January 20th, 2262. 12:15 CNS Des Moines – Secondary Bridge

The secondary bridge was fully staffed for the first time since the battle. Everyone was nervous, surprisingly none more so than the ship's acting captain. John was loudly tapping the armrest on his chair. The weapons and engineering teams had finished making the probe ready for launch. However, the launch would have to wait until main power was brought back online.

“Sir, your aware that the probe flash will be picked up by both the Alliance and Mercs too, right?” Lieutenant Moreland said.

“That’s the general goal of it,” John stopped fidgeting in his chair and answered the question, “Makes it damn difficult for those Alliance fucks to cover this shit up.”

The viewscreen lit up showing Deniz in the foreground. Ana was yelling at someone above Deniz’s right shoulder. Engineering looked absolutely frenetic.

“Core is primed Captain,” Deniz smiled, “Waiting for your say-so.”

“Chief, refire her up. Petty officer when the core is online arrest our spin and full burn away from the planet on our current course.”

“Aye aye, sir,” both men answered simultaneously.

“Ensign Walsh, is our jump program ready?”

Valerie was busy at her terminal, “It will be ready in thirty seconds.”

The core roared to life. It was a bit louder and rougher than it normally sounded. But the ship wasn’t filled with plasma or hadn’t exploded. That was a pleasant bonus. The fidgeting continued in the captain’s chair though.

The ship shook when the maneuvering thrusters fired, more than expected. When the main engine lit, they could feel the acceleration push them into their seats. John grinned at feeling Gs once again.

John started to laugh, “Looks like the dampeners aren’t running at a hundred percent. Makes you feel alive though, right? Is that going to be a problem engineering?”

“Only if we break physics sir. That being said I would strongly suggest accelerating at less-than-optimal rates for the rest of our trip,” Deniz said.

“Probe is away. Burst in ten seconds. Slipstream generators are spooling up.”

John pressed the ship-wide communications button, “We will be jumping into slip space momentarily. Should this fail, I would be remiss in not congratulating the efforts put forth by this crew first. We have overcome much. Once more unto the breach, my dear friends, once more.”

The probe’s high output communications device was activated. A faster-than-light transmission was sent in every direction. There was no attempt to encrypt the data. The message was for any and all to see.

‘Old class Alliance BBs contain WMD. Θ and Γ radiation weapons. Serious Danger. CNS Des Moines. Lambda Bootis.’

The Des Moines active scanners, those that still functioned, recorded several tight beam communications from ship to ship. The Alliance fleet was caught flat-footed and was instantly terrified at the message. Numerous ships were dispatched to the probe. But it would take them hours to get to the probe. And the probe would pulse out that message thousands of times before they’d get an effective lock on it.

“Valerie, punch it.”

John leaned back in his chair. The viewscreen showed a red portal form in front of the ship. It appeared unstable but it continued to grow as the generators fed the portal more and more power. It shimmered once it grew about ten percent larger than the Des Moines and stabilized itself.

The ship crossed over the event horizon and transferred into the red-hued dimension they called slip space. The portal shut behind them once the ship had fully translated through the portal. Slip space could be many things, but calming was never one of them. Waves of ‘energy’ were a constant in this dimension.

“Prince, half ahead, let's ride that wave for as long as she’ll have us. Turn the bow thirty degrees to port and five degrees up.”

“Doesn’t sound or feel any different,” Lieutenant Moreland said.

“There’s no turbulence here. I’d prefer to avoid those areas,” Eileen said over the coms.

“CNC, how does our path look?” John asked.

Billy answered the question over Eileen, “This wave is taking us dead on to the Kepler Secondus system. Two light-years from our border. I believe this is where we wanted to go.”

“Engineering, how do the engines look?”

Ana got on the view screen, “Too soon to tell but that’s a reasonable jump considering the duct tape and prayers we threw at the repairs.”

“Any hope of us getting back to friendly territory in one jump?”

Deniz shook his head, “This wave will likely fade out or shift direction. When that happens, we will need to use more of our own power and store the slip feedback, which you know is incredibly limited with our main gun being useless.”

