Trust Me

by Alcuin Fromm

Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Part 1

The image of a careening starship filled the massive viewscreen. As the command crew of the ISS Storna looked on, the lights of the enemy ship twinkled briefly before going dark. Moments later, an expanding ball of brilliant, green fluorescence from a plasma core explosion ripped open the rear of the ship, propelling the remainder of the crippled vessel into the depths of space.

“Target neutralized,” said the tactical officer in a professional tone.

Captain Dallor Meetrich slapped the arm of his command chair with the palm of his hand and clenched his jaw to avoid smiling.

“Excellent work,” said Dallor. “Bring us about by mark oh-five-one in a wide arc and scan for new contacts.”

“Aye, sir,” said the helmsman.

Seated behind his blinking console in the rear of the bridge, the Storna’s communications officer, Lemm Meetrich, looked down from the viewscreen to observe his older brother. Lemm felt a pang of familial pride. Some men were simply born leaders, he thought, and his brother Dallor was definitely one of them. Fate had perfectly destined Dallor to command a starship of the Imperial Navy. For Lemm, however, Fate had other plans.

His hands already dancing across the panel, Lemm shifted his attention from his brother to his communications console. He rapidly composed and transmitted a squadron-wide notification of the Storna’s updated status.

The battle, having raged for over fourteen hours, had entered its final stages. An enormous fleet of ships, fighting for the Revolutionaries and cobbled together from over a dozen rebellious star systems, had outnumbered the Imperial squadron’s ships three-to-one. But the strategic discipline and precision of the Imperials compensated for their lack of numbers. Towards the end of the battle, only scattered and unorganized small craft and fighters of the decimated Revolutionary fleet remained mobile. The Storna could hunt at will.

“Target acquired, Captain,” said the tactical officer. “Two-three mark nine, ascending. It’s a Youllian frigate, sir.”

Dallor confirmed the data on the console of his command chair.

“Acknowledged,” he said. “Increase velocity by point-one-five, helmsman, and bring us up behind her.”

“Aye, sir.”

The Storna swept underneath the carcass of a Revolutionary cruiser before curving to starboard and straightening into a direct line for the frigate, already changing from a point of light to the vaguely recognizable form of a ship on the viewscreen. Lemm watched with avid interest until a red flash on the communications panel drew his attention.

“Incoming long-range transmission from the Communication Relay Point near planet Ireth, Captain,” said Lemm with a note of surprise.

“It can wait,” said Dallor, punching a button. “Tactical on screen.”

The slowly growing image of the frigate changed to a three-dimensional yellow grid, bordered on all sides by constantly adjusting telemetric data. A small, white icon representing the frigate sat motionless in the center.

Lemm cleared his throat.

“It’s a Priority-One message, Captain,” he said.

“It can wait,” said Dallor, more vehemently. “Realign shields to fore. Prepare weapons lock. No engagement until my word.”

“Aye, sir.”

Lemm stood up and walked over to Dallor. Standing behind him, Lemm leaned in close and whispered in the captain’s ear.

“Dal, it’s from Father.”

Dallor squeezed his hands into fists and cocked his head toward his brother.

“I won’t repeat myself again, Lemm. It can wait,” he said in a harsh whisper. “Now, get back to your post!”

Lemm trudged to his console and dropped onto his seat in annoyance. Dallor turned back to the viewscreen and breathed out slowly, clenching and unclenching his hands.

“Range to yellow zone?” said Dallor.

“T-minus forty-seven seconds, Captain,” said the tactical officer.

Dallor nodded with seeming calm, his expression belying the anticipation and impatience roiling in his chest as the Storna crept closer to her prey. Behind the captain, Lemm fidgeted in equal anticipation and impatience, but for a different reason. Confident that the Youllian frigate would easily be caught and destroyed, Lemm could only think about their Father’s message, barely able to contain his curiosity. As Minister of Intelligence in the Imperial capital, their father would never send a Priority-One message on an official, coded Imperial datastream without the direst necessity.

