Flagship (A Captain's Crucible #1) (4 page)

"No idea," Wolf said. "One of the strangest conversations I've had all year."

Jonathan returned to the bridge. The members of the first watch were still on duty and would remain so for the next four hours.

He took his seat at the Round Table. "Ops, status on the
Selene
and
Aegis
."

"Still waiting on the latest relay drone," Ensign Lewis told him. "Two hours before it's overdue."

Jonathan tapped his fingers on the handrest of his chair. He glanced at Robert. "At this rate, we're going to have to uproot the flotilla and search for them ourselves."

"We'll have to recall the
Grimm
," Robert told him. "Unless you've decided to split the task unit after all."

"No. I want us together."

He glanced at the tactical display fed to his aReal from the CDC, represented as a three dimensional grid overlaying his vision. Task Unit One, labeled TU 72.5.1 on the aReal, was located on the opposite side of the system. If anything happened to Jonathan's task unit, say a Sino-Korean ambush, it would take days for the first unit to reach them, and a minimum of a few weeks after that before any reinforcements arrived.

That was the most unnerving thing about operating on the fringes of known space: the sense of isolation. The nearest system, Prius 3, had only a dome colony of two hundred thousand inhabitants on one of its pseudo planets; that and a tiny United Systems military outpost manned by a few corvettes. The system connected to Prius 3 was little better. It was at least another two jumps before any substantial United Systems military presence.

Jonathan focused his attention on the blue dot representing the harvester vessel, the
Grimm
. The thick, heavily reinforced ship was currently located just above the Kármán line in the lower thermosphere of the gas giant, the point at which atmospheric reentry began, three hundred kilometers above the ammonia ice clouds. Though invisible on the display, the captain knew a tether made of super strong diamond nanothreads stretched all the way from the harvester to the cloud line, where the geronium collector was deployed. Centrifugal force countered the downward gravity on the tether, ensuring that the
Grimm
wasn't drawn into a decaying orbit.

The other support vessels, the
Aurelia
, the
Dominion
, and the
Maelstrom
, two destroyers and a frigate, respectively, remained in a higher orbit similar to the
Callaway
.

"Tap me into the
Grimm
," he told Lazur.

A few moments later Captain Souza of the
Grimm
materialized at the center of the command circle, his image overlaid courtesy of Jonathan's aReal. The man's representation was currently authorized for display only to Jonathan and his first officer.

The man smiled, though it appeared slightly forced. "What can I do for you, sir?" Harvester crews were composed of civilian contractors; such men were usually extremely respectful to their military masters, if only to ensure their contracts were renewed the next time around.

"Captain Souza, how much time do you need to finish your sampling of the upper atmosphere? Your morning update wasn't clear."

Souza scratched his chin. "We're detecting uncharacteristically high levels of geronium in the upper atmosphere—concentrations of up to eighteen parts per million in some samples."

"Just answer the question, Captain," Jonathan said.

Souza's image momentarily pixelated and flickered. "I was getting to it. Those high concentrations could mean the collector is miscalibrated, and we'll have to redo the whole sampling process. So to be on the conservative side, I'd say another three days."

"Three days?" Jonathan said. "You have two hours."

"But it takes at least two hours to reel in the line—"

"Which is precisely the amount of time I have given you," Jonathan said. "Two of our ships haven't reported in yet. I want to go look for them. You can return to the gas giant later."

There was a momentary pause on the connection.

"Sir," Souza said. "If I may be so bold... there are protocols to follow. Standards to meet. Taxiing in and out of a gas giant's orbit is a tremendous waste of propellant. We—"

Jonathan cut him off. "Two hours. Once you have reeled in the collector, I'll expect you to initiate a transfer orbit to rejoin the rest of the task unit. Contact me if there are any issues. Captain Dallas out."

Jonathan focused on the small symbol overlaying his vision in the upper left—an icon of an X stamped over a mouth—and the remote connection terminated.

Jonathan stood. "The watch changes in two hours," he told Robert. "Call in your replacement and get some rest. I want you present when we begin our search. I'll be in my office."

Taking a nap.

"Aye sir," Robert said.

* * *

"Launch a comm drone and inform the admiral we are breaking orbit to search for the
Selene
and the
Aegis
," Jonathan said after he had returned to the bridge two and a half hours later. The second drone sent beyond the moon was overdue.

"Launching a comm drone," the second watch comm officer said.

On the external video feed, Jonathan watched the new drone drift from the
Callaway
, the purple and orange bands of Achilles providing a colorful ceiling. Once the device was in range of the relay drone at the edge of the gas giant, it would transmit its message, wait for a response, and then turn back.

"Nav, plot a course toward the moon Achilles I."

"Course plotted," the nav specialist said. "Helm is clear to engage."

"Helm, push our nose into position and engage at half power when ready."

"Nose in position," the helmsman returned a few minutes later. "Engaging engines. Half power."

"Comm," Jonathan said. "Instruct the task unit to match our course and speed."

"Aye sir," the second watch comm officer said.

The
Grimm
was only halfway through its transfer orbit, and about three thousand kilometers away from the rest of the unit, but that was close enough to begin the search and rescue operation.

Jonathan stared at the dotted line of the
Callaway's
new trajectory as portrayed by his aReal. According to the tactical display, at the current speed it would take them roughly two hours to reach the moon.

