Emergence

by Ken Lozito

  “First strike?” Gordon said, and his eyes widened. “What do you mean by a first strike?”

  “If an invasion force were going to achieve total surprise, one of the first things things they’d likely do is cripple communications so we couldn’t talk to each other or coordinate and respond to threats,” Connor said.

  Gordon shook his head, and he looked around the bridge as if trying to find the right tool for a job he had to do. He looked at Connor. “The Vemus?”

  Gordon’s question drew the attention of the other people on the bridge.

  “I’m not sure. I know just as much as you. Why don’t you focus on getting the sonar working so we can find the other submarines?” Connor said.

  Gordon stepped to the side and began speaking with Potter about the status of the sonar antenna.

  Connor walked over to the helm station where Stephen Banks sat. He had a headset on and was speaking to the other crewmen, who were patching the damaged parts of the ship. He glanced up at Connor as he approached. “Do you know our current position?”

  Banks shook his head.

  Connor looked at the camera feeds. They needed to look for a landmark that matched with the computer in order to pinpoint where they were. A comlink registered with Connor’s. “Yeah, Sims, what’ve you got?”

  “Is this a private channel, sir?”

  “It is now,” Connor said as he enabled the privacy setting.

  “Sir, I’m not able to detect any CDF chatter, not even the basic stay-alive protocol that our communication systems use to check in. We’re completely cut off,” Sims said.

  “Can you boost the signal to a set of coordinates?”

  “I’m sure I could rig something up, but it’ll take a little bit of time.”

  “Get started,” Connor said and glanced at Gordon.

  “But sir, if I do this, we might lose all communications capability. I’m pretty sure it will overload the internal components, but we could include a short message.”

  “Understood,” Connor replied and closed the comlink.

  He walked over to Gordon and asked about the sonar hatch.

  “They’re cutting away the hinges so we can pop the hatch off,” Gordon replied.

  “Do you have a spare?” Connor asked.

  “If I had a spare, don’t you think I would’ve used it by now? My wife is missing!” Gordon snapped, and looked away from Connor for a moment, pressing his lips together. “I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help.”

  “It’s alright,” Connor said softly. “I’m going to take a look outside and see if I can figure out where we are.”

  “With no communications, there isn’t much we can do in this fog. We’ll have to wait for it to clear up.”

  “No, we won’t. I brought recon drones that will be able to help,” Connor said.

  “Can you have them locate the other sub?”

  Connor knew what his answer would be, but he paused so Gordon would believe he’d considered it. “I’d like to know more about our current situation. I’ll send them up to do a quick survey of the area so we can figure out where we are, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to send them on a search just yet.”

  Gordon’s nostrils flared, and he blew out a breath. “You still think this might be an attack?”

  “I’m not sure, but I intend to find out.”

  Connor left the bridge and Diaz followed him. Once they were out of earshot, Diaz leaned toward him. “They’re civilians.”

  Connor nodded. “He’s worried about his wife and the other team.”

  “Flint and Rollins are with them, so if the other Marlin is in trouble, they should be able to help.”

  Connor nodded. Flint and Rollins were both good, capable men to have in a tight spot. He hoped the others were alright. If they could repair their own sub, they could rescue them, but first they needed to figure out where they were.

  Connor left their equipment near the top hatch. He then opened one of the containers and took out a short-range reconnaissance drone. Diaz opened the hatch to the outside, and foul air invaded Connor’s nose. He held his breath. “Geez, you could have warned me.”

  Diaz covered his nose and mouth with his hand. “That wasn’t me. That’s the air outside.”

  Connor climbed out and the foul odor lessened, but not by much. He heard the crewmen cutting away the hatch doors, trying to free the sonar assembly, and he could barely make out Sims until he switched his visual spectrum to infrared. Connor and Diaz peered around but couldn’t make out any landmasses, so Connor threw the recon drone up into the air. It flew above them, maintaining a comlink to his implants. He then opened another comlink to the bridge so those who were there could see the live feed.

