DRAFT 4
FAR FROM HOME: PROLOGUE
Captain Ford looked out the aft bridge window of the Mayflower at the stars around him, one a bright blue. Just right of the dimly lit Sun, Earth was no more than a dot in the sky. Captain Ford’s life experiences and memories were wrapped into a star that looked no larger than a pinhole of light. Out here in the cold darkness of the Kuiper Belt, near Pluto’s orbit, one felt very alone. But loneliness is nothing new to the Captain.
Captain Ford joined the United Earth Defense Force not long after the death of his first wife and two children. His time and experience as a Captain of the United States Navy was transferable to his new position and his new ship. Now a Captain of the UEDF Mayflower, his mission was no longer to protect the sovereignty of the United States and its interest, but to protect the sovereignty and interests of the Planet Earth.
Or at least it used to be.
Captain Ford heard footsteps from behind. He kept his eyes toward the blue star.
“We have safely cleared the suns gravitational pull and all of the engines are ready for FTL travel Captain. The helm is ready when you are.” Banin’s Russian accent was particularly toned down today.
“Excellent Banin. I will be there in a moment.”
“Yes Captain”
“And Banin; Please announce to all passengers to prepare for FTL. We will be leaving this solar system in a few minutes.
“It will be done Captain”.
The First Lieutenant’s footsteps trailed off and Captain Ford was again left alone with his thoughts.
With no family waiting for him at home, he felt compelled to spend as much time away from familiarity. His house, his neighborhood, his commute, his office, his ship; everything reminded him of his family. The only logical escape was to get as far away from his old life as possible. He could not get farther away than out here in the vacuum of space.
He remembers contacting his commanding officer requesting a transfer and recommendation be submitted to the UEDF. He remembers the fuss the US Navy brass threw after hearing the news. He knew that they knew the US was losing an exceptional officer. He remembers his first day on the job. It was his fiftieth birthday and he had no body to celebrate it with. He remembers meeting Pam, his second wife and secretary to his commanding officer. He remembers acquiring his first ship, the Tiberius, and the difficulty he had in overcoming cultural barriers. He remembers the short but violent war with a second unidentified alien race. He remembers them leaving abruptly, probably after recognizing that Earth would not go without a fight. He remembers the loss of much of his crew and the hundreds of letters he sent to wives and children. He remembers his commendation, awards, metals, and promotions after holding fast despite the odds. He remembers the trust he garnered from the top brass and the world as a whole.
The PA system clicked on and three notes harmonically broke the hum and beeps of the bridge’s computers and ventilation system.
“Good day everyone” Lieutenant Banin was speaking in a very professional but friendly tone, aware that the crew shared the ship with civilians. His voice echoed against the walls of the ship. “This is Lieutenant Banin. This has been a long time coming and many of you have sacrificed much to be here. This is a big day for us, and it is an important day for Earth and its citizens. In a few moments we will be engaging our FTL drives and leaving the sun’s orbit on a voyage that will span what feels like a few years.” Banin paused for a brief moment. “FTL stands for Faster Than Light speed. We will be traveling at a rate of over 200,000 miles a second. You have been briefed regarding the side effects of prolonged FTL travel, but you can be assured that the hull of this ship has been outfitted to mitigate these effects to virtual irrelevancy.”
Indeed, the Mayflower was the first and only ship of its kind. Only one other ship designed by mankind had ever contained an engine capable of FTL speed, and it took years to create a hull capable of withstanding its forces. Captain Ford had never experienced FTL. Today will be a first.
Banin continued, “If you would please join with me, we will sing the international anthem of our beloved Earth before departure.” Banin cleared his throat over the PA system. “Once divided, now united…” The rest of the crew on the bridge immediately joined in.
That was a nice touch, thought Ford, to sing the international Anthem before leaving the Earth’s view, as tiny as it looked. This would be a great day for mankind, and an important day for mankind’s future. But it would be a sad day for those persons aboard the Mayflower. Once gone, there would be no turning back. This was a one way trip.
Never again would these passengers see, with their own eyes, their beloved. Never again would they set foot on its beaches, mountains, or fields. Never again would they smell the salty air of its sea, nor smell the sweet pines of its forests. Never again would they hear the soft crash of its waves or the pitter-patter of rain from its vast clouds. Earth, as far as he is concerned, is one of a kind. No matter how similar their new habitat may be, Earth would always be home.
Captain Ford caught the final stanza of the hymn, and with reverent strength joined in, “no matter what may come, we will stand as one.” Silence filled the bridge, and no doubt the rest of the ship. He could hear a few of his men sniffle. The sound of hum and clicks resumed. Banin waited for what seemed like eternity before speaking.
“All passengers please report to their rooms. We will be leaving shortly. Good day and God speed.” Three notes harmonically sung and the PA system clicked off.
Amongst the hum and beeps of the bridge there fell a heavy silence. Captain Ford, never having moved from the aft window with his eyes still drawn to the blue twinkle from Earth, could feel the eyes of his crew burning a hole in the back of his neck. The tension of the unknown filled the room. No one knew what they were getting themselves into. It was theory that they would survive a one way trip that took three years at FTL speeds. It had never been done before. And now he, his crew, and hundreds of civilians would be the pioneers of space; and he was their Captain.
Captain Ford closed his eyes to the Sun and its blue satellite, turned, and walked toward the helm. His boots softly clicked against the cold floor. With his back towards Earth and his eyes toward the stars, he was ready to leave his home, his past, and his memories behind.
Conducting himself with all the responsibility he could muster at this nervous moment, Captain Ford gave the orders, “All stations ready. Hertz, begin warming FTL drives. Count down is 60 seconds. Banin, ensure that all remaining power is routed to the hull, stabilizers, and gravity in partitions of sixty percent, thirty percent, and ten percent. Williams, ensure that our bearing is correct. Fifty seconds. Remy, take the countdown from here.”
Ford could feel his blood flowing faster. His veins expanded. He took a deep breath and held it. In all his years as captain, both with the US and the UEDF, he had never felt so scared. Against the enemy he had data, intelligence, and most certainly weapons. But against the unknowns of space, all he had were theories and educated guesses. He felt helpless. He exhaled through his nose.
