No Man's Space 1: Starship Encounter (11 page)

The engineers blew up one of the satellites near the ships. The bits of space junk moved anomalously and erratically as they collided with the invisible ships.

Seconds later, the ships disabled their cloaking systems, revealing a fleet of 18 enormous ships. They were flat discs and much larger than standard vessels. No country used ships that size; they were almost fit to be spaceports. Cassock boats weren’t this large either; they used smaller ships, easier to hide in space and less fuel-consuming during takeoff and landing.

I enabled the long-range communications and sent them another message. “This is James Wood, Acting Captain of the PAS North Star. Your fleet is unidentified and entering our port space. Leave our space immediately to avoid further hostile action. This is your second official warning; we won’t stop shooting unless you retreat or explain your presence.”

Silence.

“Want us to shoot, sir?” one of the weapons officers asked.

“Give them a few seconds,” I said.

We’d received no response, no indication of their flag or their intentions. They remained silent, without acknowledging their presence. Their bright ships glowed in space, like stars which had moved dangerously close to us. What if their weapons were as good as their cloaking systems?

I gulped. This was the time for me to make a choice, and I had no idea of what they were after. The port’s blockade had stopped the Admiralty from receiving any communications, so we were blind and I was the officer in charge. Being an engineer made matters worse; nobody had explained international diplomacy during boot camp.

The ships continued advancing towards us and didn’t show any signs of slowing down.

They’d broken safety rules near a port and ignored the port authority. Nobody was going to blame me for breaking them… unless they were carrying someone important.

“Blow them up, gentlemen,” I said. “Don’t let them get any closer.”

“Aye, sir.” The men smiled to themselves and started gesturing at their screens to control the explosions.

We shot at the ship, blew many of our satellites up, and sent legions of drones to track their movements. Several of the enemy ships were damaged by the nuclear explosions, but our smaller bombs did nothing against the rest. The port felt the explosions more than any of the enemy ships.

Our weapons only tickled them.

Why didn’t they shoot at us? If their weapons were half as good as their shields, they’d have obliterated us within minutes.

“We’ve run out of satellites, sir,” one of the weapons officers said. “And our cannons are useless.”

Just as we’d feared. A civilian spaceport was well-defended for normal standards: we could destroy smuggler ships and pirates easily, but neither the port nor the North Star had anything to do against a fleet. Not to mention such an advanced fleet.

Officers need to take action, but there was nothing we could do. We could just hope to drain their shields or whatever protected them, or hope that they got bored and left without killing us.

At times like these, I cursed whoever had decided not to add escape routes to spaceports. We were out in the open, and escape shuttles were designed to be visible and easy to rescue. Hadn’t anyone considered the dangers of being attacked and actually losing? Where did engineers go to school?

Okay, okay, the battle. What do you want me to say? We were shooting and it was useless; we were going to lose anyway.

Oh, of course. You want me to tell you everything about it because you love to hear that the Navy loses against the bad guys.

Well, the battle wasn’t going well. We weren’t fighting Cassocks, we weren’t fighting the European Front, and we weren’t finding any empires, coalitions, or anyone I knew of. We were the target in an unknown country’s new technology tests. With 18 ships. What kind of madman builds 18 prototypes before testing a vessel in battle?

“I’ve never seen their shield tech before,” Gupta said.

Neither had I. And I doubted that the Admiralty had seen it either. I hadn’t heard of any friendly ships that had disappeared recently without leaving a trace, and these ships were going to turn us into space dust.

“Keep shooting,” I said. Shooting was better than waiting for them to attack.

Then their shots began.

First, the ground shook under our feet. The entire port trembled, and our equipment short-circuited and turned off automatically. Metal clanked, broke and fell all around the port. I hadn’t seen those weapons before, but they were much worse than anything we’d ever faced.

The lights went off for a while and we turned to our back-up power system.

I switched my intercom channel to talk to Banner and his squad. I told him that we’d unsuccessfully used the bombs in the satellites. The nuclear heads did have an effect on the enemy, but nothing too great. We’d made a couple of dents, burnt a few outer hulls, and stared at the rest as they slowly approached us.

“We’re out of lights, out of bombs, and out of ideas,” I told him. “What about you?”

“Somewhat disappointed, Wood,” Banner replied. His voice was full of interferences because we used the back-up communications systems. “I was hoping that I’d hold command by now. We’ve seen the explosions from here.”

“Enjoying the fireworks, Banner?”

“I’d enjoy them more with a few more explosions up here,” he said. “How can your men miss so many shots? Are they drunk?”

“They were yours, actually.”

“Then they’re drunk,” Banner said. “Your fault, Wood. They don’t drink when they’re working for me.” He almost sounded like Flanagan. What the hell was going on? Where was the posh lieutenant who was scared of his own shadow when he spent a while aboard a Cassock frigate?

