by Colin Weldon
That caught Boyett’s attention. She looked up at Chavel.
“Bullshit,” Boyett retorted.
Chavel turned the flight chair sideways so that he faced both Ripley and Boyett.
“Seriously? You never heard of that?” Chavel asked.
“What’s the Delta Lightning manoeuvre?” Ripley said looking at Boyett.
“No, you did not,” Boyett said leaning forward.
Chavel opened his arms up.
“Yes, I did, check the academy files, Lieutenant. The lack of trust on this bridge is astounding,” replied Chavel.
“What’s the Delta Lightning?” Ripley asked again.
“One ... no, you did not ... and two ... I personally know all three members of the ONLY flight team to ever accomplish it. One of them being me. So, I call bullshit,” Boyett said.
Chavel sighed and looked at Ripley.
“The Delta Lightning manoeuvre involves igniting the engine coolant of a Mark two delta fighter as you pass through the upper atmosphere of Venus, while simultaneously putting the ship into a high arc spin before double backing on its course. The effect ignites the coolant and makes for a hell of a fireworks display. And yes ... I did!” Chavel said.
“Don’t listen to him, Ripley, he’s only being annoying. As usual,” Boyett said, “Not to mention the good lieutenant knows that we don’t have Academy records on board. There was no time to do a full download of all of the databases before we had to leave.”
“Well then, there’s no way to prove I didn’t now, is there?” Chavel said turning the flight chair back to the front.
“Well, it sounds impressive,” Ripley said looking at Chavel.
Boyett noted the effect that Chavel had on women and Ripley was making no effort to hide it. She took comfort in the fact that if the captain saw him flirting with someone other than his daughter he would probably find himself on the wrong side of an airlock.
“It was impressive, it really was,” Chavel said smiling to himself.
A bleeping noise interrupted them from behind Boyett.
“Sir, I have contact on my board,” Ferrate said from behind her.
She turned and looked up at him.
“Oh?” she said.
Ferrate was frowning.
“Localising,” he said.
Boyett faced forward and looked up at the view screens.
“Half a million klicks off the starboard bow. Reading solid, and headed in our direction,” Ferrate said, “I’m detecting power signatures, sir.”
He paused for a moment. There was a sudden stillness on the bridge as the doors to the rear lift opened and Barrington walked in.
“I ... I think it’s a ship,” Ferrate said.
“On screen,” Barrington said from behind Boyett.
She turned to see the captain walk in and immediately vacated the centre seat. Chavel followed suit, allowing Boyett back into her flight chair as he moved into the navigational station as Ripley moved to the rear of the bridge. The transition was seamless.
“Eh ... yes, sir,” Ferrate said looking jumpy.
Boyett entered her flight control access codes and prepped the ship for alert readiness. She looked up again at the screens overhead. There was still nothing.
“I don’t see anything,” said Barrington as he sat down.
“Confirmed, sir, I have an energy reading on my scopes as well. It’s massive. And slowing down,” said Chavel from the navigation station.
“Weapons,” Barrington ordered.
Boyett activated the cannons.
“Maybe it’s Carrie?” said Boyett from the flight chair.
“Negative, the energy signature does not correlate,” said Ferrate from the rear of the bridge.
“A Targlagdu vessel?” Barrington said.
There was a tense moment on the bridge as they continued their scans.
“Negative, sir, this is something different,” Ferrate said.
“I’m having a hard time getting a visual, sir, the nebula is interfering with the sensors,” said Chavel.
Boyett could feel the captain’s tension as they looked above their heads at the view screens. All they could see was the crimson reds and blues of the nebula.
“Charly, get ready to activate the FTL,” Barrington said from behind her.
She rubbed the palms of her hands, which had suddenly become sweaty.
“Aye, sir,” she replied beginning the light speed sequence.
“Stand by for my orders,” Barrington said, “Chavel, I need a pinpoint position on whatever it is. Lock on the view screens to any gaseous disturbance within that radius.”
“Yes, sir,” Chavel replied.
The bridge went silent. Boyett gripped the flight controls and waited. She could hear Chavel next to her at his station furiously tapping in commands into his control panel.
“Distance?” Barrington asked from behind her.
“Sir, I am getting some really strange readings here. Our sensors are being deflected back to us. I can’t get an accurate bearing on the object,” Chavel said.
Boyett could hear the captain grumble something under his breath.
“Engine room, this is the bridge,” Barrington said.
“Engine room, Tosh here,” replied Tosh.
“Get ready to fire up The Betty. We may be making a hasty exit,” Barrington said.
“Got it,” Tosh said.
The comm channel clicked off.
“I’ve got something, Captain, looks like movement off the starboard bow, locking in a visual,” Chavel said.
The view screens flickered overhead as the crew raised their heads to see. A rippling from the various gasses that made up the ancient nebula attracted their attention. Something very large was penetrating its depths. Then they saw it. Slicing through the coloured particles appeared to be what looked like a ship. It was massive. It looked to be five times the mass of The Agathon. It had an elongated hull with two enormous arms on either side that came to a point in the shape of a pyramid. There were running lights and countless windows that ran the length of it. Boyett’s mouth dropped open at the sight of the vessel creeping closer.
