by Tori Harris
2. GUARDIAN SYSTEM ENGAGED AND DESTROYED ALL VESSELS WITH ONE EXCEPTION.
3. TFS INGENUITY MAY SAFELY APPROACH THE COMBAT AREA AND RECOVER MATERIALS AS DEEMED APPROPRIATE.
"This message was received over the reserved command and control channels of NRD net and was formatted exactly as you see it here. According to the identifier information transmitted with the message, the origin was dead center of that battle area. We believe this to be the first direct communication from the Pelarans. Everything we’ve gotten from them before today has been via radio broadcast. We’ve also never received a message from inside the solar system."
"That’s the first time I’ve heard the name ‘Pelarans.’ Do we have any idea where ‘Pelara’ is?" Prescott asked, although he was pretty sure he knew the answer before the admiral could respond.
"We do not. We’ve seen the name a number of times over the years, but they don’t seem to be interested in letting us know where they come from. I guess if you’re going around the galaxy sharing information that can eventually be used against you, keeping the location of your homeworld a secret probably makes pretty good sense."
"Well we obviously have to head out there immediately, right?" Commander Reynolds asked. "Although that part about ‘destroyed all vessels with one exception’ isn’t exactly encouraging."
"We definitely have more questions than answers at this point, but we’ve been invited to come take a look, so that’s where the two of you are going straight away. There isn’t much point in building starships if you want to avoid situations with a high degree of uncertainty and risk."
Prescott and Reynolds glanced warily at each other as the admiral continued. "I need you both to review the procedures for a first contact situation. Other than the debris field from the battle, we’re not picking up anything in the area, but that doesn’t mean whoever or whatever ‘MAGI’ is won’t show up. It’s also possible that the last ship from the destroyed squadron will return to the area looking for survivors or salvageable materiel. If you encounter them, you will not assume that they are hostile just because the Pelarans say they are."
"I think we can safely assume they’ll be plenty pissed off, though," Reynolds commented, after which Prescott kicked her under the table with the side of his foot.
Patterson paused without comment, then continued. "Keep in mind that we do currently consider the Pelarans a provisional ally, simply because of the long-term, albeit one-sided, relationship we have with them. The bottom line is that we have a single, unarmed starship in our ‘fleet’ at the moment. Both of these civilizations are obviously capable of stepping on us like the bugs that we are, so it’s in our best interest to be as friendly as possible. I’m afraid that’s all the time I have. I’m going in to brief the Commander in Chief in two minutes. Get out there and report back as quickly as possible. Godspeed, Ingenuity. Patterson out."
The display screen on the wall immediately returned to a view of space off the ship’s starboard bow, currently centered on a spectacular view of the sun.
"So this is really how it starts?" Commander Reynolds gaped, incredulous. "You build your first starship, and within a few months the alien bad guys show up and Star Trek-style mayhem naturally ensues?"
"That thought occurred to me as well. I really don’t see how any of this could be a coincidence, the timing is just too …"
"General Quarters?" Commander Reynolds interrupted, grinning in spite of her best efforts to acknowledge the gravity of the situation.
Captain Prescott dropped his gaze to the floor, shaking his head in disbelief. "General Quarters."
Chapter 2
TFS Ingenuity, Near the Jovian Orbital Path
(0757 UTC - 9.5x108 km from Earth)
"Beautiful" was the adjective most people used to describe Ingenuity after seeing her for the first time. The graceful curves of her blended-body hull looked as if they might be more at home on a racetrack or a sailing vessel than in space, where boxy, utilitarian designs were all too common. In fact, the technological prowess of a spacefaring civilization could often be judged by the shape of its vessels. There were a variety of factors involved, including materials science and construction techniques, but the true differentiator was easy access to space from the planet’s surface. It turned out that civilizations often discovered one of several possible innovations that led directly to faster-than-light travel well before they developed complementary technologies that provided large scale, industrial access to low orbit. Earth’s nascent interstellar space fleet was a different story. Key advances made possible by MAGI data had allowed Ingenuity to be constructed in a factory environment on Earth. She was fully capable of vertical takeoff and landing from any planetary body where the force of gravity was less than 3 Gs, as long as the surface could support her nearly one hundred eighty thousand metric tons.
