Category: Fiction

Art by Rain Elegy

Previously, a Summary …..Our Story So Far: https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2025/12/02/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-our-story-so-far/

Through the bridge clear-view panel, the Gateway appeared a bejeweled ring glinting against the Red Planet’s dull rust color. The Portal protruded from the center of the metal and glass framework; a nacreous drop-shaped pearl suspended in the ring. Its gentle iridescence belied the fact it was a cauldron of roiling energy. 

Commander Gray had dismissed Yoshi to return to Chief Freihoff in Engineering. Inexplicably, the BDP left the bridge hanging its head. 

Four Emissary fighters joined the London once she approached within fifty kilometers of the Gateway. They guided her through a tangle of ships, some moving towards or away from the Portal while others headed into or out of the Gateway’s docks. Lieutenant Ahktar-Gatewood navigated manually  through the parting cloud of ships as they yielded right of way to the escort.  

 The course headed surprisingly near to the Portal’s surface. Throwing his shoulders back, the challenge for precise flying seemingly energized him. He responded by bringing the London perilously close to the unopened face of the Portal, sure to gain the attention of Emissary Portal Command. 

Just after they cleared the face of the Portal, he received an order to turn over control of the London to two space tugs. “Lieutenant,” Commander Gray said, “you look disappointed Portal Command just ordered you to hand the London over.”

“Yes, I am, Commander.  After the special treatment by our escort, I had hoped to bring the ship in myself. But it looks like we’re being brought close to the Citadel. I presume security prohibits military ships stay under their own power this close to their headquarters.”

“You can take it easy now. You have time to sit back and appreciate the spectacle of Portal City.”

The Gateway encircled the Portal. A superstructure thirty kilometers in diameter, it rotated with an angular velocity that along with embedded particles of dark matter produced a gravitational force equal to Earth’s. Its inner surface sprouted Portal City which extended over the ring’s entire internal face. Gray, like everyone else on the bridge, stared transfixed, the city shining like a field of glinting jewels in the Portal’s light.

She turned towards Maureau. “It was good coming down from Condition Two, wasn’t it? We pushed the crew hard.”

Maureau stayed intent on the projection of the London’s course towards port. “They have done well,” he said without looking away from the display.

“Lieutenant, isn’t the city amazingly beautiful?” Gray said, addressing no one in particular. “The Portal and City are humbling.”

Akhtar-Gatewood looked at her in surprise. “Yes, Commander, it is.”

Beneath Gray’s awe lay a sadness in her voice. It caught Maureau by surprise and he glanced over at her, several times, trying to avoid being obvious. He realized he had failed being discreet when she looked back with a questioning look, forcing  him to nod to her. Her features lacked her usual, tense edge. Ever since the debrief for the ghost ship encounter, she has been very subdued. And unusually attentive to the crew.

The space tugs pushed the London  away from the Portal and around the Gateway’s edge. The beauty of Portal City’s brilliant cityscape disappeared to reveal a colorful sea of circular canopies extending like umbrellas from spires rising half a kilometer high. They bore the national colors and corporate logos of the ships docked beneath them. Gantries surrounding the spires formed a honeycombed lattice with docked ships filling the cells.

Around them, space tugs moved dozens of vessels along the canopy surface. They stopped above large gaps created when canopies retracted against their spires, allowing the tugs to safely guide ships through lanes into slips.  In other places, canopies rose back away from their spires, slowly extending behind ascending ships exiting the port. The canopies’ movement made the port’s surface look like it was breathing. 

Maureau saw turrets swivel atop the spires, their laser cannons targeting the London. He suppressed his sense of paranoia, realizing the Emissaries were bringing the London into port very close to the Citadel, directly beneath them on the interior of the Gateway. He should expect such precaution. The Emissaries sure do not hide their security measures.

The space tugs guided the London into its slip amidst an intricate swirl of machinery and people. Pinnaces carrying cargo darted between docked ships.  Transports moving VIP’s, with more status than those relying on the public subway formed traffic lanes aft the docked ships. Hundreds of spacers, their rocket packs pulsing like the flicker of fireflies, performed ship maintenance alongside robotic cargo movers.

“Commander, we need to schedule time for a briefing, before we leave the Portal,” Maureau said.  “I owe you a formal onboarding, my thoughts on command and expectations of the XO.”

“Of course, Sir,” Gray said. “That would be very helpful.” 

With the gravity of deceleration diminishing to be barely felt, the crew reached for hand holds. The ship came to a stop and locked into their slip.  Once attached to the Gateway, the grip of its centrifugal momentum flipped the gravitational force in the London, requiring the crew to swing towards the deck over their heads. This maneuver brought out a cheer from the crew. Maureau knew every one of them looked forward to leave in the city. 

Maureau studied the dock and framework of the city through the clear-view panel. Turning to Gray he said,  “Commander, proceed with check-in and set-up leave. ” He paused and thought for a moment. “How many times have you come into Portal City?”

“Only once, Sir. It was wondrous .”

“Four times for me,” Maureau said. “I had the same feeling you had. Each time in, I appreciated the city more.”

He looked over at  Lieutenant Wu. “I have a change of orders. Lieutenant, Wu. you can oversee the London’s check-in. And manage the leave schedule. Oh, and  make sure the Senator has what he needs to leave for his embassy. I am sure he is anxious to get off the London.”

Lieutenant Wu drew herself up, standing taller and looking pleased. “Yes, Sir. I will make sure the Senator gets all the assistance possible and go with him to the Embassy.”

“AIC. Maureau. Notify Lieutenant Song to ready a security team for Gray and myself. We are going to reconnoiter the dock and nearby city. At the airlock airlock bay in twenty minutes.” 

Maureau said to Gray. “Let’s step out and get a feel for the city.  For half an hour or so, get a look at the Embassy district. We are right below it. We will stay close to London, in case the Emissaries call for me. But I hope they give us time to get settled in.” 

He thought he saw the first smile by Gray with him since she became First Officer.

#

Lieutenant Song awaited Maureau and Gray at the airlock bay. Two marines accompanied her.  “Captain,” Song said. “Commander,” she added with a nod to Gray, who acknowledged her with a nod back. Song maintained a rigid formality just short of saluting. 

“At ease, Lieutenant,” Maureau said. “Commander, maybe we should bring back the salute onboard the London.” 

Gray considered. “It might be a good idea, sir. There are people who might consider our lack of deference to your rank as poor discipline.”

“Wonder who those people might be? I was just thinking out loud, Commander. This corvette is too small for that, as far as I am concerned. We’re on top of one another, constantly interacting. I do not want the crew coming to attention every time I move through their deck. We will keep things as they are.”

Through the airlock’s viewing port, bright lights revealed a potpourri of space vessels suspended from the Gateway. Most of the ships were government sloops, but some private and company yachts were interspersed. The London stood out as the only military ship, large and gaunt in comparison to others.  All the ships, except for her, were small enough to require only one tower to secure them. The London required three, albeit all of them a small fraction the size of the massive gantries securing the freighters and cruisers on the opposite side of the Gateway.

They moved through the airlock. No bridgeway extended before Maureau’s team. Instead, they moved onto an open, grated ramp leading fifteen meters to the docking bay’s gantry. Below their feet they could see the canopies spread out surrounded by blackness and stars. A stumble over the walkway’s low railing would result in a drift away from the Gateway towards the open space. But the rotational gravitational force, slightly less than earth’s, was strong enough to allow one to plant one’s feet securely on the grating. 

Maintenance personnel hovered near the London inspecting the ship. Like flickering fireflies, their backpacks pulsed blue flame as they maneuvered. Nearly across the ramp, Maureau stopped and bent over to grab the railing, keeping his gaze above him towards the port spacers over his head. Not realizing there still lingered a residual effect of the concussive blast, a wave of vertigo surprised him. He dare not look over the rail away into space. A rumbling from the City jangled  his nerves. 

Three spacers gathered around the London’s number one port wing. Having apparently found something unusual, one excitedly called for others to come over look at the rocket nozzle.

“Given our prolonged acceleration, there might be unusual rocket nozzle wear,” Gray said. “I wonder how they will report it out.”

“Let’s go talk with them,” Maureau said.  “See what they found.” He turned from the railing and, with legs apart, continued walking across the ramp like someone unsteady on a swaying ship.  A central stairwell ran through the gantry. When he reached the end of the ramp, wanting to shake his vertigo, he decided to climb the stairs inside the gantry instead of using the lift.

Song stepped next to him as he made his way up the stairs, nodded to him, and then jogged ahead. One of the guards also stepped past Maureau. “Sir, I should join Lieutenant Song.” Winded, he waved her forward. Gray stayed just behind him.

“This atmosphere takes some getting used to,” Gray said. “It has lower oxygen pressure than our ship’s.”

“You are being kind, Commander,” Maureau said, pulling on the hand rail.

Song and the marine awaited them six levels above the connecting ramp, opposite the examined rocket nozzle.  One of the gathered dock team propelled away from the London towards Song.

The spacer’s rapid glide required a hard brake to prevent crashing into them. Unfortunately, he missed his mark and collided with Song and the security officer who wrapped her arms around him. Song reflexively reached for her weapon. 

“Oh, oh!” the worker exclaimed. “No! No! So sorry, so sorry! The atmosphere seems thinner today. We’re not navigating as well as usual.”

Song appraised him quickly finding him to be no threat. Song’s officer pushed him off the landing and he had to pulse his rockets again to avoid floating back to the London.“ He drifted  up to them, slower this time, and was able to grab the tower frame before barreling into Song, though the security officer readied to tackle him again.

“This is Captain Maureau of the ULE London,” Song said.

“Honor to meet you. Sir. I’m excited to speak with a Star Force captain. Your ship is special to be docked here. I’ve never seen a military ship this close to the Citadel”

“And you are?” Gray said, stepping next to Maureau.

“Oh.  Jack Hilberry, chief of the dock team.” He wiped his hand on his suit and reached out. Maureau gave a slight bow and Hilberry sheepishly withdrew his attempted handshake, wiping against his worksuit a second time.

“We just inspected your rocket nozzles. The rocket blast melted the edges in a way I’ve never seen before. The ring of the outlet is annealed to the carbide alloy. The wear appears even, not the irregular pattern seen after many voyages.”

“Do you have concerns?” Gray said. 

Hilberry responded immediately. “Uneven wear starts to destabilize the nozzle and threatens disintegration.  We see wear like this after many voyages. Then the exhausts need overhaul.  But your new nozzles have excessive wear. I don’t know. The balanced, concentric pattern of wear might actually make the outlet stronger. Then, again, maybe not.”

Maureau, Gray, and Song shared a discerning look. If the nozzles needed replacement, there was no way they would be able to replace them in time for departure of the Task Force through the Portal. They would have to trust Yoshi on the safety of the rocket system.

Gray spoke rapidly. “Chief, our engineers will be out shortly. You don’t have to continue.  We’ll invite one of your team to our assessment.” 

“Ma’am, we need to complete our inspection. It’s our responsibility to the Port Authority. We’ll keep out of the way of your engineers.”

“You made a nice pickup,” Maureau piped in. “I ask you to not report the rim finding until our team has a chance to go over the London. Let us see if they find the wear. Have you found anything else we will need to know about?”

“No, Sir. So far, your ship looks to be in good shape. Do you want to see the wear on the rims?”

“We’ll inspect the nozzles later, Chief. Good work.” Turning to his team, Maureau said, “Let’s go see the city. ”

  #

They slowly clambered “up” the gantry stairwell to the dock level, the Gateway’s outermost infrastructure layer. As they neared the dock, a faint hum grew louder. Stepping out of the stairway, the Gateway’s curved fifty meters above their heads. The dock sloped upwards keeping parallel to the Gateway’s framework. Some ships extended beyond the deck approaching the infrastructure.

“Commander Gray,” a winded Maureau said, “you invited Chief Hilberry to be part of our analysis of nozzle-wear. That is good. We always need to treat port spacers respectfully and acknowledge their work. They will see that kind of damage in the future.” 

Light from the Portal seeped through openings in the infrastructure. In the thin air, the demarcation of light and shadow was severe, giving the light the appearance of spotlights. 

A stairway wound up the side of a shaft to the internal surface of the Gateway. As they walked towards the shaft, the low hum transmuted into a rumble punctuated with shouts. “Sounds like a large crowd above us,” Gray said.

“And something smells good.” Maureau stepped into the light and looked up. ”A festival? Let’s…”

They all flinched as an Emissary appeared out of the shadows near the stairwell. Maureau wondered how he had missed the Emissary standing so close to the exit of the gantry. He turned and approached the Emissary. “Are you here to escort Captain Maureau to the Citadel?” he said.

The Emissary turned slightly,  Maureau’s reflection moving into the middle of their mirrored helmet shield. “No, Captain Maureau. I am here for the security of the London. Your escort will arrive later.”

“Your posting here is good,” Maureau said, bowing slightly. “Will the Emissaries be providing a security detail the entire time we are here?”

The Emissary remained still. Maureau wondered if they had heard his question. After an uncomfortable silence, they said, “We will.”

Maureau had many questions to ask the Emissaries, but one did not talk to a sentry on duty unless they initiated the conversation. This armored sentry had nothing to say.

“Let your command know we appreciate the security,” Maureau again said, again bowing.

“Let’s take the lift to the inner surface,” Maureau said. “There is one near that shaft’s stairway.”  

  “I agree,” Gray said, smiling at one Song and letting Maureau lead the way to the lift door. 

Maureau noticed. “Yes, Commander. I do not need any more of a workout.”

When the lift door opened, the rumble coming from the Plaza unraveled into a cacophony of voices. But, they stepped into  a calming, dawn-like  light, in great contrast to the dock level’s spotlight glare they had just left. Looking up, the Portal transfixed them, its surface alive with waves emitting a cool light at which they were able to gaze.  It  pulsed over the city like an egg-shaped sun,  the spherical end above them with the  tapered end pushing beyond the city into the blackness of space. The deep shadows cast behind buildings enhanced the calm ambiance. In the gloom between structures, it was said, the Emissaries might be found, patrolling the city in stealth.

Above the crowd avenues radiated from the Plaza and, gently curved upward. The buildings lining them appeared tilted towards one another. It all became a jumble above one’s head with buildings standing on their sides, all pointing inward to the center of the encircling Gateway. There was no horizon, only the Gateway continuing to rise upwards to encircle them.

It felt like a festival with the majority of people dressed in the worksuits of dockworkers. Many people queued for food and drink at stalls outside of the consulates. The lines moved fast. Apparently, the beverage was free. 

Along the Plaza’s periphery banners announced the sponsorship of the event by the National Progressive Party. “What is the occasion?” Gray said to a portly man carrying three cups of beer. His flushed face shone with sweat, and he spilled beer trying to weave between people.  

“It’s Longshore Workers’ Day,” he shouted above the crowd noise.“Don’t care about any speeches. But free beer is damn nice!”  

Trying to push further into the crowd, he got pushed back. Beer sloshed over his hands. “Come on! I got friends in there!” This launched a vigorous, expletive laden conversation between the man and two other attendees.

“Let’s steer around this mess,” Song said. 

I wonder how long they’ve been celebrating. This crowd does not seem ready to listen to a speech. 

A stage had been set on the far side of the Plaza, the Citadel providing a backdrop. A woman on stage flanked by National Progressive Party banners had begun to speak. Initially, the din of the surrounding conversations overwhelmed her speech.  “I want to hear what this is about,” Maureau said. He stepped ahead of the team and at first had no difficulty moving through the crowd that parted in deference to the authority of the Star Force. Some suspicious gazes surprised Maureau.

“Woah, we got some navy people here,”someone called out.

“What are they doing here? This is our celebration,” another said.

As they moved forward closer to the stage, fewer people conversed and Maureau could hear fragments of her speech. 

