by Dave Bara
“Impressive,” I replied. “How do you propose we use it in this instance?”
Instead of answering he swept his fingers across the board again. A second later, a thin filament of plasma raised up on the console in front of me. I took in the small object; it felt like a thin slip of paper with a laminated surface between my fingers. I swept my hand across it, and it grew in size concurrent with my motion. Then it lit up with letters and illustrations. I recognized the forward coil cannon array.
“Installation instructions?” I asked. He nodded.
“I’d like your help. It should take no more than thirty minutes for each of the two cannon ports,” he said.
I swept the sheet back down to its original size and then stuck it in my jacket pocket.
“Let’s get started,” I said. He nodded to me and we were off.
It was actually about twenty minutes to install the units for each of the two side-mounted coil cannon consoles, port and starboard. It seemed like it took us more time to walk between the stations on either side of the ship than it did to do the actual installations.
I was shocked by how small the units were, and how light. Serosian wouldn’t tell me if they were Founder technology or Imperial, but the units were clearly more advanced than anything we in the Union could produce. Once they were installed we headed for the bridge and I took up my station under the longscope.
“Check your displays,” came the Historian’s baritone voice. “You should find a new icon for the gravity weapon.” I found the icon quickly in my menu and dragged it onto my main display with a finger. The display popped up with three options, two of which were dark. The one that was available for me to select was entitled “Gravity Projector.” I tapped it and it opened a full set of options on the right hand side of my display.
“So we’re going to be using the gravity projector?” I said, as casually as I could.
“Obviously,” he replied in my ear com. “Now activate the system and let me know when it reaches nominal for use.” I did as instructed. It took less than ten seconds to fully power up.
“That was fast,” I said into my com. To my surprise, he replied.
“One of the advantages of pulling in energy from a higher dimension,” he deadpanned. I opened my mouth to ask him another question about that subject, but then decided against it. This was ship’s business. I could satisfy my curiosity later.
“Time to conference with the captain. Lock down your display and join us in the command staff room,” Serosian said. I did as instructed, arriving just a few seconds after Maclintock, Serosian, and Dobrina.
“Report,” said the captain as I sat down in the chair nearest the door. He was anxious. Serosian responded.
“The weapon I’ve authorized for our use in this circumstance is a gravity projector. Using the forward coil cannon ports, we will be able to activate a field of gravimetric energy and project it onto the station, essentially bombarding it with a field of heavy gravitic energy that will push the station down to the surface of Jenarus 4. The station will be destroyed and as a result the entire Jenarus system should be safe again for the Union Navy to explore,” he said.
“And what if the robots on the station protest?” asked Dobrina. Serosian shook his head dismissively.
“That shouldn’t be a problem. That much G-force would render an energy weapon useless. It will be completely enveloped by the field. There is virtually no chance of a retaliatory strike from the base.”
Maclintock looked to me. “Are you comfortable using this technology?” he asked. I shook my head no.
“Of course not, sir. You’re putting the power of the Gods in my hands. But I know my longscope, sir, and I know Mr. Serosian will effectively guide me through its use,” I replied respectfully.
Maclintock nodded at this. “How long until we can be ready?” he asked the Historian.
“We’re ready now,” replied Serosian.
“Very well,” said the captain. He turned to Dobrina. “Set ship’s status on yellow alert, be prepared for anything that might throw a curveball into this.”
“Aye, sir,” she replied, then got up to leave. Maclintock looked to Serosian and me.
“The XO and I will be monitoring your com link. Let us know the minute there’s any sign of a problem,” he said.
“Aye, sir,” I answered. Serosian merely nodded. With that, Maclintock and Dobrina were gone back across the hallway to the bridge. I stood next to Serosian.
“Ready when you are,” I said. He only nodded in response.
Five minutes later and Serosian signaled our readiness to the captain. At his signal Dobrina abruptly stood and called Starbound to yellow alert. There was a flurry of activity as individual officers and combat teams moved into place, activating weapons and defense systems that had previously been dormant. The crew of Starbound was ready to go to battle at a moment’s notice.
Maclintock stood and gave the orders. “Set all displays, scanners, and telemetry systems to monitor the station. Be prepared to go to battle stations at my command,” he let that sink in as the main viewing plasma display switched to a real-time view of the space station in orbit over Jenarus 4, a good thousand clicks away from us. “Mr. Serosian,” said Maclintock, turning to the Historian after he was satisfied with preparations, “will you need us to move closer?”
Serosian shook his head. “We’re well within this weapon’s range,” he replied. Maclintock sat back down in his chair.
“Then you have the bridge, sir,” he said. Serosian nodded to me and I took up residence under the longscope hood, activating my stealth protocols so the bridge crew would not overhear my conversation with the Earth Historian.
“Power up the projectors,” came the first command from the Historian through my ear com. That was simple enough, I hit the “POWER” icon and watched it fully charge again.
“Set your ’scope monitor to long range and calibrate for the station,” came the next. I did as instructed. Nearly a thousand kilometers distant, the image of the space station appeared in my viewer, crystal clear. I made a mental note to one day ask my tall friend how this device actually worked.