“Forty Seconds”
He could stop the countdown. He could call the voyage off and turn home; blame it on a technical failure. But his crew would know it was a lie and would never trust him again. Wasn’t trust better than respect; better than love? No. He made his decision years ago. He was the first Captain briefed on the wild idea to send a crew and civilians on a one way trip to Tau Ceti, the closest known habitable planet. Earth would be overpopulated in less than twenty years. This mission, his mission, was to test the survivability of this ship and its crew. If successful, it would pave the way to sending more people to another planet, ensuring that planet Earth would survive it’s billions of hosts. Stopping that would be tantamount to murder. He must get this ship and its citizens to their destination.
“Thirty Seconds”
“Captain!”
That was not Remy’s voice but the voice of Williams.
“Captain,” Williams sounded confused. “the UEDF Andromeda is pulling into the path of our trajectory.”
Captain Ford gripped the arms of his chair. “What do mean pulling in!?” For a split second, Captain Ford felt relief. Perhaps the UEDF decided against the mission.
Williams repeated his words, this time as a statement, “The UEDF, Capital Ship Andromeda is pulling into our path of trajectory for FTL sir. The computer is giving me a warning that it is no longer safe to engage in FTL.”
“Impossible,” said Lieutenant Banin. “The Andromeda is stationed some twenty million kilometers from here with instructions to oversee the repair of Station Seven.”
“Yet there it is Lieutenant” said Ford.
Just off in the distance no more than several kilometers away floated a red mass.
Captain Ford instinctively wanted to ask why. But a stupid question would get a stupid answer. Williams nor Lieutenant Bannin would know why. “Hail them and get Captain Beverly on the line.”
“Twenty Seconds Captain”. Remy obediently continued the count down.
“Hertz,” shouted Ford. “Shut down the FTL drives!” He must have sounded annoyed, but he truly felt confused. Despite the fear that filled him twenty seconds ago, he was sure he felt anger slowly creeping inside. “Have you hailed the Andromeda yet?”
“No response sir. She is just sitting there”
Williams sounded confused for them both. A Captain should never show confusion, only confidence.
It started to sink in. Here he was, twenty seconds from making history, and a friendly ship refusing to hail his request is sitting in his way out here in the middle of nowhere. There must be a good reason. “Keep trying,” shouted Ford. He got up and walked toward the fore window of the bridge for a closer look at the Andromeda. “And will somebody contact Station Seven. I want to know the meaning of this.”
The Andromeda was a red ship in space, no larger than a football from this distance. The Andromeda lay motionless and silent.
“Sir,” shouted Williams, “I’m getting static from the line but no response. Wait. It sounds like...” Williams face scrunched as he tried to focus his ears on what he was hearing. “I can’t make it out, but it sounds like words. The static is too strong”
“Switch frequency from Com one to Com two. Keep weakening the encryption level until you get something intelligible.”
“Yes sir.”
Ford continued to stare at the Andromeda. Its red hull reflected the distant sun with radiance. Built at the height of the last war, The Andromeda was the flag ship of the UEDF. It was designed to stun its enemy with beauty before shattering him into submission. Even from this distance one could admire her look; simplistic and beveled with cannon and gun seamlessly integrated into its design.
“Sir,” Lieutenant Banin said in disbelief. “All contact with Station Seven has been lost. We have no way of contacting them.”
“Have you tried the back channel?”
“Yes sir.”
“How about my direct line to Admiral Faust”
“Of course sir. There is no response.”
And Williams was having difficulty communicating with the Andromeda through their ship-to-ship comlink. Perhaps hailing another orbiting ship will work. “Pierce.”
“Yes sir.” Pierce was taller than he looked sitting down. Pierce turned to face the Captain.
“Attempt to hail the Radiance. It shouldn’t be further than a few thousand kilometers from our position. Follow Williams’s communication pattern, starting at Com one. Make sure not hail on the same frequency as Williams.”
“Yes sir.”
What was going on? Surely his superiors were watching, wondering why they hadn’t yet made the jump to FTL. He was surprised no calls were coming in.
Captain Ford stood still. He could barely make out his reflection in the large window. He looked composed. His blood levels and heart beat were slower than what they were just minutes ago. His breathing was returning to normal. But the inability to communicate with the Andromeda or Station Seven made him uneasy.
Williams spoke, “Sir, all I get is static from the Andromeda. I have reached Com level six and have no other channels but the old encryption communication methods, all of which are no longer in use.”
“Use them. I must communicate with the Andromeda. And you Pierce?”
“I am getting static also. Perhaps something is wrong with our transmission?”
Not likely, thought Ford. They have drilled this similar scenario over and over again. Never has preparation for FTL disabled communication. However, he was taught to never rule out any possibilities.
“Banin, call tech support and have them look at our communication systems right away.”
“As you wish.”
The Mayflower carried the most advanced communication system, and likewise employed some of the top communication specialists. This was necessary if communication where to take place between two parties twelve light years apart. In fact, the Mayflower itself was a floating antenna. Once it arrived on Tau Ceti, the majority of its power was to be used to establish communication with Earth. Now it appeared that one of its primary functions was useless.
He could not communicate with his superiors aboard Station Seven, he could not communicate with the Andromeda, and he could not communicate with any nearby ships. Seated in the captain’s chair Ford’s heart sank. Something was wrong.
***
Captain Beverly of the Andromeda stood tall, white boots against the glass of the large fore window of the bridge. His composure, firm and collected, was such as to hide his fear. Before him stood the Mayflower, token of the Alliance’s commitment to pursue life in the face of extinction. The success of its mission would mean the success of mankind.
But the Andromeda herself disagrees, Beverly thought. Or at least she refuses to obey her commander.
Captain Beverly began assessing the situation again, hoping to discover a reason for his predicament, but more immediately a solution.
It started several hours ago. The Andromeda was docked over the planetoid Sedna. Captain Beverly was given orders to observe the final phase of Station Seven’s reconstruction when all of a sudden communication between him and the station were cut off. Many of his men were watching live coverage and commentary of the Mayflower’s preparation for departure before it went static. His communications officer conducted a test on every band with no results. His tech specialists were also dumbfounded. Even spacenet was down. All communication devices were useless. Contact with the outside was rendered impossible. Even contact through non-military channels wouldn’t get through. And if his attempt at morse code worked, he got no response from the station that it was received.
