by David Smith
He was already familiar with the Tiger’s specifications and layout. The “Constitution” class to which Tiger belonged were long-established as flagships of the fleet and represented a high-water mark in Federation ship design and technology. Every school-boy was familiar with the lines and layout of the great ships, every cadet dreamed of a posting on one of these legendary vessels.
Instead, Dave concentrated on the only material that mattered more than the ship herself. Suspecting that a ship with Tiger’s reputation would have the choice of the fleet’s finest personnel, he elected to study her crew.
Accessing the fleet database, he created a query that would pull up pictures and holograms, records and biographies, reports and reviews, the thousand and one items of information that mapped out each member of the ship’s crew.
At first he thought there was a problem with the computer, as the data he’d requested dribbled in painfully slowly. He ran a diagnostic of the computer, but there was no obvious problem. Looking deeper, Dave spotted where the issue lay.
The only way to transfer information faster than light was to send it via sub-space. Information was sent through holes in the fabric of space so that although it only travelled at the speed of light, the physical distance the signal covered was far less than the actual distance between the transmitter and receiver. This made it appear as though the signal travelled faster than light.
A difficult process, it was only possible to actually generate such a wormhole with a large array of equipment that was usually packaged into a self-sustaining space-station. These relay stations were dotted around the Federation and ships would transmit all communications to the nearest relay station, which would then boost the message and transmit it nearly instantaneously through sub-space to the relay station closest the intended destination. That relay station would then transmit the message back through normal space to the receiver.
Ships couldn't normally carry all the equipment necessary to generate their own worm-holes, so for faster than light communication they had to depend on naturally occurring micro worm-holes that appeared and disappeared fleetingly. The chances of the signal finding a nearby worm-hole that led to the place the signal was supposed to go were miniscule, so the signal went through a series of worm-holes trying to work its way closer to the required destination.
This was inherently slower, as the number of worm-holes required for the signal to reach the required destination increased exponentially with the distance between the two ends of the communication. It was also considerably less reliable, and limited the amount of data that could be sent.
The sub-space communication network the fleet used was poorly served this far from the hub of the Federation, with the number of relay stations that transferred data reducing as the ship moved further and further away from the Federation’s main population centres. Looking at the network schematic it appeared there was only a single chain of relay stations in the whole of Sector 244.
Those relay stations would be transmitting data to and from every person and ship in the sector via sub-space, but the messages transmitted still had to travel through normal space or via a micro worm-hole to reach one of the relay stations. If Tiger ventured too far from a relay station her messages might take months or even years to reach the fleet. She was as isolated as it was possible to be within Federation space.
While the computer interrogated the database over light years of distance via the fleet’s network, he started by reading the first items to be retrieved, which were the biographies of the senior staff of the Tiger.
To his surprise, they were mostly non-descript to the point of being boring. Even the Engineering Officer, Commander Bartolomeo Cassini seemed to have achieved very little before breaking the speed record for the class. Oddly, he’d had a lot of postings as a junior engineer before finally being promoted to Commander and a senior engineers post aboard USS Baton Rouge.
Baton Rouge? Dave recognised the name, and eventually realised the Baton Rouge was the stripped out hulk the Academy kept in orbit above the earth as a class-room for instructing cadets in battle-damage control. He guessed that Cassini had probably been given the specific task of preparing the ship for this role as he’d only been assigned to her for 3 months before moving on to USS Napoli.
Napoli? Dave recognised that name too. A member of an older class of heavy cruiser, she’d been scrapped a couple of years ago after being declared beyond economic repair. Cassini’s assignment there had been brief too, just six months before moving on to USS Provider, an ancient supply vessel that shuttled between Star Bases carrying miscellaneous spares parts and the like. She’d been scrapped as well, and Cassini had transferred to the Tiger where he’d been for the last two years. Dave smiled to himself: it seemed Cassini was something of a jinx, and he hoped Tiger wouldn’t end up in the scrap-yards as a result of Cassini’s presence.
He was even more surprised to see that many of the junior officers seemed to have disciplinary issues, and those that didn’t certainly hadn’t done anything to endear themselves to their superiors.
The computer pinged to signify it had completed retrieval of the data Dave’s query had requested. He now had the complete service records of the entire crew roster and also the stores and maintenance records for the ship for the last two years. He took a broader look at the roster and was immediately struck by the fact that the roster was of 450 crew members. Everyone knew that the “Constitution” class had a complement of 430, and being assigned to a patrol mission rather than an exploration mission, Dave had expected a reduced complement of science specialists and security staff. Maybe 400 strong?
He checked again. Definitely 450 names. And twenty of them were listed as Yeomen. That was odd in itself. A Yeoman was essentially the commanding officer’s personal assistant, and Dave couldn’t think of a reason why any more than two would be required even on a ship as large as the Tiger. Many Captains didn’t bother with a Yeoman at all: they were poorly regarded in the fleet, being seen as the last resort posting of a junior NCO who’d failed in everything they’d attempted at the Academy.
