Firelance
19th Oct 01, 8:01 PM
This was originally created under my old/boardwar alias of Paktu. It's still the same story and the same writer, so bear in mind that Paktu is still writing it. Thank you for waiting...
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1
Captain Richard Drake was preceding down cramped corridors of a civilian transport vessel. He would've preferred something less Spartan, but civilians had to save cash to help buy commodities or to afford hydrogen, deuterium or tritium fuels for their fusion drives. The ship shook violently with every thrust adjustment, sometimes rattling badly enough for hull breach alarms to sound. Captain Drake finally made his way into the cockpit of the transport. There were three stations on the bridge. One was directly ahead of him, and this was the conn. Tactical station was to the left of him, its occupant probably sleeping. The Ship Systems Manager station was to Drake's right.
"Hello Captain Drake, we're nearing the Lunar Shipyards. We should be there in five minutes. We had a close call with an asteroid not on the solar orbital charts, but three quick throttle up sequences got us clear. With our current speed of 4 km/s, we should be seeing the shipyards . . . now," Adrian Smith, captain and helmsmen of the United Earth Coalition Vessel "Mercury Runner" said. "We normally don't take passengers. We just run cargo for profit. A good load of titanium ore from the asteroid fields to the shipyards can fetch anywhere from 200 to 300 million credits. The problem is we have to spend 100 million credits on our raw hydrogen fuel and another 50 million trying to get this vessel paid off. She's not as elegant as one of these navy destroyers or cruisers, but she's the best ore hauler this side of the Oort Cloud. She can also achieve 1/4th light speed, which makes the trip faster. If you can talk to some shipyard commanders, can you ask them to outfit me with one of those new military-style antimatter injectors? They could help me operate at near light speed."
"I don't think I'm authorized even to talk to the commanders unless they ask for me personally. The lunar colonies still have a grudge against Earth after the Lunar War of 2108 and wouldn't take kindly to an Earth resident barging in and demanding to see the Shipyard Commanders without some kind of urgency," Drake replied.
"Oh well. Maybe I can bribe someone in Galactic Intelligence to smuggle one out with the money I'm getting from the military hauling your sorry butt around," Smith replied. He flipped a switch and grabbed a headset. "This is the U.E.C.V Mercury Runner to Shipyard Control. We have a full cargo bay full of titanium ore and a passenger under military registration #4562243 and are requesting clearance to dock."
"We have you confirmed on the ore and passenger. You will immediately open your airlock doors when the air seal is confirmed and allow the passenger to attend a briefing. You're cleared to dock on docking pad 32. Have a pleasant day ‘Mercury Runner' and have a safe landing," Shipyard Control radioed back. The "Mercury Runner" continued its course, then began orbiting the moon in parallel to the orbiting facilities. Capital ships of varying sizes from small patrol cruisers to prototype dreadnoughts that rival the firepower of some intergalactic races, all on one vessel. Mining vessels were constantly docking, with escort fighters in formation nearby. A large carrier under the designation "Independence" was docking at one of the only massive ship docking ports. Lunar Shipyards only had four operational and were designed for carriers, dreadnoughts and battle cruisers.
"Here we are, docking pad 32. Docking gets a little rough so hold onto something or buckle yourself into the tactical station," Smith replied.
"He's right you know. Once, we nearly lost structural integrity during docking and a cargo hold burst open, spilling titanium ore all over the place," Ship Systems Manager Kurt Williams replied. "It took a lot of reserve power to get us out of serious trouble, but that's the least of it. We were buried under a lot of paperwork and had several meetings with the Sol System Safety Board. For helping the military with transporting you, our safety record is wiped clean."
"That's a comforting thought," Drake muttered as he buckled himself into the Tactical station. The "Mercury Runner" came down on its landing legs, making a loud creaking sound like a rickety barge on the blue oceans of Earth. Captain Drake immediately got up and went toward the airlock doors. He left the cockpit and proceeded along the bland corridors of the "Mercury Runner." The airlock was 5 feet away when the green light bulb above its door went green. It suddenly opened as crews with anti-gravity cargo hauling containers moved through to the cargo bay, beginning to load ore into them. Drake pushed past one team and dodged another. He entered the windowless airlock connector, the metal scaffolding clanking loudly with every step.
"Captain Richard Drake, please report to briefing room 4 immediately, please. All personnel taking the 0400 transport to the Europa Orbital Research Facility on Inter-Solar Extraterrestrial Study Trip, please grab your belongings and hop aboard immediately," The intercom blared. Drake looked at his watch, noting it was almost 0355, meaning that the tourists would have to get onboard real fast(unless the pilot had to go to the men's room). He walked down the corridors, which were more colorful than in the old tin can he flew in on.
Drake read off the briefing room numbers as he passed by them. One . . . two . . . three . . . four. Drake turned toward the door, adjusted his tie and rank bars on his uniform. He entered the room and closed the door. He saw Admiral Ivanov of the 5th Task Force, known for its prototype vessels and long-range exploration programs, like the famous one to the Orion Nebula, where a large and ancient star-ship junkyard was. New technology, like the new military-issue antimatter injectors and Advanced Missile Launcher(the Adv. Missile Launcher used less fuel wasted during launch by firing the missiles via a mass driver, then activating and guiding themselves into the target). Admiral Ivanov stood up, shook Drake's hand, then sat.
"Captain, I called you here on one of the most dangerous missions ever envisioned in the United Earth Coalition fleet. We are giving you command of an advanced long-range strike carrier, the first in her line. She's called the U.E.C.V Frontier, of the Phoenix-class strike carriers. She's already ready for her proving run. They're just laying down the carpeting and shipping the furniture in now. Rumor has it they're installing a captain's private library just for the hell of it. It would replace the ready room you're familiar with, but you'll need it for the long trip," Ivanov said in a heavy Russian accent.
"Sorry for interrupting, but what is the mission's destination?" Drake said, cutting the Admiral off.
"I have encoded your mission into the computer systems. After 1 hour on antimatter-cruise drives on heading 112.4, it will become decoded and available for viewing. We have equipped your vessel for any problems it will face, with three squadrons of pilots, two squadrons in fighters and the other in bombers. I cannot speak any more of the mission, it could already be in danger of being sabotaged," Ivanov spoke silently.
"Let's go to this strike carrier. I want to see her for myself," Captain Drake said. He was really interested in it. He had only read papers about the possibility of compacting a full-sized carrier into the size of a destroyer.
"As you wish, Captain," Ivanov replied. He got up and opened the door for Drake to leave the room, which he did. The door shut behind the Admiral as they went toward the main capital ship docking array.
"She's a beautiful vessel Captain. I hope you put her to good use for the sake of the mission," Ivanov spoke, still in a silent tone. This terrified Drake. What was the Admiral worried about? Was there some sort of threat regarding the mission, its destination or it's objective? He would find out later.
"Here she is Captain, the pride of the 5th task force, the U.E.C.V Frontier," Admiral Ivanov said, pulling the curtain off an external window. Drake walked over and looked out. He saw a medium-sized vessel, 2,500 feet long from bow to stern, and colored in the official U.E.C naval colors of. The command section was shaped like a thin oval looking from the top, the engine section divided from the command section by a small, thin "neck."
Suddenly, the doorway to the observation/transport pods opened. Ivanov and Drake entered the pod and the door shut. It swung around the side of the command section, revealing the flight-deck launch/land doors. They were on the front of the strike-carrier, making launch easy, but landing difficult. The pod moved toward the Frontier's airlock now, which was opening its outer doors. The pod docked and opened its airlock when the atmosphere-indication lights came on. The airlock opened and Drake walked thru. Ivanov remained in the pod, which was beginning to leave.
"Enjoy your new command, Captain Drake. She won't disappoint you," Ivanov yelled after Drake as the doors shut. Drake looked at the hallway in which he was standing. Electricians were working on testing the lighting system's using the computer terminal nearby. Access panels were lying everywhere, making movement almost impossible. Engineers were installing the last of the plasma conduits that supplied power to several key ship systems. Their translucent cover material glowed a soft yellow and orange as plasma traveled down them.
"Welcome aboard the Frontier captain. I am this vessel's chief engineer Lt. Albert Stevenson. It's an honor to have a top-honor graduate of the Rhode Island Academy of Spaceflight and Combat onboard and commanding her," A short, stocky engineer said, saluting Drake before shaking his hand. "You entered the last section that was still being finished. Wait until you see the engine section," Lt. Stevenson continued.
"I'm sorry. I'd love to, but I have to visit the bridge. How long until we can engage antimatter-cruse drives?" Drake asked. Drake secretly hoped the rest of the crew didn't want him to gallivant around the ship, gawking like a tourist in the "big city," as history books put it.
"45 minutes after we uncouple with the shipyards. They're loading us up with five times the normal amount of antimatter it takes to traverse our territorial space. Any reason why, sir?" Lt. Stevenson asked inquisitively.
"All I know is that command has a mission for us so secret, all I have at the present time are orders to reach a certain location. Carry on with your work, Lieutenant," Drake said. Drake jumped over several more access panels before he reached the ladder up. He began climbing, harnessing his safety line to an electro-magnetic emergency brake. If an emergency came up, all he would have to do is yell "emergency stop" and it would brake. If he wanted to disengage the brake, he would have to say "release". He climbed 3 decks in 40 seconds, climbing real fast up 3 of the 7 decks the command section had.
Decks 1 and 2 housed the bridge section and crew quarters. It resided on the top-most portion of the vessel. Decks 3 and 4 contained the air locks, cargo bays and engine room access hallway across the "neck". Decks 6 and 7 housed the pilot quarters, hangar bay, construction facilities, research center and the launch/land doors. Drake would explore the rest of the ship after they had begun their mission.
"Captain on the bridge," An officer yelled. The bridge crew snapped to attention and saluted the captain. Drake got up the ladder, disconnected the harness and walked to the center of the bridge.
