Jupiter Rising: The Columbus Protocols

By Sean Pól MacÚisdin

Jupiter Rising

The Columbus Protocols

PUBLISHED BY:

Sean Pól MacÚisdin on Smashwords.com

Jupiter Rising:

The Columbus Protocols

Copyright © 2013 by Sean Pól MacÚisdin

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Dedicated to my honest editor and best friend, Dixie

Chapter One

The Columbus Protocols

European Space Ship Indomptable

25 July 2071

Against the abyssal milieu, the deep nullity that fell away from the distant and lonely grandeur of Jupiter to the far reaches of the stygian emptiness, a pinpoint brilliance marked a spaceship rocketing through the darkness. From its tapered, bullet shaped bow to its boxy stern with the resplendence of its powerful antimatter engines, the ship exuded a raw sensibility of brute power and a vicious determination to employ it.

Captain Sorscha Cameron controlled her breathing as she fought against the stacked Gs of the ESS Indomptable’s powerful thrust. The entire ship was vibrating – a raucous, soul shaking rattle that gave a mild blur to everything around her and radiated a penetrating sonance that made her ears ring. She looked upon the blurred TACDIS, a three-meter-wide holographic tactical display empty of contacts save for a single blue icon estimated to be one hundred thousand kilometres or so away. She noted the thin, green PIM – the Planned Intended Movement track pointing towards the blue icon included a paragraph of data stating that the Indomptable had reached 422,399 kilometres per hour, was still increasing in speed, and was enduring a powerful 3.5 Gs of artificial gravity. The blue icon represented the elderly NASA frigate, Cabot, commanded by her friend and colleague, a Canadian named Charles Kwetche who had been tasked eleven days before to locate the source of a mysterious signal that some seven months ago had played a role in the destruction of the European cruiser, Onbevreesd.

Kwetche was now in trouble, and Cameron was racing to help him.

"Ma’am, we’re fifteen minutes away from intercepting the Cabot, her Operations Officer, a Bulgarian named Petya Todorov, reported. Her eyes focused on her glossy touch displays as she added, I recommend we reduce propulsion to manoeuvring speed in seven minutes."

Cameron gulped and stretched against the crushing Gs. Kwetche had reached the projected location of the signal hours before, a spot some fifty million kilometres from Jupiter. He wasn’t the only one out there though, for somewhere hidden in the darkness was the antiquated United Nations cruiser, Audentia, commanded by an expatriate Martian named MacCrimmon-Tsai. It turned out that she was a well-paid renegade. The ship was seemingly under the control of Finlaycorp, a massive multinational conglomerate that had its fingers in projects throughout the Jovian system and deep in UNISEA, the United Nations Interstellar Stellar Exploration Agency.

Captain, EW, an operator called out as the icon of the Cabot suddenly shifted and took on an amorphous blue glow, "new contact bearing ship relative red seven declination negative nine. Contact is a Raytheon short range sensor, active for 2.9 seconds. Confirmed that this is Cabot’s short range sensor, ma’am."

Very guid, Cameron replied, her voice tight and shaking from the Gs and vibrations of the ship. Communications. A tone chimed in in her earbud. "Try tae establish a datalink wi’ the Cabot."

Aye, ma’am.

Moments later, the blue icon shifted slightly, and a second icon, red to indicate hostile, appeared near it.

Help me boab! What the hell is that? Cameron snapped at Todorov.

"Inputted icon from the Cabot, ma’am. A moment more, Computer generated image now, ma’am. A new window appeared on the TACDIS revealing a massive diamond framed structure five hundred meters in width and three hundred meters in height. On each point of the diamond shape was a massive, boxy structure. Proklinam, Todorov whispered in awe as she switched to her native tongue. It appears to be some kind of array."

Aye, Cameron said as she gazed upon it. Range tae it?

We are 139,044 kilometres and closing, ma’am.

EW, Cameron called out to the operators on the far left of the Operations Room, are we picking up anything from that object?

Negative, ma’am.

Cameron had no communications with Kwetche. She was still trying to run silent – no sensors, no communications, nothing to tip her presence to the hidden Audentia. How much longer should she hold out?

Reaction control system, reduce propulsion to a manoeuvring setting of two-zero percent on the cores.

RCS, aye.