A long standing joke in the fleet was that the term “Yeoman” was an acronym: You’re Egocentric, Obtuse, Mediocre And Needy. The joke normally carried the rider that you could always say that to a Yeoman’s face, as they wouldn’t understand it anyway. So why did Tiger have twenty of them?
He moved on. There was a considerable medical staff too. In additional to the usual ship’s Medical Officer and her deputy, there was a ship’s Counsellor and a twenty-nine strong nursing and orderly staff. It was usual practice to have roughly one medic for every fifty or so crew, plus a few orderlies-cum-first-aiders, which meant Tiger’s medical team should have been about a thirteen strong, fourteen if you included the Counsellor. Thirty-two was way too high. That was more than the Academy had had, even including those teaching shipboard medical practice.
He tried to find out more, but it seemed many of the nursing staff had been recruited locally, although there was no obvious reason why, and no biographical information at all for eighteen of the nursing staff. Curioser and curioser……
His head was beginning to ache from data overload, and he had to take a break. He grabbed a light meal and washed his face in cold water before trying a different tack. This time he checked the ships stores and inventory, and sighed as screen after screen of apparent rubbish scrolled up before his eyes.
Tiger had a standard complement of six shuttles, a couple of shuttle-pods and a few work-pods but the engineering staff had ordered so many spare parts for them they probably could have built another dozen shuttles and maintained them all in flying condition for years.
Some of the requisitions were just bizarre. Over a thousand tonnes of refrigerant gas? The medical staff had requisitioned 40,000 condoms in just three years? And who on earth had asked for (and got!) a two-meter diameter vibrating water bed?!?!
Dave leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes and caught a glimpse of
the ships clock. He’d spent the entire day poring over thousands of records and all he’d achieved was to find more questions that needed answering.
What was going on?
Chapter 2
He was none the wiser by the time the Santiago prepared to drop out of warp at Hole several weeks later. In fact he seemed to have an ever increasing list of questions that he couldn’t answer without speaking directly to the crew. However, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed likely that the reason he’d been given the post of Executive Officer in the first place was because the Captain and First Officer couldn’t keep on top of the huge amount of detail involved in the day to day running of the ship.
He was still pondering this when an alert sounded over the ships address system, and the Helmsman announced that the Santiago would be dropping out of warp space in two minutes.
Dave hastened to the observation deck, where he’d spent a good deal of his time over the last eight weeks. With the crew busy, he’d have the place to himself and be able to get a good view of the system that would be his home port and base of operations for the next few years.
The ship went to yellow alert as return to normal space approached and Dave watched in awe as the stars around the Santiago shrank from zooming streaks of light to tiny fixed dots as the ship slowed to sub-light speeds.
Dave was just getting his bearings when automated alarms screamed out and the ship’s computer repeatedly exclaimed “Warning, Collision Alert!.... Warning, Collision Alert!....Warning, Collision Alert!....”.
Dave was thrown sideways as the Santiago’s Helmsman made an evasive manoeuvre so harsh the ship’s inertia-dampers struggled to cope with the massive changes in G-force vectors. He landed in a heap on the bulkhead and then was thrown back the other way as the inertia-dampers over-corrected, landing face first with a grunt.
The whole structure of the ship shook and through the viewing port he caught a flash of something streaking past, and then another. He hauled himself up, listening as the Santiago’s Captain, who’d obviously forgotten that he’d turned the ships address system into its general broadcast setting, made his feelings known:
“What the hell are you idiots doing??? If you’d got any closer we’d have been sharing underwear, and I can assure that my underwear is already pretty bloody full.”
Dave reached the viewing port and saw a pair of shuttles in close proximity racing away from the Santiago on vectors that must have brought them within few hundred meters of the courier. At the velocities they were showing, even the slightest of contacts would have been terminal for all three ships.
A slightly delayed reply was also relayed across the ships address system. A very well-modulated and extremely calm male voice said “Apologies, Santiago, our shuttles are responding to an emergency call……”
“Bullshit! I’m not registering any comms traffic at all, let alone an emergency signal!”
There was another slight pause before the same voice came back: “Please don’t concern yourself, Santiago, our shuttle crews now have the emergency under control”
“The only emergency around here concerns my imminent departure to the toilet in desperate attempt to prevent the soiling of my chair. My underpants are beyond help. Now stop pissing around and tell me what the hell’s going on”
In the distance, the two shuttles banked sharply and threw themselves around a small brown asteroid before disappearing from sight. Finally clearing some of the mist from his mind, Dave was struck by something of an oddity. His research about Hole had made it clear that there was no asteroid belt anywhere near the inhabited planet. If Santiago’s Captain had known about such a belt he would have dropped out of warp much further away from the planet for safety reasons.
The smooth unidentified voice continued, completely unruffled “Understand your concerns, Santiago, we’ll investigate this apparent breach of safety protocols with all due diligence.”
