Curiosity: The Crossing — Chapter One

Year: 2254

‘Life support down to thirty-eight per cent. Shields at twenty-three per cent. More torpedoes incoming.’

Tactical Officer LeBrahm barely had time to finish her report when another volley of plasma torpedoes crashed into the starboard hull, jolting the ship and almost knocking her off her feet. She clasped the tactical station tightly with her right hand whilst quickly tapping her console with her left hand. The targeting sensors flickered on and offline as auxiliary power fluctuated and as engineering attempted to compensate for the damaged arrays.

‘Dammit!’ She smacked the rail hard. ‘I can’t get a lock on them. They’re moving too quickly.’

Captain Starzek nodded and addressed her Chief Operations Officer. ‘Jones, can you divert as much power to the shields as you can spare without affecting life support?’

‘Aye, Captain.’ He got to work.

Starzek turned to her First Officer. ‘I want everybody evacuated to the secondary hull. Go to the aux bridge and oversee it from there. Take LeBrahm. We’ll join you once you’re in place.’

Commander Tanesh nodded and waved Tactical Officer LeBrahm to follow him to the lift as the Captain rose from her seat and headed for the tactical station.

‘Shields at thirty-one per cent. That’s the best I can do for now, Captain.’

‘Just try to keep them up long enough for us to evacuate this section, Lieutenant.’ Starzek scanned the incoming tactical information on the console before her. Much of the data was incomplete or scrambled due to the increasing amount of damaged and malfunctioning systems. The enemy vessel, a hitherto unknown Vok’Chim escort-class ship — small, highly manoeuvrable and heavily armed — was running circles around them — literally.

‘Let’s see what I can make out here,’ the captain muttered to herself, fingers now dancing effortlessly over the touchscreen console. A flashing red dot indicated an incoming energy beam a fraction of a second before it hit and the bridge shuddered once more. Reports filled a secondary screen: hull breaches on decks 12 and 13; emergency shielding in place and holding (for now). Fires on decks 10 to 15. Casualty reports flooding in.

‘Evasive manoeuvres Delta-Nine.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ replied the Ensign at the helm.

‘Starzek to Engineering: we can’t move fast enough to avoid their weapons, but can we rotate power to the shield quadrants to match their position relative to us?’

A short pause, but it felt like a lifetime as she watched another volley of torpedoes speed towards them.

‘I can try, Captain. The problem—’ Chief Engineer Yuri Goraya was cut off as the torpedoes hit and the ship lurched to port. A bulkhead was blasted off the side wall of the bridge, narrowly missing a science officer working at a rear station. Thick, dark smoke snaked out from the electrical wiring behind the panel.

‘—The problem is that shifting that amount of energy from one emitter to the next so quickly could easily overload them and leave us with no shields at all.’

Starzek programmed the beam arrays to fire at will, as near to the target as the sensors could determine. She hoped that the energy beam weapons would have more of a chance of hitting something, rather than waste their torpedoes.

‘Try to find a way of reducing the risk of overload, Commander. I want to have that as a fallback option after separation.’

The Captain thought she heard the smallest hint of a sigh before, ‘Acknowledged.’ Goraya was one hell of an engineer and he knew her ship inside out. If anyone could find a way to pull this off, he could.

‘Any luck with that repulser beam?’ she yelled over the noise of another energy beam attack disrupting their shields. The thing with energy beams was that a percentage of the energy would almost always leak through to the hull.

‘No, ma’am. Repulser beam is still offline. The emitter is completely fried. It’ll take a visit to a docking station to get that fixed up.’

Starzek attempted to push a stray strand of hair out of her face, but it ended up plastered to her forehead thanks to the copious amount of sweat she was producing. She blamed the malfunctioning environmental control systems, but deep down she knew it was something else. She was quickly running out of options. Her primary objective was to keep her crew safe. It was obvious that she was outgunned and far outmatched in terms of speed.

‘Can you give me SLS?’ Supraluminal speed was still their best chance of escape.

Another explosion rocked the ship and Starzek heard screaming over the comm channel to Engineering.

‘Goraya? Report.’

