From: Brant Forseng Date: Mon Apr 02, 2001 11:04:32 US/Pacific To: hudsonleick@yahoogroups.com Subject: [hudsonleick] Chapter 1 of a Space Story Reply-To: hudsonleick@yahoogroups.com I am delurking after a VERY long time. Some of you may remember me. Some may not. Here is chapter 1 of a space story involving (ultimately) Callisto and and New Cirran navy. if people like it, I'll write more. But first, let's set the scene: Brant CHAPTER 1 "Stand by for translation in ten seconds." Sarah Parker glanced at her Nav Officer, Niles Forthman, as his hands flicked over his instrument panels. She was about to remind him to check the inertial compensators one last time, but bit off the suggestion before it left her lips. You're a captain now, not a first officer. She smiled at how the thought still caused her pleasure. A captain! Finally, after 14 years of service in the New Vega Navy, she had her own command. True, she'd had to muster out of the navy to gain the position, but given the sad state of the armed forces lately that wasn't much of a sacrifice. "Five seconds É" "Check the compensators, Niles." That was Henry, her first officer, mother-henning the Nav Officer the same way she would have done. As captain of the Athen Corporation's newest merchant ship Gabrielle's Hope, she now left the mother hen routine to her officers. She flicked a glance at the rest of her bridge crew. There were eleven of them, as the Gabby was big carrier, massing over a million metric tons. Her crewed numbered 98 officers and ratings. No, not ratings, she reminded herself, sailors. This was not the navy. "Three seconds É" "Hey Bernice, try not to puke over the com equipment this time ok," came an amused comment from her Load Master. Definitely not the navy. "Two ÉoneÉ translate!" The Gabrielle's Hope shimmered briefly against the back drop of stars and then vanished. There was a brief feeling of wrongness and then the Gabby snapped back into real space 53 light years from her original position. Sarah swallowed once and then began snapping out commands. "Niles, check our position, Seth, anything unexpected out there? Bernice, get me a fix from the comm beacon. Talia, bring the weapons on line." Her bridge crew might have been more informal than the navy, but they knew their business. Athen made a point of hiring only the best, unlike some of the other cartels. The last command, to Talia, was almost always a formality. Pirate activity had been on the upswing in the local space, but most of the local cut throats knew to steer clear of the Gabby. She was an armed merchantman. Very well armed in point of fact. Her weaponry was more than capable of reducing to slag most destroyers and even, if she got lucky, a light cruiser. Athen also believed in protecting its cargoes. "Cargo status is nominal." "System's check shows everything in the green Skipper." "Nav position checks out. We are where we're supposed to be," grunted Niles. He always had more trouble with jumps than the rest of the bridge crew, except for Bernice. "Computers and critical subsystems coming back on line. No worries." Sarah nodded at each of the bridge crew as they reported their areas of responsibilities. "Uh ma'am?" Sarah blinked. It was Bernice. Had she É? "Report Bernice." "The comm beacon. Its not there." "What do you mean its not there?" asked her first officer. "I mean its not there, there's nothing being broadcast. Nothing." "Talia?" "Contact!" came her weapon's officer's voice. "Two bogies, ma'am. Each about ten light seconds out. On either side. We're being flanked," she added unnecessarily. "Size? Bearing?" snapped her first officer. "They're pacing us. Computer assessment classes them as a pair of Hun class cruisers." Sarah relaxed fractionally. Pirates didn't have Huns. So it had to be one of the local navies. "Hail them." She quickly reviewed what she new of local space. They were on the fringe of territory claimed by New Silesia. Claim was about all that New Silesia could do, several of its provinces had broken away and declared independence in the last hundred years. Silesia had fumed and threatened, but its peculiar political system prevented it from doing much else. The new nations had all respected the commerce lanes, which wasn't surprising as they used them themselves. Maybe, Sara mused to herself, the cruisers were here to offer protection from pirate activity. "Ma'am? We're being hailed." Sarah looked at her communications officer. Bernice sounded worried. Alarmed even. "What." Bernice