Resolution: Bad Star

by M. L. Baldauf

  A series of tones came from his navigation console, indicating he was approaching his destination. He placed his hand on the warp engine power lever, and his thumb on the kill switch, watching the countdown closely. When it hit zero, he flipped the switch and pulled the lever back.

  The scene in front of him brought to mind a hive of angry wasps. A menagerie of around 60 armed small craft were swarming the three freighters. Trying their hardest to disable them, the freighters were doing an admirable job of fighting them off, but wouldn’t last long with their limited firepower. Something about the situation didn’t make sense, but Harper didn’t have time to work it out. "Weapons free, split up and draw their fire away from the freighters. Rivet, you’re with me."

  "Copy that, Badstar. What’s the plan?"

  "Two bogeys at twelve o’clock. Let’s make some fireworks." They flew directly at the port side of the central freighter, before hitting their ventral thrusters, bringing them above the freighters dorsal hull. They caught the two craft that were making an attack run on the other side by surprise. Before the pirates could react, Harper and Parker unleashed a volley of missiles into their hulls.

  Harper was concerned about how well the wreckage stayed intact. These pirates were not only big in numbers and well-armed, but were armored too. His thoughts were pushed aside when a glance at the RLADAR showed six targets in pursuit.

  "Looks like we caught their attention," he exclaimed. In his aft scope, he could see they were lining up directly behind them.

  "Bottoms up," she replied. They cut their aft thrusters and turned end over end, unleashing a flurry of bullets at their stalkers. Parker destroyed four to Harper's two, a demonstration of her accuracy with the canons that earned her the call sign 'Rivet.'

  "Looks like you might have to give up that top gun patch to me," she gloated.

  "Give me a break. You may be the fastest gun in the black, but you’re a few hundred kills short to take my title," Harper replied. They flew back towards the freighter at full speed. Only two of the remaining attackers were unoccupied. When they saw Parker and Harper on an intercept course, they quickly flew off in opposite directions. "Rivet, you take the one on port, I'll take starboard.”

  Harper followed his mark closely as it zig-zagged around the freighter. The pilot had good reflexes, but no strategy. After several laps around the freighter, Harper had the pattern recognized and came to a full stop, before turning over and launching two missiles into empty space. Just as anticipated, the pirate vessel flew directly into their path. Harper grimaced as debris from the craft showered onto his canopy. He smiled a little thinking about Parker’s bid for the top gun title. Let’s see her top that, he thought.

  "Shit," he heard her yell over the radio. Harper didn’t have to ask what happened when he spotted a large hole in one of the cargo pods on the freighter, and what looked like some sort of ore making its escape into space.

  "Rivet, we're trying to save the freighter, not wreck it."

  "I didn’t do it on purpose," she snapped back. It was clear she had decided to use cannons instead of missiles, which sent the target spiraling into the cargo pod. He hailed the freighter and waited for the tone indicating successful contact.

  "Freighter Anderson, this is Badstar. Is everyone alright?"

  "We just lost fifty tons of Fomalite ore. What do you think," a gruff male voice responded.

  "Damn the product! Is anyone hurt?"

  "Well, nothing serious, but-" Harper cut the connection, not wanting to hear any more about lost merchandise.

  "Badstar, this is Eskimo" Craft cut in. Most of the targets are destroyed, four bogeys making a run for it."

  "All fighters pursue," Harper replied. "Shoot to disable."

  "Badstar, Rivet," Parker chimed in. "Wasn't enemy retreat a stand down condition?"

  "Someone has to stand trial for this attack. We're not letting them get away if we can help it." Harper flipped on his overdrive and was quickly leading the pack. The pirate vessel's head start was slowly fading as he magnified his reticle on the HUD.

  He carefully aimed for the power lines leading to the ion thrusters and pulled the trigger, releasing a small burst of cannon fire that disabled the engines. His fellow pilots made quick work of the other vessels. "Surround them before they can warp-" He suddenly realized what was off about the situation, which had been nagging at him since they arrived. None of these vessels were warp capable. Most of them didn’t even have enough space for any cargo they could steal.

