Emergence

by Ken Lozito

  “Colonel,” Specialist Sansky said, his voice going high, “I’ve lost comms status for multiple salvage teams… Make that all salvage teams—and COMCENT.”

  “Tactical, are we being jammed?” Sean asked.

  “Negative, sir. Our comms signals are still going out. We’re just not getting return confirmation. It’s as if they’re not there,” Lieutenant Russo replied.

  Sean hurried to the commander’s chair. “Comms, set Condition One.”

  “Action stations, action stations, set Condition One throughout the ship. This is not a drill.”

  “Tactical, I want a scanner sweep of the area. Focus our high-resolution optics on Sagan, and look for any unknown ships,” Sean said.

  Lieutenant Russo confirmed the order. They’d practiced this drill hundreds of times since Sean had taken command of the ship, but this time was real. He wondered if this could be the beginning of another Vemus invasion, perhaps some latent attack force that had waited for them to lower their guard. But if that was the case, how had they slipped past CDF defenses? There were too many unknowns, and the loss of communication with COMCENT couldn’t be mere happenstance.

  “Ops, prepare communications drone to send back to New Earth. Include the current data gathered and Condition One status. Comms drone Priority Alpha,” Sean said.

  Sean used his implants to put the tactical plot on the main holoscreen. Major Brody returned to the Command Center. “Do you think there are enemy ships out there?”

  Sean kept his gaze on the main holoscreen. “I’m not sure, but I’m not taking any chances. When was the last time we had a check-in with COMCENT?”

  “It’s been eight hours, Colonel.”

  COMCENT data dumps were scheduled every twelve hours during peacetime using a system of communication relays throughout the star system, but even in an emergency, they were still limited by the speed of light. At their current distance from New Earth, it would take almost five minutes to reach them, then another five minutes minimum for the response. As much as communication systems had evolved since the early days of the computer network, they were still reliant on the basic three-way handshake, which was the equivalent of establishing eye contact with someone you wanted to speak with.

  Sean glanced at the timestamp next to the COMCENT communication status, which showed that two minutes had elapsed since they’d lost their connection. He couldn’t even begin to guess at how the entire colonial communication network had suddenly become unavailable if the Vigilant’s comms systems weren’t being jammed. Lieutenant Russo wasn’t wrong. The Vigilant was still able to broadcast comms signals without any loss of integrity.

  Multiple alerts suddenly streamed across the main holoscreen mere seconds before Klaxon alarms sounded on the bridge and throughout the ship.

  “Proximity alert! Multiple contacts!” Lieutenant Russo cried.

  Sean’s mouth went dry as the plot on the main holoscreen filled with flashing red dots of what must be an unknown attack force that was unfathomably close to the CDF heavy cruiser. “Brace for impact! Helm, execute evasive maneuvers.”

  Automated belts secured the crew on the bridge to their seats.

  At just under five hundred thousand tons and over eight hundred meters in length, evasive maneuvers for the CDF warship weren’t merely in the capable hands of a helmsman. With the ship at Condition One status, increased power was routed to the computing core, which was better equipped to prioritize the torrent of data from the Vigilant’s sensor systems. This was orders of magnitude quicker than any human could even register a thought that they’d read information on a holoscreen, let alone make a decision based on that information or plot a course. Instead, Gabriel, the Vigilant’s artificial intelligence, evaluated and prioritized the ever-growing dataset as the ship’s automated systems virtually screamed that the ship was in imminent danger. But the sudden appearance of hundreds of thousands of unknown contacts stretched even Gabriel’s increased processing capabilities to their limits. The AI put a proposed emergency route on the helmsman’s holoscreen that would bring the ship out of harm’s way, or at the very least, have the highest probability for the ship taking the least amount of damage. The course would continue to be updated as the computing core processed new data. In the event of a delayed response from an incapacitated bridge crew member, under Condition One protocols and in compliance with the commanding officer’s orders, the AI could take control of core systems to execute those orders, including maneuvering thrusters, which it did.

  Sean’s gaze locked onto the main holoscreen as a live video feed came to prominence, showing the area beyond the front of the ship. Hundreds of asteroids speckled his view. Their sensors showed that the Vigilant was somehow in the middle of a massive asteroid field, with the planet Sagan off to the side. Impact alarms blared in spite of the maximum output from emergency thrusters.

  “Helm, increase power to engines one and three,” Sean said, trying to help what Gabriel was already doing.

  “Yes, Colonel.”

  They couldn’t stop the ship’s forward momentum, but a burst from two of the four engine pods could help move the ship out of danger. Sean hoped it was enough to avoid the massive asteroids that dwarfed even the CDF warship.

  The main bridge was located near the center of the ship, which had the most protection, so when the ship registered multiple impacts along the forward section of the outer hull, Sean couldn’t feel a thing, but he cringed inwardly because he knew there were entire sections either being crushed or sloughed away. Anyone in those areas would be killed.

  “Ops, send emergency response teams to the affected areas. And I want a casualty report,” Sean said.

