When Slone arrived on the bridge, he could see the shuttle returning with the yacht in tow. The only problem with the picture was the fact that the yacht was not a yacht; it was an advanced scout craft. Slone pushed the button on his chair console and opened a ship-to-ship channel.
"Major Sardac, that doesn’t look like a yacht."
"No sir, it most certainly is not. There are two occupants in stasis. Both appear wounded. We left them aboard in stasis and plan to bring the entire ship into the hangar. Med techs are on their way out to check for contamination.
"Good call, major. Have Dr. DeFleur notify me when they are out of stasis so I can question them. Maybe we can finally get some answers."
Slone’s intercom chirped, “Captain, engineering here, we are free to maneuver.”
Slone acknowledged and clicked off the intercom. “Navigation, take us to the outbound slipstream for Purgatory.”
“Aye, sir. Coming about.”
“How long till insertion?”
“Calculations indicate 11 hours, 22 minutes.”
“Navigation, you have the con. Let me know if anything changes or when we are one hour from insertion.” Slone left the bridge and went to his cabin. He took off his jacket and called the sickbay. “Doctor, how are our guests from the ‘yacht’?”
“They are both banged up but I think the female will make it. The male is not going to survive. He keeps asking to speak with the CEO of Sinclair Corp, but he is drifting in and out of consciousness. Now that he’s out of stasis, I think he will be gone in a few hours.”
“When can we talk with the female?”
“She’s in remarkably good shape. She has been conscious but is still suffering from stasis sickness. I think she should be fully aware in five to six hours.”
“Let me know as soon as we can talk. Bring her up to the conference room then.”
“Yes, sir. There is also the matter of our dead.”
The one part of battle Slone had not given any thought to was disposal of the dead. It was a ship captain’s least agreeable aspect of the job.
“Let everyone get a few hours of rest. Set the time of disposal for six hours from now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Slone lay down on his bunk and, despite himself, fell fast asleep. His adjutant came into the room and tried to make him more comfortable. The battle of Bickle’s star had been a victory, but it also opened up a totally unknown future that Slone knew would have a huge impact on the human race. We could finally say we are not alone, but so far, the reception has been far from friendly. Unpleasant dreams haunted the sleep of Captain Christopher Slone. He kept dreaming of that alien body, so different from anything man had ever seen. It formed the background of all the visions in his dreams and turned them into nightmares. If they are able to build starships and are as indestructible as they seemed, then man was in trouble. What most bothered him about those ships is why they were copies of human vessels when the aliens were so different from us? His dreams were also filled with visions of the dead. The men and women he would be eulogizing died not only for Sinclair Corp but also for him. They depended on him and it was following his orders that got them killed. Intellectually he knew it was not his fault, but rather circumstances, that caused their death, but guilt was hard to put aside. Perhaps after many years of command, things would be different, but he also knew that when they became commonplace and he could no longer feel the loss, then part of his humanity would be gone.
Chapter 3 - The Scout
Five and a half hours into the system traverse, Samantha Jones woke her captain. She had already laid out his clothing, and had pulled a dress uniform out of his locker. “Captain, it’s almost time for the ceremony.”
“Ensign, you’ll be with me on the podium to attend to any pressing matters.”
“Yes, sir.”
Slone got dressed and went down to the hangar deck. The ship was speeding its way across the system with a constant level of acceleration as they approached half the speed of light. The nine dead were already encapsulated and loaded into shell casings. It was the tradition of the space fleet to fire the bodies of the dead in empty cannon shell casings using compressed air. In death, we all become part of the universe. The officers and crew, who could be spared, were clothed in their dress uniforms and stood at attention in front of a podium, set up at one end of the hangar bay. As was also traditional, each dead crewmember, as well as those missing in action, had their names read before the captain spoke. Slone took his place at the rostrum and the crew snapped to attention.
“At ease, ladies and gentlemen. We are here to bid farewell to our fallen comrades. They were part of the ship’s crew or part of our marine units, but most of all they were our friends. We all have each other’s backs and they died watching ours. They are the first casualties in a war we did not ask for but will have to see to its finish. As I am sure you are all aware by now, we are dealing with our first non-human enemy. To say this is a shock, is an understatement. The next forty-eight hours will see us in another battle with the ships that accompanied the dreadnought we recently fought. Our comrades did their duties and gave the ultimate sacrifice for us all. We now commend their bodies to the space that surrounds the system and allow them to return to the fabric of the universe from which they came. May they always live in our memories. From this day, their families become our families. Boson, pipe their departure.”
The boson’s whistle played its sad and melodious tune, indicating important people departing the ship. At a nod from Slone, the chief gunner gave the command and all heard the near silent hiss of compressed air venting through the cannons. This was followed by the sound of the gun crews feeding another shell into the breaches. Again, the sound of compressed air indicated the departure of their crew mates and friends. They were fired from both sides of the ship and the red dwarf glinted off the metal surfaces of the shells as they disappeared into the depths of the system. In time, they would either collide with a body in the system or plunge into the star. The crew spontaneously began to sing a dirge whose sadness fit the melancholy of the occasion. It was not lost on all those present that they were taking part in the first of many such ceremonies to take place before this war was over.