Flanagan laughed. “We’ll chase after those bastards and foam their hulls, sir.”

I told them to be careful and shouted at my men to get the systems back online. We were using secondary communications systems and our basic radars barely showed anything. The ships’ attacks had disabled everything we used, but they hadn’t been electromagnetic in nature. This was beyond our level of technology and beyond the Earth’s scientific development.

Our fighters began surrounding the enemy fleet, flying close to them. Banner and Flanagan were both collaborating together and with me. It’s funny that teamwork only starts once you’re so close to death. Everyone leaves special bonding moments until the last minute, when it’s too late to put it to good use.

“The foam’s clinging onto them,” Banner said through the intercom. “And they’re stopping.”

Finally. Everyone on the bridge fell silent and stopped moving in case the sound of their breaths alerted the enemy and started the attacks once more.

“What are you waiting for, gentlemen?” I said. “We have a battle to win.”

They kept working, but our strategy had worked. We got some of our cannons back online and shot at the ships. The corrosive foam had weakened their hulls, and the attacks damaged them.

“They’re stopping!” Banner said. “They’re stopping and changing direction.”

The men on the bridge stood up, stopped working, and cheered. Many were engineers and hadn’t had to actively fight in battle. Others belonged to the port security, and their definition of an agitated year included a couple of uprisings from the locals. None of us had been ready for a large-scale attack or for a sudden retreat. We hadn’t won the battle and we’d barely hurt them.

Perhaps polishing and painting such behemoths turned out to be more expensive than whatever they could plunder from our port.

I exhaled and realized that I’d been holding my breath all along. What the hell was I doing on a spaceport’s bridge and fighting a bunch of technologically advanced hostile ships?

Energy ships, invisibility, and destruction of technology… The madman we’d found aboard the Cassock frigate had predicted everything. He was either a visionary or he’d seen something before.

“Gupta,” I told one of my engineers, “the bridge’s yours. I’m going to have a chat with our Russian friend.”

The intercom clicked before I left the bridge.

“Wood,” Banner said through the intercom. “I’ll chase them to teach them a good lesson. They can’t fly near one of our ports and expect to get out alive.”

What was he thinking? Did he consider himself the new Nelson? We were undermanned and we were lucky enough to be alive. We weren’t going to tempt the ships to come back and finish us off.

“Negative,” I replied. “I don’t want to risk anyone else. They’ve gone, and now we have time to lick our wounds.”

“I insist, Wood.” Banner sounded tense.

“Forget it,” I said. “Get your asses down here before I tell the men to shoot you down.”

Banner didn’t reply, but his fighters headed back. He wasn’t going to forgive me easily.

Making friends, James?

I needed to talk to our Russian friend and I’d locked him up in the brig, so I headed to the North Star’s lowest deck. I know it hardly sounds humanitarian for a man who’d been held captive aboard a Cassock ship, but we were still hostile towards his country. I couldn’t set him free without the Admiralty’s authorization, but the men weren’t going to mistreat him or anything. Everyone was quite scared of the poor old man – nobody wanted to know what he’d seen, and they preferred to hurry whenever they got close to him.

The axial elevator brought me down, adjusted my rotational speed to the lowest deck’s rotation, and finally let me out. To my right, a couple of midshipmen were pushing each other into the elevators, and Gomez was dizzy and bumping onto walls because he’d been changing decks too quickly.

Damn them.

I know I was the acting captain and I had to tell them off for playing aboard the Star, but I wasn’t in the mood. I simply dodged them and kept going.

I got to the brig and found a team of medics, a stretcher, and Hatfield. They were all surrounding the man, who lay listlessly on the floor. Hatfield looked up at me and shook his head. The Russian man was dead.

Hatfield dropped the Russian’s wrist, told his men to disconnect the electrodes from him, and stood back up. He dusted himself, unworried. “It looks like our friend couldn’t stand the thought of being attacked again. It was too much for his heart.”

And I’d locked him up despite his stress. Should I have sent him to a counselor instead?

“This isn’t your fault, Mr. Wood,” Hatfield said. “You locked him up, but he was dead before you met him; nobody’s mind survives the Cassocks.” He shrugged and enabled his holographic wrist planner. “Speaking of more pleasant matters, why don’t you take some flowers to Lady Elizabeth? She could do with some courtesy, and you might benefit from her contacts.”

“Flowers?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “We’re at war. You can’t be serious about worrying about social matters.”

“Social matters are far more dangerous than the risk of dying.”

No, no, and no. I had to lead the defenses, and I didn’t know if my second-in-command was planning a mutiny. I didn’t have the time for flowers or for Lady Elizabeth.

