by C M Benamati
“Wide angle,” she said.
The holographic imagers reset. An enormous metal blade was drifting lazily away from them, its surface charred and blackened at the edges.
“What is that?” said a crewman from the port auxiliary station.
“Is it from us?” said another.
“Negative,” said Lieutenant Commander Decker from the tactical station. “Our hull is intact.”
“Helm, move us away from the debris, nice and slow,” said Stone. “And scan for energy signatures.”
Lawson sounded the acceleration warning. Around the bridge, the few crewmembers who were not strapped into their seats did so. Stone settled into her command chair as the engine’s fired. Unlike the majority of the decks on the Sagitta, which were oriented perpendicular to the ship’s axis of thrust, the bridge was oriented parallel, so that the crew could easily look forward in the direction of motion.
“I’ve got something,” said Decker. “Putting it on the viewer.”
The image shifted again. Something was moving through the debris, coming slowly towards them. A chill ran through Stone when the object changed directions. It’s moving under its own power.
“Holy crap,” muttered a crewman. Nervous whispers spread across the bridge like wildfire.
“Everyone quiet,” snapped Stone. “We need to keep our heads on straight if we want to…to…”
Her words evaporated as the black-hulled, wedge-shaped ship rose above them, blocking out the view of the planet.
“Scan complete,” said Decker. “The computer’s tagged dozens of contacts. The emissions are strange, they don’t match anything in the database. We’re optically scoping them now. Most are damaged, and there’s lots more debris.”
“Full tactical analysis on that one,” said Stone, pointing.
“Already done,” said Decker. “She’s not big, maybe three hundred meters long and fifty meters on the beam at the most. I can’t get a read on the internal configuration. Our penetrating scans just bounce back. I’m not detecting any guns or laser banks, but there are hot spots on her hull that don’t match any known energy signature. That ring drive at the back reads sort of like a fusion thruster, but there’s something else going on with it that the computer can’t figure out.”
An alien ship, thought Stone. We warp forty-something light-years and pop out in an inhabited system. What are the chances? When this was over, assuming they made it out in one piece, she would personally help Roland extract and dissect that blasted AI. “Ensign Carver, hail that vessel.”
“What do I say?” said Carver.
“You don’t need to say anything,” said Stone. “Look up SCP forty-seven in the database and run the program. It’ll send the standard greetings in all known languages.” We come in peace. Don’t blast us to atoms please!
“Got it,” said Carver. “Transmitting.”
The bridge crew held their breath. Stone watched the ship get closer. Her eyes narrowed. Twinkling green stars were coming right at them.
The bridge erupted with panicked shouts as the combat klaxon blared, and the sound of imploding compartments resonated upwards through the ship. “Battle Stations!” said Stone. “All hands to battle stations!”
The lights dimmed, taking on a red hue.
“Hull breach on decks four, five, and six,” said the damage control officer operator. “We’re venting atmosphere.”
“Engines to full power,” said Stone. “Get us away from that thing. Are our shields even up?”
“Of course,” said Decker. “But their bloody ray guns went right through.” His hands flew over the controls. The ship jolted again, but less violently. “There, I switched off the repulsion generators and boosted the spread-spectrum fields. We have partial protection against their weapons, whatever they are.”
Stone was slammed into the seatback as the Sagitta’s engines went to full burn. “Decker,” she said, her voice grim. This can’t be happening. “Do we have a firing solution?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She grimaced. The moment every starship captain dreamed of—first contact with an alien species—had come and passed. Now, the moment every captain dreaded was upon her. We are going to have to fire on them. No, I won’t do it. Not yet. “Fire a warning shot. One shot only, tracer round.”
There was a dull thud as the tracer lanced out, phosphors burning brightly as it shot across the alien vessel’s bow.
“Carver, are we still broadcasting the universal greetings?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Good. Keep them playing no matter what.” I bet they have no idea what we’re saying. Stone grunted as the acceleration changed directions. The ship lurched again and for an instant everything spun sideways.
