Lost
Captain Hollander breathed a deep sigh of relief when the jump bubble imploded and he could see real space again. Although the jump is instantaneous, the excitement of the last few seconds was too much for his 52 year old heart, and besides, he still couldn’t believe they had somehow survived.
“Comm to Dickens. Uh, was that a torpedo I saw going away from us just before we jumped?” Hollander waited, but there was no answer coming.
He looked around and saw an ensign helping a technician. “Ensign, if you can be spared, verify Mr. Dickens’ status in the Generator Room.”
“Yes sir!” the ensign replied.
Hollander looked around the bridge and then at the view screen. They had jumped to safe territory near the free planetoid Nady, where somewhat of a free law ship repair station existed. It was on the edge of free space, and much of the items Hollander would request would end up costing them, but a political arrangement had been in place for centuries that guaranteed free labor by a capable repair team in exchange for first bartering rights, most base necessities and constant fleet provided protection.
The other WF ships that were towing them had unlocked their tractor beams and WF221 was now drifting, with the drive gone and maneuvering jets offline. Tugs were on their way, but had not yet arrived. Hollander could see a slight rotating drift to the ship, spinning counterclockwise and slowly rotating from front to back. It was driving him crazy. This represented everything that had gone wrong those last few hours and it painfully reminded him of his lost crew, numbers and people still un-tabulated.
‘Damn!’ Hollander thought. ‘No drive, people dead, the Commander dead, Dickens unaccounted for, and this infernal spin to boot…’
“Can’t anyone do anything about this damn spin?!” he yelled in frustration.
The technician under one of the consoles spoke up and said, “Almost done here sir. You should have some sort of control in a second… Try it now Sticks,” he said to the ship pilot, a young hotshot whose given name was Daniel. First Officer Bishop was under the console too, giving the technician a hand.
Hollander watched as Daniel massaged the controls, and the ship sluggishly stopped spinning to the point where it now faced backward, almost directly back at the point of jump entry.
‘Great’, Captain Hollander thought. “Thank you Daniel, and…and…”
“Junior, sir,” the technician spoke up. By this time Bishop had already gotten up to stand by Captain Hollander’s side, his usual place.
“Thank you, Junior.”
Hollander watched the viewscreen, thinking about the last few events, running them through his mind and trying to decide if how he reacted to the near destruction of WF221 was the best way he could have gone about the situation. There was nothing better to do at the moment, seeing that the reports on ship damage and current status, the repairs, lost crew members and a million other details would take their time to be compiled and filter in.
As he stood there thinking, a small thought registered on his sub-conscious that the space he was staring into on the viewscreen wasn’t quite right. Ever so slowly, an object that was barely viewable was coming into focus on the screen. Hollander continued to watch offhandedly at an area of space that was darker then dark, and when a star blinked out and then reappeared his mind finally clicked.
“Anything on our Tactical?” he said out loud.
“No sir,” came the reply.
“Huh. Look again, it’s directly in front of us.”
Sallecker was the Tactical operator on duty. His own command, a Destroyer class fast intercept ship had been severely damaged, and he took this position temporarily to sharpen his knowledge of the field.
He looked up at the viewscreen but didn’t see anything. Looking again at Tactical, he said, “Nothing here, no heat, IF or anything, though most sensors are offline.”
Bishop had walked over to Sallecker and added a few suggestions of his own. However, no further information came up.
“Well, either I’m looking at something or I’m going nuts.” The object was now somewhat visible because of its depth of blackness against the band of stars behind it, and its outline was growing as it came directly at them.
“I think it’s one of those ghost ships Captain. Shields are offline but we do have canons from 50MM and up,” Jumal, on Targeting said.
“I think you’re right Jumal. Sallecker, you’re sure there’s nothing else around?”
“Other than our ships, nothing Sir, but then again that ship isn’t there either. Most of my sensors are damaged, so I can’t scan for C-trail as one of our fighter pilots had suggested.”
“Hmm. Strange…” Hollander knew that any alien craft this size was not a threat to a WF ship, even if it was severely damaged.
“Everyone, watch the ship. See if there’s any movement at all,” Hollander said, an idea forming in his mind.
They all stared at the screen and watched carefully as the black outline came slowly but directly at them.