In a flash of anger, Lemm decided to listen to the message himself. If Dallor had been born to command, then Lemm had been born to hack. It only took him a moment to break through the security codes. An aggressive decryption program of his own design batted aside the few, feeble obstacles. He noted to himself that he must inform the Ministry of their inadequate coding. Lemm discreetly inserted his earpiece.

“Hello, Dal. I don’t have time for formalities, so I’ll come straight to the point.”

“New signal, Captain! Enemy cruiser bearing seven-three-three, descending! She’s fired a missile!”

“Evasive maneuver, helmsman,” said Dallor. “Bear to port, z-minus point-seven-five. Full speed.” He spoke with a composed voice but twisted in his chair. “Launch counter-measures.”

“Our reconnaissance missions on Ireth have uncovered—”

“Counter-measures launched, Captain,” said the gunner in a panic.

No one spoke.

“A shocking piece of information.”

“Counter-measures ineffective. Missile has reacquired and is approaching fast!”

Dallor swore as the ship swung hard, pressing everyone into his seat.

“There is a man aboard an Imperial ship in your sector, the ISS Huntress...”

“Missile gaining. T-minus eighteen seconds to impact.”

“Can we get a laser lock?” yelled Dallor.

“He’s known in certain circles by the codename ‘The Welder.’”

“Negative, Captain,” cried the gunner. “That angle’s impossible, sir. We would need to turn to starboard and into the path—”

“He is dangerous and under no circumstances can he be trusted.”

“Impact in T-minus four—”

“We have learned—”

“Brace for impact!”

“That he is a—”

The missile exploded as it struck the aft, starboard side of the Storna tearing a gaping hole into her hull. Automatic doors slammed shut, isolating the breach. Everyone on the bridge was thrown from his seat. The helmsman crashed against the viewscreen as it turned black from the ship’s power failure. Interior illumination flickered and vanished entirely for a few seconds before the blue tint of the emergency lights bathed everything in an otherworldly glow. Klaxons blared and warning lights flashed from all directions.

Lemm, finding himself dazed but uninjured on the floor, scrambled back to his console to discover it was completely inoperative. “Communications down,” he said, ripping out his earpiece in fury and throwing it to the floor.

Dallor was already back in his command chair, stabbing at the console on its armrest. “Emergency power coming online,” he said.

A few of the bridge consoles and displays powered up. The viewscreen flickered back to life, revealing two bright lights swinging through space. Lemm’s communications console, however, remained darkened, and he pounded it with his fist.

“Tactical, where’s the frigate? Where’s the cruiser? Are they coming around?” said Dallor frantically.

The tactical officer remained silent as he scrolled through the data, blood dripping from a gash in his head. Finally he spoke. “Affirmative, Captain. Both approaching from starboard. No new projectiles, but they are acquiring laser-lock.”

“Our weapons?”

“Targeting down, missiles depleted, but I can fire lasers, Captain,” said the gunner with a trembling voice.

“Best guess, gunner. Fire!”

The gunner unleashed a blind, fanning spread of laser blasts, which failed to hit either of the oncoming ships. He readjusted and fired again with the same results.

“Enemy ships firing.”

There was a moment of excruciating silence before the Storna trembled and lurched to port as blast after blast struck her. Lemm watched in horror as the two bright lights on the viewscreen emitted a flurry of red laser bolts. A wall panel to his right cracked open with a shower of sparks, spilling cables and circuitry to the floor like entrails out of a slaughtered animal. The Storna shuddered around him. Despite years of combat duty, Lemm had never felt convinced of his imminent death until that moment.

Memories flooded his imagination and images filled his mind as the world seemed to slow to almost total inertia. He saw himself with his brother Dallor as children playing Imperial Rangers in the yard. He saw his sister at their family’s summer cottage on the shore of Lake Morsh, up to her knees in muddy water and holding a squirming crab with a look of gleeful disgust.

