by Paul Dayton
“Comm, check your station!” Bishop barked.
“Everything’s fine from here sir!” the operator said. “Communication and all signals have stopped.”
A deep, cold sweat starting running down the back of Captain Bishop’s head as he waited for the communication to start again. He knew this was a bad sign. It was virtually impossible for all information to cease because each craft used at least two different comm systems, one for ship telemetry and video, and another for voice and scanner info.
“Are you getting anything? Vitals, ship status…” Bishop asked, hoping against hope.
“No sir. All communication with the ship has been completely cut off,” the comm officer replied.
Thoughts went through Bishop’s mind as to what it could be as he carefully avoided the obvious. Perhaps the hyper-link was somehow malfunctioning, but the fact that it happened right after the ship was scanned did not bode well.
“Why kind of scan was it?”
Jumal was already on it and said, “Sir, I’ve run it through our database but came up with nothing at first. The signature is human, but without the usual markers, so I ran it through the mainframes on all ships and one of the computers recognized it. Apparently one of their drones got scanned a few decades back by an automated system, and the scan signature is very similar. This scan appears to be old Earth technology based, a variant closely related to the type of scanning used over seven hundred years ago.”
‘So it’s true’, Bishop thought. There is at least one working base, possibly populated, and if so by either humans or aliens. One suddenly missing ship, an old Earth type scan...
Bishop walked the bridge back and forth as he worked out the details. He knew that aliens did modify human technology for their use so if anyone was on that base, whether humans or aliens, they were possibly hostile and armed with effective weapons. But if there were humans on that base, why would they fire on a human ship?
Bishop posed that question to First Officer Dresdon, though he expected bridge crew input.
“Well, if the scout ship has indeed been fired on, humans may have fired by mistake, perhaps not recognizing our ship or thinking that our ship was alien. We have adopted many alien technologies…” Dresdon said.
“Perhaps it’s an unmanned automated response by an ancient computer unable to distinguish friend from foe,” Jumal added.
“Maybe it’s now an alien base,” Commander Hollander said as he walked in, having followed the conversation in his room.
Bishop looked around while he waited for more possibilities. When none came, he ventured a guess. “Perhaps,” he said, “humans fired on us and it was on purpose.”
The bridge crew looked at each other worriedly.
“Commander, what would you suggest?” Bishop asked.
“I suggest we take a look, Captain.”
“And you Mr. Dresdon?”
“Same thing sir.”
“Very well then,” Bishop said. “Mr. Dresdon, what is the status on the repair and refit of the Ghost Ship?” Until the alien vessel could have a proper designation, her moniker would have to stand.
“She is repaired and instruments adapted for humans. Her onboard computers are just now being reprogrammed, but they should have it all wrapped up in a day.”
“Good,” Bishop said. “I have a feeling we’ll need her soon.” He was about to continue, but the comm officer interrupted and said, “Sir, we’ve received an emergency rescue query from one of our Safe-Sats!”
Bishop’s hopes lifted, thinking it was the scout somehow re-establishing communication. “What’s his status, and why did communications cease?” he asked.
“It isn’t the scout Sir! Verifying the signature…”
“Well, who is it?” Commander Hollander asked impatiently.
“I’m…not sure sir. The Safe-Sat received a beacon from the area of our last jump, but the beacon had been tampered with, and the information in the beacon memory drive makes note of four-hundred and twenty seven alien life forms in need of rescue, plus two of our pilots.”
“All on one ship?” Captain Bishop asked, surprised.
“Yes sir.”
“What kind of alien life signs did you get?” Dresdon asked.
“Other than the pilots, scans indicated that the aliens were extremely small and very unusual. Their temperature doesn’t resemble any known mammal, and is more like what we see with the aliens. But these are too small to be ants. Unfortunately, our Safe-Sat scans don’t reveal anything else and their ship didn’t transmit more detailed information.”
“Did the pilots hint at anything when they sent their emergency message?” Hollander had heard that the aliens were somehow able to subvert human minds, but this information was top secret and known only to a few. Morale would take a nosedive if this was let loose.
