Aurora: CV-01

by Brown, Ryk

  “I’m reading an unknown failure in the bow maneuvering thrusters, port side,” Cameron said.

  “No kidding? I’m telling her to roll left, but she’s rolling right.”

  “Well stop it,” she ordered, as she struggled to try and figure out what was wrong.

  “Stop what?” Nathan quickly took his hand off the joystick, startled by Cameron snapping at him.

  “Stop maneuvering.”

  “I’m not touching anything.” Now Nathan had both hands hovering in the air over his controls.

  Cameron’s eyes were darting about her console, as her fingers danced across the smooth touch-screen surface in an attempt to deal with the problem. She knew something was wrong. She just had to figure out what it was, and then come up with a solution. “The thruster is firing on its own.”

  “Well shut it down and switch to backups.” Nathan was well aware that she already knew what to do, and that telling her to do it was unnecessary. But they had not gotten along since day one, and he wasn’t sure exactly how to deal with her when he was at the helm. So he had been forced to chose the only logic course, and just tell her everything, just to cover his own butt.

  “Working on it,” she assured him, more calmly now that she knew what needed to be done. “It’s not responding. The right roll thruster is still stuck open and firing.”

  “Get it shut down, Cam. We’re going into a roll.”

  “Backups are not responding.”

  Suddenly, an alarm sounded, followed by a computerized voice. “Collision Warning. Collision Warning.”

  “Range to station?” Nathan requested after the computer voice alerted him to the additional problem. They were coming dangerously close to the station, and if they didn’t slow their rate of approach soon, the thrusters would not be powerful enough to keep them from colliding and causing massive damage.

  “Twenty kilometers,” Cam responded after glancing at the range readout. She immediately turned her attention back to the thruster problem. “I still can’t get it to stop firing.”

  “Cut the fuel flow,” Nathan suggested.

  “Already tried, no good. I’m jettisoning the entire maneuvering pod.”

  “What?” Nathan’s eyes went wide. “What the hell am I supposed to maneuver with?”

  Cameron rolled her eyes, wondering why she had to explain the obvious to him. “If we jettison the pod, we stop the burn before the roll becomes unrecoverable.” She was abnormally calm, talking as if she were reading from a manual.

  “What about the fuel flow?”

  “The unrestricted flow will be sensed by the line pressure monitors, causing the fail-safes to trigger at the source end of the line.”

  Nathan had no idea what she was talking about. But it didn’t matter as she wasn’t waiting for him to agree with her.

  “Pod is away.” she announced confidently. “Now try and get us out of this roll.”

  Nathan grabbed the joystick, again pulling it to the left. But the Aurora handled differently than the Reliant had in simulations. The Reliant was a much older ship, and was designed to fly on more gentle maneuvering curves. The Aurora was not as restricted in her movements and could assume almost any flight attitude the pilot desired. It was like comparing an airliner to a fighter jet, and Nathan had little experience in flying the latter.

  “Our roll is starting to oscillate,” Cameron warned as she watched the ship’s attitude display. As the ship rolled on her longitudinal axis, the ends of that axis were starting to trace circles that were widening slightly with each revolution.

  “Slave the bow docking thrusters on the port-side into the stick to replace the missing pod,” Nathan ordered.

  “They’re not going to be powerful enough,” she warned as she followed his instructions.

  “Override the safeties on the chamber pressure to get more power out of them.”

  “They’ll blow,” she warned. Cameron switched her comm channel to send an urgent message ship-wide. “Attention, Attention. Emergency evacuation. Sections twelve through fourteen. Decks C, D, and E. Seal off forward primary bulkheads.”

  Damn it. I should’ve thought of that.

  “Overriding safeties. Maximum chamber pressure reset to twenty-five percent above normal.”