The artificial gravity began to fall off and the vibrations and noise subsided. Cameron noted they were now ten minutes away from the Cabot. The blue icon on the TACDIS assumed a new glow and the EW operator sang out, "New contacts! Short range sensors, long range sensors and fire control sensors are radiating, ma’am. Cabot just lit herself up." A second red icon appeared, and then a third nearly beside the mysterious object.

New hostile, designate as Hostile Zero-One, Todorov called out. "Identified as Fearless class cruiser, Audentia, ma’am. Range is 146,003 kilometres and closing! Second hostile, designate as Hostile Zero-Two is Petrolero class tanker identified as Suministro De! She’s in a holding position five kilometres in front of the array!"

Aye, well that explains where the missing tanker is. Cameron tightened the five-point harness on her chair. Four weeks before, the tanker had disappeared, and she and Kwetche had surmised that the Audentia had needed fuel. OPSO, load A and B railgun batteries, 40mm, set at alternating flak and High Explosive Point Detonation settings.

Aye, ma’am. A moment later familiar and comforting thuds resonated as belted ammunition was fed into the cruiser’s twin 40mm Gatling railguns.

OPS, Cameron continued as her eyes narrowed at the two icons now within a few thousand kilometres of each other and beginning to jink aggressively in a firefight, cycle power tae the laser array and set full power setting o’ 4.1 megawatts. Bring the ERAS online.

Full power is cycle to laser array. Todorov’s voice was breathless with fear and anger. Cooling systems set on full and Electromagnetic Reactive Armour System online.

"Captain, Comms, we are picking up several EPIRBs registered to the Cabot."

Aye. Cameron nodded, a small smile of satisfaction crossing her thin lips. "Cabot has fired them off through Audentia’s jamming. The entire solar system will know what’s happening in thirty minutes."

The Operations Room assumed a new level of tension with each face a mask of studious anxiety and growing rage. They were minutes away now.

Captain, EW. The array is beginning to emit electromagnetic energy.

Cameron studied the new data on the TACDIS. The electromagnetic levels were unbelievable and growing in power. EW, monitor and report.  The TACDIS indicated that they were 75,011 kilometres from the Cabot and closing rapidly. The frigate had held its own against the Audentia, and Cameron toyed with flashing her sensors and revealing herself. Would the Audentia flee? It didn’t matter if she did, Indomptable was racing towards the two ships at double their speed.

Captain, EW, electromagnetic energy is spiking.

"The Audentia is falling back from the Cabot, Todorov reported. They must see what is happening."

Captain, EW, another massive spike in power output.

Losh! What the hell is happening? She was interrupted by Todorov.

New contact, designate Hostile Zero-Three, has just emerged from the array!

Cameron could see the appearance of the new icon from Cabot’s datalink. A new window appeared, and a computer-generated image of a massive wing shaped vehicle travelling at 600,000 kph was revealed.

Michty me, Cameron whispered, her stomach a sudden mass of knots and her hands shaking as waves of fear rolled over her. One thought obscured all others as she stared at the fast-moving icon. That is an alien ship! OPSO, all sensors tae radiate. Maximum jamming on that ship and lock all weapons!

Aye, ma’am!

A second icon appeared briefly then disappeared as it merged with the icon of the tanker, Suministro De.

"Gluposti! Todorov said with a spurt of excitement. A second alien ship has collided with the tanker!"

I see it, OPS, Cameron replied. She tapped her earbud. XO!

HQ1, XO here, ma’am.

XO. Cameron’s voice was shaking. We have a situation here. We have an alien craft with us.

Say again.

Crivvens, Neil, we have an alien out here. It may get hot in a few minutes!

There was a maddening pause, then a calm voice said, HQ1 is standing by.

Thanks for that, Neil, Cameron replied softly.

The icon of Hostile Zero-Three was closing on the Audentia. For a minute, Cameron watched the two tangle while the tension in Ops was nearly overwhelming. Then the icon of the Audentia vanished.

"Audentia is gone, ma’am," Todorov said as she stared at the TACDIS in disbelief. Silence ensued with knowledge nearly overpowering in its implication. Not only was there an alien ship out here, but now it was hostile.

Hostile and powerful.

Sorscha! The voice of Commander Charles Kwetche echoed through a blanket of jamming static. "I’m initiating Columbus Protocols! We have an alien ship out here! We are in very, very deep shit! Audentia has just been destroyed and they’re coming after us!"

