Collision Course
ESS Mexico (D-866)
Entering Omar System
May 21, 2487, 2214 UT
“You got this!” a voice shouted from the crowd surrounding the man on the bench. Yeoman First Class Bruce Tivis strained as he attempted to press the barbell from his chest, his arms shaking from the effort. 545 pounds would not only be his personal best, but also the ship’s record. Of course, the record didn’t really matter to the crewmembers who had wagered on Bruce’s success or failure. Money was on the line after all. Sweat beaded on the dark brown skin of Bruce’s forehead as inch by inch, the bar rose from his chest.
“Ughh!!!” Bruce cried out as he extended his arms completing the single rep and resulting in a loud cheer from the crowd surrounding him. Two men grabbed the bar and helped Bruce rack the barbell. Bruce sat up, breathing heavily as he received congratulations from those around him – even those who had lost money because of his success. After catching his breath, he rose to his feet. At 5’4” he was among the shortest crewmembers on Mexico, an aging destroyer assigned to Earth’s Fourth Fleet and currently forward deployed to Naval Base Quebec on Omar IV. But, despite his short frame, he was perhaps the strongest person on the sip, as evidenced by his new record. At one time, Bruce planned a career in boxing. But once he joined the Navy, he never looked back. He loved the comradery of the fleet, the trips through space and the visits to other planets.
“Damn, Bruce,” Quarter Master First Class Trevor Ryan said. The 34-year-old was Bruce’s best friend. They had gone through Naval Boot Camp together sixteen years ago at Naval Base Bravo on Mars and had served together planet side at Naval Base Delta on Lucai II from 2480 to 2482 before meeting again last year when Bruce reported for duty on Mexico. Trevor slapped Bruce on the Back. At 6’1” and weighing only 145 pounds, Trevor was physically the opposite of Bruce. “That was amazing.”
“Thanks,” Bruce replied. He flexed his arms trying to release the tension from his chest as more crewmembers made their way over to congratulate him.
Three decks up, Captain James Allen, commanding officer of ESS Mexico stepped onto the ship’s bridge.
“Captain on the bridge!” Lieutenant Clark Baxton, the Officer of the Deck shouted at noticing the Captain’s arrival. On the bridge, due to the nature of their duties, the crew did not come to attention when the Captain arrived on the bridge, but instead simply acknowledged his arrival. Captain Allen made his way to his chair located forward on the starboard side of the bridge allowing him a clear view out of the angled windows. Several displays and a comm unit were on the bulkhead forward of the chair within easy reach for the Captain.
He looked out of the windows, then down at the monitors noting the ship’s current heading and speed. He then noted the ship’s position just inside the limits of the Omar System. It was the largest system in the Young-Wise sector, consisting of eight planets, only one of which—Omar IV—was inhabited. Omar IV was a terraformed planet with a varied climate similar to Earth but consisting of a single large continent surrounded by a single ocean. Despite the similar atmosphere and climate, the planet remained sparsely populated. It was, however, the home of Naval Base Quebec, the forward most of Earth’s two naval bases in the sector. Since the War at Masic Point, Naval Base Quebec had been largely ignored by Earth and the Navy which kept most of the fleet at Naval Base Oscar at Kylar II and a Masic Point since the war ended there over twenty years ago. Only a small force of three destroyers (including Mexico) and the cruiser Lake Erie were homeported at the naval base along with a battalion of Naval Assault Forces troopers.
But, with the war between Batron and Antron in its second year and tensions increasing between Batron and Earth over Earth’s continued trade with Antron—including sales of weapons, the four aging ships were increasingly being ordered to escort cargo ships through increasingly dangerous shipping lanes. Not that Captain Allen was complaining. The escort duty gave Mexico and the other ships at Omar IV more time in space than almost any other ship in the Navy and the experience showed in the increasingly efficient operation of Mexico.
Down in the ship’s gym, the celebration of Bruce Tivis’s accomplishment began to break up. Once again, Trevor Ryan approached Bruce, this time carrying two bottles of water.
“Man, congratulations again,” Trevor said handing Bruce one of the waters.
“Thanks,” Bruce replied thankful for both the words as well as the water. He opened the bottle and took a large drink.
“Do you ever regret not getting out of the Navy and having that boxing career you wanted?” Trevor asked.
“No, why?” Bruce replied.
“Just, if I was you, I might have done that. Man, you could have been the champ. You are stronger, faster and have more heart than any of those chumps boxing right now.”
“Yeah,” Bruce said after a moment of thought. “But, do you know where I got that heart? Right here, from guys like you. The Navy is my life. I have no regrets.” Bruce drank the last of the water and put the bottle in the recycler.
Trevor put his in the recycler too. “Well, I hate to do this, but I need to get some rack time. I have the four to eight watch.”