"At ease people. Let me get one thing across before we go on our antimatter-cruise drive test: Don't snap to attention, just stay at your post. Anyway, it annoys the hell out of me. If there's a high ranking member of Naval Command on the ship, do it then. However, I have reason to believe we won't run into them for a long time. Alright, now that we have that out of the way, sign off... rank, name and posting," Drake said. His bridge crew relaxed before they began to speak one-by-one.
"Commander Frank Williams, 1st officer," A tall, athletic man with a buzz-cut said in a heavy British accent. "I was assigned to your vessel for my experience in extreme-duration space flights, including the one to the Orion Graveyard."
"Lt. Commander Julius Brown, Tactical Officer," A short, thin, geek-ish in a way man said. He appeared to have just come from the training courses at an academy, but had moved his way up to Lieutenant fast. "I was assigned for no particular reason." The officers laughed for a bit, then silenced.
"Private Lisa Monroe, Helm Operator," A tall, thin woman with short brown said. "I was assigned for excellent performance in tactical maneuvers and nebula navigation."
"Lieutenant Jake Durant, Ships Systems Operator," A short, stocky aged man said. He looked like he could be an admiral. He had a short beard that was greyish in color and had a bald spot. "I was personally assigned for my expertise in survival mode practices with energy consumption."
"Alright, take your positions. Engineering, we're about to cast off from the shipyards. Get the antimatter-cruise drive online in 10 minutes," Drake ordered. He sat down in his chair and opened up communications with Shipyard Control. "This is the U.E.C.V Frontier asking for permission to launch from destroyer docking bay #47. We await separation from the main support beams," Drake said.
"Copy that Frontier. Releasing docking clamps on the beams. Have a pleasant day," Shipyard Control said. The clamps released loudly and the hum of the fusion drives reverberated across all decks.
"Engineering, we have a reverberation from the engines. Is there any way to correct?" Drake intercom radioed engineering. An engine hum reverberation throughout the ship might be caused by a faulty injector or a dampener malfunction.
"There is one way to fix it, captain. We've just found the problem, the antimatter injector came loose on the primary fusion drive. We're fixing it now. Tell helm to use thrusters for the next... 30 seconds," Lt. Stevenson replied. "Work on deck 3 is complete now, so you won't have to step over so many access panels." The bridge crew laughed some more.
"Ok, you heard the man. Take us out of here on thrusters, speed of roughly 100 kph," Drake ordered. The reverberation stopped suddenly, meaning that the injector had been sealed back into it's normal position.
"Bridge, this is engineering. You have full fusion and antimatter cruise-drive capabilities. Captain, this ship's maximum fusion speed has been predicted to be 40 km/s. Her cruise-drives can push 100 light-years per day, just like her destroyer sisters," Lt. Stevenson said.
"Alright, all hands, this is the captain... prepare for immediate jump to antimatter cruise-drive," Drake intercom radioed across all decks. The strike-carrier left the shipyard as the cruise-drives came online. Specially made energy-based deflectors were coming online. They would deflect asteroids, comets or space dust during cruise-drive usage. The engines began to burn a blue-white fusion flame, then the Frontier shot off toward the destination that would decrypt the mission.
Drake got up after the ship was successfully into FTL speeds. "I have barely seen any of the ship. I will be back in an hour or so, before we reach our destination. Helm, what's our ETA to preprogramed coordinates?" Drake asked Private Monroe.
"Sir, ETA to destination is 5 hours. Our travel distance will be 50 light-years. It still amazes me that we can go this fast on just matter/antimatter reactions," Private Monroe said.
Lt. Durant spoke up. "We use special emitters along the hull which help us pass from one point in space to another, like a wormhole in ancient science fiction movies. We need the antimatter reactions to get us to the needed speeds to effectively use the emitters," he explained. "Without it, the United Earth Coalition wouldn't span the 1,000 light-years it currently controls."
"Now that the quantum mechanics class is over, I'm going to tour the Frontier. Commander Williams, you're in charge of the bridge while I'm away. If we encounter anything hostile or we approach our destination, contact me immediately," Drake ordered.
"Aye sir," Commander Williams said. "Current time is 0317 hours. We'll call you up at 0815." Drake nodded and walked out the door to his private library. By Admiral Ivanov's request, copies of the well known literary titles ever created like the Iliad, War and Peace, Jurassic Park, Timeline, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and the Homeworld Trilogy, were to be placed on the shelves. Drake entered the room and marveled at the elegance. The room was almost as large as the bridge, but had carpeting and bookshelves running along the wall. There was an oak desk, finely crafted, sitting near one of the walls with a plush velvet chair. Two leather chairs were on the other side of the desk, just in case the captain had visitors. In addition, a laptop with infrared access to the ship's main computer sat on the desk. Drake also eyed the door access to his quarters near the desk. The desk, Drake noticed, was bolted to the floor. Obviously, no one had great confidence in the gravity control systems.
Drake entered his quarters. They were also very favorable. The walls were a soft grey color with paintings on the walls. One was a portrait of the planet Jupiter. The other a sketch of the Frontier herself, half-completed and berthed at the shipyards with construction shuttles moving all around her. Drake noticed all of his personal affects were in boxes.
"Ivanov must've had these placed in here," Drake said to himself loudly. His bed was in the corner, the intercom and dinner section in another. Drake picked up a list of intercom frequencies for different sections of the ship.
01. Bridge
02. Engineering
03. Galley
04. Mess Hall
05. Conference Room
06. Research Lab
07. Cargo Bay
08. Environmental Control
09. Medical Bay
00. Operator
Drake noted these and planned to make a copy the next morning if he had time. He noticed that there was no cooking center in the dinning area.
"There must be a room service or take-out in the galley," Drake thought to himself. He noticed that his bed had an official United Earth Coalition-issued bedspread. He laughed silently at this as he left out the door. He entered the hallway and proceeded to the inter-deck ladder.
"Captain, this is Lt. Stevenson down in engineering. If you have a minute, I'd like to give you a tour of the engineering section," Drake's communicator blared, interrupting the quiet humming of the fluorescent lights.
"I'm heading there now, Drake out," Drake said, tapping his communicator slightly to "hang up". Drake then began the short climb down to deck 3, then began walking across the "neck". Security personal saluted Drake as he proceeded down the hallway. This annoyed Drake greatly. He then entered the main doorway into engineering.
"Ah, welcome to the heart of the ship," Lt. Stevenson said, shaking Drake's hand. Drake withdrew his hand and then began the long, tedious tour.
"This is the primary fusion drive system," Lt. Stevenson said, pointing to a large metallic sphere. It had electromagnetic rings surrounding it, keeping the plasma from interacting with the walls. Thick glass separated the work stations from the core itself, with a heavy lead emergency door above the main access to the drive. "Over the years, we've eliminated the coolant systems altogether. Now the only thing keeping the core from melting down is these electromagnetic rings around the core and propulsion conduits. If we ever lose emergency power, we'll have to eject the core or lose risking the ship."
"Where is the antimatter stored?" Drake asked.
"In these greyish-black pods over here," Lt. Stevenson said. He pointed to several racks of pods near the core. "They have electromagnetic coils, but they use an emergency power cell to keep the system running long enough to activate/restore emergency power. It's also used to keep the pod's stable if we must eject them. Without them, we'd lose antimatter cruise drives and we wouldn't be able to get out of the area before a shockwave tore us apart."
"Post security teams around the pods. Whatever this mission of ours is, I don't want to jeopardize it before it begins," Drake ordered. "Also, keep main power active. It's your top priority."
"Aye sir, on both items," Lt. Stevenson said, saluting Drake. Drake became annoyed once more. "Does this conclude our tour?"
"Aye again, sir. Come down here any time you want," Lt. Stevenson said. Drake nodded and headed for the ‘neck'. Drake noticed the sign at the neck with MESS HALL written on it and an arrow. He noticed he was famished, and he probably needed to eat. He followed the arrows and climbed to deck two. Right below the bridge, there was the mess hall. The walls were a bright peach color with a mess line running along the right-hand side of the room. 5 crewmen were sitting down, enjoying their meals and talking to one another cheerfully. "They're probably off-duty," Drake thought. He entered the empty food line and lifted the covers on a food bin.
"Ugh, what is this stuff?" Drake said out-loud, raising a spoon and tipping it, spilling the grey-white blob that grew into the shape of the digging part of the spoon. It smacked into the bin, rejoining the ‘mother blob'.
"That sir, is Coalition-issued gruel number 567," a crewman said, smiling as he took a bite of the stuff that was sitting on his plate. This sickened Drake immediately. "I had better when I was running my own personal ship," Drake muttered.
"Suit yourself. After you get past the slimy layering, it gets kinda chunky. Besides, it's not the initial taste that's bad . . . it's the aftertaste that'll ruin your day," The crewman said tauntingly, spooning another load of the garbage into his mouth. Drake had it. He shut the bin lid, walked over to the crewman and took out his lighter. "What are you doing, sir?" the crewman asked in alarm.
"I'm burning a bio-contaminant," Drake replied. The gruel caught on fire immediately and burned into cinders. The fats and oils popped and crackled as the fire reached them. Drake walked back to the bins and opened the gruel bin up and lit its contents on fire too.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" cried a voice behind Drake. He turned around to see four people in fire suits and brandishing fire extinguishers enter the room and put the crewman's lunch out before approaching him. "You do realize we can't exchange the air with the outside until we reach a habitable planet or space station, right?" A figure asked Drake.
"This garbage is unfit for human consumption. I was just removing it from the ship's inventory the old-fashioned way," Drake replied, putting his lighter back into his pocket.
"And who made you ship's food inspector? I want your rank and your name, sir," The figure demanded.
