Things were tense on the bridge of the Fordham .
Sitting at the helm of the mighty starship, Lieutenant Junior Grade Veronica Vale sat still, awaiting her next orders. But also listening…
There wasn’t much for her to do right now. The Fordham was still in the geostationary orbit where she had parked it a couple of hours ago, above a gas giant planet the ship’s science personnel were studying.
The planet had been assigned the temporary designation AGP-U89, meaning that it was the eighty-ninth uninhabitable planet the Fordham had visited in the Andromeda Galaxy. Eventually, the Astronomical Objects Naming Committee onboard would assign it a less unwieldy name.
The results of the scans of AGP-U89, and the readouts from the probe that was launched into its atmosphere had revealed nothing startling. It was basically a sister of Jupiter, in Earth’s solar system, back home in the Milky Way, though it was slightly larger. But, like Jupiter, it was composed mostly of hydrogen and helium—the same materials as stars, except gas giants like these hadn’t grown massive enough to ignite.
Veronica had paid close attention to all of the data that had come in, which had been patched through to the bridge as well as below to the Planetary Sciences Department. She did this in part because she was very interested in astronomy and had been since she was a little girl. But she also did it because it was her intention to absorb as much information about anywhere the Fordham visited, and anything it discovered there.
It was part of a good bridge officer’s job, after all, to learn, learn, learn.
To learn as much as possible about the ship—how it was built, why it was built, and where everything was…down to the location of every janitorial supply closet.
To learn as much as possible about engineering—how emquips work, how they are powered, and what the optimal lux buffer reading was for the photon receptors.
To learn as much as possible about the ship’s crew…
There were over seventy different species onboard the Fordham . It behooved a good bridge officer to be aware of their different customs as well as their various biological needs.
And so on…
All of these examples had been mentioned to her when Commander Voss—the Fordham’s first officer—promoted her two shipmonths ago from ensign to lieutenant junior grade. And Veronica had taken them to heart.
She wanted to continue advancing up the ranks. She had a long way to go to become a Commander Voss, but she was determined to get there.
She had an even longer way to go to become a Captain Yarrum, but she was even more determined to get there . Commanding a starship had been her dream since she was seven-years-old.
Another thing Commander Voss had suggested to her was to listen to anything said on the bridge, even if it had nothing to do with helm control.
And that is what Veronica was doing now…listening.
When a starship was stopped in an unknown region of space (and all of the Andromeda Galaxy was considered unknown space), it was standard procedure to have a picket screen of starfighters helping to protect the ship. In this case, it had been Sabre Squadron that had performed that duty.
However, one of the starfighters—Sabre Seven—was overdue in her return to the Fordham , and it was causing quite a bit of tension on the bridge.
Veronica knew from her studies and experience that when any ship—starfighter, shuttle, or even another capital ship—was late rendezvousing with a starship, there was an accepted margin of time before people began to worry. Depending on the circumstances, that margin could be anywhere from minutes to hours. It accounted for unknown variables which may have caused that ship’s lateness…problems with the spacecraft; a delay in departure; even an attack by enemy forces.
Sabre Seven was eight minutes late. It didn’t seem like a lot, but in this situation, it was worrying. Presumably, that starfighter had been sent to a completely empty region of space, and should have been able to simply fly back to the Fordham once the patrol shift was done.
On the bridge was Colonel Mbuwe, who was the senior officer of Sabre Squadron. She usually remained on the bridge whenever her pilots were on screening duty.
“Any idea what could be keeping her, Colonel?” Commander Voss asked from her chair next to Captain Yarrum’s.
Mbuwe shook her head and blew out a breath.
She was a tall woman—like most starfighter pilots—and she was originally from Nigeria.
Veronica was rather intimidated by her. Mbuwe exuded such an aura of command and competence that it made a junior officer such as herself quail in her presence.
She knew that she needed to work on that. Respect and obedience towards senior officers was one thing, but being so intimidated by power that it affected her ability to think straight was quite another.
“No idea, Commander,” Mbuwe answered Voss. “Belivet was stationed three parsecs out, but so were three other pilots, and they’ve made it back. And it’s not like her to be late.”
“Helm,” Captain Yarrum said, “set a course for that pilot’s picket position; execute on my mark.”
“Aye, ma’am,” Veronica responded. The last known position of the Sabre Seven was already displayed on her tactical screen. She input that into the SHARC—Starship Helm and Response Control—system, and then told it to wait.