“Understood,” Bruce replied. The two men headed out of the gym. Trevor turned right heading toward the forward crew berthing, while Bruce turned left, heading aft toward the ladder that led up to the Mess Deck, where he grabbed a snack as the ship continued toward Omar IV.
* * * * *
Batronian Stealth Ship 1821
Near Omar VII
May 21, 2487, 2236 UT
The Commandant of the Batronian Stealth Ship watched Earth’s approaching destroyer from the bridge. The ship, like all Batronian ships didn’t have a name. To the Batronians, a ship was simply a tool and didn’t need a name. The stealth ship was in stealth mode making it practically invisible to sensors and sight. This was important since the ship was operating illegally inside of Earth’s territory.
The Commandant watched the destroyer approach with the bridge alive with activity. He maneuvered the ship in front of the destroyer, facing it. All four forward missile tubes were loaded with Batron’s newest anti-ship missiles and were locked onto the destroyer. Of course, today the Commandant would not give the order to fire. Today was just training—making sure his crew could get into position, making sure they could lock their missiles onto the human’s ship and making sure the humans did not detect the stealth ship. So, today, he would not fire. The war hadn’t begun yet. But when it did, his mission would be to eliminate the four ships the humans had in the Omar system. He watched as the destroyer grew larger in the bridge window.
the Commandant ordered. Time to get out of here, he thought.
<Sir, thrusters not responding!> the helm replied just before electrical power failed on the bridge.
What? the Commandant asked himself as he checked the status of the stealth field generator. Fortunately, and to his relief, the generator was still working, and his ship was still invisible. Now he just had to figure out how to get his ship out of the way of the rapidly approaching destroyer.
* * * * *
ESS Mexico (D-866)
Near Omar VII
May 21, 2487, 2239 UT
Captain Allen took a sip of coffee as he looked out at the uninhabitable ball of ice that was Omar VII. Around him, his crew efficiently performed their duties that over the past two years had become routine. As he looked out of the bridge window, he saw the bow of the ship begin to mysteriously crumble.
The sound of the hull giving way reverberated throughout the ship. The ship shook violently, throwing many of the officers and crew of Mexico off of their feet—those who were awake that is. Those who were sleeping their bunks were thrown out and tumbled to the deck. A Machinist Mate fell from the ladder leading to the Number Two Engineroom breaking his neck.
On the bridge and in damage control central, alarms rang out and lights flashed as forward compartments on decks one through four were opened to space. Emergency bulkheads closed sealing off compartments that were venting air into space. Fires broke out in several compartments where the air wasn’t vented.
Captain Allen had been flung forward but managed to remain in his seat. He straightened himself off as the collision alarm rang out and looked forward just as the Stealth Ship came out of stealth mode and returned to normal mode becoming visible. The stealth ship, smaller and more lightly armored than Mexico, had been severely damaged, the bow of the ship almost completely separated from the rest of the ship. Why is there a stealth ship here? Captain Allen asked himself. While Earth’s Stealth Ships occasionally entered the system, they never entered it in stealth mode to prevent collisions like this. Why? James asked himself again. Despite his confusion, Captain Allen reacted instinctively. “I have the con,” he said taking command of the bridge and control of the ship. “Sound General Quarters.”
“Aye, sir,” the Boatswain’s Mate of the Watch replied, her eyes wide in shock. She triggered the ship’s main intercom on the comm unit located on the aft bulkhead of the bridge. “Collision forward near frame ten! General Quarters! General Quarters! All hands man your battle stations! This is not a drill!” she shouted over the intercom. Following the announcement, she pressed the button sounding the klaxon throughout the ship.
On the mess decks, located aft of frame 90 on the fourth deck, two decks below the bridge, Bruce Tivis and the other dozen or so crewmembers who were either eating or playing cards together picked themselves up off the deck the collision knocking them all off of their feet. Bruce had hit the deck hard, smashing his nose on the table as he went down, dazing him. Through the daze, he heard the collision alarm sound. The lights flickered but remained on. Blood flowed from his nose as he looked around the room, his mind struggling to make sense of what happened. What the hell did we hit? he asked himself. He grabbed a handful of napkins from the dispenser on the table and pressed them to his nose just as the Boatswain’s Mate’s voice came over the intercom ordering the crew to General Quarters. Bruce exited the mess decks to the port side making his way to the ladder leading down to the third deck.
He made it to the ladder and quickly descended and started moving forward. His Battle Station was Repair Locker two about ninety feet forward of the ladder. Emergency bulkheads had already closed along the passageway leading forward. Bruce arrived at the first one and felt the hatch with the back of his hand. Cool to the touch, he opened the hatch and moved into the next compartment, closing the hatch behind him. A light whisp of smoke lingered in this passageway along with a burnt odor, not strong, but certainly noticeable. Fires nearby, Bruce noted.
