Eric Olafson Series Boxed Set: Books 1 - 6 (The Galactic Chronicles Series)

by Vanessa Ravencroft

  The corridor was slightly curved, with airlocks and forcefield curtains every 10m all currently open or deactivated. Even the recycled air smelled differently to that on base. The smell was a mixture of metal polish, coffee and that undefined scent that machines always had. There was a faint hum in the background that transcended everything and spoke of the unimaginable energies harnessed deep down in engineering. I tried my best to keep up with the Shiss. When he stopped, a round massive metal door slid into the wall in less than a heartbeat and we stepped onto the bridge!

  The horseshoe-shaped room had six duty stations arranged before a raised command module and eight more duty stations behind it.

  The Shiss said, "This is the bridge, Mr. Olafson, and here are my senior officers." He made a gesture that included the entire room.

  "Yes Captain, Sir!"

  "Eric, this is not the Academy. You don't have to salute on the bridge. That distracts. If you come up here, all you do is give a nod to whoever is at the con. But you do repeat any order given while manning any of these duty stations. It's an old tradition but a good one. Don't snap to attention when someone looks at you. This is not the parade ground, so relax."

  "Yes Sir."

  A Klack stepped down from the command chair and said, "I am Lt. Commander Xt' nartoo and the XO of this ship. Welcome aboard, Ensign." Like all Klack, he looked very much like a giant, man-sized ant.

  "Thank you Sir. I am Eric Olafson."

  The Klack XO then turned to his Captain. "The new ISAH Pods and all upgrades have been installed. The last base engineer and technician have left the ship. The board shows green and we're cleared by Command to take off as soon as you give the order Sir."

  "We spend too long dirtside, my old friend. Let's get some vacuum under the keel."

  "Indeed Captain. Three months in dock and I don't want to see another upgrade for a long while."

  "Did you have the chance to go home to Klackt as you had planned?"

  "Yes, I went to celebrate the birthday of our dear queen, but I got enough of Klackt moisture and Klack ceremonial culture to last me a lifetime, Captain." The insect spread its feelers. "And it is right here where I feel at home."

  Captain Zezz patted the Klack on the torso. "I hear you!" Then Zezz walked me from station to station and introduced me to the other officers present on the bridge. I was surprised by the relaxed, friendly atmosphere on this bridge. There were high-ranking officers who I always thought would not give a second thought to a lowly Midshipman. It was a completely different atmosphere than on Captain McKenzie's bridge or Captain K'Tngnk’s style of command. McKenzie appeared to be removed from her crew and her style was not so different from the parade ground. The Klack Captain of the Madrid was very efficient and experienced and his bridge crew respected him, but here I could feel comradeship, and an atmosphere of more than just respect but deep friendship.

  He began on the left. "This is the communications console and currently occupied by Lt. Miglar. He is a Takian but don't let his rocky exterior fool you – he is an excellent linguist and intelligence officer."

  Takians came from a very hot planet and had a rocky, scaled skin that made them look somewhat like walking pinecones. "Don't listen to the Captain, Ensign. I even have problems with standard."

  "But am sure it helps to have three brains to remember all those different linguistics." I said, smiling.

  Miglar laughed. "Indeed it does!"

  Zezz went on to the next console. "This is the tactical station, weapon and shield control. It's the domain of Lt. Rider and he is from the Sol system and a dirtball called Pluto. He is always here, even when he is supposed to be off duty, except perhaps when he crawls through gun turrets or torpedo tubes. You won't find a better ship’s weapon expert anywhere, not even on the flagship the Devastator."

  He nodded towards the other stations. "We are missing OPS right now. The gentleman usually heading this department is still on leave but we don't need him for a shakedown and a test of the new engines."

  Zezz crossed his arms. "Now let's get this show on the road. Since we are missing this vital station, I am going to take OPS. Ensign, you have the con. Take her out."

  "Sir?"

  "You are to take the ship out, Ensign."

  "Sir, you want me to take the ship out from the con position and sit in the command chair?"

  "I want you to take the ship out. It makes no difference to me whether you are sitting or standing. It is practical to do it from that seat, but can be done while on the John. So go wherever you want. I am at OPS and right here in case you need help. Consider this hands-on training!"

