Warp Wake: (Sharp Series Book 1)

by B. C. James

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  1 Derelict

  2 Boarding Party

  3 Awakening

  4 Pierce

  5 Rojo

  6 Sleep

  7 Wake up Call

  8 Choices

  9 Cargo Bay Three

  10 Expelled

  11 Frozen

  12 Out from the Cold

  13 Warp

  14 Disruption

  15 EVA

  16 Home

  17 Intercept

  18 Blow the Hatch

  19 Collision Course

  20 Warp Wake

  Epilogue

  Thank you

  Warp Wake

  Sharp Series Book One

  B.C. James

  Copyright © 2017 B.C. James

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is dedicated to all those who dream of the future.

  If you enjoy this book, please leave a review.

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  1

  Derelict

  A piercing alarm tore through Captain Sharp’s eardrums, yanking him from sleep. His hand shot to the control panel on the bulkhead next to the bunk. He fumbled in the darkness, trying to find the button to quiet the blaring alarm. The noise cut off and in the silence, he could tell the Pescado Rojo had dropped out of warp. Eyes still closed, he hit the comm button, opening a channel to the bridge. “What do you got?” he asked with a dry throat.

  His second in command’s voice crackled back over the speaker. “Better get up here, Cap. We’ve got a bogey on the scope.”

  “On my way,” he replied before closing the comm channel.

  What is it now, he thought as a nervous feeling tightened in his chest. Ignoring his anxiety, he swung his legs over the edge of the narrow bed. The overhead lights sensed his movement and blinked to life. They illuminated softly at first then gradually brightened, allowing his eyes time to adjust.

  His spartan quarters greeted him. The reddish-brown bulkheads bare, save for an open closet and a small lavatory alcove. He crossed the room and pulled a flight suit from the closet. He slipped it over his stiff joints then hastily smoothed his sandy blond hair in the lavatory mirror.

  The cabin door groaned as he pulled it open and stepped into the central corridor. A flashing amber light pulsed on the curved ceiling, signaling Condition Yellow. The other lights in the hallway were dark. The ship was in sleep cycle, the low lighting designed to preserve the crew’s circadian rhythm. His heavy boots clanged on the metal deck grating, echoing through the dim corridor as he made his way to the bridge.

  The hatch was open when he arrived, and he stepped through. Commander Cormac stood, vacating the command chair when she noticed him enter. “Captain,” she greeted as she moved to the control station along the side wall.

  He nodded, acknowledging his second in command as he looked around the cramped bridge. His pilot, Ensign Morales, was tucked away up front, tapping away at the helm controls. His third officer, Lieutenant Arnold, was conspicuously absent. This was Arnold’s first mission on the Pescado Rojo, and Sharp doubted he would have a second.

  Moving to the command station, he leaned over the control panel display. Squinting, he studied the image on the screen. A tiny sliver of white stood out against a black background.

  “The Nav computer picked it up about five minutes ago,” Cormac informed him. “It set off the proximity alarm and dropped us out of warp.”

  “Any idea what it is?” Sharp asked, the anxiety welling up in his chest again. He slid his trembling finger along the edge of the display, zooming in on the object as he tried to ignore his fear.

  “Well its metallic,” Cormac said. “My first thoughts were a rogue asteroid or a piece of space junk, but then our scans picked up a faint energy signature.”

  “Do we have visual?” he asked, looking up at the large view screen at the front of the bridge.

  “Just a faint heat signature on infrared,” she said, hitting a button on her control panel. A glowing orange dot flickered onto the main viewer, replacing the field of stars.

  “That doesn’t tell us much, does it?” he quipped, longing for an advanced sensor array like the one he’d had on his old Orion Fleet cruiser. He felt like they were flying blind with the basic navigation sensors his aging cargo ship had on board.

  “Not really, Sir,” Cormac snapped back “There’s not enough ambient light for an optical image at this distance. Should we alter course to intercept?”

  “No. Not yet. I don’t want to waste our time if it turns out to be nothing. We’ve got a schedule to keep,” he said, wiping his damp palms on the legs of his flight suit as he considered his next move. “Let’s send out a microprobe blast to intercept the object.”

  “Aye, Cap,” Cormac said, turning to the terminal on the wall and poking away at the controls. She finished her inputs and looked over to him, one hand hovering over a large red button on her console. “Ready for launch, Sir.”

  Sharp nodded and her eyes moved to the main viewer as she pressed the button. A whirring twang sounded from beneath the bridge, resonating through the gravity plating in the floor. The probes accelerated toward their destination, their tiny solar sails pushed to near the speed of light by the laser array built into the launcher. He squirmed in his chair and steadied his breathing to suppress his agitation as they waited the few minutes for the probes to start sending back data.

  The main viewer switched from the infrared dot to a black canvas sprinkled with distant points of light. At the center, a small dark object eclipsed the stars, blocking out their dim glow. The object grew larger as the dozen microprobes zoomed toward it. A grid of green lines formed on the screen, superimposed over the black shape as the probes extrapolated the object’s size and shape using their rangefinders. Subtle features started to appear as the probes moved closer, their tiny cameras absorbing the minuscule light reflected off the object’s surface. As the probes spread out in a circle, a three-dimensional image projected out from the main view screen. Slowly the image filled in as they beamed more data back to the ship. The top and bottom of the object became clear, then the far side as the probes flew past and continued on into open space.