  His heart jumped into his throat as he flipped over, heading back towards the freighters. "All fighters, form on me. Full burn!" The other pilots did as ordered, and tried to catch up with him as he flew back to the freighters with every bit of power is engines could manage.

  "Badstar, what’s wrong," Parker asked, clearly panicked by his sudden change of orders.

  "They weren’t here alone."

  "What are you on about," Craft cut in. "I didn’t see-" Suddenly, he saw it. A bright flash behind the freighters. Harper could just barely make out the silhouette of a much larger cargo hauler. Clearly lit on the forward hull was a crudely painted skull and crossbones, and heavy grade missile launchers.

  The classic Jolly Roger markings were not simply an announcement that they were pirates. Smugglers and privateers were almost common place these days, but most were thieves and contraband transporters, not killers. The Jolly Roger was a hallmark of pirates who not only didn’t care how many bodies they had to step over to get what they want, but preferred no living witnesses.

  The fighters were still out of weapons range when the pirate ship opened fire on the rear freighter's main structure. The cargo pods detached and maneuvered towards the pirate vessel, now under the control of their hackers. One of the smaller ships must have gotten the transmission out after they started their retreat, and the mother ship thought they would have enough time to make off with the cargo, Harper thought.

  "Ten kilometers and closing," Craft shouted, snapping Harper back into reality."

  "Light 'em up," Harper barked. All 50 fighters opened fire, cannons blazing and unleashing every missile they had left. The pirates tried to turn away but only made a bigger target of themselves. The warp engine was exposed and destroyed, turning what was left of the ship into dust.

  Harper kept firing until his ammunition was dry. "Badstar, it’s over! Hold your fire," Parker shouted. It was only then that he realized he was panting with rage. He repeatedly tried to hail the Brunswick, but couldn’t make a connection. Refusing to give up hope, he switched his shortwave radio to the freighter frequencies for the sector.

  "Badstar to Brunswick, come in," he panted. Nothing but silence, and the static from background stellar radiation. "Badstar to the SS Brunswick, please come in."

  "John, it’s useless," Parker cut in. "I can see the bodies from here." Harper looked closer at the darkened freighter and saw frozen corpses floating around the hole ridden hull. “They vented the entire ship into space. There’s nothing we could have done.”

  "I could have followed orders and let the rest of them go," he replied.

  "You don’t know if we could have destroyed them before they took the shot," Craft joined in. "They have no respect for life, including their own."

  Their words fell on deaf ears. All he could hear as he stared down on the massacre was the thudding of his heart, and the blood rushing to his head. His anger was rising, not at the killers, but at himself for his costly mistake. "Shit," he shouted as he slammed his fist against the RLADAR screen. It shorted out under the cracked screen, and the faint gloss of the blood trickling down the glass was all that could be seen.

  Chapter 10

  The gates of Hell

  July 3rd 2213

  0622

  Redacted

  It was about eight minutes before his shift when Harper entered the hanger bay. The increasing vibrations and rocking of the ship helped him sleep soundly, so he was full of energy and enthusiasm as he approac
hed Glenn’s fighter, now coated in vantablack. The nearly completely light absorbent material made it difficult to look at in the bright lights of the hanger bay.

  "Ready to finally get this show on the road," Harper asked as he patted the fighters hull like the old family dog.

  "Understatement of the century," Glenn replied from the cockpit as he went through his preflight checklist.

  Harper looked over his shoulder at the other fighter, where Captain Laura Cole, call sign Philly, was preparing for flight as well. "How is your new wing man?"

  Glenn stopped his work for a moment to glance over at her. "Too early to say. You can’t just assign a true wing man. There has to be a bond. But you know that." He stared solemnly at his gages.

  "What’s on your mind, Major?"

