first ejections of Valiant’s garbage drifted out across the rings of Saturn. He hurriedly hit the glowing green button of the power armor ring.
Billions of tiny nano-bots hummed and began replicating themselves. Spreading up his arm, across his chest to his other arm and down his legs. In less than fifteen seconds he was covered up to his neck in the green luminescent glow of a trillion nano-bot sealed power armor.
Valkyrie and Van Cleef looked at Dax as if he was mad.
“You’re coming with us, Commander?” Van Cleef asked.
“I am, Sergeant.”
Van Cleef turned to the mumblings from marines stood behind him.
One marine stepped forward. He was young and angry. He glared at Dax. “You the officer who got my buddy killed?”
“Shut it, Private Thor,” Van Cleef barked in the ear of the marine and shoved him back in line.
“It’s OK, Sergeant,” Dax said. “Who was your buddy, marine?”
“Private Olsen,” Thor said. “Nick was my best friend.”
Dax sighed. “I’m sorry about Private Olsen,” Dax said. “All I can say is this mission is a first step to avenging Private Olsen’s death. Sound good to you, Private Thor?”
Valiant (Jurassic War Universe Book 1) Page 13