  The live video feed ended, and the viewer displayed a static three-dimensional image hanging in the air at the front of the bridge. “Wow,” Morales exclaimed from the helm. “That thing looks ancient.”

  Sharp stared up at the image with stern eyes. He studied the long cylindrical object, turning it over and spinning it around with his control panel.

  The dark and lifeless hulk appeared to be a spacecraft, although its configuration was unlike anything Sharp had seen before. The well-worn surface of the craft was mottled with white patches of the original coating that had given way to pitted dull gray metal beneath. At the front, a conical nose slanted into a straight cylinder. A ring of six cubes at the rear of the cylinder protruded from its circumference, more than doubling its diameter. Behind the cubes lay an enclosed ring roughly three meters in length, and nearly as wide as the cube section. A long boom made up of triangulated bars surrounded a narrow central corridor that linked the forward part of the ship to the rear. At the front of the boom, two short cylinders stuck out on either side like wings. The cylinders tapered into con
es where they joined the corridor. The rear of the boom joined with a ring of four large spheres covered in a layer of frost. These spheres lay just ahead of a round magazine of cylinders, encircling a large central tube. The magazine comprised almost a third of the ship’s one hundred meter length and was the widest part of the craft. The central tube extended beyond the cylinders and met four legs that reached out toward the rear of the ship. In the middle of the legs, two narrow rails extended from the central tube. The legs coupled to a stack of thick flat plates arranged perpendicular to the rest of the ship. The two rails sticking out from the central tube pointed toward a hole in the middle of the stacked plates.

  Sharp stopped studying the image and leaned back in his chair as he looked over at Cormac. Their eyes meet and he sighed. “Still reading that energy signature?”

  “Yes, Sir,” She replied after consulting her control panel.

  He knew what he had to do, but he didn’t want to say it. If there was an energy signature, then there could be survivors. He was obligated by law, and by honor, to investigate. “What’s our schedule looking like?” he asked, turning back to the viewer.

  Cormac punched at the buttons on her control panel. “We’re about twenty hours ahead of our timetable, Cap. So, we’ve got some breathing room to investigate and still make our delivery window.” She twisted back toward him. “Plus, we’re still four weeks out, so if need be, we can make up some lost time if we push the warp engine.”

  Sharp paused, staring at the strange ship. His heart was pounding in his chest and he took several deep breaths to calm himself. This wasn’t what he’d signed up for. He didn’t like surprises. He preferred the quiet and simple life of a freighter captain to the stressful life on the fleet cruiser he had once commanded.

  “Orders, Captain?” Cormac plied.

  He waited until he was sure he could speak with a steady voice. “Well, we better have a look,” he said, nodding to her as he pressed the comm button. “Chief, I need full power to the grav-thrusters, we’re altering course.”

  “Roger that,” Chief Engineer Franklin’s gruff voice rasped back over the comm. “Gravitic drive charged and ready, Sir. Engage at your discretion.”

  He closed the comm and swiveled the command chair toward the young woman at the front of the bridge. “Ensign, plot an intercept course and engage when ready.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Morales said, punching in commands on her console. “Engaging now, Sir.”

  That was quick, Sharp thought. She must have already had the course calculated, anticipating his commands. Sharp smiled at the young pilot’s competence as the buzz of the grav-thrusters spooling up resonated through the ship. The G-force gently pushed him into his chair as the ship began moving. Morales accelerated slowly. There were no inertial dampeners on the ship and applying full power to the grav-thrusters all at once would send them flying out of their seats. No luxuries on this old freighter, just lots of cargo and a big engine to haul it with. He was grateful they at least had grav-plating to hold them to the floor. In his younger days, he had piloted several zero-G fighters, and he was never a fan of the sensation of weightlessness.

  “Thirty minutes till intercept,” Morales announced.

  “Good work, Ensign,” Sharp replied.

  She looked at him and smiled, beaming at the praise she craved. Sharp looked away quickly, not wanting to show favoritism over the other crew members, although she was his favorite. She reminded him of himself at her age. So young and brimming with pep and ambition, eager to explore everything the galaxy had to offer and not yet crushed under the weight of responsibility.

  He turned to Cormac. “You have the bridge, Commander, send a message to Chariko Station informing them of our status and course deviation. I’ll be in the galley.” The message would take nearly a week to reach the station, but it was standard operating procedure to inform the destination port of any changes that could affect their schedule. Plus, if something happened to the Rojo out here in the vast emptiness of space they would at least know where to start looking for them.

  She nodded to him as he stood and stretched his sleep weary muscles. She took his place at the command console as he ducked through the hatch into the central corridor.

  Sharp stopped by his quarters for a quick shower, hoping it would help calm his nerves. He could handle this, he thought as the warm water pelted his scarred chest. It wasn’t as if he was leading his old fleet cruiser into battle. This was just a minor deviation to check out a derelict spacecraft. They’d check it for survivors then mark its position with a beacon and be back on their way.