And then the Andromeda began moving on its own. Captain Beverly recalls sitting in his chair. He felt the motion of the ship move from its docking station, turn to open space, and take off toward the Kuiper Cliff. Neither the tech specialist nor the helmsmen were at their post to initiate stabilizers or steer the ship. And when they did arrive to their posts, they could do nothing to take control of their stations. Any official and unofficial attempt to commandeer the helm was fruitless.
Reports from all stations throughout the ship were the same: all control had been lost. The helm, gravity, stabilizers, oxygen, and communication systems, along with all other stations, had been rendered uncontrollable. Yet the ship moved through space with precision.
The readouts showed the system activity of the ship working like clockwork. Except for stabilizing power, the use of which would have made the ride more comfortable, power was used efficiently and systems compensated accordingly which resulted in the continued survival of his crew and the flight of his ship twenty million kilometers toward the Kuiper cliff.
Captain Beverly had all appropriate personnel check into the possibility of the Andromeda’s Artificial Intelligence taking control of the ship, but results came back negative. Reports from his analysts came to similar conclusions. The ship was being controlled from somewhere outside the confines of the ship; the controller of the ship was intelligent, artificial or sentient; and there were zero methods of communication.
Captain Beverly and his crew, hostage to the Andromeda, were only left to sit and observe her flight toward the edge of the solar system and her stop in the direct flight path of the Mayflower’s maiden voyage.
According to the news a few hours prior to communication breakdown, the Mayflower should be leaving the Solar System right now; if not for his ship standing in its way. Captain Beverly, baffled by the events of the last few hours, turned from the window, walked to his chair, and sat down with his legs folded. His fingers slowly caressed his upper lip.
“Lieutenant McClain.” His voice soft but tinged with frustration.
Lieutenant McClain, quickly stepped alongside the Captain, clicked his right heal in line with his left, bowed his head in a half @#!*% and quickly let out, “Captain?” in a sharp English baritone.
“Is there still no word from Station Seven, Admiral Faust, or the Mayflower?”
“No sir. We continue to hail the Mayflower but either she does not respond or our systems also fail in ship to ship communication. As for Station Seven and your superior, there is still no word.”
“And are all systems still out of our control?”
“Yes they are sir. The tech specialists and engineers are still looking into the cause of the failure.”
“I would hardly call it a failure McClain. The systems are still working, are they not?”
“They are sir. What I meant was…”
“What you meant was our specialists and engineers don’t know why I can’t control my own ship. The top specialists of these systems, and they don’t know what’s wrong!” Beverly couldn’t help but sound frustrated. He suppressed it. “And the morale of my men, how is it?”
“After initial confusion and rumors of mutinee, the men have handled themselves well and appear ready to do their duty.”
“There are not duties to perform without a ship to accept them” His frustration surfaced again. “And do my men not trust me? Who would commit mutinee on this ship?”
“No one to my knowledge sir”
“Then why do they think it possible?” Beverly knew it was not possible. His men were hand selected and their loyalty proven to the UEDF. Many of his men even served under him during the last war.
“Logical explanations for our predicament are scarce sir. A few of the men began jumping to illogical conclusions.”
“I suppose logic is a rarity at the moment.” Beverly sighed and switched the subject. “And we have only one logical theory. Our ship has been hijacked externally from some intelligent force, either artificial or sentient, and our control systems aboard the ship have been locked.”
“That is correct sir.”
“As far as we know Lieutenant, the Andromeda was never outfitted with remote access. All systems had to be controlled from within the ship.
“That is my understanding sir.”
“And any possibility to hack the ships control systems externally through spacenet would be ruled out?”
McClain paused. Daryl McClain started his army career in spacenet communication and was the top communications officer of his class. He understood spacenet and all of its possibilities. He knew that the UEDF’s encryption and anti-electronic theft systems were classified and overly protected, but nothing was impossible when it came to net communication. “Not entirely sir.”
“Elaborate McClain”
“True, spacenet is restricted to military access only. And the encryption and firewalls are classified and theoretically unbreakable. Even the technology with which we built spacenet is alien and largely unknown to…” McClain paused.
“Continue McClain.” Beverly demanded.
Lieutenant McClain did not finish his sentence. “Sir, it is my understanding that this ship was serviced within the last year.”
“No more than a few months ago.”
“Were any of its systems upgraded?”
Beverly started connecting the same pieces McClain was. “Yes. The final stage of repairs required a new power relay for all communication systems. Instead of the latest Earth derivative, the UEDF opted for a power relay based on technology salvaged from ruined enemy ships from the last war; the same technology spacenet is based on.”
Beverly thought the impossible. Could the new power relay’s compatibility to spacenet compromise the communication systems security? And could a breach into one system stretch into other systems on this ship?
Beverly shouted across the bridge, “Specialist Nelson, please come here”. One of the few women on this ship, and the only woman on the bridge, Anne Nelson was only second to Lieutenant McClain when it came to network communications in the entire UEDF. Unlike McClain, however, she had studied alien communication theory. Her brain, like her body, was phenomenal and unmatched. She walked toward the helm with swift grace, her dark curly hair tightly woven behind her head with her slender neck exposed. “Yes sir?” Nelson said with confidence.
“What do you know about the new power relay recently installed into our communications system?”
“It is new technology derived from an alien dreadnought found off the coast of Venezuela. Its technology is similar to ours in that its conductors are electron based and conform to our theories of thermodynamic law, but the language used to program the system is not binary in nature.”
The soothing arc of Nelson’s voice speaking in such an intelligent fashion made every word that much clearer. In fact, the combination of brains and beauty were a breath of fresh air to the male machismo that elevated during this crisis.
Specialist Nelson continued, “Before promoting to the bridge of the Andromeda I was the primary specialist on the team preparing the technology and language for adaptation into our current military systems network. Is your interest in the technology associated with our current crisis?”
“Yes”. Captain Beverly was careful to sound under control, but this woman didn’t seem the type to panic under pressure. She was, after all, a crewmember of the Andromeda. “I have a suspicion that the power relay’s adoption into our ship’s network may have compromised all systems within the Andromeda.
Specialist Nelson finished the Captain’s thought, “And because spacenet and the power relay are based on technology from the same source, you think an alien virus could have penetrated our ships communication system, and through the power relay, also affected other systems within the network.”
“Precisely.”
Nelson paused in silence, her amber eyes dropping to the floor as she sorted the information.
McClain asked, “Is it possible to verify our Captain’s theory?”
