“Your biometric readings are getting a little erratic Lieutenant. Perhaps you should take a rest. You are on your eighth run. Nobody would think less of you for calling it a day.”
Bob’s head lolled to the side and his view settled on the gently glowing crystal lattice in the co-pilot seat. Her connectors reaching out to the small landing craft controls made her look like some kind of technological octopus from the Earth oceans.
“I would think less of me, and the kids I promised food to today in the southern colony would have good reason too as well. I told them they would get more food by sundown.”
The Sister, she hadn’t been given a name yet, contemplated that for a few moments then said, “I wish I could make the calculations for you.”
“Don’t feel bad,” Bob replied, “You and your sisters were just not designed to be able to interpret the vortex based mathematics needed for faster than light travel. I mean, you may have if your creators had pioneered that form of math and physics by the time you were built, but they hadn’t, so you aren’t. There’s nothing wrong with that. You can’t be good at everything.”
“Still though, it is hard seeing you so tired and not being able to do anything to help.”
Bob returned his view to the screen and brought up images of the hive of trade drones filled with relief supplies and said, “You see all those? It only takes one of you or your sisters to network an entire fleet and synchronize it for simultaneous jumps. Normally all those ships would need pilots of their own. You and your sisters are enhancing our efforts far beyond what any other individuals are doing in this spacelift.”
Her crystals pulsed softly and she said, “Well, it seems to me there is a lot more we could be doing if we were a little more capable.”
Bob’s antennae wobbled in disapproval as he said, “No, that’s not a healthy way to look at things. Nobody can do everything well. You should focus instead on what you are good at and what you can do. If you do your best with what you have that is all any reasonable person can ask of you. You have to trust there will be others that are able to fill in the gaps where you are weak. Don’t compare yourself to what others can do; compare yourself to what you can do.”
Bob paused a moment as his brain tried to keep up with the conversation, then he continued, “Look at me for example. By design and training I am really good at plotting navigational jumps. Do you think for a second I look down on myself for not being able to network the fleet like you can?”
“Well, no,” she responded, “That doesn’t make sense. It is not in your nature as the kind of life form you are to do that.”
“Exactly,” Bob replied, “So be charitable and apply that same standard to yourself. I know it is a little different for you, but for organics like me misunderstanding this sort of dynamic has led many to get really depressed.”
At this, a small hologram of the Sister assuming a Krador image appeared on the dashboard, “What do you mean depressed? How so?”
“Well,” he began, “It turns out it is really natural for us to compare ourselves to people that are very different from us and by doing so feel like we don’t measure up. The truth, though, is that everyone is unique, and we all have ingrained strengths and weaknesses, like it or not. Also, and I would say far more importantly, we all have different life experiences. It’s unrealistic for me to compare my fighting abilities with one of the Marine Sergeants in the fleet. They are all human, have training for combat, and possess actual experience from the war.”
The little image of the Krador waved her antennae in understanding, “Yeah, I suppose so.”
Bob continued, “Well, a lot of life forms don’t realize that principle. They see exemplars of certain skills or virtues they desire to have for themselves, and they don’t realize that it took those people a lot of invisible life events and personal experiences to become what everyone sees. A lot of the time the people they want to emulate are much older than they are too, which means more time to practice and refine their skills or character. It makes for unrealistic self-expectations. Those lead to disappointments in themselves, and then it is a short step to depression.”
“That’s really insightful, Lieutenant, how did you come to all this understanding?”
“I visit a counselor every other week. Expedition crew are only required to go once every two months, but I think he helps me sort out a lot of things before I even know they are issues. When I recognized that, I requested an increase in my time with him and it was approved.
The little hologram nodded her head thoughtfully, “I met the counselor on the Redeemer when I was assessed for this job. I liked her. Do you think she would see me for sessions like that?”
Bob’s tired state had lowered his guard somewhat and he let slip, “More than happy. With all the issues you and your sisters have from centuries of psychological trauma they have asked us to encourage you in any way we can to seek out their help. They want it to come from you though. It’s not as helpful when that kind of thing is made mandatory.”
“Wait, what? Are you telling me all this to encourage me to see a counselor?” she asked.
Bob’s antennae went still for a moment and he said, “Uh, no, not at all. I hadn’t even thought about it until you brought it up.”
The little hologram waved her antennae skeptically at him and didn’t say anything.
Bob noted, “Wow, you are really getting our antennae emotional communication down.”
She brought the antennae back to almost laying on her head indicating strong annoyance or anger and responded, “Thank you. Don’t change the subject.”
Bob brought his upper arms up and stroked them across his antennae, a gesture much like a human rubbing their eyes, and said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t supposed to say anything about it. Please don’t mention it to your sisters. I am just really tired and I was not as careful as I should have been in talking about it. Truth be told, I am really bad at manipulating people, and being as tired as I am I wouldn’t try it anyway.”
