by David Gunner
“Any luck?” Canthouse asked as he perched himself on the edge of the conference desk.
“He won’t do it,“ Stavener said. “He won’t go to the bridge or engineering for any reason.”
“Who won’t do what?” Palmer asked looking between the two men.
“I’m sorry. Paul this is …” He stared at Stavener, “I just realised I don’t know your first name.”
“It’s Tristram,” Stavener said.
“Paul this is Stavener, who, amongst other things, is our resident bandit expert and does something on the bridge.”
Stavener grinned satirically.
Palmer stared curiously.
Canthouse selected some data on his tablet and handed it to Palmer who studied as the first officer explained.
“To get you up to speed, The day we gated in here and realised what we were facing, I ordered the operations and engineering teams to find a way for us to see through this crap, but nothing worked. But then I remembered something the chief said in our last meeting, something about aligning magnetic fields to allow us to see. We tried every configuration we could think off but couldn’t get the maths to work, not even genius boy here,” Stavener tilted his head and scratched his temple in the manner of a dumb ape. “So I went to see him, but he completely blanked me. Not a word, no matter the coercion and it’s beyond me as to why. I sent Mr Stavener to speak to him, but he has apparently met with the same result.”
Stavener sat up in the chair, “He just refuses to acknowledge any responsibility to anyone but the commander. Says he’ll do it for him and no one else. Tells you to - Go see young Penton, he’ll see you right. If you try to order or threaten, he just slips into that world of his and you’ve lost him. He’s designed a kick arse medical scanner though.”
“So we have the answer but can’t access it?” Palmer asked quizzically. “Would you like me to speak to him?”
Stavener rubbed his eye as he said, “It’ll do no good as he just locks up to new faces.”
“So where does that leave us?” Palmer asked.
Canthouse pulled a chair from the table and reverse straddled it resting his arms on the back rest, “We have a few ideas, but the operable contender is using a launch as a manned probe to scout a path ahead, but there’s a whole bunch of problems related to this. Number one being the radiation. The launches have no shields so any crew will need to be suited up, but even then they get no more than two hours of protection and that’s if the radiation remains constant. I’ve asked engineering to harden the shuttle as much as possible and crew and launch preparations are under way.”
“Plus if we lose a shuttle we lose twenty percent of our life boat capability, and you know what we met the last time we ran into one of these clouds. If any of those super-fauna are trolling around the area then the shuttle will be doubly screwed. I personally believe this is what happened to the Dogfish.” Stavener said.
“You believe It was eaten?” Palmer said disbelievingly.
“If it was then I’m just glad we never launched it as a TOW device, as the last thing we want is one of those things following the fishing line back to the rod.” Canthouse said. “So, Paul, any ideas you can add to the pot will be gladly considered.”
Palmer nodded.
The men made to leave until Canthouse said, “Oh, and there’s another thing. With the loss of SPO, Guimar, we’ve now lost our entire original operations staff, which seriously reduces our operational effectiveness via experience. Stavener, I know you can handle the operations side, so you’re now an SPO and senior operations officer. Paul can fill in anytime he can with what he picked up from Guimar, but I need you to find others to fill the vacant slots and make sure they’re up to speed ASAP. Paul, same for you with the empty bridge command position.”
Palmer nodded thoughtfully. “I have some ideas.”
“I’m already an SPO. Can I be a Captain?” Stavener said.
“We need answers, so – “
Canthouse paused when he felt a low vibration through the souls of his feet. The other men felt it too, and they glanced about the room as the vibration increased to become a resonating tremor accompanied by a low hum that caused the chairs to ghost in circles and the water glasses to chatter on the table.
LC to the bridge. LC to the bridge. The intercom blared.
Canthouse stood followed by the others, “So bring me something.”
The three men ran onto the bridge to see the Bristol in plan view on the tactical display. Multiple cyclones wandered around her near vicinity, but the disturbing thing was the screen wide shadow that crept up from the bottom of the screen to slowly engulf the rear of the hull.
DuRant the temporary operations officer gladly stepped aside to allow Stavener to sit down.
The entire bridge rattled and creaked with the hum growing to annoying levels as Canthouse found the command chair, “Report.”
With only being a last minute stand-in who was tasked with sitting in the operations chair and reporting anything that appeared on the screen, a completely flustered DuRant pointed to the main viewer and said, “Ugh! There’s …um. There’s a large shadow on the screen and - ”
“There’s a large partly metallic mass approaching from the rear. Distance and size are undetermined as the magnetic estimator is either pegged or confused, but it’s definitely closing, and whatever it is it’s huge.”
“Stavener, I need more than I don’t know what or where it is. Do I need to move the ship?” An exasperated Canthouse cried.
“I don’t know as this thing is all around the rear quarters. It’s like trying to estimate an approaching fog cloud when you’re in a fog cloud. Wait!” Stavener stared intently as he worked his console.
The vibrations were causing things to shake loose and the hum had grown so people were yelling to each other.
