The Epherium Chronicles: Echoes (2 page)

Emergency lights engaged, and the red lighting reflected Captain Styles’s mood. Angrily he rose from his command station’s chair. “Give me a SITREP!” he bellowed.

“What the hell just happened, Mr. Turnbow?”

Still trying to gain access to his disabled panel, Turnbow just shook his head. “Massive power feedback from the jump, sir, but I can’t access our status. Everything’s dead.” He checked another panel on his terminal. “Intraship comms are still functional.”

Styles scanned the bridge to account for all the command crew, several of whom were spraying fire suppressants on the overloaded panels. Satisfied that there were no casualties, he spun his terminal to face him and opened a comm channel to Engineering. “Watkins! What happened with our power? Did we jump?”

Static over the comm channel nearly drowned out the voice of Lieutenant Jerome Watkins, the
Cestus’s
chief engineer. “Sir, the reactor spiked just before the space-fold drive activated. The drive reverted, and the built-up energy overloaded the safeties.”

“Can you restore power?” Styles asked, tone full of his concern for the safety of the ship.

“I should have auxiliary power in a few moments, but main power is going to be a problem,” Watkins explained. “The spike came out of nowhere and the reactor scrammed. It’s still not stable. I’m afraid main power and the space-fold drive are out indefinitely.”

Styles sighed. “Very well. Keep working on it. I want regular reports every thirty minutes. Styles out.” He closed the channel just as power returned to the undamaged consoles on the bridge. He’d seen jump failures in the past, but never so close to activation of the jump. Loss of main power and the space-fold drive were bad enough. Now he needed to know what other systems were damaged from the overload. “Helm, can you confirm our position?”

The
Cestus’s
helmsman completed the checkout of this station and checked his terminal. “Sir, all our star patterns match. Spatial Navigation confirms that the near jump didn’t move us.”

Styles took the news as a positive. At least the malfunction hadn’t slingshot them in a random direction. If they needed help, the fleet would know right where to look. He looked over at his XO, who was finally able to review the status of the
Cestus’s
systems. “Mr. Turnbow, what do we have that’s still functional?”

The grim look on the man’s face told Styles it wasn’t good. “Sir, life support and auxiliary power are the only guarantees at the time. Primary propulsion is out, along with the jump drive. With main power gone, we’re left with point defense weapons only, but many of those are still off-line. Tactical and launch bay controls for the fighters are a mess, but I’ve assigned teams to work on them.”

“What about sensors and communications?”

Turnbow shook his head. “All long-range sensors and comms are down. We still have the short-range sensor array, but it’s not stable. Communications reports they have a lock on the nearest hyper beacon. The team believes they can get a message to Cygni, but they can’t guarantee the link for long.”

“Alright,” Styles stated with a definitive nod. “Work with Communications and get a distress call to Cygni. Keep repeating until you get a response or we lose that link.”

“Aye, sir,” Turnbow replied. “I’m on it.”

Styles stopped his XO before he turned away. “Keep it short, and don’t give any details on our status. We don’t know who might pick it up. Report our position only as last verified. Our other escorts can pinpoint us from that.” The last thing Styles needed was a Cilik’ti warship to come calling. Even if there were friendlies now among the aliens, there were plenty of them who still wanted to kick Earth’s forces in the teeth for good measure. There was no point giving them a free pass to do so. If a Cilik’ti ship did pick up the signal, it would take them time to track them down. Time for help to arrive, or at least he hoped.

Turnbow headed to the Communications Station on the far side of the bridge. The young officer quickly conveyed the message to the communications officer, and the first distress call went out a few seconds later.

Styles sat in his chair and gently stroked the armrest. “Sorry, girl,” he whispered. “I don’t know what happened, but we’ll make it right.” He’d been the captain of the
Cestus
for nearly ten years, her first and only captain since she was commissioned. They’d been together through the war and countless missions. Now they just had to wait.

“New contact!” The warning was firm and immediate from the sensors officer to Styles’s left.

The announcement brought Styles to his feet in a flash. “Can you identify?” he asked, his heart already starting to race.

The blond-haired young ensign at the Sensors Station continued to adjust settings on his terminal. “Negative, sir. I can’t get a definitive sensor image, but she’s close. Definitely within ten thousand meters.”

“Keep on it and get me an ID on that ship!”

Turnbow’s terminal beeped, and Styles leaned over to check the status message. The
Cestus’s
tactical systems had come back online.

Styles wheeled toward his tactical officer’s station. “Talk to me, Lieutenant. What’s our new friend up to out there?”

