The Resolute

by G. Weldon Tucker

  His hands seemed to find all the zips, snaps and Velcro, unveiling her natural beauty until she was as naked as he. And still, he could hardly think, the rushing in his head drowning everything else. Both heads.

  Kelly was inexperienced, too, but she was determined to find out all about it. And this was the man she chose. A good man. A strong man, an ambitious man, smart, dedicated and with damned good genes. Who would not fall in love with him? Who would not want him? She was determined, now, to learn with him, all those things that make life so much fun. Her roommates had coached her, some, but not for the real thing.

  As it moved toward completion, she helped him learn about life. And he had no idea where she learned all those things she could do so well, but by God, he wanted those things for the rest of his life. But when he told her he loved her, she held a finger across his lips.

  “Wait. I think, right now, you are distracted. You love the image of me. You love sex, that is a given. But you do not yet know me. I will not be rushed. You are fun, a great guy, going someplace in the Navy, no doubt. But this is a very serious situation. I will tell you I love you when I am sure. But, I want you totally committed when you partner with me.”

  Well, to say the least, by the wee hours on his watch, he was totally committed. Men are easy. In this state they promise everything, only to have it evaporate in the morning light. So Kelly had been told, and she did not want to be hurt.

  But, oh, God, we’ve found a new hobby, all right!

  Meanwhile, Dyna and Ben were partnered in a simple celebration. It smacked of marriage, yet, was a contract, taking the spirituality out of it, but securing the future for both of them and their children, as it should be.

  God might be in the hearts and minds of some of the people in this endeavor, but it was more often habit, rather than faith, and too often, expletives. Hard habits to break.

  CHAPTER 18

  “BATTLE STATIONS!! ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS!” sounded one morning, early, throughout the ship, loud enough to seemingly vibrate the doors.

  Those asleep were instantly awake, fast dressing to go pounding down their decks to their weapons platforms, medical stations, fire stations and such. The drills never stopped. And it made no difference, drill or real, the reaction had to be top of the line.

  Civilians leaped out of their beds, too, heading for the nearest safety chair. These were titanium steel, heavy duty restraints and cushions. The seats even swiveled in the odd maneuvers of the Resolute. Not perfect protection, but much better than bouncing off the walls or ceiling.

  Jake hurried to the radio room, finding two others there ahead of him.

  “We got one, Sir!” called a Lieutenant, starting to rise and salute.

  “As you were. Show me the screen!”

  There, vaguely, a needle nosed craft was outlined on the camera, and on the radar, it was merely a small blip. The thing was absorbing ninety seven percent of the radar signal!

  Sr. Commander Lincoln Morgan was quick into the radar room, and the first thing he did was yell, “Power it up, half limit!”

  This was nearly four times the power, twice the pulse rate and it could literally fry a human being out to a mile.

  “Range?”

  “One hundred miles, Sir, holding steady, ninety six point two percent light speed, Sir.”

  Instantly, the craft was easily visible on the screen, though, of course, no change in the camera view.

  Suddenly, in that camera view, a bright, crisp, blue light flared from the strange craft. The beam itself had nothing to reflect off of, so though it was a powerful laser, it showed only its origin lens. And they felt its destination.

  It had declared its intentions, shooting at the bow! Resolute bucked, all several hundred million tons of her, but the bolt did not punch through.

  The Aliens, if this was from them, had made a big mistake.

  The Resolute was a battle wagon, even if she was a personnel carrier. Instantly, from the weapons stations, six huge bolts of laser energy slammed into the craft from points all along the starboard side.

  The thing lit up, glowed for a long moment as whatever technology it had tried to combat that massive strike. Then, very oddly, the craft’s IFF signal came strongly. International Friend or Foe identifier, still in use by every earth bound flier. They had either turned it on or lost the control over it. To everyone’s utter astonishment, it was… oh, my God, Cyborgs!

  The slice of laser had failed to do any damage, though at the same time, somewhere, something else hit Resolute with a heavy, ‘CLUNK!’ No time to find it, the crews had to prevent another shot.

  Captain DePaules called, “Finish it!”

  The second rack of laser bolts blew the thing to dust. In just seconds, the battle was over. The Cyborgs had found them, out here in the middle of nowhere!

  DePaules called out, “Check Washington in radio. Tell me these things did not get a packet off! Damage report, NOW!”

  Jake had turned on every set of ears they had, looking for clues. The IFF was obvious, and well known as a Cyborg signal. But no packets were detected, no call for help. Maybe they had simply hoped that the IFF would shelter them. Fools.

  Of course, we might have fried their circuits, too.

  When he was queried, he shared what he knew. But he also said, “Remember, if a packet is shot back towards Earth, we would never see it. Let us hope that we finished it before it could get out the message.”

  DePaules said, over the comm, “Stay alert for twenty one hours. That is how long that packet will take. Look for the return before then. See if you can catch it!”

  “Yes, Sir, we are on it, Sir!”

  Jake grimly relayed the news to his people. They had enough for two shifts, so everyone would be on twelve hour watches. But, surprisingly, his adrenaline was gentle, his heart beat slow and steady. His first space battle, and he had hardly noticed. Maybe because it was over so fast.