“Hello,” Chavel said in a surprised tone.
“Easy,” Barrington said.
Boyett suddenly felt the captain standing beside her at the flight control chair.
“What readings are you getting, David?” Barrington asked.
“Very little, sir, our sensors can’t penetrate whatever the hull is made of. If we weren’t looking at it right now, I couldn’t even tell you it was there,” Chavel said.
“Could be an escort to the planet? Another one of Jack’s ships?” Boyett said knowing that it looked nothing like Jack’s ships.
Barrington did not answer. The ship grew closer.
“Distance?” Barrington asked.
“Twelve thousand kilometres,” Chavel said.
“It’s right on top of us, sir,” Boyett said getting anxious.
She placed her hands on the FTL systems and got ready to power up the ship’s thrusters to get out of its way.
“It’s slowing,” Chavel said.
The ship was indeed slowing down. It came to an eventual stop.
“Give me the ship’s external view,” Barrington asked.
The view screens changed to an external view, which showed the top of The Agathon’s hull, now completely in shadow. The huge alien vessel had now come to a complete stop overhead. Boyett could feel the tension levels on the bridge heighten as they all looked on at the sudden arrival of the craft. There was silence. The two ships hung in space toe to toe. Looking at each other. Barrington walked slowly back to his centre seat.
“Charly,” he said calmly, “Reverse thrusters. Take us away from the vessel.”
“Eh ... ye
s, sir,” Boyett replied activating the ship’s engines.
She looked at the view screen overhead as they regressed away from the hull of the alien craft. There was a sudden slow movement from the ship as it followed them. She looked back towards the captain not having to explain what was happening.
“All stop,” Barrington said.
“Answering all stop, sir,” Boyett replied cutting the ship’s thrusters.
The alien craft stopped once again over the hull of the ship.
“Okay, so it’s clearly seen us then,” Chavel said.
“Hmm...” Barrington replied, “Any life form readings, Lieutenant?”
Chavel shook his head.
“Whatever is manning that ship doesn’t like sensors, sir, I can’t get a damn thing out of it,” Chavel replied.
“Get a weapons lock, but hold your fire,” Barrington said.
“Yes, sir,” Boyett said activating the cannon’s fire control systems, “Weapons locked.”
A few seconds later, the whole bridge shook. The vibration made Boyett grab her control panel to steady herself. It only lasted a few seconds before abating.
“Report,” Barrington said.
Boyett checked her flight control systems. It all looked normal.
“Flight checks out, sir, I don’t know what that was,” Boyett said.
“Navigation checks out, all okay on my end,” Chavel said.
Boyett looked up at the view screens and saw that there was some sort of green light coming from the dorsal section of the alien ship.
“Try to back us off again, Charly,” Barrington said.
Boyett obeyed and activated the thrusters. Nothing happened.
“Sir, we are unable to move,” Boyett said.
“What?” Barrington replied.
“Confirmed, sir, there is some sort of energy pulse coming from the ship. Looks like a tractor beam of some sort,” Chavel said.
“FTL systems?” Barrington said raising his voice ever so slightly.
“Negative, sir, the FTL ring is locked in place,” Boyett said, “They obviously don’t want us going anywhere.”
She could hear the captain sigh and knew that he instantly regretted not taking the ship to light speed when they had the chance. She then wondered if it would have mattered anyway. They were once again at the mercy of an unknown alien craft.
“Weapons?” Barrington asked.
“Weapons lock has been deactivated,” she said, “The sensors are completely scrambled.”
She knew then that it had been the weapons lock. They had detected it and seen it as an aggressive move. There was silence on the bridge as they waited helplessly to see what would happen next.
13:
THE PRAXIS
Tark’An looked at the small disc-shaped craft and pondered. It had been too easy. He had expected them to attack as soon as they had presented themselves to their sensors, but they didn’t. Why had they reversed their engines and backed away from The Praxis? There had been no attempts at communication. They must have known they were there.
“Shall I destroy them, General?” said Shri’An standing at the centre of the bridge in front of his command podium.
Tark’An thought about it for a minute. It would certainly be the easiest solution.
“Scan the planet,” he replied to his son, “I want to know if the grey race are still there.”
Shri’An nodded and turned to one of the other officers and indicated to him to carry out the order. Tark’An watched the little ship and took a step towards one of the scanning consoles next to the command podium beside his son. He looked at the scans of the ship’s interior. There were over 2,000 life forms on board. Bipedal, with weak skeletal and muscular structures. The bio readings were inconsistent with the grey race’s DNA, yet they had grey race technology incorporated into their vessel. The holding beam that The Praxis was employing would nullify that threat, but their overtly aggressive weapons lock showed them to be a hostile species.
