Four Tomorrows: A Space Opera Box Set

by James Palmer

  “I’m working as fast as I can, boss,” Chief Thomas said, his voice trailing off. “I’ll have partial speed in two minutes.”

  “We don’t have two minutes!” she shouted into the speaker mounted on the pilot station’s wall.

  “Tough!” With that, Harry Thomas severed communications with the bridge.

  Captain Harmon glared at the control board. Before this day is over, she planned on having a very long talk with Chief Engineer Harry Thomas.

  “Time?”

  Little more than a whisper, Lt. Andersen’s voice cut through the sizzle of fried wiring, the thrumming of the engines, and the loud rhythmic beating of every heart on the bridge.

  “Time’s up,” she said.

  Eyes wide with fear and horror, Virginia Harmon watched in utter awe as the hostile vessel plowed into the Space Lab’s outer hull, smashing its way further and further into the facility until it was gone from sight. The explosion that followed was small in the most scientific of terms, but the blast shook the new captain to her very core. The subsequent explosions in the secondary hull only added to the horror of the situation.

  And she knew in her gut that this was no accident.

  The attack on the station was nothing short of a deliberate act of sabotage. Try as she might, Captain Harmon could not stop the tears from coming, her training cast to the winds as human emotion filled her. Her heart went out to the dead and dying and she cursed herself for not being able to do more.

  If only there were something else she could do.

  “Wait a minute!”

  “Ma’am?” The young crewman manning the science console stammered. He looked as if he was about to pass out again, despite his intention to stay alert and in command of his body. She respected his professional drive.

  She herself wanted nothing more than to crawl under her console and cry. But that wouldn’t get the job done. She drew on the young man’s courage to strengthen her own. With a small amount of effort she loosened the straps and extricated herself from the pilot station. She emerged from the pit almost at a full run. At communications, Lt. Andersen looked at her, awaiting a command. Similarly, Lt. Allen and the science officer waited.

  Harmon held up a finger toward him. They looked at her in askance, curious about her. “I’ve got an idea,” the captain said, beaming.

  Allen could not help but smile as his new captain’s enthusiasm. Her earlier actions had left him feeling nervous about her ability to lead them. However, her control in the face of extraordinary danger had altered his opinion greatly. A burgeoning respect was growing. Add to the fact that the captain of a UPA starship was spouting orders while wearing a workout jumpsuit and her uniform jacket. It was a unique scene to be sure.

  Definitely a story to tell his friends about.

  The captain spoke quickly, but calmly. Before starting she stepped in close to the communication’s officer who had relocated to tactical. “What is your name again, Lieutenant?” She blushed as she asked. She should know every member of her crew by name at the very least. Silently she chided herself, promising to change things when this is over.

  If they survived.

  “It’s Allen, sir.” he said with a supportive wink. Her fears melted away knowing that they were ready to follow her. For a moment it almost felt as if Franklin Thorne were right there in the room. But, of course he wasn’t.

  “Well, Lt. Allen, I think its high time we earned our pay, don’t you?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Follow me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  17

  Space lab Science Station

  For the briefest of moments Cynthia Morgan thought they just might make it.

  The vessel was still approaching much too fast, but due to quick thinking on her part and by Lt. Sheron Vandrell, lives would be saved. She had given the order to evacuate the outer hull at the first sign of trouble. They had also contacted the starship Pegasus, which had been dry-docked at Bridger Corporation’s plant.

  The captain of the new ship broke almost every one of Bridger’s safety regulations to get her vessel out in time to save the Space Lab. Unfortunately, whoever was piloting the incoming vessel had been prepared for just such an occurrence.

  The first few wave bursts of radiation had been aimed directly at the space station’s outer shielding. It was a smart move, the scientist part of her brain acknowledged. Not only would the radiation work against their defenses, but it was also fatal to humans. That added a certain element of fear into the equation. When humans are scared, their emotions take over, often to the detriment of logical thinking. Fight or flight.

  The shields were not designed to encounter such massive impacts and they were failing fast.

  The arrival of the Pegasus had caused the renegade ship to change tactics, which added another piece to the puzzle. The ship was obviously manned. The enemy vessel’s weapon was brought to bear on the unsuspecting UPA ship. The radiation bursts doubled, then tripled in intensity as they pummeled the Pegasus, grinding the ship’s speed exponentially, eventually bringing it to a halt, stopping all forward momentum.

  The Pegasus was dead in space.

  However, even though they had failed to stop the attacking ship, the crew of the Pegasus had diverted their attention long enough for the majority of Space Lab’s staff out of the danger areas and into the core of the station where the hull was insulated against radiation. That also put her people closer to the escape pods and shuttles should the worst happen and they need to evacuate the station.

  The Pegasus had bought them the precious minutes they needed to make their escape. At present, time was proving to be a most crucial ally.

  Dr. Morgan suddenly found her plans for the future up in the air. After stopping the UPA ship, the incoming enemy vessel renewed its attack upon the station’s already weakened defenses. Within minutes the shields would fail completely. Not the best news one could receive, but it did leave her a few minutes for one last desperate shot.

