Hope Lost, and Found
WF221’s commander stood in the bridge, watching the action of the aliens around him and fiercely bellowing orders to his subordinates. He had realized early on that the aliens had picked his ship as the target, concentrating all their firepower here as was their usual plan of attack. This was the only way they could bring down a World Federation ship, something they had ironically learned from humans. The Commander knew that what the aliens lacked for in improvisation, they made up for by sheer instinctive determination, numbers and the ability to learn from others.
Their attack plan was simple. Accurately aim and throw enough explosive projectiles at the junction in between both shields until it penetrated enough to spread the infinitely small point where the shields butted up against each other into one now filled with thousands of timed explosive charges. Then launch one ship-busting needle torpedo and ignite the charges a split second before the torpedo hits. The shield deflects enough to allow the torpedo to slip its way through and hit home.
Lasers could theoretically be used for this purpose too, but space based lasers were too weak and had too little cooling, losing their coherence the further in they penetrated and diffusing before they could reach the target. Only properly cooled Earth based lasers were successful in penetrating alien carriers and their different shield systems.
“Damn that Anderson,” Dietrich said to himself.
Dietrich had already ordered the evacuation of all other World Federation ships in the area. It was obvious that this planet’s hive caught them off guard, and it was now time to regroup and plan an attack. It was also obvious that his ship would be the sacrificial lamb, but he’d be damned if this was going to be a total loss. The first four ships jumped simultaneously once their fighters had re-docked, but the last fifteen had their fighter pilots drag their feet on the return.
This didn’t surprise him either. He ended up giving a direct order and the rest jumped out one by one, except for the three now in front of him.
“Tactical, reduce quadrant view to 1000 kilometers square.”
Dietrich watched the holographic display intently, and noted the three closest ships to his position that hadn’t jumped yet.
“Comm, Packet to WF219, WF214, and WF209, as follows: In 5 minutes on my mark, close in to within 800 meters, and set up to tractor the fore part of my ship through the jump the moment my shields are down. Next packet, WF…” here Dietrich paused to look at the holographic display, “…WF228, receive all incoming fighters before you jump.” WF228 was the farthest away from the action and not likely to see any enemy attack once its shields dropped.
“Comm, all fighters: This is Commander Dietrich. Give it your all until 219, 214 and 209 tractor me, then launch your remaining missiles and land on 228. Don’t linger or you’ll be left behind.”
“Comm to Dickens. Location.”
“Dickens here, Sir. Generator Room.” The Generator Room was aft of the ship and well suited for Dietrich’s purpose.
“How long do you think it would take you to run past the ship Nexus from where you are?” The Nexus was the very center point of the ship, the area under attack where the two shields met.
“About 20 seconds sir!” Dickens said. Dietrich laughed, knowing that Dickens was never late for his shift, but timed his entry to the exact second.
“Good. How long will it take for the shield generator to implode once you started a harmonic imbalance?”
Dietrich could hear a sharp intake of breath from Dickens, but he knew Dickens wouldn’t comment. Those on the bridge that overheard the question turned to look at him with obvious surprise on his face.
“Concentrate!” Dietrich bellowed at his crew members, and they all snapped their necks back to their stations.
He waited, knowing that calculations of this sort took time. Waiting patiently was difficult under the circumstances, but he had no choice, and he wanted the keep the crew calm for what would be an extremely difficult maneuver.
“Commander, based on the circumference of the aft shield, a single quantum pulse would take 2.85 seconds to reverberate back to the generator. It would take me about 5 minutes to over-ride the safety mechanisms, and I would need you here personally to confirm my request, Sir!”
“Tactical, how are the aliens progressing?”
“Computer estimates 2 minutes to penetration at the going rate, Sir!” reported Tactical.
“We have to slow them down. Are the other WF ships in position, and have they received our packets?”
“We have confirmation, and they have begun to fire on the ships attacking our Nexus. Sir, they are under attack themselves, as all the alien ships have concentrated themselves on this sector.”
“Dickens!” the commander hollered, knowing that the comm was still open. “I hope you’ve started overriding the safeties! You have less then two minutes!”
Dietrich hoped that the other WF ships in position would slow down the attack on his Nexus.
“Captain Hollander, you have the comm. On my mark, wait 40 seconds and then order the personnel in the aft half to abandon their stations and return to their quarters! Tell them they have one minute to do so.”
Dietrich waited for Hollander to get ready. “MARK!
Knowing that Hollander understood what he was going to do and not waiting for a reply, he tore off through the main corridor that ran from the bridge towards the nexus. He figured he could do it in less than 30 seconds even though he was 65 years old.