Lieutenant Carlos Abandi was one of the most experienced tactical officers in the
EDF
Fleet, but the baffled look on his face didn’t give Styles any confidence. “Sir, I still can’t get a lock on it, or any decent reading at all. But whatever it is, it’s fast.” Abandi hastened his effort to gain new information on the contact. After several moments, it was clear he wasn’t having much success. “I still can’t get a reading on that vessel, sir. I’m only picking up a rough bearing when she moves. The sensors have stabilized, so it has to be a new form of countermeasures.” His terminal flashed a new warning. “She’s targeting us!”

Styles opened up a shipwide comm channel. “All hands, we are under attack. General Quarters, man your battle stations. I repeat, all hands to battle stations.” Styles had barely finished his call to the crew when a vicious impact amidships jolted the command crew from their station posts. Without main power, there was no inertial stabilizer, and even minor course corrections would force crew members to adjust their footing.

“Damage report!” Styles yelled.

Turnbow staggered back to his own station and accessed his terminal. “Explosive impact on our port side. It could have been a projectile weapon. Armor breaches on decks five and six, but no containment breach.”

Styles needed to fend off their attacker and fast. “Dammit, Abandi, get me a targeting solution on that ship!” There was no answer. Styles looked back at the Tactical Station behind them and could see the unconscious body of his tactical officer on the floor of the bridge. He froze for a moment, gripped in a web of anger and fear at the sight. With a quick burst of will, he broke free of his paralysis. He tapped Turnbow’s shoulder then pointed to Abandi’s station. “Go.”

Turnbow bounded around his own terminal and reached the Tactical Station in seconds. Abandi’s body was at his feet and the man still wasn’t moving. Turnbow stepped over his crewmate and accessed the terminal. Styles could hear the warning chirp from the terminal as Turnbow enabled the tracking systems. “Captain, she’s coming around for another pass!”

“Can you get a lock on her?”

Styles watched Turnbow strive in desperation to acquire a targeting lock, but the masked signature continued to thwart his efforts. “Negative. Whatever countermeasures she’s using, our systems still can’t overcome them.” The XO entered a new sequence of commands into the terminal. “Sir, I’m going to have our point defense cannons fire a blanket spread when she closes. It won’t be very effective at range, but maybe we can drive her off.”

“Do it,” Styles commanded, his mind still searching for other options, but there weren’t any unless he could get the ship moving. “It might buy us time.”

“Aye, sir,” Turnbow replied, and point defense cannons on the starboard side of the
Cestus
opened fire.

Another impact jolted the ship. A blast of intense light bathed the bridge, forcing Styles and the members of the command crew to cover their eyes for a few moments. The impact was much more intense than the first. Sparks showered from one damaged panel and power flickered again on the bridge systems, but soon stabilized. From his chair, Styles could hear sounds of metal shearing away only a few decks below. “Mr. Turnbow!”

“Another explosive hit, sir. Starboard side this time.” The Tactical Station terminal screen in front of Turnbow beeped with more information. “The blast looks to have been caused by a low-yield thermonuclear warhead. Early sensor readings indicate it could’ve been pidium-enhanced.”

Styles was still trying to digest the new information when a warning klaxon sounded on the bridge. He knew what that meant and it wasn’t good.

“I have a containment breach on deck four, section two, near the primary weapons array!” Turnbow called out. “Emergency bulkheads have deployed, but there were at least ten crew members in that section at last report.” His brow narrowed as he continued to check the status of the damaged decks. Another warning flashed, and he gasped. “Sir, I have radiation warnings on three decks now. The levels on deck four are in the danger zone.”

Styles gritted his teeth in frustration. If he didn’t act now, his ship would soon be a floating graveyard. “Turnbow, take the safeties off the missiles in the forward and aft launchers. We might not be able to lock on, but those missiles will give her something to think about.” He scanned around the bridge. His crew was scared. He could sense the fear emanating all around them and, worst of all, he could feel it creeping in on him. He turned back toward the Tactical Station and his XO. “Direct whatever repair teams we have to the fighter bay and fix that launcher. We need those fighters.”

Turnbow knew what his captain was asking. Taking away the repair teams from the damaged decks now would surely doom those still trapped in those areas. It was clear he didn’t like it, but he understood the order. Even one fighter could make a difference in the ship’s survival.

Styles reopened his channel to Engineering. “Watkins! Can you get me propulsion? We’ve got to maneuver.”

The static threatened to squelch Watkins’s voice over the comm channel. “Still working on it. I think I might be able reroute our auxiliary power from other nondefensive systems to get us moving, but that includes the graviton generator.” A massive burst of static made his next words unintelligible.

