Until the Dawn, page 5
"Any of those ships could be carrying missiles," Norris noted. "Probably all of them are." He paused for a moment and then pointed at Melissa. "Shut down the scanning computer for now. You were using it at Khyber Base right before they started bombing us." He sat down at Trey Rem's station and began typing furiously.
"What are you doing?" Aaron asked curiously.
"Plotting a transit out of here!" the Captain replied. "Get us underway. We're not built for major combat and I'm not going to just hand this ship and its people over to the Brotherhood. They've got enough of an advantage as things stand now!"
"PTP computer is ready, sir." Aaron reported. "May I ask where we're going?"
"Where I was going to send the shuttles," Norris said fiercely. "We're going to see who's waiting for us at Neptune."
* * *
The reddish-hued radiation cloud that surrounded Neptune was supposedly a temporary presence. William Norris had once seen the planet from a distance while on a passenger liner as a child. He remembered looking out the window next to his seat at its curved, sunlit crescent edge and wondering if it would be possible to walk on the surface of a gas giant. Everyone knew the area was rumored to be an official base and probably had at least one colony hidden on a moon somewhere, controlled by the American military.
The Waywardsman completed its faster than light wormhole transit a fair distance away, but still close enough so that telescopes in the Observatory wing could transmit the image to the Command Dome's monitors. Everything looked peaceful and quiet.
"Melissa, please reactivate our motion sensors," the Captain ordered. "Tell us what you see." There was a long pause, and – from her position across from Aaron, he could see Melissa working hurriedly to comply.
"I've got lots of targets circling the nebula, none of which are transmitting friendly IDs," she reported a moment later. "There are at least two large warships and twenty or so of the smaller fighters surrounding them. I'm also getting intermittent signals from within the radiation cloud itself. It's quite possible that they are additional enemy ships, but they could just as easily be friendlies too. I have no way to determine who is who unless we move in closer. There's too much interference caused by the radiation in that cloud."
"I'd like to help you, Admiral Henry, but we're a sitting duck out here," Norris said softly to himself. "God forgive me, but this is not a military vessel. We have no way of getting through those enemy ships." He activated a fresh set of PTP coordinates. "Aaron, please take us to our next destination," he ordered. "It's well outside our solar system, there's nothing significant of any kind there, and we should be able to hold still long enough for your brother to complete his work. Hopefully he won't be too irked if we complete one more transit to protect the Waywardsman."
"Aye, sir," Aaron acknowledged grimly.
Reality Check
UNTIL THE DAWN
Chapter III: Reality Check
* * *
After the most recent transit, things had finally settled down enough for the Captain to order a shift change. Melissa Hastings entered the officer's quarters that had been assigned to her for the duration of the project. She could only imagine what all of the other team members were going through… many of them had brought immediate family members along to their posting at Khyber Base. Whoever was assigning quarters to the hurriedly evacuated population had their hands full today, that was for sure.
Melissa sat down on her bed and let out a deep breath, then actually took the time to relax a bit. She still wasn't sure just what the hell was going on, but it was obvious that everything after today would be vastly different. Would the human race survive? She thought back to the video feeds they'd watched earlier of the Earth being bombed with nuclear devices and shivered.
Next she glanced over toward the computer station on her desktop and shook her head with frustration. Normally she'd be using it to tune into the news feeds and hear what was going on back home. Not today, she thought idly. Picking up a small remote control, she activated the monitor and flipped through the channel settings. Each and every one of them was filled with non-stop static. Unbelievable – not one of the dozens of channels she had access to was able to broadcast anything detectable. Even at this distance from the sun, she should be picking up something from the relay satellites.
She jumped slightly as her door chime sounded. She waited almost a full minute, using the time to put her emotional shields back in place before calling out, "Come in."
The door slid open and her good friend Specialist Greg Fredericks walked in. He was a tall, powerful man with graying hair and he smiled warmly at her as he gave her a reassuring hug. "It's quite the situation we've got going, isn't it?"
"I don't completely know how to handle this," she replied. "It all happened so quickly that I don't think most people have had time to really think about everything that's happened!"
"I know," Greg replied briskly. "Everyone's either too shook up to keep their attention focused on their work, or else they're working their tails off and I have to remind them every few minutes to slow down and not get reckless."
"How's the work going down in the hangar bay?" she asked.
"Well, the shuttles are up and running," Greg replied. "They've been reinitialized with a simplified version of the Waywardsman's navigation program. But I still don't know what to do about the fighters. They don't have PTP capability and the new program is quite probably incompatible." He hugged her again and lightly massaged her shoulders. "It would be easier if Trey hadn't been reassigned," he decided. "That's why I'm here. I get a quick thirty minute break to eat and then I'm on my way to the Lab wing to join Mr. Rem and company. The rest of our staff will be working long into the night to get both fighters and shuttles back up and running."
