by Paul Dayton
“Daniel, I need some more of your magic. Match our speed and direction with the alien ship, minus 10 kilometers per hour.”
“I’ll try, sir!”
Daniel watched the numbers, and he massaged the thrusters that were still operational. Some of them were overheated from the last maneuver, and he had to over-ride them before he could use them again. Others were simply out of fuel, and the crew hadn’t had a chance to attend to them yet. They weren’t made to move the ship in this way, being designed only to provide minute adjustments when docking with a spaceport. Still, he gave it all he had and watched as the distance closed in between the two ships.
At one hundred meters, they were still off Hollander’s mark by 16 kilometers per hour, and Daniel knew knew that even five kilometers difference was too much for Hollander. He gave it all he had as he watched the remaining thrusters kick out one by one from overheating or lack of fuel.
Hollander watched the numbers too, and noticed the difference in speed close in, from twenty six kilometers per hour, to twenty two, nineteen, sixteen, and then finally fourteen. It wasn’t quite the ten kilometer per hour difference he wanted, but it would have to do.
They all watched as the details of the alien ship became crystal clear until it passed the forward cameras that supplied the common view to the bridge.
Within a few seconds, they all heard a very faint and dull metallic thunk as the alien ship struck WF221, and Hollander said, “Are there any cameras we can switch to that would give us some more information?”
Jumal was already searching for cameras that still worked, and finally finding one he switched views. A side view of a now slowly rotating alien craft, with its nose compressed where it hit WF221, was displayed on the monitor. Hollander looked at the craft with longing, wishing there was some way he could tractor it to the bay he no longer had.
‘No use delaying the inevitable’, he thought, and was about to call up one of the other WF ships when the communications officer interrupted his thinking.
“Sir, I have a tug on the comm. He’s asking if we need any help.”
“Put him on general bridge comm.” Hollander couldn’t believe his luck.
“This is Hollander. You offered your services?”
“You need tow?” a definitely Russian sounding voice asked.
“I certainly do, but… how did you know?”
“I watch. Show very good. But I want to see boom so ending not so good. Still, I can help!”
The bridge crew broke out in laughter.
“You want I take funny ship to WF224?”
“One moment…What’s your name?” Hollander asked.
“Ivan Leschenko, Captain. My friends say Loosechange.”
Hollander signaled to cut the comm, and after turning to Bishop he mouthed the words ‘Loosechange?’ and smiled. Bishop shrugged his shoulders and smiled but didn’t comment. At that moment the Ensign that Hollander had sent out earlier to search for Dickens walked through the bridge blast doors with a sheepish looking Dickens in tow.
“Dickens! Am I happy to see you!” Hollander blurted out before he could curb his enthusiasm. “I need to…” and now he considerably toned down his delivery, “ask you for a report over the events that just happened, but before that, I have a question. That ship on the viewscreen – do you think that could fit through the battery exchange doors behind engineering?”
The batteries were massive units that provided emergency backup power for the ship in case of a total loss of power from the generators and were housed in a special area in cargo. The cargo area provided access to a doorlock for their fuel resupply or exchange when needed. They were all alive because of them, the backup generator and Dickens’ quick thinking.
Dickens looked at the alien ship and his eyes widened. A smile quickly appeared on his face, and he said, “Yes SIR! I’ll make it fit if I have to!”
Before Hollander could say another word, Dickens ran off to the generator room to get things ready.
Hollander smiled and signaled for the comm to reopen. “Pilot Leschenko, I mean, Loosechange! Thank you for waiting. The Battery bay doors will be opening any second. Please deposit the ship there.”
“Sir, we help. I send weirdo ship to WF224 and report findings to you! We have…we have…crackpot team…” the bridge crew broke out in guffaws with this, “you are short on… powerman as you fix ship…” More laughter broke out, and Hollander had a hard time keeping a straight face.
“I appreciate the offer for help… uh,… Loosechange, but seeing as half our ship is missing, our chief engineer does seem to have time on his hands. But you can send your team of…” and now Hollander couldn’t help letting a laugh break out, “…crackpots over whenever your Captain would like.”
More laughter broke out as Leschenko cursed under his breath. “Yes sir, Battery bay doors. I get message. Loosechange out.”
Hollander knew the Russian Captain on WF224 personally, having played poker with him once a month for the last seven years when time and distance permitted. He also knew that their team was good, and that they would no doubt share all the information they got with him, but this was a piece of good luck in a week of bad luck, and it would boost ship morale. They would be in space-dock soon once they orbited Nady, and that would give them time to do all the repairs they could, considering half the ship was missing. In the meantime, they had an alien ship to study, and if the hunch Hollander had was correct, they would indeed get lucky.
The first officer sat there looking at the viewscreen that displayed the tug carefully guiding the alien craft through the battery bay doors. Within moments, the craft was in, hooked up to the crane and the doors closed.
“First Officer Bishop, you have the bridge,” Hollander said.