Styles didn’t wait for his chief engineer to repeat them. “Make it happen, Watkins. Gravity will be the least of our problems if we just sit here and get pounded.” Styles closed the channel and secured himself into his seat. Once his emergency harness was fastened, he triggered the Zero-G alarm for the ship. He was out of tricks and he knew it. There wasn’t any choice now. His gamble would take away the ship’s communications and dampen life support. If it worked, he might get a fighting chance, but the odds were stacked against him. If it failed, he and his crew wouldn’t be much worse off than they were now, but they’d still be sitting ducks.

Chapter Two

EDF
Dreadnaught Armstrong
Orbit Around Cygni 4
Friday, February
21
Earth Year 2155

Captain James Hood struggled to maintain his uncomfortable stance at attention next to his uncle, Commander Jonathan Hood, the leader of the new Cygni colony. Hood had never felt this nervous about anything, especially on his own ship, but this situation bordered on the unique. Hood’s ship, the
Armstrong
, was getting a group of visitors. The type he’d never expected to see unless they were rudely unannounced and carrying weapons.

Hood was sweating. He noticed it in his shirt now, tucked inside his deep royal-blue dress uniform. The sensation was unnerving, but outwardly he didn’t let it show. He couldn’t. Plus, he knew the others standing with him in the large aft docking bay of the
Armstrong
felt the same way. Situated in the center of the docking bay was a large alien transport craft—a Cilik’ti craft, to be more precise.

Hood rotated his head just enough to the right to catch a glimpse down the line of people standing with him. Earth’s representatives to this meeting were not a seasoned group of diplomats. Most of the thirty people arrayed to meet the Cilik’ti delegation were officers from the other
EDF
ships that had arrived a day after the
Armstrong’s
desperate battle to save the Cygni colony. They understood military protocol, not diplomacy. In fact, Hood had served or helped to train most of them over the past several years. Diplomatic engagement was never in the training schedule.

But Hood’s thoughts didn’t dwell on the other officers or even their roles in this ragtag diplomatic envoy. Instead, his gaze passed over his uncle, who was clad in his light gray
EEF
uniform to the next in line, his new aunt, Gina Hood. Dark black hair fell neatly on her shoulders. Standing not quite ten centimeters shorter than her husband, Gina wore a light blue pantsuit with a blue-trimmed gray jacket that accented her thin frame and provided a pleasing complement to her husband’s attire. Like his uncle, Gina still looked the same age as she had when the colonists aboard the
Magellan
had left Earth almost twenty-five years earlier. The sleeper cell technology used for the long journey, called Embrace, had slowed down the colonists’ aging process. Standing close together, he was certain few onlookers could tell who was the older of the Hood males in the line.

Happy as he was to see his uncle and aunt standing next to him for this meeting, Hood’s heart rate truly started to increase when his focus reached the next person in line. Lieutenant Commander Jillian Howard, his uncle’s XO aboard the
Magellan
and second-in-command of the Cygni colony, stood in a stout attention as she admired the Cilik’ti ship’s arrival. No matter how many times he saw her, Hood felt an air of excitement. It had started when he was a kid just visiting the
Magellan’s
training facility before the colony ship’s voyage. It wasn’t any different now.

Ever since the battle defending the colony, Hood had spent most of his time directing the repairs of the
Armstrong.
What free time he had left, he spent with Jillian, and for Hood, it was time well spent indeed. His vision faded out everyone around her and his eyes soaked in her radiance like a sponge. Slowly, they followed the outline of her slightly freckled face and filtered down to her silky neck. Unlike the other women
EDF
officers in the line, Jillian’s strawberry blond hair was tucked in her usual ponytail that hung down just below the collar of her uniform. He loved the smell of her hair. It was intoxicating.

Hood looked back up to her face and found Jillian’s hazel eyes now staring in his direction. Her face tensed slightly enough that it didn’t draw anyone’s attention and she darted her eyes back toward the Cilik’ti ship. Hood didn’t understand what that meant. The two had developed such a playful demeanor even during their meetings over the past few weeks. Instead, he just smiled at her.

Finding his vision still locked on her, Jillian added a curt, but emphatic nod this time toward the Cilik’ti ship. Her gesture and the rather loud hiss from the Cilik’ti shuttle access door clued Hood to pay attention.
Gotcha,
he mouthed.

Jillian rolled her eyes and just shook her head, but Hood could see the smile sprouting on her face. That was all he needed.

