The Epherium Chronicles: Embrace (7 page)

Maya sidestepped her team members standing in the corridor and headed back toward the nearest elevator. She silently stepped in and pressed the button for the level that housed the Security Control Office and leaned back against the wall as it accelerated.

Maya began to run her hands through her hair and visualized herself placing barrettes, similar to the ones that the little girl had, in her auburn locks. To the daydream, she even added a mother figure helping her, and she smiled with unexpected happiness.

The opening of the lift door at her requested destination broke Maya from her reverie. She sighed dejectedly and stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway. As she walked, her mind continued to re-paint pictures of her youth, her real youth. Julian Greywalker was the only parent she had ever known, but he was not her father. She had never known her true family, but she formed a unique bond to her manufactured brothers and sisters, and that bond was as strong as any family’s blood ties. It all seemed so long ago, and the tragedy that ended their time together clouded her picture. Maya prided herself on maintaining a disciplined mind, and she wiped the images from her current train of thought.

Not long after leaving the elevator, Maya arrived at Security Control, walked to her office located in the rear of the facility and closed the door. She moved her high backed chair away from the desk and reveled in the relaxing feeling her specially designed chair provided. Comforts were not something that was often seen on space stations in the EDF, but this was one of the few that this job provided.

She reached forward and pressed the control on her desk to activate her wall monitor. Admiral Grant from EDF Command appeared on the screen and instantly smiled at Maya.

“Admiral Grant, so good to hear from you. What can I do for you, sir?”

“Well, Lieutenant, I never found time to fully thank you for all your help with that extortion plot against my daughter,” Admiral Grant said.

“No thanks are necessary, Admiral. We were just doing our job, sir.”

“Yes, my daughter is extremely grateful to you and your team.” The admiral paused and held up a file for Maya to see on the monitor. “It seems to me that your talents are being wasted out there on that station, and I have an opportunity for you, Lieutenant. One which I think uniquely fits your abilities.”

Maya sat up in her chair then leaned forward onto her desk. “What sort of opportunity?”

The admiral smiled again. “I need the best for an important mission, and you’re it. Pack your bags and catch the next shuttle to Mars Station. I’ll fill you in when you arrive. Grant out.”

Maya sank back into her chair. Her mind quickly scanned over all the potential needs that the EDF brass might require of her, but she quieted them down and focused on one most important detail. Mars. After all this time, she was going home.

Chapter Five

EDF Armstrong
Thursday
,
January 16
Earth Year 2155

Maintenance teams continued to work around the clock to make modifications to the
Armstrong
and her systems. The new particle cannon had now been mounted to the ship, but most of the work to integrate the new weapon was focused in the engineering sections on the inside.

The space outside the Dreadnought was marked with multiple pockets of activity. Mars Station maintained operational control of any traffic, and all activities were strictly defined to local zones around the
Armstrong
to prevent any mishaps. Traffic to the new ship had increased dramatically over the past day. Three near collisions had already been reported.

Shuttles and cargo transports cycled into the docking bays every other hour and returned to the station for another run. Most of the shuttles were ferrying work crews to the ship, but many of the newly assigned crewmembers for the
Armstrong
were sprinkled into their midst.

Lieutenant Commander Rafael Sanchez was dressed in his standard EDF dress uniform and tried to relax in his seat on the shuttle that was about to start its docking sequence with the
Armstrong
. The shuttle pattern offered a grand view of the new Dreadnought, and Sanchez leaned forward to get a better look out the nearest viewport.

Sanchez, the newly assigned XO for the
Armstrong
, looked in amazement at the ship, and the changes that were being put in place. He had experience with the alpha design of this class of vessel, but to be actually assigned to one was a real thrill. He tried to get a better look at the gunships working their docking maneuvers, but the angle the shuttle used for its approach limited his vision.

Sanchez sat back in his seat, and his vision was once again consumed by the person strapped in the seat across from him. A large man dressed in a mechanic’s overalls, goggles, an old baseball cap, and sporting a huge smile had not given Sanchez a moment’s peace since they stepped onto the shuttle back on the station. The man’s name was Jerry Bendle, and Sanchez had begrudgingly learned that Mr. Bendle was assigned to the work crew testing the new gunship connections. He also seemed to be a self-proclaimed expert on several other things onboard the ship and had explained them in detail to Sanchez, during the painfully long forty-five minute period they had shared together.

“I told ya’ she’s a beaut,” Bendle said. “I try to get a good seat near a window every trip out to her, just so I can see what’s changed. What d’ya think?”

Sanchez smiled back at Jerry. “She’s very impressive, Jerry. I have gotten to know the Akitas for a while now, but seeing it up close is always an incredible site. I spent a lot of time on cruisers and frigates, and the size of these new ships is immense.”

“Hell, son, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Wait to you get inside. I can give you a full tour if ya want.”