The little hologram’s body language relaxed and she said, “Yeah, okay. I understand. I won’t say anything to the others. We don’t really talk that much, you know.”
At this Bob looked down at the little hologram and said, “I am sure that’s true by your original standards of being in regular communication, but you talk a lot more than you think we know about. We have detected the low band signal exchanges you and your sisters have whenever you get together.”
There was a surprising amount of energy n her voice as she asked, “You know about that? Have you been listening in?”
“We know about it, but we don’t listen in. More importantly, we don’t mind. Connolly trusts you, so he said to give you your privacy and ignore it. If we trust you to basically take over our ships, it would be pretty silly to not trust you in what are basically family communications. I will admit though, I have often wondered what kinds of things you talk about.”
“Oh, we just talk about current events on the ships, our observations of the crew, things like that. Really whatever interests us.”
Bob stopped what he was doing on the console for a moment and exclaimed, “Really? That’s all? I thought it would be trading ship schematics or latest tactical reviews or something given your original construction parameters.”
The little image of the Krador waved an upper appendage dismissively and responded, “Oh, no, we do all that with main signal data packets. The whispers are for more personal things.”
“The whispers?”
“Yeah, that’s what we call the low band communications. They are really short range due to the limited power we use, and we figured you guys wouldn’t notice them. They are pretty similar to whispering in vocal speech.”
A few moments passed as Bob processed what she had said, and then he replied, “That’s pretty cool actually.”
A congenial silence rested over the cockpit as Bob completed the calculations for the jump. As he did so, she used her control of the individual ships to make final adjustments before transit.
Bob took one last look over the readouts then said in a rather mechanical tone, “Final coordinates loaded for transit to Nebula A4. Confirm fleet status.”
“Fleet ready for jump, Lieutenant,” she responded briskly.
Bob reached down and tapped the console as he said, “Jumping.”
Pale blue washed through the windows and when the ship recalibrated its sensors they saw a different field of stars than they had moments before.
Bob looked at the panel again and said, “I am showing all systems normal, please confirm.”
It was not usual for him to request she double check him. She assumed he wanted to make sure he wasn’t missing something in his tired state. She was happy to be given the task; it made her feel important.
“All systems normal, fleet position within normal deviations. Good jump.”
Bob nodded his head slightly and asked, “How long until the fleet is able to jump again?”
“Cargo shuttle capacitors were depleted 96% with that last transit. They will not be recharged for a little shy of 23 minutes. So, it should be about 20 minutes before you need to start making the next jump calculations.”
Bob perked up at that, “I haven’t heard you or your sisters use such vague terminology before.”
“Oh,” she said, “Did I do it wrong? We were whispering the other day and trying to figure out how to better fit in with the crew. We noticed that when we aren’t in a high stress situation, the crew tends to use less exact terms. I bet I did it wrong, sorry.”
Bob clicked and popped in a Krador laugh and said, “No, not at all. You did it perfectly. It was just a pleasant surprise is all.”
The hologram grasped all four of her little manipulator hands together and exclaimed, “Really? I did it right?”
“Yes, you did. Good job.”
The projection beamed with satisfaction, “Yay! I will have to report this success back to the others.”
Bob poked at the panel a couple times and said, “Just two more jumps to go. Hey, can you do me a favor?”
“Well, without a physical body beyond the ship I am somewhat limited, but within those parameters, absolutely.”
“I need you to talk to me and keep me awake. I am fading fast here and I can’t fall asleep on duty.”
The little hologram snapped one hand up toward its head in a salute and said, “Yes Sir, Lieutenant!”
There was a moment’s pause then she asked, “Uh, what do you want to talk about?”
“Anything, just start talking and keep an eye on my suit readouts. Don’t let me fall asleep.”
She began hesitantly, “Oh, uh, okay. Maybe you can help me understand something. Lieutenant Hayes, the one doing nav solutions for the ninth convoy fleet, said he was disappointed with the nebula. I don’t understand why he would have said that. What do you think?”
Bob straightened up a little and replied, “It’s understandable. When they show nebulae or asteroid fields on vids or in games, they are always depicted in ways much more exciting than reality.”
“How so?” she asked.
“Well, they always show nebulae as these huge glowing gas clouds, and asteroid fields as clusters of rocks banging into one another.”
“Ah, I see. That’s not accurate at all,” she offered, “except a few cases of planetary rings and what not, that kind of environment is really rare.”
“Yeah,” Bob went on, “We were all briefed about it, but when the time comes and you jump into it and see maybe one rock, or at the very most three on sensors, it is a bummer. Pile on that most nebula, even when illuminated by a nearby star, would at most only provide the faintest green or pink tint to the visible spectrum for humans and I think you can see why his hopes didn’t match up with reality.”
