The Earthfleet Saga- Volume Two

by Dennis Young

  “Then how did you identify it as Earth origin, Lieutenant?” asked Ch’rehrin. “And how did you determine its age?”

  “Part of the signal is in clear, sir, or I should say, Earth English, in fact. Old Morse Code. Dot-dot-dot, dash-dash-dash, dot-dot-dot.”

  “SOS,” breathed Connor. “It’s a distress signal.”

  “Holy crap,” said Murphy.

  Two

  Unexpected Findings

  “Duty Log, Lieutenant Commander Jennifer Murphy, 120717.19. We’ve sneaked away from the border area, and so far, no Qoearc are following. There is also no sign of the vessel seen at the planet, so for the moment, we’re clear to continue the mission without interference.

  “We have no idea what we’ll find when we arrive at the target coordinates in about eight hours, but I’ll order Standby Alert before we drop out of hyperlight. Our approach will be cautious, to say the least. For Fleet to send us on an OC says either they have enormous confidence in us, or we’re simply the only ship available. Of course, the third option is, we’re expendable, and if we don’t survive whatever we’ve been ordered to investigate, they’ll know to send a bigger ship next time.”

  * * *

  EAS Pheidippides…

  Murphy sat with Doctor Melinkov in her sickbay office. A hardcopy of Ensign Jia-Lan Wèi’s file rested on the desk. Murphy closed the cover and sighed. “How far along?”

  “Six to eight weeks. She is perfectly healthy, Captain, and I see no reason for her to be denied duties.”

  Murphy nodded. “I don’t doubt her ability Doc, I just…” She sat back for a long moment, lost in thought. She looked up after a moment. “Martin?”

  Melinkov nodded. “She had not yet told him, and I have left it up to her to do so.”

  “Once they’ve… talked, I want to meet with them and you, to decide how to handle this.”

  Melinkov shook her head. “There is no special treatment necessary, Captain. It is life, and this is not the first ship to have a pregnant woman as a crew member.”

  “No, just the first one with only a crew of fourteen, nearly three months from a base, on an OC mission. Happens every day, right?”

  Melinkov nodded again. “Your point is taken. Do you have any thought how long the investigation will take?”

  “None. It could be days, it could be months. You might be delivering a baby before we’re done.”

  “Our facilities are adequate. Again, it is life, and life happens in its own way. I may assist, but it will come, regardless.”

  Murphy thought for a moment. “What about medical stasis?”

  Melinkov gave her a stern look. “You would have me put the Ensign in stasis for what reason?”

  “Safety of the mother and unborn child, if nothing else, Doc.”

  “Leaving you a crew manifest short a member for an important mission.”

  Murphy shrugged. “We can manage. It’s not something I’d want to make an order—”

  “Then do not do so. Captain, this is not a disease and will not affect the Ensign’s performance of her duties.”

  “Until she gets so round, she can hardly walk.”

  Melinkov pursed her lips. “Let us be patient and see how matters go with the mission first. At the very least, she is fully capable for six months.”

  Murphy tapped the folder in front of her. “No security duties, period. No off-ship excursions, no cargo duties, no damage control duties after the first trimester.”

  Melinkov nodded. “Agreed, Captain, and prudent. I am certain you will find plenty of work for the Ensign otherwise. However, regular exercise is advised for the health of mother and child.”

  “Alright, Doc, if you say so. Cripes, this isn’t anything we needed right now.”

  “But it has come, and a cause for joy, yes? A new life into the universe, unique and fresh.”

  Murphy grinned wryly. “You should write some poetry about it, Doc. You have a way with words.”

  Melinkov showed a slight smile. “What makes you think I have not already?”

  * * *

  “Hyperlight emergence benchmark coming up, Captain.” Jorge Trujillo, the second-shift Nav officer, turned to Murphy in her command seat. “One minute.”

  “Mr. Ch’rehrin, full passive sensors. I don’t want to disturb whatever this thing is if it’s asleep. Tactical, keep your eyes open for other ships.”

  A chorus of acknowledgements met Murphy’s weary ears. She had been on the Bridge for nearly twelve hours without a break and was running on caffeine and a stim-shot administered by Dr. Melinkov six hours earlier. It was wearing off, and she considered requesting another.