Nelson closed her eyes, “Yes. But it could take hours to manually check all systems for a breach”
Captain Beverly unfolded his legs and placed his feet flat on the floor. “What about a breach into our communications network?”
“Because we have lost all control of our systems, there is no way to run a quick internal diagnostic on an isolated communications array. However, we do have tools which are not plugged into the main network. I can manually hack into our communication system’s wired network and run a check on any foreign code.”
“How long will it take?” Beverly sounded more hopeful than he had in the last few hours.
“Foreign code will stand out in stark contrast to our familiar language. I can find the abnormality within the hour.”
“Excellent. Begin at once.”
“Yes sir.” Nelson turned and quickly paced toward the bridge stairs. But no further did she make it when the entire bridge shook, the entire crew collapsing under the violent shift. It was as if an earthquake occurred in space.
The tremor continued. Captain Beverly was clutching onto this chair with his thighs wide to prevent him from slipping off. He could feel his head vibrating, every muscle clenched to prevent his teeth from shattering or his neck from breaking.
Lieutenant McClain was on the floor beside him, prostrate and staring at the starboard window. “Captain, look!”
Captain Beverly focused on the Mayflower as it slowly moved across the fore window to the starboard side of the ship.
“Captain, we have a problem.” Deployment Officer Luck was half out of his chair with his hands clutching the panel. His screen was flashing red. The shaking was so bad he found it difficult to get the next words out, “All of our docking bays are opening. All fighters and Corvettes are preparing for launch.”
“Who’s launching them!? Who are manning my ships!?”
“No one sir. They appear to be empty”
“Are you telling me that they are moving on their own!?”
“Yes sir.”
A loud siren went off throughout the ship. The lights dimmed and infrared track lights came on, turning the bridge red. Through the bridge windows, the stars of the sky became even more brilliant and space more black.
Captain Beverly’s heart sank. The Andromeda was activating battle mode and all fighters, corvettes, and the defense coordinator were moving into deployment position.
“Close the bay doors!” Yelled the Captain.
Flabbergasted at the orders, Officer Luck responded, “the system is out of my control!”
“Well, get someone in there and have them manually shut off!”
“Sir, getting men into space uniform will take time. With the bay doors open, all life support systems in the hangers are useless.”
“Do it now Luck!”
“Yes sir.”
Captain Beverly was scatterbrained. Of course with the bay doors open to outer space no man would be able to get in without a space suit. And there was no time to get men into space suits in what would probably be a fruitless attempt to shut down doors that were opened by an unknown force. The shaking didn’t help either. He was reminded that he was no longer the Captain of the Andromeda, only an observer.
Once the Mayflower was starboard, the Andromeda stopped turning. The tremors stopped as well as the siren, the white noise of the bridge a welcome sound. The infrared lighting stayed on. The silence, thought Captain Beverly, was haunting. Nobody moved. Captain Beverly stood out of his chair and carefully walked toward the starboard window. With his white boots against the glass, he looked out and down toward the massive hull of his ship. The bay doors were indeed open, white lights flashing above them. To his right, about halfway across the length of the ship, white lights began circling around a black orifice.
Captain Beverly’s worst fears were confirmed. The Andromeda was preparing to attack the Mayflower.
Captain Beverly turned to look at who was left standing. Lieutenant McClain was walking to a station left of the weapons terminal with a red light emitting from its face. Throwing formality out the window, Captain Eric Beverly addressed the lieutenant by his first name. “Daryl,” The corners of his lips uncontrollably turned downward. His heart became heavy at the thought of what he was about to say. “Am I correct in assuming that the Ion Cannon is being activated?”
Daryl McClain looked down at the Cannon terminal. A small dark screen with blue numerals showed the percentage slowly increasing. To the left of that small screen, two red lines were filling in with light, to the left of the READY button the GREEN charging light was blinking. “The Ion Cannon is at forty percent and will be ready to fire in ten minutes”
Captain Beverly knew it was the end of the line. With the Andromeda out of his control and preparing to attack a friendly target inhabited by civilians, he had to make a decision that would save innocent lives. But how do you scuttle a ship out of your control and without military ordinance. The crew of the Andromeda were never outfitted with anything more than hand pistols. He wouldn’t have time to solve that problem.
Just when Captain Beverly thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.
A quiet, slow, repetitive beep sounded across the room. A green light blinked yellow, then orange, and then red. Specialist Luck ran over to the station, his legs wobbly from the tremor.
With great regret, Specialist Luck looked down at the terminal, watching all rooms aboard the ship losing oxygen. “Captain, all life support systems are shutting down.” To the left, a blue bar dimmed. The text beneath it read GRAVITY. “Gravity system is also shutting down.”
Of course, thought Beverly. Why would an alien virus need oxygen or gravity to control the ship?
Beverly quickly made a last ditch effort to warn the Mayflower of the dilemma. “Daryl, do you remember your morse code?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Use the bridge lights to quickly send a message to the Mayflower of the impending danger. It is our hope that they will see it.”
“At once sir”.
In a futile effort resulting more from frustration than logic, Captain Beverly pulled from his holster his pistol and shot the Ion Cannon control panel. The panel lid popped off exposing a mess of wires and hardware. A small fire started and quickly died. Out the bridge window Beverly saw lights still circling the Ion Cannon’s barrel.
Captain Beverly’s eyes closed and his face scowled. He became angry at what was about to take place, both for his crew and the inhabitants of the Mayflower. He took a deep breath and regained his composure. As he opened his eyes Captain Beverly stood facing the Mayflower, token of the alliance and target of the Andromeda. He knew Specialist Nelson’s results would be positive. Aliens had managed to hijack the Andromeda through spacenet into the power relay. His ship, the flagship of the UEDF and the protector of Earth, was prepared to destroy thousands of soldiers and civilians. And all Captain Beverly could do was pray that the Mayflower was prepared to defend itself.
Captain Beverly felt his feet precariously lift from the floor.
***
Banin shouted, “Captain, the Andromeda. Look!”
Ford turned from his communication officers and walked towards the massive fore window of the bridge. The Andromeda had assumed attack position and the bridge lights of the Andromeda were flickering in a distinct pattern.
Captain Ford rushed to the PA system. Flipping the switch from digital to telephone he coded the PA system for the entire ship. The PA system clicked and three notes harmonically followed. With the microphone in hand he paused before looking up towards the first lieutenant. The pain was evident in Ford’s eyes. The captain spoke;
“All hands to battle stations. Prepare to attack.”