  Nathan again pulled the joystick to the left, this time favoring the bow thrusters by angling the stick slightly forward as well. More alarms started sounding, and Nathan noticed a red warning light flashing on Cameron’s console, increasing the size of the knot in his stomach. Suddenly, the flight console shook slightly and Nathan could feel his seat wobble, as a distant muffled explosion was heard.

  “The chamber blew,” Cameron said. “We’ve got a hull breach, Deck D, section thirteen. Damage control teams responding.”

  “Casualties?”

  “Unknown,” she answered.

  “Range to station?” The explosion in the docking port chamber had done exactly what Nathan suspected it might do, adding enough counter force to take the oscillation out of their roll and allow the remaining maneuvering thrusters to stop it altogether. Of course, Cameron didn’t bother to acknowledge that he had successfully stopped the roll. But they were still closing on the station, and would soon collide with it if he didn’t stop their approach. Nathan knew that he couldn’t use the forward braking thrusters, as there was only one left in working order on the right of the bow. That would put them into a slow flat spin instead of slowing their approach.

  Ten kilometers,” Cameron updated.

  The warbling collision alarm became more frequent as the computer voice upgraded the warning. “Collision Alert. Collision Alert.” Nathan knew he had to do something fast before it was too late. He glanced over at Cameron, thinking he saw a momentary look of satisfaction on her face. She was sure it was about to be another failure with Nathan Scott at the helm.

  “Warn the station to evacuate the decks facing us,” he ordered as he pulled the stick back hard. “Pitching over.”

  “What?” She hadn’t expected that.

  “Do it!” Nathan watched the attitude indicator, stealing glances at the forward view screens. The view of the approaching station dropped quickly away, replaced by the black field of stars. He was flipping the ship end-over to point her tail at the station. “And bring the main drive online!”

  “You’re going to cook that station!” she argued as she sent out the warning message.

  “I’m just gonna singe them a little,” he muttered to himself.

  He pushed the stick forward and held it just enough to stop the end-over flip. With the Aurora now coasting toward the station tail first, he gave the order. “Give me a one percent burn on the mains.”

  Nathan sensed Cameron’s hesitation, sending her an insistent look.

  “Firing the mains at one percent.” She tapped a few buttons and brought the main propulsion system into play. “I hope they got out in time,” she added, as if pointing out his mistake.

  Although Nathan appeared confident, he felt like he was about to piss himself. Apparently, the captain hadn’t been exaggerating when he bragged that his sim operators would make him cry.

  “Collision Alert. Collision Alert.”

  “Range to station?”

  “Five kilometers,” she answered. “Closing at five hundred meters per second.”

  “Mains?”

  “Burning at one percent.”

  “Any casualty reports yet?”

  Cameron looked at the message board on her console. “Five injured, twelve missing.”

  “Damn it!” he muttered.

  “Collision Alert. Collision Alert.”

  “Four kilometers, closing at three-seventy-five per second.”

  Nathan wanted to add more power to the mains, but he knew that if he wasn’t already cooking the hull of the station, increasing his burn would.

  Three kilometers.” Cameron reported calmly. “Two fifty closure.”

  Nathan’s pulse was racing, and he felt his heart be
ating in his throat. He glanced over at Cameron. She was cool and calm, just like always. But then again, she wasn’t the one who was going to have to explain to the captain why they barbequed the station.

  “Two kilometers,” Cameron updated. Nathan could sense the satisfaction in her statement.

  “Collision Alert. Collision Alert.”

  Nathan’s optimism was almost gone. It’s not going to work.

  “Message from the station,” she reported. “There hull temp is critical. They report structural failure in thirty seconds.”

  It felt to Nathan as if Cameron were saying ‘I told you so.’

  “One kilometer, one hundred closure.”

  “All hands! Brace for impact!” Nathan resigned.

  “Eight hundred meters, fifty closure,” she updated.

  Nathan expected the computer voice to remind him of the impending collision, but it did not. They were going to strike the station, but there was a chance it might only be a bump.”