Canthouse had the overpowering feeling of something looming over them and he glanced at the screen where the shadow had moved to cover a third of the ship. It looked like the sun cast silhouette of a domed cathedral creeping across a twilight plaza as it worked its way to the midpoint with the eerie deliberateness of a spread cloak vampire. Something inside him gave a sickly twitch, and then twitched again, and he realised it was his internal g-sensor telling him the ship was moving without power.
“Sir, we’re drifting,” the navigator said.
“Compensate.” Canthouse responded automatically.
The navigators face grew more and more frustrated as he applied a countering force but the alien attraction still increased.
“The thrusters are at their limit and we’re still drifting backwards.”
“Stavener!” Canthouse cried.
“Ok, ok. I’m … Oh Jesus! Move the ship. Move the ship now!”
“Which way, man?”
“Eh …on the Y …Zee, zed axis …down, takes us directly down, now!”
Despite being three meters away, Canthouse had to lean forward to make his shouts heard over the incredible seismic shuddering, “Navigation, sink the ship negative one thousand meters on the zee axis.”
The chemical engines burned into life to assist the overtaxed thrusters, and the Bristol staggered and swayed as if fighting her way upstream as the engines fought against the enormous attractive force. The gunship crept painfully forward and with the shadow now covering the entire hull, she began to pull away with the near seismic tremors subsiding as she descended. The shadow remained, but it somehow looked less imposing as if reduced to an after image.
“Zee minus one thousand meters,” the navigator said, adding, “More or less.”
“Ship status?” Canthouse asked working his chair console.
“Reports coming in now.”Stavener said. “Two racks collapsed in the forward torpedo room with a number of crush injuries reported. Enviromentals reports a helium mixer tank has broken free and is leaking with the room has been evacuated and sealed, and someone fell from an upper catwalk in engineering with possible spinal damage. Enginee
ring also reports a bus fracture in the speculative armour generator chain. Main armour is offline until the link is repaired, but there is still enough coverage to slow the radiation down, but just barely.”
“What was it?” Palmer asked from where he stood behind Stavener.
Stavener spread his hands and then interlaced the fingers in a show of futility, “I’ve no idea
From where he stood monitoring the operations console, Palmer looked across to the first officer who appeared pale and distraught as single finger despondently pecked at the arm console. He moved across to the command chair. “Malcolm, are you alright?”
Canthouse looked near tears as he slowly shook his head, “Paul, I can’t do it. I can’t send a launch to face whatever’s out there. I may as well shoot them myself. We’re losing too many people too easily and it won’t do.“
“Then we’ll need to think of an alternative. Maybe launch a pack of Dogfish and saturate the area …”
“No! The last creature had a quick appetite for ordinance and I don’t want to draw any unwanted attention. I see only one solution to this, and as distasteful as it is I need to do it.” Canthouse stood, “Paul take command. Speak to engineering and double check our ability to manoeuvre and gate out as we may be leaving in a hurry. Forego all other repairs in favour of a quick exit and defensive weapons.”
As Palmer watched Canthouse depart, he could only wonder what his commanding officer was up to.
***
Two thousand kilometres away something monstrous detected an anomaly and a prehistoric autopilot caused it to change direction without waking. For so long it had found nothing weaker or slower until a momentary tickling of scales time modified to detect the weakest electrical signals roused it from a deathly repose and an eye opened. After an age of dormancy it had detected sustenance of a favoured type, and it listened and tasted as it considered its surroundings. None dare approach as it slumbered for fear of its darts and venoms which rendered it an apex creature amongst monsters. The scarified flanks flashed with patterns of neon yellow and green giving it the appearance of a sea snake as it writhed and flexed itself back to life. With a final determination of what woke it, it opened its vast hooked jaw to separate dozens of great and terrible teeth, and with an easy undulation of the long slim body it turned in pursuit.
The old man paid no attention and dismissed the insistent man with a waved hand and a shake of the head as he concentrated on his work. But the man persisted. He told a story of a young woman. A woman refused the assistance she so desperately needed to protect her crewmates. A woman so distraught with her failures she was driven to take the ultimate step. The old man’s fingers eventually stopped, and he listened, and he believed, and he wept.
“How close?”
“Within a hundred and fifty meters,” Stavener said in a subdued tone so the other crew couldn’t hear.
“And that’s after the thousand meter descent?”
Stavener nodded. He looked oddly out of sort, even uncomfortable as he watched the replay on his display. The operations screen reran a review of the emergency descent with the model of the Bristol clearing the dark mass above, only for the object to pivot like a tumbling asteroid with a large ugly prominence sweeping down toward them to graze the outer edge of the e-band sensors before rotating away. Stavener had cropped the playing image so the infringed section of the sensors would not appear on the main screen.
“Christ!” Palmer said rubbing his chin.
“This is a true anomaly though,” Stavener said as he began to type. The image swept through several filters before settling on one that approximated the missing gaussmeter. “The last time we tried to manoeuvre in soup like this there were all these strange magnetic tendrils slowing us down, but no such thing this time. I mean they’re still there, but they’re not bothering us or impeding our movement to any degree.”
“Any ideas?”