  “Thirty seconds, Captain,” said Ch’rehrin, watching his screens. “Mark”.

  “Disengage hyperlight, Helm, bring us to rest regarding the asteroid, take us to one hundred kilometers relative distance.”

  “Aye, Captain, one hundred kilometers.”

  “Mr. Ch’rehrin?” Murphy turned to face the science station.

  “Scanning… no sign of the object yet.”

  “Tactical?”

  Lieutenant Demarcy, Hatu Gil’s relief, shook his head. “Clear space, Captain, just us and the big rock.”

  Murphy hit the intercom. “Engineering, Bridge. Taylor, status.”

  “Board is green, phase coils currently on standby, we can go to hyperlight on your command.”

  “Keep the engines hot just in case.” She clicked off. “Mr. Ch’rehrin?”

  “Still nothing, Captain.”

  “Detection,” said Demarcy from Tactical. “Something coming up from the other side, possibly stealthed.”

  Murphy looked at her chair arm telltales; yes, she’d ordered Standby Alert, even in her fatigue. “Eyes, Tactical, passive only,” she reminded the lieutenant.

  “Captain, there is certainly something in orbit around the asteroid, but heavily masked,” said Ch’rehrin. “I cannot identify the object directly, only by its absence.”

  “As Lieutenant Gil suggested, nothing, not something.” Murphy glanced one to the other. “Suggestion?”

  Ch’rehrin turned. “There is no energy output other than the continuing signal detected before, the distress call, and very weak. I do not understand how the object cannot be seen directly.”

  “Reflective panels,” said Demarcy suddenly, then he faced Murphy. “Old-school stuff, really old, and completely passive. Mirrors, Captain.”

  “Reflecting nothing but stars back at us, so we can’t see it directly.” Trujillo at Nav whistled. “Brilliant.”

  “Mr. Ch’rehrin, confirm, please.” Murphy turned back to the main viewer and the image of the slowly-tumbling asteroid. “Helm, move us in carefully. Thrusters only.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Confirmed. I’m detecting reflections of star patterns from a point source in orbit about the asteroid.” Ch’rehrin turned to Murphy. “Orbital period approximately thirty-eight minutes, currently five minutes into the passage.”

  “Helm, adjust to follow, put our orbit parallel to the object ten kilometers out. Hold with thrusters only.”

  “A pretty good balancing act, Captain, but I can manage,” replied Steven Allworth, the relief helm officer.

  Murphy looked to Demarcy again. “Anything?”

  “Dead, Captain, just—”

  All the Bridge lights went out. Panels went dark, the screen blanked, Murphy could hear the environmental system fans slowing and stopping. Gravity slowly ebbed from her body.

  For ten seconds, the Bridge was eerily quiet. Five seconds later, the deep red emergency lights came on. Several loose objects were retrieved by crew before they could float too far from the control panels.

  “Seat restraints,” said Murphy quietly, as she clicked the intercom switch. “Engineering, Bridge. Taylor, what’s going on?” The speaker was silent. Murphy clicked her wrist communicator. “Taylor, Murphy. What happened?”

  “Taylor here. Engineering is dead, everything just… stopped. No en
gines, no power, nothing.”

  “What caused it? Same thing as before?”

  “Captain, I have no idea, but it’s not shipboard. Even if the hyperlight core was jettisoned, we’d still have the sublight engines for ship’s power.”

  “How much emergency power do we have?”

  “About six hours. We can extend that to ten or more if we cut back in a few places.”

  “Do it. I’ll get back to you.” Murphy looked to Ch’rehrin working with a hand-held scanner. “Anything?”

  “The ship is dead, Captain, and there are residual indications of a dampening field of some sort.”

  “EMP,” said Demarcy. “I caught a whiff of it on scanners just before everything went out.”

  “From the object?”

  Demarcy nodded. “Most likely, as that’s the only other thing around.”

  “Ch’rehrin, get all departments on your wrist comm and have them check in, make sure everyone is aware and okay. Mr. Demarcy, use your aux-scanner and see what you can find.”

