by Linn Schwab
“Forget it,” Delia instructed her. “I want you to proceed directly to the bridge. There’s a memory chip on the systems console that might contain video of what happened here.”
Jordan felt herself wince again. The Kiwi’s crew would likely all be trapped in the bridge. Or at least what was left of them would be trapped there, floating around loose in the cabin’s interior. She had no desire to see their remains, or attempt to push them out of her path so she could make her way to the systems console. To make matters worse, these girls had been her friends. She knew every one of them by name. Their living faces were still fresh in her memory. It was difficult to imagine a more ghastly assignment than being sent in amongst their corpses.
“Jordan?” Delia prompted her after receiving no reply for a time.
Her breaths were coming more rapidly now. “I’ll try,” she answered, nearly choking on the words.
With her thoughts now focused on what she might encounter, she made her way to the ladder opening, and pulled herself up to the bridge corridor. A hard black substance clung to the inner walls. The emergency seal, she told herself. For all the good it did them. The doors to the bridge were still closed and secured. She would have to use the hand wheel to open them.
“Jordan?” Delia prompted again.
“I’m at the bridge. It’s gonna take me a minute to open the doors.” She found the locking lever and released it, then placed both hands on the rotary handle and slowly began to turn it counterclockwise. The doors released in a sudden jerking motion, then gradually pulled away from each other as Jordan continued spinning the wheel. When the gap between them was broad enough for her to enter, she leaned to her left and peered inside the bridge.
The scene was every bit as bad as she’d imagined — the bodies of her friends frozen in apparent agony, their faces too unsettling to look upon. She hated her new captain for making her do this, but at the same time she realized it had to be done. After the initial horror of the moment, the anguished expressions of the Kiwi’s crew seemed to be urging her to complete her mission. Don’t let this happen again, they implored her. Take what you came for so our sisters might be warned.
Fearing her resolve would only weaken if she dawdled, she grasped the inner edges of the doors and took her first steps inside the room. One of the bodies brushed against her shoulder as she made her way to the systems console. “Sorry,” she whispered, recoiling from the contact. Her lifeless sister seemed not to take offense. She pulled both arms tighter in to her body in the hopes of avoiding any further collisions. Just a few steps more and she was at the console. The chip that Delia had asked her to retrieve was still in its slot, and well within her reach, though the gloves of her suit proved cumbersome enough that she wasn’t able to pry it free.
As she looked around herself for a solution, a frantic call came through from Delia. “Jordan, we need you to get back here right away!” A burst of static obscured the remainder of the message, but she clearly heard the words “enemy ships,” and she felt as if her heart was on the verge of exploding. She looked down at the memory chip once again and anguished over what she should do. Should she risk even a brief delay to retrieve it, or should she just head back to the ship right away? The dilemma was resolved for her an instant later when the Calypso appeared through the Kiwi’s forward windows — her engines burning fierce and bright as she sped away, leaving Cora stranded, with only the dead to keep her company. Nooooooo! she wanted to scream, but her lungs refused to release any air, and the scream died a withering death in her throat.
* * * *
“Jordan, can you hear me?” Delia screamed into the headset.
“It’s no use, we’re being jammed!” Audrey informed her.
Delia’s eyes turned to Cora and were met by a look of shock and betrayal. “We’ll come back for her, Cora, I promise!” she insisted. “But right now the Calypso is needed elsewhere.”
The words offered little consolation to Cora as she watched the Kiwi fade away in the distance.
Will I ever earn their trust now? Delia wondered, watching the eyes of her newest crew member. Or will they see me as nothing but a heartless monster, too reckless with the lives of her own personnel, too remorseless in her execution of command?
“Fleet action, ten degrees to starboard!” Tammy said, interrupting Delia’s train of thought.
As Emily made a course correction, Delia cast a desperate glance at Cora. The warning should have come from her instead of Tammy, but she was clearly still distracted by the plight of her squad mate. “Cora, I know you’re upset,” she said, “but I really need you to stay focused on your duties right now.”
