The Ghost Fleet

by Trevor Wyatt

  "We need get after that ship as fast we can," I say, "What's the current FTL?"

  Ashley steps away from me, holding her tablet up. "We're at FTL factor of 1, but if we push to FTL factor of 5, we might be able to overtake them. They’re likely traveling at slower speeds. In addition, they don't know they're being chased. Yet."

  "Can you tell the navigations officer to plot a course at FTL 5?"

  She stares at me for a moment and then relents, "Yes." She opens her comm.

  "Crowder, set a course for Omarias sector. FTL factor of 5."

  "Yes, captain." She clicks off the comm.

  "I hope we're making the right decision, Jeryl."

  "Me, too," I say, "But I don't think we have much of a choice. We need to get to the bottom of this mess and we need to do it fast. If we want to avoid war, we're going to need to fight for peace. The longer it takes for us to rectify this situation the more the delegates will lose faith in coming together to build a galactic council.

  “We don't have time to wait for a better option. We have to act now. We need to figure out who the hells behind this and we need to stop them."

  Ashley looks grim, but I know she sees the logic in what I'm saying. I don't like playing chase either. I'd actually rather be getting something done with the galactic council. But because that has been screwed up, I have no choice but to do what I can to fix the situation as soon as possible.

  And if that means taking a ship full of disgruntled aliens and Terrans along for the ride, then so be it.

  Ashley

  The Seeker drops faster than light travels at the edge of the star system of the Omarias colony.

  “Engaging STL drive,” announces the navigations officer and then taps a couple of buttons on his workstation.

  There’s an almost indiscernible jerk as the ship heads in the direction of the brown planet ahead.

  I’m sitting on my chair and looking at the view screen. There are a lot of ships orbiting the planet. There’s also a massive space dock for smaller shuttles. This is what you should expect from a tax haven colony.

  “How long till we get within range of the planet’s gravitational field?” I ask the navigations officer.

  The navigations officer does the math. “Ten minutes, Captain.”

  “Captain, we are receiving communication from the Omarian Space Station,” says the navigations officer.

  I look at Jeryl, who is standing by a workstation to my right.

  “What do we tell them?” I ask him.

  I know that word would have spread all across the galaxy of what transpired at New Washington. If this exercise is truly being sabotaged by some unseen forces, then can we trust the Omarian authorities?

  “I’m not sure we can trust them,” Jeryl answers. “There are so many questions we have that I’m not sure we can trust anybody.”

  “I agree with you,” I say.

  “On screen.” I say to my communications officer.

  A seasoned blonde-haired man appears on the screen. He’s wearing Armada Command uniform and from his insignia, I can tell he is a commander. Maybe the highest ranking officer on the colony.

  When the man sees me, he snaps off a salute. Then I notice he’s standing in some sort of a control center. There are work stations about and a crew working.

  “My name is Commander Phillips of the Omarias II Space Station,” he says.

  “This is TUS The Seeker. I’m Captain Ashley Gavin and onboard this vessel is Vice Admiral Jeryl Montgomery of Armada Command.”

  A worried look creeps onto the commander’s face. Do you have anything to hide? I think to myself.

  “Are we in some sort of trouble?” he asks after I don’t say more.

  I cock my right eyebrow. “Have you done anything wrong?”

  The man frowns. “It’s just that I don’t have you on my schedule for arriving ships today, ma’am.”

  “This is Terran Union Space and you are a Terran Union Colony. Any Armada vessel can come here as and when they like and choose.”

  I am taking the hardline approach so he doesn’t begin to probe me for my reasons for coming. Better for him to be on the spot than me.

  “Of course, ma’am,” the man breathes. “It’s just that The Seeker is a harbinger of war and destruction. It is wise for a colony commander to ask questions when a ship like The Seeker appears in his long range scanners.”

