A Galaxy Unknown

by Thomas DePrima

  As soon as he was free, Leggmann took up where he'd left off, but having been incarcerated once for arson and murder, the cops were quick to identify him as their number one suspect. Leggmann knew he had to clear out or wind up in prison again. Fortunately for him, there are always people who need a good psychopath on their payroll, and Leggmann had no difficulty finding gainful and self-gratifying employment. When the organization of the loan shark and smuggler for whom he'd been working was absorbed by the giant Raider organization, Leggmann found new opportunities to explore his proclivities. Although some of his associates thought at first that his nickname referred to his beak-like nose, it was in reality a reference to his societal propensities.

  Leggmann wasn't really trying to do any real damage to the Vordoth— yet. In fact, he was under strict orders not to cause any serious damage. Captain Goshan wanted the cargo section intact and had even ordered all rockets be removed from the fighters prior to this mission. Leggmann was only trying to panic the freight haulers with a few insipid hits. He reasoned that the more nervous they were, the less likely they were to damage any of his squadron. But in a few more minutes he would reach the main ship and then he would show them what damage really was. If he could punch enough holes to evacuate their atmosphere, the fight would be over before it really began. You can't fight when you're sucking vacuum.

  "Vulture One to Vulture flock. As soon as we reach the main ship, target their sub-light engines. Then fill that ship with so many holes it'll look like that old dartboard in the ship's canteen. Vulture One out."

  Leggmann felt only a slight tickle in his ribs as several powerful pulses of coherent light punctured the unarmored sidewall of the fighter cockpit, just below his armpits. He never even knew he was dead. The smirking grin was still on his face as the top half of his body began to topple. His final seconds of thought were devoted to wondering why he seemed to be bending forward. As his upper torso landed at his feet, his detached arms were only slowly beginning to yield their tight grip on the joystick and throttle controls.

  * * *

  Jenetta knew she had scored a kill when the fighter suddenly veered to starboard and corkscrewed away from the freighter. Even the weapons computer acknowledged that it was no longer a serious threat. When the blip representing that target winked out, a loud cheer went up behind her. Jenetta immediately shifted the targeting control towards another blip, tracked the target, got a lock, and fired again. Almost instantly, that blip disappeared from the screen as well, followed by another loud cheer. Her third shot went marginally wide as the small enemy ship zigzagged just as she fired, but her next burst caught it dead center and the blip winked out as a fuel cylinder was breached and the small ship took on the appearance of a diminutive sun for the briefest of seconds. Her new cheering section let out another whoop before turning their attention back to the other gunner.

  The remaining three fighters must have realized that the starboard side had suddenly become the more deadly of the two because they limited their flight to the area her arrays couldn't target. They also increased their evasive maneuvers, which thankfully further slowed their forward progress.

  Jenetta watched anxiously as the crewman controlling the larboard weapons failed to get a lock on his targets and just fired randomly as fast as he could pull the trigger. As she rolled her eyes, her gaze flitted across a master switch that swapped control of the guns. Designed to allow either console to take over for the other in the event of an equipment malfunction, the switch offered her an opportunity to supplant the other gunner without again resorting to physical means.

  The three remaining fighters were just seconds from the main ship when Jenetta reached up and flipped the switch, giving her control of the larboard weapons. Totally absorbed in his task when the images on the screens swapped, the crewman at the left station just stared dumbly at the blank screen in front of him and tried to figure out what happened to his targets while Jenetta got a lock on the lead fighter and fired. And it took just a few more seconds for her to destroy the other two attacking small craft. All those years of playing the video game she carried on her log ring hadn't been a waste of time after all.

  As the last blip winked out on the targeting screens, the bridge erupted in cheers. Jenetta slumped in the chair as the adrenaline drained from her system. She only became aware that Gloria was standing directly behind her when she felt hands on her shoulders.

  "Great shooting, Jen," Gloria said breathlessly. "Six kills. Thank God you were here."

  Suddenly remembering the crewman that she had plucked by his collar so unceremoniously and ignominiously, Jenetta looked up at the people surrounding her. Now standing near her right side, the ejected gunner smiled ingenuously at her and gave her a thumbs-up sign. She'd expected to see resentment for her action in his eyes, but she saw nothing but genuine relief. She smiled and returned his sign, then turned to the crewman in the chair next to her and said, "I'm sorry that I took over your console. There wasn't time to ask politely."

  "Ensign, I'm just relieved to have survived the attack. I couldn't seem to hit even one of those bastards. I thought we were all dead meat for sure. You can take over for me anytime. That was great shooting, by the way. Maybe you could give me some pointers when you have a chance?"

  "I'd be happy to," Jenetta said, smiling, and with a profound sense of relief that that she hadn't destroyed the new friendships that she'd been cultivating with the bridge crewmembers.

  "Okay, everyone, calm down," Gloria announced, "this isn't over yet. Let's get busy and find out what kind of shape we're in. Someone turn off the damn red alert lighting, and please, somebody find the captain and get him up here."

