Spaceship Struggles

by Ingo Potsch

  But no matter the origin of its name, the patrol gunship was in the Panthers’ Cross Crest Funnel end getting sucked further into a direction where she objected to go, for she had nothing to do there. By ‘kind of’ pulling the plug, the temporary default skipper made the vessel descend from hyperspace; to use the euphemistic description. The less goodwill-enhancing though more accurate narration of the event would rather read like this: The vessel was ejected from hyperspace with great violence and maintained structural integrity by a great amount of good luck. By the same generous serendipity the crew remained unhurt, disregarding mild abrasions, bruises, and a few other smaller injuries.

  Getting out of the Panthers’ Cross Crest Funnel was only part of the trick, though, for the patrol gunship had to return back, too. Given that the travel through the surrounding hyperspace was taking much longer, the default skipper decided to re-enter the Funnel and use if for the return-path, too, as it was navigable in two directions. It just mattered how an entrant moved upon approaching, for the determined the direction of conveyance support which the drilled-up dimensional current provided.

  Despite being just a neophyte in that kind of navigation, and a fairly rough one on top of that, the default skipper managed to get the petrol gunship back into the Panthers’ Cross Crest Funnel again; without breaking her and without losing any of his crew, with minor blood-letting again disregarded.

  The patrol gunship had covered but half of the distance back to the Mandana when she almost leapt clear of the Panthers’ Cross Crest Funnel again. This time, to all understanding, the poor emergency commander was innocent. All the astronauts who had been standing were thrown flat, and anyone who wasn’t buckled-up was driven against the bulkheads. Then another shock followed, clearly perceptible above the pulsations of the Panthers’ Cross Crest Funnel’ twisted forces, and the little packet dipped her nose in between strong force lines, almost immediately shook herself clear, and resumed her mad pelt.

  "What's up, Florent?" exclaimed the petty officer at the weapons’ station.

  "Do not know," replied the coxswain. "Guess we've bumped against something."

  Then, the dread possibility that he had run dawn his own skipper entering his mind, he decided to return and investigate. At the spur of the moment, he thought little of the very low probability that his commander would be out here, with only a space suit which wasn’t going to keep him for long in the superposed dimension, and light years from the place where they lost him.

  Having had but little experience in the use of the reversing-gear, Florent slammed the lever hard-to. With a sickening jerk, as if the little craft were parting amidships, the patrol gunship dropped out of hyperspace and then again ascended, gathering speed sternway. A minute later she backed into a large and ever-expanding cloud of iridescent hyperspace micro swirls which typically resulted from two dimensional force fields colliding, through which slowly weakening reverberations were forcing their way, indicating that something had left hyperspace here, as the injured membrane between the dimensions was swinging in effect.

  "By all the seven heavens!" exclaimed one of the crew; "Bet a fortune that we haven rammed a damned enemy."

  The man had spoken truly. An Aesuron supply vessel, acting independently of the raiding-squadron, had detected the Mandana, at a distance of just a little under four light years. Unaware of the presence of the patrol gunship - and the detection of a patrol gunship or a mine sweeper usually gave the Aesuron supply vessels a good reason to alter course, too her captain had taken a preliminary bearing of the Human Nation destroyer’s position and vector prior to entering the Panthers’ Cross Crest Funnel in order to get quickly out of missile range. Having judged himself to bel quite clear of the enemy’s sensor range, the Aesuron skipper ordered his supply vessel to enter the hyperspace pathway and run at top speed. His ship was carrying munitions, spares, food, and the relief crew for a cruiser which was operating deep inside the Human Nation’s territory.