  Once the shields failed there would be nothing between them and the radiation emanating from the ship. “Our options aren’t looking too bright, are they?” she asked.

  “No they aren’t,” Lt. Vandrell said, her eyes fixed on the screen in front of her.

  “What do you think?”

  “It’s your station, Doctor. Your call.”

  Her mind made up; Dr. Morgan leaned over to the intercom unit and fingered the appropriate switch that allowed her to speak to the entire station. “Attention!” She allowed a small second to adjust for feedback noise. “Attention!” she said again. “We have a dangerous situation. An unidentified ship has entered our space and will collide with this station in less than five minutes.”

  She paused, took a deep breath. “All personnel are hereby ordered to evacuate Space Lab immediately. This is not a drill.”

  She listened to the sounds of shock and the breaths let out by startled crew in Operations. She looked around at the faces, trying to memorize each and every one. Deep down she realized that there was every possibility that the owners of some of those faces would not survive what was coming. She knew that even she might not make it. Such was the price one paid to work in the wasteland. It was a price she had offered to pay the day she took command of Space Lab.

  “Lieutenant Vandrell, we’ve got to slow that thing down,” she said, pointing to the screen at the image of the unknown vessel bearing down on them. “We have to buy our people some time to reach the escape pods and get as far away from the station as possible.”

  “Understood,” replied the lieutenant. “Ensign Bailey.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Get down to the docking bays and help out Lt. Reynolds. He may have a panic on his hands before long.”

  “On my way.”

  The ensign departed from the Operation’s Center at a full run.

  Anxious, the lieutenant looked to Dr. Morgan. “Your orders, Doctor?”

  All eyes in O
perations were on her.

  “I’m open to suggestions.”

  “We nee to either stop that ship or make it veer off course.”

  “How, Lieutenant?”

  “I’m working on it, Doctor.”

  Cynthia Morgan has always prided herself on being an intellectual woman. Always questioning everything. As a scientist, it was her nature to take nothing at face value. She planned to use that scientific knowledge. There had to be an answer to this dilemma. If so, she would find it. If not, then she would go down fighting.

  “Okay,” she said, trying to stop her voice from quivering. “Lets see if the grapnels and tractor beams can slow it down now that it is closer.”

  Instantly, the Lieutenant is at her station. “That could work,” she replied after quickly inputting trajectory, speed, and angle into the launch system.

  Beginning the countdown for the grapnel launchers at three, Lt. Vandrell fired the grapnels and the tractor beams simultaneously when she reached one. The power to the beams showed full normal.

  For a moment, the energy signature remained perfect.

  Suddenly, the power to the tractor beams, the grapnels, and the elevators went out. Instantaneously and without warning, Space Lab went dark.

  “What happened?”

  “Someone has cut our power.” Lt. Vandrell checked the displays, frustrated when none of the consoles responded to her inquiries. “We are off line. Emergency power is coming on line now.”

  Small lights inset around the room kicked on, throwing a harsh white light across everything. They were just bright enough to allow the staff to see, but only just so. Deep shadows lined the walls, barely pushed back by the back up lights.

  “The timing of this is too much and I don’t believe in coincidences,” Dr. Morgan said. “Could we have been the victim of sabotage?”

  Before the Lieutenant could utter a reply, the incoming vessel crashed headlong through the outer shields, slamming into the docking pylon with a crash that reverberated throughout the entirety of the station. An eerie sensation to feel the sound rather than hear it. However, the full effect hit them moments later as the station tilted on its axis, tossing around anything not bolted down.

  The force of the collision threw about several crewmembers as the station rattled around them. Sparks let fly across ruined science stations. The emergency lights dimmed then brightened, only to go out completely a second later.

  A shower of sparks reflecting off smoke served as the only light in the Operation’s Center.

  Then came the explosion.

  The outer hull crumpled under the vessel’s impact as it rammed its way inside the perimeter of the crippled Space Lab. Alert claxons blared throughout the wounded station as oxygen was quickly sucked out into space and replaced by the vacuum. Three men and two women instantly lost their lives when a pressure seal ruptured in the quarters where they had taken refuge, blowing them out into space unprotected. The cold embrace of outer space claimed them.

  Mercifully, their deaths were quick.

  A cascade of explosions continued for several minutes as the station’s outer sections snapped apart like brittle limbs on a tree. Inside the station’s Operations Center, however, no one was conscious to do anything about it.

  James Silver slowly got to his feet.

  He grunted in pain as a spasm coursed through his back. A quick self-diagnosis confirmed that nothing was broken, although he was a bit battered from being thrown against a wall. Before the enemy vessel collided with the station, he had been helping his fellow scientists and their families board the escape pods. They had managed to get three pods to safety before the first impact.

  When the ship crashed through the docking pylon the lights flickered and slowly faded to nothing. The emergency lighting reserves kicked in after a few seconds, but all it could do was cast large shadows across a debris-laden hallway. This had the unintended side effect of slowing down the evacuation because of shadows cast about the floor. A stampede would have resulted in falls and trampled bodies.

