"Rescuing survivors?"
"Could be, ma'am. If so, that would mean these are not robotic ships. There is someone aboard."
Michael nodded her agreement, then looked back at the main Surveillance display.
"Any evidence they've seen us?"
Dean shook his head. "No ma'am, nothing. We've been watching for a radar or a laser detector - anything that they might try to see us. We haven't seen a thing."
"There's always the possibility that they have some other method," Carol added, having snuck up on the conversation. Michael turned and looked at her.
"Like what?" she asked.
"Star occultation for starters, Commander. If they have a fine enough resolution deep field telescope, they could find us by the stars we block."
Dean nodded his agreement.
"Yes, that's part of why Fleet said to never be up-sun from the enemy. Don't give them a silhouette."
Michael shrugged. "Or," she said skeptically, "they could have a completely different technology we know nothing about."
"Or that, yes, ma'am," Dean responded.
Carol looked at Terri Michael. "Do you want to shoot again, Commander? I have an idea."
"What?"
"I think we should try detonating the Bludgeons further out, so we get a wider dispersal of the pellets and maybe more damage. The ships are just so big, we're not doing enough damage."
Michael considered the suggestion.
"OK, three this time and move the detonation point to whatever you think is best. We'll do a five-minute delay again."
She turned back to the Nav. "Get ready to maneuver again, Lieutenant Williams."
"Captain!" Ryan Lewis called out. "They're leaving ma'am, and fast."
The three ships not venting were clearly on the move and accelerating away from the attack point. The two left behind were also moving, less quickly and in another direction. Michael frowned.
"Tell me they're not deorbiting into the star."
Ryan waited a moment before answering.
"Yes, ma'am, that's our reading on it."
"Dammit!"
They watched as the still-venting ships began down a slow but steadily increasing path into the star. The star's heat would vaporize them within a few hours. Michael thought about chasing them down with Antares or smacking them with another volley, but they were already descending into the hellish fire of the star. Even this small red dwarf is plenty hot enough to destroy living tissue, so she decided to just watch. Any action she took now would reveal their presence, and she did not want to chance that. Even as crippled as they were, they might still have communications with the others and could call in trouble for Antares. No, she decided, let them fry on their own.
She turned to the Bridge crew.
"Ok, folks, secure from general quarters but set an enhanced watch on Surveillance. Hansen - let's reset to half Lances, half Spartans."
She walked back to the command position, still thinking.
"We're going to wait for the enemy to burn up before we try to look for the FDR. Meantime we'll hang right here nice and quiet. Conn - open the Bridge window covers."
Carol watched her techs complete the reload and secure the launchers. When that process was complete, she walked over to the Comm position.
"Anything more from Columbia?" she asked Miho Ito quietly.
Ito looked up and back over her shoulder and shook her head. Carol was worried about Dan, along with his shipmates, but no news was just no news and didn't really mean anything either way. It wasn't good or bad, it was just silence. Regardless, she hated it.
Antares
GJ 1061
Thursday. May 12, 2078, 0345 UTC
With the ship off battle stations, Carol had little to do but was loath to leave, so she curled up on the floor in the far-left corner of the Bridge, just behind the Weapons position. It was a common cat-nap spot for officers and crew when they were not on watch but wanted to be nearby. She was thinking about Dan, and Columbia, and hoping Miho Ito would have something soon.
She had met Commander Reynolds once, at Fleet HQ, and felt an immediate dislike for him. Her impression was that he wanted to be tough but came across as brittle, perhaps a bit petty, with a tendency to insult and belittle. It was a sharp contrast to what she had experienced under Carpenter and Michaels, both of who led by example, by consensus when possible, but always without any sense of force or edict.
She knew Columbia would run off to a safe point, likely not too far, evaluate their condition, then either retire or return to fight on. Either way, they should know in the next few hours, and she wanted to be on the Bridge when it happened.
Terri Michael noticed her there and ignored it, as she did most of these kinds of small violations by her young officers. Jayvon Dean was sacked out in the far-right corner, not far from the Surveillance station. They were there out of care and dedication, and in this case, a nap was hardly a case of sleeping on duty. But, it would not do for the Captain to be sleeping on the Bridge, so she called XO George to take over while she got some rest in her Duty Cabin. She pointed out the sleeping officers.
"Let 'em be, James. They'll be awake as soon as we hear from Columbia."
He looked at the peaceful, expressionless faces, first Dean then Hansen.
"Roger that. They look kinda young to me when they're asleep, you know?"
Terri smiled grimly. "They look kinda young when they're awake, too. Thank God they don't realize just how much they're risking out here."
"War has always been fought by the children, Commander, Hard to believe."
"Yes. OK, well, wake me if you need to. If Columbia comes back see what Reynolds has in mind."
"Yes, Captain will do."
James George noted their position, speed, and weapon status. He displayed the Surveillance video of the shrinking enemy ships on the main view screen. They could still see a steam trail from the venting hydrogen and oxygen gas, swirling away from the ships as they spiraled towards the star. Was there a crew on those ships, waiting for their fate? Or had they already killed themselves to avoid the wait and the pain? He wondered but reminded himself that he didn't really care. The knowledge might be useful to him, but he felt no sympathy for the enemy, only a tactician's curiosity about his opponent. He walked to the Surveillance station.