“Anything yet Sallecker?”
“No sir.”
Bishop spoke up. “Jumal, you said that we have canons. Are the targeting computers operational?”
“Yes sir,” Jumal replied.
“Good, target the ship manually, but don’t fire the canons.”
“Computer, on the main viewscreen is a dark area, an alien craft our sensors can’t pick up. Can you calculate its speed and trajectory based on its movement in reference to the background stars?”
“Yes. Do you want it displayed?” the computer responded.
“Yes,” Bishop replied.
A few moments later, the speed, attitude, and direction relative to WF221 was displayed, which put a smile on Hollander’s face.
“Jumal, calculate time of impact based on present speed.”
Jumal quickly calculated and then said, “One minute thirty nine seconds, sir. Captain, how in the world is this ship following us?”
“Jumal, I believe we won the lottery. It’s my guess that this ship is here because it got sucked in with us when we jumped.”
‘Lottery indeed,’ Hollander thought. If this ship was as dead as he thought it was, it could be valuable from a technological standpoint alone. But there was no time to get a tug out here, and no ships were in position to tractor this ship into their bay.
“Daniel, I need some more of your magic. Match our speed and direction with the alien ship, minus 10 kilometers per hour.”
“I’ll try, sir!”
Daniel watched the numbers, and he massaged the thrusters that were still operational. Some of them were overheated from the last maneuver, and he had to over-ride them before he could use them again. Others were simply out of fuel, and the crew hadn’t had a chance to attend to them yet. They weren’t made to move the ship in this way, being designed only to provide minute adjustments when docking with a spaceport. Still, he gave it all he had and watched as the distance closed in between the two ships.
At one hundred meters, they were still off Hollander’s mark by 16 kilometers per hour, and Daniel knew knew that even five kilometers difference was too much for Hollander. He gave it all he had as he watched the remaining thrusters kick out one by one from overheating or lack of fuel.
Hollander watched the numbers too, and noticed the difference in speed close in, from twenty six kilometers per hour, to twenty two, nineteen, sixteen, and then finally fourteen. It wasn’t quite the ten kilometer per hour difference he wanted, but it would have to do.
They all watched as the details of the alien ship became crystal clear until it passed the forward cameras that supplied the common view to the bridge.
Within a few seconds, they all heard a very faint and dull metallic thunk as the alien ship struck WF221, and Hollander said, “Are there any cameras we can switch to that would give us some more information?”
Jumal was already searching for cameras that still worked, and finally finding one he switched views. A side view of a now slowly rotating alien craft, with its nose compressed where it hit WF221, was displayed on the monitor. Hollander looked at the craft with longing, wishing there was some way he could tractor it to the bay he no longer had.
‘No use delaying the inevitable’, he thought, and was about to call up one of the other WF ships when the communications officer interrupted his thinking.
“Sir, I have a tug on the comm. He’s asking if we need any help.”
“Put him on general bridge comm.” Hollander couldn’t believe his luck.
“This is Hollander. You offered your services?”
“You need tow?” a definitely Russian sounding voice asked.
“I certainly do, but… how did you know?”
“I watch. Show very good. But I want to see boom so ending not so good. Still, I can help!”
The bridge crew broke out in laughter.
“You want I take funny ship to WF224?”
“One moment…What’s your name?” Hollander asked.
“Ivan Leschenko, Captain. My friends say Loosechange.”
Hollander signaled to cut the comm, and after turning to Bishop he mouthed the words ‘Loosechange?’ and smiled. Bishop shrugged his shoulders and smiled but didn’t comment. At that moment the Ensign that Hollander had sent out earlier to search for Dickens walked through the bridge blast doors with a sheepish looking Dickens in tow.
“Dickens! Am I happy to see you!” Hollander blurted out before he could curb his enthusiasm. “I need to…” and now he considerably toned down his delivery, “ask you for a report over the events that just happened, but before that, I have a question. That ship on the viewscreen – do you think that could fit through the battery exchange doors behind engineering?”
The batteries were massive units that provided emergency backup power for the ship in case of a total loss of power from the generators and were housed in a special area in cargo. The cargo area provided access to a doorlock for their fuel resupply or exchange when needed. They were all alive because of them, the backup generator and Dickens’ quick thinking.
