by C. R. Turner
“After you told me about your idea, a few weeks ago, I asked Warain the same question. I’m sorry Joel, we failed you. We should have sent people out after war criminals a long time ago. The truth is … we don’t have a good answer to that question, and I’m not about to give you any excuses.”
I give him a twisted smile. “I guess all that matters now is what we do from here. We can only go forward in time, so we best look where we’re going.”
Chapter 2
Back at the barracks, Sam and I sit on our rear veranda. The air holds onto the summer heat as Hati sets. Max is lying on the grass with his head raised and eyes half closed, while Jade is flaked out on her side with her head draped over Max’s front legs.
It’s a couple days before we head off-world, and as I gaze at the stars sharpening in the fading light, I think about all the planets that might be in the Timberwolf’s computer. There’d have to be some pretty wild places in such a huge catalogue. You could spend the rest of your life trying to visit them all. The Talon and Makri catalogues pale in comparison. I wonder what planet the Timberwolf is from? Obviously not a peaceful one to build such a massive battleship. Who knows how they’ll react when we return it? I only hope they’re appreciative.
I break from my trance when Sam asks, “Are you worried about the mission?”
“Yeah … I’m looking forward to it, but we’ve never spent as much time planning any of our previous missions as we have with this one.”
“It’s probably just a reflection on how little we know about the Timberwolf. Look how little planning went into Galistar. That was something else.”
I chuckle. “Yeah … I won’t forget that one in a hurry. ‘It’ll be simple’, they said. ‘In and out in a day. Just scuttle the old broken-down starship and you’re done’. Who would have thought that we’d break down too?”
“And then the SESS starship come to rescue us breaks down as well,” Sam says.
We crack up laughing.
Sam is still grinning when I ask, “Why do you think the Timberwolf was abandoned?”
“I don’t know. If what the salvage team say is true about finding the ghost ship floating in interstellar space, something pretty bad must have happened for the crew to abandon it.”
“Yeah … and not return for a brand-new ship.”
Standing on the tarmac, I take in the Union’s newest addition – the first Explorer-class starship, which has been decades in the making. It’s painted traditional gunmetal grey with black “TPU” lettering on the side and “Cosmic Origin” painted in scroll lettering on the aft end. When the energy canons retract flush with the hull, you could be forgiven for thinking it’s just a modern freight ship. Roughly seven hundred feet long, it’s slightly smaller than most freight ships. Its smooth lines give the impression it’s extremely fast, as if it could punch a hole in the sky without breaking a sweat.
I turn to see Pisano heading toward me, still with a nasty limp after all this time.
He looks the ship over. “She’s a beauty. I wish I was coming with you.”
I smile. The butterflies in my stomach have already started, and Pisano’s presence makes me think about the high attrition rate of the striker forces.
My nausea builds.
Pisano places his hand on my shoulder. “It’s time.”
The hangar’s a hive of activity after the mission briefing with people running around in the usual last-minute panic. Pisano bends as best he can with his prosthetic leg to pick up Max’s saddle. I wait patiently, wanting him to feel helpful. He struggles to get low enough to pick it up, but finally gets it and hands it to me. I return his smile.
After Sam and I finish saddling Max and Jade, we meet at the table where all our gear has been laid out by our support crew. We’re both in our black striker force uniforms. I pull my MOSAR scarf out, hold it by the corners and tie it around my neck. Sam grabs her Ashra and slings it over her back alongside her backpack. I pick up mine and check it’s fully charged before slinging it. We insert our Core-link earpieces and fit our wrist devices. I grab a couple of energy grenades. The only thing left from our past life is my father’s knife.
Pisano hands us Max and Jade’s reins and we catch up with the rest of the team at the front of the hangar. Although Sam and I have been recently certified and have completed a dozen missions off-world, it still feels surreal having people wait on us hand and foot. As we walk toward the starship, support crews, technicians and soldiers stand about watching us. I swallow hard, feeling as if I’m caught up in a huge whirlwind – an unstoppable force.