Ingenuity’s flight from Earth to this location, nearly one light hour away, had taken less than seven minutes, roughly doubling her best speed to date. Three hundred years earlier, the same trip had taken the Voyager space probes nearly two years.
From the perspective of a stationary observer near her destination, Ingenuity’s arrival was preceded by what looked like a distortion in the starfield and a muted flash of gray light, instantly resolving to her usual predatory appearance as the ship transitioned back into normal space. At just over two hundred meters in length and with a nominal crew of ninety-seven, she was smaller than the largest naval vessels back on Earth. If Human hands had ever fashioned a vessel to emphatically look like a warship, however, it was Ingenuity. Although it seemed a bit ironic, or perhaps wishful thinking given her lack of armament, Terran Fleet Command had designated the ship "IFF-1," the first of a new class of interstellar frigates.
"Secured from hyperspace flight," Lieutenant Lau announced. "Sublight engines online, we are free to maneuver."
"And our position, Lieutenant Lau?" asked Captain Prescott.
"Sorry for the delay, sir, the nav system’s AI should improve its speed and accuracy each time we transition from hyperspace. We are seven meters from our expected transition coordinates."
"Very well, Mr. Lau."
"Contacts!" yelled Lieutenant Sagari Dubashi at the Sensor console with a little more eagerness than she intended. "Multiple contacts, Captain, but only minimal power signatures."
The lieutenant issued a series of commands to display the information from her Sensor console on the view screen surrounding the bridge. With the exception of the ship’s dual antimatter reactors, the bridge itself was the most heavily armored section of the ship. Since this design feature required the bridge to be safely ensconced in the center of Ingenuity’s hull, an enormous screen was used to provide a panoramic view of the space surrounding the ship. Although breathtakingly beautiful at times, the default view was often of limited value since there was typically nothing to see other than an empty starfield.
In response to the commands issued from the Sensor console, a series of pulsating green ovals appeared as an overlay to the starfield. There were initially hundreds of these on the screen in every direction, but the contacts were quickly filtered to objects greater than fifty meters in length. This decluttered the display significantly, but there were still seventeen objects within two thousand kilometers of their current position. In the upper right section of the screen, a window opened to display a highly magnified optical sensor view of the largest contact in the immediate vicinity.
The captain leaned forward in his command chair. "Let’s see that window full-screen, please."
"Aye, sir," Dubashi responded smartly as the window slid to the left and expanded to fill the center of the display. The Sensor console now provided textual information at various points on the screen surrounding the object, including its estimated mass, physical dimensions, and power output. The object appeared to be the stern section from one of the larger ships in the destroyed formation. In spite of its nearly five-hundred-meter length, it was completing a full rotation e
very three seconds relative to Ingenuity, its six huge engine nozzles coming into view with each revolution.
Everyone aboard had received a hastily prepared mission briefing, including video showing the destruction of the unidentified ships, before leaving Earth. In spite of their having some idea of what to expect when they arrived at the scene of the battle, the tension on the bridge rose perceptibly as the reality of the situation started to sink in. Barely an hour ago, and literally in Earth’s backyard, an epic battle had been fought right here. The world-changing implications of this fact were difficult to grasp. First contact from the species everyone was now referring to as the Pelarans more than fifty years earlier had made it clear to all of Humanity that they were not alone in the cosmos. Until today, however, most members of Ingenuity’s crew had still held the comfortable, but naïve view that this relatively benign section of the galaxy was theirs to explore and claim on their terms. All of this was to be accomplished with the benevolent, selfless help of their distant neighbors. Clearly, things had just gotten dramatically more dangerous and complicated.