And now I didn’t know what the Russian guy had seen. What if he’d seen something beyond normal Cassock ships? What if we were facing the next technological leap in starship design?

I guess I’d have to wait and see.

And I hated waiting.

After the fighters had landed, most of the men had stayed around the hangar to talk about the mission, the fight, and share some excitement. Others had gone straight to the best taverns in the port, and a couple of them had even invited me to join them. Hatfield had warned me that they considered me one of their own, and he was right.

Banner had questioned my right to give him orders, and he’d disappeared instead of apologizing. He would’ve apologized to O’Keeffe if he’d shown such a childish behavior. I had to start acting like a captain, or I wouldn’t keep command of the North Star until we got back home.

Selfish, right? I know, but I’d rather mess things up myself than let someone else do it for me.

York and Kozinski had already run to the hangar with bottles of contraband rum. They waved their bottles in the air. York noticed me and hid his, and Kozinski saluted while still holding the bottle in his hand.

Know what? I didn’t care. The men had fought well. They deserved a break.

And so did I, but life had larger plans for me.

“Sir!” One of the pilots ran towards me, waving his tablet in his hand. “The port controllers need your authorization and Lady Elizabeth’s approval to give Banner the special takeoff codes. Mind signing yours right now?”

Authorization? Takeoff codes? What was going on? What was he up to?

I told the pilot to forget it and to scrap the request. Banner had a lot to explain.

I trotted downstairs to Banner’s room. Lady Elizabeth had given him one of the best suites in the station: large, comfortable, and with excellent virtual views and he was also nearer the governor’s family’s chambers. I’d received the highest deference in politeness terms, but it also placed me alone on an empty floor, like my acting captain’s rank deserved. I was in a set of oversized rooms which rarely received the attention they deserved. My room stank of old air and hadn’t been dusted until the morning before our arrival. I was also on my own and without human company unless I went for a walk. Captains, apparently, need to spend all day by themselves and without contact with anyone but servants. I wasn’t going to complain, but upper class behaviors puzzled me.

I don’t mean to criticize, but he’s supposed to be the career officer, not me. He knows the rules, he knows that officers sometimes disagree with their orders, and he knows that we can’t afford to lose more men. He didn’t have the right to be annoyed, and he couldn’t act like an angry kid throwing a tantrum.

I don’t sound like a possessive wife, do I?

Perhaps I should’ve barked orders instead of chasing after my officers, but taking out the electric baton and using it on the men will only lead to insubordination. And besides, I wasn’t as corpulent as most of the men, and I didn’t want to enter a physical confrontation against anyone. I’m not a pacifist, but I don’t like risking my own health.

I got there and found Banner and Lady Elizabeth in one of his rooms as if society didn’t frown upon a young couple spending time alone in a room. Lady Elizabeth was sitting in one of the armchairs by the simulated fire, and Banner remained on the dark brown leather couch. He was sitting on the tip of the cushion, with one of his forearms resting on one knee and holding a glass of cognac. His other fist rested on his hip, and his eyes were fixed on her.
Too
fixed on her, since he’d told me that he wasn’t interested.

I walked in, and Banner stood up and bowed curtly at me. I nodded back; engineers don’t take manners as seriously as everyone else.

“Got your permission already, Banner?” I asked.

He seemed confused, so I told him about the authorization he’d requested. He denied all charges and said that I was making things up, and that I was insane. I didn’t need him to apologize or to beg for my forgiveness; I was fine as long as he didn’t keep trying to do things behind my back. He kept denying it, though. Did he really consider me so stupid?

Lady Elizabeth insisted that I should join them. The North Star’s acting captain didn’t have a good excuse to dodge the invitation, so I sat down.

We chatted about the artificial weather at the spaceport, the holographic sky in the main street, and we ended up talking about buildings and architecture. None of us was interested in the conversation, and the happy couple kept exchanging furtive glances.

“Father has sent me a message through the slow Net,” Banner said. “I have no idea how his long-range text has gone through the blockade if it’s blocking everything the Admiralty says.” He shrugged and swirled his cognac lazily. “He thinks you’ll get us all killed, and I won’t perpetuate his bloodline if I’m dead.” He put on an indifferent smile and nodded at Lady Elizabeth as if it turned him into some kind of hero. “Father is a romantic in family matters.”

“My father is very strict too. I sometimes wonder if he thinks we’re machines without any feelings.” Lady Elizabeth smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at Banner. She was desperate for his attentions, and he didn’t fall into her trap. I don’t know how he managed; I would’ve walked barefoot to the end of the world for such a smile.

The end of the world? I was desperately pathetic at times. I’d been alone for too long, and the streak wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. Especially if I continued sounding so foolish. What was next? Unicorns?