  “Evasive maneuver complete, Colonel,” Gabriel said.

  “Understood. What am I looking at? How the hell is an asteroid field suddenly surrounding the planet?”

  “Still analyzing sensor feeds. Highest probability answer given current data is that the planet’s outer moon designation—Halen—has been destroyed. Primary moon designation—Page—location confirmed, but doesn’t match with the previously known location,” Gabriel replied.

  Sean frowned as his mind raced to understand what Gabriel had said. “Comms, are we still cut off from COMCENT?”

  Specialist Jason Sansky was frantically working at his holoscreen. “Colonel, I’m not able to detect any colonial communication signatures from anything. It’s as if the entire star system has gone dark.”

  “Ops, send damage assessment crews to forward sections. And I want an update of all damaged areas within the hour,” Sean said but didn’t get a reply, and he looked at the operations officer. “Ops, confirm the order given.”

  Lieutenant Katherine Burrows looked visibly shaken and she wasn't the only one. “Yes, Colonel, damage assessment crews are being deployed.”

  “Major Brody, we need to figure out how and when we went off course. Would you work with Lieutenant Burrows to figure that out?” Sean said.

  “Yes, Colonel,” Major Brody said and went to the operations workstation.

  Sean walked over to the tactical workstation where Lieutenant Jane Russo sat. “Steady, Lieutenant.”

  “I’m sorry, Colonel. Nothing is making any sense.”

  “Gabriel,” Sean said, “I want you to compare all the high-res images from our approach to the planet thirty minutes ago with the images we’re currently seeing. Highlight the differences in those images as quickly as possible. Pay particular attention to known salvage areas.”

  “Understood, Colonel.” The Vigilant’s AI sounded calmer than anyone else on the bridge.

  Sean looked at Oriana, whose eyes were wide as she came to grips with what had happened. “Are you alright?”

  Oriana nodded. “Yes, Colonel.”

  “Good, because I don’t think this is over yet.”

  21

  Emergency lighting flashed and the floor tilted perilously to the side, causing Connor to stumble. He collided with Diaz, and they both careened into t
he wall. He watched as the others did the same. They still had their exploration suits on, and Connor braced a hand on the wall, trying to balance himself. He helped Diaz do the same and then watched as Gordon pulled his way toward the comlink station by the door. There was a ten-degree incline, and Connor heard the moaning of the support structure straining against whatever force was pushing them through the water.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Diaz demanded.

  Connor watched Gordon grab onto the handrail and activate the comlink. Just then another wave of unidentified force shoved the submarine, and they tilted to the other side. Reflexively, Connor and Diaz both grabbed onto the handrail to steady themselves. Connor saw Alder start to fall to the other side and grabbed his arm. There was a loud grinding noise, and the walls began to quake. Connor felt as if they were spinning around.

  “Damn it, Banks, seal off the damaged trim tanks and we’ll level off,” Gordon shouted and looked at the others. “Some kind of underwater current has shoved us toward the bottom. We need to get to the bridge.”

  The ten-degree tilt began to decrease and then stopped at four degrees—the incline of a small hill. They hurriedly got out of their bulky exploration suits and Gordon tasked his crewman with checking for damage while Connor and the others followed Gordon to the bridge.

  The main holoscreen had multiple camera feeds, but all Connor saw was the dark, gloomy depths of an inland sea. He couldn’t even see the bottom. There appeared to be nothing but an everlasting gray expanse.

  “What’s the status of the propulsor? Is it online?” Gordon asked.

  “It’s still online, but it’s showing a loss of thirty percent steering capability. We hit something as we spun around and might have damaged some of the rotors,” Banks said.

  Gordon set the comlink to broadcast. “Marlin Two, Marlin Two, please respond.”

  Connor watched as Gordon waited almost thirty seconds before trying again. After a second failure, Gordon tried to contact the Minnow but didn’t get any response from them either.

  “Are you sure you’re broadcasting?” Connor asked.

  Gordon checked the interface. “It says our broadcast systems are fine. We’re just not getting any response.” Gordon looked at the map and his eyes widened. It was no longer showing their current position, nor did it show active signals from the other submarines. Gordon brought up a secondary system and slammed his fist on the console. “Damn sonar can’t deploy.”

  “Terrence says we’ve got some damaged sections, and we’re taking on water. They said they can slow it down, but we’ll need to surface to patch it up properly,” Banks said.

  Gordon frowned as he read the damage alerts on the main holoscreen.

  “Going to the surface might allow us to get our bearings,” Connor said.

  Gordon exhaled explosively. “Yeah, we’ll get our bearings, but if the others are in trouble, they might’ve sunk to the bottom. We’ve damaged some of our ballast tanks, which is was why we haven’t leveled off. Still don’t know what the hell happened.”

  Connor stepped closer to Gordon. “We can’t help anybody if we don’t fix our own ship. Can you do an effective damage assessment underwater?”

  Gordon pressed his lips together, his eyes intense, and shook his head. Connor understood why he was so worried. Isla was on the other sub.