“… little opportunity to advance, to make a life better for yourself and your  children…”

The team reached a point where intent listeners ignored them, forming a wall that blocked further advance. Some hostile and resentful looks were thrown their way. 

“…while the elite travel in their yachts and look down from these glass spires…”

The well-lit stage stood out in the dawn-like light. Spilt beer made the Plaza’s stone surface slick. People in front implored revelers in back to keep quiet. The sound system pounded the speaker’s staccato delivery which grew in volume. 

“How many of you, how many brothers and sisters, were lost to space? You do dangerous work. Very dangerous!” The crowd quieted. The speaker paused and let her words take hold. “And you are not compensated. Families do not get compensated when one is lost.” People in front shouted agreement.

“You have supported the Portal for more than a hundred years. Years of being crushed by ships. Blown into space when systems fail. Taking care of ships from Earth, like Star Force ships coming in to collaborate with the oppressors.” She pointed towards the away team. They suddenly found themselves the focus of attention, their blue uniforms making them conspicuous among the orange jumpsuits of the dockworkers.

Loud outbursts began around them. They were “Elites”…“Out of touch”… “Traitors”…

Maureau looked around in disbelief. This is dumbfounding! Where does this discontent come from? 

“Captain,” Gray said, “this is turning ugly. She’s whipping up anger.”

“We need to leave,” Song added. “The NPP opposes the Emissaries, and hates anyone related to them.”

“What reward do you get? Supporting interstellar trade between the Solar system and Girassian system, but you receive nothing! The Emissaries give you no future. You have no more opportunity than you had one hundred years ago. Mankind is restricted to the Solar System.”

A murmur rose at the periphery of the Plaza, amidst a swirl of people. 

“Why are you here?” a massive man asked blocking the way of Song.

“We are your star force,” she said rocking up on her toes to get face to face. “We keep peace for you.”

“You should not be working with the aliens. They are overlords! You’re a traitor.”

A shower of beer fell on her. 

“So much for just stepping out to stretch,” Maureau said. “We have just been identified as collaborators with an enemy of the people.” 

Art by Rain Elegy

Previous Chapter 18: Get Off the Table: hhtps://onthebeachatnightalone/2023/12/13/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-18-get-off-the-table/

Two hundred years before the events of our story, the alien Hidden arrive and shatter human history. From the time of their arrival a mysterious military order serve as their envoys to humankind. Concealed behind armor, these Emissaries police international and interplanetary affairs using Hidden technology and stop a war between Earth and its Mars colony. They also build an interstellar Portal between Mars and the star Girassia. 

A rich planet, named after Girassia, serves as a conciliatory gift for humanity’s lost independence. But the Hidden’s hated proxies, suspected as traitorous humans, menace civilization by severely restricting use of the Portal. Ironically, these Emissaries allow Earth and Mars to build interplanetary navies while assisting the Girassians in constructing their own fleet. 

The Emissaries plan to lead a task force of ships from Earth and Mars through the Portal to join with the Girassian fleet in joint exercises. While this plan inexplicably allows large military vessels through the Portal for the first time, the Earth’s Star Force welcomes it as an opportunity to assess the capabilities of its rivals. As Captain Anthony Maureau, of the London, brings his ship into Earth’s Alpha One Star Force Base, he finds he has been assigned to Earth’s Task Force Renewal leaving with the Emissaries. After their prolonged mission protecting shipping, this last minute assignment leaves little time for repairs and refitting and severely shortens the shore leave needed for his crew.

 The London has engineering needs requiring time for repair. Despite obtaining clearance from the Operations Center, Maureau invokes the ire of Admiral Rankin’s bridge command when he cuts in front of Admiral Rankin’s flagship, the Poseidon, in queue to dock at Alpha One Base. The highly irregular maneuver done to gain precious time reinforces Rankin’s prejudice against Maureau as a reckless officer.

As the son of a leader in the United League of Earth’s Parliament, Maureau wonders if political considerations motivate the late assignment that puts his ship at a disadvantage in preparation for the task force mission. His suspicion this is just another sabotage of his career seems confirmed when the London is assigned a new model biodroid pilot that appears defective. 

It names itself Yoshi and facilitates rapid repairs. Its efficiency decompresses the stressed crew. It also surprises the crew when on its test integration voyage it pilots the ship in a run to the moon that shatters the speed record for a Star Force ship.  

Maureau’s late assignment was forced on Admiral Rankin by Senator Vastatis, founder of Matadi Advanced Aerospace Corporation. This company is working on a black project under Rankin’s sponsorship creating a stealth device for ships to elude detection by the Emissaries. They plan a secret deployment of the technology during the task force exercises. A successful operation will support Vastatis’s goal of establishing leverage for negotiations with the Emissaries to treat the League more as an equal. 

Vastatis is having recurrent dreams in which he meets the politician, Rance Yeoman. A hate-filled demagogue, Yeoman meets Vastatis in person and shares he is having the same dreams and that they are communicating with one another in the dreams. They frequently encounter Maureau who interferes with the plans they are making for independence from the Emissaries. Yeoman convinces Vastatis that they have to ruin Maureau’s career by setting him up for a disastrous mistake during the joint exercises.

As the Task Force is leaving Earth, a collision takes place between the Poseidon and the Diomedes causing crippling damage to the Poseidon. In an irregular action for a ship’s captain, Maureau accompanies his marines in their extravehicular activity to assist Poseidon’s emergency spacewalk team. An explosion on Poseidon kills some of the emergency personnel and several marines. A concussive force hurls Maureau towards the space station. On London’s bridge, the executive officer, Commander Song, risks a collision with Alpha One Base when she relies on Yoshi to accelerate the London towards the station and intercept Maureau, stopping just short of a collision. She saves Maureau’s life but destroys her career by ignoring a direct order by Admiral Rankin to stop the dangerous maneuver.  

Purportedly, Maureau’s conduct leads to the assignment of the London to the command of Captain Plotkin for a mysterious mission during the joint task force operations. Plotkin is less experienced than Maureau and this assignment adds insult to the injury of losing several marines. He is able to limit Song’s demotion, keeping her as Chief Security Officer. She replaces her rival, Lieutenant Commander Grey, while Grey is promoted as the new executive officer.  

Vastatis delivers the Cloaking Mirror, covertly installing it on Captain Plotkin’s Chicago. It is successfully tested.  

The Poseidon’s accident delays departure of Renewal. The Emissaries do not commit to postponing their departure from Mars. Despite the turmoil around Maureau, Rankin recognizes the London’s speed and assigns her to transport Senator Mitchell in time to negotiate with the Emissaries 

Maureau returns to the bridge before he has recovered from his concussion, unsteady and indecisive. The routine transit changes when Yoshi identifies a nil-void, a pocket in space absent of gas and dust. Before establishing communication with Admiral Rankin, Maureau orders the London to explore the anomaly.

On approaching the nil-void, Yoshi discovers the London’s communications blocked by interference emanating from a “ghost” ship moving out of the nil-void. Acting outside of London’s mission parameters, Maureau advances to contact the vessel. He risks close contact and sends out a detachment of marines led by Song to examine the lifeless ship. 

Communication reestablishes with the Emissary Portal Command. The nil-void and ghost ship are unknown phenomena. The ghost ship quivers with energy and shadow life forms exit it to envelop a marine just as a follows-up message warns the London to avoid the unknown vessel. The shadows swallow the marine into the ship that powers up to withdraw into the nil-void.  Only a navigational maneuver by Yoshi saves the London from being dragged by the ghost ship into an alternative-universe. The Master of the Emissaries appears in transmission and, without explanation, informs Maureau he is to join a Convocation of the Emissaries upon his arrival at the Portal.

The loss of another crewman in the attack shakes up the crew.  Maureau has engaged in an unauthorized and near-disastrous detour and agonizes over decisions leading to abandonment of a marine and the near loss of his ship. The London arrives at Portal City with enough time for Earth’s diplomat to meet with the Emissaries before the task force’s planned departure.

An exhausted and demoralized crew waits for shore leave. The real challenges have yet to begin for Captain Maureau. But before we attend to his meeting with the Emissaries….. Let’s Step Out, Chapter 19.  summary here

Photo of Cape May Point beach, New Jersey by author

Previous Chapter 17           https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2023/10/31/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-17-the-ghost-ship-quivered/

The London stood down to Condition Two and Captain Anthony Maureau decided to stop stressing the crew and ship. He ordered acceleration limited to just under one point two five G, rewarding Senator Mitchell and the crew with a lighter force than they had had in the previous eight hours.  They would add fourteen hours to the planned transit time to the Portal. But, regardless of Lieutenant Ahktar-Gatewood’s disappointment, the encounter with the ghost ship made Maureau no longer care whether they shattered the Earth-Mars transit time record. Beating it by a day and a half would be good enough. 

Maureau felt like the brooding Thinker in his captain’s chair, leaning on his right elbow, chin on fist, gaze fixed on the navigational holographic display. Sometimes he thought of nothing, awake but unable to focus. At other times,questions swirled in his mind.  Why didn’t I wait longer for a surface probe inspection? Why didn’t the Emissaries warn us away immediately? Will they reveal what they know? Will they meet with Senator Mitchell?

Sleep nearly came over him as he kept reviewing the decisions he had made and considered the rationale behind his orders. He shook his head trying to prevent nodding off. Unfortunately, shaking his head would not clear the gaps he found in his thought processes. Despite the dizzying fatigue, Maureau could not afford surrendering his watch. After the loss of Nansted and the recent Condition One, a captain retiring to his cabin to sleep inspired no confidence. The bridge officers and crew needed to see him. 

As captain, Maureau more than accepted responsibility for the loss of Nansted. He bore a deep sense it was an avoidable loss caused by his uncharacteristic decision making. He wanted to communicate that to Song, knowing she would feel guilty that she had not anticipated things for her team. But unburdening her would need to wait for the debriefing. 

In addition to sending her team forward before gathering optimal intelligence, he had taken the  London to the brink of oblivion by navigating her so close to the ghost ship. They were all fortunate to have remained in the Solar System, barely avoiding being dragged through a nil-void into an alternative universe.  

He had allowed himself to hurry without a justifiable reason. Out of this catastrophe, I will now  be wary of Gray’s recommendations. She’s aggressive and doesn’t step back to consider everything. But I cannot blame her. I’m the one who followed her recommendations! 

Yoshi had requested permission to “rest his eyes” to revitalize himself. Maureau did not want to disturb its revitalization. “AIC, can you tell me the medical status of everyone on board? Yoshi is offline.”

Yoshi’s eyes popped open. “Captain, your Yoshi can do this for you.”

“You were listening?”

“Your BDP can always respond to any reference to itself. Revitalization is not the same for a biodroid as it is for a human.”

“Good. What is your assessment of the crew being able to withstand going back to hard G again to Mars?”

Yoshi paused to review the data. “Fifteen star sailors, along with the Senator, need intravenous hydration and sleep for at least sixty-five minutes before they will withstand increased acceleration over two point zero G.” Maureau had the crew members who required intravenous fluid notified to report to Doctor Gladman.  

Maureau was going to meet with the Emissaries. This was nearly incomprehensible for him. That was the goal of his mission. Having glimpsed another universe and survived the hostile encounter with an alien force, he knew they would interrogate him over his experiences. He calmed down his speculations by contemplating the request he would make for a meeting with Senator Mitchell. 

Making rounds of the entire ship also took his mind off his self-reproach and anxiety.  He spent time with  Senator Mitchell in the Medical Bay, praising him for being one of the crew on their Condition One maneuvers. The Senator wanted to know what all of the maneuvering was about and became frustrated when Maureau answered that it was classified. He stopped and spoke with the Medical Bay staff and Doctor Gladman, making sure they would pay especial attention to the Senator. 

Anthony wandered into the galley looking for coffee. The coffee had turned into mud during the prolonged Condition One as the crew had been restricted to their battle posts. He could have gone to the officers’ amenities station with its single serving dispenser, but preparing a pot of coffee for the enlisted crew was a good relaxing task, needing no analysis or critical decision making. Maureau liked his coffee strong. He broke open a second pack and spilled half of it. So much for simple tasks.

“Sir, do you need some help?”

Maureau turned around. Chief Petty Officer Leo Ottermen stood in the kitchen hatchway.  A broad smile dominated his wide face. He genuinely looked happy to see the captain. 

“No. I’ll take responsibility for cleaning up this mess.”

“No way! You have better ways to spend your time. I thought I heard someone in here and wondered who would be allowed to get themselves coffee in Condition Two.”

Maureau stepped back. Ottermen ruled the galley and could not be argued with.“Thanks, Leo. We’re going to Condition Three soon and things will go back to normal.”

“Captain, does that mean gut wrenching acceleration? No one has an appetite on this trip, not to mention how impossible it is to cook.”

“No hard acceleration. We will be at the Portal in twelve hours,” Maureau said. Leo started to clean up the spilt coffee grounds. “A lot of star sailors will want to chow down when we get to the Portal. You will be busy, Chef.”

“I will be ready. What is this ‘star sailor’? We’re just spacemen and Petty Officers.”

“It’s a term our biodroid pilot used. I like it.”

The two of them inhaled the coffee aroma, eyes closed. “I like it too. How does a droid get poetic?” Ottermen said, looking at Maureau sideways with a grin.

“This biodroid is very odd, I have to tell you.”

“That is what I hear. Captain, you look like you could use an entire pot of coffee.”

#

Lieutenant Krista Song’s mind writhed in agony. She stared at the Red Planet as the London approached it. The forward four impulse rockets glowed blue, forming points of a square framing Mars. She waited impatiently for Commander Gray to finish reviewing her report. Song wondered what the delay was.

She radiated anger and confusion, a toxic mixture best to avoid. The marines kept a wide distance from her. Except for Hall. He approached and stood by her side to look out at Mars.

“Ma’am. Nansted’s loss wasn’t your fault. They could’ve taken any one of us. We had to leave him and get back to the London. She had to leave to save the entire crew.”

“There was no warning,” she said. “If we had a tighter formation…”

“Then you might have been the one taken. This ship needs you.”

Song’s face twisted in pain. “That’s supposed to make me feel better? I should’ve been in front. I was leading the team.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I know you set it up that way. You did what you could.”

“I just want to know what happened. Was his weapon a provocation as he feared it might be. Or should we all have carried arms? 

“Opening fire would not have saved Nansted. I think most of us being unarmed showed a sign of peace.” Hall spoke softly, firmly, calming her for a moment.

#

“We meet in Security for debriefing with Song” Maureau said. “I want Freihoff, Ahktar-Gatewood, and our BDP there. You read Song’s report. Find anything revealing?”

“Lots of questions,” Gray said. “Why were the life forms not detected earlier and what happened to the team’s service pack controls? What do we know about the attackers?”

Maureau and Gray left for Security together. They moved silently, wrapped up in their own thoughts. How do you admit to your officers you made a bad decision? Do you? Can you admit you were not at your best? I suspect Krista knows that.

Maureau studied the gathered officers. One would not be able to find a more somber gathering. To Maureau, Chief Freihoff appeared stunned, likely trying to process the paradoxes he had no science to explain. Ahktar-Gatewood exuded depression. Yoshi had established itself as a force, a BDP that assumed much of the navigation and control of the ship. The Chief of Navigation likely felt he had nothing to contribute to the London.

Yoshi had no expression, a blank visage disconcerting to Maureau because he had gotten used to an  animated enthusiasm in the biodroid. His reaction disturbed him. Why do I find myself expecting Yoshi to be a source of consolation?

Then there was Song. She appeared to be a prisoner awaiting a capital punishment sentencing. Sitting ramrod straight, her gaze at a faraway point beyond the ship, her jaw was set tight. Despite the tension in her posture, her eyes glinted with the life of a warm sea moved by a steady wind .

