by D. M. Pruden
“Are you okay? Is it the Malliac?”
“No,” she said, shaking it off with an unconvincing attempt to smile. “It was just the intensity of your...” She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “What you—we—shared, was in sharp contrast to what the rest of the crew are experiencing. It took me by surprise. I’m sorry.”
“Please, don’t apologize.” He paused to glance about the med-bay at the injured. “I should have been more sensitive to you and everyone else.”
He sighed, the burden of command once more pressing down fully upon him.
“I came down here to tell you we are getting underway for the wormhole in a few hours. You’ll be needed on the bridge.”
“I will be there, Captain.”
He didn’t think he could get used to being called that. He wanted Pavlovich to recover and rescue him from the danger of screwing everything up irrevocably.
Stella stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m confident you will do fine.”
He regarded her, an eyebrow raised.
She smiled again. “I don’t read minds, Hayden. Your doubts are written all over you for anyone to see. You must believe in your ability to succeed, if not for yourself, then for the sake of everyone else. They need you to be strong.”
“I’ve never been in a situation like this...”
“My father and I have. We’ll be here for you to draw strength from. If we could make it through all those years, you and your crew with this mighty ship will survive this.”
He didn’t know if it was because of her words or her faith in him, but he no longer felt anxious. He kissed the top of her head.
“I’ll see you in three hours.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The Wormhole
ONCE MORE, SCIMITAR, with Stella at the helm, slowed on its approach to Gabriel’s coordinates. The viewer showed a vast expanse of stars. All operational chatter had ceased, and a tense silence hung like a smothering cloud.
Hayden shot an inquiring glance toward the tactical officer. Gunney answered solemnly, “No sign of the Malliac on the long-distance surveillance systems.”
He returned his attention to the screen, only to catch the eye of his nervous second, who had relinquished her station to Stella. Kwok shook her head, apprehension flashing in her brown eyes.
Hayden cleared his throat and announced, “Maintain course and speed, helm.”
Even without being an empath, he was certain everyone shared Kwok’s doubts. He only hoped everyone’s negative emotions didn’t affect Stella’s ability to locate the wormhole.
Kwok pointed at the viewer. “There!”
A subtle distortion of the star field, like the reflections of the night sky on a rippling pond, was the only indication something lay ahead.
“Science station, what do you read?” asked Hayden.
Cora answered. “A two percent increase in neutrino density, Cap’n. Also, elevated X-ray and gamma ray output from the centre of the distortion, but nothing lethal.”
“Helm, reduce speed by one quarter.” Confidence was now more evident in his voice. “Give us a little time to see how big the door is.”
“Not sure that’s even what it is, sir,” said Cora, her normally ebullient disposition noticeably diminished.
“That’s what your bugs are going to tell us. Send them in.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” she said, her enthusiasm returning as she resumed her engineering station. Hayden suppressed a smile.
The distorted region of space grew as the ship seemed to inch its way toward it. The tension on the bridge was palpable, with everyone not otherwise occupied riveted to the anomaly in rapt silence.
Cora’s voice broke the spell. “We just lost a bug. I think that’s the wormhole, Cap’n.”
“Is there enough information to tell us how far away and how big it is?”
Cora busied herself. “It is two hundred and eight kilometres dead ahead, sir. The edges of it are diffuse, but it is approximately fourteen hundred metres in diameter.”
“So no risk of scratching the paint, then?” said Hayden. When nobody so much as smirked, he gathered his thoughts and considered the next course of action.
Every eye was on him, waiting for him to decide what to do. Except he had no idea what the potential consequences of that decision looked like. Every option before him only varied in the degree of uncertainty, and none of them was guaranteed to be danger-free. There was a significant chance nothing would change the odds of their survival. How did Pavlovich manage to do this for most of his long career, knowing that almost every day, a wrong choice could kill everyone? He had a new appreciation for the man.
His decision made, he swallowed the lump in his throat and silently prayed it was the right one. “Take us through the anomaly.”
The tension built as the ship slowly advanced on the wormhole. Hayden wondered if his shared experience with Stella had made him more attuned to those around him.
As the bow of Scimitar contacted the spatial distortion, he held his breath, hoping he didn’t commit them to oblivion.
The lighting flickered before the bridge was plunged into darkness.
“Cora?” he said into the blackness, raising his voice above the murmur of the others.
“Give me a moment, Cap’n. There was a power fluctuation.”
On her last word, the lights came back on.
“See? There was nothing to worry about,” she said, like a reassuring mother.
Hayden returned his attention to the viewer, which was coming back online, along with all the other systems. His mouth dropped open as the hologram filled with millions of bright stars, so thick they appeared as almost a solid wall.
“So many of them,” said someone.
He dragged his eyes away. “Where the hell are we?”
“Um...on it sir, but I’ll need a few minutes to recalibrate the computer,” said Kwok, who had relieved Stella from the helm.
Noting in everyone the same degree of distraction that had enraptured him a moment before, he called out, “System checks, all stations, ship-wide.”
