by Crucible
“That sounds bad,” Keeler said.
Duke went on. “Realistically… the ship is in bad shape, but there is good news. Most of the interior spaces are still pressurized and gravitized. The auto-repair nanobots are patching up the holes. We’ll know more when we can get the systems diagnosed.” Alkema broke in. “Lt. Duke, your orbit will begin to decay, and take you back into the atmosphere in another 235 hours. Can you have thruster units on-line by then?” Duke pursed his lips. “I think we can. We have reports from five of the eight crews… we lost one crew… and two more are unaccounted for. I think if we can get six units on-line, we can buy ourselves enough time to get the rest of them on-line.”
“Bottom line, is Keeler salvageable?” the Commander asked.
“Bottom line, I think so. Structural integrity seems to be in good shape.” Duke clicked off a few more status items. “Major systems are reparable. We’ll know more in a few days, but … I was going to say I’ve seen ships in worse shape, but that’s just not true… However, all the fundamentals are good. She’ll need repairs on every meter of deck she has left, and it will probably take two Republic years to do it… but this ship can be mission capable again.” Keeler made a note of this. “Continue your salvage efforts, I suppose the question is, do we want to devote the time and resources necessary to salvage her.”
“In a hot combat zone, that question is moot,” Redfire told him. “We can’t finish repairs on Keeler until we secure the area.”
Keeler agreed. He then asked Duke, “Status of TyroCommander Lear?”
“She has not regained consciousness,” Duke answered. “She’s in the secondary command center, and they are currently cut off from the rest of the ship.”
“And still no sign of survivors?” Keeler asked.
“None, captain.” Duke told him. “But we also haven’t found any bodies. And that’s peculiar. The Primary and Secondary command towers were both destroyed, and much of the Inhabitation Zones were devastated. But even at that, there should have been people in the Hangar Bays at the time of the attack, and if they had time, some of the crew should have made it to the bunkers. If they lived through the attack, we would have found them, if they didn’t, we would have found their bodies.”
Alkema brightened slightly, “They must have gotten off the ship somehow. Maybe they made it to the surface.”
“That’s another reason for us to go down there,” Redfire noted. “The crew might have made it to the surface after all.”
Keeler nodded. “All right, this is the way, it’s going to happen. We’re going to continue working repairs on Keeler, and we’re going to send the search and rescue teams. Ranking Phil, come up with a plan for getting Mr. Morgan’s team down to the planet. Then, you and Mr.
Honeywell are going to secure this combat zone. If we can’t repair Keeler, if we don’t survivors, and if we can’t … get safe from people shooting at us… we’ll pull everybody off the Keeler, destroy it, and crash it into the planet.”
Chapter Six
Lexington Keeler – Hangar Bay Alpha - Prudence
Matthew Driver and Trajan Lear left Prudence through the forward hatch after the last of the repair crews disembarked and auto-unloaders disgorged their android and mechobot assistants from the cargo bay.
They saw Duke waiting for them at the dock with an oversized datapad, staring at their ship. Driver was about to report that they were ready to transport more technicians, but Duke spoke first. “Did your ship always have that stinger poking out of it?” he asked.
Driver and Lear swung around. A silvery needle impaled Prudence between the reactor dome and the command deck canopy, just to the right of the ship’s centerline.
“Oh• c ” whatever expletive Driver was about to utter was lost in the sudden wail of alarms.
“Evacuate the Landing Bay!” Duke shouted, as he, Driver, Lear, and a short wiry flight technician ran toward the ship. The technician scrambled over the wingblade and examined the protruding missile. A readout display appeared in front of her as the Spex kicked in.
“It’s hot• c and building to an overload,” she reported.
“I’ll fly it out of the bay,” Matthew Driver offered, lunging for the hatch.
“You can’t,” the technician called down. “It’s wedged between two power conduits, when you spike your engines, it will detonate.” She was already removing tools from a kit. “I’ll have to disarm it here• c .”