 The group awaited his address. The prolonged silence increasingly felt  like a growing weight on his shoulders. Song turned to look him in the eyes. A massive wave of determination rolled over him. It broke and jolted him out of his lethargy. Concentrating, a rush of thoughts came to him. “Commander Gray, we go into Condition Three. Immediately. Make it happen. We will wait for you.”

Gray nodded and stood up, moving away from the table and out into the bay off of the airlock. She spoke into her headset, giving orders. Maureau was pleased she interacted with the AIC, doing more than just giving the order for Condition Three. She was going over details that would set them up for the London’s approach to the Portal. He turned his gaze and was surprised to see everyone watching him watch Gray. He gave them a slight smile.

“Well, maybe we should stick to boarding pirate ships.” Maureau said. “This detour has been a disaster.”

“Aye, Captain,” Yoshi said. “The London encountered many unpredictable phenomena.” There it goes again. Essentially disobeying an order to not use the expression ”aye” while Gray is not here. We need to interrogate its system and see how it is able to do that. Maureau simply nodded to the biodroid.

“Made sense we went to explore the anomaly,” Song said. “It really wasn’t too far out of our way to Mars. We ended up discovering a very threatening alien entity.”

“Has anyone processed the fact that Yoshi identified a hole in our universe? A hole into an alternative universe.” Ahktar-Gatewood spoke quietly, with precision.

“Functionally, I think the nil-void is the same as the Portal’s gateway,” Chief Freihoff said. “It compresses space using fractal uncertainty.” 

“But we are talking about another universe! Is this a ‘parallel’ universe in time?” Ahktar-Gatewood implored. “What have we encountered?” 

Freihoff held his hands up off the table in surrender. “I’ve not had the time to review Yoshi’s data to understand how he determined we are looking into another universe. I can’t explain what we are dealing with. We might not be able to understand it.”

Commander Gray returned and surprised Maureau by staying quiet as the debrief continued. Song and Gray did not look at one another. Song leaned over the table towards Maureau while Gray sat back in her chair, establishing distance from them.

Everyone looked at Song. She sighed deeply. “Let’s get to the most immediate concern for our crew. An unknown alien force attacked the London and we lost a marine. The EVA team had no warning. What do we know?”

Chief Freihoff answered. “Yoshi and I analyzed all of the data that came in. During the EVA, the organometallic hull scattered reflected signals. But we accounted for this realtime while probing it. There were no life sign signatures before deployment of the EVA. Since then, we further cleaned up the data. On our review we found no life signatures until the ship powered up. ”

Gray sat up straight. “Chief, the BDP reported we were in a bubble of space unlike our own solar system. Wouldn’t all active signaling be interfered with, like our communications were?” 

Freihoff was at a loss for words. He appeared defensive while the biodroid pilot stayed silent. “Freihoff, can Yoshi answer this question?”

“Yes, Captain. He can.”

Yoshi did not look at the officers while speaking. “The active surveillance signals were not interfered with except on reflection from the hull. London’s radar is set at different electromagnetic frequencies than communication signals. Even after the bubble of interference with communications collapsed, review of the data reveals no change in our surveillance signals and no detectable life signatures.” Yoshi became silent. 

Freihoff spoke up again. “When the ship powered up, life signs seemed to be triggered. Before that, we did not detect anything at the lower limit of our sensors.”  Freihoff sounded like he was defending himself and Yoshi. “At the instant the ship powered up, we did detect life signals well above our lower limits of detection.”

“The ship was dead and then came alive,” Yoshi said solemnly.

Song needed more. “Still, we had no time to react to the entities that took Nansted. Why was control of our rocket packs taken from us?”  

“It’s because the ghost ship dragged some of its universe with it,” Freihoff said. “It wrapped the ship in an envelope of space that altered normal mechanical physics. While we expect rocket forces to move us away from an object, the effects of this alter universe require different vector forces for movement.”

“You’ve been quiet,” Maureau said to Ahktar-Gatewood.

He nodded to Maureau and cleared his throat. “The team experienced difficulty maneuvering because they were pulsing their rockets opposite the direction they needed to. The less refined their pulses, the more they found themselves going in the wrong direction. That’s what happened to Nansted.”

“And Yoshi recognized the aberration instantly!” Freihoff said. “We needed to generate impulses in a circular sequence to push us away from the ghost ship.  He took immediate control of the team’s pulse rockets because there was no time for explanation. There was no time to have the team learn how to navigate. I’m amazed with his response outside his primary logic algorithm.”

“The attackers were  invisible. Why did we not see them coming?” Song looked at Gray. “They were on Nansted immediately after we received the warning to turn back.”

Yoshi climbed up on the table and turned to look at Song. The biodroid cleared its throat, though it had nothing to clear, and looked down on Song. “The ghost ship quivered like an insect reacting to a stimulus. A nervous system signal flowed through a network branching from the hull. At the terminus of branches, heat signatures increased rapidly and then started moving away from their network branches.”

Song locked eyes with Yoshi. “You have not answered my question. They were on us with no warning. Why did we have so little warning?”

Yoshi cleared its throat again. “It was like a hornets nest had been kicked. The ghost ship spit out the life entities before they were even at their full energy level. Your BDP warned you immediately and took control of your rockets. Sadly, that did not give all of you enough time to escape. The individual creatures reflected no light making them invisible in space to the human eye. In an environment with more ambient light, they would manifest as shadow. ” Yoshi hung its head.  

“Would you say this organometallic ship is alive?” Maureau said, not looking up at Yoshi squatting directly above him.

“Affirmative, Captain. The ship is a life form as are the individuals that budded off its network. The ship and its crew came through the nil-void in stasis. It expelled tetrapod individual life units, three meters in length. They have large cranial vaults, seventy centimeters long.  They moved upright inside the ship. Once activated, the ship and its units give off heat at forty degrees Celsius.”

The meeting fell silent. Gray broke the silence. “Our Marine crew is beat up.”

“My tactical plan was for me to be out in front,” Song said.

“I know that” Gray said quietly. “Nansted was average in controlling impulse rockets.” Maureau tensed, waiting for the hammer to come down on Song. 

Gray spoke directly to Song. “Lieutenant Song, he was trained well-enough to keep in formation, but, apparently he used his rockets in a manner that the vector flip caused him to separate from the formation. I think a tighter formation might have given you a chance to react. But, we will never know.”

Maureau felt relieved. Gray does feel some responsibility for pushing the team to move out of the London.  

“Were we being pulled in?” Song said.

Yoshi answered. “The ship did exert one half G on you. Combined with errant rocket pulses, you experienced the sense of being pulled in.”

“A ship that size, able to generate significant gravitational forces?” Maureau had decided to take over the meeting. “And they can generate a nil-void. What other technology might they have?” 

“There are some limitations to their capabilities,” Yoshi said with a slight hop. “They had to come through the hole in suspension and it took them hours to activate.” 

The leaden weight of second guessing himself slid off Maureau. “I think the Emissaries knew what we encountered and did not admit it at first and I intend to find out why. The EVA team should have stayed inside.” Maureau looked from each officer to the next. Unable to peer around Yoshi at Song, he frowned. “Yoshi. Get off the table and do not do that again in a meeting.”

Yoshi swung its legs over the edge of the table and dropped down on its chair. Maureau said directly to Song, “I made decisions that put the London, her crew, and especially your EVA team into a trap. We discovered what seems to be a dangerous entity at a cost. We will make his loss of value by taking what we discovered forward to, first, the Emissaries, and then Star Force.”

The meeting lasted a half hour longer. Captain Maureau explained why Central Command had not been appraised of the attack. Maureau put Gray in charge to oversee leave once they docked at Portal City. 

They discussed the London’s armament and whether they needed to pick up more. “Do we have any armament effective against a ship like the ghost ship,” Gray said.

Everyone looked to Yoshi who still had its head down. “Yoshi, we need you to run an analysis of what you know about the organometallic hull.” Song smiled at the BDP.

Yoshi looked over at Song and seemed to  click alert. “The hull consists of a loose matrix resembling the structure of bone.  London’s C-5 torpedoes can breach the hull. Their charge would devastate the ship. The ghost ship’s countermeasure capability cannot be determined. The ghost’s capacity to generate protective fields cannot be determined. Assume they can produce a field given their ability to generate a nil-void.”

Maureau stayed quiet, waiting. After another awkward pause, Gray spoke up. “I believe we should maximize the number of torpedoes we can carry.” 

“Yes, Commander. I agree.”

Song narrowed her eyes, studying Yoshi. “Chief, why do you make Yoshi a ‘he’?” she asked.

Freihoff shrugged. “I spend a lot of time working on things with Yoshi. I guess I got in the habit of making Yoshi a ‘he’. ”

“Given we have just survived a crisis, I think we need to stay on task,” Maureau said. “The gender of our biodroid will not be explored here.”

 “If we have no more to discuss, you are dismissed, except for the Chief.  Yoshi stay with the Chief. Lieutenant Ahktar-Gatewood,  bring us into the Portal.” 

The Navigation officer smiled. “Yes, sir.” He sprung from his seat.  The officers left except for Yoshi and Freihoff. Maureau sat thinking. Yoshi and Freihoff stayed silent.

“Freihoff. Are you busy enough?”

Freihoff laughed. “Yoshi keeps me busy. When not working with the reactors, we have things to study, working to keep up with Yoshi’s calculations. Sir, I provide constant oversight, you can count on that!”

Maureau studied Freihoff. Satisfied he was all right, he said, “Well, I am counting on you two to figure out what we are dealing with. What this alter universe is. And this alien force that came through it. Two giant problems. “

As Maureau stood to leave he reached towards Yoshi but caught himself as he was about to put his hand on its shoulder. “Hmm. No climbing on the table during a meeting. Right?” 

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Maureau moved slowly back to the bridge. The Emissary’s direction to not disclose the ghost ship to Central Command created a dilemma. Maureau’s duty lay with Star Force. He did not answer to the Emissaries.  But, he  decided he would wait for more information before reporting the encounter to Central Commend. He knew they would question him regarding a delay, but his summons by the Emissaries was so unusual he wanted to find out what they knew first. He did not know why, but he had a strong conviction that a ghost ship from another universe called for special handling. 

As they approached Mars, he had an idea for reassuring Central Command. He messaged the Emissary Portal Control Center requesting confirmation of a meeting time for Senator Mitchell. The response surprised him. “A meeting with the Senator will not be necessary after we meet with Captain Maureau.”

Oh shit. How do I explain the Senator is not needed? Am I now involved in affairs of state far deeper than I should be. And the Master Emissary advised I get some rest! Good luck, Anthony.  

After addressing the crew on the ghost ship attack and the loss of one Marine,Maureau finally retired to his quarters and tried to rest. His nerves buzzed.  

Art by Rain Elegy

Previous Chapter 16: https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2023/10/13/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-16-like-a-pit-that-would-swallow-them/

London’s XO, Commander Gray, watched the external video feed together with Captain Maureau and their biodroid pilot, Yoshi. The London moved at a steady speed under Yoshi’s navigational and engineering  control.  The steady state of systems allowed bridge officers to look up from their consoles now and again to steal a glance at the EVA team’s progress. 

“Lieutenant Song is moving slowly,” Gray said. “It’s going to take her twenty minutes to arrive at target. ”

“Fifteen minutes, thirty-eight seconds, to be precise, Ma’am,” Yoshi said. Gray ignored the BDP and put her hands on her hips. Maureau remained silent. 

“They are proceeding with caution,” Maureau said. “There is no problem with that.” Song led the team. They watched Nansted accelerate past her. 

Song’s voice interrupted Maureau.“Bridge. Song here. We are having navigation problems. AIC has been informed. Our pulse rockets are working erratically, sometimes opposite how they should. Why is that? Is this a programming issue?”

Yoshi vigorously shook its head. “The ghost ship just quivered,” Yoshi said, suddenly climbing out of the jump seat’s harness into a squatting position. The BDP hung onto the harness as it rotated one hundred eighty degrees to an upside down orientation relative to Maureau and Gray.

 What do you mean it ‘quivered’? Gray said clenching her fists. “God damn it, BDP. Use standard Star Force terminology!”

“The ship vibrated. It appeared to shiver. It shuddered. Energy coursed through it. A  wave of light rolled over the hull, jumping from the nidus of energy to the surface…”

“.. and what is going on with Song’s navigation?” Maureau said.

Before Yoshi could say anything more, the bridge screen blinked and a different Emissary than on their initial contact appeared onscreen. Yoshi said nothing more but nodded towards the screen while rapidly flipping itself to squat on the jumpseat, harness over its shoulders. 

This Emissary wore an inky, dark blue helmet with the spiral of the Milky Way sweeping over it. The dark blue chest armor displayed a platinum lion’s face looking directly out. 

“London. I am Daemone, Master of the Emissaries.” The Emissary’s voice flowed like a deep stream over boulders. “You are in great danger. You should leave and get as far away from this ship as you can.”

The Emissary raised its right hand as if to halt any protests. “I will repeat. Leave the vicinity of the ship immediately.” The communication blinked out. No more information.

“Damn it!” Maureau shouted. “Get the marines back, stat. Yoshi fire up the impulse reactors. Sound the alarm to prepare for hard acceleration.” Maureau wondered what happened for the Emissaries to change their communication to a warning. 

Yoshi also raised its voice.  “Captain! The entire ghost ship is powered up.” 

#

Unpracticed in working together, Lieutenant Krista Song’s line of marines drifted apart immediately upon moving forward. Nansted floated past Song and became the lead way out in front of her. “Nansted, you need to hold back.” 

Nansted breathed heavily. “I know, Sir. I know!” 

The EVA team had moved forward three hundred meters when a wave of light pulsed in both directions from the needle ship’s amidships. It laid down scarlet lines glowing like dying embers. They branched out from amidships and framed the beaconing void that the body of the ship had become. 

Song sensed a call out of the abyss inside the ship. She squeezed her eyes and shook her head. The feeling did not relent but rather overwhelmed her, taking her breath away and paralyzing her for what seemed agonizing minutes. She knew it had to be only seconds, given the actions taking place around her. 

“What the…” she started, when the call came from Commander Gray, her voice high. Excited. “EVA team, return to the London. Stat!. Return to the London.

“What’s happening?” Song said to the bridge.

“It’s come alive.” Song thought the garbled voice sounded like Yoshi’s, except it was twisted in despair, an emotion a biodroid should not have.

#

Yoshi spoke in an atonal voice, like a computer. “The energy nidus has triggered current throughout the ship. The ghost ship has powered up. There are thirty life forms detectable. They appear in buds at the end of branches from a surface network . Five have left their buds. They are moving rapidly. ”

“This is AIC. All of the EVA team report their pulse rockets are not working correctly. Controls seem reversed.”

“How many are affected?” Maureau said.

“All of them, the entire team. They are being pulled towards the ghost ship.”

Maureau got out of his chair and looked down at Yoshi. The biodroid looked blankly off into space. “What is happening, Yoshi?” With that kind of look, I hope you are coming up with a solution.

Yoshi’s eyes came back into focus and he looked directly at Maureau. “The laws of physics are not behaving near the ghost ship. The ghost ship is drawing things in towards it, including the London.It is building up energy, possibly for a destructive discharge, possibly for transportation. But Yoshi has a solution to move the team away from the ghost ship.”

“Get the team back. Anyway you have to. And get us away from this ghost.” Maureau looked in alarm “at the holographic display showing the EVA team moving rapidly towards the ghost ship.

#

Trying to counter the pull towards the ghost ship, Song could not resist firing her power pack’s pulse rockets, only to accelerate towards the ship, not pull away. The response to her controls made no sense. Regardless of which rockets she fired, it was not possible to predict what would happen. Before she could figure out her controls, her pulse rockets cut off. 

Helpless, she drifted towards the ghost ship while watching Nansted accelerate well ahead of the team by fifty meters. Her pulse rockets fired again without her input. She felt like she floated in gelatin. “London, what’s going on?”

