by Linn Schwab
“No, it’s just sitting there.”
Delia turned to Jennifer. “Open tubes three and four,” she said. “Make sure they’re loaded and ready to go.”
Jordan looked at her in surprise. “You’re gonna try to hit a destroyer with torpedoes?”
Delia shrugged. “If they don’t see us coming, maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Jennifer reached for the bank of switches. “Tubes three and four are ready,” she said.
“Stand by,” Delia told her, then focused her eyes through the forward windows.
“We should be able to see it soon,” Cora said.
Seconds later a single destroyer appeared in the distance. It wasn’t the ship they were searching for, though, as this one was Sentinel gray in color.
The crew relaxed as they drifted closer. “It’s the Guppy,” Tammy announced as soon as she was close enough to read the ship’s name.
“Our missing patrol ship,” Delia said. “Let’s see if she met the same fate as the Kiwi.”
As the Calypso drifted ever closer, Delia’s suspicions appeared to be confirmed. The Guppy’s hull was jagged and torn with scores of closely spaced bullet holes. She closed her eyes for just an instant, in sympathy for the Guppy’s crew. When she opened them again, the Guppy appeared to be erupting as a firestorm of bullets emerged from its hull. The enemy ship had been lying in wait, using the Guppy as strategic cover, and was firing and pushing its way through the wreckage to bring its guns to bear on the Calypso.
Is this the end for us? Delia wondered, fully expecting to die then and there. But Emily’s instincts kicked into action and deprived the attacker of a quick and easy kill. The Calypso ducked out of the oncoming bullets, and sped away from her assailant on a spiraling course that made her extremely difficult to target.
With the sound of the emergency seal hissing in her ears, Delia quickly analyzed the situation. Though the bridge had been pierced by a dozen or more bullets, her crew all appeared to be unharmed, and were still at their positions awaiting her orders. “Are they coming after us?” she asked.
Cora checked her instruments and said, “Yes!”
“Should I call the Hornets now?” Audrey asked.
The others all turned to her and screamed, “Yes!”
Delia glanced up at the rear view monitor and studied the enemy ship’s movements. “What is their current distance?” she asked.
Cora checked the readout and said, “Two hundred fourteen meters and closing!”
“Smokescreen?” Jordan asked, reaching for the switch.
“No!” Delia insisted. “If we lose them, we’ll just have to find them again! How far away are the Hornets, Audrey?”
“I don’t know! I can’t get them to answer!”
Delia looked out at the field of rocks and wondered if they might be interfering with the signal. It looked to her as if they were far too scattered to block the Calypso’s radio transmissions. “Keep trying,” she said. “They should be reading us. Let me know as soon as you hear anything.”
“Two hundred meters and closing!” Cora reported.
“Emily,” Delia said, “they’re still getting closer. Do you think you can hold them off a while longer?”
“You said you didn’t want to lose them,” she argued. “I’m just trying to make sure they don’t give up.”
“Well don’t let them get too close,” Delia said. “Are you sure we left enough weight behind?”
Emily gave a slight tug on the yoke to see how the ship responded to her inputs. In an effort to make the Calypso more agile, they’d left the majority of their torpedoes on Orion, along with anything else they could spare. The ship felt light as a feather now. “I think we’ll be alright,” she said. “If I make it look too easy, though, they might get suspicious and stop chasing us.”
Delia nodded and said, “You’re right. We should do something to make it look like we’re desperate.”
A sudden wave of bullets engulfed the Calypso, causing Emily to struggle with the flight controls. “Okay, now we’re in trouble!” she said. “It feels like we’re losing the starboard engine!”
“Deploy smokescreen!” Delia ordered, deciding it was time to abandon her plan.
Jordan pressed the button, but nothing happened. “It isn’t working!” she said. “It must’ve been damaged!”
“One hundred eighty six meters and closing!”
