“Status?”
“The gateway to the Apache System is ahead Captain. We are twenty hours from the jump point, and the ship sending the signal is sitting in front of the gate.”
Ben floated into the captain’s chair and studied the screens. “Hum ... fine. Keep your wits about you. Several unexplained disappearances have occurred in this sector, so watch for signs of Tolleani intrusion.”
This ship was his first command, granted soon after promotion to captain. Most of the credit belonged to his beautiful companion back at base. Without her, he would have died long ago, somewhere in the wasteland now covering the site of her childhood home.
Six months after their return to Cymbel 3, he received his bars and orders. With the war in full swing and humanity losing, the commission was inevitable, and with it command of a brand new destroyer.
Even now, a modified version of the Tollean device used to bring his last vessel down was being installed on the fleet’s front line ships. No reports were in yet on the weapon’s effectiveness. With the first fitted little more than a month ago, that did not surprise Ben: word was slow to travel in space. This destroyer carried one of the units, still untested in action.
Give it time, he thought. The research Echo and I stole will bring an end to this war ... or at least a compromise.
Jerry interrupted his thoughts. “Captain, the signal isn’t from a Fleet vessel, but it’s certainly a distress call. Someone has a problem.”
“What do we know?”
“There’s a Terran vessel, a ‘C34’ class, sitting in front of the gateway. Human, not Tollean. The request is on the general band, but no security codes.”
“Civilian? Fine, send an acknowledgement. Get me a visual as soon as you can.”
The image on the monitor was a short-haul freighter, old and worn but with no visible damage. It drifted at the middle of a region of empty space, otherwise referred to as a gateway, containing the entrance to the Apache wormhole. On the side of the hull, faded and flaked paint spelled out the number ‘10739’.
“The computer has no record of that registration, Captain,” Jerry said. “Must be from an unaligned planet.” Dozens of worlds throughout the occupied galaxy, had either left the federation of humanity, or never joined. Many of them had fallen to the Tolleani, unnoticed beneath the radar.
Ben donned his headset. “Freighter 10739, this is Terran fleet destroyer G4973, Ben Teague commanding. Please advise your situation.”
Several minutes later, a soft, feminine voice responded. “Captain Teague, Julia Ellis here. You cannot imagine how happy I am you’re here. Thank you for responding.”
“My pleasure, Captain Ellis. Again, what is your status?”
“My engines are down. An explosion in the engineering module occurred as we came through the gate from Apache. The damage is repairable but my engineer is injured. I would appreciate the help of yours, and medical attention for mine.”
Ben acknowledged without a moment’s hesitation. Not responding to a distress call in space was contrary to regulation and had severe consequences. “My engineering officer will cross with our paramedic as soon as we rendezvous.”
“Would linking our ships be possible?” Ellis asked. “My casualty is in a critical condition and we have no facilities. His leg is broken, so we can’t get him into a suit. I need your inter-lock tube to bring him across to you.”
“Sorry, no. You’re not broadcasting an approved security code. Fleet regulations do not permit a link with any vessel unless it identifies itself in the correct manner.”
“My apologies, Captain. This ship is an unaligned freelance surveyor and not part of the Federation. We’ve not been home for six months and don’t have your codes, so we can’t verifying ourselves. Perhaps your people can check us over, and then you might agree to a connection?”
For a moment, Ben pondered the situation. To give help in a medical emergency was obligatory, but he would not put his command at risk. “I’ll let you know when we come alongside. Stand by.”
Hours later, the old freighter drifted beside them in space, less than a hull’s length separating the two ships.
“Looks harmless enough,” Jerry said. “Doesn’t appear to be any visible damage. I have six heat signatures inside, one prone.”
“Send Raj and Gail across and we’ll wait for their report.”
Thirty minutes later the voice of Ben’s medical officer, Gail, came over the speaker. “Captain, everything appears in order here. The patient’s femur is broken, he has serious blood loss and is unconscious. We need to set up the tunnel to bring him over, so I can stabilise him and repair the leg. This tub has no facilities.”
Ben noticed more than usual stress in Gail’s voice. “You are aware Fleet regulations do not allow me to approve a direct connection until I am satisfied there is no threat?” he said.
“Yes sir. The rules also require we help wherever possible when lives are at risk. This man will die unless he gets attention.” Gail voice was forced, and showed obvious concern.
“Can you do it there?”
“No. The fracture I can fix, but he needs transfusions. I need my medical bay. Ben, please!” Once again, Ben could hear the tension in her voice.
“Have you checked the ship?”
“Yes, everything is ten-ten. Raj is heading back to the engine module now. Ben, it’s just what you would expect of a surveyor.”
Ben looked across to his second in command. “Does Gail sound upset to you?”
“Distraught, I guess. Doesn’t surprise me: the worst she gets on this boat is vitamin deficiency and headaches; now she has a potential critical. She called you Ben.”
“She’s never addressed me by name before! And ten-ten?”
A direct connection with an unknown ship was contrary to orders, and an enormous risk. If anything happened, the result would be loss of command for Ben. There was, according to his medical officer, a life in danger, and other regulations dictated that he must provide help. The vessel was Terran – that, at least, was clear. Ben considered the options. Dammed if I do...
“Alright,” he said, “we’ll set up now, Gail.” The risk, he decided, was unavoidable. “Captain Ellis will cross with you. As soon as you are aboard, I’ll meet with her. Remain in the bay, and I’ll come to you.”
“Yes, Sir!”
Ben switched to the internal intercom. “Bayliss and Mahib to the airlock. Set up the link tunnel as quickly as possible, and carry your side arms. The visitors do not leave the bay under any circumstances!”
Something troubled him about the whole situation. The prospector showed no obvious sign of external damage, but Ellis explained there had been an isolated explosion inside the engine room. The scanners confirmed the engines were cold.
Ben rose and glided back towards his cabin, thinking it a coincidence the disabled ship should malfunction right on the entrance to the wormhole, the one place in the vastness of space with a guarantee of early rescue. Again, Ellis had an explanation, that they had just exited the gateway.
Uncomfortable with the docking tube, he was even more so with leaving a civilian spacecraft helpless, and an unconscious, injured man without hope. He retrieved his side arm and returned forward. With armed crew in the docking bay, he was at least prepared if anything went wrong. Gail had never addressed him by his name before.
“On their way now,” Jerry said. “Four persons crossing: Gail and the patient, one other assisting, and Captain Ellis.”
Ben watched on the intercom as the arrivals entered the airlock and moved into the bay. As was his habit he checked his side arm, and was about to head back to the service bay when the hatch to the control deck burst open. A middle-aged male in blue fatigues floated through, a laser pistol in his hand. Behind him, a younger woman, also armed and threatening, pulled herself through the opening. She was wearing Gail’s pressure suit.
The man holding the gun was tall and rangy, with blonde, thinning hair and a stubbled chin. Gre
en eyes glittered in the cockpit lights as he glanced around, an almost euphoric look on his face. Focusing his attention on Ben, he licked his lips as if savouring a tasty dish or a fine wine. “Please stay in your seat, Captain,” he said, “and keep your hands away from the console.”
“Who the hell are you? Where is my crew?”
“Your engineer and paramedic are safe on board my ship. My worthy associates are attending to the rest of your men. Oh, and your vessel is now my property!”
The woman, most likely the same who identified herself as Captain Ellis, smiled as her companion spoke. The man peered around the cabin again, a broad Cheshire-cat grin spread across his face.
“A Fleet destroyer!” he crowed. “I am going to find this so useful.”
* * * * *
If you would like to continue reading ‘Dark World’ please return to your book seller of choice for a copy, or to my website:
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