"Any sign of Otbara?" he asked.
"None, sir. We're watching for anything on the visual or IR that might indicate her, or her wreckage, but nothing so far."
"Can you tell what those ships were doing?"
"Intel was looking at that, sir, but we can't really say from here. We don't see anything in that area that looks like Otbara if that's what you were thinking."
George nodded. "Partially, yes."
He paused a minute and then headed back to the Conn position. He thought to call back into the Intel section and see what they were thinking but then took note of the hour and decided it could wait. It had been a long night for everyone.
Columbia
Deep Space Near GJ 1061
Thursday, May 12, 2078, 0400 UTC
Five hits, Dan thought, they hit us five goddamn times. There were four dead and ten wounded now in and around the small sick bay. One FPI engineer, two Weapons techs, and one kitchen tech were dead - all hit with pieces of shrapnel from the enemy missiles. Dan was carefully zipping a body bag around one of the weapons techs. Gwen Decker was a tiny, attractive twenty-something with a caramel alto voice that Dan would hear no more. He steeled himself as he and three others picked her up and placed her on a missile transport cart as gently as possible. They would use that to take her aft to the frozen storage compartment.
I hate these bastards he repeated to himself.
Medical Officer Gerry Knight was on his fourth surgery already, two of which had been futile, including the weapons tech Dan was loading. Six more patients were waiting, triaged for severity. There was a lot of blood and barely-suppressed moans of pain but no critical wounds. Between
surgeries Nurse Ensign Lewis Park worked his way around those waiting, checking vitals and temporary dressings. Medical techs Mai Kubota and Jerome Calhoun alternated between the operating room and helping those still in the queue.
Time was, before the war, a ship like Columbia would carry two medical techs, and that would be all. With the outbreak of the conflict, the likelihood of battle injuries changed a lot of minds at Fleet and by the time ships were heading out to find the enemy, their medical section included a qualified battlefield surgeon, a surgical nurse, and many times the supplies they had previously carried. Those decisions were saving lives today on Columbia.
The ship itself was in decent shape. They had around 15 individual compartments that were damaged. Several were now open to space, and it would take the maintenance department a few hours on each to seal them back up. The rest had minor leaks that the crew repaired with the patch kits that were by every hatch on the ship. The kit included an oxygen mask with a hose that linked into a ship-wide system, an aerosol powder to locate the leak, and thick rubber patches with an adhesive on one side. If a section was hit, one used the spray, watched where it went and then stuck a patch over the hole. It was a simple process, assuming they lived long enough to get the mask on. Columbia had also lost some of the thick stealth coating where the ship was damaged, but they would just have to live with that until they got to a repair station.
The captain had asked Dan to check on sickbay and give him an update. That was now over a half-hour ago. He now worked his way back forward and found the Captain in his duty cabin. He knocked and entered when called.
"What the hell took so long?" Reynolds demanded.
"They needed an extra hand for a few minutes, sir. I couldn't just walk back out."
"So, what is the status?"
"Four dead, a few more seriously wounded, several with minor wounds. Doc and the crew back there have it under control."
"Very well. That will be all."
It seemed an abrupt dismissal to Dan. No questions about the injured crew, just 'get out.' He closed the door behind him and walked the short distance to the Bridge. His fellow Navigator Ensign Stefania Tsikuda was standing the Conn. Dan climbed the three steps to the Conn station and sat down next to her. She turned from looking out the Bridge window to look at Dan.
"I felt the Drive go off - where are we?"
"About 30 AU from the star."
"Anything from Antares?"
"No, but I suspect they're lying low and waiting to see what happens with us."
"Hopefully they're finishing off whatever we left."
"Yeah, hopefully."
"Stef, are you all right?"
She looked away, then out the windows, then back at Dan.
"Gwen and I used to sing together..."
Her voice trailed off in pain and shock. Dan nodded, remembering their hangar-deck jam sessions, a favorite Saturday night diversion for the crew.
"Yes, I know, Stef, I'm-"
The sound of the ship phone ringing cut him off.
"Conn," she answered, her voice suddenly under control and textbook professional. As she listened, she wrote furiously on the command log in front of her.
"Yes, Captain, right away." she finished and looked back at Dan, her eyes now clear and alert even as tears were drying at their edges.
"We're going back. I need a course back to where we left."
Dan nodded and headed for the Nav workstation. She stood and faced the Weaps station to her left.
"Weaps - give me a load of half Spartans and half Bludgeons."
Then, she addressed the Bridge in general.
"We're going back as soon as Nav has the course in. We will need a double watch when we come out of FTL back at GJ 1061. You have not more than an hour, so get on it."
That last sounded to Dan like a direct quote from the Captain. He wondered if Stef even realized what she had said. It didn't take long to put in the course back to the vicinity of GJ 1061, and they were on their way in a few minutes.