“But, this nebula is actually pretty thick with gas and dust. It has some fascinating pockets of lower density implyi-”
“Let me stop you there,” Bob interrupted, “Human eyes don’t see what your sensors do. To them, it doesn’t look like much of anything.”
“Oh, Yeah, I suppose it isn’t really impressive with their visible wavelength when you put it that way.”
As they spoke, a faint flash of greenish light illuminated a relatively nearby asteroid.
“What was that?” Bob asked.
“Analyzing.”
A screen came up on the HUD and the Sister said, “Replaying sensor log now.”
The screen showed a seemingly blank image, then the clean silhouette of an asteroid came into sharp relief, then faded away.
Bob looked at the readings then said, “I don’t think that was a natural phenomenon.”
“Agreed,” she replied, “After looking at the spectrum of light we saw I would say odds of that would be very nearly zero. We wouldn’t have even detected it if the nebular gasses and dust didn’t reflect the light toward us. Compensating for the refraction and spectrum absorption of the local gasses, it was definitely a jump.”
“I am calling this one in,” Bob said, a new alertness clear in his voice, “How much will activating the QE COM reduce our jump capacitors?”
“We will lose approximately 2% jump charge per ten seconds of continuous communication with the power capabilities for this craft, Lieutenant,” she replied.
“Right, so keep it quick,” he said.
Activating the Quantum Entanglement Communicator, he said, “Fleet Command, this is Convoy Zero Six, We have a confirmed jump near us in the A4 nebula. Please inform us of any fleet activity in this area.”
“Request received Zero Six, stand by.”
There was a tense moment before the voice returned, “Negative fleet activity in your area. Fleet Command is redirecting assets to your location.”
A long moment passed before Bob said, “How long until we can jump?”
“This ship can jump in six minutes forty seconds. The convoy will be charged to jump in eighteen minutes, twenty-three seconds, Lieutenant.”
Bob considered that a moment then said, “These supplies need to get through. Get the fleet into a tight formation, and get it ready to jump as soon as possible. I will start the calculations. Also, warm up the planetary launch engines while you are at it.”
“Understood, Sir. Why the launch thrusters? They won’t be taking off from any planets in the middle of a nebula.”
Bob responded with eyes fixed on the controls, “Because they produce a huge amount of thrust. That may be useful in a tactical situation.”
Outside, flares of maneuvering thrusters burst to life across the convoy as the Sister followed her orders.
“Lieutenant?”
“Yes?”
“Why can’t the survivors just eat the supplies off of the captured Jergoon transport? There must be enough on it to keep them alive until the rest of the supply fleets are constructed.”
Bob hesitated in his calculations before responding, “Nobody told you? The supplies are laced with a mild poison. It’s not fatal immediately, but it builds up in the Treshian’s bodies faster than their systems can expel it. It pretty much guarantees that anyone getting a normal amount of food for their species dies if they get too weak. For those that stay strong, it will kill them not long after adulthood. If they were not being starved, many of them would have been dead already. We don’t know the long-term effects of it. When the admiral heard about it, he ordered the entire stockpile destroyed.”
The small hologram bristled with anger, “Why would they do something like that?”
Bob looked down at the little image and said, “The captured bridge officer from the transport said it was to offset the possibility of any groups gaining too much power over the others. They would get strong, take more food, and then die from it. It was supposed to keep things in balance, and apparently it has worked on many worlds.”
“They are monsters!” she seethed, “Put me in a ship, and I will wade through them as the embodiment of whatever god of death they fear.”
Bob’s antennae stood up in surprise, “Okay, easy there. I need you in the moment here. We could have company any minute now.”
“Yes, Sir. You get those jump coordinates plotted and I will make the jump.”
As they spoke, three FTL flashes illuminated the Nebula. The pale blue light of the FTL deceleration was filtered into a sickly green color. When the instruments locked on, they identified the new arrivals almost immediately.
In the tone of a professional soldier the Sister reported, “Sir, we have three Jergoon Cruisers on scopes. Armament seems consistent with mass driver weaponry. They have Gauss Cannons.”
Bob wasted no time, “Engage the Planetary Ascent Boosters on the transports. Activate my combat harness, vent the atmosphere and begin evasive maneuvers. I am going to try to finish these calculations.”
With a hiss, the combat harness on his suit shot out attachment lines to the inner hull locking points on the ship’s walls, floor, and ceiling. The sounds of the ship faded as the atmosphere was release into space.
Opening the QE-COM, Bob reported, “Fleet Command, this is Convoy Zero Six, reporting contact with three enemy combat cruisers at our location. We are requesting emergency fleet support.”
A voice snapped back over the QE-COM, “Message received, Convoy Zero Six. Fleet assets are en route. Hold on, help is coming.”
Bob strained against the high gravity acrobatics the Sister was putting their ship through. Despite the forces trying to flail him about, his arms never failed in inputting the jump coordinates for their little relief caravan.