  The drone flew higher into the air, and the thick gray fog lessened as the drone ascended. Less than a minute later, it finally broke through the mist. There were more thick clouds in the distance, and Connor caught a partial view of a clear sky. He had the drone circle around. Beneath the drone was a vast cloud cover of almost the entire region. They caught sight of foothills to the west that looked like tiny dark islands poking above the fog—fins amidst a sea of gray. The drone flew to a height of three hundred meters and hovered. He could almost make out the New Earth countryside, but it was too far away for even his enhanced vision.

  “Gordon, does any of this look familiar?” Connor asked.

  “I can’t tell. I want to say yes, but I’m just not sure,” Gordon replied.

  Connor set the drone on a one-kilometer search grid and informed Gordon that he was coming back to the bridge. He looked at Diaz. “If this was an attack, is the fog part of their strategy? I don’t think this is the Vemus.”

  Diaz nodded. “I think you’re right.”

  23

  The casualty report wasn’t nearly as bad as Sean had feared, but it didn’t make the fact that soldiers had died under his command any easier. The worst of the damage was where the large asteroids had actually penetrated the hull, and the soldiers in those areas had died instantly, their lives snuffed out. They couldn’t even retrieve the bodies because they’d been sucked out of the ship through breaches in the hull. They were just gone, the memories of their fellow soldiers and families were all that remained of them.

  In most areas of the ship, the automated bulkhead protection systems had worked flawlessly and kept the loss of life to a minimum. While it was tragic to lose anyone under his command, Sean knew it could have been considerably worse.

  They’d managed to navigate their way out of the asteroid field that orbited the planet Sagan and were currently searching for an explanation of how one of Sagan’s moons had suddenly been destroyed. The Vigilant’s main bridge had become a paradoxically quiet buzz of activity.

  A comlink query came to prominence on Sean’s personal holoscreen, and he acknowledged it.

  Captain Bill Halsey, one of the Vigilant’s senior engineers, had a few grimy smudges on his forehead and cheek where he’d absentmindedly rubbed them. “Colonel, I have an update regarding the damaged missile tubes. There’s significant damage to the hatches for tubes twelve through sixteen, but the actual tubes are structurally intact. Essentially, the impact from that big mother of an asteroid put a significant dent in our brand-new hull. It’ll take us some time to clear away the damaged hatches, but two of the grasers are completely gone. Best guess estimate is that the missile tubes could be combat ready in thirty-six hours, but that just means we can shoot missiles out of them and we’ll have no hatches. Without the armored hatches, the ship has a weak point that could be exploited.”

  Sean rubbed his chin. “So we can maintain our offensive capability by opening up the missile tubes, but we’d leave ourselves exposed. How long would it take to repair the hatches? Can they even be repaired?”

  “We can fix anything, Colonel, but the trade-off is time. If we want the missile tubes fully operational, I would suggest that my team spend most of their time focused on one tube to minimize the risk o
f a weak point. To get one fully operational…” Halsey said and glanced away from the screen while he considered, then looked back at Sean, “could be seventy-two hours or even more.”

  Sean’s eyes widened for a moment. “Seventy-two hours?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t like that. We have to cut away the current hatch, preserving what we can, and build up the structural integrity of the end of the tube. After that, we reinstall the hatch. It could take as long as a week per tube to become fully operational, but we could do things on the other tubes at the same time without leaving us exposed. Again, if there is an enemy force out there, we’ll be exposed, which could affect the integrity of the forward section of the ship if we got hit in just the right way.”

  Sean leaned back in his chair while he weighed his options.

  “Even if we were at Lunar Space Dock, it would still take a week,” Halsey continued.

  Sean nodded. “Understood, Captain. I want my missile tubes back as quickly as possible, and I want them fully operational. Hopefully, you’ll be able to condense the timeline once you get started.”