After the song was finished the boson ordered the crew to attention and blew a final, lilting tune on the boson’s whistle. He then dismissed the assembled crew and Slone went down to the deck and did what he could to honor the fallen in solemn discussion of their lives with their friends. On the long return to Purgatory, he would write fifteen letters to fifteen families telling them of the courage of their loved ones. Now thoroughly depressed he was glad for the interruption by Dr. DeFleur.
“Captain, the female occupant of the Yacht is doing well and is back to normal. She is available for questioning at any time. Her male companion didn’t make it. He had severe internal damage due to some kind of corrosive material that seems to have been injected into his body.”
“Any idea how that happened?”
“No and I haven’t questioned his partner about it; thought you would want to do that yourself.”
“Bring her to my ready room. Ensign Jones, have all department heads report to my ready room after they change out of their dress uniforms.” Slone left the hangar deck and headed back to his quarters. His adjutant carried out his orders, followed him to his quarters, and put out his bridge uniform. He changed and went into the ready room just as his department heads began to arrive. The last to arrive was Dr. DeFleur accompanied by a young woman in a body hugging flight suit. Slone had to catch his breath when he saw her. She was a tall, brunette and the most stunningly beautiful woman he had ever seen. He judged her to be in her late twenties and she carried herself in such a manner as to make it clear that she was used to speaking from a position of authority. DeFleur directed her to a vacant seat near Slone, who found it very hard to keep his eyes off her.
“My name is Captain Christopher Slone of the star cruiser SS Hayden. I hope
you have found your treatment here satisfactory.”
“The doctor has treated me well, but it’s very important that I get back to Sinclair Corp with the information I have.”
“We are on our way back to Purgatory; from there you can find transport to Sinclair Corp.”
“That will not be satisfactory. I am commandeering your ship to take me directly to my destination.”
The officers at the table looked at each other and the captain and the room suddenly erupted into laughter. Their guest’s face turned livid with rage and she slammed her fist on the table. “You have no idea how important this is. The entire galaxy is at risk.”
Slone recovered his amusement and signaled for quiet. “I’m sorry but we weren’t expecting anyone to commandeer us. First I would like to know who it is who wants to take over my ship.”
“My name is Alaya Sinclair and my father is the CEO of Sinclair Corp.”
“Then you are the young lady we were sent to rescue.” Slone then became more serious, “I’m sorry about your husband, I’m afraid he didn’t make it.”
“He was not my husband. That honeymoon business was only a cover to hide the real purpose of my mission.”
“So now we have gone from a honeymoon to a mission. Who was the person with you?”
“He was my bodyguard. He did his job in getting me here, which is all you need to know. We are in grave danger and I must get back to warn people.”
“Warn them about what?” Slone suspected he knew what she was afraid of, since he had an alien in the med lab, but he wanted to hear for himself. Obviously, Sinclair was playing a dangerous game and knew about the aliens. The scout ship must have been in alien territory, since Ms. Sinclair could not have known about the battle at Bickle’s star.
“What I know is on a need to know basis. Sinclair Corp pays for the fleets out here so I expect you to do what I need and not question me.”
Slone had heard enough of this; time to take this arrogant rich kid down a peg. “Ok, you can keep your information to yourself but I will tell you what we know. Three ships came through this system from parts unknown and arrived over Purgatory. They were a dreadnought and two destroyers. They shot up Purgatory and then the dreadnought came after us, since we missed the action at our home, looking for you. We engaged and defeated the dreadnought and discovered it was manned by silicon based, methane breathing aliens that rather remind me of a big starfish. Is that about what you know?”
The look of shock on her face was priceless, as she deflated under Slone’s gaze. “So they’re here already. Well, I don’t need to keep silent then. You have realized we were not in a Yacht on a honeymoon. My ship is an advanced scout ship with stealth technology. My father sent me in to investigate what happened to two missions we sent in ahead with no further word heard from them. This was going to be our last attempt to find what happened and to attempt a rescue if we could.”
“And you expect me to believe that your father would send his daughter on a mission, to parts unknown, where others never returned?”
“I am daughter number five and have no interest in the family business. He has more than enough children to keep him company. I prefer adventure to palace living. My mother was a lesser wife and there were no prospects for me there. There are even rumors he may not be my father. The tabloids on the inner worlds always tried to prove my mother had an affair, even to the day of her death. But over time I have earned my father’s admiration as a scout more than as a corporate brat.”
Slone admired this young woman. It was very difficult in the present society to break away from corporate bonds. Governments did not function well in the 32nd century and almost everything was financed and run by corporations. When earth was devastated in her last war, all government control on the great space-mining corporations was lost and they became the powers in the known galaxy. To be a member of one of the corporate families and to throw off that yoke to build one’s own reputation was a rare and a brave thing. Slone now knew that this was a remarkable woman. “We have a long trip back to Purgatory and still five hours to the outbound slipstream. Time enough for you to tell us about your mission and how you came to be here.”
