S.S. Nelson

Hemera

Nathan Chase walked down the metallic corridor of the SS Nelson. It had been three weeks since they left port at Santiago. Like most of the crew, he was keen to have some shore leave on the planet Hemera, a world in the Alpha Persei Cluster. It was one of the newest settlements, barely two years old, made up of mostly farmers.

The Nelson was a frigate that, whilst not the newest, Chase was proud to be the executive officer aboard. Originally a scout ship during the early days of colonisation out in the Cluster, and had been the first ship to visit some of the worlds that now held the largest populations out here. These days the Nelson was used for small scale cargo runs. It had been an uneventful trip escorting a cargo hauler of grain and sheep.

The sheep had taken up the main cargo hold for the trip out, along with hay bales and fencing to keep them getting to the hold’s door. Several unfortunate lower deckers had been put in charge of clearing up after them on the understanding they would be rewarded with a supply of fresh cutlets before departure. Out this far, even the captain was lucky to get fresh meat more than once a week.

The five hundred sheep would bring the planet’s population to more sheep than humans, although Chase had been reassured that there were still quite a few humans living there. “Over five million in all,” said Chase.

“That’s a fair few people for a colony that size,” Lieutenant Winter, the Nelson’s tactical officer replied, handing him a slate over for him to sign.

“It’s a lot of mutton–”

“And we’ve had the honour of protecting them,” said Winter.

The ship’s tannoy sounded, echoing across the ship. “Lt Cmdr Chase to the command deck. I say again, XO to the command deck,”

Chase handed the Lieutenant back the slate and stylus and made his way to the nearest express elevator. He stepped into the small lift and called for the Bridge within moments, he found himself in the command deck of the Nelson.

The Nelson's bridge was a cramped long oval with stations around the outer walls and a seat for the captain directly in the centre with a view of the stars via the forward viewport. As executive officer, Chase usually stood, moving between one or more of these positions. The floor was metallic, and there was a distinct clunk when anyone walked along it.

There were some ships in the fleet that had luxurious carpets and meticulous decoration. The Nelson came from an era before any of that, when ships were built for function over elegance. And while the luxury might well be nice, or a shower with actual running water rather than sonic waves might be enjoyable, the crew of the Nelson prided themselves on going without.

“Ah good, the exec is here,” announced Captain Wessex, he was a man in his sixties with white hair and a thick moustache.

Chase saluted.

“Mr. Chase, I want you to command the ship into port.”

This was something usually reserved for the commanding officer, and Chase threw him a quizzical look. It wasn’t something Chase had done since he was first training. He felt confident enough that he could pull it off but it was an unusual request for the Captain to make of him.

“You’ll be commanding your own ship soon, I have no doubt. Quite possibly this one. So you best be ready,” the captain said, the slightest hint of a smile threatening to break out on the old man’s face.

Wessex had made several vague references to retirement over recent month, Chase wasn’t sure how serious he was about it, He knew Chase had a strong desire to one day command his own ship, and whilst the Nelson was not exactly his first choice, he would take it in a second.

“Helm, bring us into Standard Orbit. Comms, hail the dock master,” Chase issued the orders, sparing no time. Moreno, the young Italian woman at the communication station looked at him puzzled.

“There is no dock master, cCommander. It’s a farm,” the captain said quietly in his ear with a smirk and Chase felt his face flush. The bridge crew were far too professional to let any amusement show.

“Then have the farmers prepare for our arrival,” he said, slightly too defensively.

Moreno nodded and started typing the sequence at her terminal.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Have shuttle bays prepared for landings. Get the crew’s duty assignments posted,” he added, looking to the captain to make sure he approved.

The old man threw a nod.

Moreno put the telemetry on the main viewer. The small blue planet from orbit was replaced with a view of the landing site as the freighter came in to dock alongside one of their naval shuttles. The freighter was large, bulky, and slow, and the more aerodynamic shuttle slowed to let it take the lead.

The landing site was no more than a simple collection of easily transportable metal fencing used to create a pen with a corridor to the ship’s entry ramp. The freighter skillfully maneuvered to line up with this precisely, and Chase could now see the ramp lowering as the landing gear let out the usual spray of steam.

On the screen they say that the freighter’s captain, Jenkins, was first to disembark, followed by a procession of lambs. The sheep were guided into the pen and proceeded to trot of their own accord, no doubt happy to be under sky once more. A small sensor display scanned the animals as they came off, confirming their last medical checks and point of departure were correct.

Chase smiled at the simplicity of it all. A more basic existence almost had its appeal. Almost.

“Where are you going for your shore leave?” Weapons Officer Winter was asking. She had leaned over towards the helm. Winter was in her early thirties with hair dark as night. Having grown up in the slums of Williams town, she’d signed up straight out of school.

The pilot, Nora Moreno was twenty-five and blonde her family connections could have got her any number of jobs. But she’d enlisted because she wanted to fly. Yet the two had become best friends.

“Personally, I’m thinking of Willard Colony,” replied Moreno. “It’s about a quarter of the way round the world, not many people there. It’s about as rural as you can get, the most remote part of the most remote world in human space.”

“Why would you do that to yourself, Moreno?” Winter asked with mock disgust.

“Don’t you want to see what it’s like, Winter?” she replied with a grin.

“No, I do not. Do you XO?” They both turned to look at Chase.

Chase said, “I’ll be spending my time in the bars of Port Montgomery, and that’s about it.” There was a small pub that mainly served locally brewed beer of questionable quality, but Chase appreciated the downtime.

“You’re not even leaving the capital?” Winter sounded aghast. “Come on, Lieutenant Commander, there’s plenty of stuff to see and do other than the port town.”

“Personally, I’ll be more than happy when we are heading out of here and back to civilization,” said Chase. It had already been a long run, and while he knew it was uneventful, it was no bad thing.

The sheep were continuing to disembark. Chase did not feel inclined to watch every last one of them. “Let’s go back to standard view,” he told them.

“Not getting sleepy, are you, Lieutenant Commnader??” Winter taunted him.

“Very funny,” he said with a smirk.

“Actually, I’m feeling a bit tired myself,” Moreno admitted.

The view switched from an overhead view about fifteen metres up to one of the planet from orbit. The local star was in the far distance.

The ship’s systems toned the brightness so it wasn’t uneasy to look at. The main colonies were on the day side of the planet, with the night intersecting to the left of the image.

A bright flash shot across the screen. It was so fast Chase almost missed it. A moment later two more followed it on an almost identical trajectory.

“What was that?” he asked. The crew, lax in their initial oversight, immediately got to work.

“I’m not detecting anything,” Winter reported, managing to keep most of the panic from her voice. “Wait,” she said,

“There was something. It’s heading towards the surface.”

“Where?” Chase asked.

“Out near Willard Colony… No, right on top of it,” said Winter, the concern was now growing in her voice.

The screen switched over to an orbital view looking down at Hemera’s northern hemisphere. Willard Colony was on the night side, an icon on the screen highlighted its location where several lights could just be made out.

Chase watched on the screen as a bright flash erupted from the smallest settlement before immediately dissipating.

“Missile strike!” Winter confirmed.