  “We’ll find them, but first we gotta do this,” Connor said.

  Gordon squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then nodded. “Banks, take us to the surface. A least up there we can figure out where the hell we are.”

  Connor glanced at Lockwood, who looked none the worse for wear. Diaz and Sims gave him a firm nod. “What can we do to help?”

  Gordon frowned and jabbed his thick fingers at the controls. “You mean besides give good advice in a crisis situation? Stick with me. Let’s go see how bad the damage is.”

  Lockwood gestured Connor over, so he told Gordon he’d be with him in a minute and walked over to Lockwood, asking if he was alright.

  “I’m fine, sir, but whatever hit us knocked us way off course. First, we were blown into some of the buildings, and then it was like being swept away on a powerful river current. The water changed, becoming murkier, and I think we’re pretty far from where we were,” Lockwood said.

  Connor put his hand on his shoulder. “You’re alright, Tommy. Stay here and see what you can find out.”

  “How?”

  “Are there underwater sensors you can check on? See if something was detected before everything happened.”

  Lockwood nodded and turned back to his workstation.

  Connor could tell the young man was badly shaken, but he was observant and might be able to find something others had missed. Connor glanced toward Stephen Banks at the helm.

  “How long till we reach the surface?”

  “About twenty minutes,” Banks replied.

  Connor nodded and left the bridge.

  22

  “We’ll reach the surface in five minutes,” Banks announced over the intercom.

  Gordon looked at Connor. “Let’s head back to the bridge.”

  Sims and Alder had volunteered to help with the repairs, mostly plugging holes and making sure the bilge operations kept pumping out the water. Together, they’d managed to repair a few trim tanks, and now there was only a one-degree tilt.

  The stern sections, which was where the sonar antenna deployed from, had been damaged. Since they hadn’t been actively using sonar when the event occurred, the equipment had remained locked inside the submarine, and the access hatch had been damaged.

  Connor followed Gordon onto the bridge. When they arrived, he glanced at Lockwood, who gave a slight shake of his head. They watched a camera feed that showed the water draining away from the lens as the Marlin surfaced. Everything was gray, caused by a thick blanket of fog covering the area they were in. The cameras panned around, but the only thing they could see was the wall of fog.

  “Banks, what was the weather report this morning?” Gordon asked.

  Banks brought up the report and frowned. “Nothing but clear skies for today.”

  Connor glanced at the report for a moment. “See if you can reach Field Operations in New Haven on the emergency channels.”

  Banks glanced at Gordon.

  “Do as he says,” Gordon said.

  Banks switched through the various comlink channels, but all he got was silence.

  Gordon frowned. “That can’t be right.”

  The comms system status indicated it was operational.

  “I’m assuming you have a small-vessel comms array. Where is it located?” Connor asked.

  “It’s near the bow. I’ll send Potter to check it out,” Gordon replied.

  “Is it alright if I have Sims join him? He has a background in communications equipment.”

  Gordon nodded.

  Connor opened a comlink to Sims and filled him in.

  Gordon looked at Connor and frowned, glancing toward Connor’s wrist. “I just noticed you don’t have a PDA. How’d you open a comlink?”

  Connor touched the back of his head. “Enhanced implants.”

  He could have used them six months ago, and that was one of the first things he’d done after his recovery. Research scientists based in Sierra had already been working to improve neural implant capabilities, which included reducing dependency on PDAs. His new neural implants contained a more powerful computing core and had direct comlink capabilities, even better than they’d had before.

  “I bet that’s useful,” Gordon said.

  “It takes some getting used to, but it’s one less thing to carry around.”

  Diaz came and stood next to Connor. “What’re we going to do if there’s nothing wrong with the comms systems?”

  Gordon glanced at them, unsure of what Diaz was implying.

  “One thing at a time,” Connor replied. He’d been thinking about it, too, but it was much too soon to make assumptions.

  They went t
hrough the various systems on the submarine, checking them one by one. The process was much the same as Connor would have followed on any warship.

  Potter contacted the bridge. “We checked the array, and everything’s working fine.”

  Connor gestured toward the holoscreen, and Gordon nodded. “Sims, see if you can get that array to do the Delta emergency broadcast.”

  “Can do. Just give me a minute,” Sims replied.

  “What’s that do?” Gordon asked.

  “It’s the emergency broadcast system for the CDF. The idea is that in the event of an emergency, they’d use it to communicate with civilians,” Connor said.

  Gordon’s brows pulled together. “Is there something going on here? Are we in some kind of danger?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

  Gordon had Potter go toward the rear hatch to see if he could get the sonar kit deployed.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Lockwood said. “Even if the DEB doesn’t work, we should still be able to detect other communication channels. I’ve been trying to reach the standard equipment from weather satellites to communication satellites themselves, and nothing has given me a return. It’s like they’re all gone.”

  Diaz looked at Connor. “Could be a first strike.”

  “Yeah, but from who or what? How would they get past the orbital defense platforms? Alarms would’ve sounded in every city and settlement. There has to be another explanation,” Connor said.