"Captain Richard Drake, and you are?" Drake asked. The figure ripped off it's tinted oxygen mask to reveal a woman in her mid-50's with short, auburn-colored hair. Her eyebrows appeared to be burned off from repeated exposure to high temperature areas. It appeared that she had a scar to the left of her nose, which appeared to be a burn.
"Oh, I'm sorry if I was rude Captain. I didn't recognize you at all . . . uh . . . sorry," She said, almost stammering the whole thing out. "That's quite ok. Recognize me from what?" Drake asked.
"If I say, it'd involve me getting tossed in the brig for a week for unauthorized viewing of personal records. It's a habit that never died. Also, the name is Rachel Dreanov. My family immigrated to the former United States 172 years ago from the Russian Federation," She commented.
"I'll have something to eat in my quarters. Thanks for the information," Drake said. The intercom interrupted Drake on his way out. "Captain Drake, please report to the bridge. We're five minutes from disengaging anti-matter cruise drives," Commander Williams blared over the stillness of the mess hall. Drake turned toward the ladder and began his climb.
"Captain on the bridge," Lt. Commander Brown said. The bridge crew just glanced over and went back to their duties. Drake saw this and had a smile on his face. "We are receiving an encrypted file from the computer's time-delay buffer. It's requesting your authorization, captain."
"I'll take it in my library. Thank you Lt. Commander," Drake replied. He walked from the door to the hall to the library door and opened it. Inside, the desk glistened with polish. Even the bolts that secured it to the floor were shining. Drake walked over to his laptop and tapped the on the any key.
"This message requires a captain level authorization to see this mission briefing. Please place your fingers on the touch pad for fingerprint check. The following test will also determine wether you are alive or dead by your blood-oxygen count. This will take one second," The computer said, flashing the U.E.C symbol across the screen. A laser pulse shot from the touch pad thru his index finger and the pad got warmer as it's circuitry worked. The computer didn't lie about the time.
"Thank you Captain Richard Drake. You are authorized to see this message. From Admiral Sergei Ivanov to Captain Richard Drake," The computer said. The screen then showed star charts, tactical files and a text file with the mission profile. Drake stared at the data, dragging-and-clicking it around for more effective reading. Then he saw the mission profile and hit the intercom button to all decks.
"All senior officers and bridge officers, please report to the conference room in five minutes. I also want to speak to all strike craft wing commanders as well," Drake said into the intercom system. He raised his hand from the button and put his dress cap on and straightened his uniform.
He exited his library and proceeded to the conference room across the hall from his quarters. Already, Commander Williams and Lt. Commander Brown were sitting in their chairs, conversing over tactical strategy of all things. Private Monroe was getting herself a cup of coffee at the refreshment dispenser installed on the far wall. Lt. Stevenson entered the room next, sweat pouring down his forehead and his engineering briefcase in his hand.
"He must've ran from engineering to here and climbed very fast," Drake thought to himself. Next came a tall, thin male pilot with his flight suit on, who immediately went to the coffee machine and started talking friendly-like to Private Monroe. She was obviously annoyed and threatened softly to toss her cup of coffee into his face. The pilot backed off and came over to Drake.
"Senior Wing Commander Gerald Hook of the 67th "Spades." Nice to finally meet you sir. Fellow Wing Commanders of the 41st "Wolverines" and 102nd "Talons" are currently on patrol nearby. We just exited antimatter cruise drives and we're securing the surrounding sector, sir," Commander Hook said, saluting Drake. They shook hands and they sat down. 2 officers walked in, both with the rank of Lieutenant.
"Sir, I am Lieutenant Zukov and my best friend Lieutenant Tarokowski. We were transferred over from the U.E.C.V Vigilance, a science vessel, before the Frontier left port," One of them said in a light Russian Accent. "I'm from the Research and Development Department and Tarokowski works double posts, one in Manufacturing and the other in Science. Tarokowski also doesn't talk too much, only when he has to," Zukov said. Tarokowski looked at Zukov and then went over and sat down.
"Ok folks, I've just received orders from Admiral Ivanov. I will continuously display the information I receive via an encrypted file in our hard drive. I will read the mission details myself," Drake said in a menacing tone. The room grew silent as people wondered what came next. "Our mission is to the galactic core. Command believes whoever left the Orion Graveyard resides in the core, may it be a race or powerful being. We are to gather intelligence on them and when appropriate, first contact. If they are hostile, we are authorized to fire on them without having to contact command. Because of this term, many sects of inhabitants in the United Earth Coalition boarders have decided to attempt several attacks and even sabotage operations onboard us, having placed several of their own onboard. We can only assume that they will attempt their sabotage at a critical moment. To keep the mission proceeding, the Admiral was kind enough to keep 15 marines onboard that will act as the base for our security forces. The reason to keep this mission as secret as possible was to prevent further hostilities from other sects, possibly even the Lunar Colonies, which would've shut us down before we got away from the shipyards. The Coalition is depending on us. We cannot let them down. Private Monroe, once you reach the bridge and shipyards account for all our strike craft, engage antimatter cruise drives and take us toward the core, maximum thrust," Drake said. "Adjourned!" The gathered group left silently and immediately.
"Emergency strike craft recall! All strike craft are to dock immediately. Unless you want to spend the next 30,000,000 years getting back to Earth, I suggest you dock," Wing Commander Hook called out. Helm pressed a few buttons, but before she did, Drake had sent off a simple message to Admiral Ivanov: Frontier departing on her mission. Tell our families we'll be home soon.
*** Meanwhile in United Earth Coalition Naval Forces HQ in orbit of the Earth***
Admiral Ivanov was being dragged into a storage closet down the hallway, a blood trail following his cold, lifeless body. Two Sect rebels had invaded his office and ransacked it, looking for more information on the Frontier and her mission. The one that dragged the Admiral's body was now back in the office.
"This was a piece of cake," The rebel whispered to his pal. "All we had to do was disable their security systems and pretend to be maintenance personnel en route to fix the problem."
"Never mind that. We need to uplink the data from Ivanov's computer to our ship's computer in orbit. Once we format this hard drive, no one will know where the Frontier is and we can take her out with little resistance," The second rebel said. They finally found the files and uploaded them to their computer. During the upload, the lack of oxygen in Ivanov's hands when they used them to access the files triggered a silent alarm. Marines were already outside the door.
Elite marines kicked down the door and fired only two shots from their plasma rifles, killing both rebels. They had done their job before the rebels could format the hard drive, or send signal to their ship. Unfortunately, the rebel ship was able to transmit the data, and the assistant had deleted the Admiral's electronic mail inbox, and along with it Drake's message. It would take the U.E.C's top computer programmers a long time, maybe years, to decode the data regarding the Frontier . . . her mission was already in jeopardy . . .
* * * Back aboard the Frontier * * *
Captain Drake sat in his captain chair on the bridge. Commander Williams sat to his left, Lt. Durant was to his far right, Lt. Commander Brown was to his far left and Private Monroe was ahead left. The Science Console was empty at the moment, Lt. Tarokowski if he ever decided to come up from his laboratory in the engineering section, would use it to gather information with the ability to get his orders directly to the bridge without delay.
"Captain, my engine status display shows the engines to be running at tolerance for the cruise drives. I suggest we exit the quantum fold and power down our light drives," Private Monroe suggested.
"Ok, all stop. Drop power to the quantum fold emitters and get the antimatter drives offline for now," Drake ordered. He flipped the intercom switch to the flight deck. "This is the captain. Prepare for launch on standard sector check. You are to be scouts only, do not fire back unless you're under attack."
The "Frontier" came out of the quantum fold and came to a dead stop in space. The flight deck doors opened and a patrol group of three interceptors from the 67th fighter wing left the dock. The doors closed and they positioned themselves as a triangle around the ship. They began to orbit the mighty "Frontier" and then their orbits shifted, taking them farther and farther out.
"This is Wing Commander Hook to the bridge, the sensor display you're seeing on the main viewer at the moment is showing our current location compared to you, as well as any objects in our joint sensor range. Our interceptors are equipped with swiveling cameras that retract back into the hull for docking and atmospheric reentry. All you have to do is order the camera via computer linkup and it will swing to show the targeted object. We'd also like to report that our scans don't show anything on the long-range emitters," Hook said via inter-ship communications. "Wait, we're getting something on long-range. A civilian U.E.C transport and three interceptors. They're not displaying IFF codes and they're not responding to hails."
"All hands, this is the bridge, we're going to Alert Status 2. Secure general quarters and be prepared for an attack on us. Flight deck, launch the other four interceptors of the 67th fighter wing now," Drake said on the intercom. The Frontier's mighty arsenal came online to help combat the problem. She sported ten missile launch tubes along her curved primary hull; eight point-defense mass-drivers and a single-weapon only used in capital ship battle: The Advanced Particle Beam, or A.P.B.
The A.P.B was designed with extreme forward power in mind to combat capital ships. A single beam no larger than twenty meters in circumference consisting of heavy element ions would be accelerated via electro-magnetic containment fields from it's generator on deck three to space via vacuum-cooled conduit. It could only fire in one direction, and it had the power to punch thru the armor of a frigate on the first try and get out the other side. The narrowness of the beam meant it couldn't do a whole boatload of damage to the whole of the enemy vessel, but was enough to punch out key-systems. Unfortunately, it charged five minutes between each shot. Drake knew that five minutes was a lot of time in battle, and many only lasted one to two minutes tops. Lt. Commander Brown would have to get the perfect shot if they came across another capital ship that wasn't too friendly.
"Lt. Zukov, I'd like to see you in the conference room in two hours, or 1800 hours, unless we've secured from general quarters that is," Drake said into the intercom, the switch flipped to the Research and Development Laboratory in the engineering section. The sensor display on the main viewer showed the 3 unidentified fighter craft in a V-formation around the transport.