  I have never heard my ship being referred to as a harbinger of war and destruction. I don’t exactly like it, but it is fitting. I suspect my ship also strikes fear in the heart of other species. Though, I can’t take credit for this reputation. It has been all Jeryl.

  I place my best smile on my face. “Be at peace, Commander. We are here on official Terran Armada business. Stand by. We will contact you if we need you.”

  “Roger that, ma’am,” he says. “You are cleared for approach.”

  I nod. “Captain Gavin out.”

  I cut the feed from my arm console.

  “Science officer, what can you tell me about this planet?” I ask. Then I add, “Just the juicy stuff.”

  The science officer pulls up the information from his console.

  “Omarias II is a colony that belongs to the Nova Corporation,” the science officer reads. “It was founded in 2172 and has grown to a current population of seventy five thousand people. It was declared an economic free trade zone shortly after its founding, which was the major drive for its quick development. Omarias II exempts inhabitants from a lot of laws within the Terran Union, both economic and otherwise.”

  “So, I am effectively looking at the lawless outlands?” I ask.

  “Correct, ma’am,” replies the science officer.

  “Scan the planet for signs of our quarry,” I say to the science officer. “Be as discrete as possible. Low power. Short range. I don’t want to raise suspicions yet.”

  “Your very presence here is suspicious, Ashley,” says Jeryl to my right.

  “Yeah, well I don’t want to raise suspicions more than they already are,” I say. “I’ve not given anybody reasons to believe I’m after them.”

  “Ma’am, I’m detecting the energy readings from the freighter that left New Washington,” says the science officer.

  “Where?” I ask.

  “At the far side of the planet,” replies the science officer. “It’s orbiting.”

  “Gotcha,” I mutter to myself.

  “Navigations. Bring us into orbit and place us directly beside the shuttle. Match its trajectory, please.”

  “Aye, captain,” the navigations officer says.

  Again, the ship sublight drive kicks the ship a little and we enter orbit. We gently maneuver our way past the many orbiting vessels until we come within range of the freighter.

  “Matching trajectory,” announces the navigations officer.

  “Tactical, what’s the status of our shields,” I say.

  “Shields are offline, captain,” the tactical officer replies.

  Before I say anything, the navigations officer says, “Trajectory aligned, Captain.”

  To the tactical officer, I say, “Raise shields.”

  “Hold on,” Jeryl says and the tactical officer hesitates.

  I glance at him for an explanation.

  “We’re trying not to raise suspicion aren’t we?” he says.

  “I have civilians on board this ship,” I reiterate to my husband. “One rightly torpedo from that freighter and the entire quarters of the delegates will be destroyed.”

  “Tactical, will you be able to get the shields up before we are fired upon from this range?” Jeryl asks the tactical officer.

  “No, sir,” the tactical officer says. “However, our systems will detect their weapons system going online, during which time we can raise our shields and engage powerful evasive maneuvers that they won’t be able to compensate for. And it is against Terran Union laws for a vessel’s weapons system to be online five hundred kilometers away from its atmosphere.”


  “Isn’t that law exempted in this colony?” I ask.

  The tactical officer checks his workstation for that information.

  “No, ma’am,” he says. “That’s why the freighter’s weapons system are offline.”

  “Okay, belay my last order,” I say, conceding to my husband’s wisdom.

  “Hail that freighter,” I order. “And put it on screen.”

  “Hailing,” the communications officer. After setting up the frequency, he begins to broadcast.

  “Unidentified Tyreesian freighter,” the communications officer says, “This is TUS The Seeker. Come in.”

  A diminutive, male Tyreesian appears on the screen. He looks at me as if I had woken him from a slumber. Accusingly.

  “I am Ashley Gavin, Captain of The Seeker,” I say. I feel Jeryl’s presence beside me.

  “What can I do for you, Captain,” the Tyreesian says with a hiss.

  “Were you in New Washington last week?” I ask.

  The Tyreesian man gives me an equivalent of a shrug. I take that for a yes and proceed.

