Silver Search

by Rock Whitehouse

  A few hours after they came out of FTL at GL 876, Lieutenant Commander Dan Smith looked out from his chair on Columbia's bridge across the wide array of consoles and displays in front of him. He thought the bridge design was a little too Star Trek, but despite the apparent chaos of colors, text, flashing lights, charts, and graphs visible from his command chair, it was functional. From his slightly-elevated perch, he could see the displays of each ship section, arranged in a semi-circle around him. Beyond and above that row of consoles, there were display screens capable of showing any data stream Dan, or any of the bridge crew, might need to see. Above these displays were the windows, reaching to nearly over his head, and through which now he could see only the inky dark of deep space and the pinpoint diamonds of innumerable stars, all very far away from him. The red dwarf GL 876 was off to his left and slightly behind him as they approached the estimated location of the enemy wreckage.

  "Goddamn middle of nowhere," he mumbled to himself.

  "Sir?" asked the Conn officer seated next to him, Lieutenant Abbas.

  "Never mind."

  "Minding never, sir." They shared a small grin over the exchange. Just below and to the right of Smith's position, SLT Melinda Hughes was standing behind the Surveillance position, watching the radar and occultation data streams. She had convinced the Captain to run the radar at half power, with longer pulses to increase their detection range. They had been at it for a few hours already with no results. The occultation data stream, or 'blink stream' as they had come to call it, had also shown nothing. David Powell stood just behind Hughes, arms crossed, leaning against the Captain's elevated platform. A young Technician 1, Sunil Anand, was running the gear. Her hands paced nervously over the controls, adjusting the displays, checking the settings, never seeming to come to rest. Chief Allen sat next to her.

  "It's OK, Anand, you can't make something appear that isn't there," he said reassuringly.

  "Yes, Chief. But, I am afraid of missing something."

  "Are your settings correct for what we're trying to do?"

  "Yes, Chief. I just thought —"

  Allen interrupted gently, "Then take a moment and see what develops."

  She nodded, still nervous.

  Powell was watching all this interaction from a few feet away. "Technician Anand, how old are you?"

  Without looking away from her screens, she responded, "Nineteen, sir." Hughes turned her head and gave Powell her best 'what the hell was that?' look. Powell just smiled back.

  "You're doing fine, Anand. Just remember at nineteen your officers were all still useless college kids," he said, still looking at Hughes. He heard Allen laugh as he continued, "Just keep it up."

  Sunil nodded her acknowledgment, again without taking her eyes off the screens in from of her. A few more minutes passed, with Powell motionless in the back, Hughes just behind her watch crew, and Sunil Anand's hands working the displays.

  An alert tone sounded, just loud enough to be heard across the bridge.

  "Where is it?" Hughes asked.

  "Ahead, ma'am, ten degrees above and fifteen to starboard. Range is about fifteen thousand." Anand's fingers were now busier than ever.

  "OK get the narrowband dish on it."

  "Already moving, Lieutenant."

  By now Dan Smith was out of his command chair and standing among the officers behind the Surveillance watch station.

  "How big is it?" he asked.

  "I can't tell yet, sir." Chief Allen answered.

  "Narrowband data coming online now, sir," Anand reported. The middle screen on their workstation started to light up with a radar picture. "Range is sixteen thousand three hundred. It's moving — towards us and slowly up and to the right." The picture began to show an image of twisted metal, but the image had missing parts. The thing seemed to morph in shape from moment to moment.

  Allen looked at the image for a few seconds and then worked his controls. The picture blanked and then came back, clear.

  "It's tumbling. I needed to get the processor to recognize that. The image should improve." And it did. They could now see the motion of the object, seemingly end-over-end.

  The captain stepped forward.

  "How big, Chief?" Allen looked over at his young student.

  "It's about two meters across, sir," she said.

  "Shit," he said quietly. "Any danger of collision with us?"

  "No sir, it's already off our course and moving away."

  Katch appeared next to the Captain, speaking quietly. "Two meters, sir. Two lousy goddamn meters. We could get it in a shuttle cargo compartment."