Bruce moved through the corridor coming to the door leading to Repair Two to his right. Opening the door, Bruce stepped into the repair locker. Repair Two was a beehive of activity. On the wall display console located along the aft bulkhead, flashing lights and blaring alarms indicated the severity of the damage to the forward part of the ship. As he donned his pressurized damage control suit, Bruce noticed that several of the forward compartments were open to space. What did we hit? he asked himself again as he finished suiting up and waited for instructions.
Back up on the bridge, Captain Allen looked out of the window noting both the damage to his ship as well as the stealth ship they had hit. The bow damaged from the thinly armored stealth ship obviously even more seriously damaged in the collision than Mexico. The stealth ship was slowly drifting away from Mexico, carried by inertia and not under its own power. Despite the chaos around him and his own confusion, he quickly scanned the other ship looking for any markings to identify it but found none. He reached down and pressed a button on his comm unit.
“Damage Control Central, Bridge,” he said contacting the Damage Control Assistant (DCA) Lieutenant Pamela Barnes, who was the officer in charge of damage control on Mexico.
“Central, aye,” Pamela responded over the comm.
“Damage report,” the Captain inquired.
“Repair Two is just manning up. We’ll have damage control teams on the scene shortly and more information then. However, sensors indicate several comparts on decks one through four open to space. High temp alarms indicate several fires have broken out. There are going to be personnel casualties, but I have no idea how many. Obviously, this is a major catastrophe, but I’ll know more when damage control teams are on the scene,” Pamela reported.
“Very well. Keep me informed,” Captain Allen replied.
“Captain, helm is not responding,” the helmsman reported, his fingers moving rapidly over the helm’s control pad.
“Very well, secure main thrusters,” the Captain quickly ordered.
“Secure main thrusters, aye, sir,” the helm answered pressing the appropriate controls to carry out the order and stopping the ship. “Main thrusters secured, sir. Forward thrusters are offline.”
“Very well,” Captain Allen replied. The Captain turned as the XO arrived on the bridge. “XO, send a message to Naval Base Quebec and Fourth Fleet. ESS Mexico involved in a collision with a stealth ship that was operating in stealth mode and give our position. Both ships are heavily damaged. More to follow.”
* * * * *
Batronian Stealth Ship 1821
Near Omar VII
May 21, 2487, 2241 UT
Less than two minutes after the collision and the Batronian Commandant already knew his ship was in grave danger. From the forward bridge window, he watched as the bow section of his ship finally broke loose of the rest of the ship and began to drift away. Like Mexico, alarms blared, and warning lights flashed on consoles around the bridge. Engines, thrusters and the stealth generator were all offline. It took less than two minutes since the collision for the Commandant to realize all was lost. Around him, he could feel the pain and anxiety of his crew through the social bond that connected Batronians. But his crew and himself had one last duty to perform.
he ordered sentencing his crew and himself to death. Detonating the weapons loaded in the tube would destroy the ship and it was important that Earth had no evidence that a Batronian stealth ship was operating in the Omar system. The weapons officer stared at the Commandant in shock.
* * * * *
ESS Mexico (D-866)
Near Omar VII
May 21, 2487, 2241 UT
Captain Allen had his head down changing his comm unit when Mexico was rocked again when the mysterious stealth ship suddenly exploded. A pinging sound came from the hull as pieces of the stealth ship struck Mexico.
“What the hell was that?” he heard someone on the bridge yell. A screeching sound from Mexico’s hull could be heard as metal twisted, followed by a large crack as something within the ship snapped.
Down in the Number One Engineroom on the first deck, Engineman First Class Jimmy Forbes was trying to keep the number one engine running. Although the engines weren’t used for ship’s propulsion while in system (thrusters were used instead due to the gravitational stresses created by faster than light travel), the engines still ran to provide the ship with power for electricity and water.
A pipe burst behind Jimmy, the second coolant pipe to rupture since the collision. “Close that valve Becky!” Jimmy ordered Engineman Apprentice Rebecca Pierce, pointing to a cutout valve. At eighteen, Rebecca was just two months out of Engineman “A” school and was still qualifying for watches on Mexico. As she strained to close the valve, the “low coolant pressure” alarm sounded.
Jimmy touched a button on the engine’s control pad silencing the alarm. Seconds later, a “high temperature” alarm went off. “Shit!” Jimmy shouted, silencing the new alarm. He watched the temperature gauge climb as the coolant pressure gauge dropped to zero. A squealing sound could already be heard coming from the engine’s overheated bearings. Jimmy toggled the comm. “Main Control, Engine One. I have to shut her down,” he told the Chief Engineer whose battle station was Main Control located at the forward end of the Number One Engineroom.
