It was exactly 0800 hrs, and I stepped onto the bridge to begin my forenoon watch. Pure, who stood guard with another Marine, bellowed a crisp, “Captain on the bridge.”
The huge Y’All got up from the command seat, as he had the morning watch at the Conn. He saluted and gave me a brief report of what happened during the morning watch. I relieved him and sat down. A yeoman appeared silently at my right side and handed me my coffee mug.
Har-Hi had been right behind me and said, “Good morning, Captain.” Then he handed me a clipboard. “Thanks to the fast IST and the crew getting used to it and the ship, we are now at exactly fifty-nine seconds until everyone reports Battle Stations reached. I am confident I will be able to shave another two or three seconds off with a few more drills.”
I thanked him and signed off on his training and exercise schedule.
Elfi interrupted and said, “Captain, we are being hailed on Secure-Comm. It is the Fleet Admiral.”
I put my cup down. “Lieutenant Pure, secure the bridge. Narth, please activate all anti-listening devices. Elfi, please put him on the main viewer.”
The grizzled face of the ancient admiral appeared. “Good morning, Tigershark; good morning, Captain Olafson. I have just read your last report, and I think you’ve drilled and exercised enough. It’s time to get your show on the road.”
A tingle went down my spine and I said, “We are as ready as we can be, but we still have things missing and the crew is not complete.”
He sat behind his desk at Annapolis towers as he looked at us and said, “Yes, I know there are still things missing, like your small craft and the parts for the Narth time shield. However, I cannot authorize the Wolfcraft at the base, as you need special craft modified and unidentifiable as Terran fighter craft. The new fighter and auxiliary craft intended for the Wolfcraft are not ready yet, but I hope I can send them in two or three months to Richter Base. However, further upgrades must wait until your next scheduled upgrade and supply interval.”
“Aye, sir.”
“I wish I could give you more time to train, but today is the day and your mission must commence. Two officers we suspected to have ties to the Worm have stolen a Barracuda destroyer two days ago in Corri-Door system after they managed to escape the agents closing in on them. The Barracuda is armed with a translocator cannon and Loki torpedoes. While we did send the special destruct pulse code and are fairly sure they lost the use of the cannon, it is not certain.
“One of the officers is also in possession of Maintenance Manual 15. Your first mission is to find the Barracuda and either capture or eliminate the deserters. You are hereby ordered to eliminate anyone who you suspect to have seen or might be in possession of Manual 15. I am transmitting all data we have on these two and the last Intel reports where they might be. Find and recover that Union ship if you can, destroy it if you can’t. Again, I repeat, you are under direct assembly orders to execute and eliminate anyone you even suspect of having seen the Translocator Cannons or the manual. God’s speed to you all and return safely!”
I acknowledged, and he cut the transmission.
I got up from my seat and said to Har-Hi, “Please assemble the crew in the empty Hangar A in ten minutes.”
I inspected my dress uniform carefully and tugged at my sleeves and made sure the gloves did not throw any wrinkles. I tried to focus and stepped behind the lectern; before me stood a crew of three hundred, a contingent of fifty Ultra Marines, and my friends.
Only Har-Hi stood with me on the little raised platform and he said, “Attention, Captain on deck!” It was a proud moment to see them snap into attention but also a sobering and scary realization that I was responsible for each and every one of them.
“At ease!” I gave them a moment and then began. “Some of you have been briefed about our mission and others have not. I understand that you are all handpicked volunteers and you know that this is a very secretive mission. Before I get into details, let me say a few words about me and what I expect from you and what you can expect from me.
“First of all, my door is always open for anyone, regardless of rank or position. You can come to me with everything; complaints, ideas, suggestions, or problems. When I was a midshipman, I often wondered where the ship was heading and what our orders were and what went on in general. It won’t be like this on the Tigershark. I want you all to know what is going on. There will be a dedicated inter-ship channel where you can listen in on what is going o on the bridge and Ship is allowed to tell you where we going and all that. Unless I am ordered by higher authority or the situation really leaves me no other choice, there won’t be any secrets. I want us to grow into a unit where we can trust each other and rank and position means little.