In truth, Alaya Sinclair was glad to be alive. It had been a closer call than it looked from her condition and she was sorry her bodyguard did not make it. Charles may have been pretending to be her husband for the cover story, but she genuinely liked him as a friend. Though there had never been anything between them, they had spent a lot of time together scouting for mining worlds. Since these people had already fought and won against the aliens, they deserved to know the truth. She sat back, took a sip of the drink that had been placed in front of her, and began her tale as those around the table listened in rapt silence.
“My father decided a decade ago that we needed to see what lay beyond Bickle’s star. For some reason he had a gut feeling there was wealth to be found in the outer rim planets. Since Sinclair Corp controls all of the adjacent systems, my father felt we could advance outward with no fear of competition, since competing corporations would need to travel through our space to go further out. Therefore, my father had the tech boys make up an unmanned mining probe. This is standard procedure for this type of exploration. The probe located the outbound slipstream and promptly vanished. Two more probes followed with the same result. Rather than discourage my father, it made him more determined. He then made the fateful decision to send in manned probes. I can tell from your expressions that you thought we only sent and lost unmanned probes. My father kept the manned on a need to know basis.
“The first manned mission consisted of a scout craft with a standard crew of six. It went into the slipstream. We know this from the last message pod they sent as they were about to enter the slipstream and deploy. That was the last we heard of them and the same happened to the next six-man scout. At this point my father, in all his wisdom, decided to finally call on his best, me. My ship is a custom scout vessel with stealth technology. I am sure your techs have already been all over her. My father decided I would go in with my long time scouting partner, Charles Balpar and four others. What you want to hear is what happened to us and what we all need to do about it.”
The room was very quiet. Slone knew this was a revelation. Seventeen out of eighteen people died on scouting missions. The normal loss rate for those missions is six a decade. Surveying for mining planets is not a dangerous profession, but after the encounter with the methane breathers, he suspected why it was they disappeared. What he could not understand is why more ships were sent in when there was obviously a major problem.
“I can see what you’re thinking, Captain. Why keep sending ships in. When the first ship was lost, the second went in to attempt a rescue. It was not until that one was lost that we suspected something unusual. However, believe me, it was natural phenomena we were looking at or a problem with the slipstream. Aliens were not even on the list.”
“Then it was the aliens who took out the first two ships?”
“You are getting ahead of the story. Let me continue and we will get there.”
“Very well, sorry for the interruption.”
“We passed through Purgatory with our cover story and headed for Bickle’s star. After we entered the system, we went to the restricted slipstream. My father had already declared the slipstream restricted due to our losses. We made it to the slipstream without complication and that is when our troubles began. We entered the unknown, outbound slipstream with the intention to deploy our sails and travel to the next system. We had decided to come out of the stream in stealth mode and keep it under sail to suppress detection. None of that ever happened. When we entered the slipstream, we discovered that our slipstream was something entirely unknown to us. We had entered a wormhole.”
Her listeners all looked at each other around the table. Wormholes had been a concept many centuries in the past. They were disproven by later observation; although mathematics still insisted they were possible. As humans moved
among the stars, the places where mathematics had told them there should be a wormhole, there was never one found. In time, humans abandoned the concept.
Slone was about to say something when his navigator interrupted. “A wormhole? Are you sure? No one has ever found one of those.”
“I assure you they do exist. Just because WE decided they don’t exist, didn’t seem to faze the one we dropped into. The flight through it was mind numbing, disorienting and almost instantaneous. We had no sooner entered the wormhole than we dropped out the other side. I remember a story from old earth, my mother read to me as a child. It was about a girl who fell down a hole chasing a creature of some kind and came out in a very alien world. That’s how we felt. It took us several minutes to recover. At first, we thought there had been a malfunction, and we had dropped out of the slipstream. It was not until we consulted the navigation computer that we realized something extraordinary had happened. We were in Andromeda.”
This time there was an audible gasp around the table. Now it was Slone’s turn to interrupt. “Andromeda, as in the Galaxy?”
“Yes, Captain. In virtually the blink of an eye, the wormhole had transported us 2.4 million light years to the next galaxy. In the bridge bubble, we could see our Milky Way filling the sky. I know, hard to believe. For us as well, we checked and rechecked the computer and even resorted to manual star sightings, the ones we use to double check the exact location of mines for registering claims. No matter how we did it, the results were the same; we had traveled through an intergalactic wormhole to another galaxy.”
There was silence in the room as those present digested this information. Intergalactic travel was the holy grail of faster than light travel. However, even at the highest speed attainable by ships in slipstreams, it would still take 150 years, non-stop, to sail to Andromeda. Though the story seems impossible it did answer two questions Slone had. If the aliens came from a different galaxy, it would explain why they had not run into them before and it answers how their escape pods appeared to enter a slipstream without deploying sails. What it did not answer was how the aliens came in ships that were copies of their own ship classes. Surely, a parallel development of technology to that degree is impossible. Alaya Sinclair continued her story.
Voyage of the Hayden (The Adventures of Christopher Slone Book 1) Page 6