“If they don’t care or are not threatened by Station Pluto, or us for that matter, as they seem to have let us go…” Holts expanded the holo-feed on her station, adjusting the three-dimensional floating image to focus on the dark field. “There must be something in there worth far more to them. This field looks more like a wall on our side, it has form which means they have a means to shape it or contain it. Its area is far larger than our sensors can cover, although they can estimate its size as the data continues to compile over time.”
“We were pursued as we edged closer to the black field. Directed closer? By plan or just circumstance, and then we were attacked, this time by larger more formidable ‘weaponry.’ We destroyed the pursuers; or they destroyed themselves taking out our Data-Pods, and we were damaged by the second attack. Pinpoint damage that had purpose and then nothing, because we turned the Anam Cara around and moved away?” Falco knew there were far too many possibilities at this point. Regrouping at Station Pluto would give them a chance to rethink every step from the beginning.
“Captain.” Ensign Holts grabbed both sides of her station. “Our scanners have found something. May I connect to your station’s holo-feed, sir?”
Falco nodded and allowed Holts to control his holo-feed. The image of the dark field grew and expanded across the Anam Cara’s bridge.
Holts tapped at her data-pad and moved her hands around the hologram image hanging over her own station. With each input the large, three-dimensional object at the center of the bridge rotated and a patchwork of glowing areas on the flat, face of the wall appeared.
“What are we looking at, Ensign?” Falco leaned back in his chair to take in the image projected from the center of his captain’s station.
“The field is far too massive for our scanners to do anything but plot its estimated area from our current distance. We got close enough to a small portion of the field to scan the outside in as much detail as our tech permits.” Holts stood, left her station and moved toward the floating image at the center of the bridge. “This is dark matter,” she said, pointing at the largest black area surrounded by a glowing patchwork.
Commander Shar’ran squinted at the hologram. “Yes, we know that is dark matter, and…”
“Commander, this is dark matter.” Again Holts pointed toward the same area.
Falco leaned in. “Then, Ensign, what the hell is all the rest? All the glowing pieces?”
“From a distance, the field registered as dark matter or what our data banks know to be dark matter. As the Anam Cara moved closer, our scanners were able to get a more accurate scan of a small part of its surface area. All of these areas,” she used both hands to point to the glowing patchwork, “are unknown, and ‘dark matter’ is the closest comparison we have. Like muscle, bone and a neutron star are the closest comparisons our data banks can make to parts of the ‘cannonballs’ that damaged the Anam Cara.”
“And killed two of my crew.” Falco stood and moved to the side of the hologram. “We are all thinking it, so I’m simply going to state it. I believe we just found humanity’s border. The line in space that separates us from… Well, from something else.” He moved around the three-dimensional projection. “If Earth, our solar system and everything we have ever observed with our instruments or our own eyes is 'normal matter' and makes up less than ten percent of the universe—”
“Estimated less than five percent, Captain. Less than five percent of the universe is classified as ‘normal matter,’” Ensign Holts stated.
Falco nodded towards his science officer and continued. “That leaves an estimated ninety-five percent of something else.” He looked toward Holts.
“Sixty-eight percent dark energy and twenty-seven percent dark matter… give or take a percent or two.”
Commander Shar’ran adjusted his tall, lean frame in his chair. “Only humanity would call five percent of something, ‘normal matter.’ Once again, we create comfort and a false sense of security in the little that we know, or think we know.”
“Ensign Holts, can you estimate the area of the field with the current data we have collected?”
Holts quickly maneuvered across her station, inputting instructions into her data-pad and manipulating her holo-feed that was still controlling the main image on the bridge. “Yes, Captain, but the estimate has a margin of error of twenty-two percent.”
“Good enough, let’s see it.” Falco found his captain’s chair and waited.
“Based on all data collected by the Battle-Net’s systems, this is the representation of the field using imaging and modeling.” Holts tapped on her data-pad. The hologram in the center of the bridge expanded slightly.