The spell broken, the crew hurried to comply with the order. Hayden moved to the science station and reviewed the data the AI had accumulated since their arrival.
He recited the summary, “Elevated levels of X-rays, gamma rays, neutrino emissions, graviton particles...”
Kwok interrupted his litany. “Preliminary positioning places us near the galactic core, somewhere in the 3 KPC spiral arm.”
“What? Are you sure about that?”
“I’m not certain about anything, sir, except that we are no longer anywhere close to Mu Arae. The computer is choking on the stellar data. It will take some time to calibrate to known star charts. It may be three hours before we establish a more precise location.”
At least we are in the same quadrant of the galaxy, thought Hayden, as if that is going to help us. We are even farther from home than before. What did I do to us?
“Cap’n,” said Cora, concern in her voice, “the wormhole has vanished!”
He rushed to Cora’s station to look over her shoulder at the readouts.
“I lost contact with the last of our bugs, and when I went to look for them, they were gone, along with any sign of the anomaly.”
The normally subdued murmur of bridge activity ruptured into a chaotic flurry of questioning voices either trying to gain his attention directly or merely asking of whomever would listen. Stella rocked in pain. Her hands covered her head as she fought to defend herself from the overwhelming emotional storm. Hayden could see the situation slipping into pandemonium. He needed to get control before it was too late.
“QUIET, EVERYONE!”
His outburst had the desired effect. They all stared at him. He only had a few seconds to capitalize on their shock.
“You are the crew of the Scimitar, a proud, long-serving ship of the line. I expect you all to perform your duties with the same degree of courage and discipli
ne you have displayed in the past.”
“What are we going to do, sir?” somebody said. Grumbles of assent began to rise in volume.
“Who asked that?” He stood to better see and be seen.
Crewman Brennan slowly stepped forward and raised his hand. Hayden recognized him as the one who had voiced initial objections to his appointment as XO. He directed his reply to him but intended it for everyone.
“To answer your question, I’m not sure what we are going to do. Yet. This situation is well beyond what anyone has experience with, so we will need to work together to keep things running and find a solution.”
“But, sir,” said Brennan, “when will the captain be back?”
Hayden frowned. “I am now in command, and I expect you to show me the same trust and respect you showed him. Is that understood?”
Murmurs bubbled up. He thought heard someone mutter, “Pavlovich never would have led us into this mess.”
He saw several heads nod in agreement. The seeds of a mutiny were being sown, and he felt as if he walked in shifting sand, unable to gain a solid foothold. He stood a good chance of being deposed before he could even register his first log entry.
A heavy footstep clanked behind him, and he turned to see Gunney outside of his alcove. Standing at his full height, the cyborg scanned the bridge with his menacing artificial eye. One hand hovered over his holstered side arm.
The hatch opened, and two Rangers entered. They directed their attention to the gunnery officer.
“Is there anything we can do, Captain?” inquired Gunney.
Hayden released his held breath. Calling armed reinforcements was a bit heavy-handed, but he was grateful for their support, nonetheless.
“Thank you. Please instruct your men stand by.”
He was conflicted. On the one hand, since his arrival he had worked hard to earn the acceptance and respect of the crew. He regarded many of them, if not as friends, at least as amicable comrades. It was becoming apparent that any such goodwill did not extend itself into confidence in his abilities as captain.
As far as they all were concerned, he was untested. Hell, they all had more experience than he. But Pavlovich had put him in command, making it abundantly clear it was up to Hayden to sink or swim. If he could not garner their compliance through respect, he would have failed. Then he would be forced to use other means to establish his authority.
Standing taller, he said, “I need a complete systems check.”
As if a switch had been flipped, everyone snapped to their duties. Hayden looked over to Gunney and nodded his thanks. The old Ranger returned a grim-faced salute and resumed his post in his alcove.
As he took his seat, he caught a glimpse of Cora tending to Stella, who appeared exhausted from the torrent of emotional energy that had broken over her. Both women smiled at him in open relief that things had resolved well. He returned their smiles, but his stomach was twisted in knots.
He didn’t try to delude himself. The timely arrival of the Rangers prevented something ugly from developing. It was a short-term solution at best. Their support was provisional, especially given the unprecedented situation they found themselves in.
The earlier, muttered complaint burned in his ears. He was no Pavlovich and under normal circumstances would have no business sitting in the command chair. He needed to earn their respect, and quickly.
Things were bound to get worse, and without everyone pulling together, there was no way they would all come out of this alive.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Crew Uneasy
HAYDEN EXITED THE medical facility, far more keyed up than he had been on entering. His hope was that conferring with Pavlovich would prove helpful in the tense situation he now found himself in. From the beginning of his reluctant assumption of command, he had looked to the captain to provide mentorship through the rough parts.
“Consider yourself lucky Gunney had your back,” was all the help Pavlovich offered.
For every question he asked the old fool, he only received vague, backhanded affirmations he’d somehow stumbled across the right decision. It was infuriating, and he wondered if the man hadn’t suffered more severe brain damage than the doctor was willing to admit.