“To this effect, I won’t be a stickler on regulations and, in general, if it doesn’t interfere with your job it is allowed. I simply trust you to be professional enough to know where the limits are. Being intoxicated while on duty, for example, would be a grave misuse of my trust. I will never judge without knowing all the facts but if I learn that someone thinks I am a push around or takes advantage of this, you will find that I will not hesitate to act. There will be not second chance and no grace period. I will treat each of you with the respect and dignity you deserve, but I expect the same from you.
“When I come to a decision and issue an order, I expect it to be executed without hesitation and discussion. Now, if there is something I did that bugs you or you think I should have done differently, you are welcome to tell me. Under no circumstance will an open word of honest critique lead to reprimand or punishment if it is brought to me in an adult and respectful way. And if you really want to call me an asshole for something I deserve, seek me out after duty, and if any way possible in a private fashion, and it won’t end up in anyone’s file.”
The crew laughed at that.
I let them settle down again and continued, “Now, let me tell you what this ship is all about, why everything is so hush-hush and secret. We are going to hunt pirates and similar derelicts and criminals in Free Space. We are going to do that disguised as pirates ourselves. Every one of you received a second identity, which is detailed in the sealed part of your order chip. You only need those when outside the ship if we interact with others. All identities have a real background and can be checked by whoever wants to check on it. You are also allowed to dress as pirates if you can grow beards and so forth, but I still expect you to be Union military inside the ship and under your costumes.
“We received our first orders today and we will lift off shortly. Are there any questions?”
A brown-furred Garbini raised his tentacles.
“You got a question, Petty Officer?” The Garbini wore the uniform of an Engineering Specialist.
“Petty Officer Brush here, Captain. I am an Engineering Specialist, but I would much rather be a Med Tech. It’s a long story, but they always make Garbinis into engineers without ever really asking. My mother wants me to be an engineer and so does my father, but I am interested in Med Tech and not engineering. Now it happens to be that your crew has a famous Shail Med Tech, as Shail are always sent to med school, but he would much rather be an engineer.”
As the Garbini explained his completely mission-unrelated question, a Shail on the other side floating by the med personnel raised his Grav Sled a little higher and waved his stalk eyes at me.
I shrugged. “I see no reason why you can’t switch. It is okay by me. But I want you to both talk to your department leaders and make this a proper switch. It also means you got a whole lot to catch up on and learn in your new fields. You must be tested as well, of course.”
The Garbini looked happy. “We are already studying, and we will be ready for the monthly performance tests!”
I smiled and said, “Well, this effectively ends my address to you. Are there any other questions? Perhaps mission related?”
They simply looked at me without raising any questions. Har-Hi dismissed them.
Now they act
ually cheered me and gave me a hooray that constricted my throat and filled me with humility and pride at the same time, something that should, of course, not be possible but it was.
Richter Four sank away beneath us as the Tigershark left behind the last traces of atmosphere and entered the medium she was made for and for our first real mission.
I said, “Mr. Krabbel, take her to a point five light years past the system. Coordinate with Mr. Narth and his sensors to make sure we are really alone out there. Mr. Shaka, engage Trans light as soon as you can.”
They answered with a crisp, “Aye, Captain,” to my orders and the stars suddenly turned to long lines for the duration of a heartbeat then the viewer went dark. It took almost a second and they returned. Narth turned and apologized, “Captain, the ship accelerates so fast the optical software that compensates for quasi-space could not keep up.”
Unlike other computronics, which never initiated conversation, Ship said, “Captain, I believe I can adjust that software somewhat and reduce the lag approximately fifty percent.”
Shea, who, when on duty wore her mask again, as she felt more comfortable with it, said, “If we write a subroutine with Shaka’s neural impulse as focus, at the same time he kicks the accelerator it should be possible to completely eliminate the lag.”