“EVA team, Yoshi took control of your team’s power packs,” Gray said over the com. “Trust him! It’s got to work!”

Song slowed down to a stop and then changed directions back towards the London. Her pulse rockets rapidly alternated the direction of their fire. All of her team reversed directions except for Nansted. He slowed down but continued to be drawn towards the ghost ship.

An oval of scarlet light dropped off one of the hull’s scarlet branches, opened like  a mouth, and then closed. Song marveled that the interior of the ship through the mouth appeared even darker than the hull, a realm of even deeper fathoms of hopelessness. A bubble of it moved towards Nansted.

“Do you see the figures leaving the ship?”  Song was surprised by the alarm in Gray’s voice. “They’re converging on Nansted.” 

“Bridge. I don’t see any life forms,” she responded. “I do see movement like a heat way or something.”

“I don’t see anything,” Nansted shouted, but he shouldered his pulse rifle and started to randomly shoot towards the ghost ship. The rifle’s packs of energy disappeared into the ghost ship.

Suddenly, the rifle jerked out of his hands and disappeared. A blanket of darkness drifted over him. With the lower half of his body lost to sight, the shadow of two arms wrapped around his helmet. On the EVA team’s coms they heard Nansted give out a scream that faded into a sucking away of his voice, like the sound of a liquid vortex plunging down a drain. He disappeared as blackness covered him despite the London’s spotlights .

“London! Yoshi. Put on our heads up what you’re sensing.” Her face shield lit up with  images of five swirling forms, sometimes with discernible limbs, enwrapping Nansted. Song gasped. Between them she saw Nansted, folded in half. 

They rapidly returned to the ship. Just before arriving at the airlock bay, the scarlet mouth opening again. Song’s heads up imaging showed a fluidic shadow extend and envelop the five forms along with Nansted. They became one with the ship.

Like her power pack’s pattern of fire, the London rapidly alternated the direction of her impulse rockets’ firing.  Song discerned a regular pattern to their blasts and watched the London start to move away from the ghost ship. An expanding glow from the ghost ship moved outwards towards the London. 

The Marines, some suited up for space, waited in the bay. With Yoshi controlling their pulse rockets, the surviving EVA team caught up with the London.  The  doors of the airlock opened in coordination with the outer door closing just as the inner door opened. The timing allowed the team to glide into the bay without breaking to a stop, the ship’s atmosphere preserved. They dropped onto the waiting marines creating a tangle of bodies thudding into the  bulkhead. 

Song pushed out of the pile of marines and moved away from the bulkhead. She struggled against an inexplicable leaden weariness to an airlock portal to see the ghost ship surrounded by an expanding, pulsing halo. The distance between the ships widened as the London just barely outran the  halo. Inside its bright halo, the ghost ship flashed brighter  and disappeared pulling along the the halo. 

The flash left an afterimage of the needle-shaped ship. A force that had held the London back released andthe London suddenly accelerated, driving her team hard against the deck.  The afterimage faded together revealing an oval window in the matrix of interplanetary space. 

Through this window shown a black planet with white bands, a black and white version of Jupiter. Slowly, the night of the Solar System flowed inwards to cover up the window into the alter-universe.

#

Fifteen minutes after the ghost ship’s disappearance the bridge monitor flickered with a third Emissary filling  the screen. Its golden helmet and armor glowed like molten metal. It spoke in a voice that had the calmness of still air before sunrise.

“London, we see you are still intact and that the alien has left. Captain Maureau, you are to proceed immediately to the Portal City. We have forwarded your message to Central Command but removed the data on a “splinter in the eye of God” as your BDP referred to it. Do not communicate further information to Star Force, except that the “nil-void”, as your BDP named the anomaly, has closed. 

“You will be contacted regarding the time of our meeting. We will send an escort to the London’s berth.  Get some rest. You will need it for your meeting with us.”

Art by Rain Elegy

Previous Chapter 15 The Jungle Canopy was Covered by Heavy Snow: https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2023/09/26/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-16-the-jungle-canopy/

Senator Mitchell looked miserable on the view screen. “How much longer are we going to be breaking like this? I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack!”

“Senator, hang in there. We’re going to ease up in a few minutes,” Maureau said.  But I‘m sorry, you will need to keep your G-suit on. We’ve gone into Condition One Action Station and that means everyone has to be ready for high G forces.”

“Is that like being at battle stations?”

“Yes, it is. Stay horizontal and stay buckled up. This will be over soon.”

“What’s going on, Captain?”

“That is classified, I’m afraid.”

The Senator shook his head but said nothing more. He was very pale. He closed the call.

“Yoshi,” Maureau said, “is the Senator all right?”

Yoshi lay in its jumpseat, strapped in for Condition One. “Senator Mitchell is monitored. He is stressed moderately high. Vital metrics are stable and within his tolerance. Easing back towards zero G will be beneficial for the Senator and for an additional twenty-two star sailors. They are all being moderately stressed.”

“As soon as we pull clear of the interference bubble, we can ease up on deceleration.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Yoshi glanced at Commander Gray, who just shook her head.

For a moment the tension on the bridge broke, a few officers laughing. Maureau smiled. “Where did you come up with that?”

“Yoshi is constantly searching its database. ‘Aye aye’ was a common expression used on surface vessels.” 

“But it’s not used on Star Force ships,” Gray said.

Yoshi appeared displeased. “‘Aye aye’ means that the order is ‘received and understood, and will be executed.’” 

Maureau laughed. “If the EO thinks it’s not appropriate, then we will ask you to just answer ‘Yes, Captain’.” 

Gray rolled her eyes. “I do think the BDP should just acknowledge orders as ‘affirmative’ or ‘affirmative, will execute.’ We are not an ancient naval ship.” 

“Affirmative, Commander,” Yoshi said, meeting Gray’s gaze. 

Yoshi announced in a higher voice than usual, “Captain, the London has just fallen back out of the interference bubble. There is now a line of communication to the Portal.” 

 “Maintain deceleration that maintains our position outside of the bubble and gets us to the nil-void target able to match the needle-ship.” 

Gray stepped to the side of Maureau. “Captain, now that we’re able to signal the Portal, we should request they contact Star Force Central for us and give them an update on our status.” 

Maureau nodded. “I agree. Include that request to the Emissaries.” Gray immediately contacted the AIC and provided an update for Central Command to be sent by the Emissary Portal Control. 

“Sir, we need to manage the time we spend away from our Mars transit. I expect the Emissaries know what we’re encountering. Our mission should be to collect as much information as possible for Star Force? We’ll want to have a team ready to go spaceside on arrival to save time.” 

“Recommendation noted. Commander, before deploying an EVA, we will wait for a response from the Emissaries,” Maureau said. “If they do know what we are dealing with, we might be able to  get back on our way without delay. We will hold the team in the London until we hear from the Emissary Portal Command. “ 

A sense of disembodiment suddenly swept over Maureau. Leaning forward, he rubbed his eyes and forehead. He felt as if his chair was falling over and grabbed the arm rests. His vision went black for a moment. Having Song on the bridge would really be helpful right now. Is this just weakness from the head trauma? Or is it something else? 

“If closer scanning shows there was a crew, boarding the ship would allow us to look for survivors,” Gray said.

Maureau felt indecisive, his own thinking not make sense to himself. And he was not connecting with Gray.  Is it just me? Or is she pushing to get a team deployed immediately? Are we on the same page?

Maureau let out a long, silent sigh. “Commander, go ahead and ready the team.  Let us evaluate the vessel first, before deploying them.” Gray called the Security Division and ordered Lieutenant Song to suit up her team and exit the ship in deployment outside near the London.

The bridge was silent as they approached the needle-ship. The London came to a near complete stop and changed directions, matching speed with the needle-ship. They maintained a parallel course one kilometer away. Weightlessness felt so good after the hours of experiencing increased weight. 

“Captain, this is the AIC. We have lost signal from the probe. I cannot tell why, but it suddenly powered off.”

“AIC, how far away from the needle-ship was it when this happened?”

“The probe moved to within one hundred meters of the target when it powered off.”

“Yoshi. AIC. Can we reboot the probe and recover it?” Both reported simultaneously they were working on it.

Maureau felt exposed as they skirted the brink of oblivion, according to Yoshi, a hole into another universe. There would be no help for them if they got into trouble, the nearest ship being more than twelve hours away. He was surprised over the dark, deep emotion of aloneness he felt.  “ I want to know if the needle-ship had anything to do with the probe failing. Yoshi, have the impulse engines ready online for acceleration away from here.” 

“Yoshi, update us on readings from the needle-ship,” Gray said. 

“There has been no change, Commander. The probe detected no life signs aboard the ship just before going dark. The nidus of energy amidships has not changed. It appears, London has encountered a ‘ghost ship.’”

Everyone on the bridge turned and looked at Yoshi. “You’re right, Yoshi,” Maureau said. “I feel like we are dealing with ghosts.” Maureau shivered. “We have indeed encountered a ghost ship.” 

#

Before Maureau’s return to the bridge Commander Gray had already ordered Lieutenant Kristina Song to form a team to inspect the ship. Song included herself on the EVA team. She felt she had to be on the team to establish confidence in her leadership within the platoon. Being a new, just demoted, commander was one thing. But not being a Star Force marine challenged her legitimacy further in their eyes. The third strike against her was the news circulating of the public beating she had received sparring with their former commander. 

She had the equipment for a spacewalk assembled and the selected team carefully inspected it in the bay next to the airlock. They were ready for the order to suit up when the order came in. The current zero G made it easy to take off their G-suits while teamwork prevented one another floating away from their equipment.

“This sure beats the hell out of patrolling passageways aboard Alpha One.” Master Chief Petty Officer Hall beamed, his eyes catching Song’s.  He looked at the needle-ship out a port near the airlock hatchway, holding a handle to prevent floating away. “Thank you, Sir, for getting me transferred to the London.” 

“A smile flickered on Song, but she remained focused on the needle-shaped vessel. Now, the London drifted less than a kilometer away from it. “This is Song to bridge. What do you make of this? It’s blacker than the space around us. London’s spotlights illuminate nothing. I see no features. No hatches or antennas. Nothing that looks like a propulsion system.”

Yoshi spoke up immediately. “Commander Song. This is Yoshi. The hull is made up of an organometal mixture. It absorbs light. ” 

“We should be cautious,” Hall said to Song. “It may eat us.” Song did not smile. 

Petty Officer, Jonathan Nansted, shuffled nervously as he tightened his EVA power pack. “This is bold, sending us out like this. We’ve no idea what we’re dealing with.”

“The probe and London’s sensors are not picking up any life forms,” Song said. She gave Nansted the most reassuring look she could.

“But it could be robotic and defend itself if we approach it.”

“Don’t worry,” Hall said.  “We’ve moved right on top of this vessel. Can’t get much closer without ramming it. It would’ve fired on us already if London were processed as a threat. The most dangerous action has already taken place, us coming in this close.” Song appreciated Hall’s reassuring attitude.  

“We will board only if there is an open entry. There will be no breaching of the hull,” Song said.

“It gives me the creeps. They already sent out a probe. If we aren’t going to board the ship, what are we going out for?” said the fourth of her team, Petty Officer Jeannie Kelley. “This walk seems unnecessary.”

Song sensed the strain in Kelley’s voice. She thought of offering both Nansted and Kelley the option of opting out of the walk. But both cherished the value of courage intrinsic to a Star Force marine and would decline the choice out of pride. Offering it to them would insult them and be a sign she did not know how to command marines.

 Song pointed to equipment they were going to carry. “I agree with you, Kelley. We need to break this contact as soon as possible and get back on track to Mars. But we’re going to be carrying a hull surface sensor and a tracker. At the very least, placing a tracker on this ship will enable Star Force to find it more easily after we leave.” 

“Shouldn’t we all be carrying arms, Sir?” Nansted said. He was the only one who would carry a pulse rifle.

“No. I do not want to present as an armed unit. We are coming simply to communicate and inspect. You will bring up the rear and stay back when we approach the ship.” Song could see this did not reassure Nansted.

“Then, I appear to be the only aggressor,” he said. 

“We won’t have you go into the ship if we end up going in. You won’t appear as an aggressor. We’ll have you only secure the entryway.”

Hall gave her a quizzical look which she could not interpret. It made her wonder if her tactics were wrong. But she was not going to ask Commander Gray if she agreed with her deployment plan. If anyone was going to be a target, it was going to be her as she would be out in front of the team.

#

The London had not received a response from the Emissaries for well over ten minutes since the line of communication to the Portal opened. “We should have been acknowledged by now, within minutes of them receiving our message.” Maureau sat back in his chair.

Commander Gray floated near him with her hands behind her back. “This vessel should respond to our hail whether manned or robotic. The ship appears to be of advanced technology. If it’s an unmanned probe, I would expect it would be programmed to respond in some way to our approach and our signals.  Maybe it’s damaged.”

Maureau studied the light-sucking ship in the London’s search lights. It extended across the bridge’s monitor screen. “Yoshi, is it possible there is a crew in suspension for travel through a nil-void and we are just not able to detect them?” 

“I think there would be power detectable throughout the ship if it carried a suspended crew,” Gray answered before Yoshi could respond. “Captain, I recommend we deploy the marine team to assess this ship. I believe it’s damaged. If it had a crew in suspension, they are probably lost.”

Yoshi interjected, “Given the ghost ship has come from another universe, there is a probability that a crew is in suspension. Without life signatures the probability is zero point two five.”

“That’s a higher probability than I would expect.” Maureau wished he knew how Yoshi came up with that assessment, but there was no time to review it.

“We are at just inside one thousand meters.  It will take only minutes for Lieutenant Song’s team to move to the ship.” Gray said. “An attached probe will give us better information.”

Maureau stared out the bridge’s view portal at the ghost ship as it moved further away from the remnant of the nil-void. The energy layer around the nil-void collapsed into a sphere of light. And then, it blinked out.

“Captain, we have an unobstructed line of communication to Alpha One,” both the AIC and Yoshi reported in unison over one another.

At that moment, Maureau did not want to deal with communications to Central Command. He worried about Song being on the EVA. The zero gravity did not dispel the leaden weakness of his limbs. “Commander Gray, hold on reporting our contact to Central Command. Let’s see what we are dealing with first.” Is my gut telling me something? Something is not right here.

The bridge monitor flashed. An Emissary appeared onscreen.  It wore a red helmet with a mirrored face shield. Bright silver lines glinted in the red metal, streaking backwards from the front of the helmet. Armor of the same material as the helmet covered its chest, in its center a bright glow making the viewers squint. The Emissary was motionless.

“London. This is Emissary Portal Control. Your report received. Proceed with caution. We analyzed the data sent to us. This void, you are calling a nil-void, is unlike anything we know. The vessel is unknown.

“As you requested, will relay your message to Alpha One. Proceed with caution.  Keep us apprised of your condition. This is the end of this message. ”

Gray acknowledged the message. “Well. That was not very helpful,” she said. Gray now floated in front of Maureau.

“I recommend we investigate the ship. Shall I give the order to deploy outside of the ship?” She waited for his answer. “Captain? Captain, are you all right? 

“Commander Song, I mean Gray. Commander Gray, why do you ask that?”

“Sir, you did not respond to my question. Our scans still show no life forms or ship-wide power. It’s safe to go and explore it. I recommend we deploy our EVA team immediately. They can wait near the ghost ship until you deem it appropriate for them to proceed to the hull.”

“Commander Gray, you sound like you would like to be on this team.”

“Yes, Sir. I would. Lieutenant Song is fortunate to lead my marines.” 

Maureau felt going forward was wrong, but he could not think of a rational argument for delaying further. “Commander, you can have the EVA team move forward and deploy the hull surface sensor. 

She gave Song’s team the order to leave the ship and move to the ghost ship. 