Sensing uncertainty and perhaps even a hint of fear on his bridge for the first time, Captain Prescott spoke up. "OK everyone, eyes on me. Standby crew, please step in as well." He paused for a moment to allow the five crewmen in the lounge to file in along the portside wall. After his XO and all ten members of his bridge crew had stopped what they were doing and turned to look him in the eyes, he continued. "When I was in pilot training and would start to get wrapped around the axle about something while trying to fly, my instructor pilot would take the stick and say, ‘I’ve got the aircraft, Lieutenant, now clear your head for a second and wiggle your fingers and toes!’"
The tension eased a bit as grins appeared around the room. There were even a few polite chuckles at the captain’s obvious, but appreciated attempt at levity.
Grinning himself and looking directly at each member of the bridge crew individually, he began again. "I was a hotshot young fighter pilot, so it sounded like a bunch of nonsense to me, but it actually did work to help me settle down and refocus. I need all of you to do the same now. I’ll be the first to admit that this is a totally unexpected, and, frankly, screwed-up situation we find ourselves in. It’s easy to see how anyone could feel a bit overwhelmed, but, hey, at least we’re out here, right?"
Muffled sounds of agreement at this.
"Right?" he asked again, louder and more emphatically this time.
This time, all eleven members of his bridge crew echoed the same tone their captain had used, responding in unison with a resounding, "Yes, sir!"
"Damn right we’re out here, and now that we are, we’re going to stay out here! Yes, we’re new at all of this, and no, we can’t take on one of those warships yet," the captain paused, allowing the implication that it was just a matter of time to hang in the air like an open challenge, "but this is our home and, if necessary, we will find a way to defend it. For now, though, our mission isn’t fighting. Our mission is information gathering, and as far as we know, we’ve got the best ship in the galaxy to accomplish that mission. So, I just need everyone to relax and do your jobs just like you were trained – just like you did during our shakedown cruise. All this sci-fi bullshit going on outside," the captain jerked his thumb towards the view screen, "doesn’t change a thing. Besides, I dare one of you to tell me this isn’t what you signed up for!"
The effect on the bridge crew’s disposition was dramatic. Grinning nods of approval were exchanged all around and an air of resolute confidence seemed to wash over the bridge.
"Now let’s get back to work, folks. I need every one of you focused, but relaxed, so you can do your jobs."
As the standby crew exited to the lounge and the active bridge crew returned their attention to their individual stations, Reynolds caught her captain’s eye and silently mouthed a single word: "Nice." Prescott gave her a quick wink as he returned to his seat.
"Where were we, Lieutenant Dubashi?"
"Sir, the object on-screen appears to be the stern of one of the larger ships. The section you see highlighted does indicate minimal power output; most likely that’s what’s left of their power plant. The portion of the hull that is open to space is highly radioactive, but I believe we can safely approach from the stern."
"That rate of spin is a bit of a problem though," the XO observed. "We can synchronize our motion, but it would still be very disorienting during an EVA."
Prescott used the trackpad on the arm of his command chair to freeze the spinning half-ship on the view screen, then increased magnification and began examining the hull as far away from the damaged area as possible. "An extravehicular activity? That’s pretty aggressive, Commander. Is that what you’re thinking we should do here?"
"I think aggressive is exactly what’s called for, Captain. No matter how you look at it, we’re playing catch up on current events in our own solar system."
"Sir," Lieutenant Dubashi interrupted, "I think I’ve found the other half of that ship. It’s only three hundred kilometers away and barely spinning at all."
"Great, let’s see it."
The image of the spinning ship’s stern moved back up to the right-hand corner of the view screen while shrinking back to its original size. One of the green, pulsating ovals superimposed on the starfield pulsed red three times before it was also greatly magnified and took its place in the center of the screen.
"Once again, the area near the hull breach is dangerously radioactive, but the bulkheads inside the hull provide sufficient shielding after the first ten meters or so."
