Ryan remained on the bridge shift after shift, impatiently waiting while the technicians sweated over the repairs. But things soon turned from bad to worse.
The engineering teams had to shut down all the main power conduits. Every critical system went offline, with the exception of environmental control - no navigational control, no shields.
General Lortay boarded bringing with him plans to organize multiple teams to test the remaining weapon's systems - from turret guns to missile launches.
Ryan ordered engineering to patch auxiliary power feeds for the tests. He watched Lortay as he worked, noted his disciplined style of command, the easy way he moved his troops about. He could only wonder if he could inspire others to follow him like that. He dismissed an annoying tinge of jealousy.
How could he be so immature?
The Signite General was anything if not thorough. The work was completed ahead of schedule with some encouraging results - remarkably few of the weapons had failed.
Lortay passed on the news personally, visiting the Commander on the bridge.
"At least we’re not completely defenseless," was Ryan’s only reply, irritated by the number of problems they were experiencing. He glanced over at tactical - the odd asteroid, chunks of ices.
Still quiet.
He turned to catch Lortay just as he was stepping into the turbo-lift.
“By the way - good job, General.”
Lortay nodded back, a trace of a smile on his face.
"Power may be limited, but we’ll get the troops going on some drills. We’ll use any piece of junk we can afford to eject out into space for target practice."
"Good idea, General."
Across the deck, Kanook glanced up from the tactical. His face reflected the greenish hue emanating from the navigation globe, making him look pale, almost sickly. “I’ve just initiated a long-range scan. I estimate that could pull at least 10 % out of our reserves."
"Take what you need, Kanook. We need to know what’s out there.”
"Commander," McClary called from below. "Our lads have just passed on some more good news. Power is restoring, all systems are coming back online."
Ryan smiled down at McClary. “Now that’s good news.”
The Earthman was seated at one of the few working consoles that had been spared from the creature's rampage through the bridge. The damage the thing had done in its brief attack was considerable.
“And weapons?”
“Both port, and one starboard cannon showing on standby. Engineering says they’re ready.”
"Are you sure they'll hold this time?" Ryan asked, somewhat sarcastically.
"The lads think they've nailed down the problems."
"Alright then, relay the order - we retest in 60."
"Testing in 60 seconds!" repeated McClary over the intercom.
Ryan leaned against the upper deck rail, staring down into the navigation globe. A small blue dot was moving slowly, parallel to their course, approximately one hundred and sixty thousand kilometers beyond the ship. It was a comet, tail-less in the dead of space with no star to heat it. It would make a perfect target and a lucky find, considering the emptiness of the area.
The countdown started with an announcement by a gentle female voice. Gem, through Ryan’s request, had reprogrammed the bridge computer to use Trinarieit and integrated the gender to catch the attention of the predominately male bridge crew, which he suspected, in time, would also change.
“McClary, lock onto that comet. Use both port cannon and the functioning starboard one.”
"5..4..3..2..1."
The three cannons fired simultaneously, with a massive low-thundering wave reverberated throughout the ship. On the tactical, the small blue dot winked out of existence. Ryan reached for the console near the apex of the globe and pressed in a few commands. Tmaurau's face appeared on the viewscreen above them. "That was pretty far away, Tmaurau. Have you calculated the cannon’s range at full power?"
"We have. If we can trust these test results, and there is no reason why we should not, a fully charged, simultaneously focused blast would maintain a 75% concentration before dispersal decomposition to a distance of about 10 million kilometers. That estimation is taking into consideration standard space/matter density. It is an impressive statistic."
"I'd say. We’ll be able to poke a hole in a Xi-cruiser's hull and still keep well out of their weapon’s range. Do as many tests as you can, but ensure the total reserves do not drop below 40%. You'll be competing with everyone else, including Lortay’s men on the turrets. Just keep in mind that I want to have power available if we need it. Give me a full report when you're done."
Lortay's image appeared within the holograph, his head floating in a green opaque sea. Yet another technological perk buried within the navigation globe.
"Commander, our first training round has been assessed and our gunners are going to need some more work."
"As expected, get them in shape, General. There is no telling when we will encounter the enemy. I expect every one of them to know their controls intimately. Tell them to sleep in the turrets if they have to. Do we have any disabled turrets?"
"A good number, but nothing we can't fix with the proper tools and know-how."
“How about the missile launch crew?”
“Well, there’s a problem there – we have limited ordnance, and I am hesitant to use our reserves – millennia old or not.”
“Do what you can. As soon as the drive repair teams get freed up, I'll have one of the teams report to you. I can’t give you any more manpower. The others are assigned to overhauling the cannon cooling systems. Tell those engineers I want every turret online in three shifts."
"We're also assessing the missiles. Most of these existing lovelies are dead. Too many years on their berths I imagine. We're still hunting for some live ones."
"Fire off some of the duds to test the launching mechanisms. We'll need to tear a few apart to see if they have any secrets we don't already know. We should be able to resurrect them if we understand how they’re put together."
"Very good, Commander," he saluted as his image evaporated.
“They’re warming up the burners, Commander,” Kanook stated.