“No sir, we just picked up a request for a tow with a jump capable ship, and that they were the only survivors.”
“Play the message,” Bishop said. He wanted to hear this for himself.
The message itself was brief and he recognized Jack’s voice. Bishop knew her well when he was First Officer and she seemed a little different, but it could have been his imagination, or her being injured, tired or emotional from the death of her crew mates and wingmen. He wanted to ask who else she had with her, but of course that would be difficult and time consuming, and they had no time. The scout-ship that had been sent to earth might be damaged and not destroyed, this message could be a trap to lure barely repaired ships back to a major alien hive, or maybe it was as simple as it seemed to be – two crew members that survived. With hundreds of unknown aliens on board. ‘Wait! That’s it!’ he thought. “What was Jack flying?”
“Checking the logs,” Jumal said. After a brief moment, he said, “A Rapier, sir. But the Safe-Sat communication has a Klinger signature, unassigned to any crew member but registered as Lost In Combat.”
Commander Hollander thought for a moment. A Rapier was a single seater, quick but not terribly so, good weapons and targeting BUT only a single seater. Non-atmospheric. He tried figuring out any way in which she could have switched to the Klinger, a two-seater ship, and he admitted that it was possible but very unlikely.
Hollander looked at Bishop. “Any idea how she could survive an attack of that magnitude, and somehow slip into another ship that also survived?”
Bishop saw where he was going with this and continued, “And stay alive for over two weeks in an area with a major hive operating?” They both knew the answer to that question.
And even if she did, Bishop thought to himself, would the Jack he knew put the Convoy or even a single rescue ship at risk just to save her life? No doubt the LIC ship was simply a captured Klinger, there to lure them back into an ambush.
Just to make it clear to those on the Bridge, he asked Hollander, “What are the chances of Jack and her pilot surviving, and then asking for a rescue knowing that she would jeopardize the life of any coming after her?”
“My thoughts exactly. It’s a trap. Let’s send them a nice surprise. Perhaps a Trojan Horse?” Hollander said.
To the aliens, their long-range sensors would tell them that the Trojan Horse was a cargo ship with several life forms aboard experiencing engine trouble, but once they approached, it would leave a trail of false readings to indicate that the craft had limped away and had ejected a bad and now dead power unit that had lost integrity, something that was perfect for salvaging.
Once they approached it would let loose its salvo of bomblets, small guided missiles that targeted any ships around it. It would then shut down and return to the ‘bad power unit mode’ and wait for collection by another unsuspecting alien. If picked up, its power source was programmed to overload and destroy the scavengers. It had been very effective, and any aliens coming across the unit hadn’t survived to tell of its existence.
Bishop looked at Jumal and nodded. “Yes sir Commander, Captain,” Jumal replied. He readied the weapon and fired, and within seconds th
e telltale gamma burst told them that the weapon had successfully jumped.
Hollander’s smile was interrupted when Jumal said, “Sir, I have a second gamma burst. Checking visual log, last ten seconds…” and he put the visual on the screen. Hollander and Bishop watched as their Russian tugboat captain, Ivan ‘Loosechange’ prepared for the jump and then moments later disappeared.
“Damn. Tell me he didn’t go where I think he went…”
Jumal replied, “Based on his entry trajectory and speed, the nav-comp calculates a 97% chance that he has jumped to Jack’s coordinates. Do you want a breakdown of the information?”
“No.” Hollander knew that tug-boat captains were all half wild hotheads, eager to outdo each other on their exploits. He also knew that they prided themselves in never leaving anyone in a bind. That’s why they had the shortest lifespan of anyone in the fleet. Hollander was sad to see ‘Loosechange’ destroyed, especially by their own weapon.
‘Damn idiot,’ Hollander thought, as he wondered about Jack. He hated the thought she was dead, and couldn’t figure out how the aliens could mimic her voice so well. He knew Bishop felt the same way, and that he was just as reluctant to give the order for the jump to Earth. He figured he’d spare Bishop the decision, and said, “Comm, general call to all ships: Prepare to depart for Earth.”