“If the wave doesn’t die out?”

“Kuma system,” Beth said, “Has a military listening station and some mining operations active there.”

“Nu Draconis is a stone’s throw away from there too. More population there though,” Eileen said.

“Ok, Kepler Secondus is our target. We’ll reexamine whether we can extend our stint as it were when we get closer.”

John then pressed the ship-wide communications, “We’re making way to Kepler Secondus,” John paused and checked his armrest, “T-minus twelve days and counting. Return to standard shift assignments. Oh, the first round of drinks is on me when we get back to friendly territory.”

“Alright folks. So far so good. For the bridge crew I’ll cover the first shift,” John said with a smile.

“No, you won’t. You’ve been up for thirty-two hours straight. You’re getting eight hours of bunk time starting now,” Lya said in her most stern and kind doctor voice.

“I’m…”

Lya gave John a look, “Don’t think I won’t pull rank. Do as your told.”

John was annoyed. Very annoyed in fact, but of the many things he didn’t want to deal with is explaining to his superiors how he tried to ignore a doctor’s order for rest. In the long line of attempts to justify said orders only a handful succeeded. And those reasons for succeeding didn’t fit neatly into this situation.

“Miracles abound. The ship didn’t die, and I got to see our captain put in his place,” Eileen was holding back laughter.

“Congrats on pulling first shift Lieutenant,” John grinned as he pointed at her and then the captain’s seat.

“Shit.”

John and most of the others began filing out of the bridge. As he was walking up the stairwell, he began to feel the weariness take hold. That wouldn’t mean he’d admit the doctor was right. Of course, he could do the shift without issue. Nevertheless, sleep would feel good.

When he got to his room, he opened the door quickly and stripped down to his boxers. The worn clothes fell to the ground and were left there to be picked up in the morning. He grabbed a pair of gym shorts from his lock and slid them on. Then he crawled into bed. Three minutes later he was sound asleep.

January 21st, 2262. 02:20 CNS Des Moines – John’s room

Telepaths weren’t fond of slip space. This dimension made for some positively batshit dreams. They were beyond lucid, and so alluring that one could very nearly get trapped in one. The dreams would stick with the individual for days or weeks. Some of the really strong ones could be stuck in one’s memory for months. Thankfully medical science did provide the means to wake one up from them forcibly, so the days of dying due to dreaming were long over.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

The first couple of hours were very restful. But as the night wore on his dreams changed. They got weird, lucid, and very distinctive. John had thought, mistakenly, that he’d be immune to the rotten dreams. Though this dream seemed less intense than the ones he would have occasionally when he had his powers, it was also very different too.

John found himself in a courtyard, but half of it appeared like a swamp in southern Florida. He knew instantly it was one of those dreams. There was plenty of sighing and swearing done prior to him walking over to the edge of the stone floor and swampy wetlands.

“That’s weird. This feels so…”

“I believe the term is disheveled,” a thin ghoulish voice said.

John turned to see the visage of the grim reaper. He started to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. With his hands on his hips and a foot-tapping, John grinned.

“Oh, for fucks sake. I suppose you’re going to tell me this lucid dream is real.”

“You just identified something not consistent with the dreams the telepaths of your kind feel in this dimension.”

“Then why are you here?” John was clearly not buying the explanation.

“I did not choose to be here. You summoned me for reasons unknown.”

“Why would I want, or need, to talk to you?”

“That is for you to ask your subconscious, I cannot answer that for you. Though I must admit that I did not find it displeasing to be called to you once more.”

John grinned, “I was ordered to sleep, so I slept. I have no desire to die, just to get back to my wife.”

“Worthy goal indeed. The dual nature of your kind is most interesting to the others. Your species' willingness to give so freely of oneself to another is rare for advanced species. Selflessness is a trait that is seemingly unique to your species.”

“Well, hell, since you’re here I may as well ask. Are you aware of what I was capable of prior to my injury?” John shrugged and decided to use this opportunity to get answers.

The grim reaper nodded.

“Is there a way to cure or fix that?”

“There is.”

