by Ryk Brown
“That’ll take too long,” the captain objected. “If we’re not out of here in a few hours, I’m going to have to pay for another day in this dust pit.”
“All right,” Marcus said. “And then what? Even if we fix all this, we don’t have the propellant or the supplies to get very far. And the long night will be comin’ soon enough.”
“We’ll figure something out, Marcus. Besides, this planet is covered with molo, so at least we won’t starve. Hell, we can load up with the stuff…pack our pantry with it. And if I remember correctly, the long night brings storms along with it, which means water. So I expect we can hold out a good long while, if we have to.”
“And if the Jung come?” Josh asked.
“In that case, we’ll have no choice,” the captain admitted. “We’ll take our chances and jump away—full of molo and water—and we’ll keep jumping until we find someplace else to ply our trade. But hopefully, something better will come along before it gets to that. In the meantime, we’ll be molo farmers.” Captain Tuplo patted Marcus on the shoulder as he turned and headed back down the ramp to check out the exterior of his ship.
“Great,” Marcus said dryly. “Just what I’ve always wanted.” He looked at Josh. “You had to go and open your big yap, didn’t ya?”
“What?”
“Cap’n, I know a place!” Marcus said, mocking Josh.
CHAPTER NINE
Commander Kaplan glanced back down at her data pad before speaking again. “The latest word from command logistics is that the Dorsay should be jumping out to resupply us in about twelve hours.”
“What’s the delay?” Cameron asked, her eyes still on the view screen at her desk.
“I guess they’re just trying to get her fully loaded before she departs.”
“I’d rather they just get us the basics, like more jump missiles right now, and then bring the rest later.”
“Agreed, but I suspect that they’re pretty busy there. The Cape Town is already back in Earth orbit, and they’re busting their behinds to get her fully armed.”
Cameron finally looked up from her view screen and at her XO sitting on the other side of the desk. “The Cape Town isn’t going to defend Earth all by herself.” Cameron looked back at her view screen. “Especially not with Stettner in command,” she added flatly.
“Stettner’s a good man, Cam.”
“He may be a good man, Lara, but you and I both know he’s hardly qualified to command the fleet’s first Protector-class ship.”
“Let’s not go down that road, again,” Lara said, rolling her eyes in disgust.
“I loathe politics.” Cameron pushed her view screen aside, rubbing her tired eyes. “How are things going, crew-wise? Are you getting everyone cross-trained?”
“We’re working on it. We’ve been concentrating on the critical areas first, like cross-training damage control teams to also act as medical rescue, and having the bridge staff teach each other their jobs, so they can act as relief for short breaks. We’ve even got a pretty good rotation schedule set up, so that no one is required to act as temp-relief during their off-duty time more than twice per day, and everyone gets at least one day per week when they will not be asked to act as relief while off-duty. That, and the fact that most extra shifts involve working somewhere other than their normal duty stations, should help. I’m also making sure we stock the food dispensers with more of their favorites, just to help keep morale up while we’re all working extra shifts.”
Cameron smiled. “Best way to a man’s heart, huh?”
“Hey, a woman’s heart too,” Lara replied. “I need my comfort food as much as the next guy.”
The intercom panel built into the captain’s desk beeped. Cameron reached for it. “Yes?”
“Just received a message from Cobra Three One Seven via jump comm-drone, sir,” the comm officer reported. “They detected a red-shifted trail in sector alpha foxtrot, grid two seven five one, elevation two eight three below the solar ecliptic. Lieutenant Commander Kono agrees it may be a Jung FTL trail.”
Commander Kaplan’s brow furrowed. “That’s less than a light year from Sol’s heliopause.”
Cameron switched channels on the intercom. “Helm, Captain. I want to investigate that possible contact. Plot a jump. I’m on my way.”
“Helm, aye.”
“How does your rotation schedule handle this?” Cameron asked as she rose to exit.
“By throwing it out the window and starting over,” the commander replied simply as she also stood to leave.