Columbia
GJ 1061
Thursday. May 12, 2078, 0510 UTC
Columbia transitioned out of FTL fully loaded and with every sensor deployed. Stef was still at the Conn, watching the Surveillance crew look for the enemy. After a few minutes, Surveillance Officer Melinda Hughes came up to the command position where Executive Officer Barry Wood sat just next to Stef. The Captain was now in his regular cabin, well aft, which struck Dan, still at the Nav workstation, as very strange, but he didn't ask Wood about it.
"They're gone, sir. Looks like two are headed into the star and the rest we can't find."
"Any sign of Antares?"
"No sir, but that's hardly a surprise. If she's out there, she's going to be quiet."
"And nothing of Otbara?"
"Nothing. But again, we haven't tried to activate the FDR or really scrub the system for her or her wreckage."
"Nor should we, sir," Dan spoke up, looking at the XO. "As long as those two ships are there, we should stay silent. Once they're gone, then we can signal Antares on VHF or laser and start looking for Otbara."
"What makes you think Antares is still there?"
Dan pointed to the display. "Because the enemy is gone, sir. If they had defeated Antares, they'd still be here."
"Hmm...maybe. In any case, I doubt Commander Michael would leave until she knew our status."
"Yes, sir. Right now, all she knows is that we retreated to lick our wounds. She'll expect us to either retire completely or return."
Wood nodded his agreement.
"OK then, for now, let's get looking for Otbara passively. "
They moved back to their workstations.
Antares
GJ 1061
Thursday. May 12, 2078, 0800 UTC
Carol had given up a few hours ago on waiting for Columbia to re-appear and gone back to sleep in her cabin. The best guess on the Bridge was that she was already back, or still making repairs before coming back, as they had not sent another message indicating they were leaving. The enemy ships were nearly to the star by now - they had driven themselves down close, and now gravity was finishing the job. Terri Michael believed that Columbia would remain silent, as she would, until the enemy ships were gone.
By 1130 the enemy ships were disappearing into the corona of the star. If they weren't dead, they would be soon. The ship was saturated with heat and radiation for some time now, and nearly any imaginable organic creature would be long dead.
"Comm! Let's do a long-pulse VHF ping for Columbia. If they're around, they'll be listening."
"If Otbara is around, they’ll hear it, too, Commander." Miho Ito offered hopefully.
"Yes, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?"
They sent the signal, an omnidirectional transmission on 121.5 MHZ - the old aviation emergency frequency. The message was fairly low power, but it went on for 30 seconds, long enough for a Fleet receiver to determine the direction and reply with a laser link. They would hold their position for a half hour, no more, and then maneuver to throw off any unintended interceptor's aim.
Shortly after the pulse finished, the Comm tech bolted upright in his seat.
"Laser Link established, Commander. We have Columbia."
"How far?"
"About three seconds."
"Get me Reynolds."
The tech nodded and initiated the connection. Terri picked up the handset at her Command position.
"Dave!" she said with relief, "What's your status?"
The six-second time delay was awkward, but with patience, they managed it. They'd dealt with worse.
"Good to hear from you, Terri. Four dead. We took five hits, nothing vital, but some in the crew section. We're functional, though. I was about to send a ping your way when we heard yours."
Reynolds sounded guarded, as if reticent to speak openly.
"Sorry about the losses, but I am glad it wasn't worse."
"Yes, we're still getting through it here; they w
ere good people."
He still didn't quite sound right to Terri.
She turned the discussion back to Otbara.
"I was wondering if we should try to activate the Otbara FDR. We're looking, but we still have not seen any wreckage."
"Neither have we. It's possible she never made it here, that something else happened to them."
"Yes, I suppose it is but I just naturally hate coincidences, you know? Can't be an accident that the enemy was here."
"Yes, that's true," he responded, still sounding passive.
"We will send the FDR call, so be listening, OK?"
"Yes, we will. I am going to investigate the area where we hit them. There may be something there."
"Understood."
She hung up with a nagging sense of something unsaid, something incomplete, but could not really make it materialize in her mind. She looked over at the Comm workstation, glad to see Miho Ito there.
"Lieutenant Ito, please look up the FDR activation for Otbara and send the signal."
Miho had never sent an FDR activation other than in a simulation, so she sat with her Chief Tech, and they reviewed the process. They verified that they had selected the right options, and the Communications processor sent the message.
Miho was a holdover from Antares' original crew since Liberty's communications officer had died on board. Before coming to Antares she'd done a short tour on Nippon, her home country's cruiser. She hated to leave Nippon but Antares, a new ship, was a great opportunity for her. She was well aware that the last time anyone did this was to find the FDR of Liberty, a ship dear to many of her current shipmates. She knew that had to be weighing on their minds. But the best way to honor that, she thought, was to do her job as well and as unobtrusively as possible. There was no need to remind anyone of the pain associated with this process. Just get it done.
They waited six hours, maintaining their orbit, and listening for the FDR. Carol had gotten up from her rest about 1200, had lunch, and then was in the Bridge Weapons station before 1300. She remained there, waiting with everyone else, until 1800, when XO James George called them together.
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