  Smith looked away from the radar data, directly at Katch. "It's tumbling, Katch. You have a death wish not listed in your personnel file?"

  "Not at all, sir. Commander, it's a real piece of an enemy ship. It's right there!" Katch said, pointing out the windows above them for emphasis. "I'd like to try."

  Smith shook his head. A moment later, he turned his head back over his shoulder. "Conn!" he called to Abbas.

  "Sir?"

  "XO and Nav to the bridge." Abbas nodded his acknowledgment and picked up the phone at his station. He spoke a few words, then hung it back up.

  "Five minutes, Captain," he called back to Smith.

  The XO arrived as expected, with the Navigation officer Maz Dawes right behind. Smith pulled his officers into the small open area at the far right of the bridge. He looked directly at Katch.

  "How would you do it?" Katch thought for a moment.

  "I guess I'd just suck it in. I'd open the cargo doors, they're plenty big enough, and then just engage the Forstmann panels in the cargo bay floor to drag it in."

  "That tumble isn't going to magically stop. You'll make a mess of my shuttle, Katch." He walked back to the Surveillance station. "How fast is that thing tumbling?"

  Allen worked briefly. "About three RPM, Captain."

  Smith walked back to his ad hoc consultants in the corner of the bridge.

  "OK, not going to happen."

  "But, sir —"

  "Big fish, Katch," Dan interrupted, putting a finger in his Intel Chief's chest. "We're after the really big fish, not the little droppings."

  "Yes, sir," Katch replied, deflated.

  "I understand, Katch, but I'm sticking to the plan."

  "Of course, sir."

  Dan looked at him for a moment. "We're going to find one of the wrecks, Katch, and when we do, it's gonna be fun."

  "I hope so, sir."

  "OK, then." Dan turned and walked away, effectively ending the conference.

  Katch looked at David. "We could have gotten it."

  David shrugged and replied, "Not without denting the shuttle, and, oh yeah, maybe getting yourself killed."

  "Still, we could —"

  "With respect, Lieutenant Khachaturian, the captain said 'No.' With a capital N. So, we should, maybe, get back to work?"

  Katch frowned again, but followed David off the Bridge and back to the Intel work area. Maybe he could get some spectra or something off this object to make it worthwhile.

  "You know what this does mean, right?" David asked him.

  "What?"

  "It means we're on the right track. We're barely here, and already there's ship bits around. That's really good news."

  Antares

  Beta Hydri (d) ' Big Blue'

  Tuesday, October 4, 2078, 0945 UTC

  Terri Michael brought her ship out of FTL about a million kilometers away from Big Blue, about two-and-a-half times the distance from the Earth to the Moon, and well above the plane of the system. From there, they could observe the planet and look for signs of enemy activity. She and Ron Harris had several conversations during the transit about whether the enemy would continue to monitor this system somehow. Neither thought this place could be just left alone, as it made little sense to them to leave this crime scene without a tripwire, Unless, of course, the enemy didn't consider this a crime. That idea came up several times in both their public and priva
te conversations. It troubled them, but it was as yet an unanswerable question.

  Harris was sitting next to Terri on the Bridge as the universe came back in focus around them. As usual, Weapons Officer Carol Hansen had the rotaries loaded and ready to deploy. Ryan Lewis had doubled up his Surveillance crew, and Jack Ballard was standing nearby, just in case they saw something unusual. Gabrielle Este stood behind the Weapons station, occasionally chatting with Carol. Joe Bowles stood near Cordero, in front of the Command position, silently observing the process.

  The newcomers all gasped at the view out the windows. Big Blue stood bright against the black backdrop of space. Beta Hydri was behind them, so the planet was nearly completely illuminated.

  "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Beta Hydri (d), our very own Big Blue," Terri said, smiling.

  "Oh my God, Carol, the pictures don't nearly do it justice!"

  Carol looked away from her Weapons status display.

  "No, Gabe, they don't. It's hard to explain to people that even with high-res 3D images, there's nothing like seeing it with your own eyes."