“We just lost the starboard fusion engine,” said Lawson. “Compensating with thrusters.”
Screw this. “Stone to engineering. Roland, can we use the warp drive to get out of here?”
“Not yet Skipper,” said the engineer. “The nacelles are still too hot from our trip in. I’m working on it. What the bloody hell is going on out there?”
“Oh nothing,” said Stone. “Just some pissed-off extra-terrestrials. I could use some better shields.”
“Aliens? When were you going to tell me about that?”
“Shields, Roland, shields!”
“Right. I’ll do what I can.”
The holographic display tracked the enemy ship as the two vessels danced around each other. Blast after blast tore into the Sagitta. The cutaway schematics on Stone’s display showed multiple blinking orange and red zones. We’re getting the snot kicked out of us.
“We can’t take much more of this,” said Decker.
Agreed, thought Stone. She swiveled around and met Decker’s gaze. She nodded slightly. We both know what needs to be done.
He nodded back.
“More incoming,” shouted one of the sensor technicians.
Three more alien ships were swooping towards them, their pointed bows glowing with green fire. What a crazy way to die. No one will ever know what happened. Stone shuddered, and shook it off. Screw that. Let’s see if our guns are as strange to you as yours are to us. “Decker, all forward batteries. Fire!”
Invisible lasers lanced out, making instantaneous red hotspots on the alien’s hull. A second later came the sharp retort of the main rail guns, the vibration traveling through the ship’s structure from six decks below. The rounds were invisible except for a tracer on every fifth shot.
For a moment it looked as if nothing happened. Then, the pointed bow of the alien ship imploded, followed by its engine assembly. Shrapnel, gas, and yellow fire erupted from the other side.
Got you. Stone didn’t pause to revel. “Next target. Fire!”
Chapter 26
Both transpods opened and the bridge crew spilled out. Ryal raced up to the command platform.
“What happened to the plan?”
Mog indicated the viewscreen.
Ryal stared. “Is that pile of scrap the Ta’Krell’s heavy ship?”
“Yes,” said Mog. He manipulated his controls, trying to bring the Narma Kull into weapons range while powering up the plasma cannons. It was difficult. He was no helmsman, and the controls of his command chair were simplified.
“Meela, Nali, get to it,” he growled.
He need not have bothered; the two women had instantly sized up the situation and had sprinted to their stations. Mog pushed away his controls as Meela’s station overrode his.
“By Ramas’ claws,” said Ryal. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. They did.” Mog pointed at the strange black-hulled ship that had materialized from the wreckage. “There was an unknown energy signature, then that ship out there was flying out of the wreckage of the enemy.”
Murmurs filled the bridge.
“Are they friendly?” said Ryal.
“The Ta’Krell are shooting at them,” said Mog. “So that’s a yes as far as I’m
concerned.”
Both of them watched as round after round of Ta’Krell transplasma ate into the newcomer’s shields. The ship’s hull was scorched, her shields only partially effective. The new ship fired back a single shot that went wide.
“A miss?” said Ryal.
“Perhaps,” said Mog. “But they didn’t miss before, when they hit the big one. Nali, time to target?”
“Ten seconds,” she said. “But sir, the Ta’Krell have sent reinforcements. Three more light cruisers incoming.”
Just then, the little ship veered to port, and its starboard side erupted with what appeared to be projectile sabot rounds. Yellow tracers streaked through space. The broadside volley struck the Ta’Krell vessel head-on. There was no sign of a shield impact, and the Ta’Krell vessel came apart at the seams.
“Bral-vai!” shouted Ryal. “Praise Ramas, they gutted ‘em.”
“They took a pounding though,” said Nali.
Mog knew he had to keep their newfound momentum going. “Ja’tar, send to Ruba and our escorts: the fight is back on. Order all ships to engage.”