Jimmy pressed the large red emergency stop button and the engine screeched to a stop. Smoke and an odor of hot metal came from the engine. The overhead lighting went out and the emergency lanterns came on dimming the space and casting long shadows around Jimmy.
“Get me a round of readings,” Jimmy ordered Becky. “Temperature and pressure.”
“Aye,” Becky responded. To her credit, her voice remained calm despite the unfolding catastrophe occurring around her and her inexperience on the ship.
Bruce Tivis had just finished donning his Damage Control Suit when the stealth ship exploded, rattling the ship and knocking him and several of his shipmates off their feet and setting off more alarms in Repair Two. Damn, what was that? he asked himself as the emergency battle lanterns came on. But there would be time to figure that out later. Now was the time for action and his team was ready.
“Let’s move out,” Bruce ordered the Number Three Damage Control Team, the damage control team that he led. The team consisted of ten members, including himself and was divided into two five-member hose teams (numbered one and two). Each member of the team was loaded down with gear including hoses, axes and patches for temporarily sealing hull openings, as well as various other hand tools. The Number Three Damage Control Team exited Repair Two and headed forward.
* * * * *
Private Home of Captain Amber Harrington
Naval Base Quebec, Omar IV
May 21, 2487, 1942 Local, 2242 UT
The comm unit chimed as Amber Harrington, Commanding Officer of Naval Base Quebec, had just finished dishes from the dinner she had enjoyed earlier with her son Howard and daughter Anne Marie. Howard and Anne Marie. It was the last day before Howard and Anne Marie would return to Kylar II where Amber had been stationed before taking command of Naval Base Quebec eighteen months ago. Her children, who had both been born and raised on Kylar II, were enrolled at the University of Natasha there. They had arrived a week ago during a break between semesters and would be leaving on an early flight tomorrow morning and had returned to their hotel in Zelerod, the capital of Omar IV.
Amber looked over to the comm unit, a realization coming to her. A long, shrill single note continued to be emitted from the comm without interruption. This indicated an emergency call from the base’s operation center where the Command Duty Officer was stationed.
She walked over to the comm unit and toggled it to receive the heavily encrypted signal. “This is Captain Harrington,” she said.
“Captain, this is Lieutenant Command Dawson, Command Duty Officer,” a voice reported formally. “We have received Emergency Flash Traffic from ESS Mexico. She reports that she has collided with a stealth ship that was operating in stealth mode near Omar VII heavily damaging both ships. The stealth ship has since exploded and has been destroyed.”
“What stealth ship?” Amber asked, stunned by the report. Any stealth ship should have requested permission to conduct operations in any system and Amber would have been informed if any had. Any stealth ship Captain in any of Earth’s fleets knew the rule which existed to prevent an accident like this.
“It wasn’t one of ours,” Dawson reported.
“Not one of ours,” Captain Harrington repeated considering the consequences of those words. Even in her shock, she issued orders decisively. “Order the base to Alert Delta. Notify Lake Erie to get underway with her destroyers. Launch all available fighters and four flights of attack craft. I’m on my way.” If it wasn’t one of Earth’s stealth ships, then it shouldn’t have been in the Omar system at all. And only one other race of beings had stealth ships in the sector—the Batronians.
* * * * *
ESS Mexico (D-866)
Adrift Near Omar VII
May 21, 2487, 2243 UT
The first injured crew member arrived at the Forward Battle Dressing station just four minutes after the collision. Quarter Master Apprentice Ralph Graham screamed out in pain as he was moved from the stretcher to the exam table, his leg clearly broken. The injured man was wearing only boxers and a T-shirt and had blisters on his hands. The 19-year-old had to be strapped down the examination table as he writhed in pain.
“What happened to him?” Hospital Corpsman Peter Sheffield asked as he stepped up to the table pulling on fresh gloves as he did.
“Fell off the top bunk,” one of the stretcher bearers reported. “Tried to get up and burnt his hands on the deck. Apparently, a fire in the compartment below him.”
Ralph screamed in pain as Peter began his assessment. The Forward Battle Dressing Station, manned only when the ship was at General Quarters and located just forward of the Chief’s Lounge on the fourth deck of Mexico, was a triage center, designed to treat injured or wounded crewmembers during emergencies and return them to their Battle Station or move them to Main Medical once they were stabilized if the person was unable to return to duty. Peter quickly realized that Ralph Graham would need to be moved to Main Medical once Peter had stabilized him.
Peter began by hooking up an IV and starting a morphine drip. The effect was almost instantaneous as Ralph’s screaming suddenly ended. The burns on Ralph’s hands received an antibiotic spray and his hands were wrapped in fresh bandages. Next, Petter moved to Ralph’s leg. The leg was clearly broken, but the bone had not penetrated the skin. A simple fracture, Peter quickly diagnosed. It would need x-rayed then set. Peter pulled out an air splint and wrapped it around Ralph’s leg as another injured man, this one unconscious, was brought in and placed on the other exam table. As soon as the air splint was inflated, Peter told the stretcher bearers to transport Ralph to Main Medical. Peter changed his glove as he moved to the man laying on the other exam table.