Static, then dead air.

‘Starzek to Engineering.’

‘Life support down to fifteen per cent, shields at twenty-two per cent and falling,’ reported Lieutenant Commander Liáng from Ops.

‘Engineering, come in,’ repeated the captain.

The emergency klaxons and the accompanying crimson flashing overhead lights seemed more ominous than any other time the thirty-six-year-old Captain had had occasion to activate them in her five years in charge of the Destiny. The accompanying lights cast a bloody glow over the command deck.

‘I can’t be sure, Captain, because internal sensors are malfunctioning, but I’m not reading any bio activity in Engineering,’ said Liáng, trying his best to perform his duties professionally and calmly, whilst no doubt fearing the worst for his friends and colleagues. Liáng was particularly close to Goraya — the two had graduated from the Academy the same year and had even shared a room for a year, if Starzek recalled correctly.

‘I see,’ replied the captain.

Another blast. Console readouts showed hull breaches on multiple decks and the casualty list continued to grow.

‘Tanesh to Starzek. We’re on the aux bridge. All systems functional. Evacuation is almost complete.’

‘Acknowledged. Keep me informed. Starzek out.’ She turned to the science officer working behind her. Ensign Svensen, she thought, but wasn’t entirely sure. She made a mental note to take some time out to better review the more recent crew manifest as soon as she had the opportunity.

‘Ensign, take over Ops. Jones, go down to Engineering and see what’s going on. Get a medic to meet you there and see if you can re-establish control.’

Jones nodded and stood from his seat just in time for the Ensign to swoop into his place. She looked nervous as she quickly scanned the display to familiarise herself with a station she wasn’t fully trained to man.

Jones jogged towards the lift, at the same time tapping his RistComp. Starzek heard him patching through to the med bay as the lift doors shut.

And that’s when everything slowed down; when the scene around her appeared to be playing in slow motion. The perceptional shift was accompanied by a sickening falling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She’d made a mistake and she knew it. She’d just evacuated the entire crew to the secondary hull when it now looked as if Engineering could be unmanned.

‘Propulsion status,’ she barked at the Ensign at Ops, immediately regretting her harsh tone. In her altered, adrenaline-induced state, the response took an age to reach her.

‘SLS still down, power to thrusters is… fluctuating.’

‘I’m going to need you to be more specific, Ensign.’

Starzek imagined she had heard the young Ensign gulp as the girl tapped frantically at the Operations interface. Finally, she offered more details as another beam attack ripped through their shields.

‘Fore thrusters are fully functional, aft operating at reduced capacity. I’m unable to be more specific than that, Captain. Diagnostic systems are heavily damaged.’

Great. That was it: her worst fear. She’d sent her crew to the section of the ship with limited engine power. They’d be sitting ducks if they separated now. Her original plan to remotely control the primary hull and to use that more manoeuvrable section of the ship as a decoy whilst they attempted to escape was now looking much less like a valid tactic.

‘Jarod to Starzek: we’ve got casualties pouring in here and I’ve had to evacuate the med bay. I’m setting up a triage centre in cargo hold two, but I could use some assistance from any available crew members with training in emergency medicine. Or first aid, for that matter.’ It was Doctor Sally Jarod, the ship’s Chief Medical Officer, no doubt cursing the Captain’s decision to abandon the primary hull. Just one more sign that Starzek had made a poor choice.

‘Understood, Doctor. We need all hands on deck at the moment, as I’m sure you can appreciate, but I’ll do my best as soon as I can. Starzek out.’ She looked up from the tactical console. ‘All right everyone, prepare to hand control of your stations over to the aux bridge and once that’s complete, head over there as quickly as possible.’

The Ensigns at Helm and Ops both replied in unison, ‘Aye, Captain.’

‘Starzek to aux bridge.’

‘Tanesh here.’

‘We’re ready to head over. Do you have all stations manned?’

‘Yes, ma’am. We’re ready.’

‘Prepare to take over helm, tactical and ops functionality on my mark.’

‘Standing by.’

She moved swiftly from the tactical station to the front consoles of helm and ops. She stood between them and turned from one ensign to the other.