  “Captain, I suggest we go EVA for less interference from the ship’s hull.” Ch’rehrin now stood at Murphy’s side, speaking softly, holding the chair arm to remain stationary.

  “Alright, but take someone with you, one of the E-techs. Don’t get yourself lost out there.” She watched as Ch’rehrin took his exit, stopping at the door to engage the manual operator.

  Murphy waited. All around the tiny Bridge, the crew used their hand-held scanners to monitor whatever they could. The emergency lights soon became depressing, until Murphy ordered them dampened.

  “Captain, we’re drifting,” said Allworth at the helm. “Hard to say how much, but away from the asteroid at least.”

  Murphy nodded wordlessly, watching the blank screen. She knew her ship was in serious trouble, but couldn’t think of anything to do but stay calm and wait.

  Her wristcom buzzed. “Bridge, Engineering. Murphy, we’ve got a bit of power restored. Whatever it was, the effect seems to be fading.”

  She pressed the reply button. “Stay put, don’t do anything drastic. The first officer and one of your E-techs are outside seeing if they can get a better look.”

  “Got it. We’ll sit tight.”

  “Ch’rehrin here. We are exiting the outer lock. Stand by.”

  Sounds of breathing came through Murphy’s wrist comm as she waited.

  “Ch’rehrin, Captain. The effect is confirmed from the object, which we can see more clearly from here. Likely it was an automated defense system, engaged by our proximity. Effects seem to be fading.”

  “Noted, get back inside. Engineering reports the ship is coming back to life.”

  “I’m also detecting a faint neutrino source.”

  “From the object?”

  “From beyond this vicinity. Possibly another ship.”

  Murphy frowned. “Alright, return to the airlock and stand by. As soon as we have the helm, I’m getting us away from this thing. We’ll confer as soon as we can.”

  She punched the button, not waiting for Ch’rehrin’s reply, and sat back. Cripes!

  * * *

  Murphy called another conference, this one by comm, once the ship’s power had been restored. She ordered Pheidippides moved a thousand klicks beyond the asteroid, and alarms set in case other EMP’s were detected, at which time the ship’s polarization would automatically reverse. She wasn’t sure if it would do any good against an electro-magnetic pulse, but anything was better than nothing.

  “Status?” Murphy sat in her command seat, still fatigued, but more alert from Dr. Melinkov’s second stims-shot. Ch’rehrin and Hatu Gil stood before her, the other stations manned by their primaries. Both tactical stations were manned and operating.

  “Full power restored, Captain, no damage detected,” said Thomas from the intercom. “We had to reset half the circuit breakers, though, and replace a few more.”

  Murphy looked to her first officer.

  “The object masses nearly five hundred thousand kilos, Captain, and as seen, is shielded by reflective panels, most of which are still intact.”

  “Most. But not all.” Murphy’s eyes drifted to the screen and the asteroid showing there. “How do we get close enough to see if there are any identifying marks or registry numbers without endangering the ship?”

  “Skiff?” Gil shrugged at Murphy’s glance. “If we use thrusters, then coast, maybe it won’t hit us again.”

  “A reasonable suggestion,” added Ch’rehrin. “But if incorrect, you would crash into the asteroid.”

  “Thrusters can be set for mechanical use only,” said Taylor from Engineering. “Manually operating the valves requires only a low-power signal. It takes them out of the control loop. It’s a safety thing they built in.”

  Murphy exchanged glances with Ch’rehrin, then nodded. “Set it up. We have a mission, and unless we do something, we could sit out here for weeks.” She sighed. “I’m taking a break. Mr. Ch’rehrin, I suggest you do the same. Mr. Gil, you have the conn, arrange this with Engineering and we’ll continue to observe and monitor for the next six hours. This thing has been out here a long time. It’s not going anywhere.”

  Murphy rose stiffly. “I’ll be in Sickbay for a bit, then in quarters. Holler if anything comes up.”

  She exited, sagging noticeably beyond the door, and pressed her wrist-comm button. “Dr. Melinkov, Murphy. Have Martin and Jia-Lan meet us in your office immediately.”