  “What were you doing there?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, madam captain, I run a cargo business. What would I be doing in New Washington if not to deliver my goods?”

  I mutter to my husband, “Are all Tyreesians this uptight?”

  He chuckles. “You should see Leader Greer when he’s riled up.”

  “Too bad, we’ll never get to see him.”

  “Not if he’s dead,” Jeryl says. “What if he isn’t as Sanchez suggested?”

  I look back up at the Tyreesian. “What else did you do at New Washington?”

  “Nothing,” he replies, oblivious to my side conversation with Jeryl. “After delivering my goods, I left.”

  “How big is your crew?” I ask.

  “Fifteen.”

  “Do you know Leader Greer?”

  The Tyreesian becomes visibly agitated. As do I, when I realize I may be onto something.

  “Yes?” That was more of a question than an answer.

  “Have you been in contact with him, lately?”

  “The last I heard, he died in an explosion.”

  “Before the explosion?”

  The Tyreesian’s agitation increased.

  “Captain, I’m noticing increased levels of perspiration and heightened state of dread,” my science officer says to me. The Tyreesian doesn’t hear this.

  “He’s hiding something,” Jeryl mutters to me.

  “No,” the Tyreesian says.

  I pause and look the Tyreesian in his slits (which apparently they can see through). The next time I speak, my words are measured and heavy.

  “I will ask one more time, sir,” I say. “Did you have any contact with Leader Greer while you were on New Washington?”

  “No,” the Tyreesian replies, a bit too fast.

  “What business do you have in this star system?” I ask next.

  “Why?”

  “Just answer the question,” I say, feigning irritation. I know I have him on the run.

  “Look, human, the last time I checked, I am under no obligation to answer such questions,” the Tyreesian sneers a reply. “And as my permit is still valid for another two years. I have the right to conduct business within Terran Union space.”

  I open my mouth to reply, but the Tyreesian is speaking again.

  “If there is a problem, let me know so I can get a proper legal counsel,” he says.

  “That won’t be necessary,” I reply. “Have a good day and good luck.”

  I cut the feed.

  “He’s definitely hiding something,” Jeryl says to me.

  “Yeah, and I’m going to find out what.” I walk over to the science officer’s station, which is situated to the forward right of the CNC, just before the view screen.

  “Scan the freighter for signs of life,” I tell him.

  I watch the science officer execute the scan. “Twenty five, ma’am.”

  “The Tyreesians sent a ten-man delegate, including Greer himself, Jeryl says.

  I march to the center of the CNC right before the view screen.

  “Bring him back,” I order.

  The Tyreesian appears on the view screen again.

  “What now?” the Tyreesian blurts.

  “Our scans reveals that there are twenty five Tyreesians on board your ship,” I say, trying a gamble. It actually says twenty five life forms, which may include pets and animals.

  “You better start cooperating with me,” I proceed. “Otherwise I will send a boarding party and we will seize your ship.”

  The Tyreesian begins to sweat profusely, tugging his flight suit as though it all of a sudden became tighter.

  “You have no right to do so,” the Tyreesian replies.

  “I am a captain of a Terran Armada Battle Cruiser,” I reply through my teeth. “I’ve killed at least a hundred million Sonali during our war. You think I care?” I snarl. All the frustration at everything comes up. “I have every right to board your ship, seize it, and question your crew.”

  The Tyreesian begins to mutter nonsense to himself. His eyes begin to vacillate as his face progressively contorts into confusion.

  Without warning, the ship is jarred by an explosion on aft. Warning sirens erupt and fills the CNC.

  “What the fuck was that?” I yell, picking myself from the floor. “Shields up!”

  “Shields up,” tactical confirms.

  “What was that?” I ask again.

  “Ma’am,” the tactical officer says, “a Tyreesian warship has just emerged from behind the Omarian sun, where it has been hiding, and fired at us. Minimal damange.”