Bishop gave Hollander a sharp look but stayed quiet.
Hollander thought back to their eagerness to see their home planet, and to the now somber mood of all those that witnessed the disappearance of the scout ship before it could even get a half decent look at what they had been searching for all their lives.
“And our status?” the Comm Officer asked.
Hollander slowly looked at the Captain and then at everyone.
“Status?” he said as he seemed lost in thought. “Why, we’re at war, officer.” He quietly turned and stoically left the bridge without another glance.
***
Ivan scanned for alien activity and found none. “Huh. Stupid Americans, dey tink to know everything!” he said aloud to himself.
He looked around with his scanners until he found the Trojan Horse, and after that, searched for the Klinger that his illegal but very effective ‘military only’ electronic listening and imaging devices had shown him. After searching for a good half hour, he couldn’t find the ship.
“Comp, calculate secondary trajectory possibility,” he requested in Russian.
“Calculated and plotted in.”
He quickly went over the flight line and started searching.
“Jackhammer! Is your friend Loosechange…I have best wodka yet. Aged one week,” he said hoping for a reply.
The coordinates for Jack’s ship had been given, yet his Scanner showed the area as black. It was true that they might be out of range, but he couldn’t see how. He had jumped into position just outside the range of the Trojan Horse, which was unable to distinguish friend from foe.
“Where you are Jack?” he said again as he thought that perhaps the Klinger had drifted powerless, or was destroyed by any aliens since the message was sent. “Or could be dey move cus company bad,” he said, trying to relieve his worry. He was about to restart a third new search when the Trojan Horse suddenly activated and dumped its entire load of missiles at an invisible object.
“Damned Americano Chit!” Ivan yelled as he carefully opened the throttles on his ship. The pitch on the drives increased and he could feel the vibration from a badly calibrated fuel injector through his seat. Within a few moments the Klinger, which had been just out of range, came into view on his scan, with the missiles now locked in and quickly zeroing.
Ivan didn’t want to get too close - his tug had only rudimentary defenses, but this left him feeling hopeless as he sat there, not knowing what to do. When he heard the call come in on his scanners, he didn’t hesitate a second to jump, with or without permission, but now that he was here he wished he had come better prepared.
He thought back to the time he first met Jack, a hotshot pilot just starting off in the ranks. He didn’t know what she looked like but her voice turned him on, especially since she was coming to save his ass.
He had come in hot to yank a Dead-In-Water fighter out of the maelstrom going on when he himself ended up being attacked. He figured he could take some damage, but the onslaught was so severe that he knew he wouldn’t have much time left. Out of the blue this young thing came in and starting toasting aliens all around him. Within ten minutes it had all ended, and she hadn’t even said ‘hello’ yet. He laughed at her first words, “You got balls buddy – going to fight aliens in a tub like that,” and the friendship started.
He introduced himself as Ivan the Terrible, but she replied by saying, “You mean Ivan the Stupid.” Fortunately the name that stuck was Ivan Loosechange, which she gave him later because of the dribble of metallic remains trailing from his badly damaged tug. They looked like loose change falling out of a pocket.
He in turn christened her Jack-Hammer, a name that became bigger than life to her chagrin and one she flat out refused to use. Still, he towed the DIW fighter back to safety, albeit slowly.
They both got publicly reprimanded for their recklessness, and then spent the night together getting drunk and celebrating. It was at that point that Ivan fell in love with her, just like every other man Ivan knew.
He looked on as the missiles all neared the ship, and was dumbfounded when they seemed to hesitate and then go to a search pattern. After a few moments, their onboard computers shut off the rocket propellant and all missiles became dormant as they silently waited for a new target to show itself. Ivan looked, wondering how the ship had become invisible to the missiles. Ivan could clearly see the ship, and when he looked again he realized that the ship comp had turned the Klinger Triangle color from green to gray, a ‘Dead Space Object’ to his targeting computer.
