Beyond The Frontier

by J Malcolm Patrick

  Lieutenant Rayne was fast on the pedal cycle, average in the water, and reasonably quick on the run. Varying levels of fitness was the biggest challenge for all the candidates. That and the will. Would they have the will to complete the grueling exercise?

  There was one minor but very important issue the candidates were not aware of. Each member of a group carried part of a code which when combined by proximity near the finish, disengaged the electric barrier to cross the threshold.

  The instructors had drilled it into them—if you failed the exercise, you failed the program. It wasn’t true, but it was a sacred secret.

  The Academy designed the exercise to encourage participants to help each other complete it. The course itself wasn’t indicative of your ability. Just completing it in the generous time was all that was required.

  Five hours later, Rayne’s group dropped their pedal cycles and rested. Their group was the last. Everyone else had finished. They tried their best to aid a struggling group member along, but Lieutenant Commander Stuart slowed them down during the swim and the ride. He just didn’t have anything left for the run.

  There was much arguing in the group. The monitoring drone overheard everything.

  “We can’t just leave him,” one said.

  “If we don’t complete this, the past six months would have been for naught,” another argued.

  “If we leave him, he’ll fail,” someone else said.

  Stuart lay flat. “I’m done. I can’t go another meter. Nothing works. I can’t put one foot in front the other.”

  He was huge too. Not overweight. Just three heads taller than all of them. He’d grown up on a half-g world. Any kind of physical activity in one-g took its toll.

  “Aaron, we have to do something and carry him,” someone said.

  Rayne shook his head. “We’ll never make it. If we carry him at that pace, with the time we’ve lost, we’ll fail. I’m gone.”

  Lieutenant Rayne stood and began his run.

  Three hours later Rayne and his team huddled by the barrier. The rest had hoisted the incapacitated Stuart and carried him.

  Avery approached Aaron.

  “Why did you leave your group, Lieutenant?”

  “The mission is paramount. My mission was to finish the exercise, same as everyone else. I did it.”

  “You finished. But you didn’t bring the code.”

  “What code?”

  “The code Stuart carried. Everyone had a code. Everyone a role. You left him behind.”

  Aaron shrugged. “He’s one person. For the good of a mission a captain might have to sacrifice a crew member or possibly more for the ultimate good.”

  “How do you determine the ratio of what is acceptable?” Avery asked.

  Rayne raised both eyebrows. “Ratio?”

  “Ratio . . . Lieutenant Commander.”

  “Right, sorry. Lieutenant Commander.”

  “When would the amount of people become more important than the greater good? You said you couldn’t let one man ruin the mission. What if it was ten? A hundred? A thousand. When does it become too many?”

  Rayne shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “I suggest you search within yourself and find out, Rayne. That one man you left behind or that one man you sacrificed just might have been the one to save everyone. Just know that it isn’t and shouldn’t be just a numbers game.”

  Rayne just stared. The arrogant smug-faced future captain just blinked at him.

  When Rayne moved away, Avery took out his handheld. He appended a note to his assessment of Rayne.

  Silently, discreetly, rude.

  Chapter 21 – Special Crew

  “Delusional heroics and grand wayward ideals” – Rachael Delaine

  Bridge

  Phoenix

  Aaron surveyed the smattering of equipment lining the deck.

  Hammerhead was positioned behind Reliant, both facing the hangar doors. Off to the side of Hammerhead, the marines already donned their sleek, black combat armor and were checking the rest of their equipment.

  Just beyond them, Lee tinkered with his favorite projectile sidearm. He called it the new and improved version two-point-zero, but never elaborated on the improvements. Aaron wasn’t certain what use it was against combat armor, but for that Lee carried an HVKW—high velocity kinetic weapon. Similar in principal to the railgun on a starship, it used electromagnetic force to launch a high velocity slug.

  Lee wore a custom made suit to accommodate his bionic arm. Next to the rifle on the deck was a multi-barreled pulse blaster. Capable of discharging three-hundred pulse rounds per minute. Aaron shook his head.

  “Lee, that’s little big to lug around on an operation like this.”

  Lee stopped tinkering with the sidearm. “Quite right, Commander. I’m not taking that. I brought it from the armory for Star Runner. She doesn’t have any weapons, might come in useful.”

  Aaron looked at the weapon. “How will we mount it? Bolt it on to the hull?”

  Lee looked thoughtful for a moment. “That might work. A quick appli—”

  “No, Lee. We’ll figure out how to weaponize Star Runner, something along these lines. But for right now I think we’re good.”

  Lee shrugged. “I’ll just leave it in the weapons locker on her cargo deck for now then. Never know when you need to bring the pain, Commander.” Lee hoisted the weapon and carried it up Star Runner’s ramp inside the cargo bay.

  Aaron moved to look over the other equipment. Special Forces was usually synonymous with special “toys”.

  The marines handled an assortment of military drone variations, designed for recon or combat purposes, and deployable turrets and barricades. There were high and low tech variations of each.

  Over by Reliant, Rachael looked all set. She had on a blue flight suit and held her helmet tucked underneath her arm.

  She looked up while adjusting her flight suit. “We’re ready.”