The Commander ran as fast as he could while trying to avoid all the human activity in the corridor. He knew the call to abandon the aft half of the ship would slow him down, and he wanted to be sure he was there before it happened. He passed the forward shield generating room and heard its steady, reassuring hum. He ran past Life Support, Secondary Power Generation, Pumping Station, then crew quarters, Life Area, and he could finally see the heavy steel doors that separated both halves of the ship and permitted entry into the Nexus.
Dietrich ran up to the doors and checked his subcutaneous watch as he laid his hand on the pass-pad. Twenty-two seconds. The aft half was supposed to be electronically protected at all times. Once he said his name, the doors opened and he went through, closing automatically after him.
A second set of doors on the other side of the nexus faced him, identical to the first. He gave himself the luxury of looking through the ports right at the spot the shields butted up against each other and ended up against the port windows. He always wondered what would happen if he were able to touch that spot where the shields stopped. He knew that shields once generated, instantly formed a perfect circle around an object, and anything protruding past the shield was simply surrounded by the shield. The more power put into it, the more the diameter increased.
Hitting the palm pad on the second set of doors, he ran through them as the double doors opened, startling two engineers walking toward the doors from the other side.
As he ran he passed water and waste recycling, Chemicals, Manufacture and Repair, Ship Drive which also housed the equipment needed to harvest zero state energy, and finally Power Generation, where Dickens was resetting the computer that controlled the large banks of transformers and capacitors that kept the aft and fore shields going.
As he entered, he heard the All Aft Stations alert to abandon the aft part of the ship. Dietrich was pleased to hear the tone of Captain Hollander’s voice, which left no room for ambiguity. He looked around and saw startled engineers and crew get up to abandon their stations. Two crew members saw the Commander and offered to stay and help out, but the Commander ordered them out.
Dickens was almost finished as Dietrich called out: “Comm to Tactical.”
“Tactical here!”
“Shield status!”
“Computer estimates another two minutes sir! The other ships bought us some time by deflecting the aliens attack.”
‘Good. We just may make it after all,’ Dietrich thought. “Dickens?”
“Almost ready sir. And if you don’t mind my saying, this is hurting me lots to do it. How much time do you want before all hell breaks loose?”
Dietrich saw Dickens’ fingers move over the keyboard so fast they seemed to blur. He was sure that Dickens could type the commands faster then he could say them. Dickens input his codes, followed by Dietrich. They heard pounding, followed by a wrenching metallic sound.
“Give us four minutes, on my mark. That should give us enough time to get out of here. Comm, emergency packet to all tractor ships. Captains, set your timers for four minutes, on my mark. Mark! Jump out before the timer reaches zero, whether we’re ready or not. Dietrich out.” The pounding in the corridor increased, signifying that the space between shields had widened enough to allow larger projectiles to break through.
“Let’s go!” They ran down the corridor as they heard more and more pounding. Suddenly the ship resounded with a deep rumble, and the pounding stopped just as they reached the Nexus doors. The sight that greeted them through the door ports clearly showed they had been too late. The corridor had obviously been breached, and the remains of the metallic walls and armor were slowly twisting and stretching apart.
“How are we going to get across?”
Dietrich looked at the twisting corridor, space clearly visible in the widening tears. Electricity was arching as it shorted, and they could see electrical tendrils snaking through the air from the massive current running between the fore and aft sections.
“I’m sure the grav generators have failed in the corridor. We opened the door and let vacuum do the rest. What about these doors here?”
“You got balls Commander. The loss of air will have the doors closing as soon as they’re free of obstructions. Don’t forget to expel the air from your lungs.”
“Good. Get ready!” They both took a number of deep breaths and finally emptied their lungs as Dietrich hit the pass-pad. The doors opened and the out-rush of air sucked them through the empty vacuum now in the breached corridor. Seconds later they were slammed into the doors on the other side.
Dickens barely caught the handhold. Dietrich hit the doors head on and bounced back, blood beading up and spilling into the vacuum. Dickens grabbed him with his other hand and brought him up to the door. He was redding out as blood was sucked into his eyes, and was slowing down as his hands numbed from the deep cold. His lungs were bursting to get a breath of air, but he somehow reached the area where the pass-pad was. He felt himself losing his grip on life, but he looked at Dietrich, who was watching him with dazed eyes. Dickens shook him, knowing he couldn’t open the door and hang on to him at the same time.
Dietrich’s eyes shot open, saw Dicken’s grip around the handhold, and grabbed the other grip with his flailing arm. They let go and swung out of the way as Dickens hit the pass-pad, and the sudden out-rushing of air nearly blew them from their handholds.
