“There's no way to prevent this?”
“Nope. You asked me to give you a wormhole and you got one. Probably the last one.”
“So about two weeks before we can generate a wormhole large enough for the ship?”
“No. Three if you manage to buy an entirely new assembly and if not it'll be at least four weeks to rebuild the power systems and another six to rebuild the control room and emitter array. After that we'll have to calibrate it and that'll take at least two more weeks outside of drydock, a day if you can manage to find us a berth. Knowing how unlikely that is, I don't think you'll ever see this ship generate a wormhole again.”
“Easy, Finn.” Chief Grady interjected quietly.
“No, it's all right. He saved our butts, followed orders and I ignored his warnings; he gets a free shot,” Alice said with a nod. “Clean up as much as you need to in order to make that section of the ship safe. Oh, and Finn? Take a few minutes to cool down then get to the bridge. I need an Engineering officer here in person from here on out and you're it.”
“Emerging into unaltered space, Captain,” Ashley reported from the helm.
“Tactical, begin scanning, and get those astronomer's eyes looking too, I don't want to miss a thing.”
The Triton emerged from the wormhole within a few hundred kilometres of their reconnaissance craft.
Alice watched the engineering status hologram and a representation of the inside of the main emitter control room. She couldn't help but wince as it was filled with sparks and the feed was cut off entirely by an explosion that shook the entire ship. “There it goes, a fire suppression team is already in place to take care of it,” Finn reported from the hallway outside the control room. “I'll be on the bridge in a few minutes. I only wish there could have been another way.”
“It was worth it,” Alice nodded.
“Sure was, good job hotwiring the system, I've never seen it done,” Laura added.
Alice brought up the communication screen up on the secondary holographic display so she could listen in on the exchange with the fighters.
“Triton SSG Control to Scrubber and Hardcore. You're ordered to return to hanger using our Tractor Net.” Commanded Assistant Chief Paula, who had taken over for her subordinate.
“Understood Triton. We'll be coming up underside and holding until the net draws us in. Looks like you've seen some action, anything we need to know about?” replied Hardcore.
“No. Make it quick,” Paula stated flatly.
“Are you sure? I could pick up some takeout on my way.”
“I'm sure, smart asses,” Paula muttered as she cut the comm session.
“What did our astrologers find?” Alice asked Agameg.
“Just after the Eden ships arrived they spotted a wormhole exit point and this;” Agameg replied without missing a beat, bringing up a hologram of a small vessel. The sensor information underneath it indicated that it was emitting almost no energy, but there was definitely a cockpit and windows for living quarters on the forty three meter long vessel.
“It's a Regent Galactic survey and observation ship,” Larry reported from the helm. “I had to ferry one between systems once. They're cramped, made to check on troubled areas and get out.”
“I guess they just wanted to see how we fared against about a thousand fighter drones. I hope they enjoyed the show.” Alice thought for a moment and watched the main holographic display on the bridge, where everyone could see the Uriel fighter being drawn up into the receiving bay at the rear aft of the ship. “All right, get us underway to these coordinates at our best speed. We don't have time to cover the emitters with stealth material, so they'll see us coming. I need everyone on the briefing list I'm posting to report to the mission theatre in seven hours. Stand down from high alert. Agameg, the bridge is yours,” Alice said as she stood and strode out of the bridge's main entrance, across the command corridor and into another set of double doors.
The main briefing theatre hadn't been in use for over thirty years, and as she walked into the large circular space she couldn't help but pause. You picked a lousy time to go on a milk run Jake, I hope you manage to sort yourself out.
Arrival
The Uriel fighter was much more comfortable than Jake had anticipated. Before he woke to the wormhole emergence alarm he dreamt he was in a soft, warm mound of mattresses and cushions, a dream he wouldn't share with some of the more hardened crew members back on the Triton.
As planned, he was awake several minutes before emerging from the highly compressed wormhole, the fighter performed beautifully as a personal transport, despite the fact that he didn't have the long term cabin component installed. He was able to stretch a little, but he was still sitting in essentially the same position.
Even though he was easily in control of all aspects of the ship while simply travelling, he knew he'd wish he had brought a copilot if he ran into trouble. Controlling shield, weapons, navigation, communications and the myriad other systems would be overwhelming, despite his practice sessions in the simulations.
No one knew who Hitman was until he actually had it stencilled onto the Uriel fighter he took, but he was starting to make a name for himself in simulations, which he enjoyed far too much for the little time he could afford to spend in them. Taking the role of a fighter pilot was popular in the simulations the Triton played host to on a day to day basis. It had even become a social event, as the large holographic displays had been brought into the Pilot's Den, the bar located right in the center of the berths reserved for deck crew and pilots.
He had no idea how closely people watched for him to enter the sims until Alice had told him about it later, but in one combat simulation set in a large asteroid field there were several pilots in the Pilot's Den with their visors on trying desperately to hunt him down and destroy him before they themselves were killed by the dreaded Hitman. The whole idea that there were spectators and wagers going on with regard to his opponent's survivability gave him a big smile whenever it crossed his mind.
It wasn't hard to guess who Hitman was, really. He had been chasing down bounties for the better part of five years. Very few of the jobs he'd taken escalated to the point where he had to use lethal force, but those were the most well known ones in the end. The sims were a good contrast to the seriousness he had to place on his work. Even though all the simulations made available on the Triton somehow involved training or practice he had turned to them as a distraction after completing his Uriel fighter pilot qualification. If he was shot down one of his pilots, or wannabe pilots would have the bragging rights, but it never happened without him taking out several of his opponents first, if at all. He still wasn't the greatest shot, but his reflexes, quick thinking and ability to create opportunities and cover made him very difficult prey. When he signed on in a boarding crew or other squad based sim, his team was full in seconds, the same could be said when he signed in as a wing commander. Just as it was with Jonas Valent, he was becoming very popular in simulations and it helped him connect with his crew while it also gave him a much needed release. Memories of Minh came back often, he had even taken a few opportunities to quote some old Earth proverbs.
The tactical readings overlaid the heads up display built into his visor and he immediately set weapons to charge, increased power to shields, and fired the engines at full thrust while directing the fighter downward.
“Oh hell, there must be three battle groups in orbit!” He glanced at the communications systems and realized that there was only one clear broadcast. It was a Carthan all clear signal, everything else was nothing but static. Even the transponder signals were garbled.