"Increase speed to seventy-five percent," Jonathan said.

"Increasing speed."

"The
Grimm
won't be able to keep up," Robert observed. "She isn't even out of her transfer orbit."

"If the
Grimm
ever passes beyond ten thousand kilometers I'll slow us down," Jonathan assured him.

A few seconds later an icon indicating a call from Stanley "Jailbird" McTaggert, the chief engineer, appeared on Jonathan's aReal. Stanley had earned his nickname for the number of colonies he had gotten himself banned from during shore leave.

Jonathan accepted the call and the chief engineer appeared in the center of the Round Table for his eyes only.

"Captain, why are we pushing the engines?" the lieutenant said, the outrage obvious in his voice.

"Why are you still on shift?" Jonathan told the man. "First watch ended three hours ago."

"That's not the point. You know my engines need to be treated with respect. Use the speed only when you need it."

"We need it, Stanley. We have two missing ships. And the relay drone sent to look for them is long overdue. Something is obviously wrong. They need us. Just give me an hour and a half."

"Fine. An hour and a half. But don't make a habit of abusing my engines."

"I won't." Jonathan tapped out.

Twenty minutes passed. The tension was obvious on the bridge. Officers tapped fingers nervously, or rubbed sweaty palms. No one knew what to expect past that moon.

"How many relay probes do we have left, Ensign?" Jonathan asked the current ops officer.

"Two," Ensign McNamara said.

"You're considering launching another drone scout?" Maxwell asked him.

"You read my mind," Jonathan told the AI.

"At our current speed, we will match any drone we launch," Maxwell responded.

Good point.

"Sir?" the ensign asked.

"Never mind, Ensign," Jonathan said.

Robert extended his noise canceler to include the captain.

"Getting antsy?" the commander asked him.

"A little," Jonathan admitted. He amended that a moment later: "A lot."

"I'm sure everything will be fine," Robert said.

"You don't sound as confident as you did a few hours ago," Jonathan said.

"No," Robert agreed.

"Sir," Ensign McNamara said urgently. "The
Selene
."

Jonathan glanced at the tactical display overlaying his aReal. A blue dot had emerged from behind the moon. Zooming in on the external hull feed in the upper right, he recognized the design of the military research vessel.

"And so the prodigal daughter returns," Robert said.

"A bit disturbing that she's alone, though." Jonathan crossed his left arm over his chest, clasped the right bicep, and lifted the fingers of the right hand to his chin. He placed his index and middle fingers just above his upper lip and the thumb under his chin, forming a triangle. He rubbed the slight stubble. "Are we in hailing range yet?"

"Still too much interference," the comm officer said.

"The thermals are off, Captain," McNamara said.

"What do you mean?"

"She's running cold, sir," the ensign explained. "I don't think her reactors are operating."

Jonathan zoomed in on the external camera feed. The ship was long and box-like, resembling a smaller version of a bulk carrier. He switched to the thermal and radiation bands; the ensign was right, the emissions were extremely low, indicating most of the radiators had no internal heat to dissipate. A bad sign.

Jonathan tapped his splayed fingers over his lips. "Drifting?"

"It would appear so," McNamara answered. "Dead in the void."

"Can we tell if any of the lifepods have been used?"

"Still too much interference for an active scan. She does seem perfectly intact, though. I'm not seeing any evidence of a hull breach."

Jonathan glanced at Robert. "Commander, organize an away team. Bring an engineer. A scientist. And security—some MOTHs and Centurions. Gather in hangar bay one. I want you aboard that ship as soon as we're in range."

Robert stood. "Aye, sir."

"Maxwell, inform the shuttle department head I want a Dragonfly fueled and ready to go in hangar one. And helm, update our course. Bring us to within four kilometers of the
Selene's
starboard side."

There was no change in the status of the
Selene
as they grew near enough for communications and active sensors to punch through the interference.

Several minutes later the
Callaway
reached the given position.

"Helm, park us. Comm, instruct the remaining members of the task unit to assume safe escort positions. Ops, deploy telemetry drones. I want the
Selene's
entire hull scanned for breaches. And comm, hail them again."

The helmsman fired reverse thrust until their cruiser appeared stationary relative to the drifting
Selene
. The military research vessel lay a little under four kilometers off the port bow, thirty-five degrees declination.

"No answer to our hails," the comm officer said.

"Hull scan is complete," Ensign McNamara said some time later. "The
Selene
is intact."

"Any signs of the
Aegis
yet?"

"No, Captain."

"Ops, launch another relay drone to Achilles I. Instruct it to return to communications range and issue a data dump ten minutes after passing beyond line of sight. Instruct it to repeat the operation ad infinitum, adding intervals of ten minutes to its journey each time. Let's see if we can paint a partial picture of the dark side before we lose it like the others."

"Launching drone," the second watch ops officer said.

Technically, Jonathan could have had either Maxwell, ops, tactical or even comm launch that drone; he tried to divvy up tasks as appropriate for the intended function.

"Captain," the comm officer said. "Comm Drone B has returned from the edges of the gas giant. There's a message from the admiral for you. Would you like me to send it to your aReal?"

"Summarize it," Jonathan said.

The comm officer paused a moment, then said: "The admiral acknowledges our search and rescue operation. Though he seems disappointed that we let the two ships venture forth without approval from him, first."