“Thanks, Jerry, I appreciate that, but I think I am scheduled to meet my command liaison when we arrive. Rain check?” Sanchez asked politely.

“No problem, Commander. Just being neighborly,” Jerry said. “Look me up down at the Engineering Mechanical section, and I’ll show ya around. How’s that?”

“Will do, Jerry, will do.”

The shuttled passed down the port side of the Dreadnaught and something outside caught Sanchez’s eye. Another shuttle was adrift about five hundred meters from the docking bay. An entire section of its fuselage had been crushed and she was leaking atmosphere. Two other ships surrounded it, both rescue shuttles. One of the rescue shuttles moved away from the damaged craft and headed toward the
Armstrong’s
docking bay.

Sanchez watched intently as the rescue shuttle entered the bay. He reached to his wrist for his comm band. He had to find out what was going on, but he forgot. He packed it. It was his promise to himself for a quiet and relaxing ride to his new duty station. Almost dejected, Sanchez slid back into his seat. The angst of not being where he was needed started to chew at him, but he suffered it sourly. It was a long five minutes before his shuttle was given clearance to land.

Sanchez felt the shuttle slow then jerk slightly as the docking bay tractor beam began to pull them toward their destination. It didn’t take long for the viewport to be filled with the image of the interior of the
Armstrong
docking bay. Once the shuttle cleared the edge of the docking bay exterior doors, its landing gear extended, and the shuttle gently set down on to the docking bay floor.

As was the normal process for disembarking, all the passengers waited until the pressurization indicator over the exit door turned from red to green before they exited their seats. Sanchez waited for all the other passengers to disembark then gathered his briefcase and travel satchel. Once he reached the shuttle exit door, Sanchez looked down from the top of the ramp, and he saw a young blonde female officer waiting patiently at the bottom.

Sanchez waived to catch her attention and descended the ramp to the bay floor. The officer immediately took notice and moved to meet him as he stepped off the ramp. “Welcome aboard, Commander. I’m Lieutenant Wells, the new Communications Officer. Captain Hood wanted to meet you here personally but was called away to the Engineering section. They’re installing the power systems for the new particle weapon, and he wanted me to escort you to the Command Deck. He will meet up with us there.”

“Not a problem, Lieutenant,” Sanchez replied as he slung his travel satchel over his shoulder. He looked past the lieutenant to the large windows along the corridor outside. He could see five members of the rescue shuttle team still clad in helmeted environmental suits moving swiftly as they pushed two gurneys in front of them. “I saw the rescue shuttle enter the bay. What happened?”

“Two supply shuttles collided,” Wells answered as she turned to look at the rescue team which was about to enter the elevator lift. “One of them only took minor damage and is on its way back toward the station. The other suffered a hull breach. It was lucky there were only the two pilots on board. Both got banged up pretty bad, so we had them brought on board.”

“Is the med bay ready to receive them?” Sanchez inquired.

“Yes, sir. Dr. Patton and his staff arrived this morning and spoke with the rescue team directly.”

“Good,” Sanchez said. “I’m glad things are under control.” He started walking toward the bay exit. “Should I wait here for the rest of my things?”

“Not necessary, sir. I’ve instructed the docking crew to move your belongings up to your quarters. Follow me, and I can get you there first.”

Wells took Sanchez’s briefcase and led him toward the docking bay exit nearest the shuttle. When the pair had crossed nearly half of the distance to the exit, a metallic crashing sound came from the side of the bay near the secondary exterior door control array. Three metal poles that had been stacked awkwardly in a corner had fallen over and landed hard on the hangar bay floor.

The poles rolled to the side and struck the base of a large spare floor panel that was leaning against the wall. The panel fell over and landed across the control array, and immediately the bay was filled with warning claxons and flashing red lights. Sanchez recognized the warning condition. The bay was about to open its exterior doors and would soon start its de-pressurization process. He uttered a nearly unintelligible curse, dropped his satchel and ran to the array, with Wells on his heels.

Sanchez arrived at the array and flipped the metal floor plate off with a grunt. The panel landed flush to the hangar deck with a loud clang that made his ears twinge. The array’s controls contained two banks of several switches, all with different colors and icons, a red switch with a separate guard in the center of the panel, and a series of lights for status were located near the top. For safety, the controls for the exterior doors had to be operated with two buttons. The buttons were positioned far enough apart in separate banks, so that any activation required two hands or the help of another person.

Sanchez quickly inspected the controls, looking for the right one, but several of the switches in the two banks were crushed. Sparks erupted for the service access panels from underneath the array, forcing Sanchez and the slightly bewildered Lieutenant Wells to back away. Needing to work fast, Sanchez unzipped his bag and removed a jacket from inside. Shielding his eyes and hands from the sparks with the jacket, Sanchez approached the array. He flipped open the guard on the center red switch and pressed it down hard with the palm of his hand. The claxons and the warning lights ceased. Sanchez backed away from the control array still holding his jacket. It was smoking now, and so was Sanchez’s temper.

