by Ryk Brown
“What are your orders, Captain?” Cameron asked.
Nathan looked at Cameron, then over at Josh and Loki. Finally, he made his way back to his command chair, stepping over the fallen beam, yet again.
Josh and Loki watched their captain as he pressed the ship-wide button on the comm-panel of his chair and then tapped his comm-set. “Attention all hands, this is the captain. Abandon ship……abandon ship……abandon ship.”
“Nathan…” Cameron began.
“There’s no other option, and you know it,” Nathan insisted. “All of you get into the escape pods,” he instructed, pointing aft.
“What about you?” Cameron asked, already knowing the answer. “Don’t even try to pull that ‘the captain goes down with the ship’ crap.”
“Someone has to steer the ship toward an unpopulated area,” Nathan explained. “It might as well be me.”
“No offense, Captain, but I’m a much better pilot than you,” Josh insisted.
“This isn’t a debate, Josh,” Nathan replied.
“Nathan, the alliance needs its leader. It needs Na-Tan.”
Nathan smiled. “You are their leader now. You and General Telles. Get SilTek to build you another ship, a new Aurora. Use it to defeat the Dusahn once and for all. Just promise me one thing; once you defeat them, return to Earth and avenge my family. Take down that bastard Galiardi.”
“I’m not promising any such thing,” Cameron argued. “You’re being stupid…”
“I’m already on my second life, Cam,” Nathan interrupted, “one that I didn’t deserve. I cannot ask any of you to sacrifice yourselves. I just can’t.”
“What about the AI?” Josh suggested.
“I can’t take that risk,” Nathan insisted.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Cameron stated firmly.
In one smooth, fluid motion, Nathan pulled the stunner they had taken from one of the SilTek security officers, raised it, and fired at Cameron, dropping her to the floor.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Josh blurted out in surprise.
“She’s only stunned,” Nathan replied. “Now, both of you grab her, and carry her into an escape pod, and get the hell off this ship, or I’ll stun the both of you and drag you there myself.”
Loki said nothing, moving aft to follow his captain’s orders.
Nathan nodded respectfully to Loki as he passed, conveying his thanks. “Josh?”
“You can’t ask me to do this,” Josh pleaded.
“I’m sorry, Josh, I must. You were right, you are a better pilot than me, and the new Aurora is going to need the best pilot around.”
“She’s gonna need the best captain around, as well,” Josh insisted.
“And she’ll have her,” Nathan replied. “Now go, while there’s still time.”
Josh looked down at the deck for a moment, then back up again, a tear in his eye. “I’ll never forget you, Nathan,” he said, raising his right hand to his forehead and saluting his captain…his friend.
Nathan, saying nothing, returned Josh’s salute. He stood fast, watching the image of the planet rising up toward them on the main view screen as Josh joined Loki in carrying Cameron to an escape pod.
Nathan sat down at the Aurora’s helm, pausing to orient himself to the console. It had been years since he had first piloted this ship, and much had changed. “Aurora?” he called, hoping for some help, but got no response.
His console was covered with flashing red lights, warning him of a multitude of failed systems. He began trying to address the failed maneuvering systems, but got nowhere. “Great,” he muttered just as the plot display began working, and Nathan realized that his ship was heading into a heavily populated area, just as he had feared.
“I apologize for the delay,” the Aurora’s AI said over Nathan’s comm-set.
“Why are you on comm-sets?” Nathan wondered as he continued to try rerouting systems to regain flight control of his ship.
“This ship is heavily damaged,” the Aurora explained. “I was unable to reroute around all of the failed intercom circuits, but I did manage to create a bridge between my ship’s communications systems and yours.”
Nathan looked concerned. “Did my entire crew hear the order to abandon ship?”
“The ship-wide circuit uses a protocol that confirms that every intercom speaker has successfully replayed the order. Eighty-four percent of the intercom stations confirmed replay of the order and those that did not were in non-critical areas. I believe it is safe to assume that everyone heard your order.”
“Are you able to tell if everyone has made it off the ship?” Nathan wondered.
“I can try, but, again, many of the ship’s systems have failed. So far, twelve escape pods have launched. Current crew compliment requires eighteen pods for complete evacuation. Four pods are in active boarding, and I have no connection with the other eleven pods on board.”
“Understood,” Nathan replied.
“I should warn you, Captain, that on our current trajectory, we will crash-land in the middle of the Wellsley district. I estimate casualties to be in the tens of thousands.”
“Yeah, I already figured that out,” Nathan replied. “Anything you can do to get maneuvering back?”
“Negative,” the Aurora replied. “However, running one of the ship’s zero-point energy devices at one hundred and fifty percent would create a gravity well. My calculations show that if the device is ejected while at this power level, it should alter our trajectory enough to move our point of impact to an unpopulated area.”
“Should?”
“There is a sixty-three percent probability of success,” the Aurora replied.
“Risks?” Nathan wondered.
“An implosion event that could tear the ship apart, increasing the size of the impact area.”
“Will that increase the number of casualties?”
