A Galaxy Unknown

by Thomas DePrima

  "Do you mean, ‘Will they open fire as soon as they see us?'" Jenetta shook her head. "I don't know."

  "What will you do if they do open fire as soon as they see us?"

  Jenetta chuckled. "Run like hell, just like any other sane person."

  "You won't order us to fire on them?"

  "Fire on another Space Command vessel? Never!"

  "But you asked me if I'd do it if ordered to?"

  "I wanted to know where you stood. Your answer told me."

  Michaels stared at Jenetta for at least ten seconds before responding. "Gunny Rondell is right. You are good."

  Jenetta grinned. "Thank you Commander Michaels, that means a lot coming from you."

  "You're welcome, Captain."

  * * *

  One day before arriving at Vinnia, Jenetta ordered the convoy to halt so she could transfer all non-essential personnel to the Vordoth. Most balked at leaving, even after she explained that she had received mixed signals from Space Command and that they were being transferred for their own safety. In the end, they followed her orders because they knew she was just looking out for their welfare. The only duty personnel left aboard the Prometheus and Chiron were the guards needed to watch the prisoners, a few people needed to prepare food, a small group in Engineering, and two shifts of bridge staff. The enormous ships really did take on the look and feel of ghost ships.

  Jenetta sent two of the Raider provided shuttles and one of the Raider tugs over to the Vordoth to make up for the lost tug, cargo containers, and Corplastizine. The value of the three small craft easily exceeded the value of the lost equipment and cargo.

  * * *

  Since Galactic Alliance regulations prohibit the use of Faster Than Light speeds by any inbound ship closer than four-billion kilometers to a space station, or a planet with approach control, Jenetta ordered her three ships to drop their light speed envelopes and continue on at the maximum allowable speed of Sub-Light-100 when they reached that point. Where they could have reached Higgins Space Station in less than two minutes at the Vordoth's maximum speed, it would instead take them eleven-point-one hours to reach the station at one-hundred-thousand kps. Exceptions to the rule could be requested of, and approved by, the senior officer in the GSC approach control center, but Jenetta felt that a nervous command structure would be assuaged by her maintaining strict adherence to the normal rules of traffic safety at this point.

  At fifty-million-kilometers out, Jenetta ordered her ships to reduce speed to the required pattern maximum of Sub-Light-10. As the Prometheus slowed to just ten-thousand kps, the com operator contacted the spaceport for approach control instructions, while the Chiron and the Vordoth did the same. At this distance, communication was naturally instantaneous, and the controller gave each a precise approach vector that had them align one behind the other with the Prometheus in the lead, followed by the Chiron next, and then the Vordoth.

  Gunny Rondell was manning the tactical station for the approach to the spaceport. "Captain, I'm picking up ten warships ahead."

  "Blocking our path?"

  "Negative, Captain. They're five kilometers on either side of our approach vector. The computer identifies them as a battleship, two cruisers, two frigates, and five destroyers. Aligned in staggered order, they're maintaining a ship separation of one-thousand kilometers along our track, just beyond the leading edge of the inner pattern at ten thousand kilometers, where we're required to reduce speed again."

  "Nine-thousand kilometers of warships," Jenetta said thoughtfully. "Quite a welcoming committee."

  "If this is a trap," Lt. Commander Michaels, who was manning the helm, said, "they're going to have us cold. Do we proceed, or run for it now?"

  Jenetta didn't respond right away.

  "Captain?" Michaels said questioningly.

  Jenetta still didn't answer. Her mind was racing as she weighed the options. If they ran now, the Space Command vessels would be on their six immediately. The Prometheus and Chiron, each with a top speed of Light-375, could most likely outrun every ship facing them, but Jenetta knew that running would also end any chances of returning to a Space Command base. They'd definitely be branded as Raiders because of their action, and every ship and base in Galactic Alliance space would be alerted to watch for them, with orders to attack them on sight. The Vordoth was only capable of achieving Light-150, and a lot of innocent people aboard the freighter could be killed in the crossfire if the Prometheus either deviated from its approach vector or began to build a FTL envelope, actions that the Space Command vessels would interpret as hostile.