"This is so awful," Melissa said, feeling helpless. "With a communications blackout in effect I can't even try to contact my family!" she declared. "How are we supposed to know if our loved ones survived?"
"From what I've heard, our passive sensors aren't detecting any communications at all," Greg pointed out. "That means we have to wait, because there's nothing more we can do."
"You'd better get something to eat," Melissa insisted. "Thirty minutes isn't a long time for a break." She kissed him firmly on the cheek.
"You're right, as usual," he said, smiling. "I think Trey has his hands full with that CAS program. I'll go grab a bite and then give him a hand with the calibration procedures."
"Please check back when you're through," Melissa requested. "I don't go back to work until tomorrow morning and I'm going to be sitting here scared to death, wondering what's going on."
"Then don't sit here all alone," he suggested, standing in the open doorway. "I saw Liane a while back. Why don't you find Jillian and the three of you can spend some time checking out the ship. If I were you, I'd go visit the habitats in the "Livestock" wing. You can watch and feed the animals until bedtime. It will take your mind off of all the bad stuff for a while, at least."
"You're starting to sound like my father," she said, blushing. "Knock it off, buster." Her smile faded and she thought a moment. "But it is a good idea," she decided. "I might just have to do that."
"Great, then I won't have to worry about you!" Greg replied. "I will stop by and check in tomorrow. Good night, Melissa." She watched the door close behind him, wondering if her world would ever be the same.
* * *
Norris had been sitting in his own quarters reading up on the Waywardsman's current status for some time. He sat back and shut off the workstation monitor on his desk, rubbing his forehead to try and ease his slight headache. Considering the events of the day, he felt pretty good overall. He was thinking seriously about whether or not to continue reading when the door to his quarters slid open. A nervous looking, freckle-faced twelve-year old boy walked in, smiling as soon as he saw that William was in.
"Dad!" he exclaimed, running over and hugging Norris tightly.
"Hello, James." William replied. He hugged his son back and ruffled his wavy dark hair. "Did the teachers get everyone's kids accounted for?"
"Yes," James responded. "Mrs. Anderson was a little grumpy at first, but some of the other kids hadn't heard the news yet. Once everyone understood we were under attack and needed to get to safety, everyone pretty much cooperated."
"Lots of the children are still pretty young. I would imagine that it's going to be hard for some of the parents to decide just exactly what to tell them."
"I know," James said. "The teachers are planning to hold a special meeting tomorrow in one of the classrooms. They're sending E-Notes to all the parents and inviting them to come. Mrs. Andrews said that if we all talk about it together as a group, then it'll make it easier for the parents to finish talking about it in private." He twisted his tall, spindly body around, glancing at the wall behind his father's desk. "You put my picture up!" he declared proudly.
"Of course I did. You're quite the artist," William replied. He looked at his son's hastily-framed rough sketch of the Waywardsman and chuckled. But you did goof up on that rear landing skid, kiddo. The front of it looks a little bit like a cat's paw."
James's Waywardsman Sketch
"It's a great sketch and you know it!" James giggled, smacking his Dad on the shoulder. "The teacher said that during the next art class I get to try and draw one of the fighters!" His expression became concerned. "That is, if we're going to have classes after tomorrow."
"Yes we are," decided William. "We've been planning to take the ship on a two-month voyage to fully test out her key systems anyway. I think the best thing for everybody right now is to have something to do. I don't know how long it will be until we can return to Khyber Base or Earth… we need to assess the damage first and determine the status of our enemies. That means the last thing we need right now is everybody sitting around all day with nothing to do but worry."
"Everybody is scared, real scared," James told him, frowning. "The adults are trying to hide it, but you can see it in their faces." He looked at his Dad, who responded by smiling warmly back at him.
"I know, son," William said firmly but gently. "That's because a lot of scary things happened all at once. Everybody's been running their tails off making sure their jobs are done and their families are safe." He reached across his son's lap and turned the workstation back on. "And…" he said, grinning, "Everybody needs to relax a little bit. So the first thing that you and I are going to do tonight before people start going to bed is to cheer them up a little bit." He pointed at the words on his screen. "Read that for me please, and let's see how well you do as a temporary Captain, my boy."
* * *
Melissa was on her way back to her quarters after spending time in the Livestock wing with friends, just as Greg had suggested. The activity had cheered her up some, and she sure had enjoyed seeing horses again. If their stay on the ship lasted long enough, she had decided to make a point of scheduling time to actually grab a saddle and go riding.
There certainly was enough room on the vast interior of the Livestock wing's inner surface. And – if she got bored with the limited riding area – all she'd have to do would be to walk across the catwalk to the opposite side of the wing where the gravity was reversed and the rest of the animals were stored. She was nearly to her door when a soft chime sounded.