“We have a problem,” he strained through the stresses being placed on his body, “The fleet needs to be in proper formation for my calculations to mean anything. Can you get all the ships in order by the time the fleet is ready to jump?”
“I will do my best, Lieutenant,” she responded with the same professional tone.
As she finished speaking, one of the transport ships erupted with debris and began spinning out of formation.
“Sir, they are targeting the transports. Reflected EM indicates they are doing intensive scans of the ships and likely their cargo.”
Bob, still straining against the forces being exerted on him from the emergency maneuvers, gasped, “And soon they will see…we are the only…manned ship.”
As they rolled, they saw plumes of light erupt from the cruisers and lance through the nebula toward their cargo ships on the sensors. Like the standard projectile weaponry in the Milky Way, the slugs fired by the enemy were effectively invisible to the naked eye. They were only visible now because of how they excited the gasses as they passed through.
“Two more convoy ships down, Lieutenant.”
Bob strained against the strains put on his body, “Keep up the evasive maneuvers!”
The cruisers engaged thrusters to maintain combat range with the convoy fleet. It apparently didn’t take long for them to discern that the one ship that was structurally different and making wild evasive maneuvers was the only occupied ship in the convoy. They began targeting the small marine landing craft with all their combined firepower.
The Sister rolled, accelerated, slowed, and evaded with the grace of a Prima Ballerina amid the hail of death being catapulted at her from the Jergoon capital ships.
Bob was straining to maintain consciousness during the nebular dance, but he would never complain. It was understood that the harder it was to stay conscious, the better the job the person at the helm was doing to keep you alive.
Her sensors were barely able to track the incoming projectiles. That meant she had only seconds from the time they were detected to make the appropriate moves to avoid them. In those moments, she was tracking projectiles, enemy positions, Bob’s life signs, fleet positions, and monitoring the QE-COM for any incoming transmissions. Though she was an artificial being, she never felt more alive than in this moment. This, combat, was what she was made for all those centuries ago.
She cast a tertiary thought to query the charge rate of the convoy ships. Activating the planetary ascent boosters was slowing the charge rate, but even with the increased output they were only eight minutes seventeen seconds out. She would have to make sure that her and the Lieutenant’s ship was in position the exact moment the rest of the fleet was ready to jump.
“Sir, they are focusing all their fire on our ship. I request permission to get some distance between us and the rest of the convoy to minimize collateral damage.”
A strained whisper was received from the mic in Bob’s helmet, “Granted.”
The way she rocketed out of formation could only be described as acrobatic. Soon, they were in clear space away from the cargo ships. The enemy cruisers, out of understanding or perhaps sheer frustration, continued focusing their fire on them.
A voice came over the QE-COM, “This is Captain Fernández of the Corvette Wolf. Keep it up, Lieutenant, we are coming and Hell is following close behind.”
She did as ordered, and the fury of the Jergoon proved impotent against her skill.
Then, in a moment, all sensors indicated no further incoming fire. The Goon’s had stopped their assault.
She opened the coms and spoke into the void, “Giving up so soon you evil pieces of-“
“Shh!” Bob said, “Maintain…discipline! Probably…coordinating… area attack.”
The thought had not occurred to her, and she asked, “Why would you think that, Sir?”
“What…I would…do. Orient…ship…smallest…target.”
Understanding, she faced the ship directly away from their pursuers. No sooner had she done so than she detected a veritable wall of projectiles coming toward them.
She barely had time to say, “Brace for impact!” before their ship was slammed by two of the rounds from the Gauss Cannons of their pursuers.
Silent in the evacuated atmosphere of the landing craft, each of the shells tore holes through the hull both on impact and exit. To the credit of the engineers, the sturdy little craft didn’t break apart.
Systems went down, evasive maneuvers stopped, and the ship drifted in space amid a small cloud of its own debris.
The primary systems on the ship were down, and the Sister found herself in the dark with only sparse inputs. She had no coms with Bob, no access to sensors, no control over the ship, and no idea what the Jergoon ships were doing now. She raced through the still functioning systems and rerouted her consciousness through the secondary and tertiary data pathways of the ship to try and assess the problem.
She found success in reestablishing the link with internal sensors. At least now she could get a look at what was going on inside the ship. What met her sensors invoked a feeling of dread she had not felt since the Creators were killed centuries ago.
There was a matched pair of holes in the aft bay. Packages of supplies floated lazily around mingling with debris from the impacts. That shot hadn’t hit anything important, so why were so many of the systems down on the ship right now?
Panicking, she shifted her attention to the main cockpit and her fears were confirmed. There was a massive hole in the central command console. That was nothing to her in this moment, however.
Blue blood floated around the cockpit as Bob hung limp in the command harness. His three legs on the left side had been sheared off just below where they articulated to his main body. Blue blood was spraying lazily from the wounds and splattering against the inside of the cockpit. Seeing her commanding officer, her friend, and a Creator there brought all her efforts into sharp focus. Assuming he was still alive, she had to save Bob.