  "Just thinking about Headcase...the Captain...everyone else that's died over the past seven decades, like you said, fighting for the future they never got to see."

  "That’s the thing. I don’t think any of us really fight because we hope to live to see the future peace. Soldiers like that usually wash out. They certainly don’t make officer."

  "Then what is it? What keeps men like you and me fighting, knowing we may not live to see the world we're trying to create?"

  "I think, whether we realize it or not, we’re fighting because we couldn’t live with ourselves if we didn’t. No one would have blamed us if we had decided not to sign up. But, we wouldn’t be able to look at ourselves in the mirror if we had just stayed home. For us, as long as evil threatens our fellow human beings, we would rather die in combat than quietly in our beds."

  "So I guess it’s pointless to ask if you think this is it. If this is the mission that will end the war. Because it doesn’t matter."

  "Exactly."

  The ship shook violently, sending Harper face first into the fighter’s hull. "That was a little harder than usual," Harper said before the ship shook again. He tapped his earpiece. "Bridge, report."

  The voice that replied was that of Lieutenant Ciera Diaz, gamma watch bridge Commander. "Warp field destabilizing, sir. I don’t think we can keep this up much longer."

  "Call general quarters. I’m on my way. Chief, get these birds on the flight deck." He started for the hatch before turning back towards Glenn. "Good hunting, Major." Glenn responded with a nod and Harper continued towards the hatch.

  When he stepped onto the bridge, the commotion made him long for the nerve-racking elevator trip. Alpha watch was already present and Gamma watch was still on the bridge. Lively conversations were erupting over the impending disaster. "Everyone calm down," he yelled, and waited for silence. "Gamma watch, stand down and turn in. Palmer, how bad is it?"

  "Field integrity is at forty percent and dropping," Palmer replied.

  "Engineering what’s going on down there?"

  The sound of her voice indicated that Miles was donning a respirator. "We’ve got major coolant leaks and the warp engine is overheating."

  "How much longer can we hold warp?"

  "The engine could blow any second, Captain."

  "Palmer, what’s left on the clock?"

  "Three minutes and counting."

  "Miles, try to hold it together as long as you can." He cut the connection with engineering and watched the growing gaps in the warp field whirl around them. If one of the ships were to hit those gaps, they would be split between the warp field and normal space, likely resulting in violent destruction. He closed his eyes and tried to calculate approximately how close each second brought them to their destination. Unfortunately, doing mental math under pressure was not in his repertoire.

  Due to gravitational warp drift, the effect on warp travel due to planets and stars, stopping short of the destination could put the ship off course. In the human territories, this wasn't a problem, because the Galactic Positioning System could give them their exact current position, and allow the ship’s computer to recalculate the jump.

  Unfortunately, they were well beyond the reach of the GPS, and stopping more than a few light-years out, they would be lost with nowhere to go but back home. "Transmission from the Eagle," Sato announced, breaking the near silence that made the screaming of the warp engine all the more apparent.

  "Audio only," Harper replied, trying to steady his voice against the repeated jolts of the ship.

  "Harper, pull us out of warp, now," Kramer screamed.

  "If we stop now we'll have to abort the mission."

  "Damn the mission! You’re going to get us all killed!"

  Harper signaled Sato to cut the transmission. "I guess I’ll see you in hell," he muttered under his breath. He turned to the shipboard operations officer. "Divert power from life support to the warp field." The officer stared at him blankly. "There will be no air to breathe anyway, if we blow up. Do it!"

  The officer did as he was told. Moments later Palmer shouted, "No good. Field integrity down to twenty percent, thirty seconds on the clock."

  "Count down and prepare to cut power to the warp engines." When Palmer reached fifteen seconds, the ship shook violently, and continued to shudder. The only sounds on the bridge were Palmer's counting, and the rattling of every console on the bridge. Even the screaming of the warp engine had disappeared, perhaps reaching a frequency higher than human ears can hear.

