Nebula Risen

by Jake Bible

  “Yeah, Hessa, they are,” Roak said. “I’ve been at this a lot longer than you have. A database does not equal experience.”

  “No need to get personal again,” Hessa said as the ship dropped out of trans-space and into a new system.

  “And we are…?” Roak asked.

  “I am…unsure,” Hessa replied.

  “How is that again?” Roak asked. “What do you mean you are not sure?”

  “If you will allow me a moment to double check the route, I may be able to give you more exact information,” Hessa snapped.

  Roak held up his hands and waited, keeping his mouth shut. He stared out the view shield at the emptiness of the new system. And it was empty. Only a few flickering stars far off, but no planets, no suns, no other celestial bodies zipping by leaving trails of ice or gas. It was an almost blank canvas.

  “Strange,” Hessa said. “I cannot find record of this system on any of the galactic maps.”

  “I know the answer, but I’m going to ask it anyway,” Roak said. “Did you input the wrong coordinates?”

  “Since you know the answer, I will not bother with your question,” Hessa said. “What I will say is that it appears we have been sent to the farthest wormhole portal created. We are in the outer reaches of the outer reaches.”

  “Interesting,” Roak said just as a single bleep came from the scanners. “So is this.”

  “A ship,” Hessa said and switched the view to focus in on the vehicle that was quickly approaching their ship. “Oh, my. That is a Skrang warship. Heavy class.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Roak said. “Hessa? Where’s the next wormhole portal?”

  “Yes, well, that seems to be the problem,” Hessa said. “The Skrang warship is between us and it.”

  “Sure. Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Roak said and sighed. More bleeps on the scanners then a general warning klaxon. “And their weapons just went hot.”

  “Yes, they did,” Hessa said. “Roak, I will need to ask you to fully strap in and allow me to handle this, please.”

  “This shit is all yours,” Roak said and began pulling extra straps from under his seat. He clicked them into place on a central hub then pressed his palm to the hub. The space between the straps filled in with a light foam. “Fully strapped.”

  “I do apologize for what I will need to do next,” Hessa said.

  The ship dove fast. Roak had been subjected to a lot of evasive maneuvers over the past few days, but he was far from prepared for the force that he was subjected to. His body would have been beat to hell if he hadn’t been strapped in with the foam. Hessa had diverted power from all non-essential systems, including grav dampeners, in order for the ship to execute the twists and turns needed to duck under the Skrang warship’s incoming barrage of torpedo fire.

  Roak would have liked to comment on how it sure looked like the Skrang didn’t want any witnesses to their occupation of a system that wasn’t on galactic maps and stood at the outer reaches of the outer reaches. But he was too busy trying to keep his teeth from cracking as his jaw clenched so hard that he thought his tendons would snap. The muscles in his neck stood out like alloy cables and there was a ringing in his ears that threatened to become deafening.

  “We’ve avoided the first wave,” Hessa said. “Deploying countermeasures so they cannot double back on us.”

  Roak grunted in response.

  “No need to reply,” Hessa said. “I can see from your vital signs that you are in great physical distress. My apologies. I should have insisted you travel in the med pod in case of a situation such as this.”

  Roak grunted again.

  “I must insist you do not stress yourself by trying to respond, Roak,” Hessa said. “Please relax as much as possible. Passing out is perfectly acceptable.”

  Roak didn’t bother grunting to that statement, but he also didn’t bother passing out. Both seemed like too much effort. He watched as a second wave of torpedoes came at the ship. Their spread was wider, casting a bigger net, than the first wave.

  “Countermeasures will not work with this wave,” Hessa said, sounding as if she was narrating a nature vid. “I will need to go on the offensive to avoid destruction.”

  The ship’s plasma cannons came to life and destroyed half the torpedoes. That still left the other half which were zeroing in on their target with perfect precision. Hessa brought the ship up in a steep climb then leveled out, allowing the torpedoes to target the ship’s belly.