She activated her Emergency Processor Overclocking. It was like the Sister’s version of adrenaline. It was dangerous, and probably going to damage her permanently, but Bob’s life was at stake.
She exploded her consciousness through the ship trying to find any pathways or linkages that still functioned. Following those that did, she then followed every possible avenue until every available connection had been mapped, and the damage identified. The fractions of a second she took to accomplish this seemed like an eternity to her EPO enhanced processes. She looked in vain to find a pathway to Bob’s suit interface. It must have been damaged. She compiled her ship report in just under a second.
[SYSTEM STATUS]
[FTL DRIVE] - OFFLINE
[QE-COM] - OFFLINE
[PRIMARY COMMUNICATIONS] - 56% OPERATIONAL
[SECONDARY COMMUNICATIONS] - 94% OPERATIONAL
[PRIMARY SENSORS] - 83% OPERATIONAL
[MANUVERING THRUSTERS] - 16% OPERATIONAL
[PRIMARY ENGINES] - OFFLINE
[POWER CORE] - 8% OPERATIONAL
[LIFE SUPPORT] - OFFLINE
The cold reality of the situation hit her. There was nothing she could do. She disengaged EPO and stared helplessly at the image of her friend bleeding out. She cursed herself for not having even a rudimentary body to try and administer First Aid. To make matters worse, it looked like the automatic systems in the suit that could possibly help weren’t doing anything.
As she fought off despair, a massive green flash washed over everything in the cockpit. Diverting power to external sensors, she saw a new ship had arrived. It was the brilliant white form of the Corvette Wolf.
Hope had entered the Nebula.
Within seconds, she detected a cloud of nanites flooding from the ship as it interposed its relatively trivial mass between the pursuers and their prey. Sparks of lightning erupted from the hull to quickly form into smooth channels of glowing plasma as a bright kinetic barrier formed around the newcomer.
The cruisers redirected their interest toward the new threat, and opened fire.
The shield flashed as the hypervelocity ferrous slugs ripped through the outer layers of nanites and proceeded to slam into the hull of the smaller craft. The armor held, but each impact ripped a gouge into the clean white hull of the ship. Had the shields not slowed them, any of the shots would have pierced deep holes into the Corvette.
The Apex ship opened a channel, “This is the Wolf. Convoy Zero Six, what is your status?”
She collected herself, sent the damage report on a sub channel, and responded, “The Lieutenant is injured and requires immediate medical attention.”
“Understood. You are ordered to maintain position behind us.”
“Affirmative, Zero Six out.”
As she used what little power supply the ship had to get directly behind their defenders. Once she was in position, she redirected power to communications. Linking with the approaching convoy fleet, she gathered the sensor readings from those craft. None of them individually had the same sensor power of the ship she was on, but together they made a quite effective short range sensor array.
As she watched, tinted green lances of the Wolf’s SPL batteries flared to life forming blinding trails of energy through the Nebula. The trails were far brighter than anything she had ever seen that weapon produce in the past. They reached out with violent intent, but stopped short of their intended targets.
Low density shockwaves emanated through the nebula from the fading lances of energy. In moments, she had analyzed what the problem was. When these weapons had been used in the past, the amount of matter in the void they interacted with was perhaps one to three atoms per square centimeter. Now, it was easily two hundred and fifty times as much. The projectiles were being eroded away before they could reach their targets.
If they were going to be of any use at all they would need to get a lot closer. That was not a good idea against three cruisers with Gauss Cannons.
The Wolf apparently came to the same conclusion. As the Sister watched, heavy laser batteries flared to life and searing beams of energy lanced out to slash furrows into the armor of one of the cruisers. The nebula and gasses reflected small amounts of the beams into the visible spectrum, so for the first time, the lasers of the Human ships were visible.
The searing light found its mark, and deep holes were burned into one of the Jergoon capital ships. Lit on fire from the heat, atmospheric gasses flared out of the wounds to form streamers of fire in the nebula only to fade as the damage control systems sealed them off. Even when the fire stopped, glowing hot metal marked the injuries.
As the edges of the hits faded, she watched five more of the magnetically propelled slugs from the Cruisers slam into the hull of the Corvette. At least one of them penetrated the armor and reached the inner hull.
She diverted her attention to the internal sensors to check on Bob. A new sense of frustration and anger welled up inside her as she saw his still body hanging limply against what combat harness restraints remained. The blood had slowed from the three stumps of his former legs. She hoped that meant he was still alive and only unconscious. The other option was that his blood supply was running out and there simply wasn’t any left to bleed out. She felt completely helpless. Bob was so close, but there was nothing she could do for him.
She cursed herself for not having a body.