  I swallowed and climbed into the command chair. The lizard Captain must have talked to Stokes.

  I sat down into the soft pseudo-leather. The chair immediately adjusted to my body. The master command console swung under my right hand and the direct access panel under my left. A bank of smaller screens lowered from the ceiling. As before, sitting here felt right. This time I was not at helm, and this time I was not alone on a small ship. This was a full-size battleship, but I knew what I had to do! "Mr. Miglar, contact Port Control and ask for the earliest departure window."

  "Aye, Sir."

  "Captain, Sir, OPS, inform all personnel of our imminent departure. Can I ask you, Sir, to give me a crew completion count and a cargo transfer status, please Sir?"

  "I am on it, Mr. Olafson!" He turned. "Forget that I am the Captain for a while. Don't give orders and then ask with a please. Just tell me and the others what to do!"

  "Aye, Sir!"

  Miglar said, "Sir, Arsenal Control gives us a departure window for 12:00 hrs."

  I glanced at the chronometer. It was 11:05 hrs now.

  "OPS here. Crew count complete. Ground crew will complete all cargo activities in two minutes."

  My left middle finger moved the direct access slider of the board communication system to Main Engineering. A bearded face appeared on one of the smaller screens above me. "Lt. Commander Woodstock here, Engineering."

  "Engine status, Mr. Woodstock?"

  "We are ready to go, Sir. All tanks are max and all reactors are on and ready for standby!"

  "Cut all umbilicals and go to full standby. Make her spaceworthy, Mr. Woodstock, and button her up."

  "Aye, Sir, full standby in three minutes."

  "OPS, sound final boarding alert and secure all hatches and airlocks and run a level five hull integrity test."

  "Aye, Sir."

  I glanced at the Chronometer and at 11:35 hrs I said, "Sound general quarters."

  The hull's integrity board showed green, meaning the ship was hermetically sealed and spaceworthy.

  The regular bridge lights dimmed away, replaced by the eerie red light of the battle station.

  The Klack responded at 11:42 hrs. "All stations report battle stations sir!"

  I acknowledged with a nod. "OPS, sound external lift-off warning. Comm, contact Port Control. We are at T minus 18."

  "Port Control contacted."

  "Helm, activate grav at neutral zero. Stand by for position adjustment and retract landing gear."

  That command would activate the ship’s artificial gravitation field and hold it hovering. Battleships were usually too big for port tractor fields. The arti-grav effectively neutralized the ship’s weight to zero, but not its mass, and a slight wind could push a zero grav ship to the side. The Hyperion was a 3500m battleship and even a few meter moves to either side could make us collide with ground equipment or buildings and cause damage. That is why the helmsman had to keep station with reaction thrusters and arti-grav directional fields.

  At 11:58 hrs I said, "Mr. Rider, activate battleshields."

  He turned with a questioning face. "Battleshields, Sir?"

  Zezz barked, "You heard the command Mr. Rider!"

  "Aye, Sir, battleshields!"

  I ignored the exchange and at 11:59 hrs I leaned back. "Helm, aft grav to minus five percent."

  The ship now had negative weight an
d was pushed by the planet's gravitation into the sky. This was called a gentle lift-off. To push millions of tons of mass even at zero weight with standard thrusters would have caused a storm of biblical proportions on the planet surface. Only after passing through the thick sulfuric clouds I said, "Helm, grav negative 12, main thrusters at one percent. Comm, send Port Control standard lift-off message!"

  After we passed the last traces of atmosphere I said, "Helm, standard orbit. XO, stand down from General Quarters. Tactical, deactivate battleshields."

  Zezz turned. "Why orbit?"

  "Sir, I don't know what course you want."

  Zezz pointed to the main screen. "This is a shakedown cruise. Pick one!"

  "Aye, Sir. Helm, lay in a course to the Vanderstraat Nebulae, engage all engines full. After FTL threshold, go to max cruise."

  Zezz got up and so did I.