  Feeling better, Sharp stopped at Lieutenant Arnold’s quarters on his way to the galley. He pressed the comm button next to the door. “Lieutenant,” he called loud and firm. “I want to see you in the galley in five minutes.”

  He waited by the door for a reply. Finally, the comm crackled on. “Okay,” a groggy voice came back over the speaker. “What’s going on?”

  Sharp shook his head. Arnold must have slept through the whole thing. “Five minutes, Lieutenant,” he repeated.

  ***

  Sharp filled a cup with coffee from the dispenser and grabbed a nutrient pack before sitting down at the head of the long table that ran through the center of the cramped galley. sloppily strapped down spare parts and cargo filled every corner and wall of the small room. The close quarters made Sharp feel a little claustrophobic, but at least the main lights were on. There was no point in keeping them off now that the crew was awake.

  He tore open the nutrient pack and took a bite before washing it down with lukewarm coffee. Gotta get Franklin to take a look at those heating coils, he thought as Lieutenant Arnold sauntered through the door.

  Sharp watched as he strolled to the dispenser and poured a cup of coffee. He moseyed over and plopped down at the table next to Sharp, yawning lazily before taking a sip. His short blond hair was disheveled and his wrinkled flight suit was unzipped to his navel, exposing the dingy white undershirt beneath.

  Sharp’s jaw clenched as he glared at his third in command. “Do you know what Condition Yellow means, Lieutenant?” he asked calm yet firm, containing his anger.

  “All hands to stations,” Arnold said airily. “Must’ve slept through the alarm.”

  More likely ignored it and went back to sleep, Sharp thought with disdain, noting Arnold’s lack of respect. If this was a military vessel, he’d throw him in the brig for insubordination and court-martial him as soon as they got into port.

  “We’ve found a derelict spacecraft with a faint power signature,” Sharp continued. “We’ve altered course to intercept and check for possible survivors.”

  “Oh,” Arnold interjected as he sat up straight, his interest piqued.

  Sharp ignored the interruption. “I’ll be leading a boarding party. You and Ensign Briggs will join me. Please inform him, then the two of you get down to the airlock and get it prepped. Our E.T.A. is approximately fifteen minutes.”

  Not waiting for a reply, Sharp stood up. He didn’t like the idea of taking Arnold along, he’d rather have Commander Cormac watching his back, but he liked the idea of leaving Arnold in charge of his ship even less. Especially if it meant leaving him alone on the bridge with Ensign Morales. He’d seen the way Arnold looked at her when he believed no one was watching, and it stirred up a protective instinct within Sharp. He’d never had children of his own, but he felt like somewhat of a father figure to Morales. Her own father had died when she was still a child.

  He looked down at Arnold, still seated and sipping his coffee. “Now, Lieutenant,” Sharp said firmly, his voice raised.

  “Alright, don’t blow an O-ring,” Arnold replied, sliding his chair back from the table and rolling his eyes.

  Sharp leaned forward and slammed his clenched fists, knuckles down, on the metal table before Arnold could stand up. Arnold looked up surprised by the sudden noise. He stuck his furrowed brow close to the young man’s face. His nostrils flared, and his stern gaz
e bored into Arnold’s eyes. “Alright, Sir,” Sharp rasped with a low growl, correcting the arrogant Lieutenant.

  Arnold leaned his chair back and stared at Sharp with disdain. He stood up smirking. “Yes, Sir,” he said with the faintest hint of sarcasm as he walked to the door.

  Sharp crossed his arms over his chest and watched as Arnold left. He sighed, shaking his head and letting his arms fall to his side. The relaxed feeling he had after his shower was gone, vaporized like his patience for Arnold. He hated having to discipline crew members but knew it was sometimes necessary even with the more relaxed atmosphere of a civilian ship.

  He grabbed his cup and swallowed the remnants of the tepid liquid. Looking down, he saw Arnold had left his half-full cup on the table. Grudgingly, he picked it up along with his own and slammed them into the waste reclamation port on his way out the door.

  2

  Boarding Party

  Captain Sharp watched the main view screen as he sat in the command chair. The aged hulk of the derelict loomed dark and lifeless before them as they approached. With the up-close view of the craft, his curiosity was overcoming his trepidation. How old was it, and how did it get so far out into deep space?

  He shook off the questions; he had a ship to command. “Ensign, bring us alongside for docking,” he ordered.

  “Aye, Sir,” Morales replied. As the Pescado Rojo turned, the derelict moved to the periphery of the main viewer. Before it disappeared past the edge, the screen switched to a side angle. “Looks like it’s in a slow tumble,” Morales reported. “About one revolution per minute. Adjusting our course to match.” The Rojo heaved as the ion thrusters fired, bringing them into synchronization with the other ship.

  “Commander, can you extrapolate the ship’s point of origin based on its current trajectory?”

  Cormac punched away at the console built into the wall next to the command terminal. “Hmm, their past course doesn’t intersect with any known systems in the Orion Arm. The nearest system it passes through is a binary star system way out in the Perseus Arm. That’s over six thousand light-years away, Sir. I doubt they came that far.”