"Attention everybody," said a nervous voice erupting unexpectedly from a nearby wall speaker. "This is acting Captain James Norris speaking."
Melissa couldn't help it, she giggled out loud as she realized that the Captain's son was using the all-call.
"My Dad wants… uhm… asked me to let you know that everything is okay," James continued. "We haven't heard anything further from Earth, but the Waywardsman is in good shape. He says he has a lot of faith in all of the talented people assigned to this project, and we're going to find a way out of this. So we've decided that everyone who's currently off duty should get their butts to bed and get some rest…" There was a brief pause, and Melissa could hear William laughing in the background. "And that's a direct order from your temporary Captain." The wall speaker promptly went silent.
Melissa laughed out loud as she opened the door to her quarters. After all the things that had happened today, she wouldn't have thought anything else could possibly catch her by surprise. But that little trick from father and son had certainly done just that. She made a mental note to stop criticizing Norris for reading up on Psychology in his spare time.
* * *
Promptly at 7:00 a.m. the next morning, Captain Norris and his senior officers gathered for a status meeting in one of the Waywardsman's observation domes. Aaron Rem was the last to arrive, since he had been assigned to gather each division's status reports and organize them into an overall summary. He ignored the smell of coffee – man, what he wouldn't give for a donut right about now – and sat down next to Melissa. Among the other officers present she also recognized Colonel Emerson and Dr. Simon.
"For the purposes of rumor control," William stated, "This will be an open forum. At the conclusion of our discussion, transcripts of this meeting will be distributed to any interested party." He took a sip of coffee. "That being said, is it good news or bad, Aaron?"
"Mostly good, sir," Aaron replied. "All Project Team members and their families have been assigned to quarters." He glanced at the hastily printed list in front of him. "Total head count is 897, with 72 of those assigned to Colonel Emerson's company of Marines."
"That's the really good news," Murray spoke up. "I can have my troops maintain around the clock security on all of the ship's critical areas. The crew and passengers will see us… but as long as they behave themselves, that will be the extent of it."
"Good," replied William. "Since we can handle as many as 1,200 passengers we're in no danger of over-crowding."
"Trey is still working on the CAS software," Aaron responded. "From what he said after working through the night, they're very close. They actually generated a singularity earlier this morning for approximately thirty seconds." He paused, checking his notes carefully. "The shuttles are up and running, four of which are currently out on patrol as per your orders, sir. They're attempting to get as close to Earth as possible. Two of them are due back within the hour."
"And then we'll know how bad we got hit," William commented. "What about the fighters?"
"That project is progressing and that's all I want to say for now," decided Aaron. "There are earlier versions of the software stored in our computer system. We're trying to find an update that was issued before the 'backdoor virus' first appeared. If we can't, we may end up having to assign Trey and friends to review the current code and see if they can correct it." He shrugged. "Either way, I'd say the fighters are out of commission for at least seven… maybe ten days."
"That's not good news," the Captain said grimly. "Since the Waywardsman itself is for the most part unarmed, we can't put a single fighting ship in the air until well after the primary attack is over."
"There is a bright side," Aaron said. "Normally we have a complement of twelve fighter craft aboard. One of them developed computer problems a month ago and was transferred to the Avenger during its last orbit of our base. That means we should be down to eleven fighters." He paused, smiling. "But I found out from one of our deckhands that the Avenger's crew has been working on maintenance to its landing bay… plus they were asked to haul a substantial amount of cargo back to Tauron, So her Commander asked if we would store half a dozen of his fighters on the Waywardsman until their planned return trip next week. I guess he needed to free up some room."
"Seventeen?" guessed Melissa.
"That's right. We have seventeen fighters on board," Aaron confirmed wryly. "None of which can fly yet."
"Hold the pessimism please, my friend," chuckled Norris, holding up a cautious left hand. "I'll take what I can get, at this point."
"As far as ordnance goes, we should be okay for some time. The shuttles each have a rail cannon mounted on their dorsal hull, and the fighters, once up and running, are fully combat capable. Hopefully we won't see a lot of action, but if we run out of bullets we can always use the manufacturing facility in the Lab wing to melt down our old silverware."
Norris laughed again, and this time everyone at the table joined in. "Okay, I guess under the circumstances we'll permit some pessimism, as long as it's subtle."
"All of the Marines are armed with side arms and rifles," Colonel Emerson pointed out. "We were able to bring our ordnance stores aboard along with some of the heavier stuff prior to the evacuation. So you've also got a limited ground force capability at your disposal if we manage to approach Earth."
"Which brings us to fuel," continued Aaron. "I was hoping we'd be better off in this category… but our tanks are only 65% full. That's enough to keep the support ships up and running for almost six months, but not if the Waywardsman continues to use it."
