Wings of steele 4 dark c.., p.40
Wings of Steele 4: Dark Cover, page 40
It helped having Allie around. A little. But she was stuck in the instinctual canine remorse and she didn't have the logical advantage he had. Well, sometimes it was an advantage - sometimes it was a plague. Still, he looked forward to seeing her. Ragnaar had been taking care of her and proved to be the best friend the two Shepherds had on the ship; making sure they had the food, water, exercise and human interaction they needed. Outside of his size and gruff exterior, the ex-pirate turned out to be a largely misunderstood teddy bear.
Ragnaar lifted an eyebrow, wrinkling the tattoo across his face, “Tore you bandage off again, huh?”
“Fell off,” grumbled Fritz.
“Sure it did,” remarked the big man with skepticism, taking a knee in the grass of the ship's small garden. Allie wandered around on her own. “Paw,” he demanded, holding out his hand. Fritz sat and boldly handed over his paw. “Not this one,” Ragnaar let it drop, pointing at the other one, “that one.” Fritz tentatively held it out as ordered, allowing the man to examine it, looking between his toes and checking his pads. He was gentle in the process, humming to himself, something Fritz found rather soothing. “It's healing well. I think you can go without a new bandage...” He pointed towards Allie, “Go play, let me check in with the bridge...”
■ ■ ■
After merely five minutes alone Ragnaar returned to the two dogs who sat in front of him as he dropped to a crouch, “Listen you two, there's something going on - I have to head to the bridge.” He patted the two of them simultaneously, “Fritz, can you look after Lady Allie for me? Take her to see Cookie in the galley, he'll make sure you both get something to eat...”
Fritz nodded. Not only could he communicate with Allie in canine body language, actions, gestures and dog-speak, he also knew her human commands, which she obeyed well. “O-kay,” he annunciated.
“You two be good,” he said, giving them one last affectionate tussle before rising.
They watched him go before returning to their interrupted socializing and exploration of the garden. They leaned on each other, pushing and nudging as they roamed, never straying more than a few feet from one another.
As predicted, the man in the galley nicknamed Cookie, a pale, wiry man, with an orange-red crewcut and a ready smile, had a sizable portion of eggs and sausage for each of them. He generously took time away from the counter and other crew members to be sure the German Shepherds had whatever they needed before returning to his duties. Side-by-side, the two dogs politely ate their fill, occasionally looking up from their food to check their surroundings. When the lights flickered momentarily, they took no notice.
■ ■ ■
Ragnaar flagged the Marine sentry at the bridge entrance, returning a casual salute, passing through the automatic doors as they split down the middle and disappeared into the bulkheads.
Lieutenant Commander Reegan looked relieved as the Lieutenant entered the dimly illuminated bridge, crew members faces awash in the light of their stations, “Ah, Mr. Ragnaar, please take the helm.”
The satiny, translucent silver lining of the jump tunnel on the big screen, reflected hues of wavering gold and deep copper, errant streaks of light passing across the ship's bow. Ragnaar eyed it with curiosity. “Helm, aye.” The Ensign at the helm relinquished her seat with a nod, looking exhausted, requiring the Lieutenant to take immediate manual control of the ship as it wandered off course, working to maintain attitude and direction. The ship shuddered, the nose wavering and he flipped a questioning glance over his shoulder, “Skipper? Are we experiencing solar wind? In a transition tunnel?”
“Yes, Mr. Ragnaar.”
“This is not good. Is not good at all...”
“I am aware of that, Lieutenant.”
“Distance to Gate?” he inquired, leaning to his right to look at the navigator's screens, maintaining his hands on the manual flight controls.
“Only three hours,” replied Reegan. “We are hoping the tunnel will mitigate the event.”
“It will not,” countered Ragnaar,
“It appears a star perpendicular to our route has experienced an SPE,” Solar Proton Event, offered the Ensign at astrometrics. “It occurred four hours after entering the gate From Edenlight to Madrassas...”
“No travel advisories?”
“Within moments of the occurrence being recorded...” replied the Ensign.
“But nothing pre-event?” Ragnaar was busy adjusting attitude thrusters to stabilize the ship and reduce the need for constant correction but the solar winds were not constant and fought his best efforts.
Reegan sipped a cold coffee, making a face of distaste before responding, “There is no way to tell if it was a monitored star or not, Lieutenant. And being in a gate transition, we have no way of telling from our position, which star it might be. It may even be from a star in null space - if there are any in null space that is.”
Ragnaar eyed the rosy copper coloring on the right side of the satiny, translucent lining of the jump tunnel, “I do not believe we will make it to the gate, Commander. I advise that we break Dark Protocol and inform Admiral Higdenberger of our situation...”
“I'm afraid that's impossible, Lieutenant,” replied Reegan, “the interference is too heavy, we're dark whether we want to be or not. We've even lost sensor contact with the DD217 ahead of us.”
“How close were we when we lost contact?”
“We had nearly caught up with her in Edenlight; she entered the gate just three hours before us. She should be fairly near the exit to Madrassas...”
