“The probe is sending target updates,” said Commander Povich.
“Bring it up,” Mingana ordered.
Instantly, images of an enormous oblong structure orbiting a world striated in vibrant bands of colors unfurled on half the interfaces on the bridge. According to Consortium data, a city the size of Australia existed within the silvery, sun reflective shell of that structure. Population figures ran as high as a billion. Mingana was curious about the planet, but had no data. Her mission was the orbiting city. If the Consortium and U.N. Command wanted her to have information about the planet they would have made it available to her. She exhaled a mirthful breath and tightened her focus on the target.
After a few moments, she gazed over at Duke Rassellin, who stood next to Helm.“Looks as impregnable as ever.”
“Not a very encouraging assessment, Captain,” the Duke said dryly.
“It wasn't meant to be encouraging or discouraging,” said Mingana. “I'm just making an observation. That city is encased in material denser than a neutron star. Are you certain that whatever we're delivering will crack it?”
“Oh, the package will do more than crack it,” Helm inserted with unshakable confidence. “Much, much more.”
“At least let me take a look at this wonder weapon,” Mingana requested.
Helm narrowed a reproving gaze. “Captain, we've been over this...”
“I know.” Mingana huffed. “Eyes only. And I don't have those eyes. This is a senseless restriction placed upon me.”
“As an officer of the U.N. Fleet...an officer under orders...it is not your place to question or criticize U.N. directives,” Helm said with a sharpness in tone he had never used up to this point.
Mingana hid a smile. After her repeated lack of deference and, more often than not, overt displays of contempt toward the observer, she had finally gotten a rise out of the bastard.
Rasellin stood silent, staring at the captain. Whatever thoughts lurked behind that uncomprehending alien mask of a face, he gave no voice to them. “I will be in my quarters.” He pivoted and departed the bridge, his bodyguards in tow.
After a moment of studying the orbiting city, Helm turned away. “Let me know if the probe reports any change in the target's status.” He too left the bridge, his pace brisk.
Povich walked over to Mingana. “You shouldn't antagonize him,” he whispered.
The captain smirked. “What's he going to do, confine me to quarters? This mission is far too critical.”
“He could very well remove you, and place me in command if he doesn't want to take over,” said Povich.
“But he won't.” Mingana raised a brow. “He values crew morale, and nothing could be more demoralizing than an observer dismissing a captain in the middle of a mission.”
Povich considered his captain's point and walked away to check on a nearby station.
Mingana leaned back in her chair, resting her chin on the back of her knuckles. It won't be long. Soon, our objective will be achieved. And if we fail...we die.
***
Two years out of the Academy, Justine was posted aboard an Atlas system patrol boat as an engineering specialist.
Atlas boats were ships based on a Calaar design. They were small, sleek vessels with aerospace and warp capabilities. But what made Atlases special was that they represented the first class of advanced, galaxy standard vessels to be indigenously manufactured.
A month earlier, humans lacked the technological capacity to assemble galaxy standard ships. Such ships had been supplied by the Calaar for human use. Now, thanks to Calaar tutelage, humanity was able to establish an interstellar-level tech base...albeit at the lowest tier, but that was a start. A year later, Earth began manufacturing Explorers, larger spaceships equipped with ion drives for deep space travel. Visionaries pictured the day when the first Earth ship would reach the galaxy's core. Justine shared that grand dream. Being on the fast track, she was promoted to a lead engineering position on an Explorer ship. But the galaxy's core remained a centerpiece in her mind when she was off-duty. So much so, that she approached her captain and requested a transfer to the U.N. Technology Development Institute, a research-development facility established on Earth through human-Calaar collaboration.
The UNTDI, in a sense, was part of a weening process. The Calaar had done a great deal for the human race, actively laboring to create conditions where humans could thrive. Now, it was time for humans to take charge of their development. No longer would the Calaar transfer technology to Earth. Humans were now left to figure out a way to upgrade themselves. The Calaar provided the blueprint to help humans build tools to reach the promised land of top tier status. Humans could either follow that blueprint or lapse into stagnation. The UNTDI promised to be the catalyst that would propel Earth forward and Justine wanted so desperately to be a part of it.
“You have been a highly valued member of this crew,” her captain had told her as they conversed in his office. “But beyond that, quite frankly, you are the best engineering officer I've ever had. Are you sure you want this?”
Justine spoke without hesitation. “Very much so, sir.” Her rigid expression softened. “UNTDI is where I belong.”
After a minute, the captain relented, cracked a sentiment-filled smile and folded his hands on top of his desk. “So be it, Lt. Mingana...Justine. I can see that short of remapping your brain wave patterns, there's no changing your mind. I'll draw up transfer documents, plus a glowing letter of recommendation.”
Justine's face brightened. “Thank you so much, sir...”
A shipwide alarm intruded on the moment. A message from the bridge filled the captain's office. “Captain, four unidentified vessels have appeared on sensors...they are not Calaar!”
***
Captain Mingana walked the decks and levels of her ship as she usually did...as her crew and guests expected. She enjoyed seeing her ship's every nooks and crannies. The highlight of her tours was interacting with crew members who, if normal protocols were adhered to, would rarely see their captain in person. Mingana had never been one for protocols, at least the ones she deemed useless.
After leaving the engineering wing, her favorite section of the ship, she ventured toward the weapons control rooms. Twelve Consortium guards were posted in the corridors leading to the third weapons room. She had not a clue how many more guards were inside the room itself. She ran surveillance on Duke Rassellin's people at the beginning of this mission as they boarded the ship. Frustratingly, her officers could not get a count of the Consortium guards because they wore scramblers, a type of distortion inducing countermeasure designed to obscure monitor and sensor imagery. And since Observer Helm did not allow crew members to be present when the Consortium guests boarded, Mingana had no physical eyes to give her the count she needed. Imagers inside the third room were inactive, again on Helm's orders, leaving that area the only blind spot on the ship, surveillance wise.
The guards were protecting the weapon from prying gazes...the weapon soon to be deployed against the orbiting city. Rassellin brought his own specialists to operate the weapon, displacing Mingana's staff.
What the hell type of weapon was on her ship? she wondered obsessively. She walked past the armored guards, keeping her stride casual, even as her mind churned with feverish curiosity.
Lt. Commander Kochran met the captain when she entered the forth weapons room.
Weapons specialists paused to acknowledge their captain. Mingana met their gazes with an approving nod.
The weapons room was not Kochran's domain, but Mingana needed the engineering officer and his equipment in the area for a special assignment.
“What've you got?” she asked.
Kochran led the captain to a bulkhead at the far end of the weapons room. A saucer shaped deep probing sensor was attached to the bulkhead. He glanced at data on the sensor's display strip. “Same high level gravity readings but no source has been pinpointed. The jamming frequency they're using is off the charts.”
“So far, all we can deduce is that the weapon is gravity-based,” said Mingana.
Kochran rubbed the back of his neck, his expression grim. “So far. I've calibrated the sensor probe to the highest setting I can squeeze out of it and it still hasn't detected anything new. I'll keep tweaking it.”
Mingana sighed. “Do what you can. Determining the nature of this weapon may provide a pathway for us to disable it. Otherwise, we'll have to stick to our original timetable.”
“I just hope that damn observer doesn't nose his way down here,” Kochran snarled.
Mingana's tone matched the engineer's distaste. “Oh I highly doubt he'll be interested in visiting this area, not when he can be on the bridge keeping a keenly watchful eye on me.”
Kochran chuckled at the logic. “I guess I really don't have anything to worry about.”
***
