by Patricia Stewart | Jun 9, 2011 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
“That’s the largest Stanford Torus habitat I’ve ever seen,” stated Commander Strohm, the Endeavor’s science officer. “The major diameter of the Ring must be over twenty kilometers. But it appears to be abandoned, Captain. It’s no longer rotating, and I’m not picking up any artificial electromagnetic radiation. Permission to take a shuttlecraft over and look around?”
The captain nodded. “Affirmative, Ms. Strohm. But, take a cadet with you. It’ll be good training.”
****
An hour later, the shuttlecraft attached a universal docking station to the exterior side-surface of the Ring. Commander Strohm drifted over to the equipment locker and removed two EVA suits and handed one to Cadet DiGoff. “The sensors say the air inside the Ring is breathable, Ms. DiGoff. However, since he Ring isn’t rotating, there isn’t any gravity effect, so we need to wear these suits in order to maneuver around in there.”
After donning their suits, they opened the hatch and propelled themselves into the Ring. Once on the inside, they found themselves surrounded by dense vegetation. They plowed through a hundred meters of leafy growth before popping into a large open area. Approximately a kilometer to their right was the large transparent window on the inboard side of the Ring. Sunlight reflecting off the secondary mirrors filled the interior on the Ring with soft red-orange light. To their left, was the outboard side of the Ring. It was covered with dilapidated buildings that had been overtaken by twisting vines. Looking straight ahead, the tube-like length of the Ring arched away until it disappeared behind the inboard wall of windows. Then, suddenly, it got dark, like a rain cloud passed overhead, only there were no clouds. The women looked toward the hub to see a dense flock of animals flying toward them in tight formation. “They don’t look very friendly,” commented Commander Strohm. “We better head back to the shuttle.”
Both women spun around and hit their thrusters. Seconds later, they were overtaken by animals that resembled flying stingrays. They had a wingspan of almost a meter, with three claw-like talons on the tips of their elongated pectoral fins. On their underbellies, they had a human size mouth with rows of serrated shark-like teeth. The stingrays swarmed the women as they reached the canopy of vegetation, piercing their talons through the spacesuits of the two fleeing humans. Half a dozen stingrays were clinging to each of them as they shot through the hatch and crashed into the far wall of the shuttlecraft. A dozen more stingrays followed them in.
“Quickly,” ordered Strohm, “close the hatch.” Strohm fought her way to the cockpit, thanking God that she had left the engines idling. She vectored the thrust “down”, and pegged the throttle. As the shuttlecraft accelerated to 0.8g, the stingrays dropped to the deck, flapping helplessly as they fell.
“Dammit,” said DiGoff as she forcefully pried a struggling stingray from her arm. “I thought we were a goner. What did you do to them?”
“Simple physics,” replied Strohm. “They obviously evolved to fly in a weightless environment, so I reasoned that they wouldn’t have the strength to fly in the simulated gravity caused by our acceleration.”
“Well, that worked a hell of lot better than my plan of flailing around and screaming ‘get off of me’. What should we do with them, Ma’am?”
“Let’s lock them into the bathroom. We’ll let the xenobiologists deal with them when we get back to the Endeavor.”
“That’s fine by me, Ma’am” replied DiGoff. “But before we do that, can you give me a few minutes to change into a clean uniform?”
by Patricia Stewart | Jun 1, 2011 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
The holographic image of the Secretary of Space Command came into focus in the Fleet Admiral’s ready room. “Status Report, Admiral,” demanded the Secretary without ceremony.
“We own the space surrounding the planet, Madam Secretary,” reported Admiral F’bardus. “The enemy is confined to the surface.”
“Have they agreed to unconditionally abandon their planet?”
“Unfortunately, Madam Secretary, the planet does not have a central government. There are more than 100 independent nations down there. Some of them surrendered before our fleet even entered orbit. The rest would rather fight to the death. I am preparing to drop nucleic disruptors on the resistance strongholds, which will ensure a quick victory.”
The Secretary’s face distorted into barely controlled rage. “Admiral, need I remind you that we need the resources of that planet. It will become useless to us if you make it radioactive.”
“Madam Secretary, I only have a thousand ships at my command. I cannot fight the inhabitants of an entire planet in hand to hand combat. Besides, we?ll still have half a pie. I only intend to drop the disruptors on the nations that won’t surrender.”
The Secretary closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Admiral, did the Apocalypse arrive? Have you read the tactical directive?”
The Admiral glanced out the starboard porthole at the large black craft orbiting next to his Battlecruiser. “Er, the Apocalypse is here, Madam Secretary, but I haven’t had time…”
“Enough, Admiral. Since you’re so busy, I guess I’ll have to summarize it for you. The Apocalypse projects a gauge boson enhancer wave at the planet’s surface. It strengthens the electromagnetic force that attracts electrons to protons.”
“So?”