“If the ship breaks up into smaller pieces, the mass of those individual pieces will be less than the whole, therefore those who are properly sheltered have a much better chance of survival,” the Aurora explained. “However, the casualty rate will still be in the thousands.”
“Then let’s do it,” Nathan decided.
“I cannot comply,” the Aurora replied. “I do not have access to those systems.”
“I grant you access,” Nathan insisted.
“I meant, I do not have physical access to those systems,” the Aurora explained.
“Then why the hell did you even bring it up?” Nathan wondered, becoming frustrated.
“Because I believe someone is already attempting to make this happen,” the Aurora explained.
“How do you know? I thought you said you don’t have access to those systems.”
“I do not,” the Aurora replied. “However, I do have access to the status of power generation on this ship, and the port reactor has increased its output to one hundred and fifty percent. It is incapable of doing this without human intervention, as there are multiple safety protocols in place to prevent this from happening. Someone must have overridden those protocols.”
Nathan tapped his comm-set. “Vlad, where are you?”
“Power generation,” Vladimir replied.
“Why aren’t you in an escape pod?”
“I cannot do this from an escape pod, Nathan. Even you should know this.”
“I gave you a direct order to abandon ship,” Nathan stated sternly.
“I did not hear such an order,” Vladimir replied.
“The intercoms in engineering confirmed replay of your order to abandon ship,” the Aurora reported.
“She’s lying,” Vladimir insisted, fighting back a laugh.
The ship began to vibrate, only slightly, at first, but increasing in intensity with each passing second.
“We are enter
ing the planet’s upper atmosphere,” the Aurora reported. “Hull temperature is at one thousand degrees Kelvin, and rising.”
“Vlad, get to an escape pod…now!” Nathan instructed. “That’s an order!”
“Do you want to waste time giving orders that we both know I will not follow, or do you want to try to save tens of thousands of people?” Vladimir asked. “This cannot be done from the bridge, Nathan.”
“Aurora?”
“The commander is correct,” the Aurora confirmed. “Manual overrides of safety protocols can only be done at the directly-connected control console.”
“Damn it, Vlad!” Nathan exclaimed.
“Nathan, this is my job,” Vladimir told him. “This is how it should be. If we must go down, we go down together.”
“Starboard reactor output is also increasing,” the Aurora reported. “Passing one hundred and thirty percent.”
“What are you doing, Vlad?”
“Giving us a second shot, in case the first one isn’t enough,” Vladimir replied.
“Remind me to bust you back down to ensign, if we survive this,” Nathan said as the shaking became more violent.
Vladimir laughed. “We are not going to survive this, my friend.”
“Hull temperature at two thousand degrees Kelvin,” the Aurora reported. “Four minutes to impact. If you intend to attempt a course correction using the zero-point device, you must do so within the next ninety-seven seconds.”
“Vlad, are you ready?” Nathan asked over comm-sets.
“I am ready,” Vladimir confirmed.
Nathan paused for a moment, closing his eyes, holding onto the sides of his console as his ship shook violently. “How do we do this?”
“You must eject the port reactor from the ops panel,” Vladimir explained. “The ejection controls are located outside of the compartment, and I must remain here to prevent the reactor from automatically shutting down upon ejection.”
Nathan quickly got out of Josh’s seat on the right side of the helm and stumbled over to Loki’s seat to the left. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Eject the port reactor,” Vladimir instructed.
Nathan took a deep breath and pressed the button. A warning light flashed, requiring him to push the button a second time, which he did.
“The reactor is ejecting!” Vladimir reported.
Nathan glanced at the plot display at the center of the helm, looking for a change. At first, nothing happened, but then the dotted line shifted slightly, indicating a minor change in their trajectory. “Did it work?”
“Our trajectory has changed. However, the effect was insufficient. Impact point is still in a populated area,” the Aurora reported.
“We have to try again!” Nathan shouted, the shaking becoming louder and more violent.
“Based on the results of the first attempt, I recommend that you increase the output of the second reactor to one hundred and eighty percent of maximum, before ejection,” the Aurora suggested.
“The reactor will not hold at that level,” Vladimir warned.
“So we die two minutes sooner!” Nathan replied.
“Thirty seconds to trajectory threshold,” the Aurora reported.
“Do it!” Nathan ordered.
“Increasing output on starboard reactor,” Vladimir replied.
“Starboard reactor at one hundred and sixty percent, and rising,” the Aurora reported.
Nathan studied the flickering main view screen, catching glimpses of the surface of SilTek rushing toward him.
“Starboard reactor at one hundred and seventy percent, and rising.”
“Standby to eject starboard reactor!” Vladimir warned.
“Starboard reactor at one hundred and seventy-five percent,” the Aurora reported. “Core containment is failing.”
“Eject, eject, eject!” Vladimir yelled.
Nathan pressed the ejection button again, then pressed it a second time to confirm. The ship lurched, jumping upward sharply as it continued to fall toward the surface.
“Starboard reactor breached during ejection,” the Aurora reported.
