The Epherium Chronicles: Embrace

by Wilson, T. D.

  The technicians stopped in their tracks and almost dropped the pipes on the floor for a second time.

  Sanchez looked at them, scowled then continued. “Get them out of here, and I want a full report on my desk by twenty-two hundred hours. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Coolidge?”

  “Crystal, sir.”

  Sanchez gave Wells the kill sign, and she terminated the comm channel. He grabbed his travel satchel and only slightly smoking jacket off the floor and quietly strode to the exit, leaving the grumbling maintenance technicians behind.

  Wells quickly moved after him. She nearly ran him over while looking over her shoulder at the now vividly disgruntled technicians. “Excuse me, sir, but was that wise? These guys tend to hold grudges.”

  Sanchez exited the docking bay, dropped his bag and jacket, and turned to the young lieutenant. “Lieutenant Wells, if you haven’t guessed, I’m not easily impressed, and that level of undisciplined incompetence is unacceptable. I realize that they’re civilians, but this is a military vessel. Recklessness puts lives at risk. When we become fully operational, we need to be efficient and disciplined. The message has to start somewhere, and it’s best that it starts now. I know you may think this makes me a hard ass, but experience in this area has taught me some hard lessons.”

  “Point taken and understood, sir,” Wells replied. “I was merely concerned with the repercussions that may result from some of the maintenance personnel. There is a lot of work to be done, and angry sentiments tend to spread and cause problems. These workers tend to be a tight knit group. Driving a wedge can’t be good.”

  “I am aware of that, Lieutenant, and that is why I asked Mr. Coolidge to address the issue and file the report. I want it fully documented when I speak to those men’s superior tomorrow morning. I don’t want them fired, Lieutenant, but I do want to set an example.” Sanchez relaxed his tone. “I know you are not a person prone to conflict, Lieutenant Wells. I read your file. Excellent translator and linguist, but you’ve always shied away from situations of conflict or stressful negotiations. A slap on the back with those guys and a ‘That’s okay’ is the wrong message here. Trust me, it’ll all work out.”

  “Understood. If you don’t mind me saying, sir, it seems you know a lot about me, but I know very little about you,” Wells replied a bit nervously.

  Two incidents in the first day on the job, Sanchez thought to himself. Not a great way to give an impression. Sanchez picked up his bag again, handed his jacket to Wells and started walking toward the elevator. “Come on. Give me the nickel tour, and let me drop off my stuff. I promise I’ll answer any question you have about me, within reason, of course. After that, let’s see if the captain is back from dealing with Engineering.”

  Wells smiled at Sanchez. “I’d like that, sir.”

  The two officers moved down the hall and entered the lift. As the doors began to close, Wells had already begun to ask her questions.

  * * *

  Sanchez stepped inside Captain Hood’s quarters and quickly moved to attention. “Evening, Captain. Lieutenant Commander Sanchez reporting for duty, sir.”

  Hood got up from the seat behind his desk and moved around to meet Sanchez. “At ease, Commander.” Hood extended his hand, and Sanchez shook it firmly. “Good to see you again, Raf. It’s been awhile. Officers retreat at Park City, Utah, wasn’t it?”

  Sanchez relaxed a bit. “That’s right, sir. It was February, and we got in some good skiing that week after the meetings.”

  “You got some good skiing, my butt was sore for a week. I landed hard twice and got tired of picking myself up.” Hood laughed. “Take a seat, let’s catch up.”

  Sanchez and Hood both sat down at the desk opposite one another. Hood adjusted his chair and folded his arms in front of him. “So, how is that old dog, Styles, these days?”

  “He’s doing well, sir, and he sends his regards. He also told me to pass along his sentiment that you owe him for stealing away his XO.”

  “I figured he would say that. He just wants me to have my cousin send him another bottle of wine from his vineyard,” Hood replied.

  “I noticed he was some type of wine connoisseur, but I didn’t realize you were his supplier.”