  Just a couple of seconds before the critical moment he heard the typical thud of the pulsating dimensional force field of the swiftly-moving patrol gunship. He attempted to get his transporter out of the way, but it was too late. This hyperspace funnel was very narrow, just like everything in the superposed dimension appeared smaller than outside in normal space. This enabled super-fast travel but also increased the frequency of encounters. The powerful force fields of the craft collided, and perhaps even their hulls actually got in contact with each other. Some power had been sufficient to damage even the vessel’s protective outer plating. Before steps could be taken to stop the descent from hyperspace, the supply vessel was doomed. Dropping out, she left that tell-tale reverberation which her accidental hunter then detected. Florent, astronaut first, and warrior next, gave little thought to his involuntary act. The safety of his temporary command came foremost.

  "Check for damages, all stations!" he ordered.

  The astronauts, who had been thrown around repeatedly by the concussion which had haunted them in rapid succession till the moment their over-motivated officer had felt the need to show off, hurried to do the needful.

  "Is she having any defects?" enquired Florent anxiously, as he eagerly waited for the returned of the reports. He wanted to take charge of the helm again and proceed to fetch his captain from the dangers of outer space.

  "Nothing much worse off than before," was the reassuring reply which finally summed up the results coming in from all stations. "Whack her up, mate!" shouted the other space warriors.

  The command master chief petty officer proceeded to order full speed ahead, and the patrol gunship hurried back to the Mandana in order that the news of her skipper's disappearance might be reported.

  To the surprise of the patrol gunship's crew they discovered their junior lieutenant on the bridge of the destroyer next to that vessel’s skipper standing aft and telling the patrol gunship to come alongside.

  It was easier said than done. The command master chief petty officer's faith in his capabilities as helmsman was weak, notwithstanding his resolution. At the first shot he carried too much way, reversing engines when the powerful craft was five light seconds ahead of the destroyer. The second attempt found him a like distance short, with no way on the vessel. At the third he finally made it and succeeded in hauling alongside the Mandana.

  "We've just rammed another ship in the Panthers’ Cross Crest Funnel, sir," reported the command master chief petty officer after having properly saluted. “If she wasn’t one of ours, then she was an Aesuron vessel.” He delivered the information in a matter-of-fact manner, as if destroying enemy craft in this fashion were an everyday occurrence. There had only been indications of some other ship having been there in the funnel, too, and having dropped out of hyperspace. If that other vessel had been destroyed in the incident was yet unconfirmed, though.

  Junior Lieutenant Lautier having regained his command, the Patrol gunship piloted the Mandana to the scene of her exploit. There, they descended into normal space, and quickly were in a position to confirm that an Aesuron supply ship was drifting there, apparently damaged.

  CHAPTER V - Astley to the Rescue

  "A tug and a couple of mining craft coming around, sir," reported the Mandana's in-charge of communications.

  Approaching at the modest rate of eight light years per hour was an old salvage ship bringing along two unwieldy craft resembling motley assemblies of odd equipment.

  The examination of the Aesuron prize by her captors was now practically complete. The supply ship was one of a rather old type, and had left her shipyard on her maiden trip fifty-nine years previously, if the available information about this type of vessel was correct. She must still have been a decent long-distance transporter, though. That’s probably why she had still been used, despite her age. Anyhow she had been neatly battered before she had had time to do much mischief, the human warriors reckoned.

  Already the Mandana's crew had taken steps to assist the salvage workers in the task of g
etting the prize ready for bagging it. The mechanical engineers among them had donned their mecha-suits and come over. The hatchways, with the exception of that emergency exit of the conning-tower, had been hermetically closed, and the airtight doors in the bulkheads shut and shored up to withstand the pressure of the internal atmosphere, which was pressing into the holed sections, and from there wanted to escape. Two tugboats were made fast, one on either side of the alien transport vessel to move her as per convenience.