Perhaps Pavlovich realized their situation was completely beyond hope and truly had no insight to offer. After thirty years commanding a warship on the frontier, Hayden had hoped his mentor would be able to say something more encouraging than “you dodged a bullet on that one, didn’t you?” Maybe he was surprised the ship hadn’t blown up by now and had no other way to express his relief.
Hayden had never aspired to a long-term military career. His plan always was to serve only enough time to qualify for a transfer to the diplomatic corps. The DC would not consider him without some service, even if it were only time served safely behind a desk. It was considered a rite of passage Hayden was prepared to endure to achieve his ambitions.
The responsibility for the survivors on Scimitar was too much, and the sooner he could rid himself of the burden, the better. The problem was there was nobody among the present crew qualified or capable of assuming command in his stead. If a mutiny were successful, they would all be doomed, if not from the unknown hazards in this region of space, then from the inevitable infighting to see who would lead. Like it or not, with his academy training, he was the most qualified person aboard and the crew’s best chance of getting out of this mess.
One of the few useful outcomes of the meeting with Pavlovich was his suggestion to deploy security at critical locations. Though reluctant to rely on heavy-handed tactics, Hayden could think of no alternative. He seemed to have earned the loyalty of Gunney, and as a result, the rest of the Rangers. He would be a fool to not employ whatever allies he had to maintain order. Until the captain’s recovery, like it or not, he was in charge. It was time to start acting like it, or there would be no ship to hand back.
Unlike Pavlovich, he had no desire to hold meetings in his tiny quarters. Since there was no formal meeting room aboard, he commandeered a corner of the mess hall to serve as one. He entered to find Ishmael Gabriel bent over a collection of charts, maps, smart documents, and old-style paper notebooks. The man’s entire life’s work lay spread across a table. Hayden hoped he would one day be able to show as much for his efforts.
“It has been two days, Doctor. What can you tell me?”
Gabriel looked up, confusion on his face. “It should be here.”
“It would be helpful if I knew what you were speaking about.”
“According to my studies, this is the location of the Glenatat home world. All their star-gates should lead back to it.”
“There isn’t a star system within five light years of us, Doctor.”
“I know, I know. I just don’t understand why not. There was no ambiguity in my translations.”
Hayden leaned on the table and let his eyes drift across the complex notes and strange hieroglyphs. He could only take the scientist at his word.
“Well, the reality is that either your source is wrong, or you’ve misinterpreted the record. Now I need you to search through your data to find us anything else we can use.”
“My translation is not incorrect. Everything I predicted from the records was proved correct: the Malliac, their nature, the star-gate. How can all that be right and the most important detail not be? I need more time.”
“There is no more time, Doctor.”
“What do you mean?”
“We may have another day or two before things turn ugly on this ship. For now, the crew is preoccupied with ongoing repairs, but they are not happy. I need to provide them with a plan of action that at the very least appears like it has a chance of getting us back home. If that doesn’t happen, we could both find ourselves spaced before the week is out.”
The colour drained from the scientist’s cheeks. “What can I possibly do?”
Exasperated, Hayden flung one of the diagrams to the floor. “I don’t care, Doc. Look
for another wormhole or figure out a way to open up the one we passed through and get us back to our part of the galaxy.”
“But the Malliac are there...”
Before he could respond, the door to the mess hall opened and Warrant Officer Atan entered. Her head was still bandaged, but the doctors had cleared her for duty. Hayden had made her head of security. She approached, warily regarding the doctor. She spoke quietly into Hayden’s ear.
Nodding, he said, “Tell them I’ll be right there.”
As she spun on her heel and hurried from the room, a confused Ishmael Gabriel said, “What is it?”
“Three vessels of alien configuration are on rapid approach to us.”
“The Malliac?”
“I don’t think so. These ships are visible.”
Gabriel’s eyes widened. “The Glenatat found us.”
“Well, if they have, I hope they’re friendly and you know of a means to communicate with them, otherwise a mutiny will be the least of our worries.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The Glenatat
“SOUND GENERAL QUARTERS. Bring all available weapons online.”
Although he’d heard the order several times since his arrival on Scimitar, the words sounded strange coming from his mouth. Hayden hardly noticed the flurry of acknowledgements from the bridge stations as he focused his attention on the main viewer.
Still more than one hundred thousand kilometres away, the three approaching alien ships were far closer than necessary for full-scale resolution by Scimitar’s scopes. Even at this distance, every detail of their flawlessly beautiful hulls was discernible. Each one consisted of a central sphere, invisibly suspended inside an encircling nest-like globe of metallic rings. No obvious front, back, top, or bottom was apparent. They seemed more like metal-girded bubbles than interstellar spacecraft and looked anything but warlike.
He was not about to allow his guard to drop based on that kind of interpretation, however.
“Beautiful.” Ishmael Gabriel’s rapt attention to the holo-image told Hayden more than the man’s admiring comment.