Underway
© 2021 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  rabbi-tom


It was the Kith’s turn to come alongside the repair ship, the cruiser dwarfed by the much larger Support vessel. The ship’s personnel access and power umbilicals had been extended and coupled to the damaged cruiser to allow technicians and material into the ship without having to use airlocks. The repair detail would remove the piece of the destroyed Terran destroyer Shandian from the Kith’s hull, seal the breach, and patch the damaged ship’s hyperfield. The thirty-two dead would be transferred to the larger vessel for eventual return to their families.

“Transmission from the repair supervisor, Ma’am,” the Communications Officer.

Varan shifted in her seat. She wasn’t in armor, and her uniform still bore a subcaptain’s insignia. “Main display, please.”

The 3-D image showed a slightly heavyset vir with a curious expression on her face. “My apologies, Subcaptain, but I wanted to verify a request that you had made.”

“Aka?”

“We noted a piece of Terran hull material incorporated into your ship’s outer hull.”

Varan smiled. “Yes. We had encountered and destroyed a Terran cruiser, and we didn’t have access to a repair ship. The captain authorized using the hull material.”

“I see. And you wanted a comparably-sized piece of this added to your ship?”

She gestured affirmatively as the command crew grinned at each other. “Yes, as long as the alloys meet your standards.”

The supervisor glanced at something outside of the display before she said, “They are compatible. I’ll see to having it done, and after we test the hyperfield you’ll be allowed to leave.”

“Thank you.” The display returned to showing the disposition of ships in the immediate volume. The Pilot chuckled, subsiding only when the Duty Officer glared at him.

Varan settled back with a grin. Several ships, not just the Kith, now sported bits of the hulls of Confed ships that they’d killed – when it was possible, of course; no captain would risk their ship or their rank in a hunt for trophies. It increased morale to a certain extent, and it was tolerated to an equally certain extent.

At least a piece of hull alloy hadn’t been alive. There were stories that some Trackers had been collecting pieces of Confed soldiers that had fallen to them.

It wasn’t something that was talked about without a shudder.

It took four cycles to pull the piece of the destroyer out of the cruiser, with frequent checks to make certain that its passage would not break through into any more sections and would not put undue stress on reinforced bulkheads and airtight doors. Once free, a section of hull alloy was excised and incorporated into the patch to Kith’s outer hull and replacement framing, and a replacement network of hyperspace emitters was laid down and connected.

“The repair supervisor reports that we are ready for field testing on your order, Ma’am,” Communications said.

“Very well, and please extend my thanks. Engineer?”

“Ready, Ma’am. Power flow is steady.”

“Good. Pilot, move us to a clear area,” Varan said. It was well into her normal sleep cycle, but she’d had something to eat and had caught a brief rest while the repairs were done.

The cruiser maneuvered away from the bigger ship and applied thrust toward a point in open space where the gravity gradient was stable. “Stand by,” the Engineer said on the shipwide intercom as the warship came to a halt. “Static test of hyperfield commencing. Sensors to maximum sensitivity, stand by.”

A slight tremor of harmonic vibration thrilled through the ship as the reactor came to full power and the Kith’s image in the tactical display’s focus flickered. The image steadied, and the display’s overall color shifted to reflect that it was in hyperspace. “System nominal, power steady,” the Engineer said, “drive computers are balancing the load.” This was a delicate operation; imbalances in the hyperfield could result in the destruction of the ship.

Several tense fractions went by, with the Pilot’s hand hovering over the controls that would collapse the field and bring the cruiser back into normal space. He sat back and huffed a breath as the Engineer reported, “Test complete. Hyperfield integrity is at design specifications, Ma’am.”

“No reports from damage control teams, Ma’am,” the Duty Officer added.

“Excellent. Thank you very much, Engineer,” Varan said. “Communications, let the repair ship know that we are headed for the docks at This Far for further repairs and refitting.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Pilot, course to This Far. Consult with the Engineer as to best speed through hyperspace.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Varan waited as the two conferred, and she felt a slight vibration under her booted feet. The display altered again, followed by figures showing the ship accelerating. “Inphased,” the Pilot reported. “Engineer reports we can manage seventy-eight percent of full power.”

Varan gestured comprehension. “Estimated time to This Far?”

“Eleven days, Subcaptain.”

Better than she’d hoped. “Very well, proceed,” she ordered. “Sensors and Weapons will maintain a close watch for any hostile ships. Communications, advise the flagship of our departure.” The three gestured affirmatively, and the vir stood. “Duty Officer, you have command,” and as the kam took her seat Varan headed for the door to the command center.

“Excuse me, Subcaptain?” the Duty Officer asked.

“Yes, Gorwan?”

The kam smiled. “With respect, you need some sleep.”

Varan chuckled. “The Surgeon-mistress has been telling me the same thing, Lieutenant. We have eleven days, so I’m sure I can find the time.” She left the command center.

She didn’t go to her quarters yet. After the ship had been damaged, she had decided to emulate Captain k’Jen’s habit of visiting the ship’s Infirmary where the most severely injured were still under the care of the Surgeon-mistress. The more lightly injured members of the crew had been returned to their quarters, or were housed with other members of the crew if their previous cabins were in the damaged sections.

“Narchak, vī,” the Surgeon-mistress said as Varan entered the sickbay. “We are inphased?”

“Yes, headed to a dockyard. How are your patients?” Varan asked.

“Doing well, thank you. I have several that are to be released to full duty today.” The physician sighed. “I’m looking forward to having this place empty. My cabin’s still a mess.”

“Yours too?” Varan asked. “Mine still looks like everything was thrown against the ceiling and at least two bulkheads.” The two viri laughed.

“Aka, we’ll have time to get things straightened up,” the Surgeon-mistress remarked. “I could use a good night’s sleep and a drink.”

“You didn’t have any in your quarters?” The Terran hull fragment had destroyed the compartment that held the Kith’s supply of alcoholic beverages. Members of the crew and some of the officers had private stocks in their quarters, but beverages such as henal would be in short supply until they reached This Far. “I have some wiskē and henal,” Varan said, “and you’re welcome to some.”

The surgeon smiled widely. “Thank you! Aka, you look exhausted. As Vīyēakh, I can order anyone up to and including the Captain – “

Varan chuckled. “Yes, Ma’am. I’ll be a good vat, and go to my quarters.” She turned to go, paused and said, “I’m still thinking over the selection of a Command-Second. Would you – “

“No,” the vir said flatly. “I have enough to aggravate me here.”