#

Song received Gray’s order to deploy outside of the ship but to stay close to the London and not proceed to the ghost ship until given another order. The EVA team left the airlock and spread out in a line along the hull, staying within twenty meters of the London. 

It took the slightest touch of the pulse rockets to get to this distance. The team worked inefficiently, overshooting their set point. Overcorrecting, they surged forward, pulsed to a stop and changed direction. Then they had to correct again to keep from accelerating into the ship. Even Song, usually precise, noted things were off. They finally gained stability, nearly motionless relative to the ship.

“Bridge. This is Song. We are in position and awaiting a go.” 

Song hoped they would not have to wait long. Their order betrayed hesitation by Captain Maureau. He usually acted with brisk precision in his directives. Waiting in space made no sense to her. Song watched her heads up display timer counting the seconds, then the minutes, they worked to maintain their static position.

“EVA team. This is Commander Gray.” She paused. “Proceed to within thirty meters of the target ship. At that distance, deploy the hull surface sensor and activate a scan.”

Song smiled. Gray hardly needed to identify herself, but it was protocol. “EVA team. Move out. Proceed slowly. Orders as given.  Follow directly behind me at ten meter intervals. Hall. Kelley. Nansted in the rear.”

“Bridge. Song here. We are having navigation problems. Our pulse jets are working opposite what they should. Why is that? Is this a programming issue?”

“I noticed that, too, while we were trying to steady,” Hall said.

She moved forward pulsing the rockets that should have propelled her away from the ghost ship. Song adapted immediately, the others in the team not so quickly. Nansted accelerated past Song.

The light from the London’s high intensity search lamps generated no reflection. The ghost ship looked like a pit that would swallow them. 

Next: Chapter 17 The Ghost Ship Quivered https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2023/10/31/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-17-the-ghost-ship-quivered/

Art generated with MidJourney Software by Author

Previous Chapter 14: A Splinter in the Eye of God Stillness: https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2023/05/16/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-14-an-absolute-stillness/

Sitting in the dugout’s bow, Rance Yeoman floated down the Congo River.  He was going to see Araden Vastatis in Matadi. He thought it a preposterous place to visit. The air steamed like a lobster-boiling kitchen. He dripped sweat, his black hair clumping into sinuous coils that snaked down his forehead and over his ears. 

Butterflies landed on the dugout’s low gunwale, uncomfortably just above the water line. A bright red butterfly landed on his shoulder. He swatted it, crumpling its wings and flicking flakes into the muddy current. In the reeds, crocodiles sized him up for dinner. 

Never missing a chance to proselytize one of the people, Yeoman said to the dugout’s steersman, “Job seekers swarmed the dock. Finding a job must be near impossible.”

“There are a lot of us, for sure,” the steersman said, using his paddle to keep the dugout in the middle of the river. 

“You have to stay clean for certified work. Life must be hard. Do you like it here?”

“It’s home. Where else would I go?”

“With all the technology we have,” Yeoman said waving at the Matadi Advanced Aerospace Research Institute on the shore, “you‘d think the League could give you more than stupefying drugs.  Mankind should explore the heavens, use the Portal to explore the galaxy. There are countless opportunities, but the Emissaries withhold them from us. And they give no reason! ” Yeoman pounded the gunwale once and pulled his hand back as water spilled into the dugout.

“I guess. But I always thought the robots put us in limbo by taking away all of our jobs. Left the shit jobs for us.” The steersman pointed up at the shore’s campus of research buildings. “And you go to go meet the chief of the robot revolution.”

Yeoman raised his voice. “We are working on freeing you. Soon, you and your family will be free to explore new worlds with the robots serving you!” He could not help but get excited whenever he repeated his mantra of freedom in the exploration of stars.

The dugout floated towards Senator Araden Vastatis’s sleek, two-level yacht,  its airfoils tucked like the wings of a swimming waterfowl. No one greeted him when his dugout bumped into the yacht near a ladder. 

Rance carefully stood up, reaching for the ladder. He noticed a pair of eyes close to the dugout. Imagining large crocodile jaws clamping the dugout to pull it underwater, he frantically climbed the ladder.  He hoisted himself over the cable railing and landed hard on the deck. Sweaty knees, oily from sun block, slid on the deck giving him abrasions like those suffered as a child. 

“Ahh! What a fucking hell this is!”

He saw Araden Vastatis poke his head out a second level cabin door.  “Good Lord, come in out of the heat!” He wore a loose fitting white shirt which hung just past his waist. He had a tan the color of mahogany. Wearing sunglasses and holding a tall glass filled with ice, he looked like a man on a leisure cruise. 

Rance resented Vastatis’s casual attitude. Rance felt he worked hard during these meetings with Vastatis, starting upon his arrival. But Vastatis always seemed to be dismissive. And the meetings always ended poorly because Vastatis usually would not meet him halfway.

Rance stepped into the cabin and shivered. The cabin was kept at an icy cold temperature. “I love the heat in the Congo,” Vastatis said. “But not all the time.”

“This is a horrible place. Why did you base your manufacturing here?”

“The Congo is full of resources. I’ve developed Matadi as a transportation hub. Spying on us here is difficult. In fact, I’m planning to propose making the Congo a region of the Confederacy next week.”

“There had to be another place that would have met your needs. I almost died getting here.” 

“That’s your fault. I could have helped you get here in luxury. I think you like being miserable.”

#

Damn! Why did Yeoman have to disturb my sleep? These meetings are getting more frequent since he told me about our mutual dreams. 

Vastatis moved across the cabin and sat behind a chart table, motioning for Yeoman to sit down. Inexplicably, Lieutenant Song, carrying a stack of towels, appeared behind him in the cabin port.  Her appearance as a deckhand made no sense to Araden. She closed the door and offered a towel to Yeoman which he grabbed to wipe his sweaty face. 

Yeoman dropped the towel and moved to sit opposite Vastatis. He turned and considered her for a moment and then gestured for her to come over to him. Blood dribbled from his knees down his shins. “Use one of your clean towels to stop this bleeding.” 

She knelt and started to dab the blood on his skinned knees with a clean towel.  “I see you tolerate the hoi polloi on your yacht,” Yeoman said.

Vastatis ignored the preposterous sight of Lieutenant Song ministering to Yeoman. Vastatis looked directly at him and laughed. “Her people are hardly lower class. I’m not obsessed with Song like you are. You brought her along.  She is surely not part of my crew. ”

“She nearly killed the entire review delegation. Her kind does not belong on a League ship. ” Yeoman’s knees healed instantly as Song daubed them.  Yeoman kicked at the bloodstained towel and pushed Song away. 

“Her presence reminds me of what I’ll accomplish putting her people in their place.”

Distaste for Yeoman flared inside Araden. “Good luck with that. You know I employ a lot of Cereans?”

Yeoman frowned. “You have time to correct that.”

He looked around the cabin at the models of robots, androids, airplanes, and spaceships. “Why do you think your technology will impress the Emissaries and change them?  They will not partner with us.It’s with blood and sweat that you drive a revolution. Not by trotting out fancy technology.”

Vastatis winced. Blood and sweat! You look like a poster child for an orphan in a cheap film. The Emissaries will squash your revolution.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Vastatis said. 

“Water is what I need to survive this heat. No ice.” Vastatis signaled Song and she brought a glass of water without ice from the bar. “Put it on the table,” Yeoman said. “Then leave us.” Looking at Vastatis, he said, “She should not hear our discussion.”

Opening the door to leave, Song let in an icy wind. The weather was rapidly changing. Dark clouds came rolling out of the east over the jungle. I can’t even enjoy a dream about being on my boat. Yeoman always brings gloom with him.

“We may need some hot tea,” Vastatis said, amused with Yeoman’s confusion over the appearance of an approaching winter storm, a front of snow moving upon them. He had come to expect chill weather would accompany Yeoman. 

“Strange as it is, I think tea would be nice now,” Yeoman said.

Vastatis sighed. “But I can’t provide that. You just dismissed your servant who could have helped us. So, let’s get right to it. Why are you here?”

“We need to coordinate actions on the Emissaries,” Yeoman said. 

Vastatis looked out a window and saw the cityscape of his favorite city, London, had sprung out of the jungle. The purple glow of dusk framed the Parliament Building of the United League of Earth. Behind the Parliament Building, the massive Emissary Tower rose seven hundred meters over the city. It was rapidly obscured by the storm clouds rolling in.

“Excuse me. What provocative moves are we making right now?” 

“I want you to know that, for the upcoming elections, I am organizing a rally in Portal City. I will demand some say in how the Portal is used.”

“I thought we were waiting until after the joint task force operation to make any move.”

“This does not count as a move. Dock workers and ship crews will make up the crowd. A grassroots gathering will show the growing support of my Progressive Nationalists.”

       Calmly Vastatis set his glass down. Coordinate moves, my ass. What disaster are you planning? “Some of your gatherings turn violent. That’s the last thing we need right now as the joint task force is departing. You need to wait until after the exercises with the Emissaries to do anything that would provoke them. We need to find out what this apparent cooperation is about.”

“No! Don’t you see it? The joint exercises are the perfect event for the rally. They want something from the League. And Mars, too.” 

“Rance, you will still have plenty of time to make a speech after the joint exercises. Working together with the Emissaries may make them more open to requests.” 

“ I assure you the rally will be peaceful.” Yeoman’s smile had the slight upturn of a snake’s visage, looking like he had swallowed something. “But I will confer with Party members to reconsider the timing.

I have the feeling he’s not going to delay his rally.  I’ll send some of my people to try to keep things orderly.

#

Rance jumped when the door flew open crashing into the cabin’s wall. He turned to see dusk had already receded into night. City lights illuminated the jungle canopy was covered by a heavy snow. Trees bent towards the ground and large, wet flakes blew into the cabin, hitting Yeoman’s face.  Commander Song glided into the cabin. Yeoman thought she actually was dancing. She bowed and beamed a smug smile mocking him.  

He grabbed the edge of the chart table, anticipating Captain Maureau’s entrance. He appeared whenever he visited Vastatis in a shared dream. His arrival always coincided with a discussion of plans involving the Emissaries. These appearances prophesied interference by Maureau with their plans. He was sure of it.   

In a grand gesture, Song swept her arm towards the door. A warrior who Rance first took to be an Emissary stepped into the cabin. Platinum chest armor gleamed like an Emissary’s but, instead of a full helmet hiding its identity, mirrored sunglasses and a face gaiter obscured the face with a marine-style helmet covering the neck. Its shoulders were not protected with armor and showed the epaulets of a Star Force captain. Rance was certain it was Maureau. 

“God damn you! You always barge in.” Yeoman said. “Araden, you must be disturbed. He brought this winter with him to ruin your lovely jungle?”

Vastatis shrugged. “It’s your fault. You always bring him with you. This kind of entrance, though, is new. It looks like things are escalating.”

“So. Maureau. Now you want to be like an Emissary?” Yeoman sneered. “But as a ninja assassin? Or are you here to chant for us?”

Taking a plasma blade’s hilt off their belt, the warrior ignited it.  Blinding light caused the chest armor’s figure of a golden knight to glow. The faux Emissary lifted the plasma blade above its head. Yeoman screamed, fearful he was going to be assassinated.  The blade swung between Yeoman and Vastatis, cutting the chart table in half with barely a sound, except for a sizzle as two halves collapsed into one another.  

Song nodded at the two men with a knowing smile. Silently, the warrior backed out of the room, Song following. The door slammed shut.

A stunned Yeoman was speechless. He was sure this was Maureau threatening him again, interrupting their consultation. Out of the cabin’s view port, the dawn sun again shone, the snow canopy on the jungle beginning to steam. 

#

Vastatis jerked awake and swung out of his yacht’s bunk bed.  It was six a.m., still early evening on the East Coast of America.  Again, he had shared a dream with Yeoman. He could still feel Yeoman’s agitation and fear. Yeoman brings trouble with him. He is planning a demonstration in Portal City. I hate having to call him, but I must delay his rally.  

Vastatis would wait to call Miami as he did not like dealing with Yeoman’s unintelligible rambling right after he awoke from one of these dreams. The terror of this dream would surely exacerbate Yeoman’s usual emotional instability. 

He could see Maureau’s  intrusions terrified Yeoman, but Vastatis would also admit that Maureau’s appearances portended some complications for his own interests. He just had no idea what. He found himself oddly working with the Progressive Nationalist leader to undermine Maureau’s career. 

Sitting at the chart table, the Senator realized, ironically, how his own plans required Maureau’s run to Mars to be a success. The Joint Task Force had to include Earth forces. Vastatis hoped it was going smoothly.

Art prompted by author using MidJourney

Previous Chapter 13: An Absolute Stillness: https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2023/05/16/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-13-an-absolute-stillness/

 

Captain Anthony Maureau awoke disoriented and in a cold sweat. He sat on the edge of his bunk for five minutes trying to feel alert, sensing it was taking far too long to recall what was happening aboard the London. As he climbed up to the bridge, the increased weight from London’s two-G deceleration wearied him. Anthony feared the residual symptoms of fatigue and headache from his head trauma, only several days prior, would make it a challenge to function well over an entire watch.  

But he had to. This is not the time to turn the ship over to Commander Gray as we arrive at the nil-void. We still have work to do together to get us on the same page. 

Arriving on the bridge, Maureau recognized all of the bridge officers intent on their monitors. The security officer of the watch announced, “Captain on the bridge.” No one looked up. Yoshi, cables running into the base of the skull, lay in its jump seat with eyes closed, appearing asleep. 

Commander Gray sat in the captain’s chair, her gaze fixed on the main monitor which displayed data and external views of the London. Gray wore only the lower half of her G-suit. She did not look up at Maureau and was slow to rise out of the captain’s chair.

Maureau did not wait for her to turn and face him. “Number One. What is the status of our mission to the nil-void?” 

She glanced sideways without turning to face him. “The London remains at a steady two G deceleration. We are one hundred thousand kilometers from the nil-void. Twenty minutes away. The void is collapsing.”

The holographic display had changed since he last manned the bridge.  It still showed the nil-void’s black depths plunging within the faint gray of the display’s interplanetary space, but a bright ring of white light now surrounded the hole. 

“What am I looking at? Before turning over the watch to you, all I recall is the void, looking darker than the space around it. When did the ring of light appear?”  

“The ring appeared ninety minutes ago,” Grey said.

Yoshi opened its eyes and rose from the jump seat to squat. Staring at the display, it interrupted Gray. “It looks like a splinter in the Eye of God,” Yoshi nodded to itself, looking pleased.

Maureau again looked hard at the display and to finally see a black, needle-shaped object embedded within the ring of light. “Love the metaphor,” Maureau said. “This ‘splinter’, when did we detect it?”

Gray hesitated and Yoshi answered before she could. “The splinter appeared nineteen minutes ago.”

Song would have notified Maureau immediately.  What the hell! Independence is one thing. Judgment is another.   

“These are significant changes. I need to know about them immediately!” 

“We’ve been analyzing the splinter. Without knowing what it is, I decided not to disturb you,” Gray said. “My apologies, Sir. You returned just before I was going to notify you.”

Maureau paused, thinking of what to say next. “What do we know about these phenomena. Start with this splinter-object?”

Gray cleared her throat “It came out of the void. It’s not responding to our hale. I think it’s a probe. BDP, update us on the object.”

“Your BDP is named Yoshi.” 

There was an uncomfortable silence. Great! I have an XO who withholds critical information and now a biodroid pilot with an attitude.

Yoshi continued before anyone could say something. “It is three hundred meters in length.  The wider terminus  is fifty meters in length. It has four decks, each seven meters in height. The narrow terminus is two hundred fifty meters in length. It rapidly tapers over one hundred fifty meters from the wide section. The terminal one hundred meters is one meter wide and solid with equipment. 