Bruce Tivis led the Number Three Damage Control Team forward on the third deck through the dimly lit passageway. The lights from the damage control suits sliced through the smoke-filled air. He arrived at the door at frame 22 that led into the Forward Crew Berthing. The hose teams took up position behind him as he opened the air-tight hatch. A whooshing sound and a buildup of air pressure in his suit were all the indicators Bruce needed to realize that there was a hull breech in the compartment. Bruce entered the space, shocked at the sight before him.
The Forward Crew Berthing compartment began with the forward bulkhead at frame 6 and extended to the aft bulkhead at frame 22, a total distance of 32 feet. Now, however, everything forward of frame 12 was simply gone—opened directly to space. You could walk straight out of the ship, Bruce thought awed by the sight. Bruce could see debris flashing outside of the ship through the opening and some bodies drifting by. The remainder of the compartment was a mass of twisted metal from the deck plates and the bulkheads, twisted bunks and lockers thrown about. A few bodies were trapped in the debris, but with no air in the compartment, there were obviously no survivors.
“Backing out!” Bruce shouted to the rest of the team as he began backing to and then through the hatch. He resealed the hatch and slapped a bright yellow square sign on it. “OPEN TO SPACE! DO NOT ENTER!” the sign warned. The Damage Control Team’s messenger then commed Repair Two which would pass the information on to Damage Control Central.
In Damage Control Central, located aft of the ship’s gym and forward of Mexico’s four aft crew berthing compartments, Lieutenant Pamela Barnes was beginning to receive the initial damage reports from Repair Two’s five damage control parties and was piecing together a picture of the damage to Mexico. And the picture was not good. She reached over to the comm unit in the darkened room, illuminated only by the emergency battle lanterns.
“Captain, Damage Control Central,” she said into the comm unit.
“Captain, aye. What’s the story Lieutenant?” the Captain replied.
“Sir, we have major damage to the entire forward part of the ship. The forward thrusters, forward missile launchers, forward emergency generator, turret one and gun mounts 31 through 34 all destroyed or heavily damaged and out of commission. There are numerous fires forward of frame 40 and the ship is open to space at frame 10 on decks one through four. The number one engine is down. Engineering is trying to find a way to restore electrical power to the forward half of the ship. The ship is severely damaged, nearly catastrophically,” Pamela reported.
“Estimated time we need to get underway?” the Captain asked
“Sir, we can’t even begin to repair this type of damage until we reach dock. Without the forward thrusters, we can’t steer or control the pitch of the ship. All that the damage control teams can do for now is put out fires and isolate the vented compartments. There may be a few compartments that we can seal the breeches in and repressurize, but most need dock work. I hate to say it, sir, but we’re going to need towed,” Pamela reported.
* * * **
Delta Flight
Breaking Orbit, Omar IV
May 21, 2487, 2248 UT
Just nine minutes after the collision, Commander Terrance Franklin led Delta Flight, consisting of four SA-18s, the Earth’s latest attack spacecraft out of Omar IV’s atmosphere and into the darkness of space. Terrance kept his thrusters to full power and the nose of the spacecraft pointed away from the planet as the broke free of Omar IV’s gravitational field. Delta Flight’s SA-18s were armed with eight AM-2 short range missiles and fully charged 20-mm lasers.
“Delta Flight, this is Delta Leader, arm your missiles,” Terrance ordered his flight over the comm. Like everyone else, he had no idea why a stealth ship was in stealth mode while inside the Omar system, but he knew that Naval Base Quebec wouldn’t have ordered Delta Flight to take up position and defend ESS Mexico from any threat had it been any of Earth’s own stealth ships.
He toggled his missiles to armed and selected the outboard missiles on each wing of the spacecraft as Delta Flight raced toward Omar VII
* * * * *
ESS Mexico (D-866)
Adrift Near Omar VII
May 21, 2487, 2449 UT
Flames flared out from the hatch as soon as the hatch was opened, forcing Yeoman First Class Bruce Tivis to a crouch as the flames passed over his head. He turned on the nozzle of his hose, sweeping it back and forth spraying a stream of water at the base of the flames. The Personnel Office he worked in was fully engulfed by fire—the first fire that Damage Control Team Three had encountered since the collision.