  The warp field, or what was left of it, had taken on an orange hue. There were more gaps of open space than the colored wisps and blurred stars that were visible in a stable warp field. Harper guessed they were at 1O percent, but Palmer continued counting without acknowledging the degradation.

  Harper closed his eyes and hesitated to make the order. "Now," he yelled as Palmer reached five. Without hesitation, Palmer snapped the lever back. As they entered normal space, an energy discharge from the aft warp port sent the ship toppling end over end, and spinning wildly. Harper was thrown out of his seat. From his sprawled position on the floor, he ordered Palmer to stabilize the ship.

  As he stood up and dusted himself off, he turned back to the shipboard operations officer. "Restore life support. Any damage or injuries?"

  "No structural damage. Only a few minor injuries reported."

  “The other ships are reporting all clear as well," Sato added

  Harper flipped the ship wide intercom switch. "This is the Captain. Stand down general quarters. All hands are to stand down from general quarters. Receive further orders from department heads. The time on deck is 0633."

  Harper got out of his chair and scanned the stars. "How lost are we?"

  Actually, Captain," Palmer replied, "Not at all. We're less than a light-year from our original destination. Point zero zero zero three, to be exact."

  Harper let out a heavy sigh of relief. "Excellent, were inside the range of the Salaxian charts. Calculate the jump to the Salaxian base."

  "Already done, Captain. Salaxian base at point five five light years, thirty degrees mark five, relative."

  "Good work, Lieutenant. Sato, relay that to the Grayback. Tell them to jump as soon as the fighters join them. Anatoli, open the forward door and launch stealth fighters."

  Harper heard footsteps on the stairs to his right. Parker’s absence from the bridge had gone unnoticed until now. He was briefly embarrassed, but brushed it aside as no one could know that he hadn’t noticed.

  "Sorry I’m late, Captain."

  "You didn’t hear the beat to quarters?"

  "Hatches locked before I could make it, and no one answered me on the intercom." She shot a stern look at the security officer who was responsible for opening hatches for authorized personnel during GC.

  Harper thought about addressing the security officer’s neglect, but remembered that it was Parker’s responsibility now.

  "Fighters are away, Captain," Anatoli remarked. Harper turned to the view ports in time to see the glow of the fighters’ ion drives arc away from the ship, before being joined by a third. Three bright flashes indicated they had jumped to warp.

  "You didn’t give a muster order
when we stood down. What’s that about," Parker interrupted.

  "I don’t want to pull anyone away from their work. I’ll be visiting the department heads personally."

  "Should we continue forward, Captain," Palmer inquired.

  "Negative, Lieutenant. Stand easy and darken the ship." Turning back to Parker, he added, "You have the bridge, Commander." With that order, he was on his way down the stairs.

  When he approached the hatch to engineering, the amber and green lights above the door were illuminated, indicating that noise and air toxicity levels we're dangerously high. He removed the helmet from the sanitizing box next to the door, and removed his earpiece before putting it on. He plugged the earpiece into the shell, tying it into the helmet's own audio system.

  He stepped through the double hatch, and into the first reactor compartment. The gas filling the room was so thick that he couldn’t see past the helmet visor. Pressing a button on the side of the helmet's shell activated its various sensors and multispectral cameras, which tried to piece together the environment in a digital overlay.

  This artificial view allowed him to make his way safely down the catwalk, towards the human shaped silhouettes in the back of the room. As he approached, he could see there were several engineers in heat resistant suits trying to patch a tank. The tank was compromised by gaping crack, and was the source of the blinding gas that filled the room.

  Keeping a safe distance, Harper called out, "Commander Miles." One of the suited figures looked around for the source of the call, before spotting him on the stairs. That figure met him halfway up, and Harper could just barely recognize the face of Miles through her helmet visor. "Why do we still have the coolant pumping with all of these leaks?"

  "The warp engine is still badly overheated. If we cut the coolant flow now, it’s likely to melt."