I take in our strange surroundings as we walk up the ramp. Although the ship is new, it doesn’t appear to be that much more advanced than other Union ships I’ve been on. Sam and I are shown to the stables. In contrast to the ageing Union fleet, the corridors don’t have a single scratch or dent, and most of the surfaces still have their protective plastic covers on them from pre-construction. There’s a strong smell of chemicals and paint. The walls that have had their protective covers removed are a glossy new facade I’ve never seen before – black hexagons with charcoal-grey borders finished with chrome screws. After settling Max and Jade in the stables, we catch up with the rest of the team who are entering a lift. A crew member selects the bridge level, six floors up.
When the doors traverse open, I’m taken aback. The ship’s far more advanced than anything the Union’s had previously, and I wonder how much of the technology is from the Makri. In the dimly lit bridge, holographic projections surround the flight crew who type away at their consoles, preparing the ship for flight. The front of the bridge provides a two-hundred-and-seventy-degree view.
Bradley reads my face. “What’s wrong, mate?”
I inhale heavily. “We’re about to commandeer an alien ship-of-war and return it to its port of origin.”
“We’ll be alright. You watch … we’ll be showered with gifts and praise for returning it.”
We both chuckle. Bradley rarely smiles or laughs, but when he does, it’s infectious.
The surrounding spaceport falls away as we rotate skyward – the only indication the ship just took off. The inertial dampeners and artificial gravity mean we don’t feel a thing. There’s no heavy industrial humming sound, like the Union starships of old, or even the faint humming of Makri starships, just silence. The ship’s streamlined bow mists the air as we accelerate, unquestionably breaking the sound barrier.
The SESS specialists have congregated at the rear of the bridge and are chatting as Sam and Marcus look over the crew’s shoulders. From what Marcus has told us, he’s been working around the clock to help get the new Explorer-class starships off the ground. The new technologies have left everyone scrambling to keep up with the advancements. Sam takes everything in her stride though. With her razor-sharp mind, I have no doubt she’ll be a leader in the SESS Division one day.
As we reach space, I stand with Bradley, Emerson, Hawkins and Taylor as the flight crew execute the dive. The Bridgeport engages and we’re plunged into darkness.
When we emerge, the lean crescent of Barchee is dead ahead, along with the star it orbits. Maybe I’m getting used to the dives, but that felt quicker than usual, not such an assault on the senses.
As we approach Barchee from the dark side, I wonder why it’s uninhabited. Is it like Hikaru, where any humans have been killed off, or some new hell? The thin crescent slowly morphs into a circular palette of earthly colours as we cross the planet’s terminator. The oceans are beautiful – deep blues and aqua, covering roughly half the planet. The continents are nearly all red deserts – sand, and lots of it. A few areas have a light covering of browns and greens.
“EMR scan,” Bradley orders.
I wouldn’t count on an electromagnetic radiation scan detecting any signs of civilisation on Barchee. It looks like a dead planet. I guess it might tell us if the Timberwolf has already arrived though.
“Neg-ret, sir,” replies one of the flight crew.
S
am and Marcus join me at the forward windscreens.
“How long till the Timberwolf arrives?” I ask.
“By my calculations … a day or two,” Marcus replies, not breaking his stare at Barchee.
Sam and I walk through the corridors, exploring the new ship with Max and Jade in tow. Every previous mission we’ve been on has had its moments of boredom as we wait around with no duties to fulfil – typically punctuated with moments of sheer terror. I’ve learned to take the boredom and make the most of it. I think it helps balance the high stress that comes with the job.
We make our way to the cargo bay, where two Hurricanes are docked. One has a roof-mounted energy canon, and the other is covered in aerials. The rear of both Hurricanes are stocked with weapons, food, and anything else that can fit. Unlike the rest of the ship, the cargo bay has no fancy facade. It’s utilitarian, well lit, with hundreds of bright yellow tie-down points, removable floor panels and winches built into the walls. The floor is coated in a sand-like paint for grip.
“Do you want to go check out the particle collider?” Sam asks, a twinkle in her eyes.
“Yeah.” Not that I even know what that is.
We come to two large doors with “Authorised Personnel Only” in huge black lettering across them.
“Maybe we shouldn’t—”
Sam presses the touch panel, and it turns red, displaying a locked door sign.