Bruce advanced slowly, the remainder of the team on Hose One dragging the hose behind him. The heavy smoke reduced his visibility to almost nothing in the empty office. The only real source of light came from the lights on his Damage Control Suit. He continued to sweep at the pale orange glow of the flames, carefully advancing further into the compartment. Desks, computer consoles and cabinets were strewn throughout the compartment, thrown around by the force of the collision. Toward the forward end of the office, Bruce noticed the deck had been bent slightly upward. Bruces light revealed scorching on the bulkheads as the result of the fire. The heat in the compartment penetrated his suit and sweat formed along his brow.
The number two hose team had moved to Bruce’s left working the fire from another angle, both teams working together silently and efficiently because of steady training. They quickly brought the fire under control and just five minutes after entering the compartment, they had the fire out.
Down in the Number One Engineroom, Engineman First Class Jimmy Forbes continued to assess the damage to the Number One Engine. The bearings on the engine were shot and it would take hours to replace them assuming that the bearings were in stock. Otherwise, the bearings would have to be fabricated in the machine shop and that would take several days more. Shit, Jimmy thought. There was no way that the Number One Engine could be restarted.
Jimmy looked up and saw Perry Goodwin, a First Class Electrician’s Mate, approaching him. Perry and Jimmy had much in common. Both had joined the Navy in May of 2472, though they were in different companies in boot camp. Both had attended “A” school on Mars, though different schools—Jimmy to Engineman’s “A” school while Perry attended Electrician’s Mate “A” school—to learn their trades. And ten years later, they had served together on the cruiser ESS Salt Lake for two years, becoming good friends. Both were “snipes”—Navy slang for Engineers. They had reconnected when Jimmy reported for duty on Mexico a year ago.
“Well, Jimmy, how bad?” Perry asked. As the Electrician’s Mate of the Watch, he was responsible for the two generators in the Number One Engineroom. Unfortunately, the generators required power from the engine to generate electrical power for the forward half of the ship when the ship was at Battle Stations. At Battle Stations, the ship’s two engine rooms were placed in “split-plant” operation to prevent damage from systems in one engine rooms causing damage to the systems in the other one. Normally, the engines were “cross-connected” with the systems working together for both engine rooms.
“It’s bad,” Jimmy said, sitting down a wrench. He picked up a rag and wiped the grease from his hands. “We may need to dock just to begin repairs.”
“We need to get electrical power restored,’ Perry said. He thought briefly. “What’s the status of the Number Two engine?”
“Hell, I haven’t even thought about what’s going on back there. Let me check,” Jimmy replied. He went to the comm unit at his station and pressed a button and connected to the Number Two Engine’s station located in the Number Two engine room directly aft of the Number One engine room. “Number Two, Number One. What’s your status?”
“Number One, Number Two. It was shaky for a minute but we’re still running. What about you?” came the reply.
“Number Two, Number One. We’re out of commission and probably won’t be back up for some time,” Jimmy replied. Jimmy thought for a second, then pressed a button correcting the comm unit to Main Control to speak to the Chief Engineer. “Main Control, Number One. Sir, I recommend that we cross-connect the plants. Number One engine is OOC for the foreseeable future. If we cross-connect we can at least restore electrical power forward.”
“Understood,” the Chief Engineer replied. He gave it a moment’s thought. The ship wasn’t in battle and with the other ship gone, further damage was unlikely. “Cross-connect the plants,” he ordered. A minute later, the lights flickered back on in the forward compartments of the ship including the bridge.
* * * * *
Operations Center
Naval Base Quebec, Omar IV
May 21,2487, 2010 Local, 2310 UT
Captain Amber Harrington walked into the Operations Center of Naval Base Quebec, now in uniform and with questions running through her mind. Where did the stealth ship come from? and were there more of them out there? were possibly the two most important questions. It seemed cruel to think that the condition of Mexico and her crew were not at the top of the list. While Amber was concerned with the loss of life, her primary duty was the security of the Omar system, which had been compromised by the unknown ship that Mexico had accidently discovered.
The main room of the Operations Center was large and open with rows of terminals where operators sat communicating with other commands within the base or in orbit above, monitoring the status of defense systems, reading displayed sensor data and monitoring comms. The large central room was surrounded by offices and conference rooms, most of which were empty at this time of night. But the main room was buzzing with activity as the red-headed Commanding Officer moved toward her station at the rear of the room. A man wearing the insignia of a Naval Commander approached her.
“Captain,” Commander Luke Wilholm, Naval Base Quebec’s Executive Officer and Amber’s second in command said. “ESS Lake Erie and her destroyers have detected no other ships in the system and the System Monitoring Center is not detecting any unusual activity inside or outside of the system. Mexico has reported that she has suffered serious damage and is adrift. I recommend that we dispatch tugs escorted by two for the destroyers to prepare Mexico for towing to dock.”
Amber took a minute to study the system’s sensors on her monitor. All civilian ships were being held outside of the Omar system and those inside of the system were being held in docks. Only Earth’s four warships and spacecraft appeared on the sensor display. Of course, there wouldn’t be anything else on the display if there was a stealth ship out there, Amber thought as she considered her decision.