‘Ready?’

They nodded.

‘Transfer control now.’

‘Transfer successful,’ reported Ops, quickly followed by Helm.

‘Good. Let’s get out of here.’

As the two ensigns boarded the lift, her RistComp chirped and Tanesh piped through again.

‘Captain. I’m sorry, but I’ve just been told that last hit took out our ability to remotely control the primary hull.’

Starzek’s lips tightened and a strange calmness descended on her. She nodded at the ensigns nervously waiting for her to join them inside the lift. Svensen began to object, but Starzek had anticipated the objection and leaned over to tap a button on the lift’s control panel. The doors swished shut and Starzek turned on her heel to examine the viewing screen at the front of her bridge.

‘Captain?’ Tanesh’s tone relayed his concern. He knew her too well.

Starzek headed for the helm. ‘I’m here, Dev, and yes, I plan to do what you’re thinking.’ She settled down in the pilot’s seat and inputted her command codes, ready to take back helm control after hull separation.

‘Captain… Jenny, I can’t let you do this. It’s foolish. We’ll be stronger together.’

‘How long until separation?’

‘Thirty seconds.’

‘Has everyone been evacuated?’

‘Yes. Except for you. Svensen and Poole just reached us.’

‘Good. When we separate, I’ll resume control of the primary hull and try to distract the Vok’Chim ship. I want you to divert whatever power you have remaining to thrusters and get the hell out of here. Those are my final orders. Got it?’

There was a short pause. She knew her Executive Officer — her friend — was considering disobeying her in order to attempt to save her life, but the safety of the entire crew now rested with him and he’d inevitably come to the conclusion that she’d given him little choice but to do as she said. ‘Got it. Be safe, Jenny. Don’t do anything stupid — you owe me a tennis rematch during shore leave, remember?’

She allowed herself a small laugh. ‘I’ll try my best to keep our appointment.’

A new light flashed on her console and the voice of the ship’s computer echoed throughout the bridge with an artificial sense of urgency: ‘Warning. Hull separation commencing in T-minus ten seconds.’

‘Here goes nothing. Get my crew to safety, Commander.’

‘Aye, Captain.’ The channel cut off as a plasma blast seared across the primary hull. Starzek knew there was a high risk of separation failure. So many systems were damaged and the attacks from the Vok’Chim vessel were unrelenting.

‘Separation in progress,’ alerted the computer.

In reality, the warning wasn’t necessary. The almighty noise of huge hydraulic clamps releasing was indication enough. Starzek grasped the arms of her seat tightly and allowed the automated process to take over. A loud hiss was followed by rapid forwards acceleration as the secondary hull pushed her section of the ship away.

The captain wasted no time in reinitiating helm control and plotting a tight turn to take her between the attacking vessel and Destiny’s secondary hull.

‘Computer, re-establish all bridge controls and fire at will at Vok’Chim vessel.’

‘Acknowledged.’

‘Starzek to Tanesh.’ Nothing. Looked like her communications array was out.

As she approached the secondary hull, she looked up at the view screen and saw that they were not moving. Something was wrong. If Jones had been unable to regain control of Engineering, it would only take a couple of well-placed hits to the aft thrusters to take them offline completely. Her entire crew were sitting ducks and it was her fault.

She quickly plotted a new attack manoeuvre, then scanned Destiny’s secondary hull. There was a reactor core breach in progress. Shit. Why hadn’t they ejected the reactor? Maybe the Engineering section had been sealed off due to a radiation leak or fire. Shit.

‘Shields at twelve per cent and falling. Life support failing. Attempting to divert auxiliary and emergency power. Stand by.’ The computer was working overtime in the absence of a crew.

‘Target their reactor and fire torpedoes!’ she called out over the now constant noise of weapon blasts and the resultant explosions.

‘Acknowledged. Attempting to establish targeting lock.’

Starzek leaned down and opened a small compartment built into the side of the station, reached inside and took out an oxygen mask. She put it on clumsily whilst trying to keep an eye on the read-outs showing the status of Destiny’s reactor core.