  It was a race against time and tide. The Aesuron spaceship was likely to have issued an emergency call and her enrages sisters might come along to help her out of the calamity; and in case these were big sisters, like battlecruisers or even battleships, the situation might well turn embarrassing for the Humans involved. Furthermore, just keeping on hovering around here in normal space wasn’t anything to gain the Humans any benefit. The prize had to be carried home to be of real value. For that purpose, she had to be stable and safe. To make sure of that, the engineers had to board her and see how she looked from the inside. The first step toward that goes was to open the different pathways that led into her internal organs. The mechanical appliances won, and soon the officers and crew of the Mandana's tiny expedition force had the satisfaction of seeing the Aesuron supply ship's decks laying open to them, one by one.

  In the last place which opened, the armoured central command unit, they found the supply vessel’s surviving crew members and their passengers. The Aesuron capitulated without any struggle. Their spaceship had become a wreck in such a short time that they had hardly managed to save their own lives by retreating to the most solid compartment of their vessel. No time had remained to don mecha-suits or take care to carry along personal defence weapons. And what sense would that make anyway, fighting on a wreck against a totally superior enemy? On the contrary, if they remained alive, they were of greater value to the interests of the Aesuron Empire. If the Human Nation wanted to waste time and energy to salvage an ancient cargo vessel, so be it. If Homo sapiens desired to keep as prisoners of war a group of Aesuron who knew no secrets and thus could not betray any, so be it. All that required resources and if the Human Nation expended these, so to her own detriment. Therefore, the Aesuron remained calm and refrained from making a show of useless heroism by staging a last stand. They just lifted their hands and told the winners of that accidental victory: “We surrender!”

  Even after much engineering work done, the alien supply vessel still showed a pronounced limping and wasn’t able to move herself, neither in normal space nor into the superposed dimension. She was crippled; and that she was thoroughly. The resonance of her hull with the deflector fields of the Human Nations’ tugs caused her forward compartment to venture away from the towing vessels, and that tendency to depress her bow made it difficult to get her into the waiting dock ship; but finally, with much support and under temporary deactivation of the deflector shields, the Aesuron ship was prevented from banging into the backside of the vessel loading her in. Then, towed in with a winch and controlled in her movements by the tugs, the prize was slowly to make for Planet Bald Beldame. There was an engineering unit waiting for her there. The Human Nation’s government was of course very curious about the secrets she held. The captive Aesuron who knew that there wasn’t much worth to be kept secret on board their old means of conveyance, found this rather amusing, though they kept on making bad faces on a things that wasn’t quite so terribly bad for them.

  When her part in this supplementary business ended, the Mandana slipped off at full speed to the position where the Cassandane and the Nabonidus still held a resolute grip on the recovered hyperspace communications’ relay station.

  As Skipper Oakley had surmised, neither of the mining crafts had been molested by the Aesuron battlecruisers or destroyers. Following their strict orders to make a display of devastating destruction upon an insufficiently protected place of strategic importance they had totally ignored the seemingly innocuous mining craft.

  "Hyperspace conditions are forecast to get rough soon," remarked Lieutenant Bergerault to his subordinate. "I' am going to tell them to secure the relay station and then come along. Don’t want to leave them out here alone. No need to rely on luck one more time. We have done very well, I think. You might want to make your own observation concerning incoming hyperspace conditions, though; and I will take another, and we will check our calculations. Perhaps, the forecast fellows fool around and we won’t actually get it that bad here. But then, you see, the Aesuron major units are said to be quite at home during dimensional disturbances and they like to roam around under these conditions and surprise us out of nowhere. Who knows, perhaps their comrades told them that there is something going on here. – Anyway, we shall take care to guarantee we won't have much trouble in finding the relay station next time." It turned out, though, that even with the hyperspace sensors of the destroyer the forecast of the respective fellows far away was confirmed. In normal space, agitated conditions in the superposed dimension caused no issues, but as the skipper had explained, they offered the enemy’s major units the chance to come along undetected and strike without advanced warning out of the blue.

  Bergerault's orders to the skippers of the mining crafts were smartly carried out, and the relay station, equipped with a solid anchor, was left alone guarded by a bad-ass mine, a sufficient guarantee against detrimental examination by curious Aesuron. Before the end of the next shift, the Mandana and her two charges were snug in Lions’ Loft space harbour, the crews being cautioned against the risk of letting fall any hint concerning their recent work - an injunction which they loyally carried out.