  * * *

  It’s gonna be okay. Murphy stripped off her sweat-stained jumpsuit and tossed it in the recycler, pulled on her nightshirt, and collapsed onto her bunk. The meeting with Jia-Lan and Martin had gone… if not well, at least without anyone shouting or getting thrown in the brig. Not that Pheidippides had a brig, but whatever. She’d assured them there would be no restriction of duties, other than as discussed with the doctor, and no repercussions regarding their files. It was life, as Dr. Melinkov had said, and it happened every day. She’d even wished them well, and told them once they were back at base, they’d throw a party for them. Whenever that might be.

  Murphy considered. The talk she’d had with the doctor regarding her feelings about Earthfleet kept drifting up. She’d enlisted after flunking out of med school, and they’d tried to put her right back in. But she tested out high in command ability, or as she said, “telling people what to do because I have a loud voice and I’m really tall”. Then, boom, she was given a ship right out of Academy. Well, after six months on board a frigate-class ship, directing a rescue operation that could have left half the crew dead, but didn’t. She’d even gotten a commendation.

  Now, in command of Pheidippides for nearly a year, her thoughts were entirely different. She’d remarked often about how small the frigate she served on was. Of course, that was before Pheidippides and its crew of fourteen. She knew every one of them damn near as well as she knew her family. Maybe even more so.

  I signed on for two years of scout duty. Can I stand another year of this smelly cabin? One more year of seeing no one but these thirteen other people, and weeks of no action, no real life? How the hell do officers get chosen for this type of service?

  She glanced at the chronometer. She needed sleep, but the stim-shot was still going full force. She sat up in her bunk and tried to meditate for a bit. No luck. She swung her long legs over the side and closed her eyes. She thought about her sister and brother, both in civilian work and successful in their careers. She thought about her parents, her dad still living, but her mom gone now for over ten years.

  Cancer. Even in the twenty-fifth century, it still crops up occasionally, and if not caught, is still a killer. Dammit.

  She laid her face in her hands and tried again to relax. Just… relax. At last, she lay down again and pulled the bedcover close, closing her eyes. She sighed.

  I miss you, Mom.

  * * *

  Lieutenant Hatu Gil sat in the command seat, watching the screen and mulling options. Taking the skiff to the object had b
een an off-the-cuff remark, but not really a bad one. Chief Thomas’s suggestion about using manual thrusters was certainly a valid point, and added strength to his suggestion. And like everyone on board, he had no idea what this thing was, how it got here, or what its purpose might be. But he was beginning to have ideas.

  First, it was masked, but only passively. Current Earthfleet sensors, especially the ones ships like Pheidippides carried, could track stealthed vessels with relative ease. The power output for stealth had made it nearly useless, and stealthing by masking electronics, sublight exhaust, and other dead giveaways were much more efficient now. The old-style mechanical cloaking was a thing of the past, and the improved Qoearc version quickly becoming so.

  Gil suspected this object was a prototype of some sort, either a monitoring station—it was certainly large enough to carry a semi-permanent crew—or a weapons testbed. Where better to try it out than a remote part of the I-Zone, where “incidents” occasionally happened and were seldom investigated fully. By either Earthfleet or the Qoearc “Defense Force”. He almost laughed at the name.

  He made mental notes as he continued monitoring the asteroid as it slowly tumbled. He knew Murphy would order a boarding party soon, likely when she returned to the Bridge. He shook his head slowly. He didn’t dislike Murphy, but she certainly wasn’t his favorite on board. But captains didn’t need to be popular, just good at what they did. Murphy was good at her job, if a bit immature. Being ten years her senior, though, made it easy for Gil to say.

  His post at Tactical was his idea of perfection in Earthfleet, though he’d not advanced in rank in over five years. He knew eventually he would, and they’d all be transferred to other assignments, all larger ships. Because there were no smaller ships in Earthfleet that actually carried out deep-space missions.

  Of course, that was assuming they all lived through the coming year on board Pheidippides. And survived whatever this thing they’d found really was.

  * * *

  “Duty Log, Lieutenant Commander Jennifer Murphy, 121017.15. After two days of monitoring with no additional EMP’s or other interference, I’ve decided to send a boarding team to the object… ship, whatever you want to call it.