  “I took him to my cousin’s vineyard while we were on leave from the academy, and he got hooked. He really liked the Merlot they made. Ever since that day, he asks me to get him a few bottles.”

  “He offered me some once. I’m not a big wine drinker, but it was bold and flavorful. It went well with that rehydrated steak that we had for dinner.” Sanchez laughed.

  Hood nodded in agreement then leaned back into his seat. “So I hear you had some fun in the docking bay when you arrived.”

  “Some safety and discipline issues, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Lieutenant Wells was there when the incident occurred, and we were able to avoid a potential serious situation. I have a meeting tomorrow with the supervisor of the men involved, and the issue will be put to rest.”

  “I doubt I would have done much different. We will be on our own for much of our first mission, and we have to avoid incidents like that.” Hood changed the subject. “What did Command tell you about the mission?”

  “I was told that it was a deep space mission of extreme importance, and that we would be briefed when I got on board. I figured that we’d be headed to reinforce the efforts at Barnard’s Star.”

  Hood pulled a data storage card from his desk and slid it across to Sanchez. “No, Raf. We’re headed in a different direction. How much do you know about the Epherium Three colony ships?”

  “Only what I learned in the academy. They launched nearly twenty five years ago and headed out to colonize near Earthlike worlds. Is that what we’re doing?”

  “Read the mission file, and I want you to set up a mission briefing for the Command staff and crew. We have a lot of things to finalize, and I want to make sure that everyone understands the goals and risks.”

  “Understood. Hey, I heard that you got Terrance Whitaker to be Chief Engineer. Is he onboard yet?”

  “He arrived this morning and has already started working on the particle cannon integration. The man is a genius, but like most R&D guys I have met, he talks too much.” Hood chuckled. “He mentioned some new defensive system he has developed that involved our space-fold drive. He wants me to meet with him tomorrow to discuss it.” Hood pointed to his new XO. “I think that would be an excellent time for you two to meet and get to know each other. I need a good liaison to the Engineering team, and I think you fit it nicely.”

  Sanchez nodded. “Okay, I admit it. I can speak ‘techie,’ and I understand a lot of those systems.”

  “Glad we have an understanding, Commander.” Hood smiled smugly. “Now, it’s going to get crowded around here soon. More than it already is. We still have some more of our Command staff arriving in the next few days, more of our pilots, and add to that, two full brigades of marines.”

  “Two brigades?” Sanchez asked incredulously. “Are we marching off to war or what, sir?”

  “It’s all in the file, Commander. Get settled in, and immerse yourself in it. We can talk more in the morning. I want your unbiased perspective when we talk again.”

  “Very well, sir,” Sanchez answered as he picked up the file and stood. “I hear that we are getting some Epherium corporate types to tag along for awhile. Are they here yet?”

  “Mr. McCraken and his group are due to arrive tomorrow night I’m told. But don’t worry, I think you have your hands full enough, Commander. They are my cross to bear.” Hood stood from his chair and moved over to the door. Sanchez followed him, and the two shook hands. “Oh, one more thing,” Hood reached into his jacket pocket, removed a small pouch, and held out for Sanchez to take. “Congratulations. Your promotion to commander came through.”

  Somewhat surprised, Sanche
z accepted the pouch with his new rank insignia gratefully. “I wasn’t up for promotion for another six months.”

  “Admiral Tramp pulled some strings to hammer it through. Regardless of the timing, Raf, you deserve it. Welcome aboard,” Hood said with a congratulatory smile.

  Sanchez grasped the pouch firmly in his hand and shook it in front of his face with a growing sense of pride. “Thank you, Captain.” With that, he spun on his heel and walked down the hall to his own quarters, all the while fumbling with the pouch trying to get it open.

  Hood moved back into his quarters, removed his coat and hung it in its place in his closet. The day was more than halfway over, but to him it felt like time had been stretched to make the minutes feel like hours. Rubbing his eyes, he walked slowly back over to the desk, sat down, and opened the lower drawer.

