by Tori Harris
With less than five minutes remaining before Captain Prescott’s deadline, Jacks made his call back the Theseus.
“Bridge, Rescue 11.”
“Rescue 11, Theseus-Actual. How much more time do you need, Lieutenant Jacks?” Prescott asked, preempting his question.
“The corridor ahead looks pretty clear, sir. If all goes well, I’d say an extra ten to fifteen minutes will probably do it. The biggest problem we’re likely to have from this side is pressurization. If we can’t seal off a section of the corridor outside the room they’re in, we’ll cause a rapid decompression when we open the door. They’re accustomed to slightly higher air pressures than we are, and the pressure out here is currently around thirty kPa and dropping. That’s well below the atmospheric pressure at the summit of Mount Everest. Our survivors will go hypoxic almost immediately and will most likely be unconscious in less than thirty seconds.”
“Won’t that be enough to cause decompression sickness?”
“Maybe so, sir. There are lots of variables, including the amount of time they are exposed to the lower pressure. At thirty kPa, we’re well above the Armstrong limit, though, so there won’t be a problem with exposed bodily fluids boiling away. As long as we get them into their triple EPs pretty quickly, they should be fine. The pods will get them back to standard atmospheric pressure and provide one hundred percent oxygen until we get them back aboard the Theseus. After that, the doc will need to evaluate them to see if they require hyperbaric treatment. Bottom line, it’s still better than staying here, sir.”
“Agreed. Fifteen more minutes, Lieutenant … and don’t bother asking for more. We’re on borrowed time as it is and I’m just not willing to risk having you and your people out there any longer than that. Understood?”
“Understood. Thank you, sir. Jacks out.”
Knowing that he would still need every moment of the additional time Captain Prescott had given him, Jacks issued a rapid series of orders for four members of his section to secure the surrounding area — which, he admitted to himself, seemed somewhat pointless under the circumstances. If training and experience had taught him nothing else, however, it was how following well-established procedures could keep you alive when something unexpected happened. And in situations like this one, it often did. At the same time, Jacks’ two remaining Marines set about preparing to deploy the inflatable evac pods while he worked with his AI to determine if there was anything that could be done to avoid the need to depressurize the room containing the remaining four Wek survivors.
“The problem is that the first pressure door we can close is just beyond the room where they’re located,” Jacks’ AI reported after a few minutes spent in a fruitless search of the surrounding area. “Unfortunately, closing that one doesn’t help us since all that would do is cordon off an area that’s already losing pressure. We could, of course, use an inflatable barrier, but I estimate that doing so will require at least ten minutes more time than Captain Prescott has given us to complete our mission.”
Yeah, I assumed that was the case. Here’s the thing, we’re not likely to hurt anyone in there when we open the door, right? Jacks asked.
“Most likely not,” his own voice replied. At times like this when the situation demanded extensive interaction with his suit’s AI, it really did start to feel like he was carrying on a two-way conversation with himself, and the fact that his own words were rarely spoken aloud lent a somewhat surreal air to the entire conversation. “Now that I’ve had a little more time to interface with their environmental systems,” the AI continued, “it appears that their pressure doors have the capability to micro-advance, much like ours do. When we breach, we can command the door to open just enough to break the seal. The pressure will still equalize pretty quickly, but it won’t be nearly as traumatic as it would have been had we just opened the door all at once. As far as hurting anyone inside goes, that really depends on their condition. Unless they’re already gravely injured, however, it’s unlikely we’ll do them any additional harm. Since we have little choice in the matter at this point, I recommend we attempt to communicate our intentions beforehand.”
Good idea. Can you patch me through to some sort of intercom system?
“Surprisingly, yes, it’s still working. Stand by.” Seconds later, a chime indicated that an active intercom connection had been opened. “Go ahead, Lieutenant,” his AI prompted.
“Hello in there. Can anyone hear me?” Jacks began tentatively. He knew that his words were being translated on the fly by his AI, and thought it best to avoid mentioning specifically who he was for the moment.
“Yes, we can hear you,” a male Wek replied after a slight pause. “Who is this?” he asked in what Jacks took to be a suspicious, if not openly hostile tone.
So much for establishing trust up front, he thought darkly.
“If I may, Lieutenant,” his AI interrupted, “they almost certainly know of Admiral Naftur. Although they are unlikely to believe you if you mention him alone, perhaps also including the fact that we are working with Commander Takkar from the Hadeon might engender some trust.”
Yeah, I’m also not going to stand around out here begging them to let us continue to risk our lives to save theirs, he thought, then continued aloud, “This is Lieutenant Jacks from the starship Theseus. We are here on a rescue mission at the request of Commander Takkar of the Hadeon. Admiral Rugali Naftur is also a guest aboard our vessel. We have already rescued three other members of your crew. Unfortunately, we have very limited time to get you evacuated back to the Theseus.