"We have to assume that the transport is carrying marines or a large explosive device. I'll be able to tell if Lt. Durant would perform a quick, directed deep scan of the transport," Lt. Commander Brown said. "And to think I could've gotten a command onboard a science vessel and had less fun than I am now," he said jokingly.
"That is quite enough jokes right now Lt. Commander," Drake said. "When we secure from general quarters, we can discuss a stand-up comedy routine in the conference room for those who will pay." The bridge crew, other than Lt. Commander Brown, laughed a bit.
"Sir, deep scan completed. The transport is going to try to set us up the bomb! It's a simple antimatter device. When the proximity fuse onboard it detects a large mass signature, the electro-magnetic containment field goes down and we get extreme damage," Durant said quickly. "Suggested course of action is to disable the ship, then destroy it later."
"You heard him Wing Commander Hook, take them out," Drake ordered. "Do not blow the transport up or your whole wing is going to get a nice memorial."
"Understood sir! Engaging the fighters first, then the transport. Her engines are external, which means taking them out will be a breeze," Hook replied. "Tallyho! Task force within visual range. 3 old-style SF-46Bs and 1 already confirmed civilian-style transport. Good thing we're SF-50As ladies, or we would be S.O.L." The fighters began their attack run. They strafed the fighters, getting them to pull off and engage. 3 fighters from the "Frontier" chased after each individual enemy fighter while a solitary SF-50A glided past the transport. It fired at the external engine pods raised above and behind the fuselage, taking them completely out in a matter of seconds.
"Ok folks, the transport is disabled and venting plasma to space. I don't believe it, we're being hailed," Hook said in alarm. "Transferring the signal to you captain." A figure in a flight suit sitting down at it's console took up a third of the view screen.
"Hello Captain, I am the Weapons Control Officer onboard the Rebel Suicide Ship ‘Martyr' and would like to announce our surrender. The aft section containing our antimatter bomb has been exposed to space and the bomb was sucked into the void. We're wearing environmental suits at the present time and that means our mission is a dud," The figure spoke. "We only have reserve air for another 20 minutes and we're surrendering."
"Suicide ship, eh? Well, we could always let you die in space but it wouldn't be too good if it wasn't for the cause... We'll send a salvage drone to tow you in after we perform another deep scan of your vessel to determine you aren't playing us as fools," Drake said to the figure. "Be very thankful we're doing this, ‘Frontier' out." Durant performed another deep scan of the transport and determined there was no more bomb and that no ECM systems were operational onboard the drifting transport. A salvage drone launched from the flight deck and attached itself to the hull and towed it back to the "Frontier".
* Meanwhile on the flight deck*
"Marines, are you ready to rumble!?" A United Earth Coalition Marine with the rank of Lieutenant yelled. His subordinates yelled back replies and they got cover in the flight deck's many places to ‘dig in' at. The outer doors opened and their environmental suits expanded in response. They decreased pressure to their suits to avoid looking like giant marshmallows with plasma rifles. This also decreased their chance of being hit by a stray round, which would mean almost certain death or injury in this environment. Plasma rounds were extremely efficient at blasting large amounts of pressure suit off someone's hide, making repairs in a vacuum futile. The rebel transport was sent drifting into the bay and gravity pulled the damaged wreck onto the flight deck. The outer doors closed and pressure was restored.
"Ok ladies, these guys are surrendering without a fight. Escort these men to the brig, captain's orders. Make sure they get their own deluxe suite," The marine lieutenant ordered. He held his rifle up to face the prisoners as they left the damaged transport. The rebel's hands were on their head as they were grabbed suddenly and led off to the brig complex on deck 4, next to the cargo bay...
* * * Two Hours Later * * *
"Welcome captain, to the former U.E.C.V Dresden," An engineer said in a welcoming way. He was inside the rebel suicide ship and was attempting to access the computer banks. "She's not much now, but we can reverse-engineer her systems and possibly produce a custom corvette-sized vessel. We'd have to use her former name as the basis for the classification, but that's the least of our problems."
"What is the worst of our problems?" Drake asked inquisitively.
"The pilot of the interceptor that blew off the engines did a nice job of it. Not only did he destroy the engines, but he took out their casings and support beams. I can fix the problem by attaching the engines under a small stubby wing near the back. I'll have to contact Lt. Zukov down at his laboratory and get his team working on the problem. The other problem is this computer system. It's has passwords in every subsystem. Seems our friends were all to willing to cease up the computer systems at our expense," The engineer replied. "I can't get anything to work, not even the schematics database. When the pilots return, you better give them the good news that they nearly killed something on this sortie. She could've gone up like a firework if a stray shot hit the bomb on it's way out."
"Keep me posted. How long would it take to reproduce armed replicas of the U.E.C.V Dresden?" Drake asked as he stood in the doorway, turned toward the engineer but truly facing the way out.
"1 week minimum. Our construction bays are fully AI controlled and can begin production on the press of a button," The engineer replied. Drake left the damaged transport and took the ladder up to the brig. He entered and turned toward the guards.
"Bring them with me. We're going to the airlock just down the hall," Drake ordered. The guards yanked their prisoners off the floor and escorted them to the airlock. Drake took up a position next to the controls and turned around to face the prisoners.
"Gentlemen, you are charged with one count each of treason under Intergalactic Criminal Penal Law. Your punishment is death. I will give you 2 chances to escape death. Do you have anything to say in your defense?" Drake asked them. All the prisoners could do was scream. "I guess that's nothing." Drake pointed to the nearest rebel. "Your rank, name and position onboard your vessel for the record before you're exposed to the cold vacuum of space."
"I am Acting Captain Frank Griffin of the Dresden. I demand to be kept imprisoned until we reach the next base in good health under the New Geneva Convention," The rebel said. He struggled with his guards, who tossed him into the airlock chamber and shut and locked the door. The rebel captain looked in horror as Drake took the cover off the outer door's opening switch.
"Your last chance. If you want us to spare your life, agree to help us with whatever we want regarding this so-called "rebellion" and your disabled vessel," Drake said in a menacing tone. The Acting Captain could only scream. Drake flipped the switch and the rebel was sucked into space. He had taken a deep breath before the outer door opened and exploded before he exited the door. Window wipers cleared the windows of debris and fluid as the outer door closed. "Next prisoner, rank, name and position onboard your vessel."
"Lt. Vernon Jacobs, Tactical Officer. Hello again captain. Getting cheap thrills from killing my captain before my and my colleague's eyes?" A guard hit Vernon on the back of his head with his rifle and both guards placed him inside the airlock barely awake.
"Same deal. You talk, and we'll spare your life," Drake said. Vernon Jacobs' last act was to stick up his middle finger in Drake's direction. Drake pressed the button and this time, the rebel floated into space kicking and attempting to scream. The door closed and Drake turned toward the last rebel officer.
"Private Johnson Price, and I will talk sir. I am the Dresden's Ship Systems Operator, I can help you access any system you need accessed and some tactical data on our fleet capabilities," The remaining rebel replied to Drake's always constant "questioning".
"Guards, take him back to his cell, we'll get to him later. Be thankful that you decided to be more talkative than your colleagues. Also, no one in this corridor is to speak of these acts unless they discuss it with me first. If you do, you are as guilty as the one who ordered it. Is that clear ladies?" Drake asked loudly, like a marine officer. The guards saluted in response and marched the prisoner back to his cell.
Drake looked back toward the blood-covered airlock and hit the intercom button. "This is Captain Drake, we need a cleaning crew to the deck 4 airlock. 2 of the rebels tried to escape and got cornered in the airlock. They pulled small pocket knives and tried to rush us. We flushed them into space. Thank you." Drake looked back into the airlock once more... no remorse... no guilt... he felt good about flushing those men out into space.
* * * Several Hours Later * * *
"Interrogation complete. Those fighters originating from the planet Hydreti, in the habitable zone of the edge of this sector," Lt. Commander Brown reported. "That civilian transport and those fighters were part of the local garrison and port. They have no construction capability and the threat analysis is low. We also extracted the password to the "Dresden". Her computer database will be uploaded to a secure partition of the main computer memory for further analysis."
"Very good. Keep me aware of the situation. I'll be in my quarters," Drake said. He climbed up from deck 3 to deck 1. He cut his climbing time from the bottom to the top of the ship from 30 seconds to 15 seconds. He was practicing this everyday, just in case the call came out for battle stations and he had to move quickly to save the ship.
"Captain on the bridge," Lt. Durant called out. Some people stood at attention. Others just looked up and looked back to what they were doing.
"At ease. I told you not to stand at attention. If this were a battle, we'd all be dead now if I just entered the bridge.
"Ok sir," responded those at attention.
"Helm, engage antimatter cruise drives, we're going to cross the threshold," Drake ordered.
"Aye sir, taking us to optimum quantum emitter speeds," Private Monroe said. The fighters on patrol began to dock quickly as the Frontier began to accelerate. The last one successfully docked just before the Frontier went above 100 km/s.
"Speeds approaching 1/3rd the speed of light. 2/3rds... We're now at light speed, quantum emitters coming online," Monroe reported.
"All systems nominal. Hull integrity at optimal status. All decks report status green," Lt. Durant reported.
"No hostile vessels on sensors. Tactical giving the go-ahead," Lt. Commander Brown reported. The Frontier's quantum emitters came online just as the vessel hit light speed. The quantum fold enveloped the vessel and it disappeared completely.
"10 seconds until we hit the Threshold. 5 seconds and... we're clear!" Monroe reported.
"Very good. Put the ship on auto-navigation. Private Monroe, Lt. Commander Brown and Commander Williams, you are relieved until we come out of the quantum fold in 12 hours. Lt. Durant, you have the bridge. I'll be in my quarters," Drake ordered. All of them left the bridge.
Drake took off his uniform's shirt and hung it over a chair near a dinner table. He kicked off his uniform shoes and laid down on his bed. Thoughts of the day were ringing through his mind just as his lost consciousness and fell fast asleep...