“The vessel is not under power. Speed is steady at fifty kilometers per hour. It will be through the radiation layer in twelve minutes.” 

Yoshi spun to face Maureau and Gray. “The surface is one meter thick and made of an unidentified organometal. It is absorbing light. The signal reflected back from the vessel is diffuse. Scanners do not show life forms. There is a nidus of energy amidship, a reactor. Currently there is no distribution of power. The probability the vessel is a probe is zero point four five. The probability the vessel is a ship is zero point five five.”

Adrenaline kicked in, jolting Maureau into action. “Without receiving a response to our hale and given the fact we are not receiving any communication from Central Command, we will go to Condition One. Immediately.” Everyone on the bridge turned to look at Maureau. The alarm for general quarters sounded. 

“Send out a probe. This ship may have generated the nil-void. Yoshi, keep the engineering system primed for acceleration away from here. We need to slow down more to give us time to assess things. Set deceleration at two point two-five-G’s.” The warning alarm for change in deceleration sounded.

“Yoshi, confirm Senator Mitchell is all right with the prolonged deceleration. AIC, have someone from Security make sure Mitchell is secure and knows what Condition One means for him.”

Yoshi looked at Gray, clearly wanting to speak. Gray shook her head at it and began, “Captain, there are more things to consider as we move forward to engage this ship. We have not reviewed what we know about the halo of light around the nil-void.” 

Maureau clenched his jaw as a wave of vertigo made him grab his chair to steady himself. He hoped no one noticed. Should I surrender the bridge? But this is just not the time! Commander Gray waited for a response while he sat down and stared at the image of the nil-void.

“Of course. Go on, Commander!”

“BDP…Yoshi. Show the Captain what analysis of the radio signals showed.”

Yoshi changed the hologram to display the nil-void hole surrounded by a transparent outline of a sphere which extended millions of kilometers from the center of the nil-void. This sphere enveloped a large length of the transit lanes shown running from Earth to Mars, including the path of the London over the past six hours. The London’s deviation from its planned  course showed it going deeper into the sphere as the ship traveled towards the nil-void.

Grey stepped in front of Maureau, standing to the side enough to allow him to see the display. “What you are seeing, Captain, is the situation as we changed course towards the nil-void. Before you left the bridge, our communication signals were being absorbed by a sphere of interference from the nil-void.”

“Was this electromagnetic interference? Why did we not know this? ” Maureau said.

“The interference is not due to electromagnetic forces. Our comm signals went out and were bent and diffused across the surface of the sphere.  We could not detect this. ”

“What is this sphere, then?” Maureau said. 

Yoshi could not contain itself. “Some of the alter-universe exploded through the nil-void into the Solar System.  Its space acts differently than this universe. The London is within a bubble of the alter-universe which is acting differently than Solar System space. It is like a drop of oil in a vinegar solution. Things inside the bubble are not the same as outside. The alter-universe contains our signals.”

Maureau shook his head. He did not want to ask anymore questions. Bent forward, elbow on his thigh, he bowed his head and put his hand over his eyes and rubbed his temples. He waited. I should have been a part of this analysis, not learning about it now as we close in on this anomaly.

“Yoshi, stay silent as I explain things to the Captain. As I mentioned before, when you came back on the bridge, the nil-void is contracting and the sphere of alter-universe is being pulled back through it. Now, show how the nil-void has been contracting along with the sphere.  Both the sphere and the central void contract together. The energy glow at the border of the nil-void is an energy layer generated as the alter-universe spills into the nil-void. We see it like the corona of our sun.”

 Gray continued speaking rapidly, crisply. “Once the sphere collapsed to a certain point … BDP go back and show the point where things changed and we found out what was happening to our communications… Once the sphere collapsed to the size now shown, the surface started reflecting signals back to the London instead of absorbing them. It’s only when signals bounced back that we could detect we were in a bubble of sorts and that our signals were not getting through.” 

Still bent forward looking at the display, Maureau said, “When you detected reflected signals, you were able to determine what had been happening since we changed our course. Analysis showed the contracting field had been present for hours.”

Yoshi nodded vigorously. “Yes, Captain, that is correct,” it said in a low voice.

“Will we be able to communicate as we approach the nil-void?”

“Answer that,” Gray said to Yoshi. 

Yoshi bounced up from his squat to stand, turned around and looked at Maureau. “As London continues to decelerate the border of the bubble will pull back past us. Communication will open to Mars and the Emissary Portal Control Center.”

“And we will be able to connect with Earth?” Maureau said.

“There will be clearance to Mars in five minutes. Eight minutes after that, the line of communication will be open to Earth. 

“Captain, may I observe, since we have not been able to contact Alpha One, we may also be undetectable by Earth,” Gray said.

“I agree with you, Commander. But we are committed to probe the anomaly and make contact with this spacecraft. We will do this as soon as possible.

 “Communications. As soon as a channel opens up, send a secure message to the Emissary Portal Command Center.” Maureau looked intently at the display as the London appeared to be backing out of the sphere.  “Identify the London’s position and course. Inform them of our departure from our transit plan to investigate an anomaly. Yoshi, attach all of the data you have on the nil-void, the signal interference by the sphere of alter-universe, and the findings on the apparent ship.”

Anthony felt like he just dove off a cliff towards black water without any idea what was under the surface. “Ask them if the anomaly and the ship is one of theirs. If not, can they identify what it is?” 

I pray this is one of the Emissary wonders. Maybe, we are going to meet The Hidden?



Art by R.E.

Previous Chapter 12: Cheap Shot: https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2023/04/25/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-12-cheap-shot/

Rather than squat, as usual, Yoshi knelt in Engineering by one of the impulse reactor drives.  He had spread his arms wide, his fingers splayed with just the fingertips touching the surface of the drive chamber,  like two five-legged spiders, holding itself down on the floor. Their head was turned with their ear pressed against the drive’s metal surface. With eyes closed, they had been like this for an hour. 

Chief Freihoff floated nearby, wondering what Yoshi was doing. Yoshi remained motionless. Moving right up close, Freihoff could not detect any breathing. But the color of their face was good, reassuring Freihoff that Yoshi’s tissue was getting good oxygenation. 

Captain Maureau entered Engineering. “Chief. We are up to over one point five million kilometers per hour. How long should we hold our speed there?” He noticed Yoshi and stopped. “What is Yoshi doing?”

“I really don’t know, Captain. I have an idea, but I don’t want to interrupt him to ask while he is monitoring the shield.”

“You’ve never seen anything like this?” Maureau carefully floated by the cables running into Yoshi and leaned in to look at Yoshi’s face. Yoshi continued to maintain stillness, eyes remaining closed. Maureau looked at the cable that hardwired Yoshi into the ship’s mainframe system. “Obviously sensing the drive. But doesn’t Yoshi already have all the metrics it needs from our system monitors?”

“I think it’s something like his monitoring of our physical metrics when he pushes acceleration G’s,” Freihoff said. “Yoshi’s told me that all the input from the individual crew members is integrated into a single sensory measurement for the entire ship, not just for the sum of individuals. Similarly, right now, I think he is using his sense of hearing and touch to get some enhanced understanding of how the drive is doing generating the shield field.”

“I’m concerned, Chief. Now that we are up to one point five million, can the drive core maintain this shielding?”

“They’re not working hard. The cores are smoothly diverting power into the shields.”

“You should see what the dome of the forward shield looks like from the bridge,” Maureau said.  “Looking forward is like looking directly into the sun. You have to look away. It’s not just a glow, it’s got the brightness of a ball of lightning.”

“Yoshi told me he would monitor how much material and radiation gets through to the ship. So far, the occasional proton that gets through the shield has been slowed to a harmless velocity by the time it reaches our hull.”

A young star-sailor engineer stepped up behind Freihoff, beaming. “Captain, no ship in Star Force has ever reached, much less maintained this speed! We will set every speed record there is.”

“I know,” the Chief said. “We are only forty-two hours out and nearly a third of the way to Mars. A transit in five earth cycles. Unbelievable. There should be plenty of time for Senator Mitchell to meet with the Emissaries before they are scheduled to leave Mars through the Portal.”

Yoshi opened their eyes. The biodroid pilot took their fingers off the drive. “Yoshi has determined the probability of there being a problem with the drive and shield, while not sensing via audio and tactile sensors, is ten to the negative twelfth power. Is that an acceptably low probability?”

“Yes,” Maureau said. “Is that a joke, Yoshi?”

“No, that is not a joke. Yoshi was confident you would accept that probability. You did not order the multi-sensory monitoring in the first place. Some decisions are made with a higher probability of failure. Chief Freihoff has encoded Yoshi with the instruction to report the probability of adverse events when making a decision. That instruction does not include navigation decisions that must be made in nanoseconds.”

“What are you doing using hearing and touch to monitor the drives? Can’t you monitor digital sound profiles and pressure waves.” Freihoff said. Yoshi looked at the three men, back and forth between them. “You look like you are unable to answer that.”

“No, Chief Freihoff, Yoshi is working for the best answer. It will arrive momentarily.”

“Answer the question,” Freihoff said softly. “We want to know why you were listening and feeling the drive column with your, ah, humanoid organs.”

“Navigating space is more than just mathematical measurements. It is necessary for a BDP to feel the ship, especially feel how the drive is handling the stress.”

Maureau was perplexed. “But Yoshi, you have numerous digital sensors that pick up so much more than anything Freihoff could discern if he was listening to the drives like you were.” 

“Freihoff cannot integrate his senses with the data that the BDP has from the ship.” Yoshi looked expectant.

Maureau looked at him skeptically. “Yoshi is very different from anything in our manuals,” Freihoff said. “Why did it take you so long to come up with an answer?” 

“Yoshi is not supposed to feel things. BDP’s do not feel. Your BDP is saying they are getting an all encompassing feel for the ship. When integrated into the ship’s system, the ship becomes Yoshi, and Yoshi becomes the ship. It is impossible to explain it better than that.”

“Are you saying your feelings are more than just sensory perceptions that can be analyzed like all the other data being monitored?” Maureau said. “We describe emotions as feelings. Do you assess the sensory data as emotional?”

“The synthesis of all the sensory data, both from the ship, and from this organic platform, with its human sensory system, produces more than an analysis of data. It results in a higher level of output.”

“And when your body is ill?” the star-sailor said.

“You should know a biodroid pilot will shut off the organic input into the computer system and disappear into the ship,” Yoshi said. “But remember, the strength of a biodroid is in the organic neural networks it contributes to the mainframe. That is why a Star Force ship is using cloned biodroids. You lose some computing power when Yoshi is physically ill.” 

“Freihoff. You need to explore this,” Maureau said. “Find out what the other ships are experiencing with this new model of droid.”

Freihoff, Maureau, and the star-sailor just stared at Yoshi. 

Freihoff finally said, “So, Yoshi, how is the drive core ‘feeling’ about our pushing through space at this speed?”

Yoshi processed his response. “Things are good. There is capacity to safely go faster than London is going now with the shields continuing to protect the ship. Captain. Chief. Johnson. The London could safely maintain a speed double its current speed. The London needs to accelerate above one point five million kilometers per hour if it is to arrive in less than five Terran cycles. ”

“That is good to hear. Work this out with Navigation,” Maureau said. “I want to hold at our current one point five for two hours. The two hour burn we just gave the crew was nice. A five cycle transit gives us two  cycles to work with the Emissaries. If we cannot influence them in two cycles, we probably are not going to influence them.”

Maureau left Engineering troubled. He recalled Yoshi’s maneuvering of the London that resulted in Captain Plotkin getting sick. That seemed to Maureau to have an element of independent defiance operant in the BDP. 

I fear there is a downside risk to his human-like, sensory feelings that they describe as being more than additional input for data analysis. I wonder if there is a way of shutting this independence down without losing the special functioning Yoshi has. 

__________

Maureau returned to the bridge to await Commander Gray’s arrival to relieve him from the watch. On arriving, he asked the Action Information Center to monitor Yoshi closely. But if he is the system, how can we know what he is allowing us to see?

Gray’s wet hair attested to a recent workout and shower. She exuded a sense of dominance, apparently quite invigorated by her workout.

“That was a nice beak from weightlessness,” she said.

“We got up to one point five. Million. Per hour with that burn. You’re looking quite pleased with yourself,” Maureau said.

“Lieutenant Song and me just sparred and I showed her that Marine training is better than Ranger training.”

He flinched inside with Gray’s emphasis on the title of “lieutenant.”

“Oh? What did you use?”

“We used quarter staffs without protective equipment.”

“That was aggressive of you two,” Maureau said. He wanted to launch into her, tell her, as XO, she was tasked with caring for her crew, not beating on them. He kept silent, wanting to avoid a comment that appeared protective of Song.

“You have the watch, Commander.” 

Just as he was about to slide down the ladder near the center of the bridge, the Systems officer called out, “Systems reporting. Something is running in the background beyond our normal needs. It  is close to overloading the system.”

“Well, Systems. What is it?” Gray demanded.

“I don’t know, Ma’am. I can’t identify any of the ship’s programs running anything we usually run. It may be a virus. We need to cut some of our operations.”

Maureau paused above the hatch, studying his bridge. Everyone was hyper-alert. He forced himself not to make a recommendation. After all, he was off watch and the ship was under his XO.

“Navigation, what are you running?” Gray said.

“Navigation reporting. We are not running anything. Our BDP has the ship on autopilot.”

Gray called out to Engineering, “Freihoff! Report. What are you doing that would take system resources.” Commander Gray turned to the Systems officer. “Keep looking!”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Freihoff reporting. I presume this is Commander Gray. Impulse rockets on hold. Cores are running cool. Yoshi has been monitoring them closely. Right now, Yoshi himself appears to have shut down. I will check on him.” Maureau thought Freihoff had exaggerated his “no-problem” drawl.”  

“We have a problem here, Freihoff. Our system is at capacity and we can’t account for it!” Gray shouted.

“This is Systems reporting. We are at maximum activity. The system’s temperature is holding at an acceptable level. There is no fluctuation of usage, like you would expect. It’s just stuck at maximum.”

“Turn off long range sensors.  AIC, are any of your targeting systems running?”

“AIC reporting. Targeting systems are on hold. Only thing we got going is enhanced active radio projection.” 

“Turn off that enhanced operation.” Gray waited a half minute. “Systems, is that helping?”

“No, Ma’am. We are maintaining maximum utilization.”

“This is AIC. We are having trouble gaining control of the active radio projection. The BDP is using it.”

“Damn that BDP. How can it not release the sensors to our Systems control?” Gray was hot.

Maureau could not keep from saying something. “Commander Gray. May I recommend you find out what our BDP is doing right now?,” he said in a drawl that outdid any drawl Song or Freihoff generated, even at their most laid-back state. He caught himself. Why did her intensity draw out a calm, laid back response? “Freihoff told us he was looking into Yoshi’s state. We need to find out what he finds out.”

Gray ignored Maureau, but said, “Freihoff, what have you found out about the BDP?” They waited. “Systems, project your usage onto the main screen.” The graph looked stuck at the maximum level, without any fluctuation.  

“Yoshi’s more than awake now. He’s been doing an enhanced, long range, imaging scan and appears hyper-alert. He says, ‘don’t worry about the system usage. He is the system. Hejust unplugged and left Engineering. He’s quite excited and is coming to the bridge.”

“He needs to tell us what he is doing before coming to the bridge!” Gray shouted. “I have not requested the BDP to the bridge.” She looked at Maureau. “I’ve got this, Captain.”

He stepped away from the hatch and pushedback towards the central holographic display on the bridge. Without saying anything, he made it clear to Gray that he had taken back the bridge. 

“It’s my command, Commander Gray. Thank you. I want to know what Yoshi has been up to. Freihoff, Yoshi unplugged?”

“Yes, Sir. He just did it on his own and now is wireless. He did not wait for an order.”

