The Fallen

by Paul B Spence

  Captain Hutchinson let his 'guests' stew in the brig for an hour before going down to see them. He'd had the shuttle pilot and Sergeant McGee thrown in the brig for good measure. He was still trying to decide if he was going to press formal charges against the sergeant or not.

  That mostly depended on what Lt. Commander Tebrey had to say for himself.

  The brig was just aft of the shuttle bay, on deck six. The four marine guards snapped to attention as the captain approached. Lieutenant Christopher stood and saluted.

  "What do we have, Lieutenant?" he asked.

  "McGee reports that he was given secure orders, sir. Lt. Commander Tebrey refuses to speak to anyone but you about them. Hunter, the neo-panther, has been cooperative, but quiet, of course. The woman with the commander doesn't have an ident-chip and doesn't come up in any of our databases. She's completely off the grid. I don't think she speaks Normarish, either."

  Hutchinson frowned. "Were any of them armed?"

  "No, Captain." Christopher's lips quirked in a half smile. "Except the cat, of course."

  "Of course," Captain Hutchinson replied dryly. "Bring the commander to me in the first interrogation room. We had better get started. And bring some coffee. I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."

  Tebrey was led from his cell by two armed guards. He felt odd in the sky-blue jumpsuit and white shoes they had issued him; he normally wore black when not in armor. Pastels were far too cheerful for how he felt. When he reached the interrogation room, the guards gestured for him to enter and then closed the door behind him. Tebrey watched for the security light to blink on before turning to inspect the room.

  Captain Hutchinson sat at the table in the center of the room. Lieutenant Christopher stood just behind him and to his left. She was armed. Tebrey nodded to both of them and then sat in the empty seat in front of the desk.

  "Do you mind telling me what this is all about, Commander?" the captain asked.

  "Sir, I know that you were on Admiral Meleeka's list," said Tebrey.

  The captain stiffened in his chair. "Go on," he said.

  "I, too, was under orders from the admiral, sir. I'm sure you are aware by now that she is dead. After the attempt on my life that resulted in the destruction of Prism, I knew that I had to flee the Federation."

  "Just a moment, Commander," said Hutchinson. "The attempt on your life?"

  "Yes, sir." Tebrey filled him in on what had truly happened at Prism.

  "That's quite a story, Commander. Do you have any evidence to back it up?"

  "I am alive and here to speak with you, Captain. I'm sure it's a matter of record that I was there when I say I was. Ask Captain Singh, formerly of the Centaur, or Captain Torenth of the CSS Arcadia. They can validate my story."

  "You want me to call up the captain of a foreign power and have a casual chat?" Hutchinson said sarcastically. "I shouldn't let a little thing like war get in the way of that, right?"

  "An illegal war, perpetuated by falsehoods? No, you shouldn't," said Tebrey. "In fact, I believe your orders from the admiral suggested that you should avoid war with the Concord at all costs, even to the point of defecting."

  "As you pointed out," the captain said, "the admiral is now dead. Her orders are no longer binding. I've received new orders since then, Commander. Those orders make it quite clear what I am to do."

  "So you're going to fight in a war that you know to be wrong?"

  "I will follow my orders, Commander."

  "As you are honor-bound to do," Tebrey said. "I understand that, Captain. But you also swore an oath to the people of the Federation. You owe it to them to question any orders you are given that seem immoral to you. What is more immoral that a war perpetrated by alien manipulation for the purpose of producing suffering and death on a scale never before seen?"

  "I have only your word for that."

  "I know that the admiral told you of these things, Captain."

  "And if she did?" asked Hutchinson, slapping the table in anger. "She died labeled a traitor to everything I stand for. How am I supposed to know what the truth is?"

  "Look to your heart for that," said Tebrey. "You've seen what's been going on in the Federation. You know the Concord has nothing to do with it."

  "I'd like to believe you, Commander, but I cannot risk the lives of the men and women under my command on a hunch."

  "Then you are condemning them to die in a useless war."