Hood returned his attention to the Cilik’ti ship and what had started to exit the large craft. Four tall and powerful-looking Cilik’ti warriors filed out of the shuttle, clad in deep green armor. They were members of the N’lan, one of the Cilik’ti Shi. Each Shi was like a clan or tribe in the Cilik’ti culture. A culture Hood was barely beginning to understand.

All of the warriors carried a long rod, which Hood recognized as longer forms of the Cilik’ti warrior pulse lance, their preferred weapon in battle. Their powerful hands clasped the metal lances in tight grips, holding them vertical and perfectly still while they descended the ten-meter ramp to the floor of the docking bay. Once the warriors took their positions beside the base of the ramp, a familiar figure appeared in the doorway of the shuttle.

Kree, the Cilik’ti worker and scientist who’d acted as an ambassador to the colonists on Cygni, stepped onto the ramp. In one of his four small appendages, he held a short, thick rod with a pale white ball on the end. The device was a translator and in recent weeks, the impact of that device on relations between the N’lan and humanity was without measure. Communication between the Cilik’ti and humans had never been formally established, even during the war. The primary reason had lain with the form of telepathy the Cilik’ti used to communicate with members of their own race. That method, unfortunately, didn’t work when the Cilik’ti had tried to communicate with humans on the Pluto Outpost in their first encounter almost twenty years ago.

During his first few weeks on Cygni, Kree had studied the colonists and made a surprising revelation. He could read surface thoughts and emotions from them. Based on his discovery, Kree had constructed the device to translate his method of telepathic communication to verbalized speech, and vice versa.

Hood smiled as he watched his new friend walk down the ramp, but what appeared next from the shuttle nearly took his breath away. Another Cilik’ti, this one towering almost five meters in height, stepped onto the ramp with refined grace for its size. The huge Cilik’ti was clad in dark cloth garments that draped over its head, neck and carapace. Large streaks of red flowed across its carapace and down its legs, almost like elegant tattoos. Four large arms extended from its upper torso, each ending in long three-fingered hands. Clutched in one of its hands was another translator device.

The great Ut’liss, chief elder of the Hal’ta N’lan, had arrived. The Hal’ta was the ruling body of the N’lan Shi, and Ut’liss had served as its most prominent member since before Kree had been birthed. In addition to the Hal’ta’s purpose to direct and guide their Shi, they were responsible for the Shi’s survival and longevity. Members of the Hal’ta were the only ones of the Shi capable of reproduction. All offspring birthed by a member of the Hal’ta were separated into different castes, depending on their genetic profile.

Even though this meeting was to be short and for all intents and purposes, an introduction, Hood knew he had to be ready if negotiations made rapid progress. He’d spent several hours with Kree to understand more about the Cilik’ti culture, including a crucial element—protocol. The Ota, like Kree, were the workers of the Shi. They were laborers, scientists, architects and engineers. The four members of the N’lan honor guard were Bal’ta. They were the warriors, but in many of the Shi, they were the creators of beauty. Many Bal’ta had been gifted with the ability for artistry, while others could create music. No human had ever heard any version of Cilik’ti music, but if it furthered the relationship with the N’lan, Hood was open to volunteer. He had a compilation of music he’d collected over the years, and perhaps both sides could benefit from a culture exchange.

Ut’liss stepped off the ramp and bowed her hooded head at Kree. Together they turned and walked toward the human contingent arrayed before them. They stopped a few meters short of the line, and the globe on Kree’s translation device started to glow a faint purple. “Teribinam. This one offers you greetings and wishes to present to you the Great Ut’liss Hal’ta, high elder of the N’lan and Second of the Great Council of the Shi.”

Hood stepped forward and performed a slight bow in a gesture of respect. “Teribinam, Great Ut’liss. I am James Hood, captain of the
EDF
Armstrong
, and I welcome you and your entourage aboard my vessel.” He could feel the gaze of Ut’liss’s three pairs of eyes on him. He completed his bow and looked directly into them, just as Kree had instructed.

Ut’liss returned the bow, and now the globe on her translator device began to glow. “You honor Ut’liss Hal’ta, Captain, and you honor the N’lan. Ut’liss Hal’ta thanks you and your people for receiving us.” The voice from the globe was still monotone, like Kree’s, but the pitch was lower and the words were bold and full of confidence. “Ut’liss Hal’ta commends you on your victory in the K’rveen, Captain. Very few have continued to draw breath after a confrontation with the Chi’tan.”