“We’ll give her two more minutes, Colonel,” Captain Yarrum said. “Then we’ll go looking for her ourselves.”
When the captain didn’t follow-up with anything else, Veronica decided to take a chance. Besides, Commander Voss had always taught the ensigns and LTJGs she was mentoring to be unafraid to make suggestions.
“Captain,” she said. “Recommend we prepare a messenger buoy for Sabre Seven, just in case we somehow pass each other.”
The messenger buoy would remain at this location and inform the missing starfighter pilot that the Fordham had gone looking for her.
“Excellent idea, Lieutenant,” Captain Yarrum said. “Please make it so.”
“Aye, ma’am.”
Veronica wanted to smile, but knew better not to.
She was about to input the commands to prepare the buoy when suddenly an alert tone sounded on her panel.
“Captain, Spacehawk emerging from photon thrust!” she announced. “Bearing four-four-nine, range five-hundred kilometers.”
“Four-four-nine?” Mbuwe, who was standing near the helm, muttered. “What the hell is she doing coming from that direction?”
“Captain, incoming message from the Spacehawk,” Veronica said.
“On comms,” Captain Yarrum ordered.
“ Sabre Seven to Fordham ,” the pilot’s voice said via the speakers, “ Contact! Contact! Contact! ”
Veronica’s eyes widened.
Sabre Seven was declaring that she had encountered an alien species.
In space!
That meant there was at least one other spacefaring species in the Andromeda Galaxy besides those onboard the Fordham!
Suddenly, the atmosphere on the bridge changed. It became even more tense, but this time it was also charged with a mixture of surprise and nervousness as individuals looked at one another, their faces conveying the magnitude of Sabre Seven’s message.
Only Captain Yarrum seemed unperturbed.
“Yellow alert!” she barked. “Long range scans! Let’s make sure we’re still alone.”
“Aye, Captain,” the Fordham’s chief tactical officer, Lieutenant Commander Dell, acknowledged.
“Sabre Seven is on approach, Captain,” Raya, an ensign, reported. She was a year behind Veronica in the officer training program, and was now seated at the Traffic Control station.
“I’m scanning the Spacehawk for tracking devices,” Commander Dell said. After a moment she added, “She appears clean. Captain, recommend we direct the ship to Quarantine Bay One.”
“Establish nature of contact first,” the captain replied.
“Sabre Seven, describe nature of contact,” Dell said.
“ Sabre Seven to Fordham… ” the pilot’s voice responded. “ Small vessel at plus-minus one-thousand meters. ”
“Tell her to proceed as normal,” the captain replied. “If we have to quarantine every starfighter that spots another ship in space we’ll never get anything done.”
“Aye, ma’am,” Dell said. “I’m lowering the magnetic shield for Hangar Bay One.”
Veronica noticed Colonel Mbuwe hurrying to the lift, presumably to meet her pilot in Sabre Squadron’s hangar.
“Helm,” Captain Yarrum said, “once that ship is onboard, set course…” She checked the monitor attached to her chair. “…eight-one-seven delta and initiate. Maximum speed.”
“Aye, ma’am,” Veronica acknowledged, canceling the previous course in the SHARC, and inputting the new one.
“Sabre Seven is onboard, Captain,” Raya reported. “Hangar bay is secured.”
Veronica instantly touched a flashing icon on the SHARC screen, executing the course and speed Captain Yarrum had ordered.
The starship came about to port, turning away from AGP-U89, and then the emquip engines fired up and rocketed the Fordham ahead at plus-C speed and—hopefully—away from any danger.
***
Thirty shipminutes later, Veronica was still at the helm. Her shift wouldn’t end until 17:00, and that was only if there wasn’t an emergency which would necessitate her remaining at her post past that time.
However, she was now standing, rather than sitting.
All of the stations on the bridge could be raised so that their occupants could get the benefits provided by standing instead of sitting for long periods of time.
The helm station, however, was built a little differently than the others when it came to this.
Because it was much easier for a standing being to fall in the event the Fordham were to be rocked by some kind of turbulent event—such as being struck by enemy fire—Veronica was tethered via straps to anchor points in the floor that would help her remain upright in those situations, until she was able to once again strap herself down in her seat.
The last thing a starship that was in some kind of distress needed was for the person piloting her to be flung across the bridge.