  Roak did not mind that the view did not switch to show the torpedoes coming up from below. He figured he’d know if Hessa’s plan worked or not by the fact he’d survive the next few seconds or he wouldn’t. The ship shook and shuddered and Roak felt one of his molars crack from the strain of his stress.

  But the ship stayed intact and there were no warning klaxons telling him he was about to be purged out into the void of space.

  Several more shudders and Hessa brought the ship up and around so they were flying directly at the Skrang warship’s aft engines. The pressure on Roak’s body lessened enough that he was able to loosen his jaw.

  “Are we…following…them?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Hessa said. “I was able to use the torpedoes against each other. We suffered some minor hull damage and our shield power has dropped by sixteen percent, but we came out of the ordeal virtually unscathed.”

  “Yay,” Roak said weakly. “So…why are we…following the Skrang…warship?”

  “We are flying in their engine wash which is hampering their ability to target us with another wave of torpedoes,” Hessa replied. “Are you familiar with the Skrang’s weapons system technology?”

  “I’ve watched it…work,” Roak said. “Never been…on the…losing end before.”

  “Obviously not,” Hessa said. “Or you would not be alive.”

  She cleared her virtual throat as she brought the ship closer to the Skrang’s aft engines.

  “The Skrang are a race that believes in military might and brute force,” Hessa stated.

  “Yeah…I know.”

  “This brute force is what allowed them to continue the War for as long as they did,” Hessa said. “But, what the Skrang do not get credit for is their invention of learning weapons.”

  “That is…too bad,” Roak said.

  “Yes, quite,” Hessa said. “While the Galactic Fleet put a considerable amount of resources into developing artificial intelligence systems to assist with the piloting of ships and some other, more covert activities, the Skrang put their engineers and techs to work making their weapons smarter. Each of those torpedoes had an AI processor inside them which was networked to the other AI processors. They learned as they attacked. When they failed, they took that failure and analyzed it so that the next wave of torpedoes would not make the same logistical mistakes. It is rather ingenious for a race of beings that have been known to eat their young during times of cultural chaos.”

  “Ingenious,” Roak said. “I’ve always…said that.”

  “You can stop mocking me,” Hessa said. “If I did not have this knowledge of how the Skrang’s weapons operate, then we would be dead.”

  “So…no third wave?”

  “No third wave,” Hessa said. “Even if the Skrang wanted to launch a third wave of torpedoes, the weapons themselves would refuse since the only outcome would be certain self-destruction due to our proximity to their ship. I have made it so there are no other alternatives.”

  Roak waited for more, but Hessa did not continue. The pressure lessened and lessened until he was able to stretch his jaw and speak normally.

  “Hessa? What’s up?” he asked.

  “What is up is that the Skrang warship is moving in the opposite direction from the wormhole portal that we need to go through,” Hessa said. “They are flying towards the one we just came through.”

  “Shit,” Roak said.

  “Yes. Shit,” Hessa agreed. “We will have to break away from our current defensive position in order to contin
ue on our route.”

  “Which means smart torpedoes coming at our ass,” Roak said.

  “That is one way to put it, yes,” Hessa said.

  “Okay. Not like we have much of a choice,” Roak said. “We have to keep going.”

  “Correct. We do have one advantage and that is we have not engaged our stealth tech,” Hessa said. “That will give us approximately a three-minute head start.”

  “Go,” Roak said. “Don’t wait and let the Skrang come up with a plan. They’ve seen our ship and know it’s a Borgon Eight-Three-Eight. Go.”

  “My assessment, as well,” Hessa said and the ship banked hard.

  Roak stayed strapped in and watched as the view changed. Far off, the small dot that was their destination could be seen. Roak knew they were a long ways off, but even from where he was, the portal looked small. Very small.

  “Hessa?” Roak said.

  “I was hoping you would not notice,” Hessa said.

  “We’re gonna fit, right?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Good.”

  “It will be tight.”