  Greg Cordero leaned his back against the Command position, his eyes also fixed on the blue jewel out the Bridge windows. Even as he admired the beauty of the place, Greg was mulling over how he could break down the alien language.

  Terri looked down at Ryan.

  "So, Lieutenant Lewis, remind me what time it is down there?"

  "It's just after noon on Sol 63, Commander. Dawn on Sol 64 is about 2045 tomorrow."

  "Very well. We'll start on the surface on Sol 65, Friday evening our time."

  "So, what are we doing for three days?" Cordero asked.

  "Watching," Jack Ballard answered. "We're looking for any sign of enemy activity. Later we'll go lower and make some more mapping orbits."

  Terri nodded. "Right. We'll stay right here for 24 hours. Then, as Jack says, we'll descend to a low polar orbit and get updated imagery of the place."

  "You can't use a Sleuth for that?"

  Ryan Lewis turned around. "Resolution is much better from the ship. Larger aperture, much longer focal length. The Sleuth is fine for sniffing around but can't give us the detail we need here."

  Bowles was unusually quiet as he absorbed the view. His generally gregarious approach to life was set aside as he processed the reality of being in deep space, at a planet that looked just like home, with a bizarre and violent event to investigate. Harris didn't miss the change.

  "So, Doctor Bowles, beautiful, isn't it?"

  Bowles nodded. "It is, Admiral, it is. Hard to understand sometimes how these blue beauties get here. There's so much that's just grey and dead."

  "Indeed, that's true. Places like this are pretty rare."

  "Which makes it that much more of a shame, that out of such beauty rises such evil. It's awful what happened here."

  "Agreed. It's an irony I've thought about as well."

  The two men stood in front of the command position for several minutes, watching Lewis' techs as they began to catalog the objects around Big Blue. Their first priority was to locate anything resembling the enemy's construction, then, anything new, then, finally, to update the positions of the satellites and other small bodies they had seen before. This process would take most of the first day.

  Late that evening, Carol took her journal with her to the Conn. With the Surveillance teams verifying the system, she expected a very quiet shift.

  Dear David —

  We're at BH, and it looks as beautiful as ever. Even our hard-data scientist draftees agree about that.

  It never seems like enough to say I miss you, but I miss you.

  I've got plenty of work here to distract me, but know that you're always around me, floating here just behind my eyes. We'll be silent the whole time, so I don't know if you've sent me anything, or where you are, or how you are.

  I do know sometime soon we'll be together again, and that is something worth waiting for.

  —Carol

  As she was finishing her note to David, Greg Cordero strolled onto the Bridge.

  "So, Carol, I have a question."

  She put down her journal and waved him up to sit with her at the Conn position.

  "Sure. What's on your mind?"

  "You all rotate shifts here at the Conn, even when we're FTL, right?"

  "Yes."

  "Why? Seems like nothing much can happen. Can't the ship fly itself?"

  "Well, it is quiet most of the time. And, yes, the Nav system really is flying the ship."

  "So, what do you do?"

  "I read a lot, study for the next promotion exam, that kind of thing. We watch the Comm station for messages, keep an eye on the Reactor, and pray the Drive doesn't fart and turn us all into cosmic rays."

  "Oh, so that's all?"

  "Yeah, that about covers it."

  "Cosmic rays?"

  "Or sub-atomic particles, or drop us into some other universe. No one seems to be quite sure what would happen if it went haywire."

  Cordero sat with her for another half-hour, looking out at Big Blue. They chatted off-and-on about life onboard, discussing more small questions he had. Then he headed back to his cabin, slightly amazed at her cool approach to such a dangerous job.

  Intrepid

  Earth Orbit

  Thursday, October 6, 2078, 0900 UTC

  Captain Joanne Henderson looked out her Bridge windows at a very welcome sight: Earth. They had been away a long time, and her crew was more than ready for some leave time. Admiral Cook had no immediate plans for Intrepid, so she sent up a small relief crew and authorized three weeks of liberty for the whole ship. Natalie Hayden went to the surface on one of the first shuttles, heading back to her small apartment near ISC HQ. Like most of the crew, her first priority was sleep: real, quiet, private, Earth-bound sleep. No ship vibrations or hard footsteps going by her cabin door on metal plate floors.