“Excellent. I think I owe Tmaurau a holiday after today. He's been leading two main repair jobs over the past six shifts with little to no rest."
Kanook nodded back an acknowledgment, but his eyes didn’t shift away from his monitors.
"What is it?"
"It might be nothing, but I'm getting something. Too far away to know exactly what."
"Can you bring it up?"
A fuzzy area of yellow swirled into formation on the north-east corner of the globe. "Could be a cloud of gas, ejected debris, anything."
Ryan watched the faint image for a few moments. "But you don’t think so, do you? I have a feeling about this too... What direction?"
"Toward the Corvellian quadrant. Give me some time and I'll nail down the speed. I’m still figuring this thing out." He punched some more requests into the console. "If it's a Xi-fleet, it could be headed for spaceport G0015-A."
Ryan pondered, "Last report I read, that was still under Purist control. Hell, this could be a Zigot League invasion fleet. Maybe they're mobilizing, taking on the offensive. Our last intel shows that the Purists are in deep, and they've gained some key territory. Keep an eye on that signature. As long as they stay the hell away from here, I won't care.”
* * *
Ryan returned to the bridge on the third shift. The engineering teams were on schedule. The weapons systems were scheduled to be completely restored by the end of the shift. The bridge had been brought back to functioning state, and the drive systems were online and ready.
Ryan engaged the intercom. “This is the Commander speaking, I want to recognize the hard work that everyone has put forth to get this ship operational again, and our fleet is mobilized once more. Thanks to you we are on our way.”
He close
d off the intercom.
Wasn’t much of a speech but it was to the point.
“Helm, let’s get this fleet moving. Navigation, use a 10 degree trajectory masking.”
A ship, moving through space, flew with specific intention – to get from point A to point B. Unfortunately, an enemy vessel could easily extrapolate an observed ship’s destination. Ryan had ordered the fleet to move in a three-dimensional zig-zag. They did, after all, present a large signature on a tracing scan. This would, of course, add time to their trip, and expend additional tracing probes each time they changed direction.
* * *
The end of the third shift was the beginning of the ‘night’ cycle on the mothership. Every night, Ryan and Aviore returned to the Dancing Queen, which was now berthed in docking bay six.
They were becoming familiar with each other’s behavioral perks, becoming accustomed to each other. Aviore enjoyed a specific type of Signite tea and preferred to read before bed.
Ryan chose to meditate, attempting to achieve what he had experienced on Shawma. It was not easy. He had been successful only a few times. On Earth, some would call it ESP, to others, it would be the work of the devil. To the Showmish it was natural, and to the Xeronians it was an experience that came in a vile. Ryan knew what it was. It was evolution, either forced on by the vaskpar or triggered by a drug. Either way, it didn't matter. He was experiencing unfathomable things. Indistinct, unclear at best, but something truly amazing. But he had no one to guide him, no chemical to boost his powers. When his sessions ended unsuccessfully, sometimes with a splitting headache to show for his efforts, he often wondered whether it was worth it.
Aviore joined him, more out of curiosity than anything else. She was somewhat skeptical of the whole thing, but her attitude soon changed.
Once Ryan was able to achieve the absolute concentration he required, success soon followed. It came in stages: disorientation, followed by the sensation of physical detachment from his body, followed by, well even he couldn’t explain it.
He would drift, life flowing around him would appear as a warm glow. The farther out he would move, the more he would see, like fireflies in the night were the souls of the living.
Aviore was always familiar to him, somehow. The first time he touched her, he felt her surprise. The sensation was incredibly close. He withdrew quickly. It was more than a strange sensation to share another's mind. Maybe reality, maybe everything was a dream. He took a deep breath, felt his lungs fill with air.
Did his lungs fill with air? Or was his mind playing games with him? Does it matter? HishTar had told him to let go.
What the hell.
Feeling a little braver, he pulled away. The world around him expanded. The lights of the others faded to dots. He was traveling through space, a wingless bird of energy. He passed planets of lush green and orbs of ice. Space and time were meaningless here, lost in the maelstrom of color under the alternating, swirling streams of darkness. He came upon an orange sun. Its heat beat down upon him with the light of a thousand Sols. He turned away, temporarily blinded. His vision speckled with a kaleidoscope of sparks, quieted onto a sphere. A small planet defined itself. A world of lush green continents and blue oceans enveloped by a transparent sphere of opaque white. It was a beautiful planet, but something seemed very wrong.
He moved closer and saw the shadows surrounding it. Ships - vessels of war - thousands of them, swarming around it, firing upon it ceaselessly. Their efforts were in vain. They could not penetrate the protective shield.
He watched as a new ship approached, much larger than the others. It moved in close, launched its poison and retreated. A stream of flame borrowed through the once impermeable guardian. It reached inside, and the stream widened, a cancerous red blotch painted itself onto the lush green and blue surface. It grew with terrifying speed, spreading, consuming. It engulfed the planet, transforming it into a ball of seething flame. Ryan felt sick. Echoes of pain screamed at him, the souls of millions dying.
The machines of war retreated, their evil now released.
