Chapter Two
Nash, followed by McBride and Davenport, stepped through the doors of the Tactical Operations Center to see Major Trace Jordan pacing around the conference table. Upon their entrance, the portly, gray haired engineer crossed his arms and stared.
“Colonel, I got too much goin’ on to sit in a meetin’.”
“Take it easy, Chief,” Nash replied. “I need senior staff briefed on our condition. Have a seat.”
Jordan huffed and dropped into a chair next to McBride. He crossed his arms and began tapping out an agitated rhythm with his foot.
Davenport took a seat opposite Jordan. “No worries, mate,” he said to the engineer. “We’ll finish in time for dinnies.”
“Fuckin’ clown,” Jordan mumbled.
Nash shook his head and sat at the head of the table. “Where’s the Doc?”
The door to the Tactical Operations Center slid open with an industrial hum and Doctor Talhoo shuffled in. A native of the planet Minerva Seven, the doctor was the only non-human aboard. From a distance he could pass for a human of Latino decent. However, up close the doctor’s oversize cat-like eyes and long fingers with fleshy tips gave away his alien heritage.
“My apologies, Colonel,” the doctor said in his lisping voice. “But I find it difficult to leave sickbay when I have so many patients.”
Nash looked up from the table. “It’s okay, Doc; I’m going to keep this as short as possible because we all have a lot of work to get done. Why don’t you start; what’s our medical status?”
Talhoo took a deep breath. “Six dead. Four stationed in the engine room sustained third degree burns over a large portion of their bodies.”
“They were caught in a huge arc when the transformers went out,” Jordan added.
“Luckily,” Talhoo continued, “most of the other injuries are pretty minor. A few concussions, a couple of broken bones. Lots of bruises and abrasions. There’s no damage in sick bay, so all of my equipment and instruments are fully functional. I see no reason why all of my patients won’t make a full recovery.”
“We’re dammed lucky we got by with such light injuries,” Nash said quietly. His eyes shifted to Jordan. “Chief, how bad off is the Trident?”
The engineer leaned back in his chair and ran his hands through his steel-gray hair. “Ain’t gonna lie to you, Colonel; we’re in a heap o' trouble. I’ll get auxiliary power and the scillion drive up and runnin’ in a few hours. But long range communications are down for a long time, maybe permanently. We’re still inspectin’ hull damage. Emergency bulkheads sealed off the compartments with hull breaches, but there’s still an atmospheric leak somewhere. Hope to find it when we inspect the hull. Also lost a bunch of atmospheric scrubbers. We’ve got a crew of three-fifty, plus four hundred colonists. I reckon those remainin’ scrubbers are gonna get overloaded real quick.”
Nash nodded his head. “Mr. Davenport, have you triangulated our position?”
“Way off course, Colonel.” Davenport keyed a panel next to his seat and a 3-D image of the local star systems appeared above the table. He pointed to a blinking dot. “We’re here. Over here is our plotted course to Alpha Ceres.”
Dara McBride whistled. “We’re way out there, aren’t we lads?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Davenport replied. “Assuming top speed with scillion drive, we’re looking at over six months to get to the nearest Coalition Outpost or friendly planet.”
“No way,” the engineer said, shaking his head. “We won’t last that long.”
Davenport pointed his index finger at Jordan and grinned. “For once, I agree with the chunky koala.”
The engineer didn’t say a word, but simply stared at the grinning Davenport.
Paying no attention to the angered engineer, the research officer turned toward Nash. “Colonel, what is a bigger problem than the distance is where we are. We are far off from any of the normal routes of travel. It is highly unlikely that any friendly vessel is going to discover us or receive our short range communication signals. We are effectively on our own.”
Nash sat quietly, looking at the table, tapping his index finger on the surface. Without looking up, he said, “We’re going to have to abandon the Trident.”
An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Finally, McBride spoke.
“There’s got to be an alternative.”
“If anyone has a better idea, now is the time to speak up.” He scanned his officers, but none spoke. “I don’t like the idea, but I don’t think we have a choice.”
“You don’t think the Coalition will send a search mission?” McBride asked.
“I’m sure they will. But when? And we’re way off from our last reported position. Could take months to find us. Or maybe never. I’m not willing to risk the lives of everyone on board on the chance that we may be found.”
Doctor Talhoo sagged in his chair while forming a triangle with his hands. “I realize I am only the ship’s doctor and do not know much about the systems on this ship, but I think we are at the point where our primary focus needs to be on the survival of as many of the crew and passengers as possible.”
“The doctor is right,” McBride said, curly hair shaking as she bobbed her head.
“Mr. Davenport, are there any habitable planets close by?”
“Right here,” Davenport said as he pointed to the 3-D map. “I think this is our best bet. Running scillion drive at seventy-five percent, we can make it in five days.”