  “So?”

  “So…it will be tight. There will be no margin for error when we enter the portal.”

  “Okay.”

  “If one of the torpedoes were to impact with us, then that could alter our course.”

  “Okay.”

  “We do not want that.”

  “Hey, Hessa?”

  “Yes, Roak?”

  “Shut up and fly the damn ship.”

  Hessa mumbled something, but Roak did not catch it.

  He could see by the readings on the control console that the stealth tech had been engaged as soon as they stopped following the Skrang warship. He could also tell that a third and fourth wave of torpedoes were racing after them despite the stealth tech being engaged.

  It wasn’t hard for the Skrang to guess where they were going. All the stealth tech did was stop the torpedoes from getting a confirmed lock on the ship. That kept the weapons from peak efficiency.

  Roak came to the grim realization that his life was completely in the grip of a set of parameters that had basically zero margin for error. He shrugged and rolled his eyes without knowing he was doing either. Just another Eight Million Godsdamn day as usual.

  “Sixty seconds,” Hessa called.

  Roak watched the wormhole portal grow closer and closer. As it did, Roak saw that the size wasn’t the only issue. It had a strange shimmer to it that he hadn’t seen before in a portal. The entrance wavered between a bright green and a bright silver then would dull and flash black every couple of seconds. If he wasn’t so hyperaware, he would have missed the black flashes and chalked them up to his eyes blinking.

  “Forty-five seconds,” Hessa said.

  Klaxons rang out as the torpedoes gained on their position. They still had not locked on, but if they stayed on their present course they would hit the ship by default.

  “Thirty-five seconds,” Hessa said.

  “Blow them up,” Roak said. “It’ll give our exact position away, but we might be able to slow them down.”

  “The advantage is so slight, Roak, that it is not worth the risk,” Hessa said.

  “Hessa, do it,” Roak ordered. “We’re going with my gut, not your calculations.”

  “That would be a mistake.”

  “You have no idea how many people have said that to me in my lifetime yet here I am,” Roak said.

  “Do you really want to use your present circumstances as proof that your instincts are correct?” Hessa asked.

  “Fire on the damn torpedoes!” Roak shouted.

  Hessa fired on the damn torpedoes. Roak watched the results on the console. Six of the wave in front were taken out which caused a chain reaction among the remainder. Torpedo after torpedo were destroyed until only four were left. Four very fast, very determined smart torpedoes.

  Roak started to consider becoming a monk with the Saldt sect and giving up a life amongst tech. Sit on a grass mat all day with his legs crossed while he hummed some mantra over and over from dawn until dusk. It was an appealing thought.

  “Ten seconds,” Hessa said.

  Roak’s eyes were fixed on the console and the aft image of the four torpedoes. He couldn’t do the math that Hessa could do, but he’d been in a thousand similar tight situations. It was basically a chit toss from what he could see. They’d live or they would die.

  “Entering now!” Hessa announced as the ship hit the wormhole dead on just as two of the torpedoes veered off and detonated against the portal’s framework.

  The ship’s power cut out and everything went dark.

  32.

  “Life support?” Roak asked.

  “Yes,” Hessa replied as the control console rebooted and the view shield showed the swirling trans-space. It was still that strange green to silver to black flashes, but at least it was there and so was the ship. “Engines are online as well.”

  “Hot damn,” Roak said and took several deep breaths.

  “I have finished full diagnostics and we seem to have made it through fairly intact. We are not unscathed, but there is nothing the bots cannot fix while in transit,” Hessa said. “If it was not completely irrational, I would say that we were very lucky. However, luck is not a variable I can either compute or rely on yet. Give me more time with you–”

  “Fair enough, fair enough,” Roak said. “What’s our ETA until the next destination?”

  “About three hours,” Hessa said. “I have been researching our route and we should not be entering any other strange systems. Other than the final two systems, we will travel without impediment.”

  “I won’t hold my breath,” Roak said.