Captain Ford looked out the aft bridge window of the Mayflower at the stars around him, one a bright blue. Just right of the dimly lit Sun, Earth was no more than a dot in the sky. Captain Ford’s life experiences and memories were wrapped into a star that looked no larger than a pinhole of light. Out here in the cold darkness of the Kuiper Belt, near Pluto’s orbit, one felt very alone. But loneliness is nothing new to the Captain.
Captain Ford joined the United Earth Defense Force not long after the death of his first wife and two children. His time and experience as a Captain of the United States Navy was transferable to his new position and his new ship. Now a Captain of the UEDF Mayflower, his mission was no longer to protect the sovereignty of the United States and its interest, but to protect the sovereignty and interests of the Planet Earth.
Or at least it used to be.
Captain Ford heard footsteps from behind. He kept his eyes toward the blue star.
“We have safely cleared the suns gravitational pull and all of the engines are ready for FTL travel Captain. The helm is ready when you are.” Banin’s Russian accent was particularly toned down today.
“Excellent Banin. I will be there in a moment.”
“Yes Captain”
“And Banin; Please announce to all passengers to prepare for FTL. We will be leaving this solar system in a few minutes.
“It will be done Captain”.
The First Lieutenant’s footsteps trailed off and Captain Ford was again left alone with his thoughts.
With no family waiting for him at home, he felt compelled to spend as much time away from familiarity. His house, his neighborhood, his commute, his office, his ship; everything reminded him of his family. The only logical escape was to get as far away from his old life as possible. He could not get farther away than out here in the vacuum of space.
He remembers contacting his commanding officer requesting a transfer and recommendation be submitted to the UEDF. He remembers the fuss the US Navy brass threw after hearing the news. He knew that they knew the US was losing an exceptional officer. He remembers his first day on the job. It was his fiftieth birthday and he had no body to celebrate it with. He remembers meeting Pam, his second wife and secretary to his commanding officer. He remembers acquiring his first ship, the Tiberius, and the difficulty he had in overcoming cultural barriers. He remembers the short but violent war with a second unidentified alien race. He remembers them leaving abruptly, probably after recognizing that Earth would not go without a fight. He remembers the loss of much of his crew and the hundreds of letters he sent to wives and children. He remembers his commendation, awards, metals, and promotions after holding fast despite the odds. He remembers the trust he garnered from the top brass and the world as a whole.
The PA system clicked on and three notes harmonically broke the hum and beeps of the bridge’s computers and ventilation system.
“Good day everyone” Lieutenant Banin was speaking in a very professional but friendly tone, aware that the crew shared the ship with civilians. His voice echoed against the walls of the ship. “This is Lieutenant Banin. This has been a long time coming and many of you have sacrificed much to be here. This is a big day for us, and it is an important day for Earth and its citizens. In a few moments we will be engaging our FTL drives and leaving the sun’s orbit on a voyage that will span what feels like a few years.” Banin paused for a brief moment. “FTL stands for Faster Than Light speed. We will be traveling at a rate of over 200,000 miles a second. You have been briefed regarding the side effects of prolonged FTL travel, but you can be assured that the hull of this ship has been outfitted to mitigate these effects to virtual irrelevancy.”
Indeed, the Mayflower was the first and only ship of its kind. Only one other ship designed by mankind had ever contained an engine capable of FTL speed, and it took years to create a hull capable of withstanding its forces. Captain Ford had never experienced FTL. Today will be a first.
Banin continued, “If you would please join with me, we will sing the international anthem of our beloved Earth before departure.” Banin cleared his throat over the PA system. “Once divided, now united…” The rest of the crew on the bridge immediately joined in.
That was a nice touch, thought Ford, to sing the international Anthem before leaving the Earth’s view, as tiny as it looked. This would be a great day for mankind, and an important day for mankind’s future. But it would be a sad day for those persons aboard the Mayflower. Once gone, there would be no turning back. This was a one way trip.
Never again would these passengers see, with their own eyes, their beloved. Never again would they set foot on its beaches, mountains, or fields. Never again would they smell the salty air of its sea, nor smell the sweet pines of its forests. Never again would they hear the soft crash of its waves or the pitter-patter of rain from its vast clouds. Earth, as far as he is concerned, is one of a kind. No matter how similar their new habitat may be, Earth would always be home.
Captain Ford caught the final stanza of the hymn, and with reverent strength joined in, “no matter what may come, we will stand as one.” Silence filled the bridge, and no doubt the rest of the ship. He could hear a few of his men sniffle. The sound of hum and clicks resumed. Banin waited for what seemed like eternity before speaking.
“All passengers please report to their rooms. We will be leaving shortly. Good day and God speed.” Three notes harmonically sung and the PA system clicked off.
Amongst the hum and beeps of the bridge there fell a heavy silence. Captain Ford, never having moved from the aft window with his eyes still drawn to the blue twinkle from Earth, could feel the eyes of his crew burning a hole in the back of his neck. The tension of the unknown filled the room. No one knew what they were getting themselves into. It was theory that they would survive a one way trip that took three years at FTL speeds. It had never been done before. And now he, his crew, and hundreds of civilians would be the pioneers of space; and he was their Captain.
Captain Ford closed his eyes to the Sun and its blue satellite, turned, and walked toward the helm. His boots softly clicked against the cold floor. With his back towards Earth and his eyes toward the stars, he was ready to leave his home, his past, and his memories behind.
Conducting himself with all the responsibility he could muster at this nervous moment, Captain Ford gave the orders, “All stations ready. Hertz, begin warming FTL drives. Count down is 60 seconds. Banin, ensure that all remaining power is routed to the hull, stabilizers, and gravity in partitions of sixty percent, thirty percent, and ten percent. Williams, ensure that our bearing is correct. Fifty seconds. Remy, take the countdown from here.”
Ford could feel his blood flowing faster. His veins expanded. He took a deep breath and held it. In all his years as captain, both with the US and the UEDF, he had never felt so scared. Against the enemy he had data, intelligence, and most certainly weapons. But against the unknowns of space, all he had were theories and educated guesses. He felt helpless. He exhaled through his nose.