Duke shouted, ‘Clear out!! Clear out!’ as the repair crews scrambled for the Emergency exits. Emergency blast shields dropped in front of the windows of the Ops Center. Driver felt Trajan pulling him away from his ship while the technician carefully opened the side of the missile. Prudence deployed her emergency blast shielding around the command canopy.
Suddenly, there was an explosion, a bright flash of light, a blast of heat, and a concussion of air that knocked Duke, Driver, and Lear to the deck of the Hangar Bay.
When it passed, Driver rolled over to see if his ship was still there. His eyes still burned with after images of the blast, and debris was still raining down. His ears rang, and every sound seemed to come to him through a muffly tunnel.
He activated his Spex to see through the dust. Slowly, a black shape came through the haze. The Spex increased resolution and focused on the damaged areas. There was a gaping hole in his ship’s hull, big enough to jump through and land on the deck of the main cabin.
Driver brought himself to his feet. He almost fell again. The explosion must have rattled him, made his legs weak. The air was choking him. Someone pressed a rebreather mask into his hands. He sucked air through it and moved closer to his ship, using his Spex to make a diagnostic. Besides the hull breach, primary power and control interfaces between the Command Deck and the drive systems were shattered. The Command Deck itself was intact, though. And the ship’s critical structures were intact.
Driver addressed his ship. “Initiate auto-repair.”
Prudence answered him, her voice cracking and sticking. “Initi-ti-ti-ti-tiating repair seq-seq-sequence. Input priority sys-sys-sys-tem.”
“Primary drive, control relays, hull integrity,” Driver instructed.
“Es-Es-Estimate… 14 hours 56 minutes to restore primary drive… eight hours ninety minutes to restore control systems… unable to repair hull breach. Require external assistance.”
“Proceed on drive and control system repairs,” Driver instructed his ship. He turned to Duke. Duke’s head was bowed, silently offering a prayer for the soul of the lost technician.
Driver and Lear joined him.
Soon, more technicians swarmed into the bay, assessing damage to other systems, activating air exchangers to clean up the dust.
Finally, Duke spoke. “Looks like you’ll be stranded here for a while. You’re not thinking of just lounging while everybody else is trying to get this ship back to rights, are you?”
Not any more, Trajan thought.
“We don’t have any training in battle damage repair,” Driver still sounded stunned.
Duke squinted angrily at them. “I’m trusting you zoomboys are at least passingly familiar with the sub-systems in the Hangar Bay.”
Duke handed them scanners and a datapad. “I lost two teams of Hangar Bay Technicians when Kate was attacked. While your ship is in auto-repair mode, you can check out the Hangar Bay systems. Don’t try to repair anything, just tag the locations of any disconnects, disjunctures, quantum power instabilities..”
“Quantum Power Instabilities?” Trajan asked.
“You’ll find them by spikes in Gamma Radiation readings,” Duke told him.
“But Gamma Radiation makes you• c die,” Trajan Lear pointed out.
“Not immediately,” Duke replied. “Your gear will warn you well in advance of a lethal exposure. Now get moving. You should be able to scan all the support systems for this Hangar Bay in under four hours.”
Driver and Trajan stared at him, like dogs not quite understanding what w
as meant by the phrase, “Not on the new carpet.”
“The systems are located two decks beneath the Bay,” Duke explained. “Now, go!”
Pegasus — The UnderDecks
The man’s body filled the small space of the circulation shaft. Queequeg pawed at it, gently at first, then with vigor. “Hoy, are you dead?”
The man groaned, softly.
Queequeg tried again. “Hoy, if you’re not dead, could you move yourself out of my way. I got places to go.”
“Help… me,” the man whispered.
“Do I look like a freakin’… ” Queequeg stopped and sighed. “What do you need? You look like you’re on the verge of dying… should I summon a Holy Man, or, possibly, Medical Core.”
There was a sound in the distance like muffled thunder, another explosion in the on-going battle.
“What’s going on?” the man asked.