  "Maybe, but I know what my duty is," Hutchinson said. He stood and turned to Christopher. "Escort this man back to the brig."

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Captain Hutchinson woke to the buzz of his comm.

  "Yes?" he answered irritably. He'd only been asleep for a few hours.

  "Captain? We've got an unscheduled hyper trace. It's out at the extreme limit of the system."

  "Sound the alert, Graham. Ready the ship for battle. I'm on my way to the bridge."

  "Yes, Captain."

  Five minutes later, Captain Hutchinson settled into his acceleration couch and racked his helmet.

  "Captain, I've got a verified Fleet drive signature," Master Chief Mitchell reported.

  "Has there been any communication?"

  "Nothing yet, sir," replied Lieutenant Fowler.

  "Hmm." Hutchinson rubbed at the stubble on his chin, wishing he'd had time to shave. "Send a standard hail."

  "Acknowledged."

  He waited tensely for the response.

  "Captain, I'm getting something. It's coming in ship-to-ship instead of via DEP."

  "On speakers, Lieutenant."

  "This is the FSS Thrush," said the static-laden voice. "Thank god you're here. We're in trouble. Our drive is damaged. We've got many wounded. Can you assist us?"

  "Sir, the Thrush was reported missing three months ago," Graham said quietly.

  "Thrush, this is Captain John Hutchinson aboard the Descubierta. We're glad to hear from you. Where have you been?"

  They waited as the signal crawled across the light-minutes to the ship and back.

  "Descubierta, this is Lt. Commander David. We were attacked by an unknown vessel. We jumped away, but our drive was damaged. We've been stuck in hyperspace since the attack. Captain French was killed in the battle. We need medical aid and supplies. Can you assist us?"

  "Fowler, get me Fleet Command."

  The communications lieutenant tried for a few minutes. "I'm sorry, sir. I cannot get the DEP to connect. There's some kind of interference."

  "How long till the Thrush is in weapons range?"

  "Sir?"

  "How long before they can fire on us if they decide to?"

  "Three minutes, Captain," Chief Petty Officer Mitchell answered. He sounded nervous. "The Thrush was a courier frigate. Assuming this is the Thrush, it's only lightly armed. We could hit them now with our missiles."

  "Not just yet. I need options, people. XO, Chief, what are your tactical assessments?"

  Lt. Commander Michio Graham glanced at his screens. "All of our sensors say that the ship is who it claims to be. Our point defense systems can handle anything they could throw at us. I don't think we have any reason to believe they're anything except what they say they are, but I don’t know."

  "Chief?" Hutchinson asked.

  "Something isn't right, Captain. I don't know what. I don't trust that ship. It seems a little too convenient that our DEP should go down just as the ship arrives. It does fit the size and build of the Thrush, though. Also, I've never heard of a ship getting stuck in hyperspace. I don't think it's even possible. If your drive fails, you either translate back into realspace or you're destroyed."

  That was pretty much what Hutchinson had thought. "What is the crew complement of the Thrush?"

  "She's a small courier frigate, sir, maximum crew complement of one hundred fifty. If you strained the life support, you could get twice that aboard the ship, but they wouldn’t be happy."

  "Chief, is there any evidence of them being as damaged as they say?"
>
  "The ship is damaged, sir. I'm reading massive energy fluctuations in their fusion drive. They're pushing hard to get into the system, maybe a little too hard. There is little evidence of external damage, though. It's not like a courier frigate could take a lot of hits and survive."

  "Thrush, we'd be glad to render assistance. Is there a reason you are redlining your drive?"

  "Acknowledged, Descubierta," came the reply. "Thank god you were here."

  "They didn't answer the question," said Graham.

  "I'm aware of that, Commander. Alert our security teams. I want the crew on full alert until we are sure of this."

  "Captain? What if this is a ruse?" Graham asked.

  "Then we are about to learn what's been happening to all of our ships that have gone missing."

  "That's not very comforting, Captain."

  "I'm not here to hold your hand, XO."

  The tension on the bridge rose as the minutes fled by.