From the bow, Lieutenant Wallace cranked his head around to look at the hologram behind him. “Not so grand.” He shrugged and went back to his pilot duties.
“Remember that we still know very little about what dark matter and dark energy are.” Ensign Holts circled the projection. “After Einstein figured out centuries ago that space was not empty, we still only theorize that dark matter is a ‘property of space’.” She returned again to her station and tapped in additional data. “This is our solar system using the same scale.” The dark field shrank and another image appeared next to it. Eight planets and Pluto moved around the sun.
Falco got out of his chair, standing in the middle of the two images, his body providing the line separating the two. He was stunned by the sheer size of the black field.
Commander Shar’ran blinked hard as if trying to clear his vision. “Are you telling us that this ‘field’ or whatever the hell it is, is larger than our entire solar system?”
“Yes. The greater question, Commander, is not the size of the field,” Ensign Holts paused, “but what is its true purpose?”
The dark field had already given them the answer. “To camouflage anything they want.” Falco felt the immensity of a concept he could not wrap his mind around, slam into his chest. “And this… ‘dark field’ has been out here, all this time, doing what? And what are they hiding or hiding from?” Falco finished.
Ensign Holts spoke up. “Captain, the technology needed to create this ‘camouflaging field’ by integrating dark matter with their own materials is simply incomprehensible based on our technology and capabilities. There is no way to discern how long it has been here as we have been staring at it through telescopes and satellites for centuries. The vast dark areas beyond Pluto have been classified with the rest of the ninety-five percent of an ever expanding universe we know little about.”
Falco wanted the main engine back online. Crawling away from the dark field’s flat, endless gaze made it seem like the Anam Cara was begging to be swallowed up. “With this type of technology, why would humanity be a threat at all?” Falco scanned the bridge.
“It wouldn’t, unless we came knocking at the door,” Ensign Holts stated.
“Which is exactly what ‘we’ just did.” Falco looked out the port windows.
Yes, he thought, were they hiding from humanity? No, they were screening themselves. Using a mosquito net to keep the bugs away. Falco felt like they were being watched.
Falco sat heavy in the captain’s chair. Well, Admiral Chen, you are about to earn that paycheck. The scouting mission was a success, he thought, but still no sign of the planet Nemesis. The knowledge that the brown dwarf star was ‘missing’ remained off limits to anyone other than himself and Admiral Chen. Falco continued to focus on the holographic image of the black field floating next to humanity’s home system and was beginning to understand how Nemesis, a star thirteen times the size of Jupiter, could get lost out here without a trace.
the Darkness
a Call to Battle
Motionless in the Darkness, the young Prox was alone and afraid without her mentor and friend to protect her. She instinctively rolled into an armored sphere, each plate locking and forming a defensive cocoon. She fought to gain control of her thought-stream and systems, but something else was coming. A power began to surge through her. She ha
d reached the number of cycles when the young became full Prox and the warrior’s rage was building inside her systems. She gave into its power and let it course through her systems; with it came the control of her thought-stream.
She opened herself to all the planets and clans within the territories, the Creators, the Warruqs, the Prox and even the Krell – the last resort in a time of desperation. All awakened in the Darkness, hidden from any invader that wanted to harm them, wanted to conquer their planets and enslave the inhabitants. Finally, after billions of cycles of waiting, a new enemy had invaded the territories and killed without cause… then fled back to where they had come from.
Images and history of the events poured through her thought-stream showing the clans, the savage destruction of the heroic Warruqs and her mentor, the valiant Prox, by the iron beast and the voices hiding within its carapace. The thought-stream closed and thousands of methane blooms lit the Darkness. Prox, Warruqs and Krell began moving toward the lone apprentice floating near the edge of the territories, tucked into a plated sphere… a cocoon.
All were ready to honor their blood Oath to the Creators and earn their passage to the Realm of Warriors by destroying the invaders and those that had sent them.