  “Yes, Colonel. We’ll get it done.”

  Sean supposed he should be thankful that only four of the missile tubes had been affected. They could be repaired, but the grasers were lost, which was something they couldn’t fix. They’d lost ten percent of their combat capability, and they were no closer to understanding how that had happened. They still had zero communications from New Earth, and they couldn’t account for any of the salvage teams.

  “Colonel,” Lieutenant Davis Hoffman said from the operations workstation. “Captain Webb reports ready status to deploy reconnaissance teams.”

  “Very well. Open a comlink to my station, Lieutenant.”

  A few moments later Sean saw Captain Webb’s face from the cockpit of a combat shuttle. “All set, Captain?”

  “Absolutely, Colonel. My squadron has the locales of all the salvage teams. The Talon-Vs that are flight-ready will be flying escort. We’ll find them,” Captain Webb said.

  Sean nodded and felt a sudden impulse, a longing to be on the away team. It had come so unexpectedly that it blossomed into a deep pang, and he sighed inwardly. It was impractical for the commanding officer of the ship to be on the away team, and he had well-qualified soldiers who could do this. “Good. Happy hunting, Captain.”

  The comlink closed and Sean checked the statuses of core systems on his terminal. Repair teams were working on the damaged areas. And there was also no shortage of bumps and bruises, according to the doctors in the Med Bay. But overall, they’d been very lucky. Sean had reviewed Gabriel’s report, which included a high-level model depicting what the Vigilant had escaped. There were still no plausible explanations as to how the moon had gotten destroyed or how they hadn’t detected the asteroids until they were already among them.

  He glanced at Oriana, who was working at the aux workstation. She was busy confirming what she’d theorized about the gravitational waves, which was proving to be more difficult than either of them had anticipated.

  Over the next few hours, they all experienced the grind of repairing the ship and maintaining their orbit around Sagan. They were still doing scanner sweeps of the area, but this was localized to the vicinity of the planet. The bridge crew spoke in hushed tones, as if they were afraid to give voice to the growing fear among them. The longer the comms blackout from New Earth went on, the more the buildup of dread affected them. Not even Sean was immune. They couldn’t stay where they were much longer.

  “Colonel, Captain Webb reports that they haven’t been able to find any of the salvage teams,” Lieutenant Hoffman said.

  Sean stood up, eyes wide. “None at all?”

  “His report says there’s no sign of the teams or any salvage efforts at their last known locations. He’s awaiting orders, Colonel.”

  Sean drew in a deep breath. “Stand by,” he said and walked to the auxiliary workstation. He leaned down and spoke quietly to Oriana. “Could what happened to us have affected the salvage teams?”

  “It stands to reason that they would have been affected just as we were,” Oriana replied.

  “Then where the hell are they?” Sean asked.

  Oriana wrinkled her brow. “I don’t know.”

  Sean resisted the urge to clench his teeth in frustration. It wasn’t her fault.

  “We’re still confirming what happened,” Oriana replied quietly.

  Earlier, they’d decided to keep certain theories between themselves. Sean nodded and left her.

  “Tell Captain Webb to return to the ship.”

  Lieutenant Hoffman relayed Sean’s orders. “Colonel, Captain Webb is insisting that they be allowed more time to search.”

  Sean’s mouth formed a grim line. “In the absence of any evidence of salvage team activity, further search doesn’t make any sense. My orders stand; they are to return to the ship immediately. I want to debrief Captain Webb as soon as he’s back aboard.”

  Lieutenant Hoffman relayed Sean’s orders and then nodded.

  “Comms, inform Major Brody, Lieutenant Russo, and Dr. Volker to meet me in my ready room in twenty minutes,” Sean said.

  “Yes, Colonel,” Specialist Sansky replied.

  “Dr. Evans, will you join me as well? We have a lot to discuss. Lieutenant Scott, you have the conn,” Sean said.

  Lieutenant Scott left the tactical workstation and sat in the commander’s chair.