Before the Captain of the Santiago could fire another salvo, the voice calmly changed the subject “I believe you have stores and personnel to transfer across?”
Calming down, the Captain evidently decided he was flogging dead horse and let it go. “Affirmative Tiger. One officer to transfer, plus five hundred kilos of refrigerant and fifteen standard cargo containers, all miraculously intact, despite the worst efforts of your kamikaze squadron. Which transporter room are we off-loading to?”
There was a slight pause. “All transporters are currently off-line. Shall we send a shuttle…?”
“NO!! No!! …. We’ve been close enough to your shuttles today. I’ll bring us in to dock. What docking port can we use?”
“Please dock to the starboard side of the secondary hull. Tiger out”
“Fucking idiot!” he grumbled. The Santiago’s captain was clearly in a mood to get done and get gone, and threw the Santiago into a complex turn, spinning her about to take her in closer to the Tiger.
Dave had seen many ships in his three years at the Academy, but seeing any ship for the first time always made him stop and stare. Starships were things of beauty, and none more so than the graceful “Constitution” class vessels, pride of Starfleet.
The Tiger herself was no spring chicken. She’d served on the boundaries of the Federation as an explorer for more than fifteen years, and had come through many scrapes and dangerous missions in three tours of duty. The last had been cut short after Tiger had been badly damaged in a confrontation with several alien warships. Command had taken the opportunity to upgrade her, giving her the most complete refit of her career and almost totally rebuilding her as they’d already done with some of her sister-ships.
The huge project had taken three years and kept Tiger at the absolute cutting-edge of Federation ship technology. She had gone on to serve another twelve years in an exploration role until she was superceded by one of the newer and much larger “Excelsior” class cruisers then beginning to enter service.
In the twilight of her career she’d been assigned to a patrol function in Sector 244, where she’d been for the last seven years. She was an old lady now, but she was still one of the more powerful vessels in the fleet, and the mid-life refit had made her even more graceful than when she’d been first built.
They were still some way off, but travelling at a significant proportion of the speed of light, the distance lessened rapidly.
At first he couldn’t see her, but as Santiago flew towards Hole he picked out a bright star close in to the planet. As the planet grew, the star grew brighter and brighter, and by the time he was close enough to make out the features of the tiny rocky world he could see that the dot was a ship. Closer and closer they drew, dropping into an orbit high above Hole and then decelerating hard. He’d lost track of the dot as its orbit carried it around the far side of the planet, but as the Santiago slowed to match orbits he saw the Tiger catching up with them from below and astern.
The docking portals were intended for shuttles but a skilled pilot could dock almost any two ships if needed. As if to prove a point, Santiago’s helmsman deftly steered the Santiago into an orbit parallel to the Tiger with nonchalant ease. As he did so, Dave got his first good look at his ship.
She took his breath away.
Her running lights accentuated the name and registry number on her main hull. Below that the interconnecting section between the horizontal disc of the main hull and the cylindrical secondary hull swept a graceful swan-neck downwards. She was close now and Dave could pick out details on the almost feminine curve of the secondary hull. Their speeds were close to matched and Dave could drink in the details. He’d rarely see her like this again, being cocooned within her, and he was determined to savour every moment.
Closer and closer they got. The angled pylons that supported Tiger’s engine nacelles now towered above them, leaning rakishly outwards and backwards from the secondary hull. Panels set into the pylons and nacelles glowed electric blue with the radiated energy of the warp-core, indicative of the awesome power of
the matter / anti-matter reaction that powered the mighty vessel. He could see individual windows scattered across the main hull and the deflector shield grid etched into the outer surface of the ship.
The Helmsman detached the main hull of the Santiago from its warp drive sled and manoeuvred that portion of the vessel closer still to the huge cruiser. He smoothly turned stern on and edged closer to the Tiger. The Santiago was already nearer to the Tiger than her designers would ever have expected her to be to another ship, and Dave could only wait nervously as the Helmsman took them ever closer. They were so close now Dave could pick out the burnishing on the hull from years of micro-meteorite impacts. Finally, there was a satisfying clang as the Helmsman completed the docking manoeuvre flawlessly, and Dave breathed a sigh of relief and made a mental note to complement him on a job well done.
By the time Dave got to the docking port, the Santiago’s deck-hands were already transferring the cargo. He caught sight of the Santiago’s First Officer and shook his hand warmly.
“Thanks for the lift. Sir, please pass my compliments to the Helmsman, that was a sweet move. If he ever wants a seat on a big ship I’d love to hear from him.”
To his surprise the Santiago’s First Officer snorted derisively “He’d probably quit the fleet rather than serve on this heap of junk!”
Dave was speechless, but before he could ask any questions the First Officer and the deck-hands were already disappearing through the rapidly closing airlock door. Amber lights flashed and Dave cleared the docking port as Santiago’s Captain hurriedly pulled his ship away from the Tiger.