“Yes sir!” Bishop wasn’t surprised the Captain was leaving. He would have left himself if he could.
“Daniel,” Bishop said. “Let’s get this ship heading toward Nady. Comm, all tugs. I need a push to Nady. Any help offered automatically includes an invitation to the Famous Friday Night Poker table.”
The tug pilots started calling in and setting up positions, and Daniel reported that most thrusters had been refueled and reset.
Bishop let his mind wander to the events that occurred this past week. He had no idea who had died, and he knew that the time was very close for mourning their dead. Yet he knew it had nothing to do with Captain Hollander, and he had complete confidence in him. For as long as he’d known him, Hollander had always followed the book to the letter. Even when he was off duty he still wore his uniform and refused to be at ease. He was a professional soldier one-hundred percent of the time and he loved every minute of it. Bishop was sure that this was the reason why he had never married – it would have interfered with his true love. The whole crew admired him and knew him to be firm but fair, believing and adhering to order amid chaos in the galaxy.
Bishop watched the progress of the tugs as they latched on and synchronized their pull.
Nady was two days away at the best of tug speed, and he had no idea on how long it would be before WF221 would be space worthy.
Thoughts of Jack and Scratch hovered in his mind and troubled his conscience, even though there was nothing he or anyone else could have done. Setting up the Jackson-Briggs maneuver and actually pulling it off was brilliant, as was the confirmed destruction of 351 alien vessels. It’s too bad she wouldn’t be around to argue about killing rights.
Bishop’s thoughts were interrupted as Captain Hollander paged him on his personal comm.
“Bishop, I know that you’d be down here if you had the chance, so I thought I’d fill you in. The Jackson-Brigg maneuver caused this ship to lose all power as you probably guessed. What we didn’t know is that the memory units in the ship are literally frozen, unable to function but also unable to dump any information they have stored.”
Hollander waited for this to sink in.
“Can the information be retrieved?” Bishop asked.
Bishop leaned back, too stunned to think. Almost every ship they had ever captured had their data banks erased automatically, but this was a pure stroke of luck. If the ship was technologically advanced, the information contained in it would be extremely useful. Bishop was sure that the next few hours would pass very slowly. “Let me know if something interesting comes up,” he told Hollander.
“You’ll be the first to know, Mr. Bishop,” Hollander said.
Bishop kept himself busy reading reports on the ship damage, preparing condolence letters for the families of the lost pilots, and organizing a list of the most important items to be repaired at Nady Spacedock. The list was long and continuously edited as inventories at the Spacedock were checked, and a surprise comment by the Nady committee needed clarification and approval by the Captain, but a few hours later Bishop had most of the major stuff worked out. He had been mostly successful at keeping the alien craft out of his mind, so he was surprised to see Hollander come into the bridge red-faced and out of breath.
“Mr. Bishop, a word please?” he said.
Bishop got up and walked with Hollander past the blast doors and into the hallway where they could have some privacy.
“I’m telling you this because I promised to tell you first.” Hollander looked Bishop squarely in the eyes. “The aliens think they know where Earth is.” Twice in one day Bishop was at a loss for words. He stood there looking at Hollander, and he finally muttered, “Are you sure?”
“As sure as the aliens are. I just checked, and there is a star where sol is supposed to be, and it certainly jives with all our other information. I’m having cartography quietly looking into this to see if that star has planets circling it, but I’m pretty sure I know the answer.”
“Why would this ship have that information? They normally supply information as needed.”
“Well, there’s more,” Hollander continued. “The ship had detailed plans on its goals and targets as part of a larger attack. A lot of information simply wasn’t given, such as the time of the event and so on, but enough was there to tell me they plan to attack Earth and finish the job this time.”
Bishop was surprised once again. Not only did Earth really exist, but there were humans still on it.
“Is that confirmed in their data banks, that there are people still alive on the planet?” This was a key question, as they both understood the ramification of this point if it were true – that Earth could indeed sustain life once again.
“Data indicates no ambiguity. There are people alive on Earth, and they apparently consider them a considerable threat. They not only intend to destroy Earth, but are already in the process of making this happen.”
Once he regained his composure, he said, “So, when we jumped into that solar system, we didn’t know there was an alien hive there. But we also caught them by surprise as they prepared an all out attack on Earth. That’s why there were so many ships there. Was it only this hive participating, or would more become involved?”
“Based on past experience, they pull out all the stops on a major attack. Although their initial use of resources would be great, they don’t like losing either, and they lost on their initial objective of taking over the planet seven hundred years ago. They won’t make the same mistake twice. Either that, or they have something we don’t know about that may be giving them confidence. Also, did you notice anything missing in this last attack?”
“Yes, actually. There were only eight capital ships – the others were Destroyer Class attack ships, and of course the orbital platform we destroyed. THAT worries me. I hope you’re wrong about them having a trick up their mandibles. Do you think this information could have been planted?” Bishop said.