“Now begin the power transfer to the projector system. Bring the power up gradually, no more than ten percent every five seconds,” he commanded.
I did as I was told, sliding my finger from left to right on the display, a virtual power bar moving with my motion. I monitored my pace as the power output increased, taking slightly less than a minute to reach full capacity. I watched on my viewer as a glittering wave of plasma shot out and impacted the station. It began an almost imperceptible movement on my screen, slowly accelerating as my viewer tracked it.
“It’s moving,” I announced.
“Affirmative,” interjected Dobrina. “We’re monitoring it out here as well. Telemetry makes the acceleration five hundred meters per second.”
My telemetry told me the same thing, but I chose not to acknowledge it verbally. The acceleration continued on an ever-increasing curve. After two minutes it had doubled its pace. Another minute and it had doubled again, and so on.
Five minutes in and the station, still as big as ever in my longscope viewer, was showing signs of distress, her outer members curling in at the force being exerted on her. One thing was for sure, whatever was inside that station now knew they were in imminent peril.
“You may begin the countdown to impact,” came Serosian’s calm voice in my ear. On my display a counter popped up, rolling down rapidly.
“Two minutes to impact,” I announced. Dobrina repeated the same to the crew. This proceeded apace until the one-minute mark. The station was starting to glow.
“Is that atmospheric contact on the station?” asked Maclintock.
“No,” came Serosian’s quick reply in my ear, and the warning in it was evident. “Jenarus 4 has no atmosphere.”
&nb
sp; When I looked down on my screen I was alarmed. The telemetry showed me something familiar, a wave pattern I had seen once before, at Levant. “There’s a hyperdimensional displacement wave building from within the station!” I said urgently.
“Red alert!” called out Dobrina. “Screens and shields! Activate the Hoagland Field!” she commanded.
“What is it?” demanded Maclintock.
“That wave is not a weapon, Captain,” said Serosian in a concerned voice. “It is far more dangerous. I believe the station has a hyperdimensional jump point generator spooling up for activation. At the rate it’s generating, it will be active before the station hits the surface.”
“Do we care if they jump away?” asked the captain.
“We care because we’re gravitationally locked with that station. If she jumps, we could get drawn away with her as well!” said Serosian urgently.
“Can’t we just cut off the gravity projector?” asked Maclintock.
“Not with the Hoagland Field operating.”
“But if we’re unprotected—”
“Yes, Captain, the resulting displacement wave could hit us unshielded.”
“Thirty seconds,” I said into my com. Starbound’s command crew had that much time to make a life-or-death decision. I knew from my experience at Levant what an HD displacement wave could do to an unshielded Lightship.
“How long to reactivate the Hoagland Field if we shut it down?” demanded Maclintock of Serosian.
“Eight to ten seconds,” replied the Historian.
“And to shut down the gravity projectors?”
“Five to seven seconds.”
“Disengage the Hoagland Field!” demanded the captain, rising from his chair.
I did as ordered. “Hoagland Field shutting down. Twenty seconds,” I reported. We couldn’t guarantee that there was enough time left to shut down the gravity projector and spool up the Hoagland Field. I looked down at my display for options . . .
“Shut off the projector!” shouted Serosian in my ears. I hit the cutoff switch to the coil cannon array and the power levels dropped achingly, second by second, to zero. The link to the station was broken.
“Ten seconds, gravity projector at zero,” I reported.
“Refire the Hoagland Field!” ordered Maclintock. It was going to be close . . .
“Peter—” It was Serosian’s voice, but I would probably never know what he was going to say, as his voice was cut out by blaring static in my ear com. On my viewer the space station blinked out of our dimension, traveling to parts unknown. The displacement wave was visible as a flash of white light, all-encompassing, and potentially destructive even for a fully shielded Lightship. For an unshielded one . . .
“Brace for impact!” yelled Dobrina.
I did as I was trained to do, crouching at my station, my heart pounding in my chest, saying a silent prayer to Gods I never talked to that the Hoagland Field would come up in time.
A minute later I had managed to get myself up off my ass and back to my longscope station. Starbound was still in one piece, and the space station where so many of the men and women under my command had died was gone from Jenarus space, hopefully for good.
Dobrina was doing her job, moving rapidly around the bridge, going from station to station, demanding reports on damage, injuries, and systems status. Maclintock was at his chair, the calm in the center of the storm. Serosian was busy pouring over a data stream of telemetry on his viewer that was incomprehensible to me. I, for my part, gave my final situation report to the captain.
“The station has left the Jenarus system, sir. No sign of it or its HD signature on any of my monitors, sir,” I said.
“Good riddance,” replied Maclintock. A few more minutes passed before Maclintock was satisfied that we were really back to normal with no serious casualties, or at least back to nominal. The displacement wave had hit us but we were lucky, or at least good enough at our jobs that the Hoagland Field rebooted in time to protect us from the more harmful effects of an HD displacement wave. Effects such as, for instance, a horrible burning death.
