Linkage (The Narrows of Time Series Book 1)

by Jay J. Falconer

  “Minor injuries on Deck Twelve, but engineering reports all systems operational,” Nellis said, before she entered additional commands into her console. “Shields at ninety-two percent.”

  “Maintain course and speed. Sound general quarters. All decks,” Kleezebee said.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, glancing at Bruno for a second.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, Helmsman Heller turned in his chair, making eye contact with Bruno. “Entering Neethian System, Commander.”

  Bruno turned his focus to the Captain. “Orders, sir?”

  “Slow to sub-light,” Kleezebee said.

  “The origin of the shockwave is Neethian-6, an L-class planet. We’re in visual range,” Nellis said as the whine of the ship’s engines changed their pitch, indicating sub-light speed had been achieved.

  “On screen and magnify,” the captain said, standing from his command chair.

  The bridge’s twenty-foot viewscreen showed floating hunks of rock and rubble loosely assembled in a spherical shape. Other than a few dozen pinpoints of starlight scattered across the background, nothing else was in view.

  “It appears the debris cloud is all that’s left of the planet. Sensors are picking up substantial amounts of charged ididium-236 radiation, suggesting a massive detonation,” Nellis reported.

  “Didn’t we just fire up a refinery on Neethian-6?” Bruno asked Nellis.

  “Yes, two months ago. The engineers finally developed a method to safely extract the volatile ididium deposits,” she replied.

  “Someone must have lit a match,” Heller said from the helm.

  “This is going to severely cripple our E-121 production,” Bruno said.

  “Captain, I’m detecting a series of subspace distortions in and around the debris field. They appear to be localized fractures in space-time and they’re drifting in space like icebergs,” Nellis reported.

  “Sir, if one of them comes in contact with the engine core, it will cause a breach in containment,” Bruno said.

  “Plot a course around them, Mr. Heller,” Kleezebee said.

  “Acknowledged. Adjusting course to compensate.”

  “Sir, should I launch a micro-probe into one of the fractures to investigate?” Nellis asked.

  “There isn’t time. Best speed to Neethian-3,” Kleezebee said. “Bring the forward plasma cannons online.”

  Within seconds, the main viewer showed a blue-and-white planet growing larger as they got closer.

  “Approaching Neethian-3, sir,” Heller said.

  “Standard orbit, Mr. Heller.”

  “Captain, I’m not picking up any other vessels in the area,” Nellis reported.

  “Cancel tactical alert, but keep the shields up,” Kleezebee commanded. “Open a channel.”

  “Open, sir,” Communications Officer Blake replied.

  “Colony Three-Five-Nine, this is Captain Kleezebee of the science vessel Trinity. We received your distress call and are standing by in orbit to assist.”

  The bridge crew waited for a response, but none came.

  Kleezebee repeated his hail a second time. Once again, there was no response from the colony.

  “Bio-signs?” Kleezebee asked Nellis, taking a seat in his chair.

  “Scanning, sir . . . none detected.”

  “Scan the surface for trace signatures.”

  “No plant or animal life . . . no vegetation . . . no structures detected anywhere on the planet.”

  “Could our sensors be malfunctioning?”

  “Running a Level One diagnostic,” she said, hesitating before she spoke again. “Sensors are working perfectly.”

  “What about atmospheric interference?”

  She shook her head.

  “Perhaps we should send a landing party to investigate?” Bruno asked.

  “Surface conditions?” Kleezebee asked Nellis.

  “Radiation and temperature are within acceptable levels. The atmosphere is . . . breathable.”

  “Assemble a team,” Kleezebee told Bruno, nodding sharply.

  Bruno hurried to the jump pad. “Lieutenant Nellis, you’re with me. Mr. Blake, have Dr. McKnight and a security detail meet us in Jump Bay Two.”

  Bruno stopped in Outfitting on his way to the jump bay, changing out of his uniform and into his desert fatigues. He was looking forward to the Trinity’s first official away mission, something a science vessel rarely had the opportunity to do.