  It was three days before the hyperspace conditions became more favourable again, allowing smaller vessels to travel in that region at decent levels of risk. During that period events had been moving rapidly. And here one of the few advantages of being on particular service became apparent. Had not the Mandana been detailed for escort duties to the relay station-searching mining crafts the chances were that she would be roaming on patrol duty at the fringes of the dimensionally disturbed zone, while those of her crew not immune to seasickness would be existing under inconvenient conditions. Instead, the destroyer was lying snugly berthed in a space harbour, and her crew were able to enjoy brief spells of liberty on the ground.

  The next step on the task concerning the hyperspace communications relay stations was to locate the inside end of the chain, the place where the secret information to be transmitted to the enemy was fed into the system. This work required particular skill and discretion, since the Aesuron operator would certainly be on the alert for the first suspicious signals.

  Secret Service agents and police detectives with specialisation on counter-intelligence work, eventually succeeded in tracing the source of the leakage of information.

  For the present, all that was required to be done in that direction was performed. The Human Nation’s Admiralty had decided to let the discovery of the manipulated relay stations turn the tables upon the Aesuron, and, until the time was ripe, the spies could send hyperspace messages without interruption, but unwittingly they were digging the graves for themselves from which no escape was deemed possible.

  It was well into the third week after the events with the relay stations when the Mandana received orders to proceed to Planet Five Gardens, replenish stores and fuel, and re-join her flotilla. The news was hailed with delight, since it was possible that many of the officers and crew would be able to proceed on leave.

  Another week passed. Information had reached the Commander-in-Chief of a certain amount of Aesuron activity in the Inter-Arm Void. Something had to be done to attract the attention of the general Aesuron populace from the series of sub-optimal experienced by their military in the Green Strong Fort region. The Human Nation’s propaganda units denounced as ‘exaggerated’ any reports concerning the prowess of the Aesuron Battle Fleet originating either from the enemy or from neutral sources, and the hostile supreme command though of making a point
in proving some claims. They were feeding the galactic public with news of voluntary raids upon the Human Nation’s military bases, with the intention to foster the belief of the Aesuron in the invincibility of their own space fleet. The same believe was widely held within the Human Nation, and equally supported by the government. In both civilisations, those individuals in control of power wanted their subjects to be confident that the war could be won soon and without many more casualties. While this propaganda contest was going on, which was seeking to impress the neutrals, the own populace, and to sow doubt in the hearts and minds of the hostile citizenry, both nations were busy engaging in their own set of hidden activities. The Aesuron took upon them significant costs to keep up certain deceitful notions, while their admirals took his major spaceships out for various discreet cruises off the boundaries of their own territory, where there was ever a possibility of making a quick run back under the protection of the great masses of gunships and self-guided missile frigates and behind the minefields. The major units were costly to use and even more expensive to lose. Therefore, their deployment was well though-through and even better protected. What the Aesuron wanted to achieve with their manoeuvres remained a riddle for the Human Nation’s Admiralty, though.

  On the end of the fourth week after the events with the relay stations, orders were issued for the Third and Fourth Battleship Squadrons and the Seventh Battlecruiser Squadron of the Human Nation’s Space Fleet to proceed to certain rendezvous coordinates, officially in order to carry out target practice. The instructions were issued through the usual channels, with the almost certain knowledge that the information would leak out. The Commander-in-Chief's anticipation proved to be correct, for within four hours of the issuing of the orders the news was transmitted to the Aesuron Empire by means of the chain of relay stations.

  It was not the Admiralty's intention to carry out target practice. Instead, the whole of the Battle Fleet put to sea from its various bases, ostensibly for the neighbourhood of the New Arcaibh Cluster, but in reality for a far more important objective.