‘Unable to establish targeting lock due to sensor damage.’

‘Dammit!’ She pounded the console with her fist.

‘Warning! Life support has failed. Please locate your nearest oxygen mask.’

‘Computer, extrapolate enemy position as best you can and fire at will.’

‘Acknowledged. Firing beam arrays and torpedoes.’

Starzek looked up in time to see a tiny, yet intense flash of light emanate from the centre of Destiny’s secondary hull. A split second later she watched as the ship exploded. There was no time for emotions; the resulting shockwave sent her section of the ship hurtling through space and threw her out of her seat. She landed with a thump in front of the Captain’s chair, her head striking the deck hard.

There was a huge explosion above her and a large chunk of metal plating came crashing down on top of Captain Jennifer Starzek of the former United Earth Ship Destiny.

Two Years Later (2256)

Jennifer Starzek was nudged awake unceremoniously by the far from delicate touch of her bunkmate, Colin Truman. The burly starship engineer from Luther Island, Georgia, she had discovered during their nine-month-long journey, was a man of few words, but with a heart as big as his burly, towering frame.

‘End of the road. Get up,’ he said and proceeded to shove the last remaining scrunched up articles of clothing previously strewn across their tiny cabin into his large duffel bag.

Jennifer swung her legs over the edge of the bottom bunk and smiled at the man she’d grown fond of despite his possessing a wide array of bad habits, any one of which would have got him kicked off a United Earth starship faster than he could say ‘toenail clippings’. The large man made eye contact and Jennifer thought she detected the slightest hint of a smile before he looked away, threw the overpacked bag over his broad shoulder and left the cabin without another word.

A pang of sadness struck her chest for a few moments, before Jennifer chuckled and forced her cramped legs to lift her up. Being the highly trained former starship captain that she was, Jennifer had packed all of her belongings the night before. She took one last look around the cramped quarters she had called home during this long and mostly uneventful trip, grabbed her small suitcase from under the bunk and headed for the next stage of her unplanned adventure.

In truth, as much as she tried to convince herself that she had set out on an expedition to the outer frontier of human-explored space, during the night when she was having trouble falling asleep, Jennifer was forced to confront the reality of her situation: she was running from home in an attempt to escape the memories that haunted her of the destruction of Destiny; of the loss of her crew, her friends. A counsellor had told her she was suffering from survivor guilt and post-traumatic stress disorder and that that was to be expected, but putting neat labels on the chaos of emotions, thoughts and nightmares rolling around inside her like a thunderstorm trapped in a bottle really didn’t help. She suspected it just gave the professionals something to write when they were filling in their professional forms when writing at their professional desks underneath their professionally framed degree certificates.

They had told her that if she continued to attend her sessions, eventually she would be able to work through the guilt and the other emotions. But the thing was that she felt as if she didn’t deserve to resolve her issues so easily. How was that fair to the two hundred and fifty-three Destiny crew members who she’d condemned to death due to her poor decision making under pressure?

Jennifer strode down the narrow dimly lit corridor of the freighter she’d hitched a ride on to Outpost Kappa-5, the most distant facility from Earth. The bulk of the large ship’s interior was dedicated to the transport of cargo to the colonies, outposts and stations it called at on its two-year circuit, but there was also money to be made in competing with the large passenger cruisers, especially for trips this far out, which the mainstream carriers only did infrequently and for a premium price.

Jennifer hadn’t wanted luxury, she’d wanted expediency and the cramped quarters and the noise of cargo being loaded, unloaded and rearranged at all hours of the day and night and the constant toxic-smelling fumes from the engine room had all been tolerable in order to get as far away from Earth and the UEA as quickly as possible.

She deftly negotiated stacks of small boxes and repair tools left lying in the corridor. Other passengers were crowded around the exit hatch at the end of the corridor already, waiting for a crew member to arrive to open it.