Something else was changing. It was the star. He could feel its steady, persistent heat fluctuate. It was tearing itself apart inside, bulging, throwing out tongues of superheated plasma, its surface rippling in angry waves.
The dying sun swept outwards, consuming all in its path. The evil horde could not escape. Ryan dared to look into the face of the vengeful god of light. It was enough to feel it die a thousand deaths in an instant of time. It winked out, leaving him cold and alone.
A voice was calling him. He could feel a shaking. Images fractured into swirls of color, then darkness. The familiar returned. A sweet scent of perfume. His eyes opened to Aviore's concerned face.
"Ryan, you were barely breathing!" Her voice stressed to a new tenor.
He reached up. "It's alright," he said quietly. She calmed down, the lines on her forehead disappeared. "Thank God," she said in a soft whisper. "I thought you were dead."
"I’m OK."
She pulled away from him, suddenly, violently. "I don't like this. I don't like this at all." She circumvented the room quickly, turned and retraced her steps. "All the time you do this, this thing, I worry. You're meddling with something beyond our science, something scary.”
Tears came to her eyes. “I didn't - I don't know what to do." She said in a broken voice.
Ryan got up, his legs stiff from sitting cross-legged. He walked over and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm perfectly safe. I was just in a trance. It’s a natural physiological state."
She relented, her arms wrapped around him. "Just be careful, OK?"
He chuckled, "You're the one that married the Commander of the Galactic Alliance, remember?"
She frowned at him. "Don't pull that crap with me. I'm your wife now, and I can't help but worry. At least you have somebody that cares."
"Yes, I do."
“And I’m right most of the time, when I worry, I have a damn good reason.”
“Yes, you do.”
“What did you see, when you were in that trance?”
Ryan remembered the images clearly, as if it just happened. He could still hear their haunting cries.
"What's wrong? What did you see?"
"I saw... I saw the past maybe, I don’t know yet."
She caressed his cheek with the gentle touch of an evening breeze. "I don't understand you. You talk in riddles and see things no one else can. You are so different, like no one else I've ever met. Why don’t you tell me exactly what you saw? Maybe I can help you sort it out."
He looked into her brown eyes, his mind still lost in those cold and twisted dreams. "You don't want to know," he said softly.
"I do. I do want to know. I want to help you."
"I don't know what it means and I need time to think about it. It's too early for me to talk about it."
She looked at him, perplexed. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever really know you. There’s a piece of you in there you never show anyone – not even me. Why won’t you let me in?”
Ryan looked away, suddenly finding the floor very interesting.
“Or maybe you don’t want me in that close.”
“That’s not true,” Ryan retorted futilely.
A long moment of silence followed.
“Fine.” She reached for his hand. “Come on, let's go to bed. You can sleep on your little mystery. We'll be reaching the Signite base tomorrow and I need to work off some stress."
She pulled him into the bed.
He would be a fool to resist.
* * *
Before they were even a parsec from Gairf, Kanook was on the intercom. “Commander, we have a situation. We need you up here, now.”
Ryan didn’t bother with his uniform. Still half asleep, he dragged himself onto the bridge. He noticed Kanook’s features lacked their usual serene composure. Something was up.
"Tactical picked them up a few minutes ago. They’ve turned toward us.”
That woke him
up. He inspected the holographic images. Their signatures were unmistakable.
“Kanook, your analysis?”
"I estimate approximately one hundred ships, 10 of them cruisers. Xi-Empire signatures. They were headed for the Signite base, but they’ve altered course to intercept us instead.”
“Lovely.” Ryan reached for the intercom. “All hands. Condition Red. Assume battle stations."
“Confirming all available ships have left the docking bays,” stated Kanook, anticipating his next question.
Ryan nodded. “Com, open a shared channel to our fleet and keep it open.”
"Captains, our situation is serious. Lortay, McClary, Dorftal I want you to be point. Assemble three formations. Branch out 60 degrees in a triangular approach."
Man and alien, in a collection of ships of all shapes and sizes, broke away from the mothership in a multitude of directions. Any dead ships in tow were abandoned in haste, to be later retrieved - if they survived.
Ryan studied the holographic images, refining the tracing scan results to pan across different views. The tracings were invaluable, supplying images beyond what the standard electromagnetic spectrum could supply. From this distance, the human eye could see light, but it was over three years old, unusable in any respect. The tracings operated in an enhanced energy state, multi-dimensional, faster-than-light. Data flooded in, updating the holographic display continuously.
It was obvious the enemy force had diverted from their course, aborting their original target. He glanced down through the decking grid at the weapons control officers - three pale-faced humans and one Showmish. They were waiting for his command - they were all waiting on his command.
"Ready the cannon. Once we're in range, target the closest cruiser. One shot per, as our reserves are low, so make it count. Stay cool. Concentrate on the job."
They nodded back silently.
"Deploy shields to 80%."
Gigantic sheets of plating slowly rolled over the transparent ceramic-quartz panels, locking into place and draping the bridge in darkness. The odd internal light panels adjusted to compensate for the distant starlight.
A Bellicose Dance Page 54