“Humans fighting over something… not really my concern.” He swished his tail.
“Seriously… Holy Man, or Med Tech. Make it fast, I’ve got a bad case of curiosity, and I have to deal with it before it kills me.”
“No Med Tech… No Holy Man,” the man told him. He rolled over a bit and the cat could see his face, worn and haggard. He had been beaten up a bit.
“You’re not part of the regular crew,” Queequeg said. “You’re either a stowaway or an agent… and you’re really not very good at either one, if you ask me.”
He looked at the cat through hollow eyes. “I was called Hunter, when there were people around to call me that.”
• g Yeah• c . So• c . Back to the part about moving out of the way before you die• c • h
• g There are Emergency Survival Packs two sections away from here,• h said Hunter. • g Bring me back a healing pack, and you can be on your way.• h
• g But I don’t want to,• h Queequeg explained.
The man sighed. Actually, it was more of a moan. • g But you will help me. You’re not just going to let another person suffer and die.• h
• g I’m a cat.• h
The man adjusted himself so that he was wedged in the air duct, completely locking the cat. • g All right then, you’ll keep me from dying so I’ll get out of your way.• h Queequeg hissed. • g All right, fine• c but you owe me.• h
Pegasus – Flight Commandant’s Chamber – Deck minus 8
The man from the Ship’s Watch escorted Max Jordan through the Hatch. “Here he is, Flight Commandant.”
“Thanks, Hieronymus,” said Halo Jordan, the head of Pegasus’s Flight Instruction Core and a stunning woman even in middle age. She stared down her son. “Seal the hatch behind you.”
“You don’t want me to wait around?” the Watchman asked.
“He’s not going to the brig, if that’s what you mean,” she growled. “I’ll handle this.”
“Aye, Ma’am,” and the Watchman exited the chamber.
Commandant Jordan fixed her son in the firm glare of her gray-blue eyes. “Stop slouching,” she began.
Max Jordan straightened up, but with an eye-roll to make sure she knew how much he resented having to straighten up. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” he started. “Somebody attacked the ship and I defended it.”
“You broke into the Accipiter Control System and commandeered a ship without authorization. Come on, Max, it’s not like authorization is that hard to get.”
“So, why shouldn’t I be able to take over when the ship is under attack? ”
“Cadet Jordan, Accipiters and Aves are controlled as critical assets to the Odyssey Mission.
We have rules in place…”
“You would have let me take it if I had asked, wouldn’t you?”
“Za.”
“So, why should I have to ask?”
She decided not to rise to the bait. “Cadet Jordan, you’re almost a legal adult now. You should be too intelligent and too mature for this argument.”
“I shot down two enemy ships.”
“… and if you had done it the right way, I’d be putting you in for a commendation. Since you did not, I have to ban you from Flight Ops for 10 days and deduct ten hours from your accumulated flight time.”
“What!”
“Would you prefer 20?”
Max coiled his rage back inside of him. The words why do I get punished for defending the ship. This is beastshit did not escape his lips, and because he was only half-Sapphirean, Halo Jordan could not read him telepathically. He also knew that he was getting off light, but it still seemed unfair because he had been defending the ship.
“Is that all, ma’am ?” he asked.
“There is one other thing,” she said. “Your status as Warfighter Reserve has been activated.
You’ll report to Tactical Core for assignment.”
“So, I can fight, but I can’t…” he cut himself off. “Do you know what my assignment will be?”
“Most of the regulars will be transported to Keeler as part of the Search and Rescue teams.
You’ll probably be supporting Tactical Core on Pegasus.” Chapter Seven
Pegasus – Primary Briefing Room, Deck 101
Morgan had had planetology survey construct a vivid holographic model of what had happened on the planet when the Megasphere exploded, and he presented it to Prime Commander Keeler with a vigorous narrative. “First, a blast wave, loaded with debris, smashed the night side of the planet.”