The Fordham was still traveling at plus-C, which meant all Veronica had to do was keep an ear out for any alerts the SHARC might give her, and occasionally glance over at her nav screen to make sure the ship was still on the preset course.
Other than that, she was free to do almost anything else while at her station.
In this case, she was yet again reading her Bridge Officer’s Manual.
Well…her personal AI Rosie was reading it to her, via the AI earpiece in Veronica’s left ear. Veronica had already read the manual—with her eyes—three times, cover to cover, and she knew its contents and lessons quite well. Good thing too. Commander Voss was notorious for springing surprise examinations and drills on junior officers.
While Rosie was reading to her from Chapter 14— Proper Procedures for Launching Rescue Craft to Aid Another Vessel —she was looking at the schematics for the Propulsion Engineering portion of the Fordham , which were being displayed on one of the monitors at her station.
The limited-access sections of Propulsion Engineering were a maze of conduits, crawl alleys, and overhead gantries, all of which seemed to connect or cross over one another.
They were, perhaps, the most confusing sections of the ship, in terms of an individual needing to get around.
Veronica was determined to master it, though…the same way she knew those who worked in Propulsion Engineering had it mastered. She resolved that on her next day off, she would wend her way through that maze to a predetermined point, and then try to find the quickest way back to, say, Engineering Control; or, Propulsion Maintenance.
As a bridge officer—albeit junior —she had access to many limited-access areas on the ship, and she intended on accessing them.
It was the only way to learn, learn, learn.
“ Yarrum to helm, ” the captain’s voice said from the bridge speakers. Rosie’s reading of the B.O.M ceased.
The captain, Commander Voss, and Commander Dell had left the bridge soon after the Fordham had broken orbit around AGP-U89.
“ Full stop, ” the captain ordered. “ Run a scan, then set course one-eight-nine, maximum speed, and execute. ”
“Full stop, aye,” Veronica responded, immediately dancing her fingers over the SHARC and reducing speed. “Run scan, then course one-eight-nine, maximum speed, and execute.”
The captain was zigzagging, just in case the course they had taken away from the gas giant had been observed. Now that they knew they weren’t the only ship out among the stars of Andromeda, it was proper to be cautious.
The Fordham reverted to sub-C travel. Moments later, she came to a stop.
The enormous main viewscreen showed that they had stopped in—surprise, surprise—an empty region of space. No planet, no asteroids…nothing. The nearest stars were mere pinpricks of light against the inky blackness.
Veronica stared out at all of that…emptiness.
She knew that if the Fordham were to stay right here for a billion years, it might still never be discovered. That’s how vast space was.
Her tactical display showed that Lieutenant Commander Corwin, the Chief Operations Officer, who had been left in charge of the bridge by Captain Yarrum, was running the long-range scan, as ordered by the captain, even though Veronica was more than capable of running it from her station.
Unsurprisingly, it revealed nothing.
Moments later, she had the ship traveling at plus-C speeds again.
On her comms screen, Veronica saw a text message appear. It was from the Traffic Control station, where her friend Raya was sitting.
Veronica took a glance over at Commander Corwin, and saw that she was preoccupied with looking at something on her all-in-one tablet. She then read the message…
What do you think is going on?
Veronica activated the text keyboard on the SHARC.
No idea. Obvs something about that contact.
Raya’s next message came almost immediately.
Friend or foe?
Veronica had no idea how to answer that question. The fact was, there was no way to tell. She supposed Sabre Seven’s report might provide some insight, but who knew when she’d be able to learn the details of that?
In any case, even if the contact had been hostile, the chances of them finding the Fordham were…well, astronomical. It was a big galaxy, after all.
She realized she was a bit jealous of Sabre Seven for having had the experience of encountering a spacefaring alien species. That was quite a coup. What’s more, it was exactly the type of exciting event she hoped to have herself during her career in the Unitary Navy.
Hmm…
She may not have had the chance to encounter an alien species today, but perhaps she could encounter the starfighter pilot who did. It would be interesting to chat with her, and find out how she had handled the situation, and see how it squared with protocol.
With some taps on her main control screen, she accessed the military crew roster and then filtered it for Sabre Squadron.
There it was…
Sabre 7
Lt. Jane Belivet
Call sign: Rascal .
Along with that information was a standard military ID photo of Lieutenant Jane Belivet.
Veronica cocked an eyebrow as she stared at it.
Pretty …