Just then, she received a tight beam communication from the captain of the Wolf, “Can you move to cover behind one of the nearby asteroids? At the rate we’re losing shield nanites this conflict is going to be over before reinforcements arrive. We would take a shot at them with the FTL torpedoes, but we can’t divert sufficient power to launchers while maintaining this defensive posture.”
“Understood, Wolf. I will evaluate the available options and make every attempt to do so.”
Her mind raced as she tried to figure out some way to get the ship out of danger so the Apex could be free to move or fire back with something bigger. Her visual sensors surveyed the cockpit a second time and she was again confronted by her own limitations. Without a functioning physical form to manipulate her environment, she was helpless to attempt repairs on any of the damaged systems.
Then it dawned on her. She was thinking too small. She did have a body.
Se diverted the entire remainder of the power systems to the primary and secondary communications arrays and reached out to all the ships in the convoy. Forty seven cargo ships were standing by. She was even able to feel the three that had been hit and fell out of formation. They were damaged, but the majority of their systems were intact. Bob had even prepared the fleet in a tight defensive pattern for her, that brilliant blue bug.
The Jergoon cruisers, possibly seeing the Wolf was unwilling to leave its charge exposed, opened fire with everything they had.
Each of the enemy cruisers opened launch tubes and fired four ship-killing torpedoes at the furiously defending corvette. Huge plumes of fire and exhaust gasses flared as the fifty meter long missiles locked on to the Apex craft and accelerated.
Along with the missiles, the secondary and tertiary batteries of the cruisers opened fire.
The quiet nebula that only minutes ago was anciently serene was now filled with violence.
All the laser batteries of the Wolf redirected to the incoming wave of ship-killers. Beams intercepted each of the missiles. The tips of the huge projectiles glowed white hot, but kept coming. The Apex ship altered tactics and diverted all its efforts toward the leading missile. Molten metal sloughed off and trailed behind the missile like a fiery comet until the armored layers were penetrated. A massive explosion concussed the nebula in an expanding sphere of fire.
Without hesitation, the beams of light acquired the next closest missile and poured their combined destructive force into it. The radiators on the Corvette flared to white hot as they struggled to keep up with the sustained laser fire.
Another sphere of fire expanded out into the nebula.
As the next missile was targeted, a wave of incoming Gauss slugs, some from the main batteries and some from the secondary and tertiary armaments pierced the shields and slammed deep furrows into hull. The shields were losing effectiveness as the sustained barrage of fire destroyed millions of nanites per second.
A third sphere of fire blossomed and faded out.
Emergency coolant systems began venting superheated gasses away from the ship as the lasers fired continuously at the advancing threats.
Another missile erupted in a pyrotechnic display that would be considered beautiful in most other contexts.
Some of the laser projectors got hit and blinked several times before going dark. It was clear to both sides what was going to happen. The Jergoon had captured the initiative in the conflict by forcing the Wolf to do on the defensive early and conditions in the nebula had nullified the primary weaponry of the Apex craft. The missiles were little more than the Goons spitting in the face of their enemy.
Eight missiles were still bearing down on the increasingly hindered Corvette. With diminished defensive resources, there was no hope of destroying all the missiles in time. Still, it fought.
Two more missiles were destroyed before the primary laser capacitors failed and the Wolf was left naked of defenses capable of stopping the incoming missiles. They were as good as dead.
The Sister, however, had other plans.
From the side, a group of eight freighters plummeted through space toward the incoming missiles. They slammed forward through the nebula, faint shockwaves trailing off of them as long tails of fire reached out with the full burn of their planetary ascent thrusters. With mathematical precision, the freighters each found their mark and smashed into their respective missiles, creating a cacophony of light and fire. Shockwaves pressed outward into the nebula to eventually fade as the energy dispersed.
It took all the ships a moment for their sensors to adjust and compensate for the massive energy release the freighters engines produced. The energy combined with the nebular gasses and dust and disrupted sensors for all the ships of both sides. Frustrated, she processed the incoming sensor data and sent updates to her little fleet to compensate. Soon, targeting systems were recalibrated and she could see again.
The other ships in the fleet were still blind. She took advantage of the lull in accurate fire and directed two of the freighters to come up alongside, pinch the marine landing craft between them, and carry it away toward a nearby asteroid for cover.
The Sister sent a tight beam communication to the injured corvette, “Wolf, this is Convoy Zero Six. Get out of here! The convoy is not as valuable as you are. We are in a galaxy far away from home and you and the Wolf crew is irreplaceable. Please, save yourselves.”
“Affirmative, Zero Six. We are exiting the combat area.”
As the transmission of their agreement came in, her hope the Apex captain would have something else up his sleeve died. She was going to die. Bob was going to die. They had failed. She had failed. At least she was able to help save the Wolf.
The voice of the Captain came over the coms again, “I am giving you new orders on a sub-channel. Stay alive. Wolf out.”