Cameron tapped her earbud and chose the tactical Task Group Reporting communication channel. Charles! Charles, just hold on! We’ll be there in four minutes! Hold on for four minutes!

I’ll try, Sorscha! Kwetche’s voice disappeared into the static.

"Hostile Zero-Three is closing the Cabot, ma’am!"

Aye, I see it, OPS, Cameron responded softly.

The Cabot was jinking wildly – rolling, banking, diving and rising as she sought to escape her powerful attacker. Cameron watched the incredible dogfight, one whose only outcome would be the death of the Cabot. Every few moments she broke her gaze to look at the range – it was diminishing, but too slowly. Three minutes, she thought, as Cabot weaved and dove out of the stellar plane, the alien ship so close that it could not miss. Two minutes, and the Cabot rose and banked hard to the right with the alien ship soaring passed and surprised by the sudden alteration. One minute now and the Cabot rolled and banked to the left, and dove. The alien ship was close, close enough to fire. Suddenly, the Cabot seemed out of control and most of her sensors disappeared.

"Cabot has been hit very hard, ma’am," Todorov reported.

Aye. Cameron clenched her teeth. So she has. Let’s make up for it. Standby tae fire all weapons. Any fear was gone, replaced by an icy resolve to help her friend and to hit back. She glanced at the icon of the Cabot and noted she was diving out of control.

Fuck! Cameron watched the symbol of the Cabot fall away towards the stellar plane. OPSO! Give that son o’ bitch something tae think about! Weapons free!

Aye, ma’am! Laser array, fire! Port and starboard batteries, fire! Todorov called out breathlessly.

From Indomptable’s bullet shaped bow a brilliant beam of scorching light was emitted followed by the popping flash of her 40mm Gatling railguns. The laser sliced across the alien’s hull while the flak rounds exploded like starbursts before the alien ship.

Direct hit! Todorov’s voice was now shaking with excitement.

Keep hitting them! Cameron yelled as she slammed her fist on her chair arm.

Indomptable banked hard to the right and fired again. The powerful laser slicing into the alien that sought to open the range from its surprisingly aggressive opponent. Suddenly it spun on its axis and fired. Cameron felt her ship shudder.

Ops, HQ-1! Drummond’s voice was incredulous. Dorsal hull breach on Deck One, section three, ma’am!

Roger, Number One! To Todorov she said, Hit them, Todorov!

Indomptable’s 40mm railgun rounds were useless against the fleeing craft, but her laser array was not. The cruiser fired and the beam cut across the alien’s stern. The alien ship banked right and fired back, trading deadly punches with the powerful Indomptable.

Cameron gritted her teeth as the hull shook around her. The alien was inflicting a lot of punishment, but she knew deep down they were giving as good as they got.

Keep at them, Todorov! Cameron ignored the flurry of damage reports coming from Drummond, the sudden cascading red messages on her small translucent Damage Control Stateboard. There was no time now. She had to concentrate on taking the alien out. OPSO! Take us on a closing course! I want tae pass within one hundred meters o’ that bastard!

Aye, ma’am!

Indomptable banked to the left and dove, her bow spewing sting after sting into the reeling alien ship.

Set the forties to point detonation instead of flak!

Indomptable dashed through the darkness, her bow illuminated as she fired. The alien responded, closing the distance and firing its lasers. Cameron leaned towards her OPSO as the ship shook around them, Close as you can. Her eyes watched the kilometres between the two adversaries tick away. Suddenly she slapped Todorov on the back, Now! Fire the forties!

From receptacles on Indomptable’s lateral engine nacelles, the five-barrelled Gatling railguns fired a blinding stream of shells that cut the distance to the alien ship in seconds. The alien realized the danger too late and it banked hard, but still a dozen high explosive rounds with tungsten tips punched through the left wing of the massive hull and shredded it in a dazzling explosion that threw the alien ship into a wild spin. With agonizing slowness, the alien seemed to correct the spin, but the horrible damage was too great as it spewed out a grotesque contrail of gas and plasma. A sudden brilliant flash and a bubble of light announced the alien’s sudden demise.

Yes! Cameron shrieked while slapping Todorov. "Guid job everyone. OPSO! Bring us tae a deceleration course and take us tae the Cabot!"