Dietrich reached out and grabbed the door frame, knowing the doors wouldn’t shut as long as his hand was there. The out-rushing air had slowed as other breach doors in the corridor closed, and they pulled themselves in as soon as they could and closed the Nexus doors. Within moments emergency circulation pumps filled the corridor with air as they gasped and choked. When he could draw a breath, Dietrich croaked out: “Comm, Captain Hollander. Dietrich here. We’re back in the fore section. What is the progress on the fighters?”
“The last few stragglers have docked, Commander.”
The lights flickered a few times in the corridor and then went out. The emergency beacons came on, and they turned to look out the ports at the Nexus corridor. The twisted wreckage was now sparking wildly, and the groans reverberated through the walls and floor. Power was obviously out, and Dietrich could see that the fore shields had de-energized with the loss of power from the severed conduits in the corridor.
With one last twist, both halves of the ship finally let go, and the aft section slowly started drifting away. The shield could clearly be seen now, surrounding the remains of the destroyed nexus. The main power conduit, a strong, flexible cable the size of a person’s wrist sparked wildly as it snaked through the air and slowly swung over and touched a piece of wreckage from the fore section. Dickens had realized too late what would happen, and only had time to yell before he jumped up off the floor. In midair, Dickens saw the walls around him glow, and a rainbow of colors crossed his eyes as the raw power of the main conduit shot through the wreckage, Commander Dietrich, and anything else connected to the floor before it blew the breakers in the aft half of the ship. Tendrils of lightening snaked out of Dietrich and flared onto everything, including Dickens.
***
The aliens, at first unsure of what to do, now found two ships where there had been one before. Quickly analyzing the situation, they made the critical mistake of deciding that the shield bound ship was the primary target and concentrated most of the firepower on the area around the nexus, the only part not enveloped by the shield.
***
“Dickens lay there on the floor, stunned and unsure of where he was. All he knew was that he had a massive headache and his head pounded. Oddly, this pounding didn’t have a rhythm, and it didn’t really hurt as it pounded, which left him confused.
Eventually, the mental haze cleared and he opened his eyes to darkness. Fear jumped in as he wondered if he had gone blind, but he eventually spotted a glow coming through the portholes on the doors behind him. Next he saw the burned out stump of what had been Dietrich, the remains of his hand still stuck on the wall.
Dickens suddenly realized what the pounding was and he jumped up with a start. Feeling along the wall, he worked his way down the corridor until he got to the closed bulkhead door. Opening it revealed emergency lighting, and Dickens was grateful even if they were only emergency beacons. He started running and passed the Life area, Crew quarters, Pumping Station, and finally Power Generation. He knew he had to reset the main power buss, but couldn’t remember if the main conduit that had caused the massive short circuit had fused itself to the ship or not.
‘Damn! Should have looked,’ he thought as he ran. Those in the corridor slowed him down as they ran to their own stations, and some tried asking for help, which he ignored. He knew that the main Power Generation computer in the aft half would attempt a reset and reconnect and would eventually try and route an automatic bypass. That meant he and anyone else near the main conduit would still be in danger if the conduit was fused when the computer reset the system.
“Well, only one way to find out…” Dickens knew that the bridge was blind and all systems were down, including life support. He also knew that he could coax enough power out of the secondary generator to give them communication and defense, at least for a minute or two.
He finally reached the power buss in Power Generation. He watched the gauge as he pumped up the breaker reset, and as soon as it entered the green area he hit the switch, relieved that no fireworks ensued. Next he programmed the power route on the computer and hit enter.
Dickens had sub-consciously held his breath, but when the normal lights flickered on, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Comm, Captain Hollander!” Dickens yelled into the communication system.
“Hollander here Dickens. Am I glad to…”
“Captain,” Dickens interrupted, “Commander Dietrich is dead. I’m in Power Generation, fore section. The aft half has detached. There’s nobody else here. Any preference on what you would want powered first?” Dickens already knew what Hollander would say and had already started.
There was a pause with the news of Dietrich’s death, and then Hollander replied, “Full report later, Dickens. For now, give me defense, full Comm, and then anything else you can muster. I need defense for another 2 minutes. I also had the crew work their way to the center for safety, so life support in that area.”
Dickens looked at his watch and said, “Sir we have only one minute and twenty seconds before the shield implodes…”
“Thank you Dickens.” Captain Hollander hadn’t expected Dietrich’s death and the surprise put his concentration off for a second. He forced himself to focus again. He well knew that towing an object this large into a jump was theoretically possible, but it had never been done before, and especially not with a structurally unsound and damaged ship.