“Forty Seconds”
He could stop the countdown. He could call the voyage off and turn home; blame it on a technical failure. But his crew would know it was a lie and would never trust him again. Wasn’t trust better than respect; better than love? No. He made his decision years ago. He was the first Captain briefed on the wild idea to send a crew and civilians on a one way trip to Tau Ceti, the closest known habitable planet. Earth would be overpopulated in less than twenty years. This mission, his mission, was to test the survivability of this ship and its crew. If successful, it would pave the way to sending more people to another planet, ensuring that planet Earth would survive it’s billions of hosts. Stopping that would be tantamount to murder. He must get this ship and its citizens to their destination.
“Thirty Seconds”
“Captain!”
That was not Remy’s voice but the voice of Williams.
“Captain,” Williams sounded confused. “the UEDF Andromeda is pulling into the path of our trajectory.”
Captain Ford gripped the arms of his chair. “What do mean pulling in!?” For a split second, Captain Ford felt relief. Perhaps the UEDF decided against the mission.
Williams repeated his words, this time as a statement, “The UEDF, Capital Ship Andromeda is pulling into our path of trajectory for FTL sir. The computer is giving me a warning that it is no longer safe to engage in FTL.”
“Impossible,” said Lieutenant Banin. “The Andromeda is stationed some twenty million kilometers from here with instructions to oversee the repair of Station Seven.”
“Yet there it is Lieutenant” said Ford.
Just off in the distance no more than several kilometers away floated a red mass.
Captain Ford instinctively wanted to ask why. But a stupid question would get a stupid answer. Williams nor Lieutenant Bannin would know why. “Hail them and get Captain Beverly on the line.”
“Twenty Seconds Captain”. Remy obediently continued the count down.
“Hertz,” shouted Ford. “Shut down the FTL drives!” He must have sounded annoyed, but he truly felt confused. Despite the fear that filled him twenty seconds ago, he was sure he felt anger slowly creeping inside. “Have you hailed the Andromeda yet?”
“No response sir. She is just sitting there”
Williams sounded confused for them both. A Captain should never show confusion, only confidence.
It started to sink in. Here he was, twenty seconds from making history, and a friendly ship refusing to hail his request is sitting in his way out here in the middle of nowhere. There must be a good reason. “Keep trying,” shouted Ford. He got up and walked toward the fore window of the bridge for a closer look at the Andromeda. “And will somebody contact Station Seven. I want to know the meaning of this.”
The Andromeda was a red ship in space, no larger than a football from this distance. The Andromeda lay motionless and silent.
“Sir,” shouted Williams, “I’m getting static from the line but no response. Wait. It sounds like...” Williams face scrunched as he tried to focus his ears on what he was hearing. “I can’t make it out, but it sounds like words. The static is too strong”
“Switch frequency from Com one to Com two. Keep weakening the encryption level until you get something intelligible.”
“Yes sir.”
Ford continued to stare at the Andromeda. Its red hull reflected the distant sun with radiance. Built at the height of the last war, The Andromeda was the flag ship of the UEDF. It was designed to stun its enemy with beauty before shattering him into submission. Even from this distance one could admire her look; simplistic and beveled with cannon and gun seamlessly integrated into its design.
“Sir,” Lieutenant Banin said in disbelief. “All contact with Station Seven has been lost. We have no way of contacting them.”
“Have you tried the back channel?”
“Yes sir.”
“How about my direct line to Admiral Faust”
“Of course sir. There is no response.”
And Williams was having difficulty communicating with the Andromeda through their ship-to-ship comlink. Perhaps hailing another orbiting ship will work. “Pierce.”
“Yes sir.” Pierce was taller than he looked sitting down. Pierce turned to face the Captain.
“Attempt to hail the Radiance. It shouldn’t be further than a few thousand kilometers from our position. Follow Williams’s communication pattern, starting at Com one. Make sure not hail on the same frequency as Williams.”
“Yes sir.”
What was going on? Surely his superiors were watching, wondering why they hadn’t yet made the jump to FTL. He was surprised no calls were coming in.
Captain Ford stood still. He could barely make out his reflection in the large window. He looked composed. His blood levels and heart beat were slower than what they were just minutes ago. His breathing was returning to normal. But the inability to communicate with the Andromeda or Station Seven made him uneasy.
Williams spoke, “Sir, all I get is static from the Andromeda. I have reached Com level six and have no other channels but the old encryption communication methods, all of which are no longer in use.”
“Use them. I must communicate with the Andromeda. And you Pierce?”
“I am getting static also. Perhaps something is wrong with our transmission?”
Not likely, thought Ford. They have drilled this similar scenario over and over again. Never has preparation for FTL disabled communication. However, he was taught to never rule out any possibilities.
“Banin, call tech support and have them look at our communication systems right away.”
“As you wish.”
The Mayflower carried the most advanced communication system, and likewise employed some of the top communication specialists. This was necessary if communication where to take place between two parties twelve light years apart. In fact, the Mayflower itself was a floating antenna. Once it arrived on Tau Ceti, the majority of its power was to be used to establish communication with Earth. Now it appeared that one of its primary functions was useless.
He could not communicate with his superiors aboard Station Seven, he could not communicate with the Andromeda, and he could not communicate with any nearby ships. Seated in the captain’s chair Ford’s heart sank. Something was wrong.
***
Captain Beverly of the Andromeda stood tall, white boots against the glass of the large fore window of the bridge. His composure, firm and collected, was such as to hide his fear. Before him stood the Mayflower, token of the Alliance’s commitment to pursue life in the face of extinction. The success of its mission would mean the success of mankind.
But the Andromeda herself disagrees, Beverly thought. Or at least she refuses to obey her commander.
Captain Beverly began assessing the situation again, hoping to discover a reason for his predicament, but more immediately a solution.
It started several hours ago. The Andromeda was docked over the planetoid Sedna. Captain Beverly was given orders to observe the final phase of Station Seven’s reconstruction when all of a sudden communication between him and the station were cut off. Many of his men were watching live coverage and commentary of the Mayflower’s preparation for departure before it went static. His communications officer conducted a test on every band with no results. His tech specialists were also dumbfounded. Even spacenet was down. All communication devices were useless. Contact with the outside was rendered impossible. Even contact through non-military channels wouldn’t get through. And if his attempt at morse code worked, he got no response from the station that it was received.
And then the Andromeda began moving on its own. Captain Beverly recalls sitting in his chair. He felt the motion of the ship move from its docking station, turn to open space, and take off toward the Kuiper Cliff. Neither the tech specialist nor the helmsmen were at their post to initiate stabilizers or steer the ship. And when they did arrive to their posts, they could do nothing to take control of their stations. Any official and unofficial attempt to commandeer the helm was fruitless.