licked her lips. "We're being ordered to stand down our weapons and prepare to be boarded." "What?!?" "By who?" "The New Cirran Navy." There was a moment of silence as the bridge crew looked at each other. "Who the hell is the New Cirran Navy?" asked Niles. "We're being painted!" sang out Talia. "Multiple targeting beams. Radar and Lidar. Threat computer reports multiple missile bays opening on both bogies." "Orders Ma'am?" asked her first officer. Sarah licked her lips. Two Hun cruisers could easily kill her command. Oh, they'd be hurt themselves, but the issue would never be in doubt. A small part of her wondered why this was happening. Their cargo wasn't that valuable, if the New Cirran Navy were actually pirates. And that was looking increasingly likely. "We let them board." Athen policy was clear in cases like these. When the cargo was routine, crews were more valuable and could be ransomed from pirates. "Ma'am, they're demanding an answer." Most pirates anyway. "Hail them and tell them we surrender." "Talia?" "Yes Ma'am?" "Update the distress drones with all of the data we have on our friends. All of the drones. And stand down the weapons." There were nervous glances all around. The drone order was a very bad sign. "Yes Ma'am." All they could do was wait. It would take at least twenty seconds for their surrender to be acknowledged. Seventeen seconds later they received that acknowledgement. "Multiple launches!" screamed Tailia. "Threat computer is tracking 42 inbound missiles, probable mix of laser heads and nukes!" Sarah felt her heart freeze. She ordered maximum acceleration and evasion patterns, but knew it was a futile gesture. "Launch the drones!" ***************************** Seven minutes later the Gabby was a drifting cloud of plasma and debris. The two 'Huns' dropped their ECM ghost suites, revealing a pair of Attila light cruisers adorned in the colors of the Hydra Theocracy. Aboard the Patriarch's Sword, the ship's priestess looked at the captain. "Survivors?" she snapped. "None, eminence." "The drones that were launched?" "All of them appear to be undamaged and fleeing." "Excellent." Her smile was cold as space itself. END OF CHAPTER ============================================================================== From: Brant Forseng Date: Tue Apr 03, 2001 04:21:54 US/Pacific To: hudsonleick@yahoogroups.com Subject: [hudsonleick] Chapter 2 of a Space Story Reply-To: hudsonleick@yahoogroups.com Enjoy. Brant *********************** "Ouch!" Cally looked up at the manifold housing with venom. This was the third time she'd banged her head on the damned thing. It was almost as if the design board went out of its way to place the housings in the most awkward position possible. She rocked back on her haunches rubbing her head. She stopped. A sinking feeling crept over her and she slowly looked at her hand. It was covered in grease. As was, undoubtedly, her blonde hair. "Join the navy, see the stars, defend the republic." Cally mimicked the recruiter's words from ten years ago savagely. About the only things she'd seen were electrical runs, waste management units, and now, most recently, manifold housings. Truly an impressive naval career so far. I should never have listened to grandmother, she said to herself. Who gave a damn if the family's first daughter had always gone into the armed forces? She certainly didn't. But her grandmother had wielded enormous influence over her while Cally had been in her teens. When grandma had suggested she enlist in the navy she'd immediately done so. The last ten years had seen her regret the decision countless times. The only thing that prevented her from quitting was the strong streak of stubbornness she'd inherited from her mother. "Hey Callisto, love what you've done with your hair." Cally winced. The only people who used her full name were her grandmother, various exasperated naval instructors, and Trevor. Lieutenant first class Trevor McCloy to be precise. "Shut up Trev," she answered sourly as he strolled up beside her. "That's shut up Lieutenant McCloy," he replied in a teasing voice. Cally sighed. Trevor never missed an opportunity to remind her that although he was three years younger, he out-ranked her by two full grades. Not that he was nasty about it, most of the time. "What do you want Lieutenant?" she asked with a sigh. "Just though I would amble by and see how you are doing on the maintenance assignment." "Just ducky." "Yeah, I can see you've attacked the problem with your usual