  The normal lights had come back on. "That was not bad at all, Ensign. I know you are a decent pilot with small craft, but I had no idea they teach battleship maneuvering with this much detail in first year."

  "They do not, Sir, as far as I know."

  The Klack wiggled his antenna. "All they get to steer are D12s."

  Zezz pointed his clawed finger at Rider. "Mr. Rider, that was bad! What was that all about?"

  The Tactical Officer made a sheepish face. "Sir I am sorry, but that greenhorn ordered shields. Who ever heard of taking off with full battleshields?"

  The Captain looked at me. "Why don't you explain to us why you ordered General Quarters and shields?"

  "Sir, it was the first time I was at the con taking a ship of this size from dirtside. In the event that I made a mistake or forgot something and you had to intervene, all crew would be at their posts and no time lost. I asked for shields because in a high traffic place like Arsenal II there is a slim chance that a civilian craft, some automated cargo drone or other object comes into the flight path of a ship at lift-off. I wanted to make sure we do not get damaged in case of such a collision. Also, all shields automatically adjust to the best aerodynamic shape inside an atmosphere. This would push any object in our path aside and reduce drag to near zero, reducing grav strain, atmospheric disturbance and conserve energy."

  Rider stepped back. "Whoa, you had a whole catalog of sound reasons. You aren't really a sophomore freshman!"

  He laughed. "You had me believe it too. What is he really? Commander, Captain?"

  "He really is a Midshipman and this is no joke, Mr. Rider. If you do this again and question a command given by the person at the con I will have you removed from post! We have served together a long time now and we are friends but don't test my resolve in this regard!"

  Rider lowered his head and nodded. "I won't Sir!"

  Zezz looked over his shoulder, turning his head almost to the back. "Why the Vanderstraat Nebulae?"

  "You said any course, Sir, and I always wanted to see that Nebulae close up. It is deep in Union space and thus very unlikely that we will run into any trouble with untested systems. Besides, we can test shields and sensors there."

  "Sound reasoning! Vanderstraat it is."

  Rider was still staring at me and after a while even Zezz noticed. "What is it, Mr. Rider? Never seen a Midshipman before?"

  "I have never seen one displaying that kind of ribbon display and on top the Medal of Honor, Sir."

  That caught the attention of everyone on the bridge and all heads turned.

  The Shiss Captain revealed his sharp teeth. "He earned it too; I was there when it happened. Now all of you, pay attention to your boards!" To me, he said, "I release you from the con now. Take OPS!"

  The Vanderstraat nebulae were even more spectacular than I thought they would be. Every shade of red from the deepest violet to the brightest orange glowed from the recent supernova in the ring-shaped nebula and transformed the eternal night of space into something so beautiful that no one looking at it could be completely atheistic, at least in my opinion.

  OPS was a very demanding post and I had to keep all my concentration on the tasks at hand – and there were many. OPS was short for Ship Operations and OPS was an extremely confusing post. The officer on that duty post was responsible for coordinating ship activities so as not to overload any one system, and for distributing power in special situations. That post also handled inter-ship communication and allocated IST resources in times of need or in battle. It monitored and supervised Damage Control, Auxiliary Craft operations and coordinated Ship Command with the Flight Boss. A battleship like the Hyperion was also a carrier and had a host of shuttles, gunboats and specialized small craft, destroyers and courier ships as well as two complete Wolfcraft fighter squadrons. The OPS position had to fill in for Helm or Navigation when necessary, and finally, was also required to bring all the stations that worked together. In short, it was the post that managed all the operations of the ship and was often called the XO's Desk.

  Given all these tasks, it was a complicated and very demanding position and took everything I had in terms of applying what I had learned so far. I had to concentrate hard not to overlook or miss anything. Despite that, I couldn't wait for rest periods to be over so I could be back on the bridge. This was real! No test, no school, not a simulation, but a real ship in real space with real consequences.

  After we had visited the Vanderstraat Nebulae we got orders to patrol a region known for its Shiss raider activity. We escorted a convoy of sensitive materials to Sares and then took part in a live fire exercise with the rest of the 41st Fleet - the Fleet of which the Hyperion was a part.