  Hood removed two more data storage cards from the drawer and sat them on the desk along with his data pad. The first one was marked “EEF Confidential: Epherium Colonization Effort.” Hood plugged into his desk’s computer terminal and began to open the files. The first file contained detailed schematics of the Epherium colony ships and their proposed flight plans to their intended destinations. The colony ships were to drop beacons along their journey, each equipped with high powered transmitters. They were the ships’ life line back to Earth. Hood checked the proposed drop locations. The distances between them were just inside the Armstrong’s jump range. He was confident he could use them. Epherium’s accelerator gates had increased their velocity close to the speed of light, but it still didn’t keep them from a long journey in a sleeper ship. Now his ship could reach them in days, not years.

  At the end of the file were personnel records of each of the command crews. Hood keyed through the record listing until he got to his uncle’s. He opened it and stared at the profile picture. He slowly glanced over at the mirror near his bed then back at the picture. They both shared that famous Hood jaw line. He remembered that his dad had told him that it was sign of fortitude, not a brand of sophistication. His older brother always said it was what made him a chick magnet. His uncle once told him that he felt like one of the pioneers from the early 1800s in America setting out across the plains to settle an untamed land. Looking back on it, Hood believed he was right.

  He moved on from his uncle’s file to the Magellan’s XO, Jillian Howard. The picture on the first page of her record didn’t do her justice, Hood thought. Her strawberry blond hair was tied back, and her green eyes were masked by the slight shadows created by the flash when the picture was taken. Hood pictured her in her EEF flight suit working on systems before their voyage began, and he smiled. He had spent nearly twenty-five years comparing other women to her, but none had come close to the bar she had set in his mind.

  Hood pursed his lips, closed the file and pulled over the second data storage card. This one was titled “Engagement Assessments.” He removed the first data card from his terminal and replaced it with this one.

  The files on the card contained various memos, notes and diagrams of every Cilik’ti engagement that Hood had ever been a part of. Slowly, he began to sort the files into distinct groups on his terminal screen and pulled his data pad over to reference a different set of data.

  Hood paused and pictured the images of his uncle and Jillian in his mind. The EEF sent them out into the black without knowing what lay out there. Hood knew what could await his ship when they arrived, and like all good tacticians, he would be properly armed for whatever they faced. He tapped his fingers on the table then turned back to his terminal. Sanchez wasn’t the only one with a long night ahead of him.

  Chapter Six

  EDF Armstrong

  Friday, January 17

  Earth Year 2155

  Hood and Sanchez exited the elevator lift and entered the port fighter docking bay corridor. Both men had just left the officers’ mess and were still carrying covered ceramic cups that slowly leaked steam from the hot coffee inside.

  Breakfast on board EDF military vessels consisted of the usual: reconstituted eggs, potatoes and protein enriched foods like oatmeal. The new Dreadnaughts, however, offered enhanced storage units that provided the capability for longer term storage of perishables, particularly fruits and vegetables.

  Commander Sanchez’s mind continued to fade back to the helping of fresh cantaloupe he’d consumed only twenty minutes earlier. The fresh sweet taste of the fruit was something he had missed over the last two years, and he hoped welcome surprises like that would continue.

  He looked at Captain Hood as they walked together, and he could see that his new CO seemed tense this morning. Almost as if something other than their upcoming meeting was on his mind, but his gaze never wavered from the individual that was waiting for them down the corridor.

  Leaning against the wall was a short, stocky and slightly overweight red-haired man in a pilot’s jumpsuit. The man was slowly flipping through an open container stacked on the side of the corridor. Once he noticed the two officers, he immediately stopped and moved to meet them.

  “Captain Hood, good to see you, sir,” the man said, standing in a slightly irregular form of attention.

  “At ease,” Hood replied and turned to Sanchez. “Raf, this is Lieutenant Commander Hugh Walsh, our new air boss.”

  Sanchez put out his hand, and Walsh took it in a firm handshake. Sanchez noticed a tattoo on the man’s hand in the shape of Texas with a large five pointed star in the panhandle. “Nice to finally meet you in person, Lieutenant Commander.” Sanchez pointed to the tattoo. “I still have friends living in Amarillo, did you grow up there?”