  “Five hundred meters,” Cameron announced, pausing for a moment before continuing. She couldn’t believe what her instruments were showing her. “Zero closure,” she added. She felt like she had been betrayed at the last second, just as she was about to witness another crushing blow to her adversary.

  “Kill the mains!” he ordered. “All stop!”

  “Mains are offline,” she announced as she shutdown all maneuvering and propulsion systems. “All systems reporting all stop.”

  Nathan breathed a sigh of relief. “Damn, that was close.”

  “Attention. All hands secure from collision alert,” Cameron announced. “Repeat, secure from collision alert.”

  Nathan should’ve thought of that one too, but at the moment he didn’t care. He was just relieved that he hadn’t destroyed the station.

  “We are still rolling slightly,” she pointed out to him, making sure that he realized it was not a complete victory.

  Suddenly, the lights in the room brightened, the projection screens surrounding them turned blue, and the back half of the room swung open.

  Nathan nearly leapt from his seat as he left the simulator, not waiting for any critique.

  “Fifteen minutes!” the sim controller called out to Nathan as he passed by.

  Nathan waived acknowledgment as he exited the simulation center and headed down the corridor.

  “You’re at the helm on the next one, Ensign Taylor,” the technician informed Cameron as she calmly got up and stretched her muscles. They had been sitting in the simulator for more than three hours.

  “No problem,” she smiled on her way out.

  The sim controller sitting behind his console above and behind the simulator bay just shook his head in disbelief. “That is one icy bitch,” he commented to the floor tech after Cameron had left the room.

  Just then, the comm system buzzed. “Flight Simulations, Lieutenant Jacobs,” the controller answered after pushing the speaker button to take the call.

  “Work Taylor just as hard,” the captain’s voice announced.

  “Yes Sir,” the controller answered as the line went dead.

  “Damn, he was watching that?” the floor tech asked.

  “The old man sees everything.”

  * * *

  Vladimir stood at the monitoring station in the reactor control room. Located just aft of amidships inside the forward edge of the propulsion section, it was directly aft of the ships four antimatter reactor plants. From here, every detail of each of the Aurora’s powerful antimatter reactors could be monitored and adjusted. Vladimir was busy taking readings as he made some adjustments to one of the reactor’s electromagnetic containment bottles when the chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Patel entered the room and approached him.

  The chief was an older man from India, in his early fifties, with a deeply receding hairline. He was heavy set, and like Vladimir had a passion for his work. He had quickly come to favor the Russian, taking him under his wing and bestowing more trust in him than any of the others on his team.

  Accompanying the chief was a tall, distinguished, elderly gentleman, with stark white hair and dark eyes. He was also a civilian, as evidenced by his lack of uniform as well as the way he carried himself. Vladimir instantly pegged him as a scientist, undoubtedly coming to admire the Aurora’s advanced systems. There had been more than a few of them coming by lately.

  “Vladimir,” the chief greeted, gesturing him to step aside for a private conversation. “One moment, sir,” the chief told the elderly visitor. He led Vladimir away from the elderly gentlemen to speak privately. “I have a favor to ask of you,” the chief said in hushed tones.

  “Anything, sir.” Vladimir had great respect for the chief. He had been a wealth of information and support as Vladimir learned his way around the Aurora’s many systems.

  “This man is from Special Projects. He has a team coming aboard as we speak. He has instructions to install and test some very important equipment on board this ship.”

  “What kind of equipment?”

  “It’s classified. All I know is that we are to give them everything they need, without question. These orders come directly from Fleet Command.”

  Vladimir looked puzzled. “What would you like me to do, Sir?”

  “I need someone to take care of this team, to be the liaison between them and the Engineering department.”

  Vladimir did not like where this was going, as it sounded like he was going to be taken away from the work he loved in order to baby sit a bunch of scientists. “You want me to do this? Vladimir asked. He wasn’t asking a question as much as he was pleading for a way out of the assignment.