* * * * *

The light above the airlock flashed green, and Cameron slapped the door controls. Inside the hanger, she saw the sphere of the inflatable life pod hovering in the zero gravity, and she stepped aside to allow her medical team through. Within a minute the life pod was opened, and after nearly two days of waiting while the Indomptable decelerated to match its speed, the occupants were slowly eased out. The wounded emerged first, seven of them, some with cuts, and some with broken bones. They were quickly spirited off to the Sick Bay. Others followed, and then Cameron recognized Lieutenant-Commander Catherine Davies from MI5. Gone was the haughty Artemis of British Intelligence – a stunning beauty with an arrogance to match. Davies was battered and pale, and when she saw Cameron tears filled her eyes.

Captain, you’re a sight for sore eyes.

Away wi’ you, she said as she embraced her briefly. Cameron motioned for a crewmember to lead Davies out and when she turned back to the life pod. Commander Charles Kwetche emerged. It took him a moment to compose himself then he pushed himself off the life pod towards Cameron.

Thank you, Sorscha, he said miserably as Cameron placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him close.

There’s no’ another life pod but yours, Charles.

I know, he replied brokenly. A pause, then, I lost them, Sorscha.

Aye, we all did, Charles.

SASS Caracas

27 July 2071

Capitán de Navío Corina Sacramento loved nothing better during the long evenings of drift flight, to curl up in her zero G sleeping bag with a bag of buttered popcorn and a movie. Tonight, it was Deus e o Diabo na Terra do Sol, one of her favourites and one she had not seen in six months. The movie library on the Caracas was extensive, but her tastes were and it meant that she ultimately watched movies over and over and reread books.

That had not been difficult on this mission, for the Caracas had been deployed to the Jupiter Trojan asteroid, 659 Nestor, nearly seven months before. The drift flight was most exhaustive, nearly three months out and three months back. Half of the crew at any time was in hypersleep, six weeks on and six weeks in blissful somnolence. All except Sacramento, the price of command was to endure the full seven months awake. The mission on the asteroid itself had taken all of four weeks. Intensive surveys, tunnelling, mining, and exploring of the tiny rock. They had hoped against hope that the unmanned preliminary survey had been correct and that this asteroid would prove to be an economic boon to the South American Union, and it had. Palladium, rhodium, tungsten, copper, nickel, even gold had been found in amounts that made the time and distance needed to extract the riches an economically lucrative proposition. 

That was ten weeks ago, and the Caracas had been in drift flight since. They were less than two weeks away from Europa, a vast relief really, because the Caracas needed an overhaul after so much time away. Sacramento ate a handful of popcorn. As she allowed herself this rare enjoyment, her techs were working to restore Caracas’ Link 277 system, and her primary and secondary communications arrays. Everything had failed four days ago, a cascading breakdown that had left the ship deaf and unable to communicate with Space Station Stikine in orbit above Europa. She knew it must be worrying for the station, and she had done what she could to transmit a message before the system failed completely. Now her techs were pulling double duty to get the communications back up because Corina Sacramento knew there was trouble in the Jovian system.

The European cruiser, ESS Onbevreesd, deployed on a mission to alter the course of comet Williams-Foster 26 away from the Jovian system, had disappeared seven months before. There had been no messages and no survivors, just a couple of seconds from an EPIRB before it too disappeared. Rasia Osmuska had commanded the ship, an old friend and one she had worked closely with during her months in the Jovian system. Osmuska was no fool and she wouldn’t have pushed her ship beyond what it was capable of. Something had happened, something unforeseen, maybe something sinister.

Throughout her long mission, Sacramento had nurtured this thought. She had nothing to go on, no evidence, not even a motive. NASA had sent out a crew to reactivate the old frigate, Cabot, deployed years before as a rescue ship but sitting unused at Space Station Stikine since. They had come out onboard the European antimatter cruiser, Indomptable, and over the last few months, had managed to locate the Onbevreesd’s remains. The conclusion reached by the Cabot’s captain, a Canadian named Charles Kwetche, was that the ship had been attacked. Sacramento had received a lengthy message from the British Intelligence Officer with MI5, Lieutenant-Commander Catherine Davies. In it she detailed the discovery of the Onbevreesd, the evidence of an attack, and the fact that the Audentia had been ruled out because her weapons were too inferior for the damage unleashed on the cruiser. Davies suggested the possibility of a rogue ship, and that Audentia and her captain, the Martian expat MacCrimmon-Tsai, were still somehow involved. It also appeared that NASA was concerned enough to deploy the antimatter cruiser, Intrepid, and to convince the Pacific Space Agency to assist by sending out their new antimatter cruiser, Yamato. They were less than four weeks away now, and Davies had been deliberate in saying that whatever was going to happen, would happen before they arrived.