“How do you use up all of the processing capacity doing an active scan?” Akhtar-Gatewood said. 

Maureau and Gray waited expectantly for Yoshi. Gray clenched her lips and said nothing.  Maureau could see she was upset that he had stepped in to take command. I’m sure she wants to order Yoshi back to Engineering. There’s a reason it is coming up to the bridge. But excitement in a BDP? Oh, do we have to get a hold on his functioning.

They both grabbed the railing around the central display which suddenly flashed a holographic image of the position of the ship and its path towards Mars. No other image shown. The surrounding space had a fine haze which shifted and whorled in places, like the subtle movement of fog.  They had never seen a display like this.

While studying the display, Yoshi suddenly popped through the hatch from below. They were spinning and did two flips before landing feet first on the deck above, cushioning their contact with bent knees. They then gently pushed off to float down to the upright deck with one flip landing between them and grabbed Gray’s leg to keep from bouncing away. Yoshi held his bicorn hat and firmly placed it on his head.

Gray looked unsure of herself until Maureau nodded to her. “London BDP. What are you doing with the computer system? We run the risk of failure.”

“Lieutenant Commander Gray. The London’s Biodroid Pilot has been named Yoshi.” Yoshi emphasized “lieutenant.”

“And I will be addressed as Commander Gray. Enter that into your circuits.”

“All of the capacity of the system is being used to scan ahead and optimize the route of the London. Adjustments are being made to avoid some of the more dense space debris. This display you are viewing is a schematic showing the relative density of the space gasses and debris. By steering clear of some areas, less stress is put on the shields.”

“Is that necessary to project so far ahead? No ship I know uses this navigational method.”

“Commander. No Star Force ship has maintained the speed the London is maintaining.”

“If you back off and free up some of the system, will you still have the ability to navigate around the denser areas?”

“Yes. This could safely be done, but more rapid adjustments would be needed, causing noticeable fluctuations in our gravitational forces, for the crew and, especially, Senator Mitchell.”

“I believe you should free up some capacity for us. That is an order,” Gray insisted. “Give back some of the systems’ capacity. Systems. Report to me, to us, when there is some free capacity.”

“Systems report. There has been a three percent backoff.”

“Give us at least ten percent back. That’s an order.” Gray said.

“Systems report. Utilization is up to one hundred percent.”

“Yoshi, that was an order!” Gray nearly shouted.

“Yes, Commander. I acknowledge your order, but there is new information to consider. That is why Yoshi came to the bridge. There has been detection of an anomaly and the scan range has been shortened but intensified at the same time,” Yoshi said as he floated into the holographic display, peering intently at a spot about one meter away from the point that represented the London. He floated up towards the ceiling deck, pointing at something Maureau could not appreciate. Yoshi bounced off the deck above, and pushed off to dart back down to the rail. 

The holographic display rotated with the London contracting into a point of light. The imaging of the interplanetary space expanded. Now the display looked to be nothing more than magnified swirls of fog.

“Commander. Captain. Look at this point.” Yoshi hooked his feet onto the rail to prevent drifting away and leaned into the display. He pointed at a point that looked no different than the rest of the roiling clouds. The holographic image became increasingly homogenous. 

“Yoshi is focussing in so you can see what is being detected.” He held out a finger and rotated the scan so that his finger touched a black line. That is all they could see. The entire bridge was staring at Yoshi. 

“What are you detecting? I see nothing,” Gray said.

Yoshi continued to expand the image until a fixed, black hole was evident in the holographic image. It clearly stood out from the homogenous haze around it. “This is a stationary phase hole, five kilometers in diameter at nine million kilometers distance. It is not drifting with our galaxy. Yoshi will call it a ‘nil-void’. There is nothing there. No gravitational field. No dark energy matrix. No interplanetary debris. It is an absolute stillness in space.”

“Commander. AIC reporting. We found the source of thirty percent of the memory use. The London is doing a deep gamma ray scan and the detector data is being processed by the BDP.”

“I did not order this kind of scan,” Gray said. 

Yoshi responded, “It is part of the enhanced acceleration procedure Yoshi is providing London.”  

“But gamma rays! For what purpose?” Gray looked incredulous. 

“To be able to find anomalies in the matrix of space, like the one just found.”

“Engineering,” Gray commanded sharply. “This is your XO. Chief Freihoff to the bridge.” 

Maureau wondered why Gray wanted the Chief on the bridge. She keeps discounting Yoshi. 

“Yoshi, what is the significance of this finding?” Maureau said. “I do not know what a ‘nil-void’ is.” 

Yoshi said to him quietly, almost in a whisper, “It is a tear in the universe. Part of another universe is intruding into this one.”

Gray overheard and laughed. “You detect an object five kilometers wide at a distance of nine million kilometers? We don’t have the capability to sense something that small at that distance.”

“The London is capable of doing this.” Yoshi flipped his feet so that he pulled himself out of the holographic projection back to the railing. He settled down on the deck again between Gray and Maureau grabbing Gray’s leg to prevent scooting past her.

“I’d like you to generate the margin of error on this finding,” Gray said, stopping her laugh and shaking her leg.

The bridge fell into a stillness and waited for Maureau to intervene. He just stared at Yoshi. The stillness was broken when Chief Freihoff floated up to the bridge. “Commander Gray,” he said with a smile. He seemed ebullient. “We are setting a record in our transit to Mars. No Star Force ship will get close to what we are accomplishing..”

“We have a problem with our BDP. This biodroid is out of control,” she said. Chief Freihoff frowned and looked at Yoshi. “Freihoff, do you know what the BDP is doing with the ship?”

“Yes, Ma’am, I do. Yoshi has accelerated us beyond one point five million kilometers per hour while maintaining the shields at a high enough level to protect us.  All the while, he is not stressing our drive or our crew. This is near magic.”

Maureau cleared his throat. “He is running the computer system at full capacity without reserve for our operational systems and he has generated gamma rays for a scan of the space ahead of the ship.”

“As Yoshi said to me, he is the ship’s system. Whatever he is doing is done to support the order we gave him, to get us to Mars as fast as he can. Commander, I have not forbidden him from doing these things.”

“Do you know how he’s doing this, or why? In fact, did you even know he was doing this,” Gray said.

“Frankly, I’m studying what he is doing with the drives in amazement. The engineering is beyond what Star Force uses. I don’t completely understand it. I admit I did not know about the use of gamma ray energy in his scans and sensory operations. But, may I speak frankly?” 

Maureau nodded to Freihoff. “Every time we allow Yoshi to upload into the ship, we are completely trusting him to take care of the London and our safety. With his operations, he is doing things before we know what they are.”

Yoshi mirrored Freihoff’s frown. It made him break into a laugh, which he quickly cut off. They all followed his look to Yoshi who instantly removed his frown, before Maureau and Gray could see it. 

“Commander Madelaine Gray,” Yoshi said firmly. “The scan of the anomaly will terminate with a cutback in the gamma ray scanning. It will be lost from London’s monitoring. With this updated information, do you still want Yoshi to proceed with freeing up the system to the point we lose the anomaly?”

“How far away is it, in transit time?” Maureau interjected. “If we explore it, how much time will be added to our transit?”

“It is four point five hours away maintaining current speed. Yoshi can decelerate to an exploratory speed over six hours. Diverting course to the anomaly will add at least six hours to London’s transit time to the Mars Portal, depending on how much time the London stays to observe the nil-void.  

“No one knows what a ‘nil-void’ is,” Maureau said, looking at Ahktar-Gatewood and Freihoff. “We should examine it closely. Slow the ship down as much as you can so our flyby allows us to optimally scan the phenomenon. Yoshi, maintain your scanning as needed to get us there, but do free up some reserve for our system. Use only what needed to maintain a fix on this, ‘nil-void.’”

The London went intoa Red Status and started a steady deceleration that called for use of g-suits. The increased gravitational forces were constant for hours. Maureau stayed on the bridge for the first three hours. As they approached the nil-void, it slowly contracted. At hour three, it was four kilometers in diameter.

They tried to call Alpha One Base to report their deviation in course and the finding of the anomaly.  There was no response. Communications reported the anomaly was interfering with their outgoing radio signal. 

Maureau was about to fall asleep after the first three hours of watching their progress towards the nil-void. He needed to get some rest. “It’s your bridge again, Commander. Inform me of any changes.”

Before leaving the bridge he called Engineering.  Freihoff, work with Yoshi and try to figure out what it means for us to fly towards a ‘nil-void.’ Is this radio interference going to disappear as the hole continues to contract. What are the risks? We don’t want to be drawn through a hole into another universe.”

Drawing by R.E.

Previous Chapter 11: No Turning Back https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2023/03/15/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-11-no-turning-back/

“What do you say, Lieutenant Song? Want to burn off some of the frustration I imagine you have?” Commander Madelaine Gray stood over Lieutenant Krista Song who was seated at a console studying the body cam video from Gray during the boarding of one of the pirate ships London encountered during its last mission. Gray had spared no firepower, committing her entire platoon of marines in the boarding. She also did not spare herself from potential fire, being the third one in through the ship’s airlock.

Song looked up at Gray. She was too close, pushing the back of her chair. She stood up, warning Gray first with a shift forward in her chair, followed by rising briskly. Gray had to back away abruptly. Song smiled at her. 

“Commander, I would enjoy that, very much. Are you suggesting we do some sparring?”

“Yes, I am. Quarter-staffs. The workout area may be busy since Senator Mitchell took over the lounge but I’m sure people will cede the floor to me,” Gray said. 

“Yes, I’m sure of that,” Song said.

__________

The Weapons Unit had an open space for workouts. There was enough room for a couple of treadmills and exercise bikes, and two weight stations. The space in front of the launch tubes was large enough for an exercise mat which was always being used, but the mat was barely large enough for martial arts sparring.  Since there was not much room for retreat, sparring sessions were usually brief as combatants were forced to face one another at close quarters. 

A Chief Warrant Officer for the Weapons Unit oversaw the area for workouts, enforcing the usage rules and making sure the equipment was stowed properly between sessions. Crew members had to reserve time slots to use the equipment. It was usually crowded with people using all the stations, crew members lingering to socialize as they recovered from their workout, and those waiting for their time spot to open for a station.

When Song arrived, Gray was already standing next to the exercise mat where several crew members were doing stretches and calisthenics. With Senator Mitchell making the lounge unavailable, the exercise room was  more crowded than usual. Gray stared at the crew using the mat, making it clear she wanted to use it, expecting that they would cut their sessions short. She held two quarter-staffs, but had not brought out the standard protective equipment used in sparring. As soon as the exercisers picked up on her impatience, they hurriedly left the mat.  

“Thank you,” Song said apologetically to them. “So you want to spar without any protective gear?” Song said.

“Come on Song, these staffs are padded, and they bend.”

Song shrugged. “There’s a reason we usually wear protective gear, but I’m up for it. The padding on the staffs doesn’t really cushion a good slap. And that thin exercise suit you have on won’t dull a whip much.”

Gray rolled her eyes. “You have to be kidding. To hit me takes getting through my defenses. I’m not concerned about possible discomfort. Are you?”

Song shrugged. “There’s a reason we usually wear protective gear.”

As soon as the mat cleared for them, Gray bound onto it. Song stepped on after her. They dressed for their martial arts workout completely differently. Gray wore a unitard exercise suit that showed off her physique. Song wore traditional martial arts garments, a loose fitting jacket and pants, with a belt securing the jacket closed. 

They also warmed up in different ways. Gray stretched, ran in place, did pushups and some handstands and front flips, exercises that warmed up her muscles for strength.  Song also stretched, but also went through a martial arts sequence that emphasized balance and reflexes. Their warmups attracted a group of spectators. Some crew who had finished their workouts started to linger longer than usual to watch the two of them spar. Gray acknowledged the crowd, nodding to some of the marines who were there.

The sparring quarter-staffs were two meters in length, held with both hands in the middle with their ends coated in a thin layer of spongy padding that was tight to the staff, and provided little cushion. Sparring partners usually wore protective guards for the chest and abdomen, upper legs, and forearms, along with a helmet, though head shots were not typical in friendly sparring. The padding on the staff helped decrease the likelihood of a laceration from a blow, but without protective body equipment, a hard enough blow would leave a deep bruise at the least. 

“You really have it out for me,” Song said matter-of-factly. She looked at Gray without emotion. “I don’t understand why.”

“We are officers and know how to maintain control in our sparring. I hate the restriction of the padded guards, don’t you? Ready for some warm up cycles?”

“Of course,” Song said. They started by exchanging blows with their quarter-staffs in a choreographed pattern, each move part of a prescribed routine. This was the major exercise of the sparring session, as the motions called for quick reflexes and maintenance of the reactions taxed endurance. Bystanders looked impressed with the speed with which they sparred.

After about  five minutes, the only discrepancy from a normal sparring session was that Gray’s blows were not light and loose as they should have been in a mutual warmup. She hit with considerable force, knocking Song backwards on the mat repeatedly. 

“Is this the way marines ‘warm up’, working to knock their partner off the mat?” 

“To command the platoon, Song, you’ll  need to learn how we approach combat, including hand-to-hand combat.” Gray said. 

“Oh, this is combat? Maybe they’ll have to learn something about sparring from me,” Song said. 

With that comment, Gray charged directly at her and hit the middle of Song’s staff with her own. She applied all of her strength and the blow caught Song off guard, knocking her backwards several steps, but without disrupting her balance. A murmur went up from the spectators.

“I take it, warmup is over,” Song said with a smile that hid her concern over Gray’s intent in this match. Song’s fighting style called for bending and redirecting blows, but there really was not enough room to move with the fluid responses she usually used.

Gray’s method was to move directly at Song to lock their quarter-staffs in the middle and push her backwards, finishing with a rotation of her staff in a spin to sweep Song off her feet. It was easy to defend as long as she moved to prevent Gray from pushing her backwards against the wall. She let Gray approach her this way again and again. 

You have to have more maneuvers than this. Or is your strategy to just wear me down?

Song pivoted sideways and met her thrusts. Gray tried to slide her staff down Song’s to clip her hands, a maneuver that could have injured her fingers were she not prepared. But Song was able to disengage. They exchanged blows without making body contact. It was like a boxer pummeling a punching bag, a rapid exercise that could not be kept up indefinitely. You just want to wear me down. Or break my staff with your blows. Sweat streamed in rivulets down Song’s face and neck and spotted her jacket and pants. Grey’s movements threw off droplets from her soaked exercise unitard.

Gray flipped her staff to hold it by one end, then spun and, in a sweeping motion, tried to trip Song.  The move was easily blocked. Gray’s eyes blazed with malice. She clearly needs to win this exchange to put me in my place. Is this about the Action Information Center holding the summons for Hall? Song frowned.

“Do you want to quit?” Gray said.

“No. I’m sure we both have something left in us to get out.”

 Let her win, but not too obviously. She’s working through the Marine’s Seventh Protocol which she does not expect I know. Pretty simple. I can pick an exchange to  falter in and let her get through.

Song executed an unnecessary jump spin, opening herself up to a blow to her thorax. Instead of slapping her with a blow, – the kind that would have cut her in half had the staff been a laser blade- Gray shifted and plunged forward with her staff. She hit Song in the stomach with the end of it using all of her strength. Despite reflexively contracting her abdominal muscles, the blow felt as if she were hit by a sledgehammer. Song staggered backwards off the mat. With the wind knocked out of her, she slowly started to rise from the mat, Gray swung a barely restrained blow across Song’s head. She collapsed to the mat, seeing stars, her limbs feeling like leaden putty. Some spectators gasped.

She stayed down, not wanting to risk another blow. Gray seemed enraged, but even so, she could not possibly hit her again with so many of the crew watching. 

Gray knelt down next to Song and lifted her up under both of her arms. Straddling her Gray yanked her to a kneeling position.