  The communications operator called out, "Lieutenant, the chief engineer is waiting to speak with you."

  "Put it through to the captain's briefing room. Jen, uh— come with me."

  With Sabella leading the way, the two women crossed to the captain's briefing room on the larboard side of the bridge. As the doors quietly slid closed behind them, the red alert lights stopped flashing and the horns wailing in the ship's corridors ended their plaintive yowls. The chief engineer's face immediately filled the screen when Gloria raised the cover on the captain's desktop com unit.

  "How bad is it, Charley?" Gloria asked.

  "The bastards hit us hard, Gloria!" Charley said, his face ablaze with anger. "We lost the last two cargo link-sections and we have some serious damage along the spine. A number of containers were hit. Two are spilling contents. The only way to stop the spill may be to bring the ship to a stop."

  "We can't stop, Charley. Engage their grav decking. That will stop the spillage."

  "I've already ordered that for all damaged containers. The two still leaking cargo must have sustained damage to their ship connections or control systems. We have to plug the holes."

  "See if you can get me a list of the containers that are spilling so I can see what we're losing. Uh— Charley, is the captain with you? He went out to the aft gun section a while ago?"

  "He's not with us." There was a slight pause and a much calmer and somber Charley said, "I was in the sack when the red alert sounded. If the captain was still in the aft link when the fighters struck, then he's gone, along with anyone else that was back there with him."

  Following a sharp intake of breath, Gloria leaned heavily on the desk and said, "Thank you, Charley. Keep me inform-ed as you get any new information. Sabella out."

  Gloria's face was ashen. The change that had come over her in just seconds was astonishing.

  "We're in trouble," Gloria said weakly. "Without the captain, we're doomed."

  The utter despair in Gloria's voice was obvious, and she had begun to tremble all over.

  "You're just giving up?" Jenetta asked. "Without a fight?"

  "I'm not a fighter, Jen, I'm a freight hauler. I don't know what to do next. Hell, I didn't know what to do before, when the fighters attacked. If I hadn't been needed to work at resetting the ACS, I would pro
bably have run from the bridge. I was that scared."

  "Whatever you do," Jenetta said with a calm and steady voice, "don't let the crew see you like this. They have to believe that you know exactly what you're doing at all times— even if you don't. Their courage comes from their captain, so you must have enough for everybody."

  "Me? Captain?" Gloria said incredulously.

  "Yes, you're the first officer. That makes you the captain now that he's gone."

  "No," Gloria said, shaking her head vehemently. "No, I can't. I can't. I shouldn't even be out here. I should be aboard some nice large freighter with a full crew, sitting safely in a protected convey. I was taking on as much as I could chew just by being the first officer. Before this trip, I was just a third. I'd never even had the watch before this run. The only reason that I'm the first officer is because the senior officers all refused to go and they couldn't find anyone else dumb enough to accept the berth." Gloria had been looking down at the floor while she spoke. Suddenly looking up, she said eagerly, "You! You could do it. You're a trained Space Command officer. You've been trained to command a ship and crew in battle. You can get us through this. You'll have to take over for the captain."

  Gloria was trembling more visibly now. Jenetta had heard that it was like that with some people. After the shooting was over, and the realization of what had just happened dawned, they came down with the shakes. It wasn't something that you typically saw following battle simulations, because subconsciously everyone knew that their lives weren't on the line, regardless of how realistic the simulation appeared.

  Out here though, lives depended on the captain's ability to make the right decisions at the right instant, and it was obvious that Gloria wouldn't be the effective leader that was needed right now. Nor did Jenetta think that either the Doctor or Charley would want to accept command since neither was particularly qualified to step in, despite their tenure and rank. Fortunately, Gloria had displayed a brave front to the crew during the action, and there was no one else in the briefing room to see her deteriorating condition. But the Raiders could return at any time. Nobody knew how many there were, and the group that had attacked might have only been an advance party.

  "Gloria, I'm just an ensign," Jenetta said in protest. "I've never commanded a ship. I'm a science officer; an astrophysicist."

  "But you've received training for ship command, haven't you? And participated in battle simulations as the commanding officer?"

  "Well, yes, I've received the standard three-year NHSA command officer training. But I've never actually been in a battle before."

  "Neither have I. And I haven't had three years of training for it either. You're our only hope."

  As a very young girl, Jenetta had dreamed of traveling through space as the captain of a powerful warship. But being the smallest and weakest participant in a seemingly never-ending round of fiercely competitive games while growing up, it was rare when she was able to top her four brothers. She had become quite used to being cast in a supporting role, perhaps even comfortably so, rather than as the leader. Her scholastic achievements had done little to erase diffidence in her adequacy for command.

  Her days as a member of the Vordoth crew, without any real responsibility, had been one of the most wonderful times in her life. She no more desired to take command now than she wished to become infected with a three-month bout of Kuwloon Flu. In fact, the mere thought of becoming captain made her stomach roil. But— with the Captain gone, and Gloria seemingly unable to continue in command, there was no one else. Meek surrender to the Raiders was not an option. She swallowed hard and made her decision.