“Miller, what are you doing?” Bradley’s voice comes over the Core-link.
“We just wanted to take a look at the new collider,” Sam replies.
I follow Sam’s stare to a tiny camera above the door.
“It’s unlocked.”
Sam hits the touch screen again. The doors traverse open, and we’re hit by escaping hot air. A solid humming emanates from the room, which looks like the very heart of the ship. A massive torus-shaped machine, several hundred feet in diameter is just below the platform we’re on. By the sheer size of it, I’m guessing that’s the bulge visible from the outside of the ship. Sam’s face is lit up like a kid in a candy store. Max stamps his front paws, not wanting to go any further, while Jade has frozen, her eyes wide and ears pricked. I’m with them; this doesn’t seem like a smart place to be standing.
“What?” Sam asks.
“Should we be in here when this thing’s running?” I ask.
“It’s perfectly safe. It’s essentially just a giant superconductor.”
“Okay … what’s it for?” I ask.
“Hydrogen protons are stripped of their electrons by electrical fields. The vacuum of space is used to create a vacuum within the torus core and help maintain the radiofrequency cavities’ superconducting state. The protons pass through the radiofrequency cavities, millions of times, until they reach near the speed of light. The gravitons resulting from the collisions are fed into the graviton-multiplier, and their energy is used to drive the ship’s artificial gravity, canons and Bridgeport.”
I smile. I was born to be a paramedic, but Sam definitely belongs in the SESS. I can’t picture her doing anything else. Although, I think they need to give her something harder to do. What that is, I have no idea.
Crew banter wakes me. I’ve dozed off in the bridge, using my paramedic’s backpack as a pillow.
Bradley sees me rubbing the imprint of zippers and pockets on my face. “Why don’t you go down to the crew quarters and get some sleep?”
I yawn. “Nah … I’m good.”
It’s been days since arriving at Barchee, and I’ve been hearing chatter, people wondering if the Timberwolf has even survived Tet. I don’t know the first thing about black holes, but I can imagine the ship being torn to pieces by unfathomable forces.
I stand at the forward windscreens looking out into the emptiness of space. Out there, in the darkness, a bright flash of light makes me flinch, and a commotion breaks out behind me as alarms sound.
“Contact, bearing three, one, two by one two …” the crew are in a fluster. I drop my jaw as the Cosmic Origin starts heading toward a vessel that’s appeared ahead of us.
“Is that the Timberwolf?” I ask.
I break my stare to find Sam, Bradley and Hawkins by my side.
Marcus joins us. “That’s the Timberwolf.”
I glance over at Marcus, widening my eyes in panic. “And what the hell is that behind it?”
By Marcus’ silence, I’m guessing he’s not even sure.
“Is that what I think it is?” Bradley asks.
Marcus frowns, looking even more dumbstruck than the rest of us. “It’s a black hole!”
“What?” Bradley asks. “Are we in any danger? Why couldn’t we see it before?”
Behind the Timberwolf, the black hole is sucking the burning surface gasses off a bright blue star, spiralling them into a blue accretion disc.
“What are we seeing?” Sam asks, her voice jumping up an octave.
“I’m guessing it’s Tet’s star and its neighbouring black hole.” Marcus’ mouth opens and closes a few times, as though the link to his brain has been severed. “I … I think we’re seeing through the Bridgeport into the other system … Tet.”
“What? How is that even possible?” Sam asks.
“When the Bridgeport activates, it essentially uses gravitons to displace time and space,” Marcus replies. “It’s that displacement that the ship travels through. It’s why you lose your hearing and sight when you dive. I think when the Timberwolf activated the Bridgeport to dive to Barchee it … I …”
“Could time dilation be causing the effect we’re seeing?” Sam asks.
Marcus nods. “Yeah. That could well be the cause. The dive is normally so fast you don’t see anything, you only feel the effects of it.”
Bradley looks over his shoulder. “We’re still in the Barchee system, right?”
“We’re still in the Barchee system, sir. Our position hasn’t changed,” replies one of the flight crew.