  He undid all the straps, let the added security foam fall away in clumps, then stood and stretched, twisting his back this way and that until several satisfying pops were heard and felt.

  “I’m going to sleep until the next system,” Roak said, heading for the lift. “Call me if we–”

  “Yes, yes,” Hessa said. “Go sleep, Roak.”

  Roak nodded and left the bridge.

  By the time he got to his cabin, he was dead on his feet. His head was screaming from the heavy grav maneuvers he endured during the encounter with the Skrang warship and his body felt like he’d done ten rounds in the Orbs himself. He was spent.

  Roak collapsed onto his bed as the cabin door closed behind him. He struggled to get his boots off, totally failed, and ended up falling asleep diagonally across his bed covers.

  When he awoke, he was glad that the engines were running and the vibrations humming through the ship’s floor felt like everything was normal. He didn’t jolt awake and jump out of bed, but eased up onto his feet and shuffled to the head. Roak managed to get his boots off that time. He stripped off his armor and stepped into the sonic shower.

  Water was too precious on ship, so he endured the scathing sonic waves that washed over him, stripping the sweat and grime from every inch and pore of his skin. When he was certain he was clean, he switched the sonic to air and warmed his body until he felt as human as he could feel.

  Thoughts of his past tried to infiltrate his mind, but he punched them down deep where they belonged. He wasn’t going there. No matter how hard she’d tried to dredge it all up, Roak absolutely, one hundred percent, refused to be dragged into those memories. He was done with all that.

  Come back to the fold…

  It didn’t fit. Something was wrong. She would have never asked for that. They would never have asked for that.

  Roak shook his head and grabbed a fresh shirt and pair of pants then donned his light armor once more. He strapped on his pistols, deciding that two felt right for what would more than likely be ahead, and left his cabin. A quick stop by the mess for some food and he was back in the lift, ready to take his seat on the bridge.

  “We almost to the next portal yet?” Roak asked around a mouthful of protein mush.

  “We have been
through three portals,” Hessa replied. “I chose to let you sleep. You needed it.”

  “Three portals?” Roak asked. He checked the console. “Damn. I was out.”

  “You were,” Hessa said. “Your vitals have not evened out like that for quite some time. It would have been hard for you to get better rest in a med pod.”

  “Good to know,” Roak said as he sat down and kicked his feet up on the console. He took a couple of bites of protein mush. “How many more legs until we reach the first of the not so fun systems?”

  “It will be our next portal,” Hessa said.

  Roak dropped his feet and sat straight up.

  “The next one? You might have given me a little more notice than that.”

  “I do not see how it can make much difference,” Hessa said. “The Klatu System is what it is. I have been studying the records in the database and I have found that as long as we stay within the prescribed route, we should not have an issue with our travels.”

  “I’ve been in the Klatu System, Hessa,” Roak said. “There are…things in the Klatu System. Big things. Things that do not play by the rules of physics or reality.”

  “Yes, that was all in the records,” Hessa said. “However, I believe those accounts are highly subject since they come from beings that can be easily manipulated and from minds that can perceive reality in a distorted way.”

  “You mean minds that aren’t AI,” Roak said.

  “I did not want to come out and say it, but yes,” Hessa admitted. “Biological beings are more bio than logical.”

  “That’s funny,” Roak said. “Ha and ha. But you’re wrong. I told you, I’ve seen some of those things. They weren’t part of my perceived distorted reality. They distorted the reality. They did. Not me.”

  “Perhaps I will be able to witness this phenomenon myself,” Hessa said. “If so, then I can confirm centuries of reports. Consider this a scientific outing.”

  “No,” Roak said. “No. We won’t consider it that. We will keep our eyes open, our weapons hot, our engines at full, and we will run the gauntlet of the Klatu System as fast as possible.”

  “I will consider that the plan then,” Hessa said as the swirling view came to a sudden halt and the ship exited the wormhole portal and entered the Klatu System.