unique methods. Tell me, do you expect to finished two, or only one hour behind schedule?" She bit back an acid reply. Their sort-of friendship had limits. What irked her most was the matter-of-fact way he just assumed that she was going to always take longer to do a job than anyone else would. There was no malice in his voice. He might have been commenting on weather. Not that there was much of that on a cruiser floating thirty miles up from New Cirra in the naval yard. "I'll be finished soon," she replied quietly. "Good, because don't forget we are expected to host the Admiral at dinner in two hours. And as senior middie, you will be expected to give the traditional toast." The dinner! Oh dear God! She'd forgotten! "Don't worry," she replied hurriedly. "I'll be there with bells on." Trevor winced at her choice of words. There'd been an incident last year where Callisto had managed to trip over and destroy the tubular bells of a visiting ship's band. "Ah, no bells are needed Cally. Just try not to spill any wine on the Admiral." ***************************** Ninety minutes later Cally was frantically attempting to scrub the grease out of her hair before her shower allotment ran out. Usually warships limited their crews to sonic showers. But while in the yards a minor extravagance was allowed. Each crew member was allowed one two-minute shower once a week. Sonic showers were usually very efficient, but Cally knew from unhappy previous experience that they were next to useless for getting grease out of hair. She therefore saved her shower for just before major events. Like dinners, or shore leave. She could have cut her hair short, the way most women did shipboard, but she didn't. Cally liked her hair long, and the regs permitted it as long as it was worn up in a bun. Learning how to do that had been a long and arduous process. Like most things she had learned how to do in the navy. Everything seemed to come easily to everyone except her. She sighed and reached for her tube of shampoo, only to discover it empty. Shit. One damn thing after another. The shower cut off. Swearing softly she stepped out of the shower booth and rubbed herself down with the towel. Standing in front of a mirror in the tiny common shower room she examined herself critically in the mirror. Cally had a heart-shaped face framed by wavy blonde hair that fell past her shoulders. Thankfully, it appeared she was successful in removing all of the grease. Her brown eyes carefully examined every strand carefully. Nothing. Not a drop. For the first time in several hours she smiled. I look too much like mother, she thought. The smile vanished. Her mother had died when Cally was seven, captaining a destroyer against a pirate raid on an outpost. It hadn't been a fair fight, with a single destroyer and a corvette ranged against a light cruiser and three destroyers. But then, pirates were not noted for their sense of fair play. The raiders had been hurt badly though. Before her mother's command had been destroyed, it had crippled the cruiser and slagged one of the attacker destroyers. Unfortunately, pirates did believe in revenge. The remaining raiders had nuked the outpost, killing nine thousand inhabitants, including Cally's father. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Her mother was one of the New Cirran Navy's heros, almost a legend. She'd made captain when she was thirty years old. What would she think of her daughter, twenty-eight, who wasn't even an officer yet? Sighing, Cally quickly wriggled into her jumpsuit and raced off to her quarters, conscious of time. She had only a scant twenty five minutes to get dressed and get to the officer's mess. It wouldn't do to be late. **************************** With five minutes to spare she was walking down the port corridor, attempting to adjust her hair so that it stayed put under her uniform cap. Two strands on either side of her head obstinately refused to stay in place. Desperately she stuffed them up under the brim of her cap. Arriving at the entrance to the mess, she took a deep breath, smoothed her jacket and entered the compartment. END OF CHAPTER ============================================================================== Web site copyright (c) 2001 Kevin C. Wong, All Rights Reserved. "Xena: Warrior Princess" and some material copyright MCA/Universal. Materials copyright their respective authors. Send questions and comments to me, Kevin C. Wong (jahn@csua.berkeley.edu) This page last updated: June 10, 2001.