As she waited at the back of the line, she couldn’t help but spot Colin, who towered above the other passengers near the front of the queue. She wondered if she’d made the right decision in coming here at all; after all it had been her poor decision making skills that had got her in this mess in the first place. She’d hoped, foolishly, that the further she drifted from her home planet, the more the nightmares would fade. That hadn’t been the case; in fact, she thought they might be getting worse and was reminded of a quotation she’d read somewhere a long time ago: ‘No matter where you go, there you are.’ Something like that. That felt like the motto of her life these days. Perhaps she should have it tattooed onto her arm.

A crew member wearing greasy orange overalls arrived at the hatch, tapped a code into the panel and stood back as the circular hatch hissed, then unlocked and rotated into the wall.

A harsh artificial light flooded the previously dim corridor and Jennifer squinted involuntarily. Her eyes weren’t used to bright light after spending so long in these dreary conditions.

The crowd began to move forwards slowly and steadily. In the distance she could just make out a voice over a tannoy system making announcements on the outpost landing field. The voice grew louder as she approached the hatch.

‘Welcome to Outpost Kappa-5. For security reasons, please be prepared to have all belongings scanned upon entering the arrivals area. Please also have your identification document ready. Enjoy your stay.’

It appeared to be a prerecorded message that repeated every couple of minutes, preceded by a bing-bong in the age-old tradition.

Jennifer nodded a thank-you to the crewman before descending the ramp to the vast landing field, which was illuminated by powerful floodlights atop tall poles. It was an awe-inspiring sight to stand in such a large, open space and see the stars of the Sagittarius Arm above and to the sides of her. The environmental containment field only caused the slightest distortion, like looking through glass with small imperfections.

She followed the thick yellow line painted onto the ground, which led from the edge of the freighter’s parking site to the entrance into the arrivals area of the main building.

Maintenance and security drones buzzed through the air above her, scanning and imaging people as they disembarked. Jennifer knew security had been tightened ever since the Terrestrial Purist terrorist group had managed to smuggle an explosive device into the reactor room of Outpost Beta-5, killing hundreds of people and causing untold damage that had taken over a year to fully repair.

Slowing down to get a good look at the stars meant that all of the other passengers had already passed through the security checkpoint by the time Jennifer arrived. She waved her ID card past a scanner, smiled at the guards on duty, then placed her suitcase onto the SecuriScan pad. A second later, a green light flashed and she collected her case and marched on through to the lounge.

The outpost arrivals lounge was not as busy as past travel experience had led her to expect. Jennifer had to keep reminding herself that, despite being very similar in design to the others in the string of outpost stations, Kappa-5 was as far-flung as you could get.

Her former fellow freighter passengers had dispersed across the wide lounge; some had gravitated towards the bar with its neon sign and shifty-looking host. Others had sat down in the crescent-shaped seating area — examining their paperwork, peering up at the station signs in an attempt to figure out which of the colour-coded sections to head towards.

There were others present too; a private passenger shuttle had docked around the same time as the freighter and no doubt some of the sparse crowd were residents of the station, here to meet friends, family or work colleagues. Or to stretch their legs. Or to gawp at the new arrivals.

The signs hung above the far end of the lounge and Jennifer had studied the schematics enough on the way out to read them without stopping. Blue for visitors’ quarters: A Wing, floors one to five. Through the glass behind the signs, three ten-storey wings ran out from the low circular drum of the main building, and past them stood the observation tower with the astronomers’ dome lit at the top of it.

As Jennifer strode across the spacious atrium and as her muscles began to lengthen after nine months of cramped living conditions, she was glad she’d gone to the additional expense of booking a suite rather than the basic quarters.

In the lift up to the fifth floor of A Wing, she worked out how long she could go without speaking to another human being. Two weeks, she decided. Two weeks, and then she would decide what the rest of her life was for.

She found room 22 and unlocked it with her fingerprint. Painting, maybe. Or the novel she had been promising herself for the last ten years. Whatever it turned out to be, it would be quiet, and it would be a very long way from a war.

As the suite door slid open, Jennifer Starzek, former captain in the UEA, spotted the jacuzzi at the far end of the room and began to feel her tense shoulders relax a little. Who needed counsellors when there were bubbles?

End of chapter one. Seventy-five chapters to go, and a signal that has been waiting two hundred years for somebody to answer it. Continue reading on Amazon