Dickens hadn’t thought of bringing the crew to the center. If a breach did occur, there were several airtight doors between the outer hull and the very center of the ship. “Defense online and ready sir,” Dickens said, and he could feel Hollander smiling through the comm.
The pounding on the ship lessened slightly, but she was still taking a massive beating. Dickens brought damage sensors online, and routed enough power to activate fire suppression systems as needed and to make sure that all emergency systems were online. He also decided to turn on visual on the secondary monitors, which was something they rarely did as it distracted the officers from their assigned duties.
Once on Dickens saw the alien craft surrounding them buzzing with activity, and the three World Federation ships doing all they could to keep up as they tractored WF221 to the jump coordinates. They were obviously losing ground, but fortunately WF221 was taking the brunt of the beating. How much longer the hull armor plating would last or torpedoes were fired was anyone’s guess.
Dickens turned his attention to an area of space that seemed blacker then usual. He was perplexed until he realized that the area had no stars. His mind, still fuzzy from the high voltage that had passed through his body, suddenly caught on to what this was, an alien capital ship setting herself up for a torpedo run.
The comm link was still open to the bridge, so Dickens yelled, “Captain Hollander, Capital ship setting up for a torp run.”
“Thank you Dickens, I just noticed that. We jump in 22 seconds…”
“22 seconds. Not enough time,” Dickens said to himself as his mind worked furiously. He heard the subtle despair in Hollander’s voice as Hollander realized that there was no possibility of escaping the torpedo, but he had no time to answer. He saw the flare of a torpedo igniting its rockets as it left the launch tube. The computer blared a general warning and Dickens said, “Computer, time to impact?”
“Seven point three seconds.”
He hurried as his fingers flew over the computer keyboard.
On the Bridge, Captain Hollander looked around to see red warning screens flashing amid a room full of fallen debris. He too had received the warning from Tactical, although he didn’t need it. The alien Capital ship was clearly in his view and he saw the launch himself.
“Damn!” Hollander muttered to himself, thinking about all the lives on board WF221. When the other World Federation ships jumped, they’d take only a burning hulk with them. There wasn’t even time to evacuate, though why anyone would want to was beyond him. Death by explosion was much better then death by slow suffocation.
Hollander watched with a detached interest as the torpedo came toward them and slowly counted down in his mind the time to impact. Others were mouthing the words too, and when they all reached six, all systems in the bridge went completely dead.
Hollander looked around in pitch black darkness, thinking that it was a touch of cruelty to die in the dark. He steadied himself against the railing, and just as the count went to eight seconds, the emergency lights came back on. A second later the screen came on, and Captain Hollander could clearly see the tail end of a torpedo in front of him, directed toward the alien Capital ship.
He stood there too stunned to think, and within a few more seconds the comforting halo of nothingness enveloped him as the World Federation ships tugged WF221 into the Jump.
***
If aliens could show any emotions, it would be happening right now.
The collective consciousness analyzed the circumstances, and together decided that the World Federation ship was terminal. To speed up the event and make more effective use of the aliens’ total energy, they concluded that it would be in their best interest to launch a torpedo against what the Humans called WF221.
They all saw the torpedo approach the ship, but in a blink of an alien eye it vanished. They had to consult their memory systems to see what had happened to their torpedo. Their attitude was completely ambivalent as they saw the shields blink on for a split second, just enough to destroy the torpedo.
“No matter”, agreed the collective. It would still be more energy conservative to launch a second torpedo. Their attention was diverted when an alarm sounded, telling them that they were now somehow under attack themselves. The collective was consternated, but they brushed confusion aside to deal with the matter at hand. Although their shields were not as invulnerable, theirs could absorb the impact of a single torpedo without damage. Shields were left reinforced, and alien craft in the area kept vigilance for any other surprise attacks from enemy ships that were perhaps left hidden behind and ready to fight.
What they didn’t notice was that a feedback spike had been started in the aft shields of the now detached rear half of WF221. They also didn’t pay attention to the anomaly found in the shield, now displayed on one of their tactical screens. They were too busy looking at the harmless torpedo to notice that the aft shields of WF221’s stern section had suddenly imploded, creating an instant singularity that lasted for a few tenths of a second. In that period of time though, it had spread a pulse of energy so incredibly strong that the electromagnetic energy collapsed all shields and fried all electronic systems. The exploding torpedo didn’t help the matter any, as the pulse wave instantly engulfed all alien craft within a radius of a good five-thousand kilometers.
Dickens sat in the Generator room, still holding his breath after launching the torpedo himself. He hadn’t even noticed that the ships had jumped, and when he finally realized it, he smiled, and promptly fainted.