“Lee, override! Take manual control of the PDCs. Thirty degree cone of fire, relative to hostile missile’s projected vector, cover our stern—fire!”
The small point defense cannons installed on the ship provided three hundred and sixty degrees of coverage from missiles or other similar types of ordnance. The overhead and bulkheads rumbled. The point defense screen intercepted the remaining missile.
During the mayhem, Trident’s missiles made certain the overconfident attackers wouldn’t be dropping any more surprises. Smoldering wrecks drifted through the void, a scattering of debris left in their wakes.
“Targets destroyed, Commander,” Lee reported. Likely, more for satisfaction than necessity.
Aaron nodded, released his harness and rose from the command chair. He was forgetting something. The drum in his chest returned to a normal pace. The freighter!
“XO, status on the freighter?”
“I wish I knew exactly,” the XO said. “Sensors show it still on the far side of the system. It’s near the gas giant. Nothing suggests any kind of damage. Maybe we interrupted the attack. It seems our late attackers knew we were coming. They were waiting for us.”
“Hail them.”
“I’ve tried, sir, there’s no response.” Alvarez sent the hail again. He looked up and shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Engineering, Sanderson, what’s your initial assessment on our damage?”
“Our rear armor is completely compromised, I mean broken beyond repair, Commander. There’s only so much nanites can do. Several hull breaches in the rear sections. Emergency repairs are in place, atmosphere is contained. It’s largely structural damage, Commander, we’ve got full power available at your command.”
Two attackers destroyed and only minor structural damage. What would the admirals say about that? “I’ll leave you to it, Sanderson, bridge out. XO, scan the transponder. Who is it registered to?”
The operations officer worked his station. “Designation, Serenity Light, registration D-1071. Crew, two hundred and fifty. Registered under family name—Reid. Rigel Star System Shipping.”
Aaron’s eyebrows shot up. “A Rigel freighter? On the frontier? I know Rigel has one of the largest hauling capacities throughout the United Star Systems, but mainly in the core worlds not so?”
Someone coughed. It was Lee. “Excuse me, sirs, as you know I’m from Rigel. It’s true they’re a heavy lifter. But they specialize in starship components and raw materials. That’s the bulk of our lift and contracts, not ore. Rigel Shipping mainly hauls on contract for the USSF if I recall correctly.”
Rigel was one of the first major Earth colonies in the twenty-second century.
“Then, either this is one wayward and lost freighter,” Aaron said, “or suddenly Rigel Shipping has decided to expand.”
“XO, general broadcast.” Aaron paused. “To Captain—Serenity Light, this is Rayne A. Commanding United Fleet Ship Trident, we responded to your distress call. What is the status of your ship?”
Everyone waited. The bridge fell silent. Finally, a single beep alerted them to a response.
“Commander Rayne, thank you for coming to our aid. Our ship sustained damage in the attack and we’ve only just repaired the comms. Our engines are still a bit ah—wonky. Stand by. Will update you on progress of our repairs and contact you as soon as possible. Serenity Light out.”
It was an audio message only. What was the freighter captain hiding? With relays setup throughout the small system, light-lag wouldn’t be a problem for visual communication.
Fleet Research had adapted a method to detect objects and communicate by using gravity waves as conduits for data telemetry, and gravity waves travelled faster than light. The drawback was they didn’t travel at great multiples beyond light speed and so while ideal for intra-system use, communications between star systems were still not instantaneous. The calm reply was in stark contrast to the desperate distress call. He’d almost overloaded his engines responding to the distress call, only to be told stand by . . . well isn’t that cheeky.
The drum in his chest increased its rhythm. “XO, full scan again. Probe as deep as you can. Run the full suite of sensors. Is there any sign of battle damage or any damage at all?”
Several minutes passed while the XO, with assistance from the computer analyzed the readings gathered by the extensive suite of sensors at Trident’s disposal.
“There’s nothing to suggest even a hint of damage, Commander,” Alvarez said. “I’m so sure of it that if I were wrong, I’d resign my commission and try my hand at something far easier, like shooting railguns.”
Aaron had to gulp down a laugh. A clear jab at Lee. Avery Alvarez was a somewhat rigid man at times, but he did have a sense of humor. And both Vee and Lee clearly enjoyed the barbs they traded from time to time. The crew had grown close on the year-long border patrol.
Before Lee could respond, Aaron spoke again. “Then this is ridiculous, he must know we can tell he’s lying. Yet . . . still he is lying. Why would he do that? What does he have to gain?”
Miroslav answered the open question. “I don’t know, Commander, but he sure is wasting our time. Let’s get over there and see what he’s up to.”
Aaron grinned. The young helmsman wasn’t battle-tested, but he was certainly a far cry from the timid officer who’d joined the crew six months ago. “Indeed, Ensign, in time. Let’s not be reckless in our approach, right, XO? Something isn’t right with this freighter.”
Vee laughed a little. “All or nothing, remember?”
Aaron shrugged. “It has a time and place.” But something Miroslav said stood out—time. What about time? The freighter couldn’t outrun Trident, so if her captain thought it could escape by wasting time, he was beyond delusional. And Aaron wouldn’t let it depart, without boarding it. The freighter captain would know that too.
Time. The word stuck in his head.
Damn.
He jumped from the command seat and stood behind Miroslav. “Forget the freighter! Engineering, are we good for max speed?”
“Aye, Commander,” Sanderson responded. “Structural integrity wasn’t compromised that badly!”
“Miroslav,” Aaron said. “Maximum burn for the heliopause. Engage immediately. People, we’re leaving. The mystery of that freighter will wait another day.”
Alvarez stared open mouthed. “What’s got into you? Shouldn’t we board them and investigate the deception?”
“No, XO. Miroslav nailed it. The freighter captain is wasting our time. He can’t get away by doing so, and he must know we know he’s lying. Something else is happening. Whatever that is, he is a hundred percent confident we’ll never find out—or survive to report his unusual activity.”
“We’re burning full speed for the heliopause, Commander,” Miroslav reported. “Time to interstellar medium (ISM), one hour.” The heliopause was a once theoretical term for a star system’s boundary. Early Earth scientists believed the interstellar medium stopped the solar winds from the sun at that particular point. A theory proven a reality by early solar system explorers, and verified during exploration of nearby star systems. This means star systems had different “sizes” based on the size of its star and the corresponding gravitational forces.