Banner continued his tale about his family. He came from one of the historical naval families on Earth. His uncle was an admiral, his grandfather had been an admiral before him, and so had many of his other ancestors. The Admiralty was plagued with men from his bloodline, and he’d managed to climb the ranks and get promotions and seniority without ever boarding a combat vessel. Now that he’d joined the North Star, his father had encouraged him to question my command and to desert if he wasn’t going to lead the men. Average men can’t leave the Navy until their term is over, but men like Banner can do whatever they like and nobody will ever go after them. Even if a magistrate decided to judge him, he’d be shielded by the rest of his family’s friends and powerful acquaintances. The law was equal for everyone, but some got away with more than others.

Banner wasn’t planning to quit, though. His jaw tensed whenever he mentioned his father’s instructions or his duty towards his family. He was the typical wealthy gentleman with enough family issues to fill several hard drives with his story, and Lady Elizabeth enjoyed every detail that he told us. He spoke of his miserable childhood aboard a wealthy space station. His family had servants who grew their food and Banner didn’t even taste contamination from Earth, but his family’s wealth came with the responsibility to join the Navy and eventually move to politics to perpetuate his family’s rule. He was bored of the tale; he must’ve talked about it to all his acquaintances. Lady Elizabeth’s eyes widened with greed whenever he spoke of his past, present, or predicted future, and she became even more interested in catching his attentions.

“I can’t blame my father, though,” Banner said to conclude his tale. “It’s part of the game we play, part of our very nature. What would the world be without using one’s influence to get something?”

“A meritocracy, perhaps?” Hatfield had entered the room and knocked after making himself heard. He frowned and tilted his nose upwards like a posh aristocrat who is tired of the world. “What kind of dirty, uncivilized and primitive society would ever promote men based on their merits rather than their connections or their blood? We’d have no differences with animals… or worse! We’d be just like the proletariat! Don’t you think this would be the most horrible reality to live in?” He bowed politely at us and maintained his gaze with Banner. He was being polite and very courteous, and his age gave him the right to say everything he wanted. Old people can insult someone and get away with it. What are you going to do? Get into a fight with them?

I have to acknowledge it, though: Hatfield has a funny view of life. Rich people can make fun of their social class. I was poor, so I couldn’t join the fun. Nobody would’ve liked my words, and Banner and Lady Elizabeth would’ve sneered at me.

Banner gave Hatfield a cold smile but didn’t speak a word. Lady Elizabeth hadn’t liked what she’d heard, but she wasn’t going to show it.

“I’m sorry to interrupt this reunion,” Hatfield continued, “but there’s a legion of gentlemen outside, seeking an audience. They have a list of
suggestions
to improve their lives aboard the port. They haven’t resorted to violence yet, but they are quite displeased. I would say this is your duty, Lady Elizabeth, since your father is unavailable right now.”

“I’ve told port security to take care of them,” Lady Elizabeth said flatly. “I’m obviously not going to take care of them myself.”

“Obviously,” Hatfield echoed. “Treating them like human beings would be far too demeaning for you. It’s best to let a dozen brutes beat and arrest innocent men whose only sin is feeding their families.”

“We’re foreigners here, Doctor,” Banner said. “This is Lady Elizabeth’s domain. We can watch, but we can’t interfere.”

“And we’re trying to fix our ship without getting kicked out,” I added. “We wouldn’t last a week in the blockade.”

Call me coward if you like, but I won’t risk my ship and my neck just to solve social matters that won’t fix anything. Society is like a high school food chain: the strongest live at the top and prey on the weak. What was I supposed to do? Lead a rebellion, become an outlaw, and steal from the rich until they send a fleet to destroy me? I wouldn’t last a year. Greater men had tried before me, and they’d all failed. I didn’t have a martyr’s soul.

“I won’t judge,” Hatfield said, “but matters escalate if nobody puts a stop to them.” He acted as if problems around the station had nothing to do with him.

“Is someone handing out moral authority?” I asked. “Because they’ve given you too much.”

Lady Elizabeth let out a quiet laugh and covered her mouth with her hand to look politer.

“I’ve taken it myself,” Hatfield said. “It’s a direct consequence of feeling entitled. By the way,
Captain
, I’d start preparing defenses if I were you. The bridge is detecting more anomalous signals and they’re still trying to decipher them. The sooner you get there, the sooner you’ll start preparing for a potential attack. I wouldn’t want to be boarded in the middle of the night again.”

Crap. Why can’t I ever relax when I’m aboard a ship? My life sucked as an engineer because captains demanded impossible deadlines and wanted the engineering lieutenant to supervise repairs. Life sucked as acting captain because I ended up with my engineering tasks added to a whole new world of problems. And during my limited rule we’d fought more enemies than in the entire previous year.

And now I had to go to the bridge and see if we were about to die. Do all captains need to worry about death so often?