“I’m sorry,” Cora whimpered in apology and snapped her attention back to her instruments. “Fleet action twenty kilometers ahead now. Gunships actively exchanging fire.”
“How many ships are currently involved?”
“Enemy ships,” Cora said, pausing to count, “...looks like three light cruisers, four heavy cruisers, and one battleship. Eight light cruisers on the Sentinel side.”
“That’s it?” Delia asked. “Just eight light cruisers? No heavy gunships?”
Cora shook her head. “I see some Sentinel fighters and maybe three or four destroyers, but no heavy gunships anywhere in range.” A fireball appeared amongst the Sentinel fleet, prompting her to check her numbers again. She winced and lowered her head in dismay. “Seven light cruisers,” she sadly reported. “We’re gonna lose this one, aren’t we?” she said. Her observation brought only silent stares from the others.
Delia briefly closed her eyes in respect for the girls who had just lost their lives. When she opened them she looked toward the enemy fleet and quickly analyzed its formation — a single battleship positioned near the center, shielded on all sides by a cluster of cruisers. Same tactic they used the last time, she mused, but she suspected this wasn’t the same group of ships. She noted the positioning of their guns and decided they hadn’t yet detected the Calypso. “Emily, head straight for the center of their fleet. Maintain full attack speed or better. I want to be in firing range before they spot us.”
“Understood,” Emily replied. “Which ship do you want me to target?”
“We’re going after the battleship. Keep us pointed at her nose as best you can.”
“We won’t have a clear shot at her,” Emily argued. “There’s a heavy cruiser in our line of fire.”
A glint of disdain appeared in Delia’s eyes, aimed squarely at the enemy vessel in her path. “Then we’ll punish it for being in our way,” she insisted. “Distance to target?”
“Twenty seconds to firing range,” Tammy answered.
“Set rocket batteries to medium dispersal! Open the outer torpedo tube doors! Stand by to fire a full spread of six, at two second intervals, on my command! Ready on torpedoes!”
“Ready on torpedoes!” Jennifer replied.
Delia stared at the targeting display as she waited for the numbers to climb into range. With the larger ship hiding in the smaller ship’s shadow, the indicator kept flipping unpredictably between them as it struggled to determine which vessel to target. “Steady...” she said, watching the display fluctuate. It refused to stabilize, inflaming her ire. As her ship closed in on the enemy fleet, she could see fighters from both sides engaging each other, and Sentinel destroyers taking withering fire. Only the Calypso remained outside the deadly chaos. But the time had now come for her to join the fray. “FIRE!” she yelled, choosing to ignore the display and just gamble that a few of her shots would hit home.
One after another, the launch tubes roared, and all six torpedoes streamed out ahead. One after another, the warheads erupted, as all six torpedoes connected with a target. The cruiser endured the brunt of the assault, taking four torpedoes to the starboard side. But two shots slipped past her and struck the battleship near the base of its forward superstructure. Delia froze for an instant to take in the results. The attack had been successful beyond her wildest hopes. The battered
heavy cruiser was falling behind, and the dreadnought’s guns were in disarray, giving brief respite to the line of Sentinel cruisers.
Guns began swinging toward the Calypso, now that her presence had been announced. Emily tried her best to avoid taking fire by ducking in between the enemy ships and exiting the opposite side of the formation.
“Countdown on the reload!” Delia demanded as Emily swung around for another attack run.
“Twelve seconds!” Cora replied.
The Calypso shuddered as a rocket impacted on the rear of her hull.
“Enemy fighters coming in behind us!” Tammy yelled.
Instinctively, Delia looked to the auxiliaries station before remembering she’d left Jordan behind on the Kiwi. Those fighters are too close for the smoke screen, anyway, she realized. “Let’s give them a face full of rockets, Emily! One quarter spin to the port side, now!”