“Are we sure that this isn’t a major screwup and it’s one of our stealth ships?” Amber asked.
“Stealth Squadron Ten reports that they have no stealth ships operating in or near the Omar system,” Luke replied bringing up the message on his comm unit and showing it to her. She studied it for a minute and then turned her head toward the Executive Officer.
“Very well. Dispatch two of the destroyers to escort the tugs to Mexico. Let’s get her docked and find out exactly what happened,” Amber ordered.
“Aye, ma’am,” Luke responded and then moved off to carry out her orders.
* * * * *
ESS Mexico (D-866)
Adrift Near Omar VII
May 21, 2487, 2320 UT
The fires were out, at least that was what had been reported to YN1 Bruce Tivis when Damage Control Team Three changed out air supplies in Repair Two ten minutes ago. Now he led the team forward along the third deck, retracing the route they had taken earlier. With the fires out and depressurized compartments isolated, the damage control party’s mission would shift. Now they would concentrate on patching the hull where possible and recovering injured and dead crewmembers. After seeing the amount of damage to the ship, Bruce did not look forward to this part of the operation.
With electrical power restored returning light to the passageway leading to the door at frame 22, things looked almost normal, like the collision had been a bad dream. But the yellow sticker warning of the danger beyond the hatch remained on the door. It wasn’t just a bad dream. Bruce stopped at the door, officially door 3-22-2. He waited until the hatch behind the damage control team was closed and sealed. He then had one of Damage Control Team Three’s members set up the Compartment Decompression Unit. Commonly known as the “Big Red Sucker” due to its bright red color, the machine was box shaped, measuring approximately 8’ x 6’ x 8’. It would pull the air out of space, creating a vacuum. The unit would hold the air until they were ready to repressurize the space. This would allow the damage control party to pull the air of this passageway and enter the already vented forward berthing compartment without venting more precious air into space.
The Big Red Sucker was turned on and Bruce Felt the air pressure in his suit start building up in response to the change of air pressure in the passageway. Ito took several minutes for the Bed Red Sucker to shut down, a light on it signaling that the air had been removed from the passageway. Bruce opened door 3-22-2. Lighting, as expected, was out in the berthing compartment, but light from the passageway combined with the lights on his damage control suit allowed Bruce clear visibility as he entered the compartment.
Bruce had served 17 years in the Navy. During that time, he had seen fires on ships and even once, while serving on ESS Japan, had been in a minor collision. But, as he looked at the ruins of the Forward Berthing Compartment, he realized he had never seen damage like this. With air no longer being vented from the compartment, debris had settled to the deck. Bruce stared through the gaping hole at the forward end of the compartment seeing a spacecraft flash by. As he looked around, he saw the deck and bulkheads were buckled. Bunks and lockers were strewn around the compartment, laying amid clothing and personnel items belonging to the crewmembers who lived here. There were several bodies tangled in the remains of bunks, and one caught between two lockers. Bruce again looked at the opening on the other side of the compartment, knowing that most of the crew who had been in the compartment when the collision occurred were pulled out of the ship and into space.
It was the third body that Bruce was helping remove caught beneath a collapsed bunk. The face was swollen and discolored which caused Bruce not to immediately recognize his friend Trevor Ryan. Once he realized who it was, he froze staring. His stomach tightened and rolled. Just an hour ago, his best friend had been cheering him on while Bruce pushed himself to set the bench press record. He couldn’t really be dead. He began shaking violently, so violently that he had to allow someone else to help remove the body. He watched with his vision blurred with tears as they placed Trevor in a body bag.
* * * * *
Naval Tug 2214
Approaching ESS Mexico (D-866) Near Omar VII
May 21, 2487, 2357 UT
It was nearing midnight when the four naval tugs approached Mexico with Omar VII in the background and two destroyers escorting them. Chief Quartermaster Douglas Henry carefully piloted his tug, numbered 2214, through the debris field surround Mexico. The 53-year-old Chief was a veteran of the War at Masic Point and unlike Bruce Tivis, had seen damage like this before during that war. Seeing the ship adrift, dead in space, brought war memories to his mind. The screams and the smell of a damaged ship were something never truly forgotten.
Douglas pushed the memories aside as he concentrated on getting the tug into position, zigzagging his way through debris from both Mexico and the mysterious stealth ship. His tug was a one-person spacecraft. Visually, it resembled a large cargo shuttle. It consisted of a pilot house with just enough room for the controls and the pilot to take a few steps to look through portholes on both sides and the rear, and a large engine compartment located behind the pilot house. The large engines on a craft that was only 30’ long gave the tugs the muscle power to move the much larger ships they towed.
