The Chance Encounter: The Linda Eccles Series - Book One

by Robert Woodard

  “It’s coming from this object?” Linda asked. Her face tightened into a frown of concern.

  “It’s coming from this object,” Marcy mimicked while nodding her head in confirmation.

  “This thing has to be a monitoring device of some kind,” Linda said as she turned her head to look at the object out the front portals.

  “That would be my guess, too,” Sharon said. “This thing has been spying on us, and it is sending out a signal to someone letting them know we are here.”

  “But who?” Linda asked. “Marcy said there are no energy readings coming from that planet. To receive the message, there would have to be some trace of energy output.”

  “I don’t think the message is being sent to the planet,” Marcy said. “I think it is being transmitted beyond the planet and only a portion of the tight-beam wave is striking the planet’s surface and rebounding back at us,” Marcy said. She raised her eyebrows at her in what Linda took as her way of saying, “Oh yeah!”

  “Marcy, how long have you been on the bridge?”

  “Not overly long, Captain.”

  Linda knew that Marcy was not being truthful about having been on the bridge for two consecutive shifts. “You look tired. I think you need to get some rest.”

  “I’m okay, Captain.”

  “I can make it an order if you like,” Linda said, raising her eyebrows for effect.

  “I’m leaving,” Marcy said. She pulled off the headset and set it on the console. She then got up and made her way off the bridge.

  Linda found it amusing that the Communication Specialist immediately took possession of the chair. She suspected that the Specialist had no intention of letting Marcy change her mind and return to take over the communication duties.

  By the time Linda made it to the command chair her smile had faded. The thought of this alien object sending out a warning message ever since the Privateer arrived proved unsettling. Whoever was the receiver of that message already had a head start on deciding what to do about it. Unless she missed her guess, Linda suspected her ship was going to be targeted much like the probe. If these aliens, whoever they were, did not like the probe being here, they sure were not going to be receptive to her ship.

  Studying the tactical display over the nav station, she ordered, “Nav, set a course for three-three-zero. Ahead, one-half.”

  “Setting course to three-three-zero, ahead one-half, yes, Captain.”

  The object ahead of the ship appeared to move right, as the bow of the Privateer swung left to come around into the new course. The deck began to vibrate as the propulsion system fired. Linda was tempted to order full-ahead but decided on the lesser speed to avoid alarming the crew to any potential danger. Plus, the Privateer was tired, so keeping from stressing out the propulsion units seemed wise. When the ship finally completed its turn, she felt the vibration as the units increased thrust to get the Privateer up to speed.

  How could I have been so stupid? The entire time I was sitting here enjoying the view that damn object was spilling all it knew about us. Damn, I sure screwed up on this one.

  Switching the camera view on the left monitor to rear projection, Linda watched the object slowly fade away into the dark.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sinska watched the prey ship slowly moving away from the buoy, which left him in a quandary as to what to do about it. His orders were to prevent its escape. Rotating one eye onto tracking, he wished the other ships would show up to take ownership of that part for him. The thought of tackling this prey ship with his nearly toothless Tail Whip was not settling well with him.

  As the ship turned, it afforded a total view of the entire ship’s design. The upper section stopped short of the bubbled section, and its front edge tapered back that seemed to Sinska to suggest they wanted to keep as much of the area behind it as clear as possible, but the answer as to why escaped him. He could see that his assumption that the ship ran straight back from the wings and the upper section held true. The bottom section of the ship flared out slightly and when the ship had completed the turn, he could see it was to allow more room for the two large exhaust ports.

  “I wonder what those upper doors are for?” Bresk’s asked. He took up a position off Sinska’s right side and just slightly behind him.

  The large transparent sections looked like larger versions of his own side doors used to push out buoys. Sinska could look directly into the ship through them, and he could see movement inside, but the distance between the ship and the buoy was too great to see any details of what the creatures looked like.

  Returning his focus onto his orders, Sinska said, “The Council has directed me to detain the prey ship until our other ships arrive.”

  “In what manner, Overlord?”

  “They neglected to provide that part.” Sinska could hear the heavy sarcasm in his own words, and he hissed his annoyance. “I am to use whatever method I deem appropriate.”

  Sinska knew that the longer he delayed the more distance this prey would put between them, but he didn’t like the thought of tangling with something he knew nothing about. If tangling with the first object had brought this ship, what awaited him when he tangled with it, he wondered—a fleet of ships?

  “Orders, Overlord?” Bresk asked.

  While Sinska would have preferred to order Bresk to break off contact and head for Kracks, he knew that option did not exist for him. The only thing he could think of doing right now was to begin following them and see what developed.

  “Okay, Underlord, it is time to stop hiding and take up the hunt,” Sinska said with more bravado than he really felt. “Send a message to the Council that we are breaking contact to engage the prey ship that is showing signs of leaving Remp.”

  “At once, Overlord,” Bresk replied. He headed for the communication station.

  Swinging both eyes onto the navigation overling, Sinska ordered, “Swing us around, Overling. Ahead full. Keep us aligned to the buoy until the message is sent, and then begin tracking at shortage distance to get on the tail of this prey ship.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Contact bearing one-one-four! Course two-three-three relative; speed is 45,000 kilometers-per-hour! It is definitely a ship!”

