I decided to mount my antenna outside the shuttle bay. I figured I could crack the door just enough to wedge it in place, and then I would have a way to aim it a little without all the bodies floating away.
Everything went well at first, and I got everything down to the shuttle bay without incident, and then I realized I didn’t know if I could open the bay doors. A little searching on the ship’s schematics showed me there was a manual crank, but no matter how I tugged on it, I couldn’t get it to move. I wasn’t about to give up, though, and went back to my turret and got my welding kit. It took me a few hours, but I cut a hole in the door, and got my little antenna outside.
The next trick was pointing it. I couldn’t follow a signal, but I waited until we came around to a place where I could point it in the general vicinity of Earth, and then flipped on the receiver and moved it around until I heard a voice.
“Shuttle 9310, you are cleared to land,” the voice said.
“Roger that,” another voice replied. “Beginning final approach.”
I quickly secured the antenna in place and listened for a few more minutes before I lost the signal. Our orbit would take ten hours, so I had that amount of time to figure out what I was going to say. I had no idea who I was talking to, or how far away they might be, so I doubted I would get an answer on my first pass. My second pass… well, it would depend on how my message was received.
I know you’ve heard what I came up with. Hell, it’s one of the most famous transmissions in the history of the world, but seriously, I had no idea what I was aiming at. I just knew I was pointed in the vicinity of Earth, and I transmitted at full power on every frequency my radio could dial into. But I had made a pretty good antenna, so my voice came through on every Navy radio between me and the Earth, and on quite a few civilian sets, too. And within 20 minutes, it had been broadcast around the world.
“This is Petty Officer Peter Wright, last surviving member of the United States Navy war fleet at Juno. I serve aboard the USS Roosevelt Roads, SC-1434, and I request assistance. All systems have been destroyed except for the main reactor and the engines, but I have no navigation or control. I ask for help from any ships in the area who can receive this message. The enemy at Juno is not a factor, because I have destroyed them.”
There are vids of people’s reactions, and the way whole crowds gathered to hear it, especially in America. I saw it all later, but man, I can only imagine the scrambling that happened in fleet headquarters as they drafted a response, and some kind of plan. I’ve never seen a video of that, but I’ve seen since then how unexpected news can affect the military, and I know I was cursed and blessed a lot in those ten hours, oftentimes in the same breath. And when I came around, I listened for a response, and got an ear full.
There was a lot of noise, as hundreds of people tried to contact me on every channel I used. But my radio started flashing a red light, and on the tiny display that normally showed the info on power and frequency, a message began to scroll. It was a series of numbers, and there were a hundred or more digits, but when it got to the end, the radio beeped three times, and then reconfigured something, because I there was no more noise. Instead I heard, “FC3 Wright, standby for orders. Your radio has been set for secure communications. Answer with affirmative if you have received this message.”
It sounded very much like a computer’s calm, female voice, and I recorded the single word Affirmative to be sent out at 2 minute intervals. And sat there, strapped to the bulkhead so that I wouldn’t float around when I slept, waiting for an answer.
It came sooner than I expected. Almost as soon as the rear of the ship came around so it was facing the sun, I heard, “Petty Officer Wright, can you hear me?”
“Yes, sir, I hear you,” I replied immediately. I thought it was going to take a while to get a response, but four minutes later, the voice came back.
“Good to hear you, son. This is Admiral Duffy. We’ve got your signal, and should be able to talk to you for the next four hours or so, but the delay is pretty significant. Do you understand?”
“I understand, sir,” I said, and waited.
“Good, good,” came his response after several more minutes. “We would like you to start talking, and tell us everything you can about what happened at Juno, and we’ll be trying to figure out a way of getting you to safety. Go ahead and start.”
So for the next few hours, I told them everything that happened from the time the fleet got to Juno to building the antenna. When I finished, I was both exhausted and thirsty, and I drank all the water in my steel suit while I waited for the response.
“Do you have supplies for the next two weeks?”
“Aye, sir, I do.”
“Then make sure you are safe, and check back every time you come around to the sunward side of Juno. Duffy out.”
Almost weeping with relief, I rigged up a link so that I could talk from my turret, and then I slept better than I had in a month. It was deep, dreamless, and only interrupted by a new voice, checking on my well-being and giving me more information.
Two weeks later, I was able to board the USS Montgomery. She and a dozen other ships had been sent to find out what had happened to both the fleet and Juno when space command lost comms with both. The other ships stayed to assess what had happened to both sides, and the Montgomery turned around and brought me and the remains of my crew back to civilization.
I thought my life was going to return to normal. Instead I had to get used to constant change and disruption. But that’s a different story, isn’t it?
Other books by Michael A. Hooten, available from Amazon.com:
Cricket’s Song
Book 1: The Cricket Learns to Sing
Book2: A Cricket at Court
Book 3: The Cricket That Roared
A Bard Without a Star
Book 1: Wizard’s Heir
Book 2: The Two Tanists
Book 3: The Bardic Academy
Book 4:The Curses of Arianrhod
We Are All Enlisted Page 11