  "The Thrush is easing into a parking orbit fifty kilometers to our port, Captain," Graham reported.

  "That's a little close, isn't it?"

  "Mighty maneuverable for a damaged ship, Captain," Master Chief Mitchell agreed.

  "Indeed. Order the first assessment team over to the Thrush. Tell Lieutenant Christopher to delegate this. I want her here."

  "She’s not going to be happy about that, Captain," said Graham.

  "Just tell her to do it."

  Graham called her up on his screen. "Lt. Christopher, do you have an alternate team available?"

  "I’ve got my backup team in place, sir. We're just waiting for the order to go."

  "Send the other team."

  "What? No offense, sir, but if my people are walking into a trap, I should be there."

  "The captain does not agree with you."

  Graham let her cuss for a minute.

  "Lieutenant?"

  "Alternate team away in two minutes, sir."

  "Amelia."

  She met his eyes defiantly.

  "The captain wants you here in case something goes wrong. He trusts you. If one of those things is on that ship, we’ll need experts."

  "The real expert is locked in the brig, sir."

  "I’ll see what I can do. Get those people over there." He signed off.

  "Problem XO?"

  "No, Captain," Graham replied. He kept his eyes on his screens. Christopher was a good friend whom he hoped he’d be able to find time to know better. He’d been relieved when the captain had told him to order her to stay. He let the captain know as soon as the shuttle launched. "She thinks we should let Lt. Commander Tebrey out of the brig."

  The captain snorted back a laugh. "As if. What do you think about all this, Commander?" Hutchinson asked as they watched the small shuttle approach the damaged frigate.

  "I think that we're in trouble," Graham replied. "I don't know what's going on, but every fiber of my being is crying out for us to run. I think this is a trap."

  "Michio?"

  "I know," Graham said quietly. They had served together years, the captain knew he wasn't a coward, but the situation just didn't feel right. "I just wish we could just open fire on that ship, but there's that thread of uncertainty. What if it really is the Thrush? The crew deserves the benefit of the doubt. I think our enemy is counting on that."

  "I'm still not sure if I believe the stories of strange, unstoppable alien creatures," said Hutchinson.

  "I know, sir. I'm not sure I do, either, but I think we're going find out soon."

  "What should we do about that?"

  "Maybe we should release Lt. Commander Tebrey."

  "Let’s deal with things as they come, shall we?"

  Graham watched the shuttle disappear into the other ship and was glad Christopher wasn’t on it. His bad feeling about the Thrush wouldn’t go away.

  "Communications," Captain Hutchinson said irritably. "Where is that link to the shuttle?"

  "I'm sorry, sir. I can't raise the shuttle now. Their last transmission was three minutes ago. They were initiating docking with the frigate. I'm still getting basic telemetry. The shuttle hasn't been destroyed; they just aren't answering."

  "Are our weapons hot, Mitchell?"

  "Yes, Captain," the master chief replied. "I'm not sure I'd care to fire them this close though. If she explodes, we'll be caught in the blast for sure. I think the Thrush may have maneuvered this close for that express reason, sir."

  "XO, have Lieutenant Christopher stand by. We may need her to go over there and get our people."

  Graham’s heart skipped a beat. "Acknowledged. Christopher is standing by, Captain."

  "We'll give it a few more minutes, Graham. Anything on our tactical sensors?"

  "No, Captain. There doesn't appear to be anything odd about the Thrush. They haven't powered any weapons, not even their defenses."

  "Now I have a bad feeling about this whole thing," Hutchinson said to Graham.

  Graham started to respond, but was cut off by a shrill klaxon. The bridge crew reacted instantly, donning their helmets with well-practiced grace.

  "Graham! Talk to me! What's going on?" the captain demanded.

  "Intruder alert, sir. Troop deck."

  "What?" he bellowed. "How did we miss a shuttle?"

  "More readings, sir. We now have multiple intruders across the ship. There was no shuttle, nor did they EVA from the Thrush. I can't explain how they got aboard."

  "Security! I want teams on those intruders. Now!"