Colonel Nash looked at the Chief Engineer. “Is that doable?”
“Yessir. It’ll be tight on the fuel supply, air supply too, but I think the scrubbers should hold out that long.”
“Do whatever you can to extend the fuel and air supply. I know we’re transporting an oxygen generator to the colonies; use that to extend our air supply if necessary. Drain fuel from the shuttlecraft if you have to… whatever it takes.”
“Yessir.”
Nash reclined in his chair. “So what do we know about this planet?”
“Unfortunately, not much. The data is based on the surveys of an unmanned probe about ten years ago. The surveys refer to the planet as Aria Prime. It is three percent larger than Earth, with similar atmospheric makeup. About sixty five percent is covered in water, with two major oceans. Weather extremes are comparable to Earth as well.”
“Inhabitants?”
“The planet is lightly populated with a humanoid life form. We really don’t know anything about them. We do have probe images showing structures and villages that would suggest a technology equivalent to the medieval period.”
“No chance of gettin’ them to fix the ship,” Trace Jordan murmured.
“Not likely,” Nash said with a tired smile. “Let’s just hope they’re friendly. Alright, let’s get underway and make as many repairs along the way as possible. Drop a distress buoy to transmit our position in case a ship comes close.”
Nods of agreement came from Davenport, McBride, and Talhoo. Trace Jordan simply stared at Nash through narrowed eyes.
Nash rubbed his chin. “Dismissed. Major McBride, Chief, wait here a moment.” After the other officers had left, he turned to his First Officer and said, “Dara, go get the leader of the colonists for me. What was his name again?”
“Myron Decker.”
“That’s it—thanks.”
“On my way, Colonel.”
After McBride left the room, Nash looked at Trace Jordan, who was still sitting in his seat, tapping his Academy ring on the table. Jordan didn’t say anything, but continued to stare at Nash. The pupils of his eyes flared as if a camera flash had caught him by surprise, while the deep fissures of his forehead and ruddy color of his skin expressed his emotions all too well.
“Speak your piece, Chief.”
Jordan drew a deep breath. “Just had to stand and fight, didn’t you?”
“There were only two of them.”
“Yeah, and we got our asses handed to us.” Jordan stood, put his hands on his h
ips, and looked at the ceiling. “Always the fuckin’ cowboy.”
“Hey! When have we not been able to defeat two Karakan battleships? That should’ve been a piece of cake.”
Jordan shot a look at his colonel, lips drawn back in a snarl. “Well it wasn’t, was it? The hero of Salus Centauri had to get his revenge on the Karakan!”
Nash’s nostrils flared. “You and I both agreed a long time ago never to discus Salus. Ever. It was war, and I did what I had to do to complete the mission.”
Jordan crossed his arms and scowled. “And I remember standin’ in the hanger bay of the Excalibur, watchin’ you step out of the shuttle, alone and covered with blood, swearing that you would one day have your revenge on the Karakan.”
“That’s right, I said that. I lost everyone in my command. And for the past twelve years I’ve had the death of forty-four crewmen on my conscience. But that has nothing to do with our current predicament.”
“Whatever.” The engineer closed his eyes and took a deep breath, once again turning his head toward the ceiling. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? To me, to everyone aboard this ship?”
Nash jumped to his feet and leaned over the table. “You think that hasn’t been on my mind! You think that isn’t gnawing at me ever since the attack?” Red faced, Nash pointed toward the door with an angry thrust. “You think I’m not worried about what will happen to the crew or those colonists out there?”
Jordan stood silently, still staring at the ceiling. He exhaled a great breath, and then turned to look at Nash. “Sorry, Colonel. It’s just… well, I had my retirement forms all filled out. I was gonna send 'em in once we got home. Had my eye on a place in the Tennessee backcountry.”
“Look, I’m sorry you’re retirement plans are botched. Hell, I have no desire to spend the rest of my life on Aria Prime. But we’re officers of the Pegasus Stellar Coalition and we have a duty to the crew and the colonists aboard this ship.”
The engineer gritted his teeth. He forced his hands behind his back and stepped closer to Nash. “You think we’ll ever make it home?”
“I don’t know,” Nash said with a shake of the head. “The way I see it, the first priority is survival, the second is to get home. Do you think you’ll get the long range communications up?”
“Can’t say. Definitely not before we reach Aria Prime. After we’re down on the planet, I may be able to fix it by salvagin’ parts from other systems. The problem’s gonna be power.”
“What do you mean?”
“To make the repairs, I’m gonna need a way to generate power. Scillion engines are out; we’ll be almost out of fuel by the time we land.”
“Could you salvage some of the solar panels from the probes we’re carrying?”
“Sure. But those panels won’t generate enough power to suit our needs. Hell, I bet that won’t even be enough to keep refrigeration running.”
Nash scratched his head. “Do we need to conserve electrical power now?”