“The fact that you know the name of Commander Takkar carries little weight, Lieutenant,” the Wek growled in response, “and we all know that Prince Rugali was killed by your forces months ago. Why should we willingly agree to come aboard your vessel and become prisoners of the Pelaran Alliance?”
Jacks sighed inwardly and rolled his eyes in response, then took a moment to compose his thoughts before continuing. “Sir, I’m assuming that, since we are near your ship’s medical bay, some of your group may be civilians. You, however, sound like a military man to me, so please allow me to do you the honor of shooting it to you straight,” he said, wincing as he realized that his last statement might result in an awkward translation. “I only have a few minutes to get each of you inside emergency evacuation pods for transport back to our shuttle followed by a short ride over to Theseus. If I leave without accomplishing this task, I don’t know whether I will get the opportunity to come back for you. As I’m sure you know, the Keturah is dying, and you will surely die with her if you remain aboard. As far as your status as prisoners goes, it’s true that I am required to treat you as enemy combatants for now — that’s for your protection as well as that of my unit — but you have my word that you will not be mistreated in any way. We have a Wek surgeon aboard the Theseus who can see to your medical needs and, although you will be escorted by Marine guards while onboard, as long as you conduct yourselves as guests, that is precisely how you will be treated. It will, of course, be up to Captain Prescott to decide what to do with you after that, but my guess is that you will be given the opportunity to transfer to the Hadeon as soon as it is safe for you to do so.”
There was silence on the intercom, indicating that the feed from inside the room had been muted. Jacks took advantage of the lull in conversation to note the progress of the two Marines working feverishly behind him in the corridor. He was gratified to see that they had three pods deployed and were already preparing to inflate the fourth.
“Lieutenant Jacks?” the Wek male called from inside the room.
“Yes, sir,” he replied immediately.
“We agree to your terms. I warn you, however, that I am armed and will not hesitate to open fire if I see any evidence that your intentions are other than what you have described. All four of us are injured to some degree, but one of the medics here has sustained serious burns and needs immediate attention. We did what we could to stabilize him, but we were unable to reach
the supplies and equipment we needed inside the medical bay itself.”
“Understood. In just a moment, I’m going to need you to stand clear of the door while we equalize the pressure between the hallway and your room. There is a leak in the adjoining compartment, so I’m afraid you are going to experience a brief period of low pressure and oxygen content once we open the door. It will be uncomfortable, and you should expect to start feeling lightheaded shortly after we enter the room. Again, we will need to place each of you in your own evacuation pod in order to transfer you back to the Theseus. The pods have their own medical AI that is familiar with Wek physiology, so please relax, lie still, and allow the system to begin administering whatever treatment it deems necessary. Regarding your weapon, I will allow you to keep it as we enter the room, but, for your own safety, I ask that you place it on the floor once we begin loading your most seriously injured colleague into his evacuation pod.”
“And will you also be armed, Lieutenant?” the Wek asked.
“Yes, I will, but don’t let that alarm you. We are Terran Fleet Command Marines, sir. We never go anywhere without being heavily armed.” Jacks chuckled to himself in spite of the gravity of the situation. “You will also see that we are wearing a type of combat armor that allows us to operate in all environments. It can be a little intimidating when you see it for the first time, but you have my word that the only reason we are here is to help get you safely off this ship. So do I have your word that you will not attack us when we enter the room?”
There was another brief period of silence during which, Jacks assumed, the survivors were giving final consideration as to whether they had any choice at this point other than cooperation. “You have my word, Lieutenant. Let’s get this over with,” the Wek said, sighing resignedly.
Chapter 15
Exclusion Zone, Location Dagger
(3.3 light years from Earth)
Had an observer been in the unenviable position of witnessing the arrival of SCS Zhelov and Serapion at close range, the sight would almost certainly have inspired a sense of awe replaced shortly thereafter by fear. The starfield near their points of hyperspace interface seemed to blur and twist convulsively, then turn completely black in the instant before two spectacular flashes of gray light heralded the battleships’ arrival.
Hyperspace transitions in the immediate vicinity of other ships are inherently dangerous, but centuries of naval operations experience had allowed the Sajeth Collective to develop procedures designed to minimize risk and render such activities largely routine. One example of just such a procedure required the two Baldev-class battleships to arrive in what was considered a tight formation for warships of their size. Doing so allowed for a predictable interface footprint, followed by an equally predicable pathway for their deceleration burn.
“Tight” formation flying was something of a relative term, the definition of which tended to vary with the size and configuration of the ships involved. In this case, the two-ship formation had maintained a separation of just over ten kilometers during the final leg of their journey to the Resistance rally point. This was done primarily to avoid any potential for the fields generated by their massive hyperdrives to interfere with one another, but also to provide a little room for the ships to maneuver as necessary after transitioning back into normal space.