"Captain, I’m getting intermittent carrier signal readings from that ship. It could be some kind of comm gear still online, or a distress signal," Lieutenant Commander Thomas Schmidt said from his position at the Science and Engineering console. Although Schmidt was the senior bridge officer after the captain and XO, this was the first time he had spoken up since leaving Earth.
The captain sat back in his command chair. "That’s starting to sound a little more interesting. Helm, move us to within ten kilometers, nice and slowly. There’s quite a bit of debris in the area, so I want the Science and Sensor consoles scanning for any potential conflicts."
"Aye, sir," came the expected simultaneous response from all three stations.
"Reynolds, I guess you’re going to want to take a little stroll over there and see what you can find out."
"On my way, sir," the XO replied, already heading for the door.
***
Although they were new to faster-than-light travel, Humans had been conducting EVAs, or "spacewalks" as they were sometimes still referred, for over three centuries. Once large, orbital facilities were constructed in the late twenty-first century, the equipment and techniques for working in space had become quite advanced. Over the past twenty years, however, bits of ETSI-derived technologies had found their way into the equipment required for working in space outside the bounds of a spacecraft. Like most other Human activities that relied on cutting edge technology, the result had been nothing short of revolutionary.
By the time Sally Reynolds made her way to the stern flight deck after changing out of her uniform, Master Sergeant Antonio Rios and two of his TFC Marine Corps spec-ops troops were fully geared and waiting for her near the personnel airlock.
"Good morning, Commander Reynolds," he greeted as she walked across the flight deck to meet him. "You sure you want to go over there, ma’am? We’ll be happy to check things out first if you like."
"Good morning to you, Top, and hell no you’re not leaving me out of this! You do realize this is the first time in history we’ve boarded an alien vessel, right?"
"Yes, ma’am, I do. A potentially hostile alien vessel, and that’s why I’m not so sure it makes good sense for you to go."
At six feet six inches and two hundred twenty pounds of meticulously sculpted muscle, Rios was an intimidating presence when wearing his regular uniform, but in his combat EVA suit he was simply a monster. Al
l of Ingenuity’s Marines were cream of the crop, but Rios always reminded her of some sort of comic book action hero.
"I’m going."
"Understood, Commander. This being a potential combat op ..."
"You are in tactical command until we ascertain the situation at the target," she interrupted, undeterred.
"Yes ma’am. Please just allow the three of us to clear each area before you enter. You will see the areas we have cleared shaded in green in your HUD. Now, if you’re good to go," Rios gestured to her EVA suit and pulse rifle ready and waiting near the equipment locker area, "then suit up and we’ll be on our way."
"Yes, Master Sergeant Rios." By addressing Rios in this formal manner, Commander Reynolds acknowledged his command of the mission.
Without further comment, she stepped to her EVA suit on the bulkhead-mounted rack. The suits were designed to be entered from the rear without assistance and combat ready within ten seconds of activation. In most cases, each crew member trained for EVA combat ops was assigned their own suit, but they were designed such that one of three sizes would fit just about anyone likely to need one. As Reynolds approached the front half of her suit, synthetic carbon fibers remarkably similar in function to Human muscle tissue contracted to perfectly match the unique curves of her body.
Rios automatically turned to stare down his two Marine troopers. The sight of EVA combat armor growing breasts and hips was universally more than two twenty-two-year-old, testosterone-laden males could handle without laughter or inappropriate comment.
"Nice rack, huh guys?" Reynolds teased without even looking in their direction. She had never been one to shy away from banter with the boys and could hold her own in hand to hand combat with any member of Rios’ squad.
One of the Marines looked as if he was about to respond to the commander’s obviously rhetorical question, but Master Sergeant Rios took a step in his direction with a look that dared the young trooper to say just one damn word. The young Marine held his hands up in mock surrender and took a step back, abruptly ending the potential for any additional banter, appropriate or otherwise.