“That’s not necessary, Commander,” Song barely squeezed out. She tried to shake out of Gray’s grip, “Leave me be.” But Gray held her firmly under both arms and nearly pulled her up off her knees.

“Good match, Song. A bit short, but you don’t look like you can continue. I need to get back to the watch, anyways.” Gray let go of Song abruptly, Song wavering and nearly falling down to the mat except for another crewman quickly stepping in to brace her. Gray stood over Song. “You look to be in good hands. I’ll go now.”

 I guess she really did have it out for me and wasn’t interested in a workout. Does she realize how this looks to the crew? 

Her vision still skipping sideways, Song heard Gray leave. “Commander, are you all right?” a crewman said. “That was quite a blow you took. Two blows.” She gently steadied Song by one shoulder.

Song waved the crewman off who slowly let go of her shoulder allowing Song to roll into sitting, bent forward holding her stomach, trying to get a full breath. It took a few minutes for Song to regain her breath and clear her head. She stood up, drawing herself up with shoulders thrown back. The spectators had hurriedly cleared out of the exercise hall. Only the concerned crewman had stayed along with those who stayed on machines during the match and were curiously over-concentrating on their exercise without looking up.

“It looks like people are uneasy with the results of our sparring.”

“That looked like it was more than sparring, Sir. Are you going to get checked out for that headshot?”

“Thank you for your concern. You’re in AIC, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Gillian Artmore. I just offered you help before we left earth, looking at the videos of the crash.”

“There were marines here?” Song said.

“Yes. I think so. At least three.”

“Song shook her head. “It’s not good to show weakness in front of them.”

“The news from this match will get out, and it won’t be good for Commander Gray.” 

“Why’s that?” Song said.

The star sailor looked uncomfortable, hesitant to answer the question. Song raised her eyebrows inviting an answer.

“It looked like Commander Gray was not sparring. Like she was in combat. Looked like she wanted to do damage. And…”

“Yes?” 

“And the head shot was so unnecessary. A cheap shot, if you consider you’re supposed to be sparring.”

“She was pretty intense. I guess she was making  a statement.” 

“Yeah, that’s one way to consider it, Ma’am. You need to get checked out, in my opinion.” The crew that was left in the workout room continued to ignore them.

“I’ll get checked out in the Medical Bay. Whew, what a way to start this mission. Thanks.” Song stood up, wobbled, and then took a step. Artmore stepped up and helped her, respectfully contacting her shoulder just enough to steady her. 

“May I accompany you,  Sir?”

“That would be nice. You know something, Gillian? This will not ever happen again. I’ll let you know the next time we spar.”

Previous Chapter 10: Everything We Abhor: https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2023/02/18/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-10-everything-we-abhor/

 

“It’s time to get moving,” Commander Gray said, pacing the bridge.

“Patience. We have no mission without Senator Mitchell aboard. Anyways, Wu needs more time to prep his quarters in the lounge,” Maureau said to Gray. 

“He’s going to take over our lounge. More stress on the crew. Great!” 

“The trip is only going to take a couple cycles. Think of a way the crew can unwind other than drinking in their berths.” Maureau looked over at Gray’s muscular physique, knowing she would recommend workouts for the entire crew for off-duty relaxation. Which is good, I guess. But sure is different from Song’s recommendations for meditation. Madelaine is more anxious to leave than I am.

Senator Connor Mitchell arrived aboard the London just two hours before they had planned to leave earth’s orbit. Like Senator Vastatis, he traveled on his private yacht. To try to comply with the Doctor’s recommendation to conserve his energy, Maureau did not want to be the one to greet him. But he was uncertain of Gray’s etiquette as a formal host. He decided to go to the airlock bay and welcome Mitchell aboard. 

Maureau immediately showed Mitchell the converted crew lounge that would serve as his office and bedroom. It was the most spacious quarters on the ship. Mitchell made no effort to hide his displeasure with the quarters. “This trip will be suffocating in these quarters. I will need to be treated for claustrophobia by your doctor. There are so many men in a ship not much bigger than my own yacht.”

Maureau winced. Now this is just wrong in so many ways! In the first place, you’re exaggerating the size of your yacht. This lounge accommodates a dozen crew. And damn it, you need my ship.  

“Yes it will be a much closer ship than you are used to. And it will be one click more claustrophobic with you being aboard,” Mitchell made a sour face, a distinguishing visage caught on countless photos.

“Senator, you may enjoy being on the bridge as we get under way.”

“Yes, that is where I should be as we set off,” Mitchell said. 

“Before that, you have time to get settled in. When you’re ready, push here on this panel. Just identify who you are and let us know you are ready.”

With less than fifteen minutes left before they were to scheduled to leave orbit, the Senator called the bridge. “Maureau,” he blasted in everyone’s headsets. “I’m ready to come to the bridge.”

A stony-faced security officer helped Mitchell through the hatch and Maureau grabbed his arm as he floated up towards the deck above.

“Are we going to be weightless most of the way?” Mitchell said.

“No, we will be accelerating most of the way, so there will be a gravitational force, sometimes greater than what you experience on earth. You will have to climb up and down the ladders against above-normal gravitational forces. They make you feel heavier than you already are.” That did not sound right saying it to an obese man.

“Captain, I’ve been in space before. I know about increased G’s. If they had used a larger capital ship, I would have been spared all this. I have no idea why your ship was chosen.” 

“No matter the size of the ship, it needs to accelerate beyond one-G. The London established itself as faster than the other ships,” Maureau said. “We were chosen to get you to Mars as fast as possible.” 

Commander Gray floated up to the two of them, holding onto the rail before the holographic display that showed Alpha One Base Station and the ship traffic around it. The damage to the Station done by the collision of the London stood out like a prominent blemish.

“Let me introduce you to our XO, Commander Gray,” Maureau said.

The Senator ignored her. “Anthony, you know what’s really at work here. Your ‘Maureau name.’ Your father’s very influential. I believe the other ships could have gotten the job done.” 

Gray withdrew her offered hand from Mitchell. “Senator Mitchell, our ship’s Commander is addressed as ‘Captain’.”

He looked over at Gray. “So, you’re the officer that replaced that mad woman who…”

“…saved both Gray’s and my life,” Maureau finished. “Yes, Commander Gray is our new XO.” He was relieved she had changed the subject away from his father. Why does everyone think my father has anything to do with my position in the Star Force?

Mitchell frowned. “I connect with people, Maureau… Captain. I should be on a first name basis with you.”

“Not on the bridge, Senator,” Gray said. “Or should I address you as Connor?”

“Thank you, Commander, for defending my honor,” Maureau said as he turned to Mitchell. “Senator, I think Commander Gray has a valid point. The bridge is an intense place, and we are very formal here.  Just don’t call Commander Gray, Madelaine. I don’t want to be responsible for the fallout.” Maureau gave a stage smile, first at Mitchell, and then Gray.  “Now that we have been introduced, let’s attend to our voyage to Mars.”

“Captain, our BDP is standing by to integrate with London,” the Action Information Center officer of the watch said.

“Commander Gray, the London is yours to take us out of earth obit.” Maureau stepped back from the holographic navigation display, giving Gray control of the ship. 

“There is no need to have the BDP integrate at this time,” she said. “We need to be able to pilot our ship out of orbit without relying on the system to do it for us. Lieutenant Ahktar-Gatewood, I trust you are up to it?”

“Of course, Sir. It’s most satisfying. Just as satisfying as it was to manually bring the London into our docking bay at Alpha One.” Ahktar-Gatewood looked relaxed in contrast to Gray, who looked like she was going into battle. 

They felt the gradual shift from the free floating of zero-G to the sense of gaining weight. They settled onto the deck. Mitchell gave a grunt of satisfaction as they gently accelerated, able to plant his feet on the deck. They started to move out of earth orbit. 

“Senator, when our BDP finally does integrate with our navigation system, we’re going to turn the ship over to him.” Maureau gave Ahktar-Gatewood a knowing look. Ahktar-Gatewood would know Yoshi should be integrated with the ship as soon as possible. Maureau was confident he would be able to negotiate this with Gray without threatening her sense of authority. 

“Our BDP is named Yoshi and he will maximize our acceleration,” Maureau continued. “One element of his acceleration is knowing everyone’s response to the physiologic stress he is subjecting us to. He will monitor your vital sign monitors through the g-suit and take into account your physiology to control the ship so that you will not be over-stressed.”

“How can the BDP account for my physiology?”

“Remember, a  Star Force BDP, a computer. He has access to everyone’s medical files and takes into account your limitations.”

“I thought medical records were locked down. Confidential.”

“They are Senator,” Gray said. “But Star Force BDP’s have access to the records of all aboard a deployed ship. None of the crew is going to have access to your medical history.”

“I have someone coming up from Security right now to take you there to be fitted,” Maureau said.

“I need to review my instructions from the Prime Minister first.”

“That’ll wait,” Gray said. “The operations of this ship take precedence. We are going into a hard acceleration in one hour.”

Maureau looked over at Gray, then to Mitchell. He could see that Mitchell was not used to someone talking to him like Gray did. A marine arrived to escort the Senator to the Security Division. The Senator frowned but protested no further.

Engineering’s Freihoff called asking for Maureau. “Captain, good that you’re back with us.”

“Thank you, Chief. What do you have for us?”

“All of the new BDP’s are enhanced to safely work wirelessly. They’re supposed to be just as reliable connected wirelessly as they are when hardwired. Permission requested to try the wireless out now, until Yoshi has to maximize our acceleration? Then we will go hardwire.” 

“We go into hard acceleration in less than hour. Does not give you much time to get him integrated, much less assess his wireless connection.” 

“Both Yoshi and Engineering will monitor the streaming. A half hour should be enough time, Sir.”

“Set battle-level standards for the wireless integration and let’s see how good the connection is. But wait for the order from Commander Gray who has the bridge.”

“Confirmed. Yoshi will be wireless until Commander Gray gives the order for hard acceleration.  When she gives the order for hard acceleration, we will go back to hardwire.”

Gray intervened. “Chief, I will let you know when the BDP should integrate with the London. Right now, we are on manual.”

“Oh?” Freihoff stayed silent.

“Await Commander Gray’s order to integrate in preparation for the hard acceleration planned in,” Maureau said checking the clock, “in fifty-five minutes.” Maureau wondered how explicit he needed to be. She is not picking up the suggestion that Yoshi should be integrated as soon as possible. I will need to find a way to instruct her without undermining her. 

He went into the ready room and switched to a personnel channel. “Song. The Senator will be there in a moment. He is to be fitted with a g-suit. Could you help optimize the experience for him? Help him develop a positive attitude and become engaged with becoming part of the crew. He needs to want to contribute to the record time we are going to set on our trip to Mars.”

“I don’t quite understand, Captain.” Song sounded dull. Flat.

“He is a sour man that wants nothing to do with us. We are too ’small’ for his importance.  But he must rely on us to get him to the Portal as fast as possible. He could benefit from a more positive attitude to help us push for a record time.”

She brightened. “Ok, Captain. I see. We’ll get him engaged in helping us.”

__________

Song anticipated the court martial summons for Hall would arrive as they left earth’s orbit. The London was accelerating at one point zero-G’s and the order had just been given to prepare for super one point zero-G acceleration. 

“Commander… I mean Lieutenant Song. This is the AIC. We just received the transmission you were waiting for, a communication from Alpha One’s Office of Military Justice to the XO.”

“What is going on in the bridge?”

“Captain Maureau has left. Commander Gray has the watch. She is arguing, I mean discussing something with Lieutenant Akhtar-Gatewood.”

“How soon will we go super one point zero?”

“Pretty soon,” the AIC officer said. “Within an hour.

“How long can you hold the communication?” Song said.

“Not at all. But I can make the ‘mistake’ of putting it into the ‘routine’ administrative queue, even though it is flagged as ‘action-needed’.”

“How long will it sit there, do you think?” Song said.

“The XO should get to these messages on this watch.”

“I believe this is not a priority for the XO at this time. Getting this mission off is much more important. I recommend you make it ‘routine’.”

 Song expected that Commander Gray was immersed in the details of getting the BDP integrated into the London and setting the crew up for a hard acceleration. Attending to administrative notices would not be a priority. That was good. Song still had some influence on the bridge and had insured the Action Information Center would not bring it to her attention.  

By the time the AIC brought the message to Gray’s attention it would be too late for her to comply as the ship would be on its way. Gray would not recommend the ship turn back to Alpha One Station. 

Song did not care if Gray found out about her recommendation to the Action Information Center to reclassify the message to ‘routine’. Gray would have sent Hall back to Alpha One. She felt her demotion to command of the marines  left her little to lose. Gray might feel her authority had been subverted. In more than one way, there was no turning back, both the ship and her challenge of Gray. In the meantime, Song felt she had added a good marine to her team.

__________

Song made a point to tell the marine who went up for Mitchell that the Senator needed to participate in making the transit to Mars as fast as possible. For this reason, the marine needed to make him feel important, a critical participant in a successful mission. The marine acted extremely formal upon arriving back in the airlock chamber with the Senator. He behaved as if he were accompanying a most important dignitary.  

Mitchell breathed heavily. Assessing his paunch, Song thought that Yoshi would be challenged to push acceleration. They were not even up to normal earth gravity.

“Senator Mitchell. I am Lieutenant Song.” 

“You are the former XO!”

This took her by surprise. “Yes, I am, Senator.”

“You nearly killed the delegation reviewing the Task Force.”

“The fractured plastiglass was not expected. I extend my sincere apology for the alarm the incident caused you and the delegation.”

“And now you’re a lieutenant assisting a fat man into a space suit.” He studied her as if she were a statue in an art museum. She ignored his stare. 

One of the marines brought over a g-suit. “We will give you privacy to suit up, Senator. One of my men, or women if you prefer, will help you secure the g-suit.”

Song remembered Nicholas Hall had been in with the delegates when the London hit the Station. She had him offer help to the Senator in fitting and in completing the suit-up, while she stepped out of the airlock bay. 

 While working with Mitchell, Hall shared his experience with the fractured plastiglass and the ensuing mayhem. The Senator readily discussed his own fear for his life. Mitchell had been physically helped by Hall in evacuating the amphitheater and he expressed gratitude. Apparently, he felt a camaraderie with him.

Hall stood at attention and inspected the Senator. “Senator, we are ‘a go’ for setting a record to get you to the Mars Portal.”

Senator Mitchell smiled.

Song stepped back into the airlock bay. “Thank you, Hall.” The gravitational force was increasing above one-G. “Accompany Senator Mitchell back to the bridge. It feels like we are preparing to take off.”

__________

Two hours later, they had just completed the hard acceleration and were cruising at one point three-G’s when the Gray contacted Song.

“Song. What authority do you have to move an ‘action-needed’ message to ‘routine’?”

“I know what the message is and its content is not urgent given the priorities of the London.”

“How the fuck do you know what it’s about? And how dare you decide how communications come to the XO and whether it is important to executive leadership? I found out it was held at the Station for twelve hours!” 

“Commander Gray, we need Hall. The charge is preposterous against him. He acted to save many people. I saved you from having to decide to turn the ship back. This is all administrative crap. He can face this bullshit court martial later.”

Gray’s voice was icy. “Song, I don’t care how much influence you have. On the Station. Or on this ship. You are not the XO. This was not your call. This isn’t the way to start your career back as a lieutenant. Do not pull something like this again. I have a temptation to leave him on the Portal for transport back to Alpha One. They may insist we do that anyways. So you left me with a tough decision, after all.”

“I trust you will make the best decision for the London,” Song said.

There was a long silence. “I will perform my duty as the ship’s XO and you will not question me or my orders. You cannot judge me.”

Gray was taking Song’s action personally. It was clear to her that she not only had to deal with a demotion, but she would also have to manage being commanded by someone who had it out for her. She had made an enemy.