Dickens looked at the alien ship and his eyes widened. A smile quickly appeared on his face, and he said, “Yes SIR! I’ll make it fit if I have to!”
Before Hollander could say another word, Dickens ran off to the generator room to get things ready.
Hollander smiled and signaled for the comm to reopen. “Pilot Leschenko, I mean, Loosechange! Thank you for waiting. The Battery bay doors will be opening any second. Please deposit the ship there.”
“Sir, we help. I send weirdo ship to WF224 and report findings to you! We have…we have…crackpot team…” the bridge crew broke out in guffaws with this, “you are short on… powerman as you fix ship…” More laughter broke out, and Hollander had a hard time keeping a straight face.
“I appreciate the offer for help… uh,… Loosechange, but seeing as half our ship is missing, our chief engineer does seem to have time on his hands. But you can send your team of…” and now Hollander couldn’t help letting a laugh break out, “…crackpots over whenever your Captain would like.”
More laughter broke out as Leschenko cursed under his breath. “Yes sir, Battery bay doors. I get message. Loosechange out.”
Hollander knew the Russian Captain on WF224 personally, having played poker with him once a month for the last seven years when time and distance permitted. He also knew that their team was good, and that they would no doubt share all the information they got with him, but this was a piece of good luck in a week of bad luck, and it would boost ship morale. They would be in space-dock soon once they orbited Nady, and that would give them time to do all the repairs they could, considering half the ship was missing. In the meantime, they had an alien ship to study, and if the hunch Hollander had was correct, they would indeed get lucky.
The first officer sat there looking at the viewscreen that displayed the tug carefully guiding the alien craft through the battery bay doors. Within moments, the craft was in, hooked up to the crane and the doors closed.
“First Officer Bishop, you have the bridge,” Hollander said.
“Yes sir!” Bishop wasn’t surprised the Captain was leaving. He would have left himself if he could.
“Daniel,” Bishop said. “Let’s get this ship heading toward Nady. Comm, all tugs. I need a push to Nady. Any help offered automatically includes an invitation to the Famous Friday Night Poker table.”
The tug pilots started calling in and setting up positions, and Daniel reported that most thrusters had been refueled and reset.
Bishop let his mind wander to the events that occurred this past week. He had no idea who had died, and he knew that the time was very close for mourning their dead. Yet he knew it had nothing to do with Captain Hollander, and he had complete confidence in him. For as long as he’d known him, Hollander had always followed the book to the letter. Even when he was off duty he still wore his uniform and refused to be at ease. He was a professional soldier one-hundred percent of the time and he loved every minute of it. Bishop was sure that this was the reason why he had never married – it would have interfered with his true love. The whole crew admired him and knew him to be firm but fair, believing and adhering to order amid chaos in the galaxy.
Bishop watched the progress of the tugs as they latched on and synchronized their pull.
Nady was two days away at the best of tug speed, and he had no idea on how long it would be before WF221 would be space worthy.
Thoughts of Jack and Scratch hovered in his mind and troubled his conscience, even though there was nothing he or anyone else could have done. Setting up the Jackson-Briggs maneuver and actually pulling it off was brilliant, as was the confirmed destruction of 351 alien vessels. It’s too bad she wouldn’t be around to argue about killing rights.
Bishop’s thoughts were interrupted as Captain Hollander paged him on his personal comm.
“Bishop, I know that you’d be down here if you had the chance, so I thought I’d fill you in. The Jackson-Brigg maneuver caused this ship to lose all power as you probably guessed. What we didn’t know is that the memory units in the ship are literally frozen, unable to function but also unable to dump any information they have stored.”
Hollander waited for this to sink in.
“Can the information be retrieved?” Bishop asked.
“I would say yes, but it won’t be easy. However, Dickens is sure that he’ll have most of it by tomorrow night. Oh, and as soon as the medical team gets a chance they’ll perform an autopsy on the dead ant’s brain.”
Bishop leaned back, too stunned to think. Almost every ship they had ever captured had their data banks erased automatically, but this was a pure stroke of luck. If the ship was technologically advanced, the information contained in it would be extremely useful. Bishop was sure that the next few hours would pass very slowly. “Let me know if something interesting comes up,” he told Hollander.