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Lieutenant Christopher's first reaction was of disbelief. There was simply no way that intruders could have gotten past her teams and deeper into the ship. She double-checked the system log, but it was clear. None of the exterior ports had been opened.

  "Okay, people," she said loudly, "listen up! Black Eagle!"

  "Yes, sir," the stocky master sergeant replied.

  "I want you to take a team forward. Intercept the intruders before they can make it to the bridge."

  "Yes, sir!" The sergeant saluted smartly and began bellowing orders to the marines waiting by the forward hatches.

  "Corporal Finch," Christopher said, turning to the tall woman. "Get your squad together. We're going aft. We cannot allow the intruders entry into Engineering. We have to protect the engines and life support at all costs. Follow me!"

  "Sir, what are your orders considering any intruders we find?" Black Eagle asked.

  "Shoot to kill, Sergeant. Let someone else worry about taking prisoners. We have a job to do."

  Tebrey pounded on the door to his cell. "What's going on?" he shouted.

  He'd been fast asleep when the intruder alert sounded. He didn't like to think of what it could mean to him, cooped up in the cell with no weapons or armor. He placed his hands on the door and concentrated. He could sense the confusion of the guards. He tried to calm his mind and think about moving to the other side of the door. He'd seen Emerald do it. The Aurorans had said that Tebrey had the same potential. He just needed to focus.

  "What are you doing?" a voice said from behind him.

  Tebrey jerked like he'd been slapped and turned around quickly. Lyra was sitting on what had been his empty bed a moment ago. "I was trying to get out," he said.

  "There are still two guards out there."

  "I didn't think they'd be much trouble."

  Lyra winced at the ferocity in his voice. "Those men aren't the enemy, Tebrey."

  "I wasn't planning to kill them. I'm well-trained in non-lethal combat techniques, as well."

  "It may not matter," said Lyra. She had her head cocked to the side as if she was listening to something only she could hear. "The two guards just received orders to get to Engineering. The ship is being attacked."

  "Yeah, I know what an intruder alert means."

  "Infiltrated might be a better word," Lyra replied.

  "Great," said Tebrey. "I knew things were going too well."

  Lyra smiled briefly at his cynical humor. "A
re you ready to get out of here?"

  "Quite," Tebrey said. "Can you get Hunter out, too?"

  "I'd rather not jump into his cell. I'm afraid he might kill me before he knew it was me. He's quite angry."

  "Lyra," Tebrey reminded her, "what I know, he knows. He won't not attack you."

  Lyra grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I forget that we Aurorans don't have a monopoly on mindlinks. It isn't a common thing, after all."

  "I suppose not," Tebrey said absently. "Okay, he's ready for us. Shall we?"

  The room dropped away suddenly to be replaced by a nearly identical cell. Hunter was crouched by the door, warily awaiting them.

  Why can she do that here, Hunter asked, but we can't go home that way?

  "Good question," Tebrey replied aloud. "Lyra?"

  "Apporting," Lyra began, and they next found themselves in the empty guard room, "doesn't create ripples when you only make small jumps. Not big ripples, anyway. A jump across light-years, or from universe to universe, creates a very noticeable splash. If a psion is skilled and knows what to look for, they can track the ripples back to the source. We could jump to your home from here, but then the enemy would have an exact target to aim for."

  "No, thank you," Tebrey said. "Do you think you could retrieve Sergeant McGee? He could be useful."

  "Sure," said Lyra. She disappeared, and then returned a minute later with the grizzled sergeant in tow.

  "What the devil!" McGee yelped, startled. "How did you do that?"

  "Do you want the answer to that? Or do you want to help this ship against whatever is attacking it?"

  "Always more questions with you," McGee said. "What do you need me to do? You don't think it's one of those things like we saw on Cedeforthy, do you?"

  "We need to find out, Sergeant."

  "Aye, you'd be the one to be wanting to hunt one of them."

  "Sergeant?"

  "I'm thinking, sir," McGee answered. "We need to get to the armory. You and that cat may be able to fight without a gun, but I'd not be much use to you."