“Brilliant!” Narth and Ship agreed simultaneously.
I rolled my eyes and looked at Har-Hi. “Most ships have one nerd. We got three!”
The Dai giggled. “We’re lucky Cirruit is busy downstairs or we could start our own Tech Geek convention.”
Shea turned. “The term nerd became quite fashionable along with the term geek in the early 21st century. Cultural reference work shows that—”
Krabbel raised one of his legs. “Hate to interrupt, but we are going to drop out of quasi-space in four seconds as we approach the requested five LY mark, Captain!”
“All right, OPS stand by for Janus Device. Science, assist OPS at sensors and make sure we are alone. Har-Hi, take one of our Gazelles and check us out with your sensors and your eyes. I want to make sure it works.”
Narth turned his seat, so he faced the special console that was part of his station and his fingers touched a series of keys and contacts, then he said, “Standing by on Janus System; all indicators are green. Janus Image selected and ready to be deployed.”
Shea confirmed, “We are the only object within five light years, artificial or otherwise, and there are no ships of any kind beyond this sphere within sensor range”
“Thank you, Ms. Schwartz!”
Har-Hi had already left the bridge and was on his way to pilot one of our two Gazelle long-range recon craft, the only auxiliary craft we had in our otherwise empty hangars.
So I leaned over the left side of my command chair a little to get a glimpse of the special console as I said, “Mr. Narth, activate the Janus Device.”
He pushed a single contact and said, “Pattern Disguise program, ‘Kartanian Destroyer Merchant’ accepted and loaded. Simulated Matter sequencing in progress, Mask specific engine and sensor signature in place, transformation commenced and will be completed in twelve seconds.”
On the main screen, we watched a Gazelle speed away. Elfi established remote sensor link and communications, so we would see what Har-Hi saw.
Har-Hi pulled the fast craft in a tight loop and lined its optical sensors up with the Tigershark. Where our ship supposed to be was indeed a worn-out coffin-shaped Kartanian.
Shea and Narth worked together on the science console and after two minutes she turned, “We slaved the Gazelle sensors and tried every scanning trick in the book and a few that are not recommended or in the book. We still get nothing but data about a Kartanian Armed Trader with strong but old-fashioned and a tad misaligned engines and 150 life signatures. Even the Psionic analysis shows only 150 active minds.”
Har-Hi’s voice came on and he sounded deeply impressed. “That is the most wicked technology I have ever seen. What could we Dai do with something like that?”
I responded, “Let us be glad they do not have that tech.” I, too, was impressed and just a little frightened by what such technology could mean if it became more commonly available.
Elfi turned. “Captain, I am getting hundreds of distress calls from the Golden Market where the Barracuda was last reported!”
I said, “Har-Hi, get back in as fast as you can.”
Narth and Shea went over to help Elfi, and I simply leaned back. They would give me an answer as soon as they could.
Sure enough, they had sorted it out fast, and Elfi said, “We got 375 distress calls, all coming from Golden Market Seven, 129 light years from here and near the Ballard Nebula Expanse where Unclaimed Space and Free Space merge; 207 of the calls came from civilian and commercial ships with Union transponder codes. The rest come from non-Union contacts and Golden Market Seven itself.”
Shea looked up from readout and said, “While there is a lot of confusion there, the common theme of the calls is that they were attacked by thousands of little balls that can’t be destroyed. From the description of the balls, it looks as if they have translocator weaponry.”
I acknowledged and said, “Shea, give me a short rundown on these Golden Markets.”
She answered right away, “There are eighty known Golden Markets in the galaxy, all operated by the Golden Ones. The Golden and the Blue are relatives to the Kermac and came from the original home world Koken. There is not all that much known about the Golden; for example, their true tech level, their psionic abilities, and how many there are. The Golden Ones keep themselves strictly neutral in all conflicts, but they did initiate the last cease-fire agreement between the Big Four by asking the Blue to intermediate. It is not known if they have a home system, as no planetary system we know of is identified as being theirs. They do have a sizeable fleet and not just merchant ships. Their technology is considerably higher developed than Kermac. The Fleet Bureau of External Threat assessment classifies the Golden as a potential Class III opponent if it would come to a conflict between them and us.”