“This is amazing!” Marcus turns to the flight crew. “Are all the forward cameras recording?”
“Pos, sir.”
As the Timberwolf draws nearer, the star and black hole start disappearing behind what looks like an iris made from the black emptiness of space. You can physically see the Bridgeport collapsing. Finally, the black hole and star are gone.
The Timberwolf is covered in artillery and aerials, and has a huge fighter bay just forward of amidships. Some of the guns have three barrels mounted on turrets that look like massive graviton canons that could destroy a ship with a single blast. There’d be no sneaking up on this monster vessel. The ship’s surface is covered with irregular-shaped beige panels – an odd colour to paint a ship-of-war. Roughly half the ship’s lights are on, and it appears to be fully operational. Hundreds of clustered windows sit just behind the fighter bay – crew quarters? The ship must be able to house tens of thousands of people. I wonder where they all went? If there’s anyone still aboard?
As we get closer, the Timberwolf fills the forward windscreens. The Cosmic Origin feels like a child’s toy against the colossal ship.
“Bloody hell!”
I look at Bradley. He hardly ever curses.
Marcus adds, “She’s something else.”
Sam’s mouth is wide open. We fly past a circular structure on top of the ship, just aft of amidships – the bridge by the looks of it. The Timberwolf is roughly twice as wide as the Cosmic Origin is long. I shake my head in disbelief. Any race that has this kind of power to wield could dominate the galaxy. A wariness comes over me, reminiscent of being in the hangar before my first mission off-world, a feeling of being in way over my head. What are the chances such a race would be benevolent? How are they going to react when we return their property?
“Take us back around to the fighter bay,” Bradley orders. “Stinson, Miller, saddle up.”
Here we go.
Sam and I head to the stables, lost in our own thoughts. Before we left Terra Primus, Sam was excited about seeing the ghost ship, an alien s
hip of unknown origin, but now she’s gone all quiet and isn’t making eye contact – clearly stressed. Understandable. The thought of what could be inside the Timberwolf has my stomach in knots too.
When we get to the rear cargo bay, Marcus and the rest of SF Raptor are waiting. A voice comes over the Core-link, “Cosmic Origin has touched down. Fighter bay is still pressurised.”
Bradley signals to Marcus, who enters a command on one of the Cosmic Origin’s touch panels, and the rear door opens revealing the Timberwolf’s fighter bay. There’s a small hiss of air, and my ears pop when the pressure equalises. What the hell? All that’s standing between us and the emptiness of space is presumably some sort of invisible force field. We must have flown straight through it before landing. It never ceases to amaze me – the things people build, the intellect it would take. I haven’t even stepped off the Cosmic Origin’s ramp yet and I’m in awe of this great ship.
Sam and I ride Jade and Max down the ramp while the flight crew unstrap the Hurricanes. There are no fighter aircraft in the bay. I’m not sure what that means. I can’t get over the size of the ship. The seven-hundred-or-so-foot-long Cosmic Origin easily fits inside the fighter bay, which is open at both the port to starboard sides of the ship. That would have to make the Timberwolf roughly fifteen hundred feet wide.
Bradley starts up one of the Hurricanes, and Taylor and Marcus jump in. Emerson climbs in the driver’s seat of the other Hurricane, which has the roof-mounted energy canon, with Hawkins in the passenger’s side. Both four-wheel drives come barrelling down the ramp. As Bradley pulls away, he signals for us to follow. When we make it to a door that’s roughly thirty feet wide by twenty feet high, Marcus jumps out and approaches a control panel to the side. The door slides open, revealing a wide road – it even has lines painted down the middle. That must be the motorway Marcus designated the M1. The Hurricanes’ powerful headlights beam down the dark M1 as the vehicles drive onward. I glance over my shoulder at the Cosmic Origin and the flight crew. Sam and Jade take off and I nudge Max into a run. There are lights on throughout the ship, but much of it is still in darkness. My view over the roofs of both four-wheel drives stretches for hundreds of feet before the headlights dissipate. We pass dozens of doors, walkways and smaller roads. Who knows what we’ll find in here? There could be a whole army hidden within, and we wouldn’t know till it’s too late.