==============================================
1
Captain Richard Drake was preceding down cramped corridors of a civilian transport vessel. He would've preferred something less Spartan, but civilians had to save cash to help buy commodities or to afford hydrogen, deuterium or tritium fuels for their fusion drives. The ship shook violently with every thrust adjustment, sometimes rattling badly enough for hull breach alarms to sound. Captain Drake finally made his way into the cockpit of the transport. There were three stations on the bridge. One was directly ahead of him, and this was the conn. Tactical station was to the left of him, its occupant probably sleeping. The Ship Systems Manager station was to Drake's right.
"Hello Captain Drake, we're nearing the Lunar Shipyards. We should be there in five minutes. We had a close call with an asteroid not on the solar orbital charts, but three quick throttle up sequences got us clear. With our current speed of 4 km/s, we should be seeing the shipyards . . . now," Adrian Smith, captain and helmsmen of the United Earth Coalition Vessel "Mercury Runner" said. "We normally don't take passengers. We just run cargo for profit. A good load of titanium ore from the asteroid fields to the shipyards can fetch anywhere from 200 to 300 million credits. The problem is we have to spend 100 million credits on our raw hydrogen fuel and another 50 million trying to get this vessel paid off. She's not as elegant as one of these navy destroyers or cruisers, but she's the best ore hauler this side of the Oort Cloud. She can also achieve 1/4th light speed, which makes the trip faster. If you can talk to some shipyard commanders, can you ask them to outfit me with one of those new military-style antimatter injectors? They could help me operate at near light speed."
"I don't think I'm authorized even to talk to the commanders unless they ask for me personally. The lunar colonies still have a grudge against Earth after the Lunar War of 2108 and wouldn't take kindly to an Earth resident barging in and demanding to see the Shipyard Commanders without some kind of urgency," Drake replied.
"Oh well. Maybe I can bribe someone in Galactic Intelligence to smuggle one out with the money I'm getting from the military hauling your sorry butt around," Smith replied. He flipped a switch and grabbed a headset. "This is the U.E.C.V Mercury Runner to Shipyard Control. We have a full cargo bay full of titanium ore and a passenger under military registration #4562243 and are requesting clearance to dock."
"We have you confirmed on the ore and passenger. You will immediately open your airlock doors when the air seal is confirmed and allow the passenger to attend a briefing. You're cleared to dock on docking pad 32. Have a pleasant day ‘Mercury Runner' and have a safe landing," Shipyard Control radioed back. The "Mercury Runner" continued its course, then began orbiting the moon in parallel to the orbiting facilities. Capital ships of varying sizes from small patrol cruisers to prototype dreadnoughts that rival the firepower of some intergalactic races, all on one vessel. Mining vessels were constantly docking, with escort fighters in formation nearby. A large carrier under the designation "Independence" was docking at one of the only massive ship docking ports. Lunar Shipyards only had four operational and were designed for carriers, dreadnoughts and battle cruisers.
"Here we are, docking pad 32. Docking gets a little rough so hold onto something or buckle yourself into the tactical station," Smith replied.
"He's right you know. Once, we nearly lost structural integrity during docking and a cargo hold burst open, spilling titanium ore all over the place," Ship Systems Manager Kurt Williams replied. "It took a lot of reserve power to get us out of serious trouble, but that's the least of it. We were buried under a lot of paperwork and had several meetings with the Sol System Safety Board. For helping the military with transporting you, our safety record is wiped clean."
"That's a comforting thought," Drake muttered as he buckled himself into the Tactical station. The "Mercury Runner" came down on its landing legs, making a loud creaking sound like a rickety barge on the blue oceans of Earth. Captain Drake immediately got up and went toward the airlock doors. He left the cockpit and proceeded along the bland corridors of the "Mercury Runner." The airlock was 5 feet away when the green light bulb above its door went green. It suddenly opened as crews with anti-gravity cargo hauling containers moved through to the cargo bay, beginning to load ore into them. Drake pushed past one team and dodged another. He entered the windowless airlock connector, the metal scaffolding clanking loudly with every step.
"Captain Richard Drake, please report to briefing room 4 immediately, please. All personnel taking the 0400 transport to the Europa Orbital Research Facility on Inter-Solar Extraterrestrial Study Trip, please grab your belongings and hop aboard immediately," The intercom blared. Drake looked at his watch, noting it was almost 0355, meaning that the tourists would have to get onboard real fast(unless the pilot had to go to the men's room). He walked down the corridors, which were more colorful than in the old tin can he flew in on.
Drake read off the briefing room numbers as he passed by them. One . . . two . . . three . . . four. Drake turned toward the door, adjusted his tie and rank bars on his uniform. He entered the room and closed the door. He saw Admiral Ivanov of the 5th Task Force, known for its prototype vessels and long-range exploration programs, like the famous one to the Orion Nebula, where a large and ancient star-ship junkyard was. New technology, like the new military-issue antimatter injectors and Advanced Missile Launcher(the Adv. Missile Launcher used less fuel wasted during launch by firing the missiles via a mass driver, then activating and guiding themselves into the target). Admiral Ivanov stood up, shook Drake's hand, then sat.
"Captain, I called you here on one of the most dangerous missions ever envisioned in the United Earth Coalition fleet. We are giving you command of an advanced long-range strike carrier, the first in her line. She's called the U.E.C.V Frontier, of the Phoenix-class strike carriers. She's already ready for her proving run. They're just laying down the carpeting and shipping the furniture in now. Rumor has it they're installing a captain's private library just for the hell of it. It would replace the ready room you're familiar with, but you'll need it for the long trip," Ivanov said in a heavy Russian accent.
"Sorry for interrupting, but what is the mission's destination?" Drake said, cutting the Admiral off.
"I have encoded your mission into the computer systems. After 1 hour on antimatter-cruise drives on heading 112.4, it will become decoded and available for viewing. We have equipped your vessel for any problems it will face, with three squadrons of pilots, two squadrons in fighters and the other in bombers. I cannot speak any more of the mission, it could already be in danger of being sabotaged," Ivanov spoke silently.
"Let's go to this strike carrier. I want to see her for myself," Captain Drake said. He was really interested in it. He had only read papers about the possibility of compacting a full-sized carrier into the size of a destroyer.
"As you wish, Captain," Ivanov replied. He got up and opened the door for Drake to leave the room, which he did. The door shut behind the Admiral as they went toward the main capital ship docking array.
"She's a beautiful vessel Captain. I hope you put her to good use for the sake of the mission," Ivanov spoke, still in a silent tone. This terrified Drake. What was the Admiral worried about? Was there some sort of threat regarding the mission, its destination or it's objective? He would find out later.
"Here she is Captain, the pride of the 5th task force, the U.E.C.V Frontier," Admiral Ivanov said, pulling the curtain off an external window. Drake walked over and looked out. He saw a medium-sized vessel, 2,500 feet long from bow to stern, and colored in the official U.E.C naval colors of. The command section was shaped like a thin oval looking from the top, the engine section divided from the command section by a small, thin "neck."
Suddenly, the doorway to the observation/transport pods opened. Ivanov and Drake entered the pod and the door shut. It swung around the side of the command section, revealing the flight-deck launch/land doors. They were on the front of the strike-carrier, making launch easy, but landing difficult. The pod moved toward the Frontier's airlock now, which was opening its outer doors. The pod docked and opened its airlock when the atmosphere-indication lights came on. The airlock opened and Drake walked thru. Ivanov remained in the pod, which was beginning to leave.
"Enjoy your new command, Captain Drake. She won't disappoint you," Ivanov yelled after Drake as the doors shut. Drake looked at the hallway in which he was standing. Electricians were working on testing the lighting system's using the computer terminal nearby. Access panels were lying everywhere, making movement almost impossible. Engineers were installing the last of the plasma conduits that supplied power to several key ship systems. Their translucent cover material glowed a soft yellow and orange as plasma traveled down them.
"Welcome aboard the Frontier captain. I am this vessel's chief engineer Lt. Albert Stevenson. It's an honor to have a top-honor graduate of the Rhode Island Academy of Spaceflight and Combat onboard and commanding her," A short, stocky engineer said, saluting Drake before shaking his hand. "You entered the last section that was still being finished. Wait until you see the engine section," Lt. Stevenson continued.
"I'm sorry. I'd love to, but I have to visit the bridge. How long until we can engage antimatter-cruse drives?" Drake asked. Drake secretly hoped the rest of the crew didn't want him to gallivant around the ship, gawking like a tourist in the "big city," as history books put it.
"45 minutes after we uncouple with the shipyards. They're loading us up with five times the normal amount of antimatter it takes to traverse our territorial space. Any reason why, sir?" Lt. Stevenson asked inquisitively.
"All I know is that command has a mission for us so secret, all I have at the present time are orders to reach a certain location. Carry on with your work, Lieutenant," Drake said. Drake jumped over several more access panels before he reached the ladder up. He began climbing, harnessing his safety line to an electro-magnetic emergency brake. If an emergency came up, all he would have to do is yell "emergency stop" and it would brake. If he wanted to disengage the brake, he would have to say "release". He climbed 3 decks in 40 seconds, climbing real fast up 3 of the 7 decks the command section had.
Decks 1 and 2 housed the bridge section and crew quarters. It resided on the top-most portion of the vessel. Decks 3 and 4 contained the air locks, cargo bays and engine room access hallway across the "neck". Decks 6 and 7 housed the pilot quarters, hangar bay, construction facilities, research center and the launch/land doors. Drake would explore the rest of the ship after they had begun their mission.
"Captain on the bridge," An officer yelled. The bridge crew snapped to attention and saluted the captain. Drake got up the ladder, disconnected the harness and walked to the center of the bridge.