Delia looked around at her crew as if hoping one of them might have a suggestion. With her engines damaged and her smokescreen inoperable, the Calypso was in serious danger now. As the enemy ship continued to advance, Emily was slaloming between asteroids in an effort to keep them from closing the distance. As they rounded one of the larger rocks, Delia suddenly had an idea. “Stand by on the starboard rocket batteries!” she ordered.
“Standing by!” Jennifer responded.
“Emily, head for that large asteroid at ten o’clock, and take us close in around the left side!”
“Affirmative!” Emily answered, and pulled the Calypso around to her left. The enemy ship changed course as well, though couldn’t quite bring her weapons to bear yet.
“Steady!” Delia said, keeping her eyes on the enemy’s progress. When the Calypso veered in close to the asteroid, she glanced at Jennifer and yelled, “Fire!”
The starboard rocket batteries roared, unleashing their warheads on the unsuspecting rock. Chunks of the surface broke away in the explosion and hurled themselves into the enemy ship’s path, forcing a momentary break in the pursuit.
“Yea!” Delia’s crew cheered when the asteroid’s debris crashed into their pursuer.
Jordan zoomed the surveillance scope in on them. “That hurt them!” she said. “They’re just sitting there! They must be banged up pretty good!”
“Pull us around, Emily!” Delia said. “Let’s see if we can get a shot off at them!”
Before the Calypso could turn around, though, the enemy vessel was moving again, sorting its way through the chunks of rock to close in once again on its prey.
“Strike that!” Delia said. “Get us out of here!”
Emily resumed her slalom through the rocks. “Bet they won’t fall for that one again,” she said.
“It might make them more cautious, though,” Delia observed.
Another wave of bullets just missed the Calypso.
“I guess they aren’t ready to give up yet,” Audrey said.
“Where are those Hornets?” Delia asked her.
“I don’t know. They still aren’t responding.”
“Tammy, is there anything on the radar?”
“I can’t tell. There’s too many rocks around us.”
“Two hundred meters and closing!” Cora said. “They’re coming at us a whole lot faster this time!”
Delia looked at Emily, but it was obvious she was doing everything she could to keep the enemy ship at bay. The Calypso’s end was only seconds away unless she could think of another tactic. We still have the port side rockets, she told herself. But if we turn our side toward them, they’ll get an easy shot at us. She weighed the pros and cons for a moment, then decided it was a risk she had to take. They’re going to kill us either way, she realized. But this way, maybe we can take them with us.
With the enemy ship drawing closer by the second, Delia decided it was now or never. “Stand by on the port rocket batteries!” she ordered. “Prepare for one quarter spin to port!”
The other girls immediately knew what she was thinking, and it was clear from their expressions that they understood the consequences. Emily reached for the stabilizer switch and readied herself to perform the maneuver.
“I’m sorry,” Delia said to her crew. “We’ve run out of options. We have to try this, and just hope we can take them down with us.” But when she opened her mouth to issue the order, she noticed something through the forward windows. A cascade of flashes off in the distance. Someone was firing rockets at her.
Realizing she’d already run out of time,
she stood there in silence as the rockets approached, resigned to the fact that her mission had failed. Instinctively, she braced herself for impact, and waited for the impending barrage of detonations. As if offering a final glorious salute, Valhalla’s sun broke through the scattered asteroids and ringed the Calypso in a circle of light. In a flash, it was over. Delia was stunned. Not one of the rockets had struck the Calypso. They’d whisked around her on both sides, overtop and underneath, and pummeled the enemy destroyer instead, leaving nothing but a shredded, smoldering shell. In the seconds that followed, she heard a voice on the intercom that sounded very much like Captain McNeil.
“Sorry we’re late,” Jenny said. “It’s easy to get turned around in here.”
ILLUMINATIONS 090
The work load had taken its toll on Genevieve, causing her to sleep several hours longer than she’d meant to. When she awoke and looked at the clock, she groaned. The station was still in need of repairs. This was not a good time for her to oversleep.
