Space Cruiser Musashi: a space opera novel

by Dean Chalmers

  Sivarek ran his hand up along the top of the relay.

  “Yes you could do that, um… Not hard at all here.” He opened a tiny panel and he pressed several small switches inside. He closed it up back again. “Good to go.”

  “Man,” Joachim said, “You just know machines like the back of your hand, don’t you? You're tuned in to everything. I'd love to be like you.”

  “Well,” Sivarek said, “the Engineers’ training is kind of lonely… and then you, uh, end up looking funny all your life, and have ports in your head.”

  Joachim laughed. “I've always looked funny anyway.”

  “Where are your torpedoes?” Sivarek asked.

  “Oh, back here. The munition storage space is off the engine room.”

  Joachim led him back into a small chamber, where thick tubes on either wall held the torpedoes.

  He entered a code into an antique-style keypad, pulled back a manual locking device, and opened the top of one of the tubes—where ten black, cone-shaped torpedoes sat in a row, waiting to be deployed.

  Sivarek removed a tool from his belt and began to open a panel at the top of each torpedo.

  “I don’t really mess with those,” Joachim said. “What are you doing?”

  Sivarek held up the somewhat threatening black nano-container that he'd retrieved from Doctor Xon. He placed it to the opening of the panel of the first torpedo. He pressed some buttons on the cylinder; making sure that he administered just the right amount of the nanos through the magnetic safety filter.

  “I'm adding a supplemental payload,” he said. “These old-style fission torpedoes can accommodate that.”

  “What is that stuff?” Joachim asked. “Doc back there seemed pretty freaked out about it, said to be careful. What does it do?”

  “If it got on us,” Sivarek explained, “it would dissolve our bodies in seconds.”

  “What?”

  “It's true,” Sivarek said. “It attacks human DNA; dissolves it.”

  “But how's that supposed to help us with the Valorians?” Joachim asked, confused.

  “The Valorians have human DNA built into all their tech,” Sivarek explained. He moved on to another torpedo to give it a bit of the deadly nano-payload as well.

  “The structure of most of their tech is some sort of alien biological material, almost like, um, adaptive viruses. What holds it together—the stuff that allows the human-descended Valorians to interact with it—is actually human DNA. And that should make them vulnerable, in theory. Launch one of these at a Valorian ship and the hull should melt right off. Well… like I said… in theory, anyway.”

  “Well, it’s worth something isn’t it?” Joachim said. “I want to get those bastards. I saw what they did to the ladies back there. Do you really think this old ship can take them on?”

  Sivarek shrugged. “I can only say that my ship will be right there to cover you. Musashi will give everything she’s got, and then some.”

  Sivarek felt proud of his little speech. It sounded like something Captain Kane would have said, or Commander Brattain…

  But they might all die, he thought. This could all be a total failure.

  How did people in command say those things all the time and not feel guilty—and not feel like liars?

  Maybe they did, maybe that was part of their job…

  46

  Albert Hawking entered the Musashi’s bridge; his eyes went wide at what he saw.

  Amazing. The walls so shiny… like being inside of a diamond.

  “Alas!” he said. “The rainbows hurt my eyes.”

  “Yeah,” Cruz said. The petite pilot turned to him, rolling her eyes. “It's kind of much huh? It's the same kind of armor that’s on the outside of the ship. Most of the inner walls lining the hull have it, too, since the ship was remodeled. Sivarek said he's going to turn down the refraction or some crap, make it less distracting.”

  “This is your console, madam?” he asked, indicating the station in front of her.

  She nodded, sitting down. She ran her hands around the surface, and a joystick emerged from the nano-reactive material of the console.

  “These anything like yours?” she asked the little man.

  He nodded. “Oh yes, they have a very familiar look. Granted, our consoles don’t extrude bits as needed. They're a bit more… solid state. But as for the overall design, one thing I'll say about you Republicans—you're consistent. The overall configuration is still classic. Seats look quite comfy, too."

