Battleship Trafalgar

Pulsar Sky System

Chase stepped onto the bridge of the battleship Trafalgar, the command codes in his hand. In front of the main viewport was the commanding officer’s terminal, a small metallic plinth that gave continuous status updates. On the right was a narrow slot where the cylinder was to be inserted. The cylinder was thirty centimetres long and half a centimetre in diameter

A skeleton crew from the Mary Rose had arrived onboard and were preparing the various systems. Dryden had also returned and stood by Chase’s right-hand side. Chase stepped up to the console and inserted the cylinder. He held his breath… nothing happened.

So that was it then, Chase thought. All of this had been for nothing. Sure, they could retrieve the Trafalgar in time, once some tugs could be brought out here, and the engine studied, but for right now it was useless. He fought the urge to simply kick a bulkhead; there were too many people watching. He turned around to address Dryden, wanting to know the engineer’s thoughts on what their next step should be when he heard the computer chime.

“Codes accepted,” an artificial female voice said. There was the instant whirring of systems waking up.

“There, done it,” said Dryden as he took Chase’s hand and shook it vigorously. “Congratulations, Commander,” he said.

“Thank you very much, Mr Dryden,” Chase replied.

“Okay,” said Dryden, “this ship hasn’t been operational in centuries. It’s quite likely that the simple act of bringing things back online might send some systems out of whack. Keep an eye out for anything unexpected. The systems are generally in keeping with what you’re used to, but there will be slight differences. Be aware,” said Dryden as he moved about the bridge, inspecting the readouts from various stations. “Obviously, engineering is an entirely different matter, and we’re going to have to be very careful down there.”

The younger man looked like a Cheshire cat, grinning at the ship as it came back to life. Wokoma was at the communication terminal. Like every other station, the indicator lights had started flashing almost immediately. She appeared very concerned, one hand holding a headphone to her left ear.

Chase walked over to her. “What’s up?” he asked.

Wokoma held up a finger, indicating for him to give her a moment whilst she listened to the incoming transmission. Before talking she took the headphones off and laying them on her console.

“When the system was activated,” she explained, “long-range comms returned. I’ve been able to connect to the cluster military communications,” said Wokoma. “Good news, it is operational.”

“And?” Chase asked. Wokoma looked down at the terminal for a moment. Chase braced himself. This would not be good.

“I’m picking up a distress call. There’s been an attack.”

Chase felt a sense of dread kicking in. Wokoma looked him dead in the eyes.

“We’ve received a distress call from Marengo Station. They’re under attack and are in the process of evacuating.”

Marengo Station was an interstellar hub and a key outposts for the Navy as well as being a civilian trading port. It had been operational for the best part of this century and as with all navy sites, designed to withstand heavy bombardment. For them, to be evacuating was almost inconceivable.

“Is there any word on who the threat is coming from?” asked Chase.

“We can’t be sure,” she replied. “It’s an automated message.”

Chase knew what that meant—the signal you send only when you have enough time to get the basics out. There was only one thing for it.

“Relay out to Mary Rose,” Chase said, “and get me Harding on the line.”

Wokoma nodded. Chase heard Harding’s voice come in over the com.

“I assume you’re powering up the jump drive?” she asked him.

“Yes, ma’am,” Chase replied. “We are proceeding at the best possible speed to assist Marengo Station. I advise you to hold position here until we return.”

“Agreed,” said Harding, which Chase had not expected, especially as they were dealing with an unknown situation. The likelihood of them not returning was extremely high, but with the decision made, there was no more to discuss.

“Trafalgar out,” said Chase, and Wokoma terminated the signal.

“Dryden, let’s get down to engineering,” said Chase. As they headed off the command deck, he nodded to Wokoma. “Get as many weapons systems operational as you can. Get a count of the number of torpedoes. I’m hoping they’re still on board,” said Chase.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Initial checks confirm there are still torpedoes,” said Wokoma. “We’ll have a complete count for you.”

Chase nodded. The engine room was a bustle of activity, with two dozen crewmen were working on the various engine components. The cathedral-like facility was now fully lit for the first time and filled with the extra hands that had transferred over from the Mary Rose.

“Dryden, this is technology no one has used in two and a half centuries,” said Chase. “You sure you’ll get this to work?”

“A remarkable number of studies have been done with the specs over the years since the flight of the Trafalgar,” said Dryden, who was holding a different slate in each hand, looking over various schematics. “It took a couple of decades, but they figured out that went wrong was due to Stellar Drift. We’re adding a Redshift tracker to compensate.”

Chase nodded. “Well then, at your leave, Mr Dryden.” and stood back to let the engineers do their work. The main engine core was a bright yellow glow that had various clouds spinning around. Chase had, of course, read about the Trafalgar and seen videos, but this was something else entirely— for the first time that a jump drive had been powered up in centuries and Chase was seeing it with his own eyes,

“We’re about ready,” said Dryden. “The bridge has confirmed a course has been plotted for Marengo Station. Flight time…” and he paused for emphasis, “instantaneous.”

“That’s gonna be something to see,” said Chase. He accessed a nearby terminal and pulled up the navigation data.

“Engines ready,” a crew member called.

“Dryden hit the warm-up sequence and signal the bridge,” he nodded.

“Helm, jump,” said Chase. There was an acknowledgement from Wokoma, and then Chase’s stomach felt like it was spun. It was like being in freefall and also like he was pulling 5Gs in a takeoff manoeuvre all at the same time. The wall of the engine room looked like it was rushing towards him at 100 km an hour, and the floor like it was rushing away from him at the same speed. But then, in an instant, it was all over.

Chase still felt slightly nauseous. He hoped it was like getting one’s space legs—noticeable at first, but something you got used to. Focusing at the terminal. The readouts had now switched to a live external feed. All he could make out was debris, but according to the navigational readout, they were at Marengo Station.

***

Alert klaxons rang out as Chase took his first step out of the express elevator and back onto the bridge. He grabbed the nearest railing as the ship shook with the impact of weapons fire.

“Stellar positioning confirms we are at Marengo Station,” reported Wokoma from her seat at communications. “They are under attack by small fighter craft. There are—dozens of them.”

In the centre of the large bridge, a holographic display showed a simplified readout of the situation, identifying the station and the attacking forces with coloured icons.

“Can we raise the station?” asked Chase.

“I’ve been trying,” she replied.

“Weapons, target lock those fighters,” Chase ordered. He kept one hand on the railing as he made his way to the XO’s seat.

The fighters could be seen out of the forward viewport. They were circular, with gun turrets on either side of the central fuselage they were firing energy weapons at the station. As the Trafalgar came around, Marengo Station appeared to be very badly damaged.

There were multiple hull breaches where the atmosphere leaked into space, surrounded by debris fields. Chase did not want to think too closely about what or who that comprised. One of the larger breaches was near the main commerce level, Memories seeping in of the drink sharded with Wokoma on his last visit.

Why would anyone strike like this? Chase thought to himself.

“I’ve got a lock,” Wokoma said.

“Fire at will,” Chase ordered.

Although a larger ship, the Trafalgar was quite versatile, it’s manouvering thrusters kept it at pace with the much smaller and more manoeuvrable fighter craft.

“Forward cannons,” called Chase.

The compressed energy weapons shot out from either side of the forward viewport. Several made direct hits against the small fighters, which continued their attacks with no indication they had taken any damage. They banked to avoid continuing blasts before moving to evade.

“Perhaps they have some sort of advanced shielding?” suggested Wokoma.

Chase didn’t have time to speculate. He had to take these guys out.

“Target lock!” he ordered.