“Is there anything in the database about this species?” he asked Shri’An.
Shri’An made a circular motion of his hand over one of the domed interfaces and brought up a series of sub directories on the main view screen.
“Searching, General,” he said.
Streams of alien writing spread across the view screen as the computer ran the DNA through the library. It paused on a directory and began blinking. Shri’An activated the selection and brought up the data on the screen.
“There,” he said, “Species 67747, their DNA matches that of one of the signal targets at spatial grid 335, mark 193, mark 289. The system was targeted for sentience signal verification but was deemed to be class three and destroyed by the Device Commission several thousand cycles ago to alter the course of several Targlagdu vessels.”
Tark’An looked up at the ship again and frowned. Something was wrong with this picture. Class three planets were early stage development worlds. They were only now being targeted, as the situation was becoming desperate. The Device Commission must have detected something else in the system, something they wanted to get rid of. If this species originated from this star system, they must have done so a long time ago. An unsettling feeling began to grow in the pit of one of his stomachs.
“Options?” he said turning to Shri’An.
“We should destroy them, General, if there’s even a chance that the grey race have commandeered that ship, it’s the only way to be sure,” said Shri’An.
Tark’An remained silent. He looked over the data. They were certainly not a physical threat, which in his youth he would have found unchallenging and perhaps he would indeed have simply destroyed it, but something odd was happening here. He knew what he had to do. He directly disobeyed Drak’Lk’s orders.
“Prepare a boarding party,” he said turning to Shri’An, “Surround the vessel with fighters. I will lead it, with you by my side.”
Shri’An frowned at his father. He could feel his son’s misgivings about the suggestion, but he knew he would never question him publicly. That would be a death sentence, son or no son.
“Yes, General,” replied Shri’An, turning and nodding to one of the other officers indicating that he was now in charge.
Tark’An turned and began making his way towards the back of the bridge. He looked back at his son.
“Bring control rings and arm yourself,” Tark’An said.
Shri’An raised his top two arms and gripped the two swords strapped in a cross shape across his back.
“I am armed, General,” Shri’An said.
THE AGATHON
“I could probably knock out that beam with a good shot, sir,” said Boyett looking at her control panel.
Barrington almost let her do it. With yet another general quarters announcement he felt like his ship was becoming one big prison against unknown hostile aliens. How had their people not detected any signs of intelligent life up until now? The galaxy seemed to be teeming with it. If he’d known, he would’ve turned The Agathon into a battle ship instead of this. Without these new cannons, they were completely defenceless. He remembered discussing the defensive systems once with Jerome Young during a briefing on Mars, only to be met with an insistence that The Agathon was to be a ship of exploration not military combat. He wished Young were alive now so that he could at least have an ‘I told you so’ moment.
“Stand fast, Lieutenant, they haven’t fired on us and judging by its size and technological abilities, it doesn’t look like we would last long in a fight,” Barrington said.
“You’re probably right, sir,” Boyett replied.
“Still, try and get as good a weapons lock as you can. If provoked further, we can give it a shot,” said Barrington.
“Captain, I have movement on my scopes,” said Chavel suddenly.
“Source?” Barrington r
eplied.
“The alien vessel, sir. I have multiple bogies emerging from the port side of the vessel, I count eight,” said Chavel.
Barrington tensed his jaw.
“On screen,” Barrington said.
The view screens flickered and began tracking the small ships as they emerged. They were sleek. They resembled some sort of insect with pointed angular fronts and smooth rounded-off tail sections. Two of the vessels were slightly larger than the rest. Probably transport ships being escorted by fighters, but Barrington couldn’t be sure. They drifted in a perfect diamond formation towards them. Barrington began running tactical scenarios through his mind. If they had wanted to destroy the ship, they would have. They had made no effort to make a ship to ship communication. Probably knowing that it would be useless. Then he knew what it was. They had obviously scanned the ship and not viewed its occupants as a threat. His ship was about to be boarded.
“Condition red,” he shouted at Boyett as he stood from his centre seat.
A sudden vibration shook the bridge.
“They’re firing at us,” Chavel said holding onto his computer console.
Barrington grabbed the side of his chair.
“Charly, get a lock on that ship and return fire,” Barrington said catching his breath.
The lights on the bridge began to flicker and the sound of power draining from the systems gave the captain a sinking feeling.
“Unable to communicate with the fire control system, Captain, the main computer just went down. Looks like they hit us with an EM pulse of some sort,” Boyett said tapping furiously at her flight controls.
Everything suddenly went black. The computer consoles lost their power and Barrington found himself in the dark. There was silence on the bridge.
“Charly, get the back-ups online,” Barrington said into the darkness.
They were blind. After a few seconds, the yellow lights of the backup power generators came online coating the bridge in a warm glow. Barrington stood from his centre seat. They were still alive. That was something. The blow had been precise enough to knock out their ability to retaliate but left the ship undamaged. He tried his comm pad on his chair.
“Bridge to the engine room,” he said.