After rolling out of bed, she pulled on her uniform and headed straight to her office in the hangar. When she arrived, she found two of her assistants discussing a list of damaged systems.
“Ah, good morning,” Brandi greeted her.
“Why didn’t you wake me,” Genevieve complained.
“You needed to rest,” Chelsea insisted. “You’ve been working nonstop since this station was hit. No one expects you to fix everything. And besides, we’ve already finished repairs on everything that doesn’t require new components. There’s nothing much left to do anyway until our replacement parts start arriving.”
Genevieve glanced around at the hangar and noticed it was quiet and empty at the moment. “Where are all the others?” she asked. There was always work to be done in the hangar, even if it wasn’t critically important.
“They’re outside in spacesuits,” Brandi explained, “deciding which hull plates need to be replaced. It looks like about four percent of the hull was damaged as a result of that collision.”
Genevieve nodded and relaxed a little, relieved to find things had gone smoothly in her absence. “Well,” she said, “it looks like I didn’t have to worry after all. Are you sure there isn’t anything left on that list that still hasn’t been addressed yet?”
Brandi looked at the list of problems reported by the latest systems check. “There appears to be some sort of power fluctuation occurring down on the lower levels. Might be a faulty transformer,” she said. “I’ll head down there and have a look at it.” She reached for a nearby scanning device.
“No, you won’t,” Genevieve said, and snatched the scanner out of Brandi’s hands. “I’ll take care of it. It’s your turn to rest.” She gestured toward the list of repairs on her desk. “Nice work, both of you. Now go get some sleep. I think we’ve all earned a few extra hours.”
Brandi and Chelsea headed for their quarters as Genevieve made for the access tunnels. In the dingy depths of the station’s interior, she summoned a repair lift and awaited its arrival. When it stopped on her level, she rode it downward, scanning for power fluctuations on the way. On the lowest level, she stepped off the lift, and wandered through the corridors searching for the problem. Holding the scanner out in front of her, she followed the directional readings on its viewscreen and soon found herself at the faulty component. Yup, she thought, just as Brandi suspected. Bad transformer. It’ll have to be replaced. She pulled out her archive interface, and made a note of the transformer’s serial number.
As she headed back to the maintenance lift, she caught a glimpse of light through an open doorway, and stopped to take a closer look at the source. A large glass circle at the center of the room was aglow with a magnified image of Valhalla. The map room Captain Starling was asking about. Even though she’d seen the lens several times before, it was still an impressive sight to behold. It looked very much like a solid piece of glass, though at more than twenty meters across, that seemed somewhat unlikely to her. Perhaps it’s made up of segments, she reasoned. There may be seams that are difficult to see. Realizing she still had the scanner in her hand, she decided this might be an opportune time to see if she could learn how the map device worked. “Let’s see what makes you tick,” she said, and cautiously walked toward the center of the room.
The view down below made Genevieve dizzy, causing her to test and retest her balance. This glass is strong enough to hold me, she assured herself, but struggled to overcome the doubts in her mind. When she reached the center, she crouched down to the floor, and positioned the scanner near the surface of the lens.
“Analyze properties,” she instructed.
The scanner emitted a series of beeps, and displayed a brief list of results on its viewscreen:
silicon dioxide
aluminum
zinc
boron
electromagnetic radiation
bioluminescence
“Bioluminescence!” she exclaimed in surprise. “That can’t be right. This isn’t a lifeform, it’s just a piece of glass.” Perplexed, she ran the analysis again. The scanner came up with the same results.
“This can’t be right,” she mumbled to herself. “How can glass be bioluminescent?” Looking down at the surface of the planet below her, she wondered if the scanner might be picking up traces of bioluminescence from creatures on Valhalla. Perhaps the lens was able to amplify their light enough that the scanner could detect it even from such a great distance.
“Show me the source of bioluminescence,” she ordered.