  "Captain?" Michaels said again, a little louder. "What should I do?" he added, with urgency in his voice.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ~ January 3rd, 2268 ~

  "Proceed on course," Jenetta said soberly. "Slow to Plus-100 at the inner pattern marker— but be prepared to get us out of here fast if they open fire."

  "Aye, Captain."

  The bridge became deathly silent as the Prometheus moved closer and closer to the first warship. The bridge crew had been informed that Higgins might suspect the ship was commanded by Raiders looking for an opportunity to attack the station, despite the fact that Jenetta had identified herself repeatedly. It seemed as if everyone was holding their breath, and some probably were.

  Time seemed to slow down immeasurably as they came within energy weapon range of the first ship, the GSC Battleship Thor, poised off their larboard bow. While the hatch covers over the phased array lasers and torpedo tubes of the Prometheus were closed and locked, the Thor's hatches were wide open and its arrays extended. Although the Thor's laser arrays were probably smaller than the hundred-gigawatt lasers of the Prometheus or Chiron, even a ten-gigawatt array could perforate reinforced tritanium armor like a micro-meteor punching through two 100-mil layers of ordinary aluminum. And one thing was certain; the Thor's lasers were definitely a lot more powerful than a mere ten-gigawatts.

  All eyes were glued to the front monitor, watching for any sign that this was a trap. If it was, then the Prometheus was as good as dead. No ship practically empty of personnel would last long under the barrage that this armada could unleash. Jenetta castigated herself mentally for her thoughts. She told herself that if they intended to fire they would never have let her get this close to the station. She just had to calm her nerves and ride it out.

  Ten seconds later they slid silently past the Thor, without incident, and everyone exhaled and started breathing a little easier. After passing the second ship without drawing any fire, everyone relaxed noticeably. If the GSC warships were going to open fire first, they should have done so by then.

  "The battleship is falling into line behind the Vordoth, Captain," Gunny said from the tactical station. "There's no doubt they were waiting out there for us. I could practically feel the fingers of their gunners tightening on triggers as we passed under their guns."

  "You and me both, Gunny, but I think we've passed the first test."

  As they came within visual sight of the base, the ship was contacted by the docking controller and they received their dock assignment. The massive space station, floating in synchronous orbit above the planet Vinnia, dwarfed the enormous battleships. Easily visible to the naked eye from the planet below, the station resembled an oval-cut, blue opal gemstone, surrounded by a sixty-kilometer silver necklace. The necklace, of course, was the docking ring, where dozens of massive ships could be docked with the station simultaneously. Roadway tunnels, connecting the base to the docking ring, appeared like spokes in a wheel.

  Michaels, with months of practice at the helm, had a deft touch on the controls and completed the dock and lock maneuver on the first attempt. Pressurizing the airlock once the ship was securely locked in place, the port's dock master tested and certified the seal before the airlock was opened to traffic. The ten Space Command warships that followed the three ships in, took up positions behind the Prometheus and Chiron, cutting off escape, in case all was stil
l not as it seemed. The Vordoth was assigned a spot in parking orbit where it was in full view of the station's guns. Its six-kilometer long cargo section prohibited it from docking with the station.

  Jenetta, Lt. Commander Michaels, and Gunny met at the forward cargo-bay airlock entrance, and Gunny began the process that would cycle the enormous hatch. It was no more than halfway open when two platoons of Marines began pouring into the bay, weapons at the ready but not pointed as they surrounded the three. A Marine major entered the ship last and calmly walked to the group. He faced Jenetta, staring at her face and uniform intently for a several seconds.

  Jenetta knew from her years of training that she should immediately salute a superior officer, but an officer entering a ship is required to salute the officer of the deck first, identify himself, and ask permission to enter the ship. The fact that she was wearing insignia that indicated she was the ranking officer never entered her mind.

  The Marine Major interrupted the awkward silence by saluting and then saying, "Major Ian Schoonmaker, Captain. Permission to come aboard?"

  Although they were already aboard, and obviously in command of the situation, Jenetta returned his salute and said, "Permission granted, Major."