  Aaron looked over her. “Remember, recon only. You get as much information as safely as possible. Don’t compromise your position for intelligence. It’s just going to be the two of you for a while.”

  “I’m sure Reyes will teach me everything about starships in the time we have.”

  There was an awkward silence. He took a moment to freeze an image of her in his mind. Her blue eyes and short dirty-blond hair cropped by her flat ears. Smooth plain features and that warm smile.

  A smile that could for some brief moments make you forget where you were and what you were doing. Make you forget the things that seemed to be the most part of you.

  As if she knew what he was thinking, her smile widened.

  What was he saying? Ah. “Once we’ve located Endeavor’s crew. We’ll signal you and withdraw near the wormhole. Hopefully, the task force will be on the other side. I want you to promise me something, Rachael.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “Promise me if you need our help, you’ll call. Don’t let delusional heroics and grand wayward ideals lead you to believe you can’t signal for help, simply because it places the crew at risk. I’m not leaving you out here if you run into difficulty. I’m not leaving anyone. Your task is long-term recon only.”

  She hesitated but finally said, “Delusional heroics and grand wayward ideals . . . are you sure you don’t mean someone else?” She left off the—“such as yourself”—part. But he heard it anyway.

  He pressed his lips together in a fine line and fixed her with a glare. “Rachael.”

  Her shoulders dropped. “I promise.”

  He circled the group and stood to the fore. Everyone looked up. A feeling of dread consumed him. That darkness that was so close to the surface threatened to overwhelm him. Once they left the ship, they would be beyond his help. Each carried with them a part of him. Sending your family—professional soldiers or not—to war was gut wrenching. He bit the inside of his gum, blinking back tears. Keep it together.

  “This is likely the last time we’ll a
ll be together in the same place, for a long time. Take a good look around you. If you find yourself hunted by a terrible enemy. If you’re out-gunned and overwhelmed by hopeless odds. These are the people who will be there to even those odds, or right there fighting to the last breath with you. You’re a part of a special crew now. If you look around you and you don’t see your crewmate, do not be alarmed . . . because he’s standing behind you, where he should be, guarding your back.”

  Aaron didn’t believe in goodbyes, but rather farewells. Farewell, until we meet again. The away teams exchanged farewells with Ayres, Zane and him.

  “Commander, me and my team have been together a long time. But we’ve never had a place to call home. If it was up to me. It would be Phoenix.” Sergeant Dawes said.

  Aaron clapped the young marine on the shoulder. “In my mind, Sergeant, it already is.”

  “Give ‘em hell, Commander,” Ubu said.

  “We’ll get our boys and girls, Commander. No worries,” Chen said.

  Reyes came next. “Commander, don’t burn out my engines before I get back. You know I do all the real work around here,” he said, glancing over at the Master Chief who grunted in return.

  “No promises, Reyes. But I’ll try my best.”

  “Commander,” Lee said. “I can’t be in two places at once, so don’t get into any problems while I’m gone. You know how it is with you.” Lee said.

  “I promise not to board any enemy ships and wrestle with the crew while you’re gone.”

  And finally Rachael.

  Neither of them spoke. Awkward again. Somewhere distant in his mind he noticed the others move off to give them space.

  They both began to speak.

  “Please . . . you first, Aaron.”

  He smiled. “There’re many things I’d like to tell you. Perhaps in another life. I don’t think this one is willing to compromise where we’re concerned.”

  “A spy and a starship captain,” she nodded. “Not a happily ever after combination.”

  “We did make some progress.”

  “How so?”

  He snickered. “Well, when we first met you were a rigid robot if I rec—”

  She threw her arms around him.

  He stood motionless at first. Then hugged her back.

  “All kidding aside, we did actually make progress,” he told her.

  She let him go and locked onto his eyes. She probably wondered if another snide comment was about to come out. None would, even if he could think of one.

  “You’re a former spy. That means there’s always hope for the future.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. One ran away down her cheek. He wiped it with his thumb. Damn, now his vision was blurry.

  “Better get going before we break down in front the crew.”

  She nodded and headed towards Reliant. A few minutes later Reliant lifted off the hangar deck.

  He knew one day he’d have to make certain sacrifices being a starship captain. And this was one of those days.

  Chapter 22 – Saddle Up

  “Good luck gentlemen. I’ll see you when I see you” – Yuri Miroslav

  Main Bridge

  Phoenix

  Aaron emerged from the lift on the bridge. Zane was at ops, and Ayres operated the helm. Max was in sickbay prepping it to treat any surviving members of Endeavor’s crew. Garrett was in engineering.

  “This is almost perfect,” Aaron said. “I specialized in tactical before command school, and XO you trained along a starship maneuvers track before your recent command training.”

  She shrugged. “Even so, Commander, I’m not Yuri Miroslav.”

  “Don’t even think about it, XO, no one is Yuri Miroslav. That boy has piloting instincts I’ve never seen or heard of. It’ll come back to you naturally. I’m sure I’ll miss a few shots over here. He met her gaze. “I’m not Lieutenant Lee.”