John grinned, “I suppose that’s not something you can tell me, is it?”

The specter in front of John shook his cloak.

John looked around, “How the hell does this dimension make these dreams so fucking weird.”

“You’re back to dismissing that which you cannot explain through your known means. You’re an intriguing character, my young friend.”

“I’m not convinced any of this is real.”

“I suspect that it may be many years until you do come to accept this for what it is.”

John walked over to a broken bench and leaned against it. He thought back on his other lucid slip dreams. This was similar to them but decidedly different in important ways. John’s sense of touch was different here, it was almost like it was in the real world.

“What the hell?” John asked himself.

“It may be out of place for me to say this, but you are more than capable of ascending. In your parlance, you could be a peer to me. Or you could regain that which you cast away.”

“Are you saying I can do one or the other, but not both?”

“When one door opens, another closes.”

“What if I don’t want either?” John asked rhetorically.

“Then the doors remained closed. You are not predestined to either, you are free to choose your destiny.”

“Why would healing myself prevent me from ascending?”

“I didn’t say it prevents you, only that you wouldn’t be my equal.”

John was getting frustrated with the riddles and half-answers, “What would the other thing be then?”

The figure continued to float where it had been throughout the conversation. No movement could be detected. It seemed that no answer was forthcoming.”

“If you are real, why don’t you appear in front of me when I’m awake?”

An odd and slightly disturbing laugh emanated from the ghoulish figure, “We are not beings of flesh and bone. We exist everywhere but nowhere.”

John scoffed, “And Alice calls me obtuse from time to time.”

An evil-looking smile formed beneath the figure's hood, “Come now John, you know exactly of what I speak.”

“What would I become if I decided to join you down the road?”

“That is not known, not yet anyway. It appears our time is done. It will be some time until we meet again. I wish you well in your journey.”

John then woke up and very nearly jumped out of his bed. He stared at the ceiling and yawned. Ten seconds later the alarm started to ring.

“Fucking typical. Computer shut that damn thing off."

A harsh sound beep played followed by the computer's voice, “Unable to comply. Sailor remains on the bed in a sleeping position.”

John sighed as he rolled himself out of bed. The lights were brought to full power as he stretched. He walked over to the sink and held both sides of it as he looked into the mirror at himself.

“An aspect of what? That can’t be real.”

15:45 St. Mary’s Station, First Fleet Executive Briefing Room

Admiral Dufresne was sitting at the front of the table. The meeting hadn’t been called to order yet, but the room was abuzz. On the other side of the table, there were three Naval Intelligence officers that looked like they were sucking lemons. Most of the conversation surrounded the Des Moines or what the message meant.

“Alright, folks let’s get down to business. At 14:52 station time, we received a CNS Probe data burst from the Lambda Bootis system. In the message, it indicated that the Des Moines were still alive, and the Alliance battleships were carrying radiation of some sort,” Tim paused, “That’s the high level of what happened. The burst was not made with any standard encryption keys. It was broadcast to everyone.”

One of the intelligent officers rose their hand and then spoke, “We’ve already confirmed this information has been received in both Alliance and Mercantilist Union territories. The Alliance military has tried to scrub the message but it’s too widespread now. They are scrambling to do damage control with their population.”

A tactical officer asked, “Have we noticed any shifts in fleet movement?”

“We have, fleets that were massing along the border are falling back and spreading out in their territory as they were before the conflict.”

“Is it safe to presume the questionable nature of these old battleships was not made known to the civilian government?” Tim asked.

“The Alliance president, house, and senate are up in arms at the plans. Naval Intelligence will be sharing what we believe were the full plans for those battleships with senior leadership of the fleets. We expect a presentation to be made no later than tomorrow. We haven’t been able to get a detailed explanation of how the radiation is generated though.”

“Is this conflict ending?” another officer asked.

“The civilian government requested a conversation through standard diplomatic channels thirty minutes ago. Obviously, our preference is for it to end, but even with their de-escalation I wouldn’t at all be surprised with the civvies officially declaring war on the Alliance as they had on us.”