Something had happened weeks before Davies had sent her message, a Serious Incident Report detailing the loss of antimatter containment on the Indomptable while the ship was alongside Stikine. Was it an inexplicable accident or was sabotage the actual cause? There were so many safeguards on an antimatter core that it was hard not to suppose so. Fortunately, the cruiser had broken away from the station and ejected its engine core, but it had been close – too close. The weeks since had been used to replace the core and wait for the Antimatter Production Facility on the moon of Amalthea to create a new supply.

Sacramento ate more popcorn and then paused the movie on her computer display. She was distracted by the events, the insinuations, and the innuendo. Being deaf with the communications failures was not helping. An update from Lieutenant-Commander Davies had revealed that the UN cruiser Audentia, thought to be on a mission to replenish the science mission on asteroid 1998 HO121, was using a drone to deceive all the worlds of her true intent. She was out here somewhere, and Sacramento was very cognizant that her ship and crew were now at risk.

Rubbing her fingers through her fine, cropped hair, Sacramento allowed the bag of popcorn to drift before her. Her appetite was gone. That’s a good thing her medic would say, for she was some five kilograms overweight after seven months in space. It was the popcorn and butter, she concluded with the makings of a smile – a guilty pleasure that her husband and children teased her about constantly when she was on leave in Teresina in Brazil. The hammock and the bowl, her husband would say as she rested beneath the carnaúba palms on their property. Add the port, her favourite nightcap during the long weeks of drift flight, and with the lack of gravity and steady exercise, it went straight to her waistline.

Sacramento wriggled out of her G-bag and pulled on her flight suit. A pair of magnetic boots followed as she drifted in her cabin, then a toque. The ship was cold, around eight degrees Celsius, to reduce power consumption. She put on a ship’s jacket to combat the chill, and then pulled her way out of her cabin. The passageways were dim, lit only by emergency lighting, and they were empty. It was 23:40 in the evening and half of her crew of sixty-two was in hypersleep while those were off watch and in their G-bags. It took her minutes to get to the Operations Room with its quiet yet sedulous attention to the ship and her systems. Her Navigator, a compact and studious man named Garbajosa, had the watch. He was intent upon updating the ship’s position manually from the NAVSTAR Stellar Positioning System, so he missed the arrival of his captain until she cleared her throat. How do we look, Christobal?

Garbajosa glanced up and frowned. "Good evening, Capitàn, we are on course and following our Planned Intended Movement. However, without a coherent datalink I cannot measure the Doppler shift to get an update on our velocity and I cannot determine distance without a ranging pulse on the datalink to Space Station Stikine. I have reviewed our OPNAV files and the projected optical images we downloaded before we left Stikine and compared them to the images I took with our optical array an hour ago and they say we are on track. I recommend tomorrow, however, a minor course alteration to compensate for an early shutdown of thrusters from our last course change. No more than thirty seconds or so with the maneuvering thrusters and main propulsion."

"Plan on it, Piloto, for tomorrow afternoon. Sacramento yawned. How are the repairs coming?"

I was told by the Chief Engineer that we should have communications back within the hour, but the Link 277 system will take longer.

Sacramento nodded in approval. She needed those communications, if only to find out what was happening. If only she carried a communications drone, she could have launched that and reestablished at least a basic link to the outside world. They had been landed, however, to make room for the equipment needed for the survey. That will go in my Post Deployment Report, she thought. She had kicked herself for the oversight, but the good news of having her radios back soon was removing most of her contrition. She spared the TACDIS a glance, and save for the PIM, a thin blue line leading to Europa, there was nothing on the display. No sensor contacts, active or passive, and certainly no link to Stikine’s Recognized Stellar Plot.

"Piloto, I will be in the Wardroom getting a cup of coffee. Have the Chief Engineer call me when he has our communications back online."

"Aye, Capitàn," Garbajosa replied with a casual salute.

* * * * *

Sacramento had only settled down to her cup of coffee when Garbajosa contacted her to report the long-range communications were back online. She took her coffee up to Ops where the Chief Engineer, a thin, weedy man with a notorious temper and rare talent for propulsion systems, was checking the communications systems with her Chief Communicator in the Communications Control Room.