Although the speed and range of modern naval weaponry made the idea of “formation flying” seem like something of an anachronism, there was still value in the mutual support two or more ships of war could provide for each other. As powerful as each individual ship was, there was still safety in numbers, particularly when there was the potential to encounter hostile forces immediately upon arrival at their destination.
Now, as the two, thirteen-hundred-meter-long warships streaked downrange at nearly ten percent the speed of light, four forward-facing panels slid into recesses in their hulls, each one revealing the presence of two massive sublight engine nozzles. Much like the retrograde engines employed by the BD cruiser Keturah during her battle against the Theseus — but significantly larger due to the battleships’ size — all eight flared to life as they engaged at maximum power. When viewed from the side, a ghostly blue aura issued forth from the two battleships in their direction of flight, allowing the formation to decelerate at a surprising rate for ships of their size.
As the pair neared the end of the exclusion zone, the captains of both ships noted that the situation at their rally point was not as they had expected it to be. In response, both began an intense scan of the area utilizing their entire suite of both active and passive sensors. Even with the limitations imposed by the speed of light, the distances involved were relatively short, and it took only a few moments for the two captains to assess the situation and settle on an initial course of action.
On the side of each battleship facing the center of their formation, the forward-facing engines vectored their thrust to begin increasing the distance to the other ship while the engines on the opposite side ceased operation entirely. At the same moment, the stern of each ship was lit by a bluish-white glow as a total of twenty-four enormous sublight engines added their colossal thrust to the task of positioning the two ships for imminent combat operations.
From the opposite end of the exclusion zone near their original transition point, the two Baldev-class ships had the appearance of an eerie duplicate of the star Sirius, which just happened to be located just above their current plane of flight at the moment. Shortly thereafter, the false star created by the combination of the two ships’ huge drive sections separated into two distinct points of light, then rapidly diminished in brightness as the battleships completed their turns and settled on their new courses — both aligned perfectly to intercept the starship Theseus.
TFS Theseus, Location Dagger
(3.3 light years from Earth)
With Lieutenant Lau still away from the bridge, his replacement jumped involuntarily as a series of urgent-sounding warning tones issued from the Tactical 2 console, none of which she had ever encountered outside of the simulator.
“Contact!” she reported, excitedly but without hesitation.
“What do you have, Lieutenant?” Commander Reynolds asked immediately. Although the XO tried to sound as casual and relaxed as possible, the first thought that had entered her mind was the hope that they were detecting the arrival of several replacement fighters rather than the long-anticipated appearance of Zhelov and Serapion. Just as the eager young lieutenant from the standby crew was fully qualified to sit in for Lieutenant Lau at Tactical, Commander Reynolds was more than capable of commanding the destroyer in combat. But with Captain Prescott off the bridge and three separate EVA missions underway, she couldn’t help but feel a chill of dread run down the length of her spine at the thought of being faced with a completely unmanageable set of circumstances.
“I don’t think it’s one of ours, Commander,” the lieutenant replied gravely. “The AI is still working to classify it, but the point of hyperspace interface corresponds with the exclusion area outlined by Commander Takkar.”
Reynolds glanced to her right at the tactical plot, noting with some relief that there appeared to be only one new ship — currently displayed with the yellow icon reserved for unknown contacts. Realizing that, at this range, Theseus’ AI could be expected to provide additional details rather quickly, she paused momentarily to observe the new arrival. In the back of her mind, she still harbored a faint hope that the contact would turn out to be a friendly — perhaps even one of the Theseus-class destroyers that had taken part in the battle at Location Crossbow.
“Can we get a decent visual from here?” she asked, not directing the question to anyone in particular.
“We can try, ma’am,” Lieutenant Commander Schmidt replied from Tactical 1. “It’s heading away from us at the moment, so assuming it’s a ship, we should be able to see the light given off by its drive section.”
Reynolds’ gaze now shifted to the center of the bridge view scr
een, which shortly thereafter displayed a pulsating green oval surrounding an otherwise unremarkable section of the starfield to port. After a brief pause, the oval pulsed red three times before the entire view screen zoomed in on that section of the sky. It took several seconds for Theseus’ AI to focus its optical sensors on the distant, rapidly moving contact. With a growing sense of anxiety, Reynolds divided her attention between the tactical plot and the slowly sharpening image on the view screen.
“Captain Prescott to the Bridge … Flight Deck, bridge,” she announced in rapid succession. Although they had detected the new contact just ten seconds earlier, Reynolds was unwilling to wait any longer to begin taking definitive action.
“Bridge, go for Flight Deck,” came the immediate reply from the on-duty flight operations officer — currently standing just forward of the destroyer’s main aft airlock that led out to the stern flight apron.
“We’re working a contact up here that may be another hostile. What’s the status of our … stand by one.”