“About that sir,” another intelligence officer interjected, “We do not believe their civilian government actually declared war on us. Make no mistake, their actions did just that, but a more detailed reading into the bill that was passed indicated a special operation to liberate two systems.”

“Whether we call it a war, conflict, or special operation, we ought to know more surrounding the state of operations as early as tomorrow. Fleet command on Earth is asking that any forward scouts in enemy territory return home and await orders. We are not to initiate any hostilities with the enemy. Should any enemy vessels be found in our systems we will give them the option to jump out of the system.”

“Are we ignoring the monkey in the room? That the CNS Des Moines supposedly is out there?” a captain asked.

“We were getting to that Captain. I viewed the message with a great amount of skepticism. However, the actions the Alliance leadership has taken lead me to believe this message did come from our ship.”

“Admiral, we did an analysis of the message itself. It came from a probe that was assigned and loaded onto the Des Moines. Unfortunately, burst messages cannot contain much information, so who sent that message, beyond the ship, is unknown.”

“Tracking the Des Moines has been fruitless as we didn’t have any assets in Lambda Bootis. Not knowing the damage to the ship it’d be near impossible to know how far they could jump,” an engineering officer said, “I wouldn’t expect them to be able to make it to a safe system in a single jump.”

Another engineering officer spoke up, “And we don’t know how many jumps they could even make. Three or four jumps may well be their limit.”

“I want plans for a rescue mission should they be unable to get home. I want all our resources trying to track down this ship,” Tim commanded, “I want our attack wings on the ready as well. I appreciate their civilian government wanting to shut things down, but I’ll believe that when I see it.”

The meeting continued for another hour. A substantial number of tasks were generated and delegated. Tim was happy with the progress, but he was frustrated at not knowing where the Des Moines was much less being able to directly contact her crew.

The meeting was eventually ended, and the officers began to file out. Tim was taking his time stacking the data slates he was given to read. The senior-most intelligence officer remained in the room. Tim hadn’t noticed him initially until the other officer cleared their throat.

“Is there something I can assist you with Agent Lefebre?”

“This has already been shared with Admiral Dickinson, but we were ordered to read you into this,” the agent walked forward and handed the Admiral a data slate, “It’s a private communication between the chief engineer and Lieutenant Lief. The discussion surrounded Lief murdering the captain and first officer and assuming command.”

Tim looked at it and remained unconvinced, “Did the admiral ask how you may have come to receive this information? And do you have the unedited version of this?”

The agent shook his head, “Our capture and transmission protocols are need-to-know. That is all the information we have.”

“Interesting. What you present is a damning indictment of two individuals in the chain of command. Yet the conversation is incomplete. Until you either provide me the full recording or we have a conversation with the survivors then this,” Tim shook the data slate, “Is akin to garbage.”

“Admiral, Naval Intelligence…”

“Has a bone to pick with their one-time protégé. Now I have a bone to pick with you and your lot. If you want to take him down, then do so,” Tim flashed an evil grin, “Except you can’t can you? You can’t let slip to the Inspector General’s office how you groomed a teenager into a murdering machine. You can’t expose yourselves because you’d be caught in the explosive fallout.”

The agent shook his hands and head in protest.

“Agent, if you try and pass false or incomplete information to anyone in the Navy again, I will make it my life’s work to destroy you. Are we clear?”

The agent nodded and then exited. Tim listened to the exchange, the conversation between the two was bad, but it felt off. And the timing of this revelation was too perfect. The door to the meeting room opened and his senior aid walked in.

“Paul, get into contact with some of our trading partners that cross the border on a regular basis. We need to run this ourselves. NI has other schemes to play.”

“I’ve already done that sir. Two of them said they’d take on some personnel before disembarking from the station.”

“Do we have any contacts with any NI sources that have a grudge against their organization?”

“Sir?”

“I want the full recording of this,” Tim slid the data slate down the table.

“Having him here now would make this task much simpler. I’ll reach out but it may result in calling in a lot of favors.”

Tim nodded, “Do it. We shouldn’t have to fight this fight. If they are alive, we need to find them first.”