"At ease people. Let me get one thing across before we go on our antimatter-cruise drive test: Don't snap to attention, just stay at your post. Anyway, it annoys the hell out of me. If there's a high ranking member of Naval Command on the ship, do it then. However, I have reason to believe we won't run into them for a long time. Alright, now that we have that out of the way, sign off... rank, name and posting," Drake said. His bridge crew relaxed before they began to speak one-by-one.
"Commander Frank Williams, 1st officer," A tall, athletic man with a buzz-cut said in a heavy British accent. "I was assigned to your vessel for my experience in extreme-duration space flights, including the one to the Orion Graveyard."
"Lt. Commander Julius Brown, Tactical Officer," A short, thin, geek-ish in a way man said. He appeared to have just come from the training courses at an academy, but had moved his way up to Lieutenant fast. "I was assigned for no particular reason." The officers laughed for a bit, then silenced.
"Private Lisa Monroe, Helm Operator," A tall, thin woman with short brown said. "I was assigned for excellent performance in tactical maneuvers and nebula navigation."
"Lieutenant Jake Durant, Ships Systems Operator," A short, stocky aged man said. He looked like he could be an admiral. He had a short beard that was greyish in color and had a bald spot. "I was personally assigned for my expertise in survival mode practices with energy consumption."
"Alright, take your positions. Engineering, we're about to cast off from the shipyards. Get the antimatter-cruise drive online in 10 minutes," Drake ordered. He sat down in his chair and opened up communications with Shipyard Control. "This is the U.E.C.V Frontier asking for permission to launch from destroyer docking bay #47. We await separation from the main support beams," Drake said.
"Copy that Frontier. Releasing docking clamps on the beams. Have a pleasant day," Shipyard Control said. The clamps released loudly and the hum of the fusion drives reverberated across all decks.
"Engineering, we have a reverberation from the engines. Is there any way to correct?" Drake intercom radioed engineering. An engine hum reverberation throughout the ship might be caused by a faulty injector or a dampener malfunction.
"There is one way to fix it, captain. We've just found the problem, the antimatter injector came loose on the primary fusion drive. We're fixing it now. Tell helm to use thrusters for the next... 30 seconds," Lt. Stevenson replied. "Work on deck 3 is complete now, so you won't have to step over so many access panels." The bridge crew laughed some more.
"Ok, you heard the man. Take us out of here on thrusters, speed of roughly 100 kph," Drake ordered. The reverberation stopped suddenly, meaning that the injector had been sealed back into it's normal position.
"Bridge, this is engineering. You have full fusion and antimatter cruise-drive capabilities. Captain, this ship's maximum fusion speed has been predicted to be 40 km/s. Her cruise-drives can push 100 light-years per day, just like her destroyer sisters," Lt. Stevenson said.
"Alright, all hands, this is the captain... prepare for immediate jump to antimatter cruise-drive," Drake intercom radioed across all decks. The strike-carrier left the shipyard as the cruise-drives came online. Specially made energy-based deflectors were coming online. They would deflect asteroids, comets or space dust during cruise-drive usage. The engines began to burn a blue-white fusion flame, then the Frontier shot off toward the destination that would decrypt the mission.
Drake got up after the ship was successfully into FTL speeds. "I have barely seen any of the ship. I will be back in an hour or so, before we reach our destination. Helm, what's our ETA to preprogramed coordinates?" Drake asked Private Monroe.
"Sir, ETA to destination is 5 hours. Our travel distance will be 50 light-years. It still amazes me that we can go this fast on just matter/antimatter reactions," Private Monroe said.
Lt. Durant spoke up. "We use special emitters along the hull which help us pass from one point in space to another, like a wormhole in ancient science fiction movies. We need the antimatter reactions to get us to the needed speeds to effectively use the emitters," he explained. "Without it, the United Earth Coalition wouldn't span the 1,000 light-years it currently controls."
"Now that the quantum mechanics class is over, I'm going to tour the Frontier. Commander Williams, you're in charge of the bridge while I'm away. If we encounter anything hostile or we approach our destination, contact me immediately," Drake ordered.
"Aye sir," Commander Williams said. "Current time is 0317 hours. We'll call you up at 0815." Drake nodded and walked out the door to his private library. By Admiral Ivanov's request, copies of the well known literary titles ever created like the Iliad, War and Peace, Jurassic Park, Timeline, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and the Homeworld Trilogy, were to be placed on the shelves. Drake entered the room and marveled at the elegance. The room was almost as large as the bridge, but had carpeting and bookshelves running along the wall. There was an oak desk, finely crafted, sitting near one of the walls with a plush velvet chair. Two leather chairs were on the other side of the desk, just in case the captain had visitors. In addition, a laptop with infrared access to the ship's main computer sat on the desk. Drake also eyed the door access to his quarters near the desk. The desk, Drake noticed, was bolted to the floor. Obviously, no one had great confidence in the gravity control systems.
Drake entered his quarters. They were also very favorable. The walls were a soft grey color with paintings on the walls. One was a portrait of the planet Jupiter. The other a sketch of the Frontier herself, half-completed and berthed at the shipyards with construction shuttles moving all around her. Drake noticed all of his personal affects were in boxes.
"Ivanov must've had these placed in here," Drake said to himself loudly. His bed was in the corner, the intercom and dinner section in another. Drake picked up a list of intercom frequencies for different sections of the ship.
01. Bridge
02. Engineering
03. Galley
04. Mess Hall
05. Conference Room
06. Research Lab
07. Cargo Bay
08. Environmental Control
09. Medical Bay
00. Operator
Drake noted these and planned to make a copy the next morning if he had time. He noticed that there was no cooking center in the dinning area.
"There must be a room service or take-out in the galley," Drake thought to himself. He noticed that his bed had an official United Earth Coalition-issued bedspread. He laughed silently at this as he left out the door. He entered the hallway and proceeded to the inter-deck ladder.
"Captain, this is Lt. Stevenson down in engineering. If you have a minute, I'd like to give you a tour of the engineering section," Drake's communicator blared, interrupting the quiet humming of the fluorescent lights.
"I'm heading there now, Drake out," Drake said, tapping his communicator slightly to "hang up". Drake then began the short climb down to deck 3, then began walking across the "neck". Security personal saluted Drake as he proceeded down the hallway. This annoyed Drake greatly. He then entered the main doorway into engineering.
"Ah, welcome to the heart of the ship," Lt. Stevenson said, shaking Drake's hand. Drake withdrew his hand and then began the long, tedious tour.
"This is the primary fusion drive system," Lt. Stevenson said, pointing to a large metallic sphere. It had electromagnetic rings surrounding it, keeping the plasma from interacting with the walls. Thick glass separated the work stations from the core itself, with a heavy lead emergency door above the main access to the drive. "Over the years, we've eliminated the coolant systems altogether. Now the only thing keeping the core from melting down is these electromagnetic rings around the core and propulsion conduits. If we ever lose emergency power, we'll have to eject the core or lose risking the ship."
"Where is the antimatter stored?" Drake asked.
"In these greyish-black pods over here," Lt. Stevenson said. He pointed to several racks of pods near the core. "They have electromagnetic coils, but they use an emergency power cell to keep the system running long enough to activate/restore emergency power. It's also used to keep the pod's stable if we must eject them. Without them, we'd lose antimatter cruise drives and we wouldn't be able to get out of the area before a shockwave tore us apart."
"Post security teams around the pods. Whatever this mission of ours is, I don't want to jeopardize it before it begins," Drake ordered. "Also, keep main power active. It's your top priority."
"Aye sir, on both items," Lt. Stevenson said, saluting Drake. Drake became annoyed once more. "Does this conclude our tour?"
"Aye again, sir. Come down here any time you want," Lt. Stevenson said. Drake nodded and headed for the ‘neck'. Drake noticed the sign at the neck with MESS HALL written on it and an arrow. He noticed he was famished, and he probably needed to eat. He followed the arrows and climbed to deck two. Right below the bridge, there was the mess hall. The walls were a bright peach color with a mess line running along the right-hand side of the room. 5 crewmen were sitting down, enjoying their meals and talking to one another cheerfully. "They're probably off-duty," Drake thought. He entered the empty food line and lifted the covers on a food bin.
"Ugh, what is this stuff?" Drake said out-loud, raising a spoon and tipping it, spilling the grey-white blob that grew into the shape of the digging part of the spoon. It smacked into the bin, rejoining the ‘mother blob'.
"That sir, is Coalition-issued gruel number 567," a crewman said, smiling as he took a bite of the stuff that was sitting on his plate. This sickened Drake immediately. "I had better when I was running my own personal ship," Drake muttered.
"Suit yourself. After you get past the slimy layering, it gets kinda chunky. Besides, it's not the initial taste that's bad . . . it's the aftertaste that'll ruin your day," The crewman said tauntingly, spooning another load of the garbage into his mouth. Drake had it. He shut the bin lid, walked over to the crewman and took out his lighter. "What are you doing, sir?" the crewman asked in alarm.
"I'm burning a bio-contaminant," Drake replied. The gruel caught on fire immediately and burned into cinders. The fats and oils popped and crackled as the fire reached them. Drake walked back to the bins and opened the gruel bin up and lit its contents on fire too.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" cried a voice behind Drake. He turned around to see four people in fire suits and brandishing fire extinguishers enter the room and put the crewman's lunch out before approaching him. "You do realize we can't exchange the air with the outside until we reach a habitable planet or space station, right?" A figure asked Drake.
"This garbage is unfit for human consumption. I was just removing it from the ship's inventory the old-fashioned way," Drake replied, putting his lighter back into his pocket.
"And who made you ship's food inspector? I want your rank and your name, sir," The figure demanded.