“Commander, I suggest we increase speed in an effort to reduce our time in the tunnel...”
“We are already at maximum safe protocol for transition, Lieutenant.”
“Yes sir, we are. But I will remind you that the protocols are a broad fit, mean average, for all ship types and sizes. Our overall size, mass and energy wake, do not compare to something, for instance, the size of a capital ship. Smaller ships like the Perseus are penalized unnecessarily; our safe margin is easily twenty-five to thirty-five percent higher than the prescribed protocols.”
Commander Reegan rubbed the stubble on his jaw in contemplation, “Hmm, I trust your judgment, Lieutenant. And it makes sense.” He nodded toward the screen, “Let's push it...”
■ ■ ■
Something was wrong, Fritz could sense it. He could feel it. He paused in the middle of the corridor, Allie stopping next to him, looking at him with curiosity. She moved around him, trying to get him to look at her. He closed his eyes and concentrated, relaxing... he could feel movement beneath his feet, a gentle swaying that was so subtle, he nearly missed it, oblivious to the sensation when he was on the move. He continued on, quickening his stride, Allie keeping pace. “Hurry Allie...” Instinctually, he headed for the state room he shared with his human - whether it was the safest place or not, it was the most familiar, and therefore comforting.
■ ■ ■
As if it was birthing a ship through fire, the mass of undulating, swirling, crimson, orange and yellow plasma exploded, the jump event spilling the DD217 out into space, short-lived tendrils of energy dragging across her hull. The bridge lights flickered, half of the ship's systems going dark.
Commander T. B. Yafusco was on his feet next to his command chair, one hand on the armrest, glancing down at his darkened command screens, “Did we make it? Did we make it? Where are we..?”
“Madrassas, Commander. We made it.”
Tibby put his hands on top of his head, inhaling deeply, letting it out through his teeth, “Thank the Gods...” He let his hands drop loosely to his sides and looked out at the Madrassas System stretched out before them. “I've never been so relieved to see normal space.”
Sitting in the first mate's seat, Grinah cleared her parched throat, “I've never seen a gate corona like that, it looked like we were on fire...”
“Frightening,” muttered Tibby, replaying it in his head, “a total absence of more than half of the color spectrum, I've never seen anything like it.”
“Damage reports coming in,” noted Grinah, tapping on her ear piece. “Main propulsion down, thrusters only. Shields off line. Point defense systems off line, main gun batteries down...”
Tibby laid his hand on the shoulder of the helmsman in front of him, “Do you have manual control?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Good, point us at Lindmore, it's the fourth planet. Just keep us moving.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Do we have communications?” he asked of no one in particular.
“No. Internal comms only, and no sensors, Commander.”
Tibby sat casually on the arm of his chair, “Alright people, let's get things back up and running here. As soon as we have communications, send out a travel advisory for the Madrassas - Edenlight jump corridor. Show it as temporarily impassable...”
“What about that ship that was behind us?” whispered Grinah. “You think they'll make it?”
“I don't know,” he replied, looking pensive. “After we get up and running again, maybe we'll loop back towards the gate and see if they've cleared it. Nothing else we can do. When they disappeared it could have been the level of sensor interference we had, or they may have fallen out of jump.” He glanced around the darkened bridge, “And at this point, even if they do appear in the next two or three hours, we're in no condition to help them until we get ourselves squared away.”
Grinah leaned in, “I guess those people we dropped at Amanpoor will be stuck waiting for transports if they're heading to Bengaloo through Edenlight for pickup...”
Tibby shrugged, “We don't know if all of Edenlight is affected, but if they're coming through Madrassas to use this gate,” he thumbed over his shoulder, “they'll be waiting a while. Not that it's our problem,” he waved, “we made the drop and we got paid. Which puts us solidly in the black, by the way,” he added, rubbing his fingers together like he was rubbing a coin. Glancing around at the bridge again, he indicated with a nod, “As long as this doesn't cost us a bunch of credits to fix...”
■ ■ ■
Ragnaar's adjustments were nearly constant, no amount of thruster trim could compensate for the solar winds that seemed to ebb and flow. Having experienced much the same type of occurrence in open space with much different effect, he was convinced the difficulty had something to do with being in the confines of the jump tunnel. A stabilized worm-hole made of energy, anchored at each end by generators in the form of gates, he was sure there was a mathematical equation to calculate the resulting disturbance of a Solar Proton Event beating on a Genesis Gate's jump tunnel, but it was well beyond his mathematical abilities. There were people who could handle that math, he just wasn't one of them.
The Ensign at astrometrics spun in her seat, “Commander, I'm reading a marked increase in both helium and HZE ions...”
Reegan glanced at his screens, the estimated time to the gate was still about an hour and a half away. “Cause?” He was pretty certain he already knew the answer.
“The leading edge of a Coronal Mass Ejection.”
Though it was not the answer he wanted to hear. “Going to yellow alert,” he warned, tapping his control panel. Yellow lights flashed throughout the ship, the warning tone sounding briefly, security and compartment doors closing automatically, protecting the various sections of the ship.