In the blink of an eye, Emily disengaged the stabilizer and spun the Calypso around to the left, exposing the fighters to her port batteries. Jennifer capped the maneuver by pulling both triggers, and unleashing a devastating barrage of rockets on the unsuspecting enemy pilots. With the pursuing fighters now smoldering or scattered, Emily reengaged the stabilizer, and the Calypso righted itself in an instant, aligning its nose with its forward progress.
Cora stared at her new crewmates in awe, apparently dumbstruck by their skill and precision.
“Countdown!” Delia reminded her.
“Uh, tubes one and two are ready,” she stammered. “Three is ready ... four is ready...”
Delia’s eyes began searching for a target. The enemy fleet was pressing onward, closing in on the line of Sentinel cruisers. The big guns were all facing to starboard now, leaving the port side of the fleet relatively unprotected. They were massing their fire in an attempt to break through the line, while counting on the strength of their armored plating to shield them from the smaller guns of their foes. If they managed to break through, it could spell trouble for Orion. The station’s position might very well be compromised. And suddenly, something clicked in her mind. The radio jamming is coming from Orion! Commander Freeling knows she’s in trouble! These ships are already too close for comfort!
“Target, Captain?” Emily asked.
It was all or nothing now, Delia decided. “Swing wide and come in on the battleship again.” The move would cost her valuable time, as she knew every one of her crew was well aware. It would also give enemy fighters a chance to swarm her before she could fire again.
Emily followed her command without question and set the Calypso on a sweeping arc.
“Ready on torpedoes!” Delia ordered.
“Ready on torpedoes!” Jennifer confirmed.
“We just picked up a double!” Tammy announced, looking back at an angle through the port side windows.
Delia checked the tactical display. A second destroyer had formed up with the Calypso in a standard staggered attack pattern. Two ships meant twice the potential firepower — an opportunity she could not afford to waste. She turned her eyes to the targeting display, realizing she would have to adjust her timing to take full advantage of the second ship’s torpedoes.
“We’ve picked up a third!” Cora yelled in excitement.
Delia exchanged a quick glance with Emily. With a third Sentinel destroyer now joining the formation, the pressure on both of them to perform was tremendous. She checked the targeting display again, and made the adjustments to the best of her ability, counting the numbers off in her head as Emily zeroed in on the target. “FIRE!” she yelled when the ships were in range.
Torpedoes began flying toward the enemy fleet, bringing with them a relentless onslaught of destruction. Jennifer managed to get three of them away before Emily was forced to abandon the assault to avoid getting dangerously close to the target. Between the three ships, they got nine torpedoes off — seven of which struck the battleship’s hull. An eighth hit one of the enemy light cruisers, while the last somehow managed to slip past everything and disappear into the depths of the cosmos, never to be seen again by human eyes.
While the dreadnought succumbed to a series of explosions, the remaining enemy ships veered away and established a course in the opposite direction. They endured parting shots from the Sentinel cruisers, but the battle was over. The retreat was on. Both sides’ forces were left in tatters. Delia briefly considered giving chase, but soon realized it wouldn’t be a wise decision.
With their fighters forming a defensive screen, the enemy cruisers limped out of sight, once again relinquishing the field of battle, at the cost of a capital ship and many lives. When they were safely out of range, Delia relaxed. Moments later, the jamming from Orion ceased. “Emily,” she said, “take us back to the Kiwi. A member of our crew is still awaiting our return.”
When they arrived at the Kiwi, the ship was dark and still. There was no sign of Jordan anywhere outside the hull. Repeated calls to her brought no response, causing anguish and concern amongst the crew of the Calypso.
“Jordan, can you hear me?” Audrey repeated. She looked up at Delia and glumly shook her head. “It’s no use. She isn’t responding.”
Delia sighed and walked over to Cora. “What do her life signs look like?” she asked. “Is it possible something happened to her?”
Cora checked the EVA suit’s readings. “Her vitals are all reading in normal range. I don’t understand it. Why isn’t she answering?”