Chief Henry maneuvered his tug alongside Mexico. He liked operating the tug. It was a great way to end his career. Just six months until retirement, he thought as he pressed a button on his comm unit. Of course, the Chief had no way of knowing that in less than two weeks, his contract would be extended for “the duration of the war.”
* * * * *
ESS Mexico (D-866)
Adrift Near Omar VII
May 22, 2487, 0008 UT
“Captain, Tug 2214 reports ready for docking clamp five,” the Communications Technician handling the short-range voice comm unit reported.
“Very well,” Captain Allen replied. He turned to another member of his crew who manned internal an internal comm unit. “Have them extend docking clamp five.”
Captain Allen moved to the Starboard Bridge Bubble, a clear enclosure that gave a view of the starboard side of the ship. The bubble’s clear deck, bulkhead and overhead gave the illusion of floating in space. Captain Allen faced aft and watched as docking clamp five extended then attached to the tug. He then looked forward to where docking clamp three was already attached to a tug on the port side and that the last tug was maneuvering into position to take docking clamp six. Together, the four tugs would pull Mexico back to dock 27L above Omar IV. Satisfied that docking clamp five was securely attached to the tug, Captain Allen reentered the bridge, crossed over and entered the Port Bridge Bubble to watch the last tug move into position.
Two decks below, in the Forward Battle Dressing Station, Hospital Corpsman Second Class Peter Sheffield finished stitching a deep cut in his last patient’s forehead. Peter removed his gloves and looked around the Battle Dressing Station. Three bodies, two men and a woman, were waiting for stretcher bearers to transport them to the refrigeration locker on the first deck, the lowest deck on the ship. Puddles of blood lay on the deck, as well as some of the equipment. Peter pulled on another pair of gloves and filled a bucket with disinfectant. It would take him an hour to make the Forward Battle Dressing Station spotless.
On the second deck, nearly all the way to the forward end of the ship, Bruce Tivis led Repair Team Three into the forward thruster control room. The forward thrusters provide Mexico with steering and elevation control. Bruce was aware that the thrusters were not functioning before he entered the compartment. Like most spaces this far forward, the forward thruster control room’s air had been vented to space. Fortunately, since the compartment was normally manned only during Battle Stations, no one had been in the compartment when the collision occurred.
The heaviest damage to Mexico had occurred on the third and fourth decks, so the damage to the forward thruster control room was relatively minor. A three-foot gash caused by separating armor plates looked like the only breach to the hull in the compartment. A four-foot by eight-inch patch was muscled into position. Bruce and another member of the repair party. Valves were opened by a third member allowing air to fill the space. The pressure of the air combined with the vacuum of space outside of the hull held the patch in place while a Hull Technician welded the temporary patch in place.
Unfortunately, the damage to the thrusters wasn’t going to be dealt with by a simple patch. Bruce knew virtually nothing about thruster mechanics, but even he could see that the thrusters were too badly damaged to repair outside of a dock. The piping connected tot the thrust control unit had been ripped open, fluid dripping from them. The unit itself was deformed and partially ripped from the deck. Along with all the other damage that Bruce had seen, he wondered how long it would take to fix Mexico. As Bruce surveyed the damage, a large groan emitted from the hull causing the members of Damage Control Team Three to look around nervously.
“Tugs have us underway,” the First Lieutenant—the officer in charge of the Deck Department and third in command of Mexico reported to Captain Allen who was studying damage reports on a console in front of him. The Captain looked out of the bridge windows and saw the slow forward movement of Mexico.
“Very well,” the Captain replied formally. Again, he looked at the damage report. Hidden among the reports of damage to the various systems onboard Mexico were the casualty figures. Eighteen dead, thirty-three missing, presumably pulled out of the ship into space after the collision. Fifty-one letters to write; fifty-one families whose lives would be shattered.
The Captain looked up and out of the bridge window again, watching the debris floating by as the ship was towed slowly toward Omar IV. The hull groaned and creaked from the stress of the towing on the damaged sections of the hull. It had to be a Batronian Stealth Ship, but why? Captain Allen asked himself. Why was it out there? Of course, there was no answer forthcoming. The only thing Captain Allen felt sure of was that this would not be the last time he would be dealing with the Batronians.
* * * * *
Batronian Carrier 211
Nearing Target System
May 22, 2487, 1321 UT
Commandant Shonze, Command of Strike Force 7-2—commonly known as the Strikers—looked out at the stars as the Batronian Task Force closed in on the target from the observation deck of the carrier. He would lead the attack craft making up Strike Force 7-2. He was a combat veteran, heavily decorated and had led many strikes during the war with Antron. Now, Earth would also be attacked for their continuing support of Antron. A weak enemy, not truly worthy of him while the battles with Antron continued. Still, he would do his duty. Just three more days.