He saw his father kneeling at the end of the fiberglass pier, holding out his arms, then plucking his son out of the water with a triumphant embrace because Lemm had swum all the way back from the raft by himself. His eyes filled with tears and his heart ached. It’s all over, he thought.

“New contact, Captain, bearing four-oh-four mark three! It’s one of ours, sir!”

“Magnify,” said Dallor with a glimmer of hope.

The laser blasts from both the cruiser and the frigate stopped abruptly and the two ships peeled away from each other in opposite directions. Between them approached an Imperial destroyer.

Countless ribbons of orange jet blasts curled and twisted out of both sides of the destroyer as she unleashed her missiles. The Revolutionary ships attempted to intercept the incoming missiles with precision laser counter-strikes, but the quantity from the Imperial attacker proved overwhelming. Both Revolutionary ships were quickly destroyed.

Lemm slumped back into his seat, his body trembling. He lowered his head and closed his eyes. Around him he heard cheers and shouts of joy. Lemm felt no joy, only thankfulness and relief, which he quickly offered the Creator from the depths of his heart. He opened his eyes and looked at the viewscreen. He saw the stars, bright and beautiful. And he was alive.

“Open a channel,” said Dallor quietly.

Lemm blinked and shook his head, parting from his reverie.

“Communications still down, sir,” he said. “But we’ve been automatically transmitting out a low-frequency emergency beacon ever since we switched to emergency power. They’ll find us.”

“But who? Who is that?” said Dallor.

“Just a moment, sir,” said the tactical officer. He tapped his console. “I have their registration codes, sir. It’s an Imperial destroyer. The ISS Huntress.”

Lemm’s heart sank.

Twenty-seven men died in the attack on the Storna and the ship herself was damaged beyond repair. A shuttle arrived to transport survivors and the bodies of the dead to the Huntress. Lemm insisted on remaining until the last shuttle trip in an attempt to recover his father’s message.

He tried to access the communications system from three different computer stations throughout the ship, but the damage proved to be widespread and total. The entire communications system had been destroyed and the message simply lost.

Before departing, Lemm made a quick visit to his cabin to recover a few personal items and a palm-sized datapad containing Nickel, an AI that he had designed and programmed himself. He then hurried to catch the last shuttle. Before stepping onto the craft, Lemm turned back to give the Storna a final, wistful glance before leaving her forever.

The Huntress was twice as large as the Storna but not as recently constructed. Lemm immediately recognized hardware layouts at least two generations older than the Storna’s. His desire to comb over her specs almost outweighed the dread that hung over him, but he could not stop thinking about the message. He needed desperately to speak with Dallor.

A petty officer showed Lemm to a tiny cabin, usually assigned to a cadet, and apologized for the austere lodgings. The officer told Lemm that the captain would receive the crew of the Storna before the evening meal. Lemm thanked the officer and politely assured him of his satisfaction with the room. In reality, Lemm could not have been more pleased when he entered the miniscule chamber.

Not concerned about the aesthetics of the room, the ship designers had placed an ugly, conspicuous access panel in the cabin’s rear wall. As soon as the petty officer had left, Lemm stepped onto the wall-mounted bunk and examined the panel. By lifting and sliding the plate of metal, he was able to remove it, exposing the interior of the bulkhead and a narrow ledge along which ran pipes, conduits, and circuits.

The tunnel was just large enough for a man to fit inside and access the network of the vessel’s inner structure. Lemm smiled to himself as he replaced the panel. Inside, he would be able to link directly into a whole range of computer functions without having to use exterior public interface terminals. His hacker heart swooned.

After washing up and changing his clothes, Lemm lay down to consider his situation, but the exhaustion and stress of the battle suddenly caught up with him; he quickly fell asleep.

* * *

Proceed to Part 2...

Copyright © 2023 by Alcuin Fromm