“No. The chemical makeup of the soup is the same, and the local fabric all appears and acts the same, but virtually no drag. I don’t get it.”
“Could it have been the creature?”
“The creature only amplified the affect when close, but –“ Stavener leaned past Palmer to see who had entered the bridge.
Canthouse walked on to the bridge with Chief Engineer George Robertson following behind. The engineer looked mournful to the extreme, with his eyes and face a pallid red. However, he still managed a hearty smile on seeing his old shipmates, with his moustache doing its black bird impression. But behind the smiles and calls it was clear to see he was a wrecked and broken man.
On arriving at the operations console, the chief held out his hand and said, “Ow’ do, fellas.” With the gusto and sincerity of greeting a long missed brother even though he barely knew either of them.
Stavener gave Canthouse an inquiring look, but the first officer brushed it aside with a shake of the head.
“The LC says you’ve got a problem with some sensors not lettin’ you see, eh! Well, as I said to the commander, it’s all just a case of overlayin’ the targeting rings and fine tunin’ their interaction to bleed out the interference.” This time the chief overlaid his spread hands and moved them about so his fingers lined up and he winked at Stavener through them.
“Could you show us, Chief?” Stavener said standing.
Canthouse leaned in toward the engineer, “Erm, Chief, you mentioned something about being able to stop the radiation. Could you deal with that first.”
“Certainly.” The chief sat down and two arthritic fingers pecked at the keyboard until the shield generator configuration appeared. “Looks like someone has been having a go of their own,” he said peering myopically at the algorithm designed to hold the radiation back.
Stavener appeared to puff up with self-importance as he said, “Yeah, I was modifying one of Pentons’s algorithms and managed to increase the efficiency by 1.3 perce -”
“But this is all bollocks, this is,” the engineer said erasing the formula. “Now let’s see.” His rubbery face scrunched as alternate fingers pecked at the keyboard.
“I think young Penton made this. He’s a good mechanic, but bug eyed stupid when it comes to theory. I keep telling him you want to look at it two dimensionally at all times, but these young people never listen.” The chief gave a chuckling shake of the head.
Stavener made to defend his actions, but his words remained poised as he watched the algorithm take shape and his mouth slowly dropped open in amazement at the old man’s eloquence of form. He turned to Canthouse and whispered, “This is amazing! It’s a thing of beauty.”
“There.” The chief stabbed the enable key and the computer chewed on the new algorithm. Almost immediately the flashing radiation warnings stopped and the tactical display changed to represent no radiation intrusion.
“Excellent, Chief. And the sensors?” Canthouse said.
“Oh, aye. Those too.” The chief opened the navigation configuration. “Like this,” he said manipulating the controls, so instead of hunting about the screen the three targeting spirals formed a three layered sandwich, with each spiral turning independently until they achieved critical alignment, synchronised and rotated together. In an instant the majority of the fog within two thousand kilometres simply melted away with only the larger denser clouds still visible.
What greeted their eyes was a scene of utter destruction with the torn, exploded and shredded hulls of frigates, destroyers and carriers drifting about the area. Some appeared almost intact with others blasted into countless pieces. The bow of one battle ship had burst open so as to resemble a flowering orchid with the corvette that had driven deep inside the curiously militaristic stamen. However, what made the crew sink into their seats were the great dark forms that glided in and about this graveyard of wrecks and tortured metal. With some large eyed monstrosities peering from the holes in shattered hulls only to retreat inside the instant a larger creature approached.
The scream of the calamity alarm made al
l four men jump, with the chief shrinking in his seat with animalistic fear, his mouth wide and eyes crazed as he glanced terrified about the flashing command deck.
The bridge became a place of immediate action as all consoles demanded attention for the seemingly unending influx of data pouring in from the reconfigured sensors.
Palmer eased the chief out of the seat and to a side bench, where the old man insisted he really needed to leave as he had too much to do to just sit idly by. So and he left at a brisk gamble with his hands over his ears.
Canthouse cancelled the alarms, “Well, I guess that can only be good news and –“ The bridge shuddered as if from a parking shunt.
Ha-roo ha-roo ha-roo
He again cancelled the alarm.
“What the hell was that?”
“This!” Stavener said transferring an image to the main viewer.
The creature looked like a living corkscrew. Its body rippling with neon patterns and glyphs, with its head and neck spikes erect and quivering as it advanced upon them in an uncertain spiralling flutter.
The creature was confused. Its dart should have had an instant paralysing affect, but this strange thing seemed unphased and even more alive, so it spat another. The fifteen meter dart, a modified neck spine tipped with dense bone and containing a powerful neurotoxin, struck the center hull below the sensor tower scratching a ten centimetre deep groove before deflecting away.
“It’s spitting darts or spines at us. I think it’s trying to cripple us via some type of toxin.”
“just when you think it can’t get any stranger. Navigation, find us a way out of here. Tactical, status of weapons!” Canthouse cried.
“Sir, we have enough power for two rear turrets. All forward torpedo tubes are offline. All rear tubes are back online. The VLS system is limited to one launcher and all secondaries are on line. Speculative shielding is still offline.”