“You’ll be the first to know, Mr. Bishop,” Hollander said.
Bishop kept himself busy reading reports on the ship damage, preparing condolence letters for the families of the lost pilots, and organizing a list of the most important items to be repaired at Nady Spacedock. The list was long and continuously edited as inventories at the Spacedock were checked, and a surprise comment by the Nady committee needed clarification and approval by the Captain, but a few hours later Bishop had most of the major stuff worked out. He had been mostly successful at keeping the alien craft out of his mind, so he was surprised to see Hollander come into the bridge red-faced and out of breath.
“Mr. Bishop, a word please?” he said.
Bishop got up and walked with Hollander past the blast doors and into the hallway where they could have some privacy.
“I’m telling you this because I promised to tell you first.” Hollander looked Bishop squarely in the eyes. “The aliens think they know where Earth is.” Twice in one day Bishop was at a loss for words. He stood there looking at Hollander, and he finally muttered, “Are you sure?”
“As sure as the aliens are. I just checked, and there is a star where sol is supposed to be, and it certainly jives with all our other information. I’m having cartography quietly looking into this to see if that star has planets circling it, but I’m pretty sure I know the answer.”
“Why would this ship have that information? They normally supply information as needed.”
“Well, there’s more,” Hollander continued. “The ship had detailed plans on its goals and targets as part of a larger attack. A lot of information simply wasn’t given, such as the time of the event and so on, but enough was there to tell me they plan to attack Earth and finish the job this time.”
Bishop was surprised once again. Not only did Earth really exist, but there were humans still on it.
“Is that confirmed in their data banks, that there are people still alive on the planet?” This was a key question, as they both understood the ramification of this point if it were true – that Earth could indeed sustain life once again.
“Data indicates no ambiguity. There are people alive on Earth, and they apparently consider them a considerable threat. They not only intend to destroy Earth, but are already in the process of making this happen.”
Once he regained his composure, he said, “So, when we jumped into that solar system, we didn’t know there was an alien hive there. But we also caught them by surprise as they prepared an all out attack on Earth. That’s why there were so many ships there. Was it only this hive participating, or would more become involved?”
“Based on past experience, they pull out all the stops on a major attack. Although their initial use of resources would be great, they don’t like losing either, and they lost on their initial objective of taking over the planet seven hundred years ago. They won’t make the same mistake twice. Either that, or they have something we don’t know about that may be giving them confidence. Also, did you notice anything missing in this last attack?”
“Yes, actually. There were only eight capital ships – the others were Destroyer Class attack ships, and of course the orbital platform we destroyed. THAT worries me. I hope you’re wrong about them having a trick up their mandibles. Do you think this information could have been planted?” Bishop said.
“It’s possible, but very unlikely considering the circumstances. But it is something we have to consider. Either way, we have to make it to Earth before they do. The earliest anyone can jump there is in two weeks, what with the need for all ships to refuel and repair, not to mention our own situation here,” Hollander added.
“Actually, our own situation may be slightly better than we thought. They are ahead of schedule on the construction of WF389 and the rear half has just been jumped here for assembly. Unfortunately, a fission meltdown on Epsilon 5 has caused a halt on all work until radiation can be cleaned up. The front half will be delayed for more than a year. There is talk of using the rear for ourselves. It would be relatively simple. Estimates are that one and a half weeks would be sufficient to link the two. In the meantime, perhaps we can send a jump capable scout…”
“I feel like I’ve won the lottery twice today,” Hollander said. He considered the issue, knowing full well that their ships were all built in segments and fully compatible with each other, something that survival in space demanded.
He nodded and said, “I saw the rear half in orbit at Nady, and the thought did cross my mind, although I didn’t think anyone would agree to it. But considering the delay it’s certainly possible now. And the Scout is a good idea too. Nice to have a little look around before the party comes to dinner… I’m meeting with all the Captains. We have to elect a new Commander and I have to share this information with all of them. I’ll mention the scout and WF389. In the meantime, I’ll have to delay your visit to the alien ship for a bit longer, Dave. And, keep this to yourself,” Hollander smiled, knowing that Dave Bishop was dying to take a look.