  The explosions that followed the initial impact had not increased in intensity. Dr. Silver saw this as a good sign. Once the rumblings had stopped, he knew that the ship had come to a stop inside the space station’s outer ring. The damage had to be incredible, but he was a glass is half full kind of guy.

  Every dark cloud has a silver lining, as he was fond of saying. Although, generally when he used that liner it was generally in an attempt to get inside some woman’s pants, but it fit this moment as well. The fact that any of them were still alive was a miracle.

  And James ‘Silverfox’ Silver was a man who didn’t take miracles lightly. He was certainly not going to waste a perfectly good miracle like the one that had kept them alive thus far.

  Sparks rained down on the hallway outside of shuttle bay two. The smell of scorched wiring filled the open space while mingling with the scents from the collapsed section of the corridor wall. He had been in this very room earlier when he had arrived. Fear and anger washed over him as he clawed away thoughts of the past. Time to look at the here and now.

  Lives were in danger.

  Not the least of which, his own.

  There had been more than a few injuries among those boarding the escape pods, but surprisingly few fatalities. That in and of its self was somewhat miraculous. They had been lucky, but he suspected other sections of the station had not fared as well.

  Looking around, Dr. Silver took stock of who was there and what their specialties were. Weighing his options, he began issuing commands to those with medical skills. They each would do what they could for the injured, naturally, but without coordination and planning. By issuing them specific instructions, Dr. Silver gave them something to focus on as he prioritized their needs. Keeping them focused kept them too busy to panic.

  Once the medical issue was dealt with, Silver turned his focus on finding Lt. Reynolds.

  Reynolds had been in charge of the evacuation. In the melee after the impact, Dr. Silver lost track of the military officer. He did not see him anywhere.

  Starting a search, he moved through the debris. There were only so many places he could be. Unfortunately, he did not have to search very long.

  All that could be seen of the UPA officer was his left arm sticking out from beneath a section of collapsed bulkhead. Dr. Silver ran to his side, quickly checking his pulse, verifying his fear that the man was already dead.

  Probably a blessing in disguise as the security officer’s injuries had been severe, fatal. Silver guessed that he had died instantly when the bulkhead collapsed on top of him.

  Taking his cue from Reynold’s earlier actions, Dr. Silver moved to the nearest communication junction. Not an easy task with the passageway blocked by twisted metal railings and rubble from a demolished section of the bulkhead, but after a few minutes and much awkward footing, he reached the terminal.

  He tapped the comm pad and uttered a quick prayer of thanks when the green light showed brightly in the darkness.

  “It works!” he shouted to the others and was answered by a chorus of cheers. Then he entered the command for the control center. “Operations, this is James Silver at the docking bay.”

  He waited for a response, but only silence answered.

  “I say again, this is James Silver. We have wounded at the docking bays. We need some help down here!”

  The seconds ticked off for what seems an eternity. The light static on the comm pad signaled that there was either no power on the other end or...

  “They’re all dead!” a woman in the crowd screamed. “Forget them!”

  “No!” He refused to believe it. “We survived. I cannot take the chance that they are still alive up there and abandon them. I won’t do it!”

  The woman started crying.

  “Would you want me to leave you if I wasn’t sure?” he asked, trying to calm her down. “We need to get everyone inside the shuttles. Maybe we can still get you folks to safety.”

 
; There were no more cries of frustration or desperation. Just a group of stunned faces. As scientists, these people dealt with theory in controlled atmospheres. There was little about their present situation that was under any semblance of control.

  Dr. Silver’s words helped some of the others as well and they all turned to him as if he were their defacto leader. “What say we get you folks out of here?” he asked as he ushered them into the escape shuttle.

  Within the short span of ten minutes all nonessential personnel were evacuated from Space Lab in the escape pods and shuttles. Silver watched as the escaping shuttles fired their retrorockets and sped away from the station at varying angles and trajectories. Fortunately, there were no enemy vessels outside to shoot them down. There was no longer an enemy at their gates.

  The enemy was inside with them.

  “At least they’ll get away,” Dr. Silver said to no one in particular. One of the men in the small contingent that refused to leave any of their fellow crew aboard answered with a yelp of joy.

  “Thank God,” the highest ranking security officer of the group said. He was young, but appeared very capable. He had arrived on the scene just in time to see his superior officer crushed by a collapsing wall.

  Dr. Silver had noted how easily the young man had taken command when his squad leader had been buried under the rubble of the collapsed bulkhead. The young man, his name was Bailey the doctor believed, but was unsure of the man’s rank as his rank insignia had been lost in the cave in and search.

  After securing the survivors in the shuttles Dr. Silver announced his intention to stay and help the remaining crew still trapped aboard Space Lab. He refused to believe that everyone else could have perished. He said as much to the group that volunteered to stay and help him. All total, there were four security officers, two scientists, one doctor, one nurse, and Dr. Silver.

  Doctor Silver uncomfortably noticed that each of them was looking his way for guidance. He knew they stayed because of him, because he was staying and would need help. It stood to reason that they thought he had a plan.