  “Close, sir,” Walsh replied as his accent seemed to become more noticeable. “Lubbock. Born and raised.”

  “I had heard a lot about you and your work with pilots on the Vincennes. Your record there was very impressive.”

  “Thank you, sir. Somebody has to keep those college punks in line.”

  “Excuse me?” Sanchez sounded slightly intrigued.

  “You know, sir, all these academy brats we have flying our high priced hardware,” Walsh said frankly.

  Sanchez had to hold back a chuckle. “Sounds like you have a slight grudge against them, Mr. Walsh.”

  “Hell no, sir. I’m merely looking after their safety and my spacecraft. Most pilots I get don’t have an ounce of respect for the responsibility they’ve been given. Only once they crash or nearly crash, do they get a clue.” Walsh began walking back toward the door marked “Pilot Ready Area. “Let me show you what I mean, sirs.”

  Walsh opened the door for the two officers, and all three entered a room set up almost like a small theater. A large view screen was located on the back wall with a podium. Several swivel style seats with small attached desks were set in a rectangle in the center of the room.

  Through a door on the right side of the room marked “Training,” Hood could hear two people shouting at one another. The sounds grew louder until the two young pilots, a tall blond man and a much shorter woman with raven hair burst through the door and into the Ready Room.

  “Captain on Deck!” Walsh bellowed.

  Both pilots immediately stopped their conversation and snapped to attention facing Walsh.

  Walsh turned to Hood. “You see what I mean, sir. And these two are the best pilots of the bunch.”

  “That’s enough, Mr. Walsh,” Hood said, as he walked past his new Air Boss, moved closer to the pilots and dressed them down with a stare that could melt stone. Hood stopped and turned his head to Walsh. “I need you to encourage them, get them ready and rein them in when they get too far out. These ‘college punks’ as you call them, Mr. Walsh, are our eyes, ears and fists. They gather intel, fend off our enemies and deliver precision strikes on critical targets some of our gunners here could only dream about.” He pointed toward the two pilots. “They’re our lifeblood out there, and they must understand that
they have our full confidence. Pushing it to the edge is what fighter pilots do, but we must help them define that limit. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Walsh?”

  “Crystal, sir!” Walsh shouted in compliance.

  “Good,” Hood said and he turned back to the pilots. “So, who am I talking to?”

  The male saluted Hood as he answered with a slight German accent, “Lieutenant Harrison Krieg, sir. Call sign Wolfhound.”

  Hood saluted Kreig, and the woman snapped her own. “Ensign First Class Emma Thielson, sir. Call sign Reaper.”

  Trying not to act impressed, Hood returned Thielson’s salute as well. “Mr. Walsh says you’re two of the best pilots that will be assigned to this ship.”

  Kreig spoke up immediately. “We are the best, sir, no doubt.”

  “Really, Lieutenant,” Hood replied with a skeptical tone. “Okay then. What training scenario did you just run?”

  “Blind op 7-1 in an asteroid field, sir,” Krieg replied. “We just recently added it to the new Stingray fighter training protocol for one-on-one combat.”

  Hood paused for a moment and then looked down at Ensign Thielson. “How long?”

  “Sir?”

  “How long were you in the mission before you acquired a lock on your opponent, Ensign?”

  Thielson shook her head. “I’m not sure. Thirty seconds, maybe?”

  Hood looked from Thielson and then to Krieg. “You’re both dead. Do it again.”

  “What?” Thielson blurted out. “I mean, excuse me, sir. How could we have both lost?”

  Clearly annoyed, Hood crossed his arms and stared hard at the young woman. “Ensign, do it again and find out. And this time, use your eyes to find all adversaries, not just the ones you know.”

  After both pilots nodded their compliance with his orders Hood turned on his heel and headed toward the exit. “Have them repeat it until they understand, Mr. Walsh. I want all squadron members through that scenario before we leave.”