"Captain Richard Drake, and you are?" Drake asked. The figure ripped off it's tinted oxygen mask to reveal a woman in her mid-50's with short, auburn-colored hair. Her eyebrows appeared to be burned off from repeated exposure to high temperature areas. It appeared that she had a scar to the left of her nose, which appeared to be a burn.
"Oh, I'm sorry if I was rude Captain. I didn't recognize you at all . . . uh . . . sorry," She said, almost stammering the whole thing out. "That's quite ok. Recognize me from what?" Drake asked.
"If I say, it'd involve me getting tossed in the brig for a week for unauthorized viewing of personal records. It's a habit that never died. Also, the name is Rachel Dreanov. My family immigrated to the former United States 172 years ago from the Russian Federation," She commented.
"I'll have something to eat in my quarters. Thanks for the information," Drake said. The intercom interrupted Drake on his way out. "Captain Drake, please report to the bridge. We're five minutes from disengaging anti-matter cruise drives," Commander Williams blared over the stillness of the mess hall. Drake turned toward the ladder and began his climb.
"Captain on the bridge," Lt. Commander Brown said. The bridge crew just glanced over and went back to their duties. Drake saw this and had a smile on his face. "We are receiving an encrypted file from the computer's time-delay buffer. It's requesting your authorization, captain."
"I'll take it in my library. Thank you Lt. Commander," Drake replied. He walked from the door to the hall to the library door and opened it. Inside, the desk glistened with polish. Even the bolts that secured it to the floor were shining. Drake walked over to his laptop and tapped the on the any key.
"This message requires a captain level authorization to see this mission briefing. Please place your fingers on the touch pad for fingerprint check. The following test will also determine wether you are alive or dead by your blood-oxygen count. This will take one second," The computer said, flashing the U.E.C symbol across the screen. A laser pulse shot from the touch pad thru his index finger and the pad got warmer as it's circuitry worked. The computer didn't lie about the time.
"Thank you Captain Richard Drake. You are authorized to see this message. From Admiral Sergei Ivanov to Captain Richard Drake," The computer said. The screen then showed star charts, tactical files and a text file with the mission profile. Drake stared at the data, dragging-and-clicking it around for more effective reading. Then he saw the mission profile and hit the intercom button to all decks.
"All senior officers and bridge officers, please report to the conference room in five minutes. I also want to speak to all strike craft wing commanders as well," Drake said into the intercom system. He raised his hand from the button and put his dress cap on and straightened his uniform.
He exited his library and proceeded to the conference room across the hall from his quarters. Already, Commander Williams and Lt. Commander Brown were sitting in their chairs, conversing over tactical strategy of all things. Private Monroe was getting herself a cup of coffee at the refreshment dispenser installed on the far wall. Lt. Stevenson entered the room next, sweat pouring down his forehead and his engineering briefcase in his hand.
"He must've ran from engineering to here and climbed very fast," Drake thought to himself. Next came a tall, thin male pilot with his flight suit on, who immediately went to the coffee machine and started talking friendly-like to Private Monroe. She was obviously annoyed and threatened softly to toss her cup of coffee into his face. The pilot backed off and came over to Drake.
"Senior Wing Commander Gerald Hook of the 67th "Spades." Nice to finally meet you sir. Fellow Wing Commanders of the 41st "Wolverines" and 102nd "Talons" are currently on patrol nearby. We just exited antimatter cruise drives and we're securing the surrounding sector, sir," Commander Hook said, saluting Drake. They shook hands and they sat down. 2 officers walked in, both with the rank of Lieutenant.
"Sir, I am Lieutenant Zukov and my best friend Lieutenant Tarokowski. We were transferred over from the U.E.C.V Vigilance, a science vessel, before the Frontier left port," One of them said in a light Russian Accent. "I'm from the Research and Development Department and Tarokowski works double posts, one in Manufacturing and the other in Science. Tarokowski also doesn't talk too much, only when he has to," Zukov said. Tarokowski looked at Zukov and then went over and sat down.
"Ok folks, I've just received orders from Admiral Ivanov. I will continuously display the information I receive via an encrypted file in our hard drive. I will read the mission details myself," Drake said in a menacing tone. The room grew silent as people wondered what came next. "Our mission is to the galactic core. Command believes whoever left the Orion Graveyard resides in the core, may it be a race or powerful being. We are to gather intelligence on them and when appropriate, first contact. If they are hostile, we are authorized to fire on them without having to contact command. Because of this term, many sects of inhabitants in the United Earth Coalition boarders have decided to attempt several attacks and even sabotage operations onboard us, having placed several of their own onboard. We can only assume that they will attempt their sabotage at a critical moment. To keep the mission proceeding, the Admiral was kind enough to keep 15 marines onboard that will act as the base for our security forces. The reason to keep this mission as secret as possible was to prevent further hostilities from other sects, possibly even the Lunar Colonies, which would've shut us down before we got away from the shipyards. The Coalition is depending on us. We cannot let them down. Private Monroe, once you reach the bridge and shipyards account for all our strike craft, engage antimatter cruise drives and take us toward the core, maximum thrust," Drake said. "Adjourned!" The gathered group left silently and immediately.
"Emergency strike craft recall! All strike craft are to dock immediately. Unless you want to spend the next 30,000,000 years getting back to Earth, I suggest you dock," Wing Commander Hook called out. Helm pressed a few buttons, but before she did, Drake had sent off a simple message to Admiral Ivanov: Frontier departing on her mission. Tell our families we'll be home soon.
*** Meanwhile in United Earth Coalition Naval Forces HQ in orbit of the Earth***
Admiral Ivanov was being dragged into a storage closet down the hallway, a blood trail following his cold, lifeless body. Two Sect rebels had invaded his office and ransacked it, looking for more information on the Frontier and her mission. The one that dragged the Admiral's body was now back in the office.
"This was a piece of cake," The rebel whispered to his pal. "All we had to do was disable their security systems and pretend to be maintenance personnel en route to fix the problem."
"Never mind that. We need to uplink the data from Ivanov's computer to our ship's computer in orbit. Once we format this hard drive, no one will know where the Frontier is and we can take her out with little resistance," The second rebel said. They finally found the files and uploaded them to their computer. During the upload, the lack of oxygen in Ivanov's hands when they used them to access the files triggered a silent alarm. Marines were already outside the door.
Elite marines kicked down the door and fired only two shots from their plasma rifles, killing both rebels. They had done their job before the rebels could format the hard drive, or send signal to their ship. Unfortunately, the rebel ship was able to transmit the data, and the assistant had deleted the Admiral's electronic mail inbox, and along with it Drake's message. It would take the U.E.C's top computer programmers a long time, maybe years, to decode the data regarding the Frontier . . . her mission was already in jeopardy . . .
* * * Back aboard the Frontier * * *
Captain Drake sat in his captain chair on the bridge. Commander Williams sat to his left, Lt. Durant was to his far right, Lt. Commander Brown was to his far left and Private Monroe was ahead left. The Science Console was empty at the moment, Lt. Tarokowski if he ever decided to come up from his laboratory in the engineering section, would use it to gather information with the ability to get his orders directly to the bridge without delay.
"Captain, my engine status display shows the engines to be running at tolerance for the cruise drives. I suggest we exit the quantum fold and power down our light drives," Private Monroe suggested.
"Ok, all stop. Drop power to the quantum fold emitters and get the antimatter drives offline for now," Drake ordered. He flipped the intercom switch to the flight deck. "This is the captain. Prepare for launch on standard sector check. You are to be scouts only, do not fire back unless you're under attack."
The "Frontier" came out of the quantum fold and came to a dead stop in space. The flight deck doors opened and a patrol group of three interceptors from the 67th fighter wing left the dock. The doors closed and they positioned themselves as a triangle around the ship. They began to orbit the mighty "Frontier" and then their orbits shifted, taking them farther and farther out.
"This is Wing Commander Hook to the bridge, the sensor display you're seeing on the main viewer at the moment is showing our current location compared to you, as well as any objects in our joint sensor range. Our interceptors are equipped with swiveling cameras that retract back into the hull for docking and atmospheric reentry. All you have to do is order the camera via computer linkup and it will swing to show the targeted object. We'd also like to report that our scans don't show anything on the long-range emitters," Hook said via inter-ship communications. "Wait, we're getting something on long-range. A civilian U.E.C transport and three interceptors. They're not displaying IFF codes and they're not responding to hails."
"All hands, this is the bridge, we're going to Alert Status 2. Secure general quarters and be prepared for an attack on us. Flight deck, launch the other four interceptors of the 67th fighter wing now," Drake said on the intercom. The Frontier's mighty arsenal came online to help combat the problem. She sported ten missile launch tubes along her curved primary hull; eight point-defense mass-drivers and a single-weapon only used in capital ship battle: The Advanced Particle Beam, or A.P.B.
The A.P.B was designed with extreme forward power in mind to combat capital ships. A single beam no larger than twenty meters in circumference consisting of heavy element ions would be accelerated via electro-magnetic containment fields from it's generator on deck three to space via vacuum-cooled conduit. It could only fire in one direction, and it had the power to punch thru the armor of a frigate on the first try and get out the other side. The narrowness of the beam meant it couldn't do a whole boatload of damage to the whole of the enemy vessel, but was enough to punch out key-systems. Unfortunately, it charged five minutes between each shot. Drake knew that five minutes was a lot of time in battle, and many only lasted one to two minutes tops. Lt. Commander Brown would have to get the perfect shot if they came across another capital ship that wasn't too friendly.
"Lt. Zukov, I'd like to see you in the conference room in two hours, or 1800 hours, unless we've secured from general quarters that is," Drake said into the intercom, the switch flipped to the Research and Development Laboratory in the engineering section. The sensor display on the main viewer showed the 3 unidentified fighter craft in a V-formation around the transport.
"We have to assume that the transport is carrying marines or a large explosive device. I'll be able to tell if Lt. Durant would perform a quick, directed deep scan of the transport," Lt. Commander Brown said. "And to think I could've gotten a command onboard a science vessel and had less fun than I am now," he said jokingly.