  "I have orders to take charge of your prisoners."

  "Of course, Major. Gunny Rondell will escort your men to the cargo bays that we've been using as detention centers. The majority of our prisoners are located there, but we also have prisoners in our brig."

  Major Schoonmaker turned to look at Gunny, who was wearing one of the simulated Space Command noncom uniforms with Gunnery Sergeant insignia, rather than a more correct Space Marine noncom uniform. Gunny immediately snapped to attention and saluted as Major Schoonmaker took in the unusual uniform configuration with narrowed eyes. Space Command did not have Gunnery Sergeants. That was strictly a Space Marine rank.

  "Master Gunnery Sergeant Rondell, Major. Galactic Space Marine Corps, retired. I apologize for the confused appearance of my uniform, sir. Our clothing choices were limited on this voyage."

  Apparently deciding that he should return the salute, the major followed proper protocol before saying, "At ease, Gunny. I understand about the uniform." Turning to one of his officers, Major Schoonmaker said, "Captain Willsie, follow Gunny Rondell and take charge of his prisoners." Turning back to Jenetta and Lt. Commander Michaels, he said, "I also have orders to take charge of you and your first officer, Captain. I have a vehicle waiting. You're to come with me."

  Jenetta nodded and led the way into the airlock ramp as Major Schoonmaker stepped aside. At the end of the ramp, an open-topped general-purpose military vehicle was waiting. Jenetta climbed into the right front seat of the driverless vehicle while the Major climbed into the left front and Michaels climbed into a rear seat. As soon as they were seated, the Major said, "Base hospital, depart." The driverless vehicle rose slightly, retracted its landing pads, and drove off on a cushion of ‘oh-gee' waves. A second vehicle, with four armed marines, followed close behind.

  As the gp came to a halt in front of the hospital and lowered its pads, Major Schoonmaker jumped out and waited for Jenetta and the Lt. Commander to follow him. Separated as they entered the hospital, Jenetta and Michaels were taken to different wards. Jenetta was escorted into a large examination room where a Space Command Officer, rather than a doctor, was waiting. Seated on the padded ‘oh-gee' examination table, he was holding a portable viewpad. Jenetta immediately came to attention.

  "At ease Captain Carver," the brown-haired officer with piercing steel-grey eyes said. "I'm Commander Kanes of SCI."

  Jenetta had already noted the Space Command Intelligence insignia on his collar. "It's Ensign Carver, sir."

  "I know. You've been kicking up quite a bit of space dust, Carver. Supreme Headquarters is anxious to learn how in the hell a junior officer, that supposedly died eleven years ago, can come to be in command of two, brand new, stolen, GSC battleships."

  "That part is fairly simple, sir. I was captured by the Raiders and commandeered the battleships during my escape."

  "You just found the ships at a Raider base, eh? And I suppose the Raiders obligingly turned their backs while you took them out for a test flight?"

  "Not quite, Commander. We had to seize control of the ships, and we barely escaped with our lives. We brought back over nine-hundred-thirty Raider crewmembers that were manning the ships when we seized them."

  Commander Kanes stared coolly at Jenetta. "And just who is we?"

  "We is me, sir, and the fifty other slaves that chose to join me."

  "Slaves?"

  "We were all slaves, or captives, if you prefer, sir. The Raiders were sending the women to brothels, once their mind conditioning was complete, and the men were intended for hard labor slave camps throughout the galaxy."

  "So you, and fifty civilians, including a bunch of women, just walked on board and commandeered two highly sophisticated GSC battleships and brought them back to us?"

  "Essentially, sir, but your description only captures the bare essence of the action. A dozen of the Raider captives were former freighter officers or bridge crewmen, so they were fully capable of handling the duties that I assigned them. We entered the Chiron through subterfuge in the middle of the night, and then divided into the three assault groups I'd previously established. We simultaneously attacked the bridge, engineering section, and crew quarters. The takeovers only took a matter of minutes. The first assault went so well that I made a decision to take the Prometheus as well."