After another ten minutes Serosian, Dobrina, Maclintock, and I were back in the staff room, there to discuss what had just happened. Dobrina reported first.
“The energy weapons array is offline, thanks to Lieutenant Commander Cochrane. Coil cannons, cutting lasers, antitorpedo batteries,” she stated. Maclintock looked to me and then back to his stoic XO.
“What do you mean, offline?” he asked. Dobrina gave me a quick glance, then continued.
“The commander shut down the entire energy weapons array, sir, to zero, rather than just shutting off the gravity weapon,” she said. “The result is that those systems have all gone cold and have to be refired from zero, sir.”
“How long will that take?”
“Eighteen hours is the standard protocol, sir,” Dobrina said. Maclintock turned to me.
“Why?”
I straightened up in my chair. “Sir, shutting down the entire energy weapons array saved us approximately three seconds. As the situation was, we couldn’t guarantee that the gravity projector would completely shut down in time for us to refire the Hoagland Field,” I stated. Maclintock looked to Serosian.
“He’s correct,” said the Historian. “By taking this action he saved the ship almost two point eight seconds, enough to guarantee that we would have our Hoagland Field back up before the displacement wave hit. It was a viable option.”
“But not one you presented to me,” said Maclintock. Serosian merely nodded. Maclintock turned back to me.
“On what initiative did you take this action, Commander?”
“On my prerogative as longscope officer, sir. Under the circumstances I have the authority to take unilateral action to protect the ship. Also, technically, the longscope officer reports to the Historian, sir. Not to you,” I said, taking a page from Dobrina’s book and staying as stoic and professional as I could.
“But you left the ship defenseless,” stated Dobrina.
“I deemed the immediate threat of the HD displacement wave to be our greatest concern, XO,” I replied. She crinkled her nose a bit at that, but said nothing more. Then Maclintock chimed in.
“You’re correct, Commander, you do have the authority to take unilateral action when the ship is in danger, but a bit of advance warning would have been appreciated,” said Maclintock.
“Understood, sir,” I said.
“In the end, you did the right thing for the ship, Commander Cochrane. But we’re in a tough position without our energy weapons array.” He turned back to Dobrina. “You may as well get started with the refire, XO. In the meantime, what other defenses do we have available?”
“Our full complement of two hundred atomic torpedoes, sir. Plus some kinetic energy weapons that we could roll out of mothballs,” she said. He nodded.
“Proceed with preparations on all fronts, XO. We are still in what is possibly hostile space and we are severely down on armament. I want all our torpedo tubes loaded and ready to fire at a moment’s notice. No telling what else may be lurking out there. And maintain yellow alert, but stand down from battle stations.”
“Aye, sir,” she replied.
“What’s the condition of the Hoagland Field?” he asked her.
“Lieutenant Layton tells me that we came out okay, but suffered some system overloads. She’s running at sixty-five percent efficiency at the moment, but the lieutenant says she’ll likely need service again when we get back to Candle,” said Dobrina.
“Christ, we just left there!” said Maclintock, clearly frustrated. “How long for service on the field?”
“He recommended two weeks at Candle, sir.”
Maclintock swore again and then turned to me.
“Last point of business, Commander. I’m relieving you from your shift for th
e rest of the day and confining you to quarters. You’ve been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. I want you to rest and recuperate and do nothing else until your regular shift begins in the morning,” he said. “Hell, you can get drunk if you want to. But I want you to rest, Commander. Understood?”
I shook my head negatively. “Am I being punished, sir?” I asked. Now Maclintock shook his head.
“No, Commander. I’m only thinking of giving you time off to process all the recent events on this mission. I know if I don’t force you, you won’t take the time. But I insist that you do. I hope it will give you a better perspective in the morning,” he said.
“Aye, sir,” I replied. Maclintock turned to the silent Serosian. “Anything to add to the proceedings, Mr. Serosian?”
The Historian looked at Maclintock. “Just that Commander Cochrane’s actions did save us precious time and possibly saved Starbound from serious damage and heavy casualties. And I did not think of his solution myself in the crisis. He should be commended for that.”
“Noted,” said the captain, then looked once more around the room. “If there’s nothing else?” No one said anything more, and I certainly wasn’t going to open my mouth again. “Dismissed,” he said with a nod, then everyone stood and left the room, except me. I lingered a moment, sat back down, put a hand to my head and sighed. I was tired.
I spent most of my afternoon off napping while the rest of the crew got us underway back to the Jenarus jump space tunnel. I dreamt of Horlock and especially Private Jensen. Her death disturbed me. I’d never been touching a person at the moment they died, even through an EVA suit. Deaths had happened at the Academy, and in the military it was always a possibility. But I’d never been this close, physically, and my dreams were haunted with how her body felt in my hand. One instant vibrant and alive, the next cold and unmoving.
I shook myself out of my disturbing slumber and made for my cabin workstation. I scanned through my duty reports on the ship’s com system, but nothing really required my attention. After our altercations and such heavy human losses, the First Contact mission here at Jenarus was on hold until Starbound could get repaired. Again.