Cameron walked out from behind her desk and headed straight for the hatch from her ready room to the bridge, with her XO falling in line behind her as she passed.
“Captain on the bridge!” the Aurora’s port entrance guard announced as the captain stepped out of her ready room.
Cameron went directly to her command chair at the center of the Aurora’s bridge. Her XO, Commander Kaplan, went directly to the sensor station to the left of the command chair and peered over the shoulder of Lieutenant Commander Kono, to see the sensor readings transmitted by the Cobra gunship that had reported the detection.
“Jump to sector alpha foxtrot, grid two seven five one, elevation two eight three below the solar ecliptic, plotted and ready, Captain,” the navigator, Ensign Bickle, reported.
“Lieutenant Dinev, put us on the jump line,” Cameron ordered, as she took her seat in the command chair.
“Changing course, aye,” the helmsman answered.
Commander Kaplan turned away from the sensor station to face the captain. “I concur with the lieutenant commander’s analysis, Captain. It looks an awful lot like a Jung FTL signature.”
“There is something peculiar about it, though,” the sensor officer added.
“Peculiar, how?” Cameron inquired.
“It’s not what we’re used to seeing. The gamma radiation levels from the trail are much higher than normal,” Lieutenant Commander Kono explained.
“Don’t the mass-cancelling fields on the older Jung ships give off a lot more gamma radiation?” Cameron commented.
“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant commander replied. “But the levels in the sensor reading from Cobra Three One Seven are indicative of the much older, Toran-Ot class frigates.”
“So, the Jung are using old frigates,” Cameron said. “That isn’t unusual.”
“Only the trail is too large to be a frigate, sir,” the lieutenant commander replied. “Its size suggests something at least as big as a heavy cruiser, or even one of their first generation battleships.”
“No one has spotted one of those in years,” the commander commented.
“A Jung ship is a Jung ship, Commander,” Cameron stated matter-of-factly. “Especially when it’s deep in Alliance space.”
“On course and speed for jump, Captain,” the helmsman reported.
“Recommend general quarters before we jump, Captain,” the XO suggested.
“Good idea, Commander,” Cameron agreed. “If it is a Jung battleship, even an old one, I’d much rather have our shields up and our weapons hot when we find out for sure.” Cameron turned to her communications officer. “Mister deBanco, set general quarters.”
* * *
The Seiiki cruised along lazily, five hundred meters above the dusty surface of Haven. Below them, vast expanses of the fungus-like plant known as molo, broken by the occasional farmyard, slid beneath them as they cruised away from Haven’s only spaceport, toward the abandoned farm that would serve as their temporary home.
“This place is even more depressing outside of the city,” Dalen commented.
“I didn’t think that was possible,” Neli added, agreeing with Dalen.
“It is,” Marcus grumbled. “Trust me.”
Captain Tuplo turned and looked over his shoulder at the three of them, standing behind him and Josh.
“We’re about five minutes out, Cap’n,” Josh announced, glancing at the navigation display. “We should probably drop down low n
ow, so the spaceport can’t track us.”
“All right,” Captain Tuplo replied hesitantly. “Just don’t buzz anyone’s home. We don’t need them calling in a complaint.”
“There’s a dried-out riverbed to the east. It’s pretty deep, and it’s wide enough for us to fly down low. That should keep anyone nearby from getting a good look at us. We should be able to pop up and slide over to the Redmond place without being spotted. Like I said, it’s pretty remote.”
“If it’s such a big river, why is it dried out?”
“All the rivers dry up between the long nights,” Marcus explained. “They fill back up with all the rain storms that the long nights bring. That’s why you see so many water towers and tanks all over the place. Everyone fills up while the rivers are full, so they can get by when they dry up.”
“Very well,” Captain Tuplo said. “Take us down to the riverbed, Josh.”
“You got it.”
Josh adjusted the Seiiki’s flight controls, causing the ship to drop its nose slightly and descend toward the surface. Half a minute later, they were in the riverbed, the shoreline rushing by above them on either side.