  The commander raised his eyebrows in seeming disbelief and stared at Jenetta for a few seconds. She didn't sound anything like the indecisive individual her file described her to be. "Tell me about this Raider base. Where is it?"

  "Well— it was in sector 8667-3855-1639.5273 ante-median 0196, but it doesn't exist any more."

  "Oh, they packed up and left after you escaped?"

  "No sir. It sort of––," Jenetta took a deep breath and exhaled before completing her sentence, "blew up."

  "Blew up? It just sort of blew up?"

  "Well— I guess that I blew it up, sir. I think that the eight-hundred metric tons of Corplastizine that I planted in their storage depot was responsible."

  Commander Kanes went wide-eyed for a few seconds and he sat up a little straighter. "Eight-hundred tons of Corplastizine? I should say that it blew up. You could have destroyed several small moons with that much Corplastizine, Ensign."

  "Well, I had to use that much because we didn't have any dithulene-35 to use as a catalyst. My chief engineer aboard the Vordoth synthesized a substitute, but we expected the detonation to be low yield without the proper catalytic formulation."

  "But it was adequate to destroy this alleged space port?"

  "Apparently sir. The torpedoes might have helped."

  "You fired torpedoes at the station?"

  "No sir. The explosion was quite sufficient."

  "Wait a second. You just said that you used torpedoes."

  "Oh, yes, I did. I didn't fire the torpedoes, sir. They were included in the cargo containers with the Corplastizine. Charley, uh, Lieutenant Moresby, the Vordoth's chief engineer, rigged a remote detonator to blow them. He'd told me that the synthesized catalyst would only detonate the surface material of the Corplastizine, rather than commencing the normal cascading effect. I felt that by exploding the torpedoes we'd provide a much greater surface area of Corplastizine for the catalyst. But I was only expecting a diversion, sir. Since the cavern area wasn't pressurized, I never anticipated that the space station would be destroyed. However, with only a narrow tunnel available for the escape of blast effect gases, I suppose that the magnitude of the resulting explosion could have been responsible. Or possibly the explosion damaged one or more vessels and the destruction of their power systems or anti-matter containment created a sort of cascading effect of its own. Each ship might have caused another ship parked nearby to explode and so on. In any event— it's gone, sir."

  Captain Kanes
sucked in a deep breath and exhaled it. "I see. Tell me about this space station, Ensign."

  "It was constructed inside a hollowed out asteroid, with enormous doors on the entrance that could be closed if anyone came near, rendering the base effectively invisible. Before we escaped, I downloaded everything that I could from the spaceport's central computer."

  "And where is that information?"

  Jenetta reached into her pocket and produced the tiny box of data rings. "Right here, sir. I could only find eight low-density rings in the detention center, so I was only able to save 800 Terabytes of data. But I made sure that the files were from the most secure directories in the system." Jenetta handed the box to the Commander.

  "Okay, Ensign, we'll see what you have here. We're also going to check the computer on the ship to see what was recorded in its logs."

  "There should be complete image logs showing the interior of the spaceport, and I know that you'll find an image log of the spaceport blowing up. It was quite spectacular, sir."

  "No doubt. We'll be talking again, Ensign, I'm sure."

  Commander Kanes hopped off the examination table, walked to the door, and opened it. A doctor stood waiting just outside, with the two marine guards that had followed Jenetta to the room.

  "She's all yours, Doc," Kanes said as he left.

  The doctor, a thin, slightly balding man of about fifty years with a friendly lop-sided smile, came in, closing the door behind him.

  "Good afternoon, uh, Captain. I'm Doctor Freidlander."

  "Hello, Doctor Freidlander. I'm Ensign Jenetta Carver."

  "But you're wearing captain's bars."

  "It's a long story, sir. I'm just an ensign again, now that I've left the ship."

  "I see," the doctor said as he used a stylus to make notes on an electronic clipboard. "Remove your tunic, blouse, trousers, and footwear please."

  Jenetta unbuttoned her tunic and turned around to hang it on a coat hook as she removed it, then stripped to her underwear. She had resumed wearing regulation-style, cotton underwear the day before.