  Linda flinched when the excited voice of the Specialist filled the bridge. The main viewer switched to the location of the new contact, but it remained hidden in the dark. The ship didn’t appear to have any lights on that would help to pick it out of the darkness beyond. The computer-controlled external camera projected at full magnification, but the object was just a lighter shadow meshing with the darkness behind it. If the sensor hadn’t picked it up, Linda knew it would have remained hidden to the fact it now followed them.

  Seeing how the alien ship was overtaking the Privateer by 15,000 kilometers-per-hour, Linda’s first thought was to order the Privateer to increase speed to standard, which would bring her own ship to 45.000 kilometers per hour, but just like the object floating in this section of space, the significance of encountering an alien ship gave her pause.

  “Comm, notify Commander Launtra that he is to report to emergency control, immediately,” Linda ordered.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  It only took a couple of minutes before Bill reported that he had taken up station in emergency control. And regardless of Sharon’s faults, Linda found it comforting to have her XO by her side. When thinking things through, she found it helpful to speak them aloud to someone.

  “I think we now know who was receiving the message,” Linda said. “The sneaky bastard was probably just lying in wait behind that damn planet while observing us this entire time.”

  “They are overtaking us, Captain, should I order an increase in speed?” Sharon asked.

  “Not yet. I’m going to let them close in a bit. I want to get a good look at them, as well as a solid sensor reading. This is a historic moment, and that information could probe vital.”

  Glancing up at Sharon, Linda could see the frown on her fa
ce. She obviously did not agree with Linda’s decision to let the ship get any closer.

  “What are you thinking, Commander?” Linda said to urge her to speak her mind.

  “If this ship is the same one that destroyed the buoy, will we be next?”

  “I understand your concern, and it’s a valid one. If they show even the slightest bit of aggression, we’ll scoot out of here so fast those aliens will wonder if we were ever here at all.”

  “You mean more than chasing us?” Sharon said.

  Returning her attention back to the monitors, Linda studied the blurry ship that was just starting to separate itself from the background darkness while also taking in Sharon’s concerns.

  “If this ship is responsible for the destruction of the probe, do you think it’s wise to allow it to come within range of whatever weapon it used?” Sharon asked.

  “I think this ship is going to find we are not quite as easy a target as the probe proved to be. Our shields are considerably stronger, we can travel at a much higher speed, and if worse comes to worse, we can fire back to aid in our escape.”

  “Wouldn’t it be more prudent to keep our distance and get out of here? After all, those are our orders.”

  “Your concern is noted, Commander,” Linda responded. “I have no plan on allowing that ship to get any closer than is necessary to get a good reading on it. I don’t like it any more than you do that this ship just happens to make it presence known the moment we decide to leave.”

  Linda went quiet, and so did Sharon. Time seemed to move slowly as an hour passed, followed by another fifty minutes. The other ship slowly gained ground over the vast distance it had to cover in order to reach the Privateer. Linda was content to let it play catch-up, while her ship made steady progress toward the jump point.

  The alien vessel’s 45,000 kilometers-per-hour speed placed it well below the Privateer’s top speed of 60,000 kilometers-per-hour. Unless the alien craft could produce more speed, Linda knew she could easily outpace them if the need came for it.

  Sharon had taken up a position just off to Linda’s left, where she now leaned cross-armed against the end of the railing. She seemed content watching the alien ship’s slow approach. Although, Linda supposed that traveling at an overtake rate of 15,000 kilometers-per-hour could not really be considered a slow approach, but the distance between them made it appear that way.

  “From this distance, their ship looks like an approaching submarine. At least the ones they used in World War II,” Sharon finally said.

  Staring at the monitor, Linda tried to envision the image. Cocking her head sideways slightly, she tried to recollect what a submarine looked like. It had been a long time since she had seen a picture of one from her history lessons in her school days. The effort to match the images brought back childhood memories of lying in the soft, cool grass in her back yard while staring up at clouds and trying to guess at their shapes. That had been before the bullies. Linda quickly pushed that last thought away. She had no desire to let that bubble up again.

  Sharon’s perspective of the alien ship did remind Linda of an old diesel submarine, if she remembered them correctly. From the bow-on view, the ship looked oval, being wider than tall. Unlike the submarine picture she could recall, this alien ship was flat on the top and bottom, almost like someone had stepped on it. Poking up from the top, a narrow section could be seen. It looked similar to the tower of a submarine. She thought it was called a conning tower, if her memory served her correctly.

  “Yes, it does look like a submarine,” Linda finally agreed, “Kind of.”

  Another thirty minutes passed by, and the front of the alien ship began to take form under the strong magnification of the imager. Just above the flattened bottom Linda could see rounded ports with hatch coverings over them. With the thought of a submarine still stuck in her mind, they reminded her of torpedo tubes. The fact that those ports pointed directly at her ship proved unsettling. She made up her mind that if any one of those forward hatches began to open, the Privateer was going to full speed.