  It was, according to Zezz, routine battleship business. Nothing really spectacular happened, yet I found even the night shifts exciting. In my down time I had to memorize the books of Zezz's Captain’s Treasure, the very same books Admiral Stokes had recommended. He quizzed me daily, not just to see if I had memorized the words but also what I was thinking and to what conclusions I came after finishing a chapter. After the exercise he had me write a battle analysis and wanted me to replay the situation in simulations and explain to him why certain orders had been given.

  I was certain I learned more in those weeks than in all my life before. One of his fighter pilots introduced me to the Wolfcraft fighter and I spent many hours in the onboard simulator. No one treated me like a low, unimportant Midshipman but with a professional level of comradeship I enjoyed very much. Time flew by as if it was on fast forward.

  INTERLUDE: EGILL

  Egill leaned back in his seat overlooking the Assembly and sighed. It was a great life and he enjoyed every minute of it, but in moments like this he found himself feeling a little homesick, and he decided to take a vacation from the representation business and visit Nilfeheim for a month or two.

  Algear, his Saresii friend entered and sat down in what had long ago ceased to be a visitor's chair. "What is it with the sighing? You look grumpier than usual, even half asleep."

  Egill did not open his eyes. "I feel a little homesick. It is almost two years now since I have seen Nilfeheim."

  "Well, when are we leaving? You've promised to show me that iceball of yours for almost as long."

  The Nilfeheim elder grunted something as he adjusted the seat in an upright position and then looked at the Saresii who had become his best friend. "Are you sure you want to see a planet full of skull-bashing Neo Vikings?"

  "I have listened to you describe it enough, I doubt it will hold all that many surprises."

  Before Egill was able to give him a sarcastic reply the door opened once more and the Narth representative entered and found his chair as well. "One also wishes to accompany you."

  Egill laughed. "I will gladly take you two along; it will be a hoot to see Nilfeheim react to visitors like you."

  The Narth cocked his shrouded head. "Yes, they will see my hood, I am certain, but I fail to understand how my choice of dress would cause any reaction of a planet, an object unable to react."

  "No, not hood, I said hoot. That's an expression to describe the reac
tion of the population of Nilfeheim seeing a real Narth and a Saresii male in all its female glory."

  The Narth actually raised his hands in a very human gesture. "I am sharing much mono-directional time with you and yet your expressions and way of communication holds more mysteries to Narth than the chaotic energy and mass conditions of the galaxies’ center."

  The Narth put his hand on where his chin would be and shook his head. "This was an ill-chosen reference as the center actually holds no real mysteries."

  Egill sighed again and smiled. "I still got the picture and yes, you are both welcome to tag along. It is high time Nilfeheim was a little more exposed to other Union civilizations anyway."

  "Maybe we do not have to elaborate on Saresii details," Algear suggested. "I respect your culture, Old Grump, but I think they have no clue what a Narth is anyway."

  "Don't sit on such a high snapper yourself, I doubt even the entire Assembly of all Saresii could not really explain that either."

  The Narth held up his right hand. "I will gladly supply you with clues if that is what it takes for you to understand Narth! I tried the direct approach and explained it to you, without success it seems."

  Algear padded the shoulder of the Narth in a gesture he had copied from Egill. "No worries my hooded friend, your explanations are eloquent. It is our limited intellect that fails to follow you after the third sentence, but we like you anyway."

  "One is pleased that it is so. One thinks of you applying positive variables as well."

  "So you express your friendship to us in some sort of mathematical equation?" Egill asked, blinking his eyes.

  "Yes, mathematics is a very adequate term to describe this process, however it does not equate. You are too erratic and illogical to come to an equation."

  Algear rolled his eyes and turned to Egill. "You did ask!"

  INTERLUDE: FIRST SON OF DARKNESS

  For all his connections and all his Psionic powers, for all his influence and knowledge, the First Son of Darkness was just a tool, another piece in a cosmic game. Despite his blindness, caused by a sense of unequaled self-importance, he was quite intelligent and was aware of this, but he had plans to elevate himself above being just a game piece. The key to his quest for godhood was knowledge. Here on Netlor, a planet in free space, he planned to gain more.