“Commander,” said Ja’tar. “I just got word. The King is not in command. As a term of the surrender, mar-Ruba agreed to be taken prisoner.”
Ruba, captured? It can’t be.
“Sir,” said Nali, “if the king is on one of the enemy vessels, we might end up killing him with our own fire.”
“Do we know what ship he’s on?” said Meela. “Maybe we could rescue him?”
“Working on that,” said Ja’tar. “Right now all I know is they took his shuttle.”
Mog weighed the options. There wasn’t much of a choice. If they held their fire the Ta’Krell would wipe them out. If they attacked, they could still win. What was one man’s life against the chance of saving a civilization? I hope history doesn’t remember me as the commander who killed the king.
“We’re not stopping now. We’ve been handed a break and we’re going to take it. The hyperdrive should work now, right?”
He swiveled around. Kremp gave him an affirmative growl.
“Good.”
On the viewscreen, the Ta’Krell reinforcements had the new ship ranged. Appearing as small specs on the screen, they rained fire down on the strange vessel. The newcomer was running, lobbing shot after shot at its pursuers with its aft weapons. Occasionally one of the projectiles would hit, but the Ta’Krell must have realized they were dealing with a slug-thrower. They had reformulated their shields, and the metal rounds were deflected harmlessly away. Mog didn’t think the new ship would score any more easy victories.
“Meela, program a micro-jump. Put us between them.”
“Ready sir.”
“Jump!”
∆∆∆
Stone knew they were done for. The damage control board was red all over and the three-on-one fight had just become a four-on-one. She stared at the huge four-winged ship that had just…just what exactly? Popped in, was the term Carver had used. It had just popped in alongside them.
There was only one tactic left, and that was to see if they could outrun their attackers. She doubted it. With the engines damaged as they were, they’d be lucky to hold two g’s of acceleration.
Suddenly, the big ship fired a stream of blue energy at the vessel the Sagitta was trading blows with. The black-hulled craft exploded. Stone blinked. What?
“They’re on our side!” screamed Decker. “Captain, they’re on our side!”
“Yes,” said Stone. “Yes!”
But the Sagitta was in no condition to keep fighting. “Helm, get us clear and go to maximum burn. Get some distance between us.”
“On it,” said Lawson.
I need to buy more time. She activated the intercom. “All Firefly pilots report to hangar bay one and prepare to launch.” She had no idea how the fighter craft would stack up against these enemies, and she could be sending the pilots to their deaths. I wish I never took this assignment. She’d had a complete career. She could have retired. But there was always the call of that next mission, the promise of doing something great. And I have. Even if we all die here, we did something great.
“Shields are on battery reserves,” said Decker. “One more hit and we’ll lose them.”
“Understood,” said Stone. If the shields are down, then they could finish us with a nuke. We won’t even know what hit us. She adjusted her sensor display. The four-winged ship had the two remaining attackers sufficiently distracted. Perhaps there was still time to ensure some people lived.
She flipped on the general com circuit. “This is Captain Stone. All non-essential crew report to the lifeboats and launch immediately. I repeat, all non-combat crew members, abandon ship!”
∆∆∆
The door to the brig swung open as Captain Stone’s command to abandon ship echoed around the tiny room. Morgan and Liz scrambled through it to the anteroom and stopped.
The woman who had been their jailor was lying on the floor, her head twisted backwards at an unnatural angle. Her sightless eyes stared up at them.
“The acceleration,” said Liz weakly.
Morgan nodded. Thankfully they had been on the lower side of the brig when the Sagitta had gone to full thrust, and had only fallen a few feet to smash into the floor. He tried to move, but his legs didn’t want to respond.
“Victor!” said Liz suddenly. “Morgan, we have to get to Victor.”
“Ok,” he said, still staring at the body. He’d never seen a dead person before. He’d heard they were supposed to look peaceful. They definitely weren’t supposed to look like this. It’s like we’re in a war. He recalled the glimpse of the strange ship that had flown past the porthole window, firing blasts of green energy. It too was unlike anything he had ever seen.