  Aaron turned to Zane. “Lieutenant, you helped enhance the current generation of starship sensor suites, and you consulted on the construction of this ship. I feel like Shepherd couldn’t have done us any better.”

  Zane beamed. “I’m grateful for your confidence, Commander, but you know I lack combat experience. I’m not so thrilled about being shot at in space. You’ve probably noticed that…”

  Aaron didn’t think any less of him for it. It wasn’t even a consideration. “I think you’ll find you’re more than up to the task, Herman. Just focus on your station, don’t overlook anything, and if you have a suggestion, don’t hesitate to speak up.”

  “Thank you.” He looked down at his board. “All systems nominal, except the kinetic barrier. Only the previously primed gravitic charges are available.”

  “Good,” Aaron said. “XO, just cautious maneuvers. If I have something special in mind, I’ll walk you through it. Evasive is at your discretion.”

  “Aye, Commander. Tactical maneuvers on your orders, evasive at my discretion.”

  It was part of the built in redundancy of this crew. Everyone had cross training in the various disciplines.

  Expert in one, jack of some trades.

  Similarly, Max and Flaps received ongoing instruction in varied military subject matter. If Zane found himself piloting the ship, he could move and turn it, accelerate or decelerate, but navigating in three dimensions, with a tactical intent while maintaining orientation, factoring in the movement of any potential hostile ships quickly, and compensating was beyond his skill level.

  Beyond ninety percent of most Fleet personnel’s skill level.

  Similar to how he or Ayres would struggle to interpret raw data at the ops station or sort through it without the computer’s help.

  Information warfare was a huge part of space and ground combat in the twenty-fifth century. Counter measures and counter-counter measures constantly fought an unseen battle between missiles and electronic warfare systems.

  On the ground, energy dampeners could render powered devices useless. Weapons, and logistical tools all had their own counter measures to such things, sometimes a device would resist the dampening field for some time before it was overwhelmed.

  Sometimes depending on the strength of the field, and the military grade of the hardware, the equipment might be unaffected. Other times it wouldn’t work at all.

  It really hurt to deploy a squad of twenty-foot mechanized soldiers only to have them shut down by electronic warfare.

  It’s why modern militaries and space-navies had built in old school equipment and tactics for soldiers along with all the new fancy tech. While it might be efficient to jet pack across a battlefield, said jetpack became deadweight if it failed.

  Same thing with weapons. Your kinetic rifle could suddenly be as useful as a dull battle axe. That’s where mechanical tech such as projectile firearms came in. There was no fancy tech to rely on exclusively.

  Just good old-fashioned grit and will power.

  Aaron pushed thoughts of the next hour from his mind. They’d been over the plan several times—even rehearsed it. It was like an exam. You knew what you knew. Obsessing over it wouldn’t do anything but give you heartburn.

  Hopefully, a little blind luck would overcome any mistakes.

  Still, Aaron couldn’t sit still. He was liable to pull out his hair. So the first hour he paced the deck. Vee always used to say he’d wear the deck plating. The second hour he paced the ready room, he didn’t want to unnerve poor Herman any further.

  The gravity wave dispersion masked their high-warp approach to the star system. They’d transitioned well outside the system in interstellar space to avoid detection from any detection networks and eased down the gravity well. The next part of the plan called for precise timing.

  The story Lee and Flaps told him about the horse thieves on Paradise flashed in his mind. An image of Flaps galloping on horseback floated in the air. He smiled to himself as he took the tactical station.

  Aaron opened a comm to Hammerhead. “Saddle up boys. Fifteen minutes to destiny.”

 
; There was a distinct sound of laughter in the background. “We’re ready, Commander.” It was Yuri’s voice.

  Aaron studied the passive sensor returns. There was no such thing as true stealth in space. But there were ways to make an object harder to detect. Strict emission protocols, exotic starship materials (which admittedly was the real bottleneck in future ships of this class), and the gravity wave dispersion technology hid them from the twenty-fifth century version of twenty-first century interferometers.

  Most orbital and star system military detection grids deployed these orbital interferometers, each as large as the International Space Station constructed in the twentieth century. However, once you got close enough, there just was no magical solution to avoid detection by a powerful enough sensor grid.

  Unless you had a Valkyrie-class starship, like Phoenix.

  That was the advantage she held. With the gravity wave dispersion and other stealth technologies, she could get within one light-hour of the best-known detection arrays. From there, the likelihood of detection depended on the power of the sensor net and any distinct capabilities it might possess.

  Those sensor arrays consumed an astronomical amount of energy and weren’t cheap to maintain, even if subsidized with power from a nearby star.

  For any other ship one light-hour wouldn’t have been an advantage, they couldn’t engage the ORA picket ships from that distance, but Phoenix had the micro-jump drive. She could make short instant warp-hops inside a star system.

  They were two light-hours from the two picket ships on this orbit of the planet. The other two had gone beyond the planet’s curvature.

  “We’re locked and loaded,” Aaron said.

  “Commander?” Herman queried.

  “Sorry. I’ve deployed guns. I’m going to give those ships everything on this pass. I don’t want them turning this into a chase.”

  “I’m ready to initiate the jump,” Ayres said.

  “Then by all means, XO. Punch it.”