The Model showed the Megasphere detonating in a blue-white flash, instantaneously converting to dust and super-hot plasma. The ships around it were toasted instantly, while those further away were merely roasted black and burnt. The blast wave headed out into the system, soon striking the second planet.
Morgan continued. “The blast slammed into the planet’s larger moon first, splitting it in half and ripping out additional debris that later hit the planet, and are still falling. Some of them probably impacted Lexington Keeler.
“When the blast wave slammed into the planet’s atmosphere, it was like a giant rock dropped into a puddle. It destroyed everything on the impact hemisphere and drove supersonic winds into the other hemisphere. The wind blew first one way, as the atmosphere was blasted into space, then, then swept from the opposite direction to fill the vacuum. The heat would have literally set the sky on fire.”
These effects were vividly depicted as well, ending with a stormy atmosphere, smoky, debris filled, and still burning in places. The shattered hulk of the moon, split nearly in half with a massive cleft in the middle, circled the planet, trailing dust and rocks.
Morgan continued. “This planet is especially rich in complex hydrocarbons…. its seas were fairly saturated with them. The extreme heat of the blast coupled with the flaming debris from the moon ignited in places where the hydrocarbons were richest, creating firezones hundreds of kilometers long across the planet.”
The holographic clouds parted, showing massive scorched areas of the surface. Rivers and lakes of fire burning across the continents.
“So, everything on the planet was obliterated,” Keeler suggested. “We killed it.”
“Actually, I expect the planet will recover,” Morgan told him, deactivating the display.
“Ecosystems are amazingly resilient, and whatever life does survive will eventually recover and recolonize the planet. All the basics… water, oxygen, and light… are there. Give the planet another 100,000 years and you’ll never know anything had happened here… except you’ll wonder where the big crack in the moon came from.”
“Have we detected any signs of civilization on the surface at all,” Keeler asked.
“Nothing yet,” Morgan said. “There’s a lot of water vapor in the atmosphere, suggesting a huge amount of oceanic water was vaporized when the atmosphere exploded. Water on the surface plus oxygen in the atmosphere are minimum requirements for human habitation.
Lexington Keeler came expecting to find a colony. They must have had some evidence.” Morgan paused. “Commander, I strongly bel
ieve TyroCommander Redfire was wrong to detonate his atmospheric weapon when there was a possibility of sentient life on the planet. I intend to lodge a formal protest with Odyssey Project Directorate.”
“Such is your right to do so,” Keeler told him. “I would note that if we had not done so, Keeler would have impacted the planet’s surface about three hours ago.” As they spoke, the map updated. A narrow swath of the planet updated as data came in from one of the probes. Morgan studied it. “Something here, sir.” He magnified the image.
Down in one corner was a grid of lines and squares, a fingerprint of human civilization. “It could be a settlement of some kind.”
“It definitely looks like a city,” Keeler observed, poking at the hologram and sticking his finger right through it. “Looks like it might be a nice place for a holiday…. In the mountains, maybe a nice spa.”
Morgan made a note of it. “I’ll retask a probe for a close-in look. It’s nowhere near the extrapolated flight paths of the alien ships. Redfire’s calculations put the base on the far side of the planet… in the blast zone.”
“If it’s a city, there should be some kind of records, there.” Keeler sighed. He was tired, all of a sudden. “It may be the best we can hope for.”
Pegasus – Tactical Briefing Room 001, Deck 93
When Anaconda Taurus entered into the Tactical Briefing Room TyroCommander Redfire was positioned in a large, high-backed swivel chair, facing away from the hatch. He swiveled around, his fingers tented in front of him. “Ah, Warfighter Taurus, I presume. Very good.”
“You requested me, sir?”
“Indeed,” he gestured for Taurus to take her seat. Redfire looked her over. Five years they had served together, and she looked hotter now than he had ever known. That glossy black hair drawn away from the tawny skin of her neck, the dark brown eyes that still burned. How was she not yet married? He was technically a free man. He put those thoughts aside. “Do you know Max Jordan?” Redfire asked.