“It’s possible, but very unlikely considering the circumstances. But it is something we have to consider. Either way, we have to make it to Earth before they do. The earliest anyone can jump there is in two weeks, what with the need for all ships to refuel and repair, not to mention our own situation here,” Hollander added.
“Actually, our own situation may be slightly better than we thought. They are ahead of schedule on the construction of WF389 and the rear half has just been jumped here for assembly. Unfortunately, a fission meltdown on Epsilon 5 has caused a halt on all work until radiation can be cleaned up. The front half will be delayed for more than a year. There is talk of using the rear for ourselves. It would be relatively simple. Estimates are that one and a half weeks would be sufficient to link the two. In the meantime, perhaps we can send a jump capable scout…”
“I feel like I’ve won the lottery twice today,” Hollander said. He considered the issue, knowing full well that their ships were all built in segments and fully compatible with each other, something that survival in space demanded.
He nodded and said, “I saw the rear half in orbit at Nady, and the thought did cross my mind, although I didn’t think anyone would agree to it. But considering the delay it’s certainly possible now. And the Scout is a good idea too. Nice to have a little look around before the party comes to dinner… I’m meeting with all the Captains. We have to elect a new Commander and I have to share this information with all of them. I’ll mention the scout and WF389. In the meantime, I’ll have to delay your visit to the alien ship for a bit longer, Dave. And, keep this to yourself,” Hollander smiled, knowing that Dave Bishop was dying to take a look.
CHAPTER 15
Into the Lion’s Pit
Scratch came up to another ventilation shaft branching off to the side and he was about to pass by it when he noticed that Jack was no longer behind him. He turned to search for her, but he couldn’t see her in the length of tunnel he was in. He tried whispering her name, hoping that it would travel down the tunnel but no answer came back. He turned around in the tight passageway and starting going back when suddenly Jack’s head popped out from around the last bend.
“What happened?” Scratch whispered, but noticed her squinting her eyes from pain. She slowly crawled up to him and said, “The pain’s back, but not as bad as before…”
“Do you want to turn around?” Scratch asked.
“No, let’s keep going. I need to know what’s happening to Bones.”
Scratch had lost hope that Bones was still alive, but he kept the thought to himself. He was a little jealous of her determination to find him, but he knew his jealousy was unreasonable. He wanted to find them alive and well too, but she was so fixated on him. If they were alive, and it was a big if, he could certainly use their help in getting out of here.
“Scratch, how much longer before that unit you fiddled with goes off?”
Scratch looked at his watch and said, “Eight hours twenty three minutes, Jack. How are you doing?”
“It’s not getting any worse, but it’s not exactly pleasant either. And I’m starting to get images in my mind again and sometimes it interrupts my vision.”
They continued crawling, but at her pace. Coming up to another vent in the wall, they peered in to see an ant peering back at them through the hole. Scratch and Jack reeled back in surprise. The ant, having caught an unusual smell and then an unnatural mental interruption, came to inspect the source of both. Jack had little time to react, but she carefully brought the small laser up to firing position behind Scratch’s back, waiting to see what the ant would do. She immediately received a series of mental queries, and from what she could gather, it was trying to find out what they were doing in there, away from their assignments. Scratch’s confusion at everything seemed to have led it to a conclusion, and it started tearing at the hole to get to them. Jack punched a neat hole through the alien head and it fell to the ground.
They looked past the alien and saw a large tunnel-like room with the walls lined with the same crablike aliens they had met before,
except that these were held in place with some form of hardened glue. Attached to each was a small box and a tube, which seemed to be carrying liquid to or away from the crabs. Further down the room was a smaller ant, another drone worker. It had stopped what it was doing to look at the commotion, but then continued with its duty oblivious of the two humans now crawling in.
They slowly lowered themselves into the room, careful not to step on any crabs. Jack looked at Scratch and said, “Last time I came across them they communicated with me, but now all I’m getting is pain. Scratch, I think they’re in so much pain that they don’t even realize I’m here. I’m going to try to communicate with them again.”
Jack sat down and concentrated, her brows furrowed. The alien drone stopped what it was doing again and looked at them. Jack drew in a sharp intake of breath, and Scratch could see tears forming in her eyes. ‘No!’ she yelled, startling Scratch, and then sat quietly with her mouth open. Finally, she shook herself and opened her eyes.
“We have to get out of here!”
“Out of where, this room? What about the crabs? What did you see?” Scratch asked confused.
“Later!”
They quickly left the room and worked their way down the ventilation tunnel with Jack in the lead. Scratch followed and Jack finally stopped and turned toward him.
“We couldn’t do anything for those crabs. Only others like them could help them, and if they come anywhere near that tunnel the same thing would happen to them. Scratch, they have a large ship almost ready to lift off, but all I see is death associated with it. At first I thought we could escape in it, but the crabs want it destroyed. They say it’s imperative! They also want… the planet destroyed. Apparently there are more hives like this on the planet, all busy doing something but I don’t know what. But in the visions, it showed…”