  The crew was mostly off within a day, but today Joanne remained on board, completing some personnel work at the command station. She could be doing this in her duty cabin just behind the Bridge, but then, the Bridge had a much better view of the blue planet below. She planned to leave after the relief Captain came aboard. Meanwhile, with the crew 'ashore' this would be one of the quieter places on the ship.

  She sent her after-action report to Operations and FleetIntel by laser. They had successfully deployed all six Sentinels. There were a few recommendations for improvements in them, but the ugly little spy-bots had performed as expected. She included the sighting of a 'Sigma Sphere' at GL 674, something that had left her wondering just how many of those little spheres were out there, and what their purpose was. She could not escape the obvious conclusion that they were reconnaissance drones, just like the Sentinels. If they were, they'd have to call home at some point, and when they did, the Sentinel would hear. She had a nagging fear that the converse was true as well, which might mean trouble. Time would tell.

  Tomorrow, Joanne would meet Aurora's Captain Navarro to brief him on the launch process and the changes Natalie and Ben had proposed. Aurora would be taking out eight Sentinels, more than doubling the number deployed. She served with Navarro early in her career but had not seen him for some years. She thought it would be interesting to catch up with him.

  There were commendations to write, as well. The Fleet didn't give out medals, but performance above the usual standard would count heavily for promotion. She wrote Natalie Hayden's commendation, but she had XO Alonzo Bass write Ben Price's. It probably wasn't necessary, but she felt better about it. Both she and the XO would endorse both documents.

  Ben came to her office just before he left for home. After the door closed, there was a long embrace and a few quiet moments before he spoke.

  "I am glad, Joanne, really glad, to serve on your ship."

  "But?"

  "But," he said with a smile, "I really miss our evenings in the bar. I miss the laughing together, the long stream-of-consciousness conversations."

 
She nodded as she leaned back in her chair. "I know. I do, too. It was a unique time."

  "Sometimes I feel like I should have turned this gig down. I should have stayed in Plans, and we would have stayed friends."

  "We will never not be friends, Ben. Never. But as you know full well, this ship is my first priority."

  "I know, Joanne; I just would not want you to be here feeling alone."

  "I'm not. And I'm not staying. Cook is sending a relief captain, so I get some time off, too."

  "Good. Plans?"

  "Someplace warm."

  Ben nodded and started to get up.

  "So, dinner with Natalie anytime soon?" Joanne asked with a comic, conspiratorial tone.

  "Um, well, tomorrow, yeah." What did Joanne know that he didn't?

  "Good. She's wonderful, you know."

  "Yeah, I think so, too, but how —"

  "What, you think because I'm the Captain I'm suddenly deaf and blind?"

  "No, but —"

  "The hook is set, Ben, I expect she'll be reeling you in soon."

  "Wait, her hook is set? I thought I was the fisherman in this scenario!"

  "Just keep thinking that and this might work out for both of you."

  Ben leaned across his Captain's desk and kissed her on the cheek, then turned and headed out of the office. As an officer and a friend, his devotion and trust in her were complete.

  On the other hand, Natalie would be meeting him at six-thirty tomorrow, and he hoped that relationship would be headed in an entirely different direction.

  ISC Fleet HQ Intel Section

  Ft. Eustis, VA

  Friday, October 7, 2078, 0930 EDT

  Joanne sat in the Intel conference room, on one side of the famous 'Table' that the Intel staff met around. While she waited, she surveyed the condition of the old maple library table which, legend had it, was stolen from the Capitol building late one night. She doubted that story, but the table was surely a tough old salt, covered with stains and nicks but still reporting for duty able-bodied and ready to serve.

  Juan Navarro arrived a few minutes after 0930, shook hands with Joanne and took a seat, waiting for the Intel personnel. They made small talk about where they'd been since sharing time as Ensigns on Vostok.