  But no major damage was found out on the nose. The cameras found only a dark spot where the laser had clipped them and bounced.

  Of course, at this point, the electronics necessary to monitor every square meter of the big ship had yet to be designed. Somewhere on those hundreds of square miles, there was damage. But none of the cameras showed anything.

  A spacewalk was called for. Ten man teams, walking the length of the ship.

  -----

  No packets arrived. No Cyborgs rescue or attack units. They were simply too far out to bother with. But it had been an indicator that the moon was in jeopardy.

  Captain DePaules told Commander Washington to get a warning out to the moon, but even then, that was ten or more hours away. The signal went out, twice, an hour apart, all eyes on the green LED for the return signal. But, from either too far, or no receiver, whatever, no return packet from the moon ever showed up.

  But something else unexpected certainly did…

  CHAPTER 19

  Before the spacewalk even got half way through, the Hospital reported an unexpected surge of a virus that seemed to be affecting the civilization in the starboard, bottom quarters. Doctor Angela Puaco told the XO that she had already admitted one hundred and twenty five patients just in this first hour after the attack. The hospital only had a thousand beds, and two thirds were full with other patients.

  “I have put them all on one deck, and we have sealed all others. I hope to God we can contain it here!”

  “Any particular deck or address range where it started?” the XO asked.

  “Deck 203, the first forty units ahead of the engine bulkhead,” she responded.

  They had found their damage!

  Klaxons sounded, warning everyone to stay in their position and away from security doors. In short order, each deck was sealed, then inner doors closed down, sealing smaller and smaller until the enclosed compartments took up one eighth of each affected single deck. If the virus had not escaped these initial decks, they had it contained.

  But the hospital was now a carr
ier. Too many people in and out for other problems, plus the staff, it was a good three hours before the virus was pronounced contained. Only now, it was four decks in five separate areas. Each fully sealed, treated as a hazardous agent, and restricted area. But it cost over twelve thousand lives in the first damned day!

  Though the ten foot long, titanium barbed dart, very low tech, was found and removed by the spacewalkers, the device had punched through the double walls and into a compartment with five family members.

  They ran out, bolting the sealing door against space intrusion behind them, as per protocol, and sought shelter in one of their own family’s quarters.

  But, unknowingly, they were already infected. By morning watch, two hundred people had died in agony, eaten alive internally by a very aggressive micro weapon. Not a single exterior symptom, except the pain in their eyes before they died.

  When discovered by other family members, those unfortunates spread it to the other quarters on the deck, and more and more people began to fall. Only a few out of several thousand even made it to the hospital.

  The quick thinking of the bridge had saved a hell of a lot of people. But in so doing, it trapped and killed those hapless twelve thousand on their decks.

  Frankly, it was one of those terrible decisions. One where the safety and well-being of the entire ship weighed against the loss of a big chunk of their population.

  Much of the on duty hospital staff went down, the patients went down, but it, too, was completely sealed off. The Resolute was in dire straits, and yet the experts on staff worked their asses off to identify the bug and find the cure.

  Thankfully, there was one important survivor, for she had been on duty in her laboratory at the time of the attack. It was Assistant Director Kelly Washington’s job to identify the agent. A well trained micro-biologist, she could find the answers.

  Unflinchingly, in severe biological hazmat equipment, she went into the sick rooms, drew blood and body fluids and retreated. Then, sprayed down with deadly strong disinfectant, she shed the suit and showered naked. Finally, convinced they had her clean, she went to her lab.

  Twenty six hours later her teams had it. A micro agent, computer enhanced for military, it was virulent and resistant to just about everything they had on board.

  No survivors to find an antibody. The Cyborgs had sent what might have been a drone, hunting for them. Just to kill them in their steel box…

  -----

  Kelly slaved for three days, yet the restricted areas were entirely devoid of all people, from babies to old folks. And still, she could not find the key to stopping it.

  No one was allowed in to any of the compartments, so no one knew what it would take to survive. So far, from camera observation, there was no movement in the confined area. A not so sterile environment, with no humans. No mammals at all.

  But, on the fourth day, she discovered her isolated agents had all died out. There was not a single, live virus in any of the samples or the blood she had collected. Her heart leaped! Maybe it had a shelf life! But she would not commit until she had run the tests.

  The people in the quarantine area had died. There simply was no stopping it. No one collected bodies, for Kelly would allow no one near them. She ordered the patch for the dart damage done on the outside of the Resolute, then dehydrated the environment, not only for the hospital area, but the floors affected, allowing the bodies to mummify over a week. Still no new victims, anywhere on board.

  Finally, at the end of the first week, her Health Sciences Department let the military know they had contained it.

  But the cleanup would be a mess. Almost twelve thousand bodies to dispose of, out the myriad discharge tubes, four to five at a time, depending on size. Space would turn them to dust in moments.