“No. Scillion drive produces a surplus of electrical power while at cruising speed. We’ll want to make sure every battery is fully charged before we get to Aria Prime, but even that stored energy won’t last.”
“Well, we’ll just have to make do. Once on the planet, we look at the resources available and go from there. We may be lucky and find a place where we can set up for hydro-power or tap some geothermal energy.”
“Wishful thinking,” Jordan said flatly. Nash nodded.
“Speaking of probes, I’d like to launch one into orbit when we reach Aria Prime so we can learn more about the planet.”
“Might be best to launch two, just in case one fails.”
“That’s good thinking.”
“Well, I’ve got a lot to do, sir.”
Nash nodded and watched as Jordan exited the room.
As soon as he was alone, Nash slumped into his chair and rubbed his forehead. This was not what he had in mind for an easy transport of colonists. If only he had more warning when the Karakan had attacked. Perhaps if he had ran at once instead of trying to fight them off….
No, he told himself. There would be no second guessing. What’s done is done, and there’s no rewinding the clock. The only logical action was to move forward; war had taught him that. Every defeat must be looked at as an opportunity, and one must forge ahead by any means necessary.
Not enough power for refrigeration. Nash thought for a moment about the implications of what the Chief had just said. All of their systems, all of their technology was dependent on electrical power. What’s more, since electrical power was needed to access the ship’s library, they wouldn’t even have the capability to research old methods of doing things. Clearly, making sure that power was available to access the library would be a priority.
He was just finishing reviewing the status of their provisions when McBride arrived with Myron Decker. He was a short, heavy man of perhaps forty-five, with thinning black hair and gray eyes. Nash stood and held out his hand.
“Mr. Decker, please sit down.”
Both Decker and McBride took seats at the table.
“I’m assuming that Major McBride filled you in our status?”
Decker nodded. “She did. Says we’re going to some place called Aria Prime ‘cause we’re in too bad of shape to get anyplace else.”
“That pretty much sums it up,” Nash replied.
“What the hell kind of ship you running here? We’re supposed to be going to Alpha Ceres!”
“I know where we were supposed to go, Mr. Decker. Unfortunately, the Karakan decided differently.”
“I thought those Karakan ships are no match for our cruisers?”
“Normally, I’d agree with you. The battleships we encountered carried better arms than I have ever seen. Anyway, that’s immaterial now. Our only concern now is survival.”
Decker rubbed his hand across the table. “I guess you’re right. But damn it, my people aren’t going to be happy about it.”
“I’m not happy either. But the only way we are going to survive is if we work together.”
“Ok. What do you need from me?”
Nash relaxed back in his chair. “For starters, talk to the rest of the colonists about what has happened. I’m sure there’s going to be some pretty ticked off people.”
“You can count on that.”
“Well, you know them better than I and will have better success relating to them.”
“What else you need?”
“I was just reviewing our supplies, and between emergency rations and normal provisions, we have enough food for about a year. So we’re going to need to farm, hunt, fish, you name it, to produce food. We can use the ship as temporary shelter, but we’ll eventually want something more permanent.” Especially when they find out we can’t spare power for heating and cooling, Nash thought.
“Look, Colonel, we’re not the first wave of colonists to head for Alpha Ceres, so we don’t have any Daniel Boone types. Sure, we have some craftsmen among us, but there are bankers, lawyers, teachers… people with skills that will do absolutely nothing to help us survive.”
“Then those who do have skills will teach those of us who don’t. Everyone will have to pitch in, or we won’t make it. It’s as simple as that.”
“I see your point. I’ll do what I can to get everyone to cooperate.”
“Good. There's also the question of leadership.”
“What do you mean?”
“The last thing I want is any sort of Coalition-versus-colonist conflict. I know my crew will follow my orders, but I don’t want your people to see me as some petty dictator. Once we step off this ship, we need the colonists to have an active voice in how things are going to be run. There will be less than one thousand of us, so I think something akin to a town council will work. We need something where the citizens' voices will be heard.”
Decker scratched his head. “A town council might work. But I think you should have a permanent seat on the council.”
>
“Why?”
“Well, the way I see it, you represent the military. The rest of the council will represent the people.”
“Sir,” McBride interrupted. Both the colonel and Decker looked at her.
“Sir, that sounds fine once we are established, but it may be wise for you to take leadership for the first few weeks. The crew will look to you for leadership, and it will likely take some time to get organized.”
“I think she’s got a good point,” Decker added.
“Alright, that sounds fair. But I want civilian leadership ASAP. Like I said, I don’t want to be perceived as a dictator.” Nash pointed his index finger at Decker and continued. “Now you just need to sell it to your people.”
“I’m a third generation salesman,” Decker said with a smile. “Not a problem.”
Nash laughed and held out his hand which Decker shook vigorously.