  Sean watched as Oriana closed what she was working on and walked over to him.

  “I haven’t finished my analysis.”

  “I know, but we can’t stay here, and I need all options on the table, including your partial analysis of the situation. The salvage teams aren’t here, and we need to think about what else could be going on.”

  When Sean took command of the Vigilant, he’d been prepared for the possibility of dealing with unknown circumstances, but nothing could have prepared any of them for what he thought they were facing. He’d meet with his senior officers and science advisors so they could work out their options. It wouldn’t be easy, and no one would have all the answers, but ultimately it was his decision. The one thing Sean knew for sure was that they couldn’t languish there in limbo any longer.

  24

  Noah was quiet during the entire journey back to their C-cat. He’d gotten good advice, but Franklin’s disappointment bothered him. Noah had been among a large group of colonists who’d come to New Earth without other family members or friends. He’d qualified for the Ark program because of his high test scores and aptitude tests, and Franklin had taken him under his wing and looked after him as much as Connor ever had.

  “Are you sure we can trust Franklin Mallory?” Dash asked.

  Noah glanced at the young man. “I think so. Why do you ask?”

  “Just trying to be objective. Mr. Mallory is the head of Field Ops and Security. He was also involved in the creation of the Colonial Defense Force. Someone with that kind of access could easily be the person who’s spying on you. He’d have the resources to extract the stasis pods from the bunkers. I know he’s your friend, but have you considered that?”

  They were walking out to the landing area where their C-cat was waiting. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Dash had raised a good point.

  “I’m sorry, Noah. It doesn’t mean he’s the one, but he certainly would have the access and the resources to be doing it.”

  “No, it’s okay. You’re right to bring it up, but I don’t like it. Franklin Mallory’s a good man, and I have to recognize that he should be among the prime suspects. What I don’t understand is why he would do such a thing,” Noah said.

  They went through the security checkpoint to access the landing area. Other ships were leaving as clearance was given.

  “I don’t know if it is him, but maybe he’s doing it because he’s trying to protect everyone. Perhaps we should consider all department heads.”

  “Like who? I looked into Governor Wolf, her advis
ers, Bob Mullins, and Kurt Johnson. I was rather surprised, but I couldn’t find anything to link him to what’s been going on. I even looked into Meredith Cain, the director of the Colonial Intelligence Bureau. Nothing.”

  “So, not department heads then.”

  Noah glanced at Dash. “There are lines that shouldn’t be crossed, but we’ll find out sooner or later. Let’s look at the data I was able to retrieve. They wouldn’t bring the stasis pods back to any of the cities, but there could be other leads.”

  Dash nodded. “Yeah, but they could be operating anywhere then. Just look at your secret lair,” he said with a grin in an attempt to lighten the mood.

  “Possibly. I mean, you’re probably right about that, but I’m not sure it would be anything like my home away from home. There are more people involved, so it would be quite a bit bigger. They wouldn’t want somebody to stumble onto it, but at the same time, they’d need resources and specialized equipment. We’ll have to account for those things in our search. There’s gotta be a way to narrow it down.”

  “How many people do you think are involved?”

  Noah sighed. “The fact that they’re removing stasis pods changes things. This could be the first time they’ve done it, or they could’ve been doing it for months. There could be as many as fifty or more people for an operation like that.” He kept going over his conversation with Franklin, trying to glean any other tidbits of information. He felt like he was missing something.

  They reached the C-cat and climbed inside. Noah brought the systems up, and there was a colonial news broadcast about missing colonists in New Haven. Noah brought the report up onto the C-cat’s HUD. The report showed images of the harbor at New Haven, which had been damaged by a massive rogue wave. Cleanup efforts were already underway. The report then flashed images of an archaeologist and his team whose whereabouts were currently unknown. A Field Ops team had also found a troop carrier from the Sanctuary Recovery Institute that had been left onshore nearly forty kilometers from New Haven.