  “Yeah,” Cruz said. “My ass likes it, anyway. Seats are even supposed to feed you stims and keep you alive if you’re bleeding out and stuff. Hope I don’t have to try that. Still, I miss my old job… You ever fly a fighter?”

  He chuckled. “No. Ironically, though a person of my stature could fly even a capital ship, the cramped interior of a Republic fighter requires more average proportions.”

  “You mean your feet can’t reach the pedals?”

  “No…” he admitted sheepishly.

  She was looking him up and down now.

  Curiosity, he knew. She’d likely never seen a grown man of his limited stature before. Though he found it flattering all the same, for a pretty younger lady like this to have any sort of interest in him.

  “Well,” she asked, “Have you ever thought about getting yourself, you know, fixed? I think we have Doctors in the Republic that could do that.”

  He shrugged. “Not really. I find the universe very practical in design. I'm certain that my place in it is deliberate and well-reasoned.”

  A light flashed on a nearby console; Hawking moved over to examine it.

  “Some sort of interference, I do believe,” he told Cruz. “Affecting the directionals.”

  The severely handsome officer called Reynard strode over, swatting Hawking's hand away in his effort to get to the console. He looked at the readings and turned to his superior where she sat in the Captain’s chair.

  “Commander,” he said. “It's the same as before. Same mix of readings on the EM spectrum, quantum interference, gravity wave interference…"

  The Commander strode down from the top of the bridge towards Reynard’s station. The statuesque redhead had the presence to command all of their attention; but Hawking noticed the petite pilot Cruz gazing up at her with special adoration.

  Reminds me of Bell and Maureen, he thought. I hope it works out better for them.

  “It couldn’t be a Republic ship?” the Commander, Brattain, asked.

  Reynard shook his head. “No. It's the same basic signature as the Valorians from before. Just readings rising slower this time, possibly greater magnitude. Like they're either coming in slower, have a much bigger ship—or both. They don’t seem to feel the need to take us by surprise."

  She nodded. “They have us now… Or at least they think they do.”

  “Commander,” Reynard said, “Comm signal coming from the Colonial ship, Spartacus.”

  “Put it through.”

  Washington's gruff voice came over the comm: “Captain Brattain, I sent all non-essential crewmen back to you. Which means most of them. I’m not risking more than three of us. We are preparing to disengage.”

  “What about your pilot?” she asked.

  Hawking felt the Commander’s pretty green eyes studying him.

  What about me?, he thought.

  Washington's voice came back, “It'll take too long to get him down here. I’ll pilot Spartacus.”

  “Glory hound,” Hawking sighed. “Should have known.”

  “Sorry, Albert,” Washington added. “No reason for more than a skeleton crew. And I need someone competent to watch over Janny and Jeremy and the baby.”

  “Very well,” Hawking replied sighing theatrically again. “Give them Hell, my dear Captain.”

  Commander Brattain touched his shoulder. “I'm sorry, Mister Hawking. I know what it must be like to be separated from your crew at this time.”

  “It's no matter,” he said. “Although, I must
find something to do, don’t want to get underfoot and—Wormhole, look!”

  He pointed frantically towards the front viewscreen.

  Reynard was still checking his readings, and hadn’t seen it…

  But now it was visible on the main screen. A bright light in the distance, past the Valorian station…

  Just a pinprick at first, like a distant star, but growing and brightening…

  “Spartacus uncoupling from station and Musashi,” came Washington's voice.

  Brattain took the captain's chair. “Try to stay behind us,” she said to Washington over the comm. “Let us get between you and whatever's coming out of that wormhole for now. I'm hoping our armor will protect us both.”

  “That’s a lot of hope, Captain,” Washington came back.

  Hawking watched in horror as the wormhole on the screen grew and grew…

  Reynard turned to him. “Are you just going to stand there? Refugee or prisoner, whatever you are—your position's not on the bridge.”