“The honor is ours, Great Ut’liss Hal’ta.” Hood kept his tone confident and voice steady. Any wavering now could send a bad impression. “The Chi’tan were formidable foes both in space and on the planet surface. Both sides fought bravely and at great cost.” Hood glanced at Kree and then returned his gaze to the N’lan’s chief elder. “There were many sacrifices during the K’rveen. I believe it was those sacrifices that showed us both how our people are alike and have brought us here today.”

Ut’liss didn’t speak in response, but gave a slight nod of her head in agreement. Kree did the same.

Hood was relieved. Things were going well, and he needed to take the next step. He looked to his right and gestured to his uncle. “Great Ut’liss Hal’ta, I would like to introduce you to the leader of our colony here on Cygni 4. This is Commander Jonathan Hood, my uncle, and his wife, Gina.”

Jonathan and Gina stepped forward next to their nephew and repeated the same respectful bow he’d performed earlier. “It is a tremendous honor to meet you, Great Ut’liss Hal’ta,” Jonathan began. “When my people set out for this planet almost twenty-five years ago, we knew there was a potential to meet a sentient alien species. We were asleep for so long. Much has changed since the day we left our home world. We knew nothing about our conflict with the Cilik’ti Shi.” Jonathan glanced at his wife and then at Jillian. Both gave him encouraging smiles. “When my survey team encountered Kree in the canyon, we uncovered more than just a new alien species. We brought to light the opportunity to bridge different people together.”

Jonathan’s trembling hand edged toward his wife and found hers. He interwove his fingers with her own and gently squeezed. “Great Ut’liss, I’m not a warrior. My people and I are explorers and we journeyed here to find a new world where our people can thrive. When the Chi’tan came to annihilate us, I put on armor and picked up a weapon to defend my home and my people. I would only imagine that in my place, you would do the same.” He looked over at Hood and smiled. “As my nephew has already said, all of us have made sacrifices. I saw more than I could’ve dreamed when I witnessed the blood and bodies on the battlefield. The courage of brave soldiers to defend people they barely knew was testament to their resolve.”

Jonathan let go of Gina’s hand and stepped in front of his nephew. Knowing the protocol, Hood wanted to stop his uncle but he froze. Any fast movement would be viewed as a threat and far worse than Jonathan’s alteration to Hood’s script for the meeting. He had to trust in his uncle. Instead, Hood watched the N’lan guards. They were passive. Despite his uncle’s bold move, they didn’t seem alarmed.

Jonathan halted less than a meter from the towering leader of the N’lan Shi. Ut’liss was huge compared to the large Chi’tan warriors he’d faced during the battle on the planet below. He stiffened as he gazed up into her sets of faceted eyes. “Together, we can honor their sacrifices. Regardless of the differences between our people, I believe we can build a foundation in this system. One built on trust and respect, not fear and uncertainty.”

Hood tried to find a semblance of comprehension of his uncle’s words in Ut’liss’s face, but he only saw Jonathan’s reflection in her eyes.

“My people on this planet are ready to make that step, Great Ut’liss Hal’ta. We are willing to work side by side with your people to uncover the mysteries of this new world and build a future. I know this wasn’t what you envisioned in this brief meeting, but I invite you take that step with me.” In a slow and uneven motion, he extended his hand toward Ut’liss.

Ut’liss’s gaze lowered to Jonathan’s hand. Then she turned her head toward Kree. Kree’s eyes met Ut’liss’s and neither moved for several moments. Without warning, Ut’liss swung her head back toward Jonathan and her translator globe glowed. “The history between humans and the Shi has been a grievous one. The N’lan have heard your words, Commander Hood.” She looked up at the rest of the
EDF
contingent. “The N’lan have heard all your words. Events during the K’rveen have proven to the N’lan and the other Shi that humans are not a threat to the Shi way of life. They must be accepted and embraced.” The leader of the N’lan raised her translator device above her head. “The N’lan value life in all things, and it took these sacrifices to remind the N’lan who we are. The Chi’tan and their allies have used our values and our honor against the other Shi to further their own agendas. They clouded us with fear and suspicion to justify horrible acts committed against innocent species.” Her gaze found Jonathan’s welcoming eyes. “Never again,” her translator globe echoed.

Hood watched in awe as Ut’liss lowered one of her large hands toward his uncle’s outstretched hand. The exhilaration inside him wanted to leap from his chest, but he held it in check. Out of the corner of his eye, Hood caught a glimpse of Kree. The Cilik’ti worker’s legs twitched as if he was suppressing the urge to run around the docking bay in excitement. Ut’liss’s response to Jonathan’s overture was a sight few had even dared to conceive.