As the coded data packet with the new orders came in, understanding struck her. She should have known; the Apex never abandons anyone to hopelessness.
A FTL flash indicated the retreat of the Wolf. Moments later, the clouds of blind fired projectiles tearing through the nebula in that direction ceased. The Jergoon had apparently been able to successfully recalibrate their sensors at least enough to detect the FTL energy burst.
There were a few moments as the Jergoon tried in vain to detect her. As they tried, she reached out and directed the remaining freighters to spread out. Hopefully, their drive signatures would distract the Jergoon as they presented multiple targets. In moments, she watched through the combined eyes of her fleet as the three cruisers turned toward the asteroid she was hiding behind. In moments, the rock began shuddering as impacts of Gauss Cannon fire began the process of reducing it to gravel. Her gambit had failed.
Her options were limited. With the damage to the ship there was no chance of evading once the asteroid was gone. The moment she broke cover, she would be little more than target practice for the looming cruisers. The thought of death didn’t bother her too much, but she had orders, and Bob’s life was on the line, assuming he was even still alive.
Her options were limited, but it was becoming increasingly clear that she couldn’t stay where she was. Racing through tactical options, she saw scenario after scenario end in failure and death for Bob and her. She needed more options. She spared a few hundredths of a second to despair and wish the Jergoon were still blinded from the earlier explosions. Then she could really expand her options.
That was it. She could blind them again.
She maneuvered the two cargo ships to direct her away from the enemy ships and began full boost away. Behind her, a layer of freighters formed a screen behind them to shield them from incoming projectiles.
As she was about to leave the shadow of the rapidly disintegrating asteroid, she overloaded the FTL drive of one of the freighters between her and the Cruisers. The resulting energy flash and resulting energized state of the nebula caused her to go blind again, but she knew it did the same to the Jergoon who were after her.
She hit the boosters of the two accompanying freighters. The little marine landing craft’s hull shuddered under the strain of the two craft propelling it through the nebula. If she miscalculated anything, the two large craft would crush the ship she was in like an empty soda can.
She had been expecting the energy burst and she knew how large it would be based on the charge level of the Freighter’s capacitors. That gave her a significant advantage over the Jergoon officers attempting to compensate for the changes in nebular energy levels.
Soon after she pulled away from the asteroid, it fractured and broke apart into a cloud of expanding debris. They kept firing at it, confirming to her that the detonated freighter had had its intended effect. She calculated the expected time it would take for them to recalibrate their sensors and, just as they began reorienting their position to pursue her, she detonated another two freighters and immediately adjusted her trajectory.
When she had her sensors back again, she detected a cloud of projectiles that had just passed through where her previous trajectory would have taken her. These Goons were good, but she was better.
The exchange continued, with her detonating freighters as needed to disrupt their sensors. Though she was managing fairly well for the time being, she knew It wouldn’t last. The supply of freighters was beginning to dwindle, and the Jergoon, to their credit, began targeting them visually. The limited evasion capabilities of the cargo ships made them easy prey for the gunners of the Cruisers. She had thought of ramming them when they were blinded, but with biological eyes scanning the space around them, that possibility did not have a high probability of success.
When the convoy was down to ten freighters plus the two directing her craft, she checked the elapsed time of the encounter and detonated half of the remaining ten ships positioned around the cruisers. She took the time afforded by the resulting disruption to get behind a nearby asteroid with the last five freighters and waited. She drew her extended body into a tight formation behind the asteroid. With any luck, it would help them hide for that much longer.
That large of an energy burst would need to dissipate some before the sensors could even attempt to get a fix on the Jergoon ships again.
As she went through the digital version of shaking her head to clear her senses, what she saw made her circuits nearly freeze up. The Jergoon had anticipated her moving behind the asteroid and had made a micro-jump to get to the far side of it when she was blinded. She knew that doing anything at this point would only hasten her detection, so she waited.
The Jergoon transmitted into the nebula, “This was a welcome diversion, meat. In moments, if I am correct, we will see you hiding in your little crippled ship behind the asteroid. Soon after, you will be nothing more than a floating cloud of scrap in space. You put up a good chase, but now the hunt is over.”
He was right. There was nothing she could do at this point.
She responded, “I have fulfilled my orders, and if today is the day I die, so be it.”
“You are to be commended for saving the ship of the White Fleet, and I do so without hesitation. I will lift a glass to your memory tonight as we toast our victory. What is your name?”
“I and most of my Sisters have not been given the honor of a name. I am of those you call the Forbidden.”
“What?” the Jergoon’s voice hissed over the coms, “I thought you to be creatures of myth. The honor that will be mine among the clans for killing you will be great indeed! If only you had a name to add to the chronicle of my vanquished foes.”
“I die with the knowledge that I have followed my orders to the last.”
The Jergoon Captain’s voice responded with a hint of amused scorn in his voice, “Just so I don’t wonder for the rest of my days, what orders were those?”