  “He's piloted for the Colonials before, right?” Cruz said. “He might know some stuff about their ship if we need advice or—”

  “There's a dignitary's chair in the far left corner,” Brattain said, pointing to that part of the bridge. “You don’t have a nanosuit, Mister Hawking—so please get your restraints on.”

  “Thank you, dear Commander,” Hawking replied with a hasty bow. “You do me quite a bit of good to allow me to remain in the thick of things, if only as a witness.”

  #

  “Are we fully uncoupled from Spartacus, and Spartacus uncoupled from the station?” Brattain asked.

  “Affirmative,” the sensor tech answered.

  “Spartacus, stay close behind us,” she advised Washington on the comm.

  His gruff voice came back: “I’ll stay as close as a dog sniffing your ass.”

  “What?” Cruz asked.

  Albert Hawking chuckled. “That’s a canine form of affection and bonding. It’s also an example of my captain’s subtle and erudite sense of humor.”

  On the tactical display, Brattain could see the Spartacus moving now, the smaller wedge-shaped ship taking up position directly behind the Musashi—so close that if their main ion thrusters were fully engaged, they would be cooking Spartacus’s hull.

  Meanwhile, the Valorian ship continued to emerge slowly from the wormhole. The giant pole-like prong at the head of it slid out first, followed by the triangular delta shape of the main body of the ship.

  Then, suddenly, the prong at the front of the ship glowed yellowish blue—and a spinning swarm of ball lightning-like energy bursts burst out, heading directly for Musashi.

  The blast hit the main hull under the bridge.

  Brattain felt a slight tremor, and the holographic displays on the bridge flickered for a moment… But then everything was steady.

  Sivarek’s excited voice came over the comm: “It worked! The hull refracted the energy, and we’ve been able to retain a large portion of it.”

  “What you mean retain?” Brattain asked.

  “Well,” Sivarek said, “I um… mentioned this before. Didn’t I? It has to do with the endoskeleton of the Valorian ship, which I incorporated into our superstructure. We’ve been able to convert and store some of the energy from incoming attacks.”

  “So we can shoot it back at them, like they shot our grazers back at us before?” Brattain asked.

  “Not exactly,” he answered. “I haven’t figured that out, sorry… But I have been able to channel the energy to charge the main power cells for the theta wave generator.”

  “What the hell are you going to do with that?” Cruz asked. “Isn’t that for opening wormholes?”

  “I think Mister Seutter has some ideas on that,” Sivarek answered nervously.

  Great, Brattain thought. Why am I always the last to be informed of these things?

  The giant Valorian ship continued to emerge from the wormhole. This one wasn’t shaped like a manta ray, so much as it was simply a giant delta: a triangle with a prong at the head of it. Shallow in height, but incredibly wide.

  “Spartacus, are you ready with those torpedoes?” Brattain asked.

  “Yeah,” Washington came back. “Time to say hi to the bonesuits.”

  47

  On the dimly lit bridge of the Spartacus, Washington and Isaac Bell made up the skeleton crew, while Joachim tended the engines in back.

  Washington looked at the main screen, which was largely taken up by a view of the glittering, silvery bulk of Musashi’s hull; he looked down to his console, where he’d attached Jeremy’s crayon drawing of their ship to the edge of the panel with utility tape.

  Hope it brings us luck, kid, he thought. We need all that we can get.

  “Get ready to fire, Isaac,” Washington said. “And if we don’t survive for more than a few seconds after this, it’s been a pleasure.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Captain,” Bell said. “I’m already nervous.”

  “Alright,” Washington said “Now!”

  He pulled the Spartacus out from behind Musashi, pulling ahead along the starboard side of the larger ship, so that at least they would have a minimum of cover.

  On the main viewscreen, they could now see the giant Valorian vessel. The wormhole appeared to be closing behind it as it fully emerged from the jump.

  “How am I supposed to get a lock on it?” Bell asked. “I can’t get a tone, it’s just like a big, black triangle.”