19
Anam Cara
Day’s Burn from Station Pluto
“We’ll get her home, Lieutenant. She’s tougher than all of us,” Falco said, the ship shuddering under his feet. The grav-system was not meant for quick adjustments as the Anam Cara sputtered forward, slowed down and sputtered forward again. He observed Lieutenant Wallace continuing his assault on the nav-pad, his thick fingers punching at the controls.
The Anam Cara was holding together as she always had, but she was wounded and doing her best to get her crew to safety. Even when she fell from the sky during the Korean Empire conflict, many of her crew survived, her bones would not break. Bend, but not break, Falco recalled with great pride.
Falco knew the Scotsman’s fury was fueled by his inability to help her, to repair her wounds and protect the ship from further damage. So, Lieutenant Wallace did what he could to keep her heading true by constantly firing the starboard and port thrusters in bursts.
Nonstop chatter bounced back and forth from the pilot’s COM box and the engineers working to repair her main engine while running constant tests on the hull’s integrity.
“The bastards gut shot her,” the whisper tore through Wallace’s clenched teeth. “Almost home, hold together, help is only hours away.” This time it came out like a plea from a close friend.
“Lieutenant, can you give us an ETA for Station Pluto?” Holts asked while locked onto her data feeds, still sorting, compiling and studying the mass of broad-scoped analysis gathered by the Battle-Net systems. Her job was to make sense of what was coming in.
Wallace spun around. “For Christ’s sake, Holts! How can I give you an ETA? Can’t even tell you if there will be an arrival!”
Commander Shar’ran shot the pilot a stern look and for a brief moment Lieutenant Wallace looked about ready to give him a dose of the same, but thought better of it.
Ensign Holts sat in silence, staring at Lieutenant Wallace’s back.
Falco sat in his captain’s chair, watching and listening to his crew’s reactions. He noticed Ensign Holts was not cowering like a scolded child as many young officers would. No, he thought, she is waiting for him to collect himself. She is strong, finding her place within the officer structure, strong indeed. Falco had chosen well. He turned back to the Battle-Net screen; he felt the quiet strength emanating from Holts and he liked it.
“I was out of line, Holts.” Wallace eventually broke the silence.
“I know how much she means to you, Lieutenant. She is family to all of us. I simply need an ETA so I can have 10th Fleet relay the info to Station Pluto’s hangar so they can begin the repairs as soon as we dock.”
“Thank you.” A long pause followed. “She is more than a boat…” Wallace steadied himself, cleared his throat. “She is our boat and has protected this crew as best she could by putting herself between us and all that would do us harm.” Lieutenant Wallace turned back to his Nav-pad and the assault continued with thick fingers punching the controls.
Falco gently nodded in his officer’s direction and caught Commander Shar’ran looking at him intently then shifting his stare towards Ensign Holts. “Ensign Holts, please look up the origins of the boat’s name, given to her by her stubborn pilot many years ago.”
She quickly did as asked. “Soul mate,” she whispered.
“Ensign?”
Holts turned to face Commander Shar’ran only to find the man’s face firmly planted a few inches from his Battle-Net screen. She stood and walked the few paces it took to reach his station.
The Commander continued to squint and moved his face closer to the rolling footage and then pulled back as if the distance might provide clarity and substance to whatever his mind was trying make sense of, and played the scene again. Ensign Holts patiently stood back looking over his shoulder. The screen was filled with the smoky haze known to them simply as the ‘dark field.’ Finally, she grew impatient.
“What do you see, Commander?”
Shar’ran came to life. “There!” he said, his finger flying to the screen. “There is a change in the dark field.” The grainy video abruptly ended and froze on the final image.
“When was this taken?” Holts asked.
“Last image before we moved beyond the Battle-Net’s limited visual range. Captain told me to continue monitoring all sensors and data feeds so it took me a while to get to the older data.”
Holts looked to Falco, “You should see this, Captain.”