The scanner let out an audible beep, and the viewscreen filled with a solid glow, which suggested the lens itself was the source. Convinced this couldn’t possibly be correct, she aimed the scanner at a nearby wall to see how the absence of light would affect it. The glow on the viewscreen faded to darkness. Looks like the lens is the source, she decided. But just before she turned her eyes from the scanner, a speck of light drifted across the darkened screen, like a snowflake floating on a gentle breeze. A glowing piece of dust? she wondered. The scanner insisted it was bioluminescent. It wasn’t something she could see with the naked eye, though. Only the scanner was sensitive enough to detect it.
“Zoom out fifty percent,” she ordered, determined to see if she could track it down again. She held the scanner up to eye level and slowly panned along the wall. To her surprise, she saw dozens of tiny points of light wafting on the gentle air currents in the room. When she tracked their movements, there appeared to be a pattern. They were all being slowly drawn toward the lens.
This is incredible! she thought, deciding to trace the glowing specks to their source. As she moved about the room trying to backtrack their movements, her left arm inadvertently passed in front of the scanner, resulting in a brief flash of light on the viewscreen. She froze and stared at the scanner’s readings while holding it directly over her arm. The image left her stunned. Her forearm was glowing. Her skin possessed a faint amount of bioluminescence.
“How can this be?” she wondered out loud, but her instincts were already hinting at the truth. It wasn’t specks of dust that were bioluminescent. Nor was it her skin. It had to be the virus.
With this shocking revelation now whirling through her thoughts, she rushed to the nearest ventilation shaft and examined the flow of air with her scanner. The viewscreen immediately confirmed her suspicion. The glowing particles were indeed moving through the air shafts. They were also drifting in through the open doorway. In fact everywhere she looked she discovered more particles, floating about freely in the station’s atmosphere. As to where they came from, the answer was obvious. They came from the Sentinels who were stationed on Volaris — exhaled from their bodies during normal respiration.
We breathe them into the air, she realized. And they just drift about through the station’s interior. But why were they being drawn to the lens? Could it be that they were trying to leave Volaris? Were they compelled to reunite with their kindred on Valhalla? And what sort of attractive force was at w
ork here? Was something on the planet calling to them? Perplexed, she returned to the center of the lens and made several more attempts to analyze its structure.
While the handheld scanner gave her no firm answers, a theory began to take shape in her mind, based in part on something she was feeling inside. There was no longer any doubt in her mind that the lens was amplifying some sort of signal. She could literally feel its beguiling effects. The form of energy being used remained a mystery, though. Her scanner seemed oblivious to its existence, only picking up a weak electric current. I need more sensitive equipment, she decided, and left the map room to return to the hangar.
* * * *
Robin looked across the table at Sheri and sensed she was holding something back. The two of them were sitting in the cafeteria together while the other girls completed their morning exercises. For her part, Robin felt strong enough now to run through a couple of battleship laps. But Major Richards had given strict orders to Sheri that she wasn’t to engage in any strenuous activities. And since Robin wanted some time alone with her, she decided to skip the morning workout as well, to see if she could pry any secrets out of Sheri. Her instincts kept telling her something was wrong. “There’s something you aren’t telling me,” she said.
“What makes you say that?” Sheri asked.
“Because, I know you,” Robin insisted.
Sheri sighed and gazed down at the tabletop. “They told me I’ll never be a pilot,” she confessed.
Robin was stunned. “What do you mean? Who told you that?”
“The doctors told me. The ones on Cumulus. They said the injury caused too much damage. They said my motor skills were affected. Not much, but enough to make a difference.”
“They must have been mistaken,” Robin said. “If they’re sure you’re never going to be a pilot, then why would they bother to send you back here?”
“They told me I could finish the training,” Sheri said. “And then they’ll find something else for me to do. Maybe something on one of the bases.” She shrugged and offered up a forced smile. “Maybe a technical position on Cumulus.”