Josh twisted the flight control stick back and forth, rolling the ship from port to starboard, as he snaked it through the windy, dried-up riverbed. Now and again, puddles of water not yet evaporated by the searing heat of Haven, were blown in all directions as the Seiiki streaked over them, disturbing the calm waters.
“Damn! I haven’t had this much fun flyin’ in a long time,” Josh declared joyfully.
“Feel free to slow it down a bit, Josh,” the captain replied, his eyes wide. “If you’re so inclined, that is.”
“Don’t worry, Captain,” Marcus assured him. “If there’s one thing the boy can do, it’s fly.”
“Damn, Josh! Go!” Dalen cried out, enjoying himself just as much as the pilot.
“Don’t forget, we aren’t in the best condition right now, Josh,” the captain reminded him.
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with her maneuvering systems, Cap’n,” Dalen insisted, almost feeling insulted. “And we’re running as light as possible right now, so she’s got lift to spare.”
“I was speaking about myself,” the captain replied tensely, squinting as if he were afraid to watch the walls rushing past them.
The Seiiki pulled around a sharp bend in the riverbed. Ahead of them, a massive outcropping jut out from the right side of the riverbed, cutting the bed by more than half its width.
“Oh shit! Pull up!” Captain Tuplo warned.
“Low bridge!” Josh yelled, almost giggling with delight. He rolled the Seiiki forty-five degrees to the right, as he fired the starboard translation thruster, sending the angled ship skidding to port. “Hang on!” The ship’s starboard engine nacelle dipped just under the rocky outcropping, barely skimming the large puddle of water that had yet to evaporate due to the shade provided by the rocks above.
“Jesus!” Neli exclaimed, closing her eyes for a moment.
Captain Tuplo started breathing again. He looked at the navigation display. “Destination is coming up to port.”
“Fun’s over, I guess,” Josh replied with disappointment, as he pulled back on the flight control stick and added additional power to the Seiiki’s lift thrusters.
The ship jumped up out of the riverbed, much to the relief of everyone but Josh. Additional jets of translation thrust sent the Seiiki sliding to port, passing over fields of wild molo that seemed like it hadn’t been cultivated for many years.
Captain Tuplo gazed out the port windows as the ship slipped along only four meters above the surface. “Uh, Josh?”
“No worries, Cap’n. Ain’t nothin’ out here.”
“Where’s this place at?” the captain wondered, still trying to spot the abandoned farm from the side windows.
Josh glanced at the navigation display again. “Should be right……about…”
A large, oval, depression suddenly came into view to port. The massive sinkhole had steep, nearly vertical sides, with vehicle paths carved into either end. As the Seiiki slid in over the middle of the southern end of the depression, they could see more detail below. There was a building that could’ve once been a residence, but had been blown open by an explosion and was never repaired. Behind it was a long building constructed of the same mud-bricks used for most of the structures on Haven. Along either side of the sinkhole, what looked to be storage spaces, equipment garages, and workshops, were all built into the depression’s steep sides.
“…here!” Josh finished. “Welcome to the Redmond molo farm.”
“That’s not a farm, it’s a dump!” Neli exclaimed.
“I didn’t say it was pretty,” Josh reminded her. “I said it was abandoned.”
“And for damned good reason, Josh,” Neli argued.
“I don’t know,” Captain Tuplo said, intrigued by the possibilities.
Neli’s eyes widened. “Cap’n, you can’t seriously be considering that we stay here. Look at it! The place looks like a war was fought here…and they lost! Hell, half the house is destroyed, and that looks like the wreckage of some kind of ship over there.”
“Hey, maybe we can salvage something from her,” Dalen suggested hopefully.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Captain Tuplo agreed.
“From that?” Neli couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“There’s a bunkhouse on the backside of the main house over there, Cap’n,” Josh said. “All this didn’t touch it, if I remember correctly.”