  “Please, Vladimir,” the chief begged, do it for me. I have so much to oversee already. I need someone I can trust to make decisions on their own.”

  “But sir…” Vladimir stopped in mid sentence as the rest of the Special Projects team entered the room, led by a stunning blonde woman. Vladimir’s concentration was suddenly lost.

  “Don’t make me order you, Ensign,” the chief smiled, knowing full well that Vladimir would take the assignment willingly, especially after seeing the woman.

  “Of course, Sir. It would be my honor,” Vladimir insisted, straightening his uniform.

  “Good.” The chief turned back toward the elderly gentleman as the rest of his team gathered beside him.

  “I’d like you all to meet Ensign Kamenetskiy. He is my most trusted engineer. He knows almost as much about this ship as I do. I have given him orders to provide you with whatever you need. Vladimir, this is Doctor Karlsen, the project leader.”

  Vladimir immediately shook the elderly gentleman’s hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  “And this is his daughter, Doctor Sorenson,” the chief continued.

  Vladimir took the woman’s hand, albeit with far more interest. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am. If there is anything I can do for you, please, do not hesitate to ask.”

  Unimpressed by Vladimir’s charm, Doctor Sorenson wasted no time getting started. “You have two unoccupied spaces on either side of the main engineering section, do you not?”

  “Yes ma’am. They are to hold the shield generators. They are due to be installed in a few days.”

  “Not any more, Ensign,” she advised coldly. “There has been a change in plans. Loading ramps have already been attached to these compartments. Please unlock their exterior maintenance doors so that we may begin loading our equipment as soon as possible. And see to it that no one is allowed into either of these sections without clearance from us.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Vladimir relented, a bit confused.

  “Also, we will need isolated and exclusive access to two of your reactors. The ones that were to power the shielding systems and energy weapons should work nicely.”

  Vladimir was shocked. She was asking to take one half of the ships power generation capacity offline, to be used solely by their little project? He looked to the chief, who simply nodded his app
roval. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” he relented.

  Doctor Sorenson looked at him for a moment before handing him a list. “This should cover it, Ensign.”

  Vladimir looked at the list, his eyes widening and his mouth agape. “May I ask what experiments you are doing that would require all of this?”

  “You can ask,” she responded as she turned and exited the room without answering.

  Vladimir watched as Doctor Sorenson and the rest of her team exited the room, still in shock at her response.

  “You’d better get started,” the chief laughed, looking at the list in Vladimir’s hand. “It looks like you’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Vladimir turned and looked at the chief, a look of betrayal on his face.

  “Oh, Don’t be that way, Vlad,” the chief insisted. “Maybe you will learn something new? They are very smart people! This Doctor Karlsen has written many interesting papers on field generation!”

  “Bah!” Vladimir exclaimed, wadding up the piece of paper and shoving it unceremoniously into his pocket. “Lucky for you, he has beautiful daughter!”

  * * *

  The thin blue beams of light dancing about Nathan’s body flickered out, the hum of the machine fading along with them. With a slight jolt, the narrow platform Nathan was lying on started sliding out of the medical scanner and back into the empty room. As the platform came completely out of the tube, Nathan sat up and looked toward the control room window above.

  “That’s it, we’re all done. You can get dressed now,” the technician announced over the loud speaker.

  Nathan hopped down off the platform. The scan was the last of a series of tests each of the crew had to go through as part of their pre-flight physical by the ship’s chief medical officer. It had taken several hours to complete, requiring him to dress and undress several times. But it was a break from the back-to-back simulations that the captain had been putting them through for the last week.

  The simulations had been brutal, with every possible problem that the programmers could imagine being thrown at them. In fact, there had been a few that Nathan was pretty sure didn’t even comply with the known laws of physics. The only saving grace had been that at least his arch nemesis, Ensign Taylor was being put through just as much hell as he was. Only she seemed to be coping with it a lot better. Nathan was sure that when the time came for her physical, they would discover she was not entirely human.