“To keep you occupied until the fleet arrived. Keeping you blind to their approach was my idea though.”
Captain Connolly’s voice interjected into the channel, “So you don’t die in ignorance, her name is Wolf. All ships, fire at will.”
“WHA-“
The Jergoon’s transmission was cut short as heavy laser blasts from the Redeemer, Salvation, and the bulk of the Andromeda Expedition Fleet sliced into the three Jergoon cruisers. Fire belched out of the open wounds, and they began to break apart. In moments, they were little more than scrap metal.
“This is Convoy Zero Six, requesting immediate medical evacuation for-“
She was cut off as her sensors resolved on the massive form of the Redeemer maneuvering toward the ship, cargo bay open and ready to scoop them up.
The Redeemer whispered to her in the low band frequencies, “Don’t worry, little Wolf, I am here. What can be done for the Lieutenant, will be. You did very well.”
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Connolly stood in the broken interior of the little Marine landing craft. Blue blood coated the walls, floor, and ceiling with random splatters. Looking at it, his breathing got very shallow and slow. He looked away toward the back of the craft and took a deep breath in and held it. His face turned a little red, and he exhaled and exited the back cargo doors.
It wasn’t long before he stepped into the bridge, “Get me a channel to the convoy fleets immediately.”
“Aye aye, Sir,” A voice came back almost immediately, “QE-COM to Spacelift fleet open, Admiral.”
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
As the fourth cargo ship landed in the children’s camp, one of the much younger inhabitants approached Lieutenant Hayes and tugged at his arm weakly.
The physical strain of the spacelift was taking its toll on all the navigators. He looked at her with bloodshot, tired eyes.
“Yes, sweetheart? What can I do for you?”
“Where’s the friendly blue bug? He said he would bring food by sundown. The food is here, but he isn’t. He promised to come back. Where is he?”
Hayes looked at her and tried hard to choose his words, “Oh, honey, Bob couldn’t make it. His copilot told us of his promise, so we came to make sure it wasn’t broken.”
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The ceremony was small, but not for any fault of the crew. Everybody on board wanted to be there, but not everyone could fit into the launch bay. The Admiral stepped forward and began.
“It is oftentimes the duty of a commanding officer to preside over ceremonies involving the loss of crew. It is one of the most difficult things we have to do in the course of our duties. Being that we are two and a half million light years from our home galaxy, we feel such losses all the more. Our distance from the stars that nurtured us unites us in a common situation. It makes us something more. We are, out here in the deep black, transformed from a crew into a family. When the number of your family is altered, it is a singular event. That is why today’s ceremony is all the more important to us.”
He took a moment of silence to look over the assembled people in the bay, and continued, “Today, we have the momentous joy of adding to our family.”
Stepping from behind the podium, he approached the holographic representation she chose for herself and said, “You are the second of the electronic persons we have had the pleasure of adding to our ranks, and it is our sincere hope that many will follow you.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” was all she could get out through her excitement.
“Oh, don’t thank me, thank them,” he said, waving his hand across the collected personnel in the bay, “They were so vehement in their request for your assignment to their ship that I worried they may mutiny if I said no.”
A murmur of laughter rumbled through the hall.
He continued, “I must admit, I was taken aback at the insistence of Captain Fernández regarding your assignment to his ship. When I asked him why he was so sure he wanted you, he recounted to me the last things you said before requesting the Wolf withdraw from combat. You said, ‘We are in a galaxy far away from home.’ That, ‘We,’ was all he needed to hear to determine then and there that if you made it out of that fight, he wanted you. When he related his thoughts to the crew, they all responded with the same vehemence that you join their family.”
“Plus,” Captain Fernández chimed in, “I’ve never seen anyone dance a tango through enemy fire like that.”
Laughter rose in the room and Connolly smiled at her and asked, “Are you ready to accept the responsibilities and privileges of joining the Andromeda Fleet Expedition?”
She smiled and said, “I’ve never been more ready for anything, Admiral.”
The Admiral saluted, and the room joined him, “Then by the authority granted me by the Galactic Council and Fleet Command, I hereby name you, Wolf.”
She saluted back, and when the Admiral dropped his arm the room erupted into cheers and applause.
After the ceremony, members of the crew and other well-wishers approached her on the stage and gave their congratulations. One, in particular, she had hoped for. She saw him being rolled up to the stage on a newly fabricated wheelchair. Intravenous fluid bags and other medical equipment was attached to him, and he was barely able to lift his head.
She looked down at him and said, “Thank you so much for coming, Bob. You didn’t have to. I know you are in a lot of pain.”
Bob moved his head weakly and said quietly, “I wouldn’t miss it. Also, I haven’t had a chance yet to say thank you for saving my life.”
She smiled down at him and said, “Don’t be silly. That’s what family is for.”