"Capitán de Fragata Zabaleta, Sacramento said between sips as she entered, I am told we have comms back?"

Zabaleta had a pair of the thickest eyebrows Sacramento had ever seen and they augmented his perpetually sour demeanour.

"Aye, Capitàn, he replied with a dismissive wave to the displays, we have them for a while. I have used the last of our spare components to get the system up, but I cannot guarantee that it will stay up."

"I understand, Motores, she said soothingly, trying to mollify him. We are two weeks back from an overhaul, and four months after that, we return to Earth."

"Aye, Capitàn," Zabaleta nodded.

However, Sacramento patted the man’s arm, at home, saints never perform miracles.

Zabaleta smiled, and Sacramento witnessed one of those rare moments when the man’s eyes twinkled in amusement. The saint is suspicious of too many sacrifices. I will be content with boredom and a month on the beaches of the Buzios peninsula.

"Capitàn, interrupted her Communications Chief, a young, portly woman named Prestes, there is a Priority One message for you in the message queue. Eyes only," she added with some surprise.

If you will excuse me. The pair exited the CCR. Sacramento inputted her access code, and the video message appeared on a display. It was the ESS Indomptable’s captain, Sorscha Cameron, and she looked terrible.

Corina, I know you have some comms issues, so I really hope you are getting this sooner rather than later. I am instituting the Columbus Protocols. I repeat, I am instituting the Columbus Protocols. We have encountered two alien ships, both o’ which have been destroyed. However, we lost the Cabot, the Audentia, and the Suministro De in the process. I will send you the details in a SEPCOR message in the next forty-eight hours. I am also taking command o’ the Task Group. Commodore Keersmaekers has resigned his position. My orders tae you are as follows. Assume DEFCON Two and Emission Control One – go silent, Corina, we have no idea if there are more out here. Second, I need you tae alter course for the moon o’ Himalia. I want the science station personnel and as much equipment as possible evacuated. We’re pulling everything back tae Europa in case we need tae make a stand. I’m tasking the Yamato tae 1998 HO121 tae pick up the science station crew and equipment. Intrepid will join us at Europa. I will be returning wi’ the Indomptable as soon as I undertake repairs and secure the area. Probably about the same time you arrive at Himalia. I need you back as soon as possible, so refuel from the station tanks there. I know it’s slow, but we’re low on assets. Get back tae Europa as soon as you can, Corina, and for God’s sake, be careful.

Cameron rubbed a shaking hand across her face.

Jesus, Corina, the alien ships are powerful, very powerful. Be ready. Cameron, out.

Sacramento sat back in her chair. Fear, like she had never felt before rolled over her like a wave. The Columbus Protocols – hostile alien first contact. She lowered her head into her hands; aliens in the Jovian system! For a moment, she allowed the feelings to ravage her, allowed them to manifest themselves in panic. Then with an effort, she banished them and mastered her emotions. She was the captain of a South American cruiser and she could not afford to lose control. She unfastened the harness on her chair and pulled herself into Ops. Zabaleta and Prestes were waiting near Garbajosa, exchanging small talk as they waited for their captain. Sacramento was silent for a moment as she fought to control her sudden weakness and the tremor in her voice. Finally, she cleared her throat. "Piloto, bring the ship to DEFCON Two and assume EMCON One. Then have all crew pulled from hypersleep."

For a moment silence greeted her orders, then Garbajosa said, "Aye, Capitàn." He began issuing orders while Zabaleta pulled his way to stand before Sacramento.

"What has happened, Capitàn?"

Sacramento studied the man for a moment. Dour, always cross, but a brilliant engineer. Just the man she wanted looking after the Caracas’ propulsion system in the weeks and months to come.

We are at war, Baldovino. The Columbus Protocols have been initiated.

"Oh mi dios, Zabaleta said. His façade cracked for a moment, and Sacramento saw real fear in the man’s eyes. Just as quickly, however, the walls went back up. So be it," he said before turning to make his way to his place in the Propulsion Control Room.

So be it, Sacramento repeated.

ESS Indomptable

29 July 2071

Lieutenant Albert Dyson glanced at the six members of his boarding party then licked a ball of sweat from his lips. He wished he could wipe his face, for the sheen of sweat beneath his exposure