“Maybe she’s unconscious?” Tammy suggested.
“I don’t think so,” Cora said, looking at the vital signs again.
Delia frowned and looked out at the Kiwi. “I think I know what’s going on. Audrey, will you help me suit up. I’m gonna have to go bring her back.”
Tammy suddenly sprang to her feet. “The captain shouldn’t leave the ship,” she protested. “Send one of us to get her instead.”
“No,” Delia said, heading for the exit. “I’m the one who sent her. It has to be me.”
* * * *
The Kiwi’s interior was deathly still. Bullet holes greeted Delia everywhere she looked. Taking care to avoid cutting her suit on metal shards, she cautiously made her way to the bridge, unnerved by the horrors she might witness there. She announced her presence to Jordan only once, but again received only silence in response. With no other choice but to continue onward, she forced herself to enter the bridge, and look upon the faces of the Kiwi’s silent crew.
All seven of them appeared to be present, slowly drifting or at rest in various locations. Though it was heartbreaking to see them in this condition, it wasn’t as frightening as she’d imagined. Their expressions trended more toward peacefulness than torment.
She found Jordan sitting at the systems console, staring blankly at one of her deceased acquaintances, with both of her hands clasped together on her knees. In a gesture of sincere apology, Delia carefully moved to her side and joined her in silent observation for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We had to leave. It wasn’t something I wanted to do.”
After a brief pause, Jordan raised her arm up and pointed a finger toward the dead Sentinels. “They want to go home,” she somberly insisted, ignoring her captain’s apology.
Concern over her crewmember’s state of mind burrowed deep into Delia’s thoughts for a moment. Had being left here with the dead somehow compromised her sanity? Could it have been enough to test the limits of her mental stability? But as she pondered Jordan’s ability to reason, she found herself staring at the corpses in wonder, and questioning the soundness of her own perceptions. While it was difficult to imagine the dead wanting anything, when she looked at their faces she couldn’t shake the feeling that Jordan might be right about this.
“Come on,” she said, offering to help Jordan up. “We’ll do the best we can for them.”
Once they were safely on board the Calypso, Delia carried through on her promise. A gentle push from the Calypso sent the Kiwi slowly drifting on a course that would carry her back to Valha
lla.
Side by side, the two of them stood at the window, observing the Kiwi’s progress in silence. “You do realize,” Delia said after a moment, “they’re just gonna burn up in the planet’s atmosphere.”
Jordan briefly searched her feelings and realized the thought didn’t seem to bother her. She answered her captain with a solemn nod. “It’s okay,” she said. “At least they’ll be home.”
TRIVIAL RECALL 081
Lunch was winding down in the Melbourne’s mess deck. Nearly half of the benches were already empty. Jay’s squadron was seated at a table near the entrance so they could be the first pilots out in the case of an attack. Not that they were expecting an attack to occur this far from hostile territory. In the past, enemy forces had always seemed reluctant to venture this far out from their homeworld. But things were different now since the loss of Trafalgar. There was too much risk anymore to assume that the enemy would stick to their usual behavior. So the fleet was on standby, as ordered by the admiral, for rapid response in the event of an intrusion.
Jay yawned and pushed his tray aside, having just finished the last few bites of his food. “Why does eating always make me drowsy?” he said.
Thomas speared a few green bean segments with his fork and examined them briefly as he pondered Jay’s question. “It’s not that eating makes you drowsy,” he said. “It’s just that the food we eat is so boring. I swear if I ever make it back to Earth, I’ll never eat another green bean again.”
“That makes two of us,” Angelo said. “Where do they get all these beans anyway? They must have a warehouse the size of a planet with nothing but racks full of canned green beans.”
Jason pushed some of the beans around his plate as he pondered Angelo’s observation. “There’s just one problem with that theory,” he said. “The green beans we’ve been eating aren’t canned.”
Angelo snickered and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Frozen or canned, I’m sick to death of them either way.”
“But I don’t think they’re frozen, either,” Jason said.