  Linda decided to allow another thirty minutes for the alien ship to close in, while giving the sensors the opportunity to get a solid reading. While she was all for first encounters and science and such, she was against getting her ass flamed by an angry alien.

  While time clicked away in the relative quiet of the bridge, Linda focused on all the sounds and vibrations that had become second nature to her now. Even though the cushion of her chair absorbed much of the propulsion vibration that radiated through the decking, she could still feel it against her feet as they rested on the metal footrest of the chair.

  The chair reminded her of those used in beauty salons—padded on the seat and back rest, with a solid chromed railing along the bottom for her feet. The duro-plastic arm rests contained padding on the top for comfort. The control arm mounted to the base of the right armrest, where it could be moved up and down as needed.

  Off to her right, she could hear the occasional light clicking made by the damage control board, as it routinely cycled through the various ship functions to validate their status. Above her head, a ventilation fan sounded like its blades were striking something. She made a mental note to add that to her repair report, so someone could quiet it down.

  Turning her attention back to the monitor, she could see that the additional 30-minutes had finally passed. Studying the details of the alien ship, she noticed that there were no observation ports anywhere on the ship, or they were so small as to not be visible in the distance. Who would want to fly around without a visual view of the world in front to them? Linda shrugged to herself in answer.

  “Increase speed to standard. Maintain current course,” Linda ordered.

  “Increasing to standard, yes, Captain,” the Nav Specialist responded.

  Linda noticed Sharon straighten up at the order, and she suspected her XO was thinking it was about time. Linda supposed she could not blame Sharon, either. Nothing in this place seemed right and getting out of here made perfect sense.

  “Comm, have Lieutenant Ladd report to the bridge.”

  “Yes, Captain,” the Comm Specialist said.

  Keeping a close watch on tactical, Linda checked to see if the alien vessel increased speed. So far, tactical did not show any speed change in their pursuer. It was not long before Linda became convinced that the alien ship had already reached its maximum speed. Sighing lightly, she relaxed.

  ◆◆◆

  Rebecca Ladd swore softly as she fought to worm her hand through the multitude of wires, circuitry and conduits in an effort to reach a relay switch that some idiot designer had put into the most inconvenient location. Unlike the more modern shuttles, the older Mark IV did not have the forward access panels built into the main dash assembly. The only access inside the dash was from underneath, and this infuriated her to no end. Giving up, she pulled her hand back out to rest her arm.

  “You’ll be sorry you caused me all this trouble when I get back to Rap and hand you over for scrap metal, you worthless piece of crap,” Rebecca said aloud while lying on her back staring up at the dash.

  Shaking her head in frustration, Rebecca couldn’t believe her bad luck in having the relay for the portside stabilizer sensor go out on the return trip. Even though they were done with the shuttles, someone still had to pilot them off the ship and over to wherever the port commissioner assigned them. The sensor fed critical leveling information back to the pilot upon landing and take-off, and it kept the pilot from having to guess the distance of both skids from the ground. Coming down too hard on one skid could collapse the entire works, and that could get someone killed. Rebecca would never let something like that happen to one of her pilots, especially when replacing a simple part could help prevent it.

  With renewed determination, Rebecca tried again. Her middle finger made contact with the metal casing that contained the relay switch. Bouncing her finger around the casing, she worked her hand along the part like a starfish encasing a c
lam.

  “Becca, you’re wanted on the bridge.”

  Rebecca jumped at the sudden sound, causing her to lose her grip on the part. Pulling her hand back out, and sighing heavily, she dropped her head to one side and stared into the eyes of Elly, one of her tech specialists. Resisting the urge to lambaste the poor girl, she silently swore to herself instead.

  What in the world do they want me for?

  Wiggling her way out of the cockpit, and then crawling out of the side hatch to come to her feet, she turned to look into the opening of the shuttle. Elly stood at her side, and when Rebecca looked up at the tall, lanky woman, it made her wonder why she didn’t have her replace the part with her longer arms and skinnier fingers.

  “Get your skinny ass in there and put those long arms of yours to good use replacing that relay switch.”

  “Sure, Becca.”

  Rebecca made her way out of the bay and to the nearest turbo-lift. She soon arrived onto a quiet bridge. Hesitating for a moment, she noticed that Linda and Sharon were staring up at the monitors in front of them. Checking out what they were so intently studying, she could see the outline of another ship, and the sight surprised her. She just stared at it for a few seconds before realizing why she was called to the bridge.

  She quickly walked over to Linda, and asked, “You wanted to see me, Captain?”

  “Lieutenant, Commander Launtra has been working with you on crewing emergency control. Is this correct?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Do you feel competent enough in your training to take over that station now?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Very well. Please head for emergency control and relieve Commander Launtra. Have him notify me as soon as you relieve him. That is all, Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Rebecca said. She felt like a parrot repeating the same thing over and over.

  Rebecca turned and gladly left the bridge. While in the turbo-lift, and again while walking in the passageway, doubts crept in on her. Was she really ready to be in charge of emergency control? What if she ended up having to control the ship on her own? Should she have told the Captain she was not ready, instead? The more the questions came, the less ready she felt.