  * * *

  Bruno transported down to Colony Three-Five-Nine with six other members of the crew, and found himself standing in the middle of a vast, barren wasteland. It was perfectly flat and stretched off to the horizon.

  His eyes scanned the area, but all he could see was a deep, charcoal black color in every direction. The planet’s surface was completely devoid of features, as if it had been flattened and then scorched by a blowtorch of unimaginable size.

  The four security officers fanned out and stood guard around the landing site, with their backs to Bruno, Dr. McKnight, and Lt. Nellis.

  “Are we in the right place?” the elderly Dr. McKnight asked, repositioning his medical satchel over his right shoulder.

  “We’re standing in what should be the center of a thriving settlement,” Nellis said.

  “Not anymore,” the doc said.

  “I thought the colony was surrounded by a mountain range,” Bruno said to Nellis.

  “It was,” she answered. “I’m not sure what happened here.”

  “Well then, there goes the curb appeal,” McKnight said with a smirk on his face.

  Bruno knelt down and scooped up a handful of the black soot covering the entire area. He rubbed the powdery substance between his fingers. “What is this stuff?”

  Nellis tested a sample with her handheld M-Spec scanner. “I’m not detecting any organic or chemical compounds whatsoever. It’s as if this powder isn’t there.”

  Bruno raised his fingers to his nose and took a whiff. “How is that possible?”

  “Unknown, sir,” she replied, putting a sample of the material into a travel container.

  “Scan the area for life signs,” Bruno told her before blowing the powder off his finger tips.

  She adjusted her scanner’s settings, then held the device up while slowly turning in a circle. “Other than the seven of us, I’m not detecting anything organic within a two-hundred kilometer radius.”

  “Nothing?” McKnight asked.

  She shook her head. “Affirmative. I’m not reading any plant or animal life.”

  “What about chemical signatures?” Bruno asked.

  “None, sir.”

  “Could something natural have caused this?”

  “Unlikely. There would be some form of trace evidence.”

  “Then it must be some type of attack.”

  “It’s possible; however, I’m not detecting any residual power signatures or elevated radiation.”

  “Is it those damn bugs?” McKnight asked Bruno, eyes wide. “We’re practically in their backyard.”

  “If it is the Krellians, they’ve got some new type of weapon we haven’t seen before. Something capable of leveling entire planets, topography and all.”

  “I knew I should’ve packed more than a gallon of Extermin8,” McKnight said.

  “We should report this to the captain,” Nellis said.

  Bruno nodded, activating the communications device on his wrist. “Bruno to Trinity.”

  “Go ahead,” Kleezebee replied from the bridge.

  “Sir, there’s no sign of the colony. It’s just—gone, and I mean completely. So are the residents.”

  “What do you mean, gone?”

  “I mean everything has been obliterated, like it was never here in the first place. Even the mountain ranges have been leveled.”

  “Did you run scans for life signs?”

  “Yes, sir. However, they came up empty. There’s absolutely nothing organic within a two-hundred kilometer radius, including plant and anima
l life. All we see is some type of black film covering the entire surface. We suspect it might be some new type of Krellian attack, though we can’t detect any residual energy signature. If this is some type of weapon, it’s something completely new, sir.”

  Bruno waited, but Kleezebee didn’t answer.

  “Sir? Did you receive my last transmission?” he asked, waiting again for his commander to respond.

  Fifteen seconds later, Kleezebee answered. However, this time his voice was charged with energy. “Collect your team and return to the ship. On the double.”

  “Aye, sir. On our way.”

  * * *

  After transporting back to the ship, Bruno changed back into his uniform before returning to his post on the bridge. When he stepped off the jump pad, he wished he’d arrived a minute sooner. He didn’t know what he’d just walked into, but whatever it was, it had everyone on edge.

  “Shields at maximum. Weapons hot,” Nellis reported.

  “Stay alert, people,” Kleezebee said, looking over his shoulder at Bruno. Kleezebee’s eyes were dark and intense, telling Bruno to man his position at the tactical station.

  “Mr. Blake, send a data burst to Fleet with today’s mission log,” Kleezebee said.