As the sparks subsided, several technicians rushed to the scene with fire extinguishers. One of the technicians moved to the circuit panel on the wall and hit the overall interlock switch for the bay controls, which turned off the power for that array.

Two technicians holding their extinguishers at the ready cautiously approached the array, and one opened the service doors on the underside. Sanchez could see trails of white smoke escape as they opened the doors, and he could detect a brief scent of ozone. The technicians activated their extinguishers. Blasts of cold fumes circled the array, sending a slight chill down Sanchez’s arms and legs, but it did little to cool his anger.

Sanchez finished patting his now ruined jacket on the floor, stood, looked around the bay then turned back to the technicians. “Who’s responsible for this? I want to know now!” he yelled, pointing at the poles and floor panel.

Two more maintenance technicians arrived on the scene, and both immediately looked at the pipes and floor panel. In solemn resignation, one of them sighed, and began to shake his head.

The
Armstrong’s
XO stormed over to the two men. “Is this mess your handiwork?”

“Sorry about this, sir, we went to the storage room during the shuttle dock to get a new fitting for the pipes and—”

Sanchez interrupted him. “Your incompetence destroyed this control array and nearly cost the lives of everyone in this docking bay!” He turned to Wells. “Where is the deck officer?”

“He’s in the docking bay main control room, let me get him on my comm,” Wells pressed two buttons on her wrist comm pad.

A few moments later a gruff voice came over the comm pad’s speaker. “What’s going on down there? Is everyone alright?”

Sanchez leaned over to use Wells’ comm, “This is Commander Sanchez, the new XO. What is your name?”

“This is Chief Warrant Officer Ryan Coolidge, sir,” the voice replied nervously.

“Well, Warrant Officer Coolidge, we were lucky. We’ve lost the secondary control array for this bay, and it could have been worse. I need your techs to get this array replaced and operational ASAP. We have a tight schedule to meet, and there can’t be any delays in received equipment and personnel.”

“Yes, sir!” Sanchez heard over the speaker.

“Can you see us, Mr. Coolidge?” Sanchez waved his hand toward the control room that was located on the wall nearly ten meters above the floor of the bay.

“Yes, sir. I can see you fine.”

“Excellent.” He pointed to the two maintenance technicians, who were busy removing their pipes and the loose floor panel. “I want these two geniuses on the next shuttle off this ship, and I do not want to see them again.”

The technicians stopped in their tracks and almost dropped the pipes on the floor for a second time.

Sanchez looked at them, scowled then continued. “Get them out of here, and I want a full report on my desk by twenty-two hundred hours. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Coolidge?”

“Crystal, sir.”

Sanchez gave Wells the kill sign, and she terminated the comm channel. He grabbed his travel satchel and only slightly smoking jacket off the floor and quietly strode to the exit, leaving the grumbling maintenance technicians behind.

Wells quickly moved after him. She nearly ran him over while looking over her shoulder at the now vividly disgruntled technicians. “Excuse me, sir, but was that wise? These guys tend to hold grudges.”

Sanchez exited the docking bay, dropped his bag and jacket, and turned to the young lieutenant. “Lieutenant Wells, if you haven’t guessed, I’m not easily impressed, and that level of undisciplined incompetence is unacceptable. I realize that they’re civilians, but this is a military vessel. Recklessness puts lives at risk. When we become fully operational, we need to be efficient and disciplined. The message has to start somewhere, and it’s best that it starts now. I know you may think this makes me a hard ass, but experience in this area has taught me some hard lessons.”

“Point taken and understood, sir,” Wells replied. “I was merely concerned with the repercussions that may result from some of the maintenance personnel. There is a lot of work to be done, and angry sentiments tend to spread and cause problems. These workers tend to be a tight knit group. Driving a wedge can’t be good.”

“I am aware of that, Lieutenant, and that is why I asked Mr. Coolidge to address the issue and file the report. I want it fully documented when I speak to those men’s superior tomorrow morning. I don’t want them fired, Lieutenant, but I do want to set an example.” Sanchez relaxed his tone. “I know you are not a person prone to conflict, Lieutenant Wells. I read your file. Excellent translator and linguist, but you’ve always shied away from situations of conflict or stressful negotiations. A slap on the back with those guys and a ‘That’s okay’ is the wrong message here. Trust me, it’ll all work out.”

“Understood. If you don’t mind me saying, sir, it seems you know a lot about me, but I know very little about you,” Wells replied a bit nervously.

Two incidents in the first day on the job
, Sanchez thought to himself. Not a great way to give an impression. Sanchez picked up his bag again, handed his jacket to Wells and started walking toward the elevator. “Come on. Give me the nickel tour, and let me drop off my stuff. I promise I’ll answer any question you have about me, within reason, of course. After that, let’s see if the captain is back from dealing with Engineering.”