The bridge crew eyed the flaring walls of the jump tunnel as it appeared to waver, changing from a rosy copper to a deep red, waves of bright red and orange swirling and pulsing in ever-changing patterns.
Having run nearly the length of the ship, Commander Derrik Brighton appeared on the bridge, out of breath, “What's going on? Have we caught the bastards?”
Reegan motioned toward the screen, “No...” He lowered his voice, “But this little chase of yours just might be the end of us.”
“What are you talking about, Reegan?” his name spoken with animosity.
Without words, Reegan rose from his command chair, the two men roughly equal in height and size, he moved the GIS agent to the back of the bridge by a vice-like grip on his elbow. “I've had about as much as I'm going to take from you...”
Brighton tore his arm free, posturing aggressively, “In case you've forgotten who I...”
“No I haven't forgotten anything, Mr. Brithauz.” interrupted Reegan, unflinchingly. “You're Higdenberger's darling little spy. Personally, I don't know why, you haven't made a decent call since you stepped aboard the Perseus. My ship...”
“My mission,” asserted Derrik.
“What... you mean chasing down planetary terrorists on a ship that we were unable to confirm was carrying them? Because you chose to abandon members of the team, our team, that was attempting to gather that information. Is that the mission you're referring to?”
Brighton took an indignant posture, “You are fully aware that Higdenberger approved that action.”
Reegan leaned in close, “Because you lied to him. And you omitted details that were crucial to him assessing the real situation to get the answer you wanted.” Reegan saw the flicker of surprise that flashed across the GIS agent's face. “Yeah, thought no one knew about that private little call you made..?”
“How...”
“I told you,” interrupted Reegan, “this is my ship. My crew. I find everything out eventually. You are just a guest here - and at this point, an unwanted guest. Push me. Go ahead. I promise you won't like the results.” His peripheral vision registered the arrival of two Marine sentries, “If, if, we make it out of this mess,” he indicated the big screen, “we are heading back to Bengaloo by the fastest route to collect the people you decided to abandon.”
“They weren't mission critical...”
“Neither are you,” Reegan reminded him. “And right now, survival has replaced mission. Because this is the position your decisions have put us in. Believe me when I say, you have no friends here.” He repositioned himself, stepping back, “Let me ask you something, have you ever been to null space. Know anyone who has?”
Derrik folded his arms defiantly, “Null space is simply the space beyond the marked systems, the un-navigated space between known space. It's not some bloody mysterious place with no space,” he waved his hands mockingly, “it's not limbo space for cripe's sake.”
Reegan's mouth curled on one side, “You'd better hope not, or I'm going to make sure you're the first one to experience it first-hand...” He glanced at the Marine to his right, “Confined to quarters. No visitors.”
“Is that a threat, Reegan?” snapped Derrik, as the Marines took control of him. “You heard him, he threatened to space me...”
The Marines were stone-faced, “I didn't hear anything,” said one, turning to the other, “did you?” The only reply was a silent head shake. “Nope,” said the first, “we didn't hear anything.”
Reegan turned away to head back to his command chair and paused mid-step, “Make it the brig, gentlemen...”
■ ■ ■
Commander T. B. Yafusco and Ensign Grinah returned to the bridge from the Captain's ready room, Lieutenant Dash Zarnev currently occupying the command chair. “What's our status, Lieutenant?”
Dash glanced over his shoulder, “We're making progress, Skipper. Shields are up...”
Tibby was saw the warm glow of the shields on the starboard side of the ship, “I see that.”
“As you've noticed,” he indicated the view screen, “we're still experiencing effects of the solar storm, which have gotten more intense. Sensors are picking up increased ion activity.”
“We have sensors back? Wonderful...”
“We have comms back on line as well, but transmission and reception is highly distorted. We haven't successfully reached out at all yet. Main drives are going through restart protocol,” he rose from the seat to relinquish it to Yafusco, moving over to the first mate's chair, “so we should be under way in about half an hour.”
Grinah stood behind Tibby's chair, her hands resting on his shoulders, “What about our weapons systems?”
Dash Zarnev held no animosity to being questioned by Grinah, even though she was a subordinate officer - everyone on the ship knew the relationship between Grinah and Yafusco. No one questioned her authority; when she spoke, it might just as well have come from the Skipper himself. Besides, she never took advantage of her position, it was more like they were a command team - and they worked well together. “Weapons systems come right after engine startup, ma'am. We prioritized flight over fight, and we have eaten through most of our stock of spare bio-relays, but we still have some left. We hope to get the greater portion of the weapons systems back on line.”
“Shopping list?”
“Yes ma'am, the Skipper has one I started on his right screen, probably about the third or fourth tab down,” he pointed.
“Let's hope Lindmore will have what we need,” commented Tibby, paging to the list.
■ ■ ■
It was only forty-five minutes to Madrassas gate when Commander Reegan looked up from his command screens, prompted by the collective gasp of the bridge crew, fixated on the big screen. A massive gap appeared on the right side of the jump tunnel, darkness and flecks of light visible as the normally silver satin wall, turned fire red, orange and yellow, dissolving like melting nylon, disappearing...