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “I’m picking up a buildup in tachyon particles, two hundred thousand meters off the port bow,” Nellis reported.

  “On viewer.”

  The screen changed to show a patch of stars oscillating as if they were being viewed through the bottom of a glass boat. Moments later, the same area of space began to change, fading in an enormous hive ship, at least a thousand times the size of the Trinity. It looked like a giant honeycomb with hundreds of identical octagon cells, each roughly the size of the Trinity. A web of yellow energy connected the eight sides of each green-colored cell with its neighbor.

  “Sir, that’s a Krellian destroyer, and she’s on an intercept course,” Nellis said.

  “Hail them,” Kleezebee said.

  “No response, sir,” Blake said a few seconds later.

  The Krellian ship began to split apart, splintering into dozens of smaller cell groupings. Each cell group moved away from the others, working themselves into flanking positions around the Trinity.

  “Captain, someone’s tapped into our main computer . . . they’re accessing our data core,” Nellis said.

  “Can you shut them out?”

  “Attempting to isolate the core and encrypt the network interface—” Nellis said, working her controls feverously. “Got it!”

  “How much did they get?”

  “A hundred percent of the medical and historical databases, but it looks like we stopped them before they downloaded our tactical and scientific data banks.”

  “They’re charging weapons!” Bruno reported, activating the tactical alert siren from his console.

  “Which one?” Kleezebee asked.

  “All of them, sir.”

  “Evasive maneuvers!”

  The enemy ships opened fire, sending a barrage of blue energy bursts streaming at the port side of Trinity’s bow. The ship rocked hard to starboard when they made impact.

  “Minor damage on Deck Twelve. Shields down to sixty-two percent,” Nellis said. “Looks like they’re targeting engineering.”

  “Return fire, full spread.”

  The forward battery of plasma cannons discharged, sending a torrent of energy pulses at the advancing enemy ships, striking several of them center mass.

  “Multiple hits,” Bruno said.

  “Minor fluctuation in their power grids, but no detectable damage, sir,” Nellis said.

  The Krellian swarm fired a second volley, hammering the Trinity with even more force than before. Blake’s communication console erupted into fire, searing his left hand and wrist. He screamed in pain.

  “Medical team to the bridge,” Kleezebee shouted.

  “Sick bay’s not responding, sir,” Nellis replied a few moments later.

  Several more salvos hit the ship, each time jolting the ship farther off course.

  “Shields down to twenty-seven percent. Bulkheads buckling on Deck Twelve, Section Four,” Nellis reported.

  “Re-modulate shields, continuing firing all batteries,” Kleezebee said. “Attack pattern omega.”

  Bruno fired the forward and port cannons. “Direct hits, sir.”

  “Enemy shields still at full power,” Nellis said.

  The ship’s communication system came on. “Engineering to the captain. We’re close to losing containment down here. The reactor’s nearing critical.”

  “Captain, we have no choice but to withdraw,” Bruno said. “We can’t take any more of this pounding.”

  The ship was hit two more times. Kleezebee sat motionless in his command chair, his eyes pinched and aimed at the deck plating.

  “Captain!” Bruno shouted, trying to get his boss to act.

  “Mr. Heller, hard to starboard,” Kleezebee said after bringing his eyes to bear. “Lieutenant Nellis, activate the rift generator.”

  “But sir, it hasn’t been fully tested,” she replied.

  “We don’t have a choice. Energize it now, while we still have sufficient power. Set destination coordinates for Earth.”

  “Aye, sir,” Nellis replied, furiously entering commands into her station’s console. “Projector stream charged and online.”

  “Coordinates set for sector zero-zero-zero,” Heller said.

  A vertical energy rift began to form directly in front of the ship, resembling a crumpled white envelope being opened lengthwise in space. It grew wider and longer with each passing second, letting in bright beams of light from the other side of the rift.

  “Take us in,” Kleezebee shouted, just as the Krellians hit them with another onslaught. The bridge crew stumbled to the right, like crab fishermen battling a rising swell in the Bering Sea off the coast of Alaska.