The commander tapped a few keys on his data-pad and the image changed as he zoomed in. The wall of the field had changed while the Anam Cara was limping away. He hit another key and the video started again from a previous point. The commander slowed the video to a snail’s pace and enhanced the contrast.
“What the hell?” The black field glowed in spots. “Flashes?” Falco whispered. It was subtle and without the Battle-Net, he knew they would have missed it, but there it was. It looked like a lightning storm buried in a dense, oily, cloud. Each smoldering spot had a viscous ring around it before it faded to black. It reminded Falco of those ancient lamps they had in the Smithsonian, Lava Lamps. The video went black.
“Add it to the data files and send it to 10th Fleet with the rest.” Falco turned and headed back to his captain’s chair.
The Anam Cara shook hard.
“Whoa.” Falco fell into his seat and clicked into his harness.
Lieutenant Wallace swore and adjusted the thrusters. “I hope that is the main engine coming back to life.”
A pulsing vibration rolled through the ship in waves from stern to bow.
Captain Falco’s COMs box lit green and belched from the bowels of the ship. “Engine One back on-line, Captain. Fifty percent power is the best we could do.”
“Excellent work, Chief! We’ll take it. Lieutenant Wallace best speed.”
Wallace fired the main and gently increased her pace. “Hang in there, girl, almost there,” he whispered.
Station Pluto
Director Lipinski
“Forward today’s progress report.” Station Director Lipinski spun in his chair to grab a cooling espresso and spun back in time for his COM-Box to belch the answer.
“You should have it now, Director.”
Lipinski tapped on the glowing data packet that appeared on his pad and chose to view it in hologram mode. He loved to reach up and manipulate the floating strings of numbers, zooming in and out, highlighting the ratios that made him look good and getting various departments to ‘adjust’ the ones that did not.
All in a day’s work, he thought. The hologram shimmered and a sturdy, square-jawed woman replaced his glowing numbers. The intensity of his assistant’s eyes was unsettling and the fact she was using the emergency channel was ominous.
&n
bsp; “Another accident, Ms Silva? Drunks out the airshaft?” He swore under his breath.
“No, sir, but we have picked up a Data-Pod from the Anam Cara. It’s a bit worse for wear, but our techs are loading the data packs as we speak.”
“Captain Falco is streaming a direct feed to Admiral Chen of 10th Fleet? Why have I not been notified if a ‘situation’ has developed?” Lipinski was working through the possible scenarios as Silva jumped back in.
“Chief Engineer Tenzin will have the COMs fully connected and operational within the hour. Until then, you can wait for the Data-Pod to be uploaded or—”
“Silva, I will speak directly with Admiral Chen.” Why in the hell did he not notify me! he thought, wrapping his fingers on his desktop. “I want information from the Data-Pod uploaded and floating above my desk ASAP. The last thing I want is to be stonewalled by the leader of the United Nations Navy with a personal agenda. We are cutting that god damn ribbon on Station Pluto in a week Ms Silva.” He tapped his controls and Silva vanished mid-sentence.
The Data-Pod continued to gnaw at the edges of his sanity. Not even sipping an espresso crafted of artisan beans grown in the hydroponic sea on Mars could take his thoughts off the potential calamity encased in those encrypted bytes of information waiting to be released. His fingers continued to rap in waves on his desk’s surface.
Assistant Silva’s desperate face suddenly appeared on the holo-feed.
“What the hell is going on, Ms Silva?” Director Lipinski instinctively pushed back on his chair to gain separation from the floating, contorted face of his assistant.
“Data packets decrypted and uploaded, sir. You should have them now.”
Without a word, Lipinski’s hands went to his controls and a few seconds later the translucent displays built into his office wall came to life. Assistant Silva’s face continued to hover in hologram mode above his desk. This time she turned to the screens to watch their joint feed of the data sent from the Anam Cara.
Darkness: Book One of the Oortian Wars Page 10