  “Aim for something that looks vital,” Washington responded.

  “Like what—the black shiny part, or the black shiny part?”

  “Just do it!” Washington snapped.

  Bell shifted his sights to manual launch mode, and simultaneously fired one torpedo each from the starboard and port launchers of the Spartacus.

  They flared forward and struck the underside of the delta of the Valorian ship, near where the prong emerged from the point of it.

  Washington magnified the view on the main screen, trying to see if anything was happening, if they’d done any damage…

  “Look!” Bell exclaimed.

  There were silvery strands spreading out across the hull of the Valorian ship where the torpedoes had struck. Then the hull seemed to bubble as if boiling, the skin of it turning white.

  “We did it,” Bell said. “We’re melting them like butter, woo!”

  But then, the bulk of the Valorian ship began to widen—losing its distinct triangular shape, becoming more nebulous.

  And as it did so, the boiling, diseased portions of the skin that had been hit with the nano-infused torpedoes flowed towards the edges of the ship.

  Then, the infected portions started to blister out, growing into spherical shapes—which the ship simply cast off into space.

  The spheres immediately began to dissolve into masses of undefined organic particles—but the Valorian ship continued onwards, its black hull once more unscathed.

  “Oh balls,” Bell said in a very small, choked voice.

  #

  On the bridge of the Musashi, the cheering of the crew died down as they saw that the damage that had been inflicted by the Spartacus’s torpedoes had been minimized, then neutralized—the infected portions of the Valorian ship’s hull literally expelled into space.

  Now what? Brattain thought.

  “Engineering!” she called on the comm. “Mister Sivarek—what happened?”

  The Engineer’s voice came back flustered. “I don’t know, Commander. I have no idea how they did that. I knew that their ships were transmorphic, sure. We’ve seen them change shape before. But to be able to just throw off mass like that?”

  Another voice chimed in on the comm—one that Brattain didn’t expect. It was Xon. “Commander,” he said, “It’s Enoch. He’s captain of that ship. It’s his will, purging the infection.”

  “Enoch? The Valorian leader?” Brattain asked.

  “Yes,” Xon answered. “His psionic power is great as his control over t
heir technology.”

  Xon’s voice was interrupted when the shape-shifting Valorian ship fired another volley of the swirling, lightning-like missiles. They impacted on the port side of Musashi’s hull, and the ship shuddered—

  But the holographic tactical display didn’t show any damage.

  We’ve got to do something, Brattain thought. We can’t hold out like this forever.

  “Fire fusion torpedoes, give them a full volley,” she ordered.

  A dozen blazing torpedoes jetted out from their launching tubes under the booms at the front of the Musashi. They impacted the black mass of the Valorian ship…

  Where each torpedo struck, the enemy’s hull seemed to buckle and bubble. But then, this surface turbulence died down—and there was nothing, just the smooth black oily hull again…

  Except…

  The ship seemed to be stretching out now, pulling apart. Brattain could see gaps in the dark hull, with stars shining through them.

  “What’s happening?” she asked “Did we hurt them at all?”

  Reynard said, “Commander, I’m not sure. The readings are odd. But there’s no debris, and the primary energy signature is splitting off, dividing… It’s as if the engine of the ship is spreading apart into smaller units, with a primary unit remaining at the center.”

  Sivarek’s voice came over the comm. “That’s impossible, right?” he said. “But then… It’s… it’s like an amoeba, maybe? When it makes baby amoebas.”

  “What?” Brattain asked, thoroughly confused.

  Sivarek explained: “You know… Asexual reproduction, entry-level bio class stuff. Like a single-celled organism splitting up, and parts of the nucleus go into each baby organism, right? Except the nucleus in this case is the engine or power plant or whatever drives those things. It’s as if the engines themselves are organic and, um… divisible.”

  Reynard nodded soberly. “Commander, I actually think he’s right… The readings are consistent with that theory.”