  Anger burns bright in my spirit. “Battle stations everyone!”

  Jeryl

  As soon as the ship is struck, my instinct is to take command. When Ashley looks at me with terror filled eyes, I realize this may very well be her first time in battle as a Captain, and going up against the Tyreesian is not something a green ship captain should be doing.

  “I am taking command of this ship for the duration of this engagement,” I say, taking my place on Ashley’s seat.

  I stretch my hands over the arm, feeling each buttons on the Captain’s console. Memories of the not-so-distant war comes to me.

  “Take us to high alert,” I say as I look around my surroundings.

  “Aye, Captain,” replies the tactical officer. Before long, a ship-wide alarm begins to ring. The CNC takes on a reddish tint as does the view screen.

  “Bring all weapons system online.”

  “Weapons system coming online,” says the tactical officer.

  “Damage assessment.”

  “Aye, Admiral,” the tactical officer replies. “We have minor fluctuations to power to our FTL. Decks thirteen and fourteen were breached, but they have been sealed.”

  “Any casualties?” I ask.

  “There were three ensigns in the holochamber, conducting their scheduled flight training sessions,” replies the tactical officer. “They were sucked out into space when we were hit.”

  “How the fuck did we not see the ship?” I roar. I see the vessel now. It is way bigger than The Seeker and has an angular geometry that accentuates its terrifying look.

  “They were hiding behind the sun, sir,” says the science officer. “The solar flares from the sun interfered with our scanners such that we couldn’t detect them.”

  “But how could they detect us?” I ask. “How did they know we were here? How the fuck did they get a firing solution so fast? And why weren’t we forewarned?”

  “Sir, their weapons systems may be well advanced than what we are used to,” the science officer says.

  “Conduct a tactical assessment of the ship,” I say. “I want to know what we’re going up against.”

  “Aye, captain.”

  “Sir, all ships in orbit are peeling away,” the navigations officer says. He looks at me for instructions.

  “Keep track on
the freighter and get ready to execute evasive maneuvers, if needed,” I say.

  “Communications, send a message to Armada Command,” I say. “Tell them we have just been fired upon by a Tyreesian Warship. Tell them we are going to defend ourselves.”

  “Aye Admiral,” the officer replies.

  “Admiral,” the science officer says. “My assessment is finished.”

  “Can we defeat them?” I ask.

  “Based on my assessment? No, we can’t,” the science officer says. “They appear to use a sophisticated weaponry systems that is unlike anything we have ever known.”

  “Why don’t we know about this?” Ashley asks from the station closest to us.

  I realize that she is directing the question towards me and with an accusing tone.

  “Didn’t we share intel with them?” Ashley says. “They’ve been hiding a lot from us.”

  “Apparently,” I reply. “Forget that we practically told them everything.”

  “And whose fault is that?” Ashley says. I can hear the pain in her words.

  Even though it’s way out of line, I chose to ignore it. She has just lost three crew members. She would need some time to recover.

  “Sir, message sent to Armada Command,” says the communications officer.

  “Sir, I suggest we leave the systems immediately,” says the science officer.

  I frown. “Why is that, Lieutenant?”

  “When you asked me to assess the ship’s tactical capability, I ran two tests,” the science officer replies. “I ran a quick test as well as a more detailed test. The results I gave you were from the quick test.”

  “And now?”

  “It appears that my earlier assessment were greatly insufficient,” the science officer says. “If we go up against that warship, it will pulverize us into ashes.”

  I almost hiss. That’s not exactly what I want my CNC crew to hear before going into battle.

  Ashley comes to my side. “We need to weigh our options.”

  “What options?” I ask her because I frankly do not see much options.

  “We are out-sized and out-gunned,” she says. “We are carrying the entire galactic council on this ship. If we’re destroyed, there will be war. This time not between one species and another, but an intergalactic war. We will have caused a first Galactic War.”