“VLAD!” Nathan cried out.
“Reactor compartment has been destroyed.”
The plot display shifted again, catching Nathan’s attention. “Our trajectory changed!” he exclaimed. “Did we do it?”
“Affirmative,” the Aurora confirmed. “Impact point is now at the edge of the Wellsley district, in a predominantly unpopulated area. Casualties should be minimal.”
“We did it, my friend,” Nathan said to himself, hoping that somehow Vlad heard him.
“One minute to impact,” the Aurora reported.
“How many escape pods have launched?” Nathan asked somberly.
“All sixteen escape pods that I am able to monitor have launched safely. Whether or not they made it to the surface, I am unable to determine due to the amount of damage to the ship’s sensors.”
“Let’s just assume they all made it,” Nathan said.
“As you wish, Captain,” the Aurora replied. “My ship’s communications systems are able to get a message out, if need be.”
Nathan sighed. “That will not be necessary.”
“Thirty seconds to impact,” the Aurora announced. “It has been an honor serving you, Captain Scott.”
Nathan laughed to himself. “Thank you, Aurora…for everything.”
Nathan stared at the flickering view screen, now able to make out some of the buildings on the surface as the planet slid past. Suddenly, his mind was filled with memories: his childhood, his parents, his sisters, and his brother, whose life he was forced to take.
Of Jessica.
At least he would not have to deal with the pain of losing her for long.
Nathan closed his eyes, preparing himself for his final demise. There would be no resurrection this time.
There was a sudden, deafening, unidentifiable sound; a combination of twisting and tearing of metal. Nathan’s hands flew up to protect his face as debris came flying toward him from all directions. He was thrown forward into the helm console, causing a sharp, overwhelming pain in his back. He felt his left arm being broken and his left leg being twisted off. At the same time, something tore free and fell on him as something else slammed into his face, bending his head backward, snapping his neck, and ending his suffering.
* * *
There was darkness. Complete, all-consuming, darkness. No light, no sound, no smell, no sensations whatsoever. Yet, there was awareness.
But of what?
Who am I? Where am I? What am I?
The darkness faded, a flicker of light cutting through it, pushing it aside. With it came sight, then sound, then touch and smell, and finally…
I am Nathan Scott, and I am alive.
Nathan opened his eyes, uncertain of both surroundings and events. Then it all came back to him.
I should be dead.
“Nathan?”
A woman’s voice; distant; familiar…
Nathan turned his head in the direction of the voice, forcing his eyes to open.
“It takes a moment to come back to reality,” the female voice told him.
“Jessica?” Nathan asked in disbelief. “You’re alive?”
“Yes, I’m alive,” she replied, her voice becoming clear. “We both are.”
Nathan’s eyes finally focused. He smiled, willing his hand to raise and touch her cheek. “You’re alive,” he said again, this time as a statement of fact, rather than a question in disbelief, and tears began streaming down his cheeks. “How is it possible?”
“It wasn’t real,” she explained, putting her hand on his. “It was all a simulation.”
“I apologize for putting you through the simulation, Captain,” a man’s voice stated.
Nathan struggled to sit up; Jessica immediately gave him a hand. He looked around, realizing that he was back in the quarantine suite, still wearing the clothing they had been provided when he and Jessica had arrived. He noticed the man standing at the foot of his bed. He looked to be in his late thirties and was wearing the uniform of the SilTek security services. To his right was Caitrin Bindi, Ariana Batista’s assistant, and to his left was Orana, the android nurse. “Who are you?”
“I am General Pellot, chief of SilTek security, and advisor to Missus Batista. Again, I apologize for putting you through such a grueling simulation. For the record, Missus Batista was against this, but I insisted.”
Nathan stood, moving toward the foot of the bed. “This was all your idea?”
“It was,” the general replied. “We had to be certain of your intentions, as well as your honor.”
Nathan stepped up to the general, looking him in the eyes. “I assume I passed?”
“Indeed,” the general replied. “Your honor is now without question.”
“You son of a bitch,” Nathan exclaimed as he punched the general in the mouth, sending him to the floor. “Now my honor is without question!” he added, pointing to the general as he lay on the floor, holding his jaw.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After a day in quarantine, two days in the simulation from hell, a day of apologies, and a week of negotiations, Nathan and Jessica were more than ready to return home.
“Captain Scott!” a woman called from behind them as they headed across the bay to their shuttle.
Nathan turned around, spotting Miss Bindi at the entrance. “I’ll catch up to you,” he told Jessica.
“I’ll get the ship fired up, but don’t be long,” she insisted. “I’ve had more than enough of this place.”
“You and me both,” Nathan chuckled, turning back to speak with Miss Bindi.
“I won’t delay you,” Miss Bindi assured him as he approached. “I just wanted to convey our thanks once again. You have given our leaders, and likely our entire world, hope.”
“Hope?” Nathan wondered.
“Indeed,” she replied. “Missus Batista would never admit to this, of course, but it is true, nonetheless. The people of SilTek believe in peace.”
