Contingency Read online

  Chapter 8

  A single star shone more brightly than the rest. In the chaotic field of stars sprawled endlessly in all directions, this one star seemed to glow with enhanced vigor. Dwight Verne was peering at the galactic core. This dense haze of yellowish matter seemed to him like a thick fog that collapsed on itself under its own weight, burying countless wonders in its depths. The lack of proper surveillance data from the region, due to its highly irregular and dangerous gravitic fields, also added to its mystery and wonder.

  The small screen that displayed the zoomed-in portion of the galaxy he was observing provided him with only a snapshot of what he felt was there to see. He imaged an enormous expanse running out in all three dimensions forever. Endless space to be explored seemed to wait outside the door. He especially admired that one star, glistening more strongly than the rest. What a true land of the imagination the galactic core was.

  Verne had his eyes closed as he remembered the image of a star encased in beautiful glory, as a large diamond enclosed in an equally beautiful golden ring, worthy of its treasure’s magnificence. Swirls of white and gold were spinning in his head as his thoughts seemed to slip out of the physical scale. They took on a more emotional nature that can dwell only in one’s head and is impossible to express in words. He dreamt of his home on the planet of Dreon, a close neighbor to Earth in its cozy corner of the Orion Arm.

  Its flora was alive with billions of tiny, white seeds. They gave everything a glistening trim. The air seemed to breathe it. He remembered one time when he was a boy of eleven years and had been on an expedition through one of the forests left untouched by civilization. The light-gray stalks and stems of the plants around him were alive with spring’s touch. He had run as fast as his feet would carry him through the dense shrubbery. In a valiant, spasmodic burst of energy he had crashed through the dense growth. He set loose enormous clouds of twinkling particles, like a collection of Earth’s rain droplets, but which flew with the wind and quickly migrated beyond his field of vision.

  His wrist attachment gave him an impulse, and the colors behind the back of his eyes rematerialized into the stars in front of him. He opened its notification, and it informed him of an incoming hyperspace trail. The Keeran must be arriving, he thought to himself. The trail had just been detected, and the ship could not yet be identified. There was probably still about an hour before the ship would arrive.

  Although messages could be quickly and easily sent through waves in hyperspace, an incoming ship could not be as easily detected. All ships gave off ripples in the folds of space as they travelled and disturbed its fibers. These would travel at a significant speed, but not as quickly as the ones designed to cut through as efficiently as possible. They were nonetheless effective harbingers of a ship’s arrival. Because there was always the ship travelling in the same direction and with great speed behind these waves, the notice of a ship’s arrival arrived only a little time before the actual ship. The closer the distance, the less that time was, because the waves had less time to get ahead of the ship itself. Thus, when travelling within the same system, hyperspace jumps could be carried out almost undetected until they were complete. Jumps to adjacent systems gave only less than a minute’s warning.

  Messages also took time to be sent from a corner of the galaxy to another. It was less than the time a ship would take to travel that distance, but it would still need weeks.

  The Keeran had been travelling just a little longer than the Vigilante, coming to the system all the way from the Local Sector of the Orion Arm. There would have to be a somewhat significant wait until the ship itself arrived.

  Verne turned his gaze to the starfield in front of him and let his gaze linger upon it for a moment longer. He then silently touched a few contacts on the keyboard to his right, and the large screen’s image vanished. Somewhere far off towards the back of the ship the long range telescope powered down. After a second, the screen’s standby images returned to its surface. The date was displayed beautifully across the top right of the screen: the numbers 12.07.1198 floated across the screen in a pleasant white font that was easy to look at. His eyes quickly fell over the collection of other data that had some purpose in the ship, but he did not linger. He quickly turned his back to the screen in the small room and started walking away.

  He left through its door and started making his way to the bridge. With a slow pace, he pondered the mission that awaited them. What enemies would await them within that nebula? Would the enterprise be efficient, or would they be stuck chasing down ghosts of pirates? He was not as much apprehensive as slightly depressed. He had dozed off a bit too long into his own world and now was thrown back into the real one.

  When he arrived on the bridge the captain was already there, talking with Winter and Dejar and a few others. They were talking through the ship’s communication system with the other four ships. Hustled voices shot back and forth. He was apparently quite late for something. He caught a few of their words; they were discussing several approaches to the nebula. The general consensus seemed to be that a spread-out formation would be most effective at sweeping out the area and discovering the enemies. The ships could converge easily on the enemy’s location when they were found. The other four captains eagerly contributed their ideas, and the preliminary plans were laid down. Verne approached and was welcomed.

  Thirty minutes later, everyone was impatiently sitting at their stations. It was quite ironic, because the arrival of the Keeran did not herald the beginning of the conflict, but only the beginning of the search. The other four ships stood motionless in the space around them. Their engines were completely shut off, and they gave no sign of movement, but each ship bustled with activity from the inside. Light shone out from every display, and every ship’s interior was abuzz with the thoughts and worries of all the crew.

  To pass the time, the Vigilante’s crew checked and rechecked their systems. Side conversations sprang up, and the people fell into a boring last mile stretch they had to wait through.

  The Keeran was approaching quite rapidly. It was now only a few minutes from the system. The Defender IV reopened the communication link to the Vigilante, and Captain Trein’s voice fed through. “Hello, Vigilante. We will brief the Keeran to our current situation. We will then communicate to you for an official meeting to lay down a launch time.” Darius promptly acknowledged the transmission and then let himself sink back into his chair. His eyes rolled over the entire personnel arranged on the bridge in front of him. His mind drifted off into a suspended sea of thoughts. The imperious air taken on by Captain Trein seemed to have subconsciously chipped away from his autonomy. He felt like he wanted to leave events to run their course, like he was floating above it all.

  After a minute he regained his composure and set his eyes on the large display at the front of the bridge. Suddenly a glistening white line struck out of the distance. This line quickly dissipated, and a ship emerged, dragging the trail to an end. The ship was still moving quickly; it arranged its course for the five ships and sped hastily until it came to a brusque stop at the edge to the cluster. Darius knew Trein had hailed the arrivals and was briefing them on the situation.

  All the members of the crew waited more or less patiently for the discourse to end. After a short while, an inter-ship communication stream was opened across all the six ships, and the strike force prepared its assault.