“You were here when all this happened?” Neli rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
“We’re burnin’ propellant just hoverin’ here, Cap’n,” Marcus reminded him. “We come all this way… Might as well set her down and take a look around.”
Captain Tuplo leaned forward, scanning the area for a good spot to land. He looked up at the sky for a moment, then back down to the left. “Think you can put her down over there?” he asked Josh, pointing to the left. “In between that wreckage and the sinkhole wall?”
“Sure, but why?” Josh wondered. “There’s tons of room over to starboard.”
“It’ll cut down the sensor angle from above. We’re pretty high up in latitude here. Between the ridge, and all that wreckage, we might go unnoticed from ships in standard orbit. Especially if we drag some of that wreckage around our ship. It’ll confuse the hell out of any sensors that can get an angle on us.”
“You got it, Cap’n.”
“You’re really thinkin’ of camping out here, aren’t you?” Neli said, disappointed.
“I’m not committing to any particular course of action just yet, Neli,” Captain Tuplo replied, annoyed by Neli’s complaints. “But if we do decide to stay, it would be stupid to waste more propellant re-parking the ship, now wouldn’t it?”
* * *
“Jump complete,” the Aurora’s navigator announced, as the blue-white flash from their jump dissipated.
“Starting sensor sweep along estimated course trajectory based on target’s last known course and speed,” Lieutenant Commander Kono reported from the sensor station.
“Commander Kaplan is in combat,” the comm officer updated.
“Threat board is clear,” Lieutenant Commander Vidmar reported from the tactical station.
“New message coming in from Cobra Three One Seven,” Ensign deBanco added. “They’ve had no more contacts since the last momentary detection they previously reported. They want to know if they should move the search grid further along the possible target’s estimated trajectory.”
“Tell them to stay on their current search grid,” Cameron instructed from her command chair. “We’ll continue the search along that trajectory.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Helm, turn us onto a parallel course with the target’s estimated trajectory,” the captain continued. “Mister Bickle, prepare to jump us ahead one light hour.”
“Altering course to parallel the tar
get,” Lieutenant Dinev acknowledged.
“Loading a one-light-hour jump.”
Cameron turned slowly to her left. “Anything?” she asked her sensor officer.
“Nothing yet, sir. But I’m only searching a narrow corridor along the contact’s last trajectory. I can widen the beam, but it will be less sensitive.”
“Negative,” Cameron replied.
“Course change complete,” the helmsman reported.
“Jump loaded and ready.”
“Jump us ahead, one light hour, Mister Bickle.”
“Jumping ahead, one light hour, in three……two……one……”
The jump flash translated through the Aurora’s semi-spherical main view screen that wrapped around the forward portion of her bridge, momentarily bathing them in a subdued, blue-white light.
“Jump complete,” the navigator finished.
“Hold course and speed, Lieutenant,” Cameron ordered.
“Holding course and speed, aye.”
Cameron sat confidently, watching the main view screen as if she knew what was about to happen. Even now, after all these years, she could still remember how Nathan always complained that the panoramic view offered by the Aurora’s wrap-around view screen served no real purpose in most situations, other than to impress visitors, and to remind them all that they were constantly hurtling through the most inhospitable environment to the human species. Such were the abstract observations of her long-lost friend, the man who, despite the fact that he had no more training or experience than she did when command had been thrust upon him, had ended up showing her exactly what it meant to be a leader.
“I’m picking up something,” Lieutenant Commander Kono announced tentatively. “Red-shifted…”
Cameron turned her head toward the lieutenant commander in anticipation.
“Gamma radiation… Same course and speed…” She turned toward Cameron. “That’s gotta be a Jung ship in FTL, Captain.”
“Position relative?”
“About three light minutes ahead of us, Captain,” the lieutenant commander replied, studying her sensor readings again. “Four light minutes to port, and two down relative. However, it may be more than one trail. The trace keeps changing shape. It may be multiple targets flying in close FTL formation.”