Near the Former Site of Marengo Station,

Sector 7-F.

Chase walked along the bridge of the Trafalgar. They’d managed to jump several systems over from the battle at Marengo Station. Currently, there was no indication that they had been pursued.

Instead, they had rendezvoused with the medical frigate Nightingale, where the last several hours had comprised unloading the survivors from Marengo Station.

They’d done all they could here, Chase was ready to get back to the archaeological site. He made his way down to the engine room. In a small one-man elevator. He stepped onto the platform, shut the gate to the walkway, and descended to the lower floor.

Dryden and his men were working and had been doing so around the clock to get the systems operational.

“How’s it looking?” Chase asked him.

Dryden was lying on his back with his hands raised into an access panel. Cables everywhere. He slid out and made half an attempt to hide the fact he really didn’t have time for this conversation, but not very well.

“Well, Lieutenant Commander, it’s bad,” said Dryden. “The ship is not going anywhere.”

“What do you mean?” asked Chase, raising his voice to be heard against the commotion. Engineers from Marengo had volunteered to help with repairs, and the engine room was the busiest it had been in over two centuries.

“When we made our initial jump, we must have blown something,” said Dryden, standing up and walking over to the large hard print manual he’d been flicking through. “This engine system was declared a failure when this ship went missing. Of course, later engineers figured out the problem, but by that point, everyone had seen the famous ship go missing on a live stream. There was about as much chance of making this engine viable after that as there was finding Zeppelin passengers after the Hindenburg.”

“Wasn’t the problem with the Hindenburg the need for an alternative source for hydrogen?” said Chase.

“No, it was the first disaster to be filmed live. No one was getting on one of those after that!” Dryden looked at him, irritated. “I’m an engineer, not a historian,” he said bluntly. “The fact is, the last person who worked on these engines died before your great-grandfather. We have only the manuals to go on,” he continued, picking up a spanner and walking back over to the main engine core.

For a moment, Chase was convinced Dryden was about to simply smack it and was ready to reach out a hand to stop him. “If this doesn’t work, how long will it take us to get back there to rendezvous with Mary Rose?”

“At best, two to three weeks,” said Dryden. “But the Trafalgar is not equipped with a conventional hyperdrive, they weren’t developed until after the jump drive proved unreliable. We’d need another ship or another engine,” said Dryden.

Chase thought this through. It made sense to have the conventional drive as a backup.

“I’ll start making calls to the Admiralty,” he replied.

Dryden looked confused. “Installing a conventional drive is difficult. I was just illustrating the point,” Dryden explained.

“Yeah, I got that,” said Chase, nonchalantly, “but it’s still a good idea. We’ll work on it.”

Dryden looked more confused than ever and went back to trying to find out why the jump drive wouldn’t jump. Chase headed for the secondary tier. He recognised engineers from Marengo Station working up there. They’d thrown themselves into their work to not think about the events of the last twenty-four hours. He didn’t blame them. He looked at the readouts. There were still repairs needed to the Trafalgar’s hull. Whilst its exterior armour held up mostly, it was certainly weakened by the conflict. Chase was impressed at just how well the ship had held out. They had gone up against a superior force and held their own. It was a shame that there wasn’t more in the way of backup.

He looked over the repair schedule. They could move on to defence systems and armaments once the ship was operational. The engine and hull could be worked on as they went, or at least when they arrived. He dreaded to think about what would happen to someone on the exterior during the jump.

Chase watched the activity continue in the engine room. He saw Dryden jump up from his position under the primary drive with a look of manic glee upon his face. He rushed over to the manual and started flicking through its ancient pages. He briefly ripped one; he was so eager to find what he was looking for.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“I’ve got it!” he exclaimed. Chase made it down to the lower level to see what all the commotion was about. Dryden was now at the terminal.

“We downloaded the logs from Nightingale, right?” he asked. Chase nodded. Dryden called them up.

“Yes!” he exclaimed.

“What is it?” asked Chase.

“You see this?” Dryden indicated the computer readout.

“The Nightingale has the real-time link.” Like all modern star-going vessels, a connection would be a standard requirement to the Cluster data network for shipping updates. “We have been able to download, not just all the information on the Trafalgar but on ships of the era, on this engine, the research that was done after the fact.”

That was great news. “It’s the chemical we use to cool the engines, but the navy swapped it out for a different chemical fifty years ago. If we drain the systems and replace it with the modern stuff, the engine will cool in an exponentially faster time. That’s the issue. Things are too damn hot to be used again—especially in quick succession,” Dryden was explaining with hand gestures. Chase was half expecting him to draw diagrams on the bulkheads.

“Where can we get some?” asked Chase.

“That’s the beauty of it! Any starport,” said Dryden, “but needing it now is the problem. We’re reaching out to Nightingale to see if there’s anything they can spare. Obviously, they need to get to the nearest station ASAP, so we can’t take too much.”

“Can we manufacture it?” said Chase.

Dryden thought on this for a moment, obviously checking in his head what every subsystem on the Trafalgar did.

“Yes! It’s very similar to that old subsystem byproduct we’ve got lining the cargo bay!” he exclaimed, jumping up with excitement and he was running down to the cargo bay. Chase ran after him.

“It’s not a lot, but it should be enough for this jump. We’ll be able to refuel once we’re back in the cluster,” said Dryden.

“How long do you think we’ll be able to get out of it?” asked Chase.

“Three, maybe five jumps, depending on how much time between jumps. If we need to make a couple of quick getaways, it might just be one or two. So don’t overdo it until we resupply,” said Dryden.

The main cargo bay contained several barrels of the needed chemicals.

“They kept it and used for cleaning the conduits,” said Dryden. “It’s not exactly the same thing as the modern stuff, but it’s close enough, and it should work.” Chase hit the wall panel and ordered any spare crewmen to help relay the barrels to main engineering.

The engine’s coolant systems took several hours to drain and swap it in for the new chemical. But once it was done, Dryden looked particularly smug.

“Well then,” said Chase. “Make ready for flight.”

“Aye, sir,” replied Dryden, and he turned to his engineering staff. “Make ready!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. The engineering team wasted no time in jumping into action. As a cheer went around the engine room, Chase returned to the bridge.

“Status report?” he asked Wokoma.

“Medical ship Nightingale has disembarked with the wounded. There is a complete manifest of the officers who chose to remain on board on your terminal, and Engineering reports ready.” replied Wokoma.

“Very good,” said Chase. “Make ready for jump.”

Wokoma turned to face him.

“Coordinates, sir?” she asked.

“Take us back to Pulsar Sky,” he replied. She began laying in the coordinates. “On your order, Lieutenant Commander Chase,” she said.

“Do it now,” he replied. His stomach felt less queasy this time, but he still felt like he was in a pinball machine, being thrown between different obstacles as the ship bent through various realities and twisted space itself to allow it to instantly appear across space, covering a distance that would usually take weeks of flight.

The ship was engulfed in a bright white flash that for a millisecond before showed every different colour like a prism, and in an instant, they were there, looking down at that familiar desert world.