Reports from all stations throughout the ship were the same: all control had been lost. The helm, gravity, stabilizers, oxygen, and communication systems, along with all other stations, had been rendered uncontrollable. Yet the ship moved through space with precision.
The readouts showed the system activity of the ship working like clockwork. Except for stabilizing power, the use of which would have made the ride more comfortable, power was used efficiently and systems compensated accordingly which resulted in the continued survival of his crew and the flight of his ship twenty million kilometers toward the Kuiper cliff.
Captain Beverly had all appropriate personnel check into the possibility of the Andromeda’s Artificial Intelligence taking control of the ship, but results came back negative. Reports from his analysts came to similar conclusions. The ship was being controlled from somewhere outside the confines of the ship; the controller of the ship was intelligent, artificial or sentient; and there were zero methods of communication.
Captain Beverly and his crew, hostage to the Andromeda, were only left to sit and observe her flight toward the edge of the solar system and her stop in the direct flight path of the Mayflower’s maiden voyage.
According to the news a few hours prior to communication breakdown, the Mayflower should be leaving the Solar System right now; if not for his ship standing in its way. Captain Beverly, baffled by the events of the last few hours, turned from the window, walked to his chair, and sat down with his legs folded. His fingers slowly caressed his upper lip.
“Lieutenant McClain.” His voice soft but tinged with frustration.
Lieutenant McClain, quickly stepped alongside the Captain, clicked his right heal in line with his left, bowed his head in a half @#!*% and quickly let out, “Captain?” in a sharp English baritone.
“Is there still no word from Station Seven, Admiral Faust, or the Mayflower?”
“No sir. We continue to hail the Mayflower but either she does not respond or our systems also fail in ship to ship communication. As for Station Seven and your superior, there is still no word.”
“And are all systems still out of our control?”
“Yes they are sir. The tech specialists and engineers are still looking into the cause of the failure.”
“I would hardly call it a failure McClain. The systems are still working, are they not?”
“They are sir. What I meant was…”
“What you meant was our specialists and engineers don’t know why I can’t control my own ship. The top specialists of these systems, and they don’t know what’s wrong!” Beverly couldn’t help but sound frustrated. He suppressed it. “And the morale of my men, how is it?”
“After initial confusion and rumors of mutinee, the men have handled themselves well and appear ready to do their duty.”
“There are not duties to perform without a ship to accept them” His frustration surfaced again. “And do my men not trust me? Who would commit mutinee on this ship?”
“No one to my knowledge sir”
“Then why do they think it possible?” Beverly knew it was not possible. His men were hand selected and their loyalty proven to the UEDF. Many of his men even served under him during the last war.
“Logical explanations for our predicament are scarce sir. A few of the men began jumping to illogical conclusions.”
“I suppose logic is a rarity at the moment.” Beverly sighed and switched the subject. “And we have only one logical theory. Our ship has been hijacked externally from some intelligent force, either artificial or sentient, and our control systems aboard the ship have been locked.”
“That is correct sir.”
“As far as we know Lieutenant, the Andromeda was never outfitted with remote access. All systems had to be controlled from within the ship.
“That is my understanding sir.”
“And any possibility to hack the ships control systems externally through spacenet would be ruled out?”
McClain paused. Daryl McClain started his army career in spacenet communication and was the top communications officer of his class. He understood spacenet and all of its possibilities. He knew that the UEDF’s encryption and anti-electronic theft systems were classified and overly protected, but nothing was impossible when it came to net communication. “Not entirely sir.”
“Elaborate McClain”
“True, spacenet is restricted to military access only. And the encryption and firewalls are classified and theoretically unbreakable. Even the technology with which we built spacenet is alien and largely unknown to…” McClain paused.
“Continue McClain.” Beverly demanded.
Lieutenant McClain did not finish his sentence. “Sir, it is my understanding that this ship was serviced within the last year.”
“No more than a few months ago.”
“Were any of its systems upgraded?”
Beverly started connecting the same pieces McClain was. “Yes. The final stage of repairs required a new power relay for all communication systems. Instead of the latest Earth derivative, the UEDF opted for a power relay based on technology salvaged from ruined enemy ships from the last war; the same technology spacenet is based on.”
Beverly thought the impossible. Could the new power relay’s compatibility to spacenet compromise the communication systems security? And could a breach into one system stretch into other systems on this ship?
Beverly shouted across the bridge, “Specialist Nelson, please come here”. One of the few women on this ship, and the only woman on the bridge, Anne Nelson was only second to Lieutenant McClain when it came to network communications in the entire UEDF. Unlike McClain, however, she had studied alien communication theory. Her brain, like her body, was phenomenal and unmatched. She walked toward the helm with swift grace, her dark curly hair tightly woven behind her head with her slender neck exposed. “Yes sir?” Nelson said with confidence.
“What do you know about the new power relay recently installed into our communications system?”
“It is new technology derived from an alien dreadnought found off the coast of Venezuela. Its technology is similar to ours in that its conductors are electron based and conform to our theories of thermodynamic law, but the language used to program the system is not binary in nature.”
The soothing arc of Nelson’s voice speaking in such an intelligent fashion made every word that much clearer. In fact, the combination of brains and beauty were a breath of fresh air to the male machismo that elevated during this crisis.
Specialist Nelson continued, “Before promoting to the bridge of the Andromeda I was the primary specialist on the team preparing the technology and language for adaptation into our current military systems network. Is your interest in the technology associated with our current crisis?”
“Yes”. Captain Beverly was careful to sound under control, but this woman didn’t seem the type to panic under pressure. She was, after all, a crewmember of the Andromeda. “I have a suspicion that the power relay’s adoption into our ship’s network may have compromised all systems within the Andromeda.
Specialist Nelson finished the Captain’s thought, “And because spacenet and the power relay are based on technology from the same source, you think an alien virus could have penetrated our ships communication system, and through the power relay, also affected other systems within the network.”
“Precisely.”
Nelson paused in silence, her amber eyes dropping to the floor as she sorted the information.
McClain asked, “Is it possible to verify our Captain’s theory?”
Nelson closed her eyes, “Yes. But it could take hours to manually check all systems for a breach”
Captain Beverly unfolded his legs and placed his feet flat on the floor. “What about a breach into our communications network?”