  "Okay— if that's what you really want," Jenetta said. She expected to feel sicker when she said it, but she actually felt better. "But I need you to get a grip on yourself. I'll need a good first officer, and you're it. Now take a few deep breaths and stop shaking."

  Gloria's face registered shock as she looked down at her hands. Until then she hadn't realized that she was shaking. Clasping her hands together tightly, she took several deep breaths, seeming to calm a bit more with each now that the question of command had been settled.

  "Good," Jenetta said. "That's better. Now put on as confident a face as you can and go out onto the bridge. You're presently the senior officer of this ship. You'll have to notify the crew that I'm accepting command at your request."

  Gloria nodded. Taking one more deep breath, she composed her face, then led the way out of the office and over to the crewman that was manning the communications station. "I have an announcement for the entire crew," she said assertively. "Put me on all shipboard speakers."

  "Aye, Lieutenant." The crewman said, before tapping some points on the communications console and handing her a tiny wireless microphone. "Whenever you're ready, Lieutenant."

  "Attention all crewmembers, this is Lieutenant Sabella. First the good news. The six Raider fighters that attacked us have been destroyed, and there's no sign of others at this moment." She paused for a couple of seconds, allowing a little time for celebration. "I also have some terrible news to convey. It appears that Captain Lentz has been lost, along with whoever might have been with him in the aft laser section when the Raiders struck. We all mourn this loss, and we will carry on with the certain knowledge that he would have been proud of us. We are fortunate to have Ensign Carver on board. It was she that saved our skins by shooting down all six attacking Raider fighters. As you know, Ensign Carver is a Space Command officer, trained at NHSA. Her military training includes ship command under battle conditions and I've decided that that makes her the best candidate to assume command of this ship. She has consented to become our Captain. Captain Carver?"

  Jenetta had been silently rehearsing what she would say. Taking the small microphone, she forced her voice to sound clear, calm, and confident. "This is Carver." She wasn't yet willing to use the title of captain. "Until we're out of danger, we'll operate as if this is a military ship. We need complete damage reports as quickly as possible. And if there are any former military people with gunnery experience aboard, report to me on the bridge. Carry on. Carver out."

  She had an overwhelming urge to take a deep breath, but she knew that it might conflict with the image she was attempting to convey. She calmly handed the mike back to the com operator and turned to the crewman manning the security station, "Any sign of other vessels?"

  "Negative, Ens— Captain. The plot is clear."

  Turning to the crewman at the science console, she asked, "What's our distance to the objects responsible for disengaging the Light Speed drive?"

  "They're gone, Captain. The contacts disappeared right after the six fighters were destroyed."

  "Disappeared? Completely?"

  "Aye, Captain. One second a seemingly solid barrier of obstructions stretched for thousands of kilometers across our bow, and the next they were gone. There's no trace of them left."

  Jenetta stared at the large front viewscreen as she thought, then said to the communications crewman, "Any reports yet from damage control parties?"

  Holding out a portable viewpad, the female crewmember said, "Here's everything so far, Captain."

  Jenetta scrolled down the list of damages that had been reported. Items were still coming in and the list was being updated as she watched, but so far, the most serious ship damage seemed to be the loss of the aft laser array section and two cargo link-sections. Two crewmembers, Deitrich and Higgiby, were unaccounted for, in addition to the captain, and two others were injured, but not critically.

  As soon as the new ‘captain' called for former military people with gunnery experience, Chief Rondell headed for the bridge. He stepped in front of her while she was still scanning the data on the viewpad. She was so absorbed in what she reading that she didn't immediately acknowledge his presence. Although he hadn't talked to her previously, he'd been in the maintenance bay the day she came aboard and he'd seen her jogging in the ‘tunnel' a number of times. He also knew of her kick boxing training, and that sh
e'd shown she wasn't afraid to mix it up with people whose skill level was far above her own in order to learn and improve. And once, when he hadn't been able to get back to sleep after waking too early, he'd caught sight of her flying down the maglev sled track at top speed. There was only one thing about her that bothered him; she looked like a ‘snot nosed' Academy cadet. The facts proved there was more in that diminutive package than outside appearances indicated, but if she hadn't just shot down all six fighters that attacked the ship, he still might find it difficult to take orders from her.

  As Jenetta finished reading the list and lowered the viewpad, she realized that a crewman was standing in front of her.

  Bracing to attention, he said, "Senior Freight Operations Chief Rondell, Captain. Thirty-eight years in the Galactic Space Marine Corps. Most of that as a Master Gunnery Sergeant."

  Standing about six-foot four-inches tall with a close-cropped haircut, Gunny Rondell looked exactly like you'd expect a Space Marine gunnery sergeant to look. And despite the early signs of a budding beer-gut at fifty-six, he was still able to handle any three ordinary men stupid enough to take him on.