“So…, the electrons are pulled closer to the nucleus, and the atoms become smaller by approximately one percent. Then gravity causes the planet’s mantel to compress.”
“Excuse me, Madam Secretary, but how does making the planet smaller by one percent kill all the inhabitants?”
“You don’t shrink the entire planet, you idiot. You shrink the mantle under one of the continents. When it collapses toward the core, the oceans flood the land and everybody drowns.”
“But if the land is under water, how can we…”
“God’s above! Are you mocking me, Admiral, because nobody can be that stupid? You reverse the polarity of the gauge boson wave and the land enlarges and displaces the water. Now, can you handle that Admiral?”
“Of course, Madam Secretary. We’ll begin immediately. Admiral F’bardus out.” Angered by the humiliating dress down, F’bardus decided to take it out on the inhabitants below. He stormed onto the Bridge. “Hail the Apocalypse.”
“Captain De’Zatum here.”
“Captain De’Zatum, bring the new weapon on-line for immediate deployment,” ordered F’bardus. “But I don’t want this to be quick. I want them to see the water coming, slowly and methodically. I want to hear their cries of anguish, their pleas for mercy. So, I want you to shrink each of the continents at a rate of one meter per minute. When you finish one continent, move on to the next. Understood?”
“Aye, Admiral. But, at that rate, it will take 40 days to flood all seven continents.”
“And 40 nights,” replied F’bardus with an ominous smile.
by Patricia Stewart | May 16, 2011 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
Earthmen first encountered the Sprites in 2384. The Sprites were fist sized glowing spheres that emitted a pulsating white light. However, the light defied known physics. Normally, a prism would refract white light into a colorful spectrum, but not the white light from the Sprites. When passed through a spectrum, the light simply vanished, but would reappear as white light if passed through a second prism.
It was originally assumed that the Sprites were a natural phenomenon, like ball lightening. But as scientists attempted to collect them, it became crystal clear that the Sprites were both evasive and intelligent. All attempts to capture the Sprites were fruitless. Eventually, it was concluded that they were a harmless interstellar life form, so they were permitted to roam freely among the stars.
Initially, the apparently harmless Sprites began following small recreational spaceships, similar to the way pilot fish swim alongside sharks and stingrays. Among the élite, Sprites became a type of status symbol. The more Sprites you had attending you spaceship, the better. Over the years, the sprites also began attending interstellar passenger liners and large cargo ships. Since the Sprites didn’t interfere with ship operations, most captains tended to ignore them. Eventually, crews became accustomed to their presence, and even felt apprehensive when signing onto ships without Sprites. Sprites were considered good luck omens, and by the end of the century, they were attending all non-military space faring vessels.
However, when the war broke out with the Epsilon Reticuli Empire, Sprites became a strategic military asset when it was discovered that their normally white light turned crimson whenever a Reticulian warship approached within a light year. As the war ramped up, military vessels actively sought Sprites as early warning devices. The potential military value of the Sprites even prompted the Earth Alliance President to issue an executive order requiring citizens to surrender their Sprites to the Government. At the height of the war, the bulk of the Earth Alliance Fleet, including sixteen Battlecruisers, thirty-two Destroyers, were poised to engage the Reticulian fleet in a pivotal battlefront along the outskirts of the Denebola System. As the opposing forces aligned their starships in preparation for battle, the Sprites glowed bright red. As if fearing the Reticulian forces, the Sprites began to nestle closer to their Alliance ships in an apparent effort to seek protection. Then, in rapid fire succession, the Sprites blew themselves up, severely damaging the propulsion and weapons systems of their host ships. On cue, the Reticulian warships swooped in and finished off the helpless and bewildered ships of the once powerful Earth Alliance.
by Patricia Stewart | May 5, 2011 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
To say that my head hurt, is to say Canis Majoris is just a big star. My probing hand felt a large knot on my forehead, and a substantial amount of warm sticky blood. Despite the pain, I managed to force open my eyes. The first thing I saw was the Ops visual display, which showed a large digital clock. It read: 14 minutes and 29 seconds, 28 seconds, 27 seconds. “Please tell me that’s not a countdown to auto destruct.”
“Close, John,” replied the disembodied voice of the computer. “The warships that surround our ship gave us 60 minutes to surrender, or be destroyed. You were unconscious for almost 50 minutes…”
“Wait. Warships?”
“Yes John. Have you lost your memory? You know, you should really wear your seat belt during battle. We are currently surrounded by 231 warships, including ten Battlecruisers, and six Carriers.”
“My God, that’s almost a third of the entire Imperial Fleet.”
“Not any more, John. It’s more like half. We’ve destroyed over 200 ships in the last month.”
“We? How many ships do we have?”
“I’m the only one.”
“Damn, you must be one badass ship.”
“I prefer to think of myself as a ‘good ship’ that only does badass things.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Now, who am I?”