That made them pretty dangerous. The Nul and the Kermac also were classified as Class III and only the Y’All exceeded that with Class II. Thankfully, the Union had never faced an opposing force that was deemed as a Class I opponent.
Shea continued, “Classified PSI Corps reports claim that they have only sporadic and weak psionic powers that usually manifest as telepathy, but they are immune to most forms of psionic attacks and immune to telepaths.
“These markets are usually hollowed-out moons or asteroids of considerable size with bazaars inside where every commodity can be sold or purchased, except slaves. The Golden Ones do not accept or promote slave trade, at least at none of the known markets. Market 7 is the closest to Union Space and is drifting toward our space and should cross the border in four thousand years.”
Har-Hi came back on the bridge and Hans said, “Intel reports indicate that Solder Fontanet and Oliver Whelan, the two officers we are currently trying to apprehend, were seen in the vicinity of that market only seventy-two hours ago.”
I said, “Elfi, get me a direct link to the admiral.”
“Link requested, Captain. Secure communications solid.” She raised her hand with two fingers showing, then one and finally her fist, indicating the seconds until the connection was made.
“Put him on.”
McElligott’s sleepy face appeared. He was obviously in his bedroom and in his PJs. He rubbed his eyes and grunted with a dry voice, “Oh, it’s Captain Olafson. Just left the nest and already a call? Ran into a planet or lost something?”
I told him about the distress calls and the report about Translocator usage. Before he could answer, he got another call and made a sign with his hand to stand by. I heard a voice giving him a similar report. After he acknowledged the other person, he told me, “Since it is unclaimed space, switch your appearance to Union. Pick something common, don’t expose the Tigershark’s true appearance, and invest
igate. I am sending a battlegroup but you’re the closest unit.”
“Aye, sir.”
The screen went dark and Har-Hi, who had, of course, heard every word said, “Mr. Narth, do we have a Janus Program for that?”
My hooded friend turned to his Janus device and said, “Aye, sir. We got a Phobos Class Destroyer on file.”
I nodded. “Activate it.” To Krabbel, I said, “Plot us a course to that market.”
To our helmsman, I said, “Shaka, drop out of Quasi, a light year away from the asteroid.”
Chapter 4: Minis
“Five minutes to Quasi-Drop!” Har-Hi said.
“Sound battle stations. Load all cannons. Stand by on sharp shooters!”
This was the very first time I’d called battle stations on my own ship for real. My command seat moved back, the integrated Auto-Dresser put me into a Battlesuit and the Direct Command Dome lowered, giving me an unobstructed view of space, all around the ship. Sensor data was linked to the visual read out. The same happened to every duty station. The range of our weapons was shown around my new view in faint color spheres. Every door and dividing lock in the entire ship closed, creating thousands of little compartments, almost like the cells of a living being. In case of a hull breach, catastrophic pressure and air loss would not affect the entire ship.
We dropped out of quasi-space and our sensors picked up the asteroid immediately, as well as hundreds of damaged and destroyed ships. The asteroid was under a flickering shield, and our long-range sensors showed the energy signatures of antimatter impacts inside the shields. As far as we knew, only translocator weapons could do that. Our sensors also picked up the aggressors. Fifty ball-shaped objects, each about ten meters in diameter.
The blue science symbol flashed, and I acknowledged with an eye blink. Shea reported, “Sensor analysis in progress. Alien objects are of no known configuration; their weaponry is similar to Translocator technology and their shields are equal to our most advanced TransDim Shields. They are much smaller in size, but also much more efficient. Material analysis incomplete due to shield interference.”
Eric Olafson Series Boxed Set: Books 1 - 7 Page 84