“Because we have lost all control of our systems, there is no way to run a quick internal diagnostic on an isolated communications array. However, we do have tools which are not plugged into the main network. I can manually hack into our communication system’s wired network and run a check on any foreign code.”
“How long will it take?” Beverly sounded more hopeful than he had in the last few hours.
“Foreign code will stand out in stark contrast to our familiar language. I can find the abnormality within the hour.”
“Excellent. Begin at once.”
“Yes sir.” Nelson turned and quickly paced toward the bridge stairs. But no further did she make it when the entire bridge shook, the entire crew collapsing under the violent shift. It was as if an earthquake occurred in space.
The tremor continued. Captain Beverly was clutching onto this chair with his thighs wide to prevent him from slipping off. He could feel his head vibrating, every muscle clenched to prevent his teeth from shattering or his neck from breaking.
Lieutenant McClain was on the floor beside him, prostrate and staring at the starboard window. “Captain, look!”
Captain Beverly focused on the Mayflower as it slowly moved across the fore window to the starboard side of the ship.
“Captain, we have a problem.” Deployment Officer Luck was half out of his chair with his hands clutching the panel. His screen was flashing red. The shaking was so bad he found it difficult to get the next words out, “All of our docking bays are opening. All fighters and Corvettes are preparing for launch.”
“Who’s launching them!? Who are manning my ships!?”
“No one sir. They appear to be empty”
“Are you telling me that they are moving on their own!?”
“Yes sir.”
A loud siren went off throughout the ship. The lights dimmed and infrared track lights came on, turning the bridge red. Through the bridge windows, the stars of the sky became even more brilliant and space more black.
Captain Beverly’s heart sank. The Andromeda was activating battle mode and all fighters, corvettes, and the defense coordinator were moving into deployment position.
“Close the bay doors!” Yelled the Captain.
Flabbergasted at the orders, Officer Luck responded, “the system is out of my control!”
“Well, get someone in there and have them manually shut off!”
“Sir, getting men into space uniform will take time. With the bay doors open, all life support systems in the hangers are useless.”
“Do it now Luck!”
“Yes sir.”
Captain Beverly was scatterbrained. Of course with the bay doors open to outer space no man would be able to get in without a space suit. And there was no time to get men into space suits in what would probably be a fruitless attempt to shut down doors that were opened by an unknown force. The shaking didn’t help either. He was reminded that he was no longer the Captain of the Andromeda, only an observer.
Once the Mayflower was starboard, the Andromeda stopped turning. The tremors stopped as well as the siren, the white noise of the bridge a welcome sound. The infrared lighting stayed on. The silence, thought Captain Beverly, was haunting. Nobody moved. Captain Beverly stood out of his chair and carefully walked toward the starboard window. With his white boots against the glass, he looked out and down toward the massive hull of his ship. The bay doors were indeed open, white lights flashing above them. To his right, about halfway across the length of the ship, white lights began circling around a black orifice.
Captain Beverly’s worst fears were confirmed. The Andromeda was preparing to attack the Mayflower.
Captain Beverly turned to look at who was left standing. Lieutenant McClain was walking to a station left of the weapons terminal with a red light emitting from its face. Throwing formality out the window, Captain Eric Beverly addressed the lieutenant by his first name. “Daryl,” The corners of his lips uncontrollably turned downward. His heart became heavy at the thought of what he was about to say. “Am I correct in assuming that the Ion Cannon is being activated?”
Daryl McClain looked down at the Cannon terminal. A small dark screen with blue numerals showed the percentage slowly increasing. To the left of that small screen, two red lines were filling in with light, to the left of the READY button the GREEN charging light was blinking. “The Ion Cannon is at forty percent and will be ready to fire in ten minutes”
Captain Beverly knew it was the end of the line. With the Andromeda out of his control and preparing to attack a friendly target inhabited by civilians, he had to make a decision that would save innocent lives. But how do you scuttle a ship out of your control and without military ordinance. The crew of the Andromeda were never outfitted with anything more than hand pistols. He wouldn’t have time to solve that problem.
Just when Captain Beverly thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.
A quiet, slow, repetitive beep sounded across the room. A green light blinked yellow, then orange, and then red. Specialist Luck ran over to the station, his legs wobbly from the tremor.
With great regret, Specialist Luck looked down at the terminal, watching all rooms aboard the ship losing oxygen. “Captain, all life support systems are shutting down.” To the left, a blue bar dimmed. The text beneath it read GRAVITY. “Gravity system is also shutting down.”
Of course, thought Beverly. Why would an alien virus need oxygen or gravity to control the ship?
Beverly quickly made a last ditch effort to warn the Mayflower of the dilemma. “Daryl, do you remember your morse code?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Use the bridge lights to quickly send a message to the Mayflower of the impending danger. It is our hope that they will see it.”
“At once sir”.
In a futile effort resulting more from frustration than logic, Captain Beverly pulled from his holster his pistol and shot the Ion Cannon control panel. The panel lid popped off exposing a mess of wires and hardware. A small fire started and quickly died. Out the bridge window Beverly saw lights still circling the Ion Cannon’s barrel.
Captain Beverly’s eyes closed and his face scowled. He became angry at what was about to take place, both for his crew and the inhabitants of the Mayflower. He took a deep breath and regained his composure. As he opened his eyes Captain Beverly stood facing the Mayflower, token of the alliance and target of the Andromeda. He knew Specialist Nelson’s results would be positive. Aliens had managed to hijack the Andromeda through spacenet into the power relay. His ship, the flagship of the UEDF and the protector of Earth, was prepared to destroy thousands of soldiers and civilians. And all Captain Beverly could do was pray that the Mayflower was prepared to defend itself.
Captain Beverly felt his feet precariously lift from the floor.
***
Banin shouted, “Captain, the Andromeda. Look!”
Ford turned from his communication officers and walked towards the massive fore window of the bridge. The Andromeda had assumed attack position and the bridge lights of the Andromeda were flickering in a distinct pattern.
Captain Ford rushed to the PA system. Flipping the switch from digital to telephone he coded the PA system for the entire ship. The PA system clicked and three notes harmonically followed. With the microphone in hand he paused before looking up towards the first lieutenant. The pain was evident in Ford’s eyes. The captain spoke;
“All hands to battle stations. Prepare to attack.”