  Then they had to clean all the quarters with serious disinfectant, then a waiting period to see if it reemerged. All in all, a Health Science nightmare…

  She had done the best she could… and it was not enough. Death in any form is disheartening, but then, life goes on…

  -----

  Several months after the virus incident, and just after Dyna’s first child, Jake and Kelly partnered in a simple celebration of life. A good thing, as she was seriously pregnant. It is a known fact that a woman is one hundred percent pregnant at conception. She is seriously pregnant when it becomes obvious. Humankind has lost that race all too many times. But they were ecstatic, as were the Morgans and Washingtons at all levels.

  In fact, every woman on board, maybe half at a time, seemed to be pregnant… or about to be. They were doing their job, as expected, but then, they were doing it pretty efficiently. The losses from the Cyborg virus attack were going to be quickly replaced and the positive growth reestablished quite soon...

  -----

  When a city matures, the inhabitants begin to lead less desperate, and, to an outsider, more uneventful lives. Of course, there are ups and downs, but to pick and choose through the myriad days, weeks, months and years, would be to bore most people to death.

  Nothing to see here, folks, move along, please…

  CHAPTER 20

  Over the next years of the UE Resolute’s ongoing exploration, many things changed. Carrie Isles, the XO, stepped down when confronted with a serious illness, an internal, aggressive disease. In near panic, Kelly and her medics had examined and tested her, relieved that the virus had not returned, but what was there was an old invader of all humanity. Cancer.

  At first, it allowed declining limited duty, but eventually, whatever was eating her up was too determined, the treatments too debilitating, and she pulled herself off the duty roster onto medical leave.

  Her husband and sons took her to the family quarters and nursed her for a long two years before she recovered. Even then, she was not the same strong vibrant woman, and never would be again.

  Health Sciences was now under the careful monitoring of the newly appointed Director Kelly Washington. Duty came first, as always, and she made sure that cancer would be defeated, wherever and whenever they found it.

  She had helped to pull Carrie back from the brink, but that was a long way from healthy. Meanwhile, like the mothers they were, the Washingtons and Morgans produced more progeny, to the tune of three for each partnered pair.

  -----

  So, Sr. Commander Lincoln Morgan found himself promoted into the XO role at six years into the straight line run from the moon, and ran the ship very well under Captain DePaules’ tutelage.

  Outgoing packets had begun again, not long after the virus attack, but it was mostly reporting. Only one came back. The problem in sending and receiving had been a serious matter of the moon habitats fending off multiple, determined Cyborg drone attacks.

  By the third year after the attacks, the moon was down by half in population and habitat, but rebuilding. However, they were so far out there that the packets began to come and go over months, rather than weeks. Half of that problem was the handling time. A signal into them required a response from the top, and sometimes, that was not all that efficient, adding much more unnecessary time to the patience of the waiting party.

  -----

  In the seventh year, Captain DePaules finally agreed to take on the Admiralty role, more of an honorific, but an effort to give him some reward for service. He was nearing sixty-five. And it was time. He, in turn, put Lincoln in as Captain. But DePaules, not a spring chicken on boarding, was suddenly seeming to age fast.

  Every Naval Officer wants to sail the seas. Some want to die there. Space should be no different, other than you never feel the real sun or the natural breeze on your face. And substitute technology was not for him.

  Soon, he began avoiding the mandatory workout sessions. As Admiral, he could damn well do as he pleased, and he made that point to those concerned about him.

  But, depression is hard to defeat. Boredom is even harder. The small city hurtling through space ran like a fine clock, and DePaules was getting tired. It showed. He had an out. Society n
o longer frowned on the dignified choices before any person who had grown tired of life.

  Ten years and one day after launch, or, as they termed it, AL, though it had not yet been passed by the Council, they found themselves better than Fifty-eight trillion miles out. Communication with the moon was pretty much lost. The packets took far too long to reach home, and far too much longer to get a return. Even if there were still people to get the message.

  Captain Lincoln Morgan was to meet the Admiral for breakfast in the old man’s quarters. He knocked softly at the door. Expecting an ‘enter,’ as always, he waited. And waited. He knocked a bit louder. No answer.

  He lifted his wrist comm to his mouth and said, “Bridge, hail the Admiral, please.”

  It came through the audio system moments later. The way it was set up, there was nothing the Admiral could be doing that he would not respond.

  “No response, Captain.”

  “No answer here, either. I am going in.”

  Using his passkey, he slipped inside. Admiral DePaules looked asleep. Peaceful. But when the Captain touched his hand above the blanket, the man was cold as ice. He quickly looked for a pulse on the cold neck. None. There, on the nightstand, the evidence. Like many before him, he had chosen to go with dignity. The bottles were empty.

  “Bridge. Send a medical team to Admiral’s quarters. I believe he has… passed away.”

  The klaxons blared, first time in years outside of a drill and the audio system called for a team to the Admiral’s aid. Another pillar, a rock in the eyes of the Navy, had passed on…

  CHAPTER 21

  Shortly after ‘Admiral’ DePaules’ passing, Michael Morgan was elected Governor by a landslide, despite the fact that the Navy was now run by Senior Captain Lincoln Morgan. Conflict of interests protests showed up, weakly, but the time and travel carried on.

  Michael promised fair representation on both sides, and, as he headed the Council, now, he also had serious input to the Navy. Not that anything else happened for a long, long time…