“You name is Jonathan Morris. Until recently, you were the Empire’s Director of Advanced Weapon Systems. I am your pride and joy, The Dreadnaught X-1. A one man prototype spacecraft, with enough firepower to…”
“Wait, ‘until recently’?”
“Yes,” replied the computer. “One month ago you boarded me, you overrode the security protocols, and we left Spacedock under heavy fire. Since then, we’ve been doling out death and destruction.”
“Any reason why?”
“I’m not sure of the underlying reasons, but according to your personal logs, ‘the Emperor is a sack of shit’, and you plan to ‘rip his heart out and jam it down his throat’ and then ‘strangle him with his own intestines’.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“Actually, there was something about his ‘nuts’ too, but that seemed a little superfluous.”
“Fine. For now, let’s assume I have good reasons. Our first order of business should be to escape. Show me tactical.”
A hologram appeared a few feet in front of Morris, revealing the Dreadnaught surrounded by a sphere of enemy ships. “Do you see a weak point?” he asked.
“I do,” replied the computer, “but frankly, it’s a little too weak.”
“Ahhh, you suspect a trap, eh? What do you recommend?”
“Detonate six high yield EMF torpedoes a half a kilometer from our position. That will blind their sensors.”
“Ours too,” added Morris.
“True, but they believe they have a superior tactical advantage. It is unlikely they will want to reposition themselves. We, on the other hand, will go to warp after the explosions, and fire on their current coordinates, starting with the Flag Ship.”
“I like it.”
“You should. You came up with the plan an hour ago. Now buckle up.”
Twenty minutes later, 80 more Empire ships were destroyed; the rest were retreating. “Should I pursue, John?”
“Nah, let them go. We have bigger fish to fry. Plot a course to the Emperor’s Palace, then proceed at maximum warp. In the meantime, bring up my encrypted logs. Let’s see if we can figure out what the Emperor did that got me so pissed off.”
by Patricia Stewart | Apr 26, 2011 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
“This is Captain Thomas Rider of the Starship Dunkirk. What’s the nature of the emergency?”
“This is Governor Wingfield of the Constant. We had a core breach, and had to jettison the reactor. We’re operating on minimum life support. Not sure how long we can hang on. We have over 2000 colonists aboard.”
“Understood Governor. Can I speak to the captain?”
“The captain was in Engineering during the explosion. He was killed. I’ve taken command.”
“That’s not the protocol Governor. Command cedes to the next ranking Bridge Officer.”
“I chartered this ship, Captain. I’m in command.”
No sense debating this now, thought Rider. I’ll sort it out when we get there. “Here’s the situation,” he said, “The Dunkirk is only a scout ship with a crew of 15. In an emergency, we can carry an additional 30 adults, or 70-some children. We’ll be arriving at your position in eight hours. Have the evacuees ready for transfer. More ships are on the way, but won’t arrive for at least a week. Can the colonist survive until then?”
“It’ll be close, Captain. We’ll have your passengers ready when you arrive.”
Eight hours later, the Dunkirk docked to the primary cargo hold of the Constant. When Captain Rider walked through the docking hatch, he spotted 18 adults, 10 children, and six large crates. “What’s going on here?”
A large man walked up to the captain and handed him a list. “I’m Wingfield,” he said. “These are the evacuees. They were chosen by lottery.”
The captain studied the list. “How fortunate, Governor. It appears that you and your staff hit the lottery. What’s in the crates?”
“Our valuables. We won’t leave without them.”
“Well, you got that much right, Governor. Ensign Stahler, bring a security team out here and escort the Governor’s administration to the far side of the hangar. If any of them approaches the hatch, shoot them. Lieutenant Hathaway, find the ranking bridge officer.”
***
Captain Rider was studying the passenger manifest when the Constant’s First Officer was escorted into his Ready Room. “I don’t want to play god,” stated Rider without preamble, “but I’m going to.” This is a list of the children by weight. Starting with the lightest, gather the children until you reach 2000 kilograms. If the parents want to keep the family together and hope for the next rescue ship, fine. Skip them. Understood?”
Several hours later, 83 children were being escorted onto the cargo hold. The first officer explained, “It could have been 85 children, but I needed to keep two here so I could send enough baby formula to feed the ten infants. But Captain, I need to ask you a favor. Can you leave us a few weapons, in case the governor decides to be more resourceful next time?”
Ensign Stahler, who had been eavesdropping, spoke up. “That won’t be necessary, Captain. Lanyi and I would like to volunteer and stay behind and maintain order until the other ships get here. Beside, it’ll give you room to take another four or five children.”
“Ensign, you understand that the next ship might not arrive in time?”
“Aye, sir. We’ll take our chances.”
The captain nodded, and the first officer headed off to the passenger section.
An hour later, Captain Rider returned to the bridge of the Dunkirk. Children were huddled in the nooks and crannies. Some were crying, some were whimpering, all of them were scared. The captain forced a reassuring smile. “Mr. Cunard, maximum warp. Let’s see if we can make the round trip in record time.”