"That is quite enough jokes right now Lt. Commander," Drake said. "When we secure from general quarters, we can discuss a stand-up comedy routine in the conference room for those who will pay." The bridge crew, other than Lt. Commander Brown, laughed a bit.
"Sir, deep scan completed. The transport is going to try to set us up the bomb! It's a simple antimatter device. When the proximity fuse onboard it detects a large mass signature, the electro-magnetic containment field goes down and we get extreme damage," Durant said quickly. "Suggested course of action is to disable the ship, then destroy it later."
"You heard him Wing Commander Hook, take them out," Drake ordered. "Do not blow the transport up or your whole wing is going to get a nice memorial."
"Understood sir! Engaging the fighters first, then the transport. Her engines are external, which means taking them out will be a breeze," Hook replied. "Tallyho! Task force within visual range. 3 old-style SF-46Bs and 1 already confirmed civilian-style transport. Good thing we're SF-50As ladies, or we would be S.O.L." The fighters began their attack run. They strafed the fighters, getting them to pull off and engage. 3 fighters from the "Frontier" chased after each individual enemy fighter while a solitary SF-50A glided past the transport. It fired at the external engine pods raised above and behind the fuselage, taking them completely out in a matter of seconds.
"Ok folks, the transport is disabled and venting plasma to space. I don't believe it, we're being hailed," Hook said in alarm. "Transferring the signal to you captain." A figure in a flight suit sitting down at it's console took up a third of the view screen.
"Hello Captain, I am the Weapons Control Officer onboard the Rebel Suicide Ship ‘Martyr' and would like to announce our surrender. The aft section containing our antimatter bomb has been exposed to space and the bomb was sucked into the void. We're wearing environmental suits at the present time and that means our mission is a dud," The figure spoke. "We only have reserve air for another 20 minutes and we're surrendering."
"Suicide ship, eh? Well, we could always let you die in space but it wouldn't be too good if it wasn't for the cause... We'll send a salvage drone to tow you in after we perform another deep scan of your vessel to determine you aren't playing us as fools," Drake said to the figure. "Be very thankful we're doing this, ‘Frontier' out." Durant performed another deep scan of the transport and determined there was no more bomb and that no ECM systems were operational onboard the drifting transport. A salvage drone launched from the flight deck and attached itself to the hull and towed it back to the "Frontier".
* Meanwhile on the flight deck*
"Marines, are you ready to rumble!?" A United Earth Coalition Marine with the rank of Lieutenant yelled. His subordinates yelled back replies and they got cover in the flight deck's many places to ‘dig in' at. The outer doors opened and their environmental suits expanded in response. They decreased pressure to their suits to avoid looking like giant marshmallows with plasma rifles. This also decreased their chance of being hit by a stray round, which would mean almost certain death or injury in this environment. Plasma rounds were extremely efficient at blasting large amounts of pressure suit off someone's hide, making repairs in a vacuum futile. The rebel transport was sent drifting into the bay and gravity pulled the damaged wreck onto the flight deck. The outer doors closed and pressure was restored.
"Ok ladies, these guys are surrendering without a fight. Escort these men to the brig, captain's orders. Make sure they get their own deluxe suite," The marine lieutenant ordered. He held his rifle up to face the prisoners as they left the damaged transport. The rebel's hands were on their head as they were grabbed suddenly and led off to the brig complex on deck 4, next to the cargo bay...
* * * Two Hours Later * * *
"Welcome captain, to the former U.E.C.V Dresden," An engineer said in a welcoming way. He was inside the rebel suicide ship and was attempting to access the computer banks. "She's not much now, but we can reverse-engineer her systems and possibly produce a custom corvette-sized vessel. We'd have to use her former name as the basis for the classification, but that's the least of our problems."
"What is the worst of our problems?" Drake asked inquisitively.
"The pilot of the interceptor that blew off the engines did a nice job of it. Not only did he destroy the engines, but he took out their casings and support beams. I can fix the problem by attaching the engines under a small stubby wing near the back. I'll have to contact Lt. Zukov down at his laboratory and get his team working on the problem. The other problem is this computer system. It's has passwords in every subsystem. Seems our friends were all to willing to cease up the computer systems at our expense," The engineer replied. "I can't get anything to work, not even the schematics database. When the pilots return, you better give them the good news that they nearly killed something on this sortie. She could've gone up like a firework if a stray shot hit the bomb on it's way out."
"Keep me posted. How long would it take to reproduce armed replicas of the U.E.C.V Dresden?" Drake asked as he stood in the doorway, turned toward the engineer but truly facing the way out.
"1 week minimum. Our construction bays are fully AI controlled and can begin production on the press of a button," The engineer replied. Drake left the damaged transport and took the ladder up to the brig. He entered and turned toward the guards.
"Bring them with me. We're going to the airlock just down the hall," Drake ordered. The guards yanked their prisoners off the floor and escorted them to the airlock. Drake took up a position next to the controls and turned around to face the prisoners.
"Gentlemen, you are charged with one count each of treason under Intergalactic Criminal Penal Law. Your punishment is death. I will give you 2 chances to escape death. Do you have anything to say in your defense?" Drake asked them. All the prisoners could do was scream. "I guess that's nothing." Drake pointed to the nearest rebel. "Your rank, name and position onboard your vessel for the record before you're exposed to the cold vacuum of space."
"I am Acting Captain Frank Griffin of the Dresden. I demand to be kept imprisoned until we reach the next base in good health under the New Geneva Convention," The rebel said. He struggled with his guards, who tossed him into the airlock chamber and shut and locked the door. The rebel captain looked in horror as Drake took the cover off the outer door's opening switch.
"Your last chance. If you want us to spare your life, agree to help us with whatever we want regarding this so-called "rebellion" and your disabled vessel," Drake said in a menacing tone. The Acting Captain could only scream. Drake flipped the switch and the rebel was sucked into space. He had taken a deep breath before the outer door opened and exploded before he exited the door. Window wipers cleared the windows of debris and fluid as the outer door closed. "Next prisoner, rank, name and position onboard your vessel."
"Lt. Vernon Jacobs, Tactical Officer. Hello again captain. Getting cheap thrills from killing my captain before my and my colleague's eyes?" A guard hit Vernon on the back of his head with his rifle and both guards placed him inside the airlock barely awake.
"Same deal. You talk, and we'll spare your life," Drake said. Vernon Jacobs' last act was to stick up his middle finger in Drake's direction. Drake pressed the button and this time, the rebel floated into space kicking and attempting to scream. The door closed and Drake turned toward the last rebel officer.
"Private Johnson Price, and I will talk sir. I am the Dresden's Ship Systems Operator, I can help you access any system you need accessed and some tactical data on our fleet capabilities," The remaining rebel replied to Drake's always constant "questioning".
"Guards, take him back to his cell, we'll get to him later. Be thankful that you decided to be more talkative than your colleagues. Also, no one in this corridor is to speak of these acts unless they discuss it with me first. If you do, you are as guilty as the one who ordered it. Is that clear ladies?" Drake asked loudly, like a marine officer. The guards saluted in response and marched the prisoner back to his cell.
Drake looked back toward the blood-covered airlock and hit the intercom button. "This is Captain Drake, we need a cleaning crew to the deck 4 airlock. 2 of the rebels tried to escape and got cornered in the airlock. They pulled small pocket knives and tried to rush us. We flushed them into space. Thank you." Drake looked back into the airlock once more... no remorse... no guilt... he felt good about flushing those men out into space.
* * * Several Hours Later * * *
"Interrogation complete. Those fighters originating from the planet Hydreti, in the habitable zone of the edge of this sector," Lt. Commander Brown reported. "That civilian transport and those fighters were part of the local garrison and port. They have no construction capability and the threat analysis is low. We also extracted the password to the "Dresden". Her computer database will be uploaded to a secure partition of the main computer memory for further analysis."
"Very good. Keep me aware of the situation. I'll be in my quarters," Drake said. He climbed up from deck 3 to deck 1. He cut his climbing time from the bottom to the top of the ship from 30 seconds to 15 seconds. He was practicing this everyday, just in case the call came out for battle stations and he had to move quickly to save the ship.
"Captain on the bridge," Lt. Durant called out. Some people stood at attention. Others just looked up and looked back to what they were doing.
"At ease. I told you not to stand at attention. If this were a battle, we'd all be dead now if I just entered the bridge.
"Ok sir," responded those at attention.
"Helm, engage antimatter cruise drives, we're going to cross the threshold," Drake ordered.
"Aye sir, taking us to optimum quantum emitter speeds," Private Monroe said. The fighters on patrol began to dock quickly as the Frontier began to accelerate. The last one successfully docked just before the Frontier went above 100 km/s.
"Speeds approaching 1/3rd the speed of light. 2/3rds... We're now at light speed, quantum emitters coming online," Monroe reported.
"All systems nominal. Hull integrity at optimal status. All decks report status green," Lt. Durant reported.
"No hostile vessels on sensors. Tactical giving the go-ahead," Lt. Commander Brown reported. The Frontier's quantum emitters came online just as the vessel hit light speed. The quantum fold enveloped the vessel and it disappeared completely.
"10 seconds until we hit the Threshold. 5 seconds and... we're clear!" Monroe reported.
"Very good. Put the ship on auto-navigation. Private Monroe, Lt. Commander Brown and Commander Williams, you are relieved until we come out of the quantum fold in 12 hours. Lt. Durant, you have the bridge. I'll be in my quarters," Drake ordered. All of them left the bridge.
Drake took off his uniform's shirt and hung it over a chair near a dinner table. He kicked off his uniform shoes and laid down on his bed. Thoughts of the day were ringing through his mind just as his lost consciousness and fell fast asleep...