Just as he was about to try communicating with her again, the amber warning on Tactical started flashing.
“Approaching minimum safe distance,” the ship comp stated.
“Chit!” he said to himself as he reversed ship thrusters. The tug groaned and vibrated badly as he applied full reverse power, but the ship comp overrode and immediately throttled down to 75%.
“What the hell is going on?” Ivan yelled in Russian.
“Thruster 3 injector malfunction,” it stated matter-of-factly.
Ivan’s eyes grew large as he watched the ship slow down, realizing it wouldn’t be enough. One by one the missiles found his ship and locked on as he came within range, and Ivan could see doom spelled out on his display.
***
Jack was awakened by the ship’s warning signal. It took time to get her bearings and to fully realize what was happening, but eventually it sunk in. Neither she nor Scratch were in any shape to do anything about the events occurring at the moment. They had been without water for two days now, and the cabin was now consistently cold to conserve energy. Their passengers had gone into hibernation and Jack had received no mental information from them ever since her water had run out.
Now the ship had informed them that a Trojan Horse had just jumped in near them, that another ship had also jumped and that they were under attack. ‘Mike’ prompted her for action, but Jack was no longer capable of much. She watched groggily as the Trojan Horse unleashed the missiles, and continued watching as the ship reacted in a totally unexpected way. She thought she had imagined it at first and asked Scratch, “Did you see that?” but Scratch didn’t answer.
Jack prompted and the ship replied that it had changed the atomic structure of its skin to mimic the appearance and composition of rock, but it didn’t quite register. She watched as the missiles circled, attempting to acquire a new target and let of a sigh of relief when she saw them go dormant. It was at that moment that she remembered that there was the other ship, a ‘Friendly’ in their air space.
“Mike,” she croaked, her lips now parched and blue from the cold. She had forgotten she didn’t
need to speak. “What ship is that?”
“Tug, Class III, rated to tug eighty thousand tons, assigned to Ivan Leschenko.”
Panic showed in Jack’s eyes, but she didn’t know what to do as they activated once again. They had locked on to Loosechange’s tug, and she saw the particle trails coming from the missile exhausts as they closed in on the tug. Jack could only think of her friend dying as he came to rescue her, and the pain in her heart stabbed her through. After all they had been through it was their own weapon that was about to destroy her friend. Anger exploded as she rammed her fists against the seat enveloping her. Ivan was about to die, and it was her fault because she brought him here. I´m going to die, Scratch is going to die, and so are the crabs on board this ship. Dry sobs wracked her body as despair and hopelessness swept over her like a tidal wave.
CHAPTER 18
New World Order?
“Mr. Timothy, I want to help.”
Ruth laughed sarcastically at her offer. She could see what Darlee was up to and she resolved to watch her every move. Darlee chose to ignore the laughter and waited to see Timothy’s reaction.
“What…how can you help?” Timothy asked, surprised at the offer.
“I know of people that have the knowledge you need. We have used them to keep as much of this base functioning as possible.”
“And where are these people?” Ruth asked, smelling a trick.
“Follow me and I’ll show you.” Darlee looked at Timothy for permission since Junior wasn’t letting her go.
“First off, get some clothes on. Junior, let her go but follow her closely. Make sure she doesn’t hide any weapons on herself.”
“Yes, Sir. I have to recharge.”
“Can you watch her as you recharge?” Timothy asked.
“Yes, but with Meagan’s help.”
“Then let’s make ourselves comfortable and rest for a few hours. Meagan, does the base have any food supplies that you know of? And do you know of any group of people in charge of keeping parts of this base running?”
“Yes to both questions. My surveillance cameras show a large food storage area just down the hallway. You will find preserves, bread and dried meat. My sensors are still offline so I can’t tell if they’re edible or not, but you should be able to. In reply to your second question, this wing contains instruction units and a formidable library three floors down, together with the original housing quarters. That area also allows access to the positron accelerator. My Duty-Bots will arrive there shortly to assess the situation.”