Liz pulled at his arm. “Morgan, please.”
“Yeah, coming,” he said. He put one foot forward, then another. It was a lot of work. The ship was accelerating hard, and the force of acceleration seemed much more than that of normal gravity. His feet felt like they were twenty-pound dumbbells.
“How do we get to the sickbay?” said Liz, stepping out into the corridor.
Morgan shook his head. “I have no idea. It’s not like there’s a map, is there?”
“No,” said Liz. Her eyes were glowing. “There are access channels but I’m locked out. The ship’s computer won’t talk to me.”
“Make way!” came a cry from down the corridor.
A group of people wearing green uniforms, helmets, and oxygen masks ran down the corridor. Pilots! One stopped, glaring at Morgan and Liz. “Are you two crazy? Get off this ship now!”
“What’s going on?” said Morgan.
“It doesn’t matter. Just get off.”
Liz shook her head. “No, we need to get to sickbay. My friend is there, he was hurt.”
“Sickbay’s been evacuated,” said the pilot. “The life boats are probably launching as we speak. We’re going out to defend them.”
“Gabe, come on, forget them,” said another one of the pilots. “That’s an order.”
“Sorry,” said the pilot, turning to follow after her companions. She looked back over her shoulder. “Get off the ship.” Then, she ran down the corridor and out of sight.
“How?” said Morgan. “Where are the escape pods?” He felt like an idiot. He should have asked the pilots for directions.
“Victor’s already off then,” said Liz. She sounded like she was trying to reassure herself. “He’ll be alright. We need to get off too. Come on, let’s follow those pilots.”
Morgan didn’t have any better ideas so he agreed.
They had taken maybe a dozen steps under the grueling acceleration when something tore through the corridor behind them with a sound like a cement mixer crashing through an aluminum shed. Air hurtled past in a whirlwind.
Liz screamed as she was pulled backwards. She slammed into Morgan and they both went down, somersaulting backwards, hands scrabbling for purchase. Morgan yelped as his fin
gers were nearly ripped from his hand. His fist closed on the freefall webbing. Ahead of him, Liz similarly dangled
The lights went out.
For a horrifying moment it was pitch black. Primal panic filled Morgan, a fear unlike any he had ever known.
Then, dim emergency lights flickered on.
Morgan looked backwards at the great sucking maw of hard vacuum and felt as if his soul was being torn from his body. His lungs were going to explode. He exhaled, and when he tried to breathe in again there was simply nothing to breathe. He screwed his eyes shut. I’m going to die, and no one will know what happened.
The deck quivered. Blood pounded in his ears. And then, he heard the rasping, hacking sound of Liz next to him.
He looked up and felt the faint pressure of air against his face. The vents in the ceiling were forcing air back into the space. He could hear it! He gasped, sucking oxygen into his burning chest. Behind them, not three feet away from the tips of his toes, was the glow of an emergency force field.
Liz sat up. Her hair was a mess and she was bleeding from multiple scrapes. Morgan looked down at his arms and found them equally torn up.
Liz mumbled something at him.
“What?” he said. The ringing in his ears was making it hard to hear.
“Got to move,” she gasped. “Before the power goes out again.”
Morgan looked at the faintly glowing force field. “Right. Come on.”
∆∆∆
The Narma Kull was on the hunt, plasma cannons eating into the enemy ship whenever there was a clear shot. Meela dodged a torpedo, then maneuvered them expertly around a disabled frigate to resume the chase. She hounded the Ta’Krell relentlessly, staying glued to their tail. She’s a good pilot, thought Mog. A good fighter. We all are. Survive long enough and I suppose that happens. But are we good enough?
The Ta’Krell had launched fighters. The Narma Kull shuddered as a swarm of them opened fire, peppering her shields, probing for a weakness.