  “Hull breach on Deck Seven, venting atmosphere,” Nellis said.

  “Entering rift,” Heller reported.

  The Trinity was walloped again.

  “Shields are down,” Nellis said.

  “Maintain course and speed,” Kleezebee said.

  “Captain, we’ve been boarded,” Nellis said.

  “Location?”

  “Deck Twelve, Engineering.”

  “They must be after our E-121 supply,” Bruno replied. “Dispatch security teams.”

  The Krellians fired again, missing the ship, but bombarding the rift’s event horizon with blue energy.

  “Their weapons are overloading the rift. It’s destabilizing,” Nellis said, right before an electrical discharge arced across the bridge between the active duty stations, knocking her, Blake, and the helmsman to the deck.

  The bolt continued through Kleezebee’s torso and pierced Bruno’s neck, completing its circuit by connecting to the power supply installed under the base of the jump pad.

  A moment later, Bruno’s eyes went dark, just as he watched Kleezebee’s body fall limp in the captain’s chair.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Kleezebee woke up slumped over in the captain’s chair. Water poured through a rupture in the bulkhead above the bridge, splashing the right side of his face. His lungs tried to gather in a deep breath of air, but a mouthful of salt water entered his mouth instead. He spit it out in a fit of coughing, ridding his tongue of the salty taste.

  A salmon-sized fish came through the crack in the ceiling, smacking his cheek before glancing off his thigh and sliding across the deck plating. It came to rest in a pool of ocean water near the communication officer’s station, flapping its fins.

  The only equipment active on the bridge was the emergency lighting system, casting a dull yellow pall over everything. All the control stations appeared to be offline, including the main viewer, which was hanging off the wall, slanting to the left. He could no longer feel the juddering pulse drive engines through the floor, meaning they were offline and the ship was now running on battery rese
rves.

  Bruno was nearby, but moving sluggishly on the deck plate. The rest of the bridge crew lay motionless near their duty stations.

  “Take it slow,” Kleezebee said, helping Bruno to his feet.

  “Do you think we made it home, Skipper?”

  “We’ll soon find out.”

  Nellis was to Kleezebee’s right, on the other side of Bruno, lying on her back with her legs twisted to one side. He could see her chest expanding and contracting, so he knew she was still alive.

  “See if you can revive the lieutenant,” Kleezebee told Bruno.

  Bruno nodded and went to Nellis.

  Kleezebee sidestepped his way around debris to the other side of bridge, where he found Officer Blake lying on his left side with his feet submerged in the water accumulating around his station. He slid Blake’s body away from the rising water level, then checked his vitals. The young man’s pulse was accelerated, possibly due to the burn injuries sustained earlier. He shook his communications officer, then rapped him on the cheek. Blake finally let out a low groan, and then opened his eyes.

  “Easy does it, Chuck; you took a pretty good jolt. How do you feel?”

  “The pain’s manageable, sir. I’ll be all right,” Blake replied, holding up his burned arm. Kleezebee helped him up. “Orders, sir?” the man asked in a weaker than normal voice.

  “Sound the emergency evacuation alarm. We need to get everyone off the ship before we’re completely under water,” Kleezebee said. “Dispatch medical teams to help the injured.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Blake replied.

  The general alarm sounded, with Stella’s computer voice telling the crew to abandon ship.

  Heller was face-down with his head and shoulders lying under a toppled station chair. Kleezebee uncovered his helmsman and rolled him over on his back, only to find Heller’s face badly disfigured from the electrical burns. “Dave, can you hear me?”

  There was no response. He checked Heller’s vitals: no pulse, no respiration. So far medical teams had been unresponsive to hails, probably busy else elsewhere he figured. He needed to do something and quick, leaving him with only one choice—old school CPR. He tilted Heller’s head back, pinched his nose and covered the officer’s mouth with his own. He blew twice into Heller’s mouth, but his chest didn’t expand. His hands went to Heller’s sternum, rapidly pushing down thirty times in succession, before blowing air into Heller’s mouth again.