sudden the change was. From a soup of brown and white debris to open space. A trail of the stuff followed them for several kilometres.
His tactical panel and heads up display lit up with red markers. 'Oh my God, you seeing this Buster?' he asked as he checked the ship profiles.
'Can't miss it.'
'Can't wait to tell this story; 'so we come out of this cloud of space crap and what do we see? A whole deep space carrier group four hundred thousand klicks to port.' That's gonna be a hit in the bunks,' Hatter muttered.
'I hope you're making calculations for our wormhole over there Hatter,' Buster threatened.
'Oh, hell yeah!'
While the pair went on Hood took a closer look at the scan. 'That carrier is five klicks long, four wide and they've got about twenty destroyers and battlecruisers with them. We've got to warn Triton.'
'We have our orders, contact the Clever Dream. Deliver the encrypted message. Besides, there’s no way they’ll try to come out of the cloud at this end. They’ll have a good shot at avoiding this… armada.'
Hood hurriedly programmed a time released message beacon, copied a capture from his sensor suite to it and launched the small orb behind them into the cloud. 'That won't start transmitting until it's in range of the Triton.'
'If they didn't spot us before, they have now,' Buster scolded. 'How are those calcula-' An intense flash of light burst in front of them.
When Hood's eyes adjusted there was nothing but scorched wreckage where Buster's fighter had been. His tactical display told him her Uriel had been destroyed by a high powered antimatter particle beam.
'Holy shit! Buster! What happened?' Hatter asked.
'Send me your calculations Hatter.'
'But Buster! Can you get a read on her? Her cockpit section isn't here, it must have been blown into the cloud! We have to-'
'She's gone! Her cockpit was vaporized! Now send me your calculations so we can get the hell out of here!'
Hatter didn't reply.
'You can mourn her later, just finish that math before we-' The calculations for his wormhole compression and course appeared on his navigational display, sent over by encrypted laser link as they had been trained to do. There would be no way the carrier group could find out where they were going or how long it would take them to get there.
“Hood, they’re leaving. Look.”
He looked at his tactical display and couldn’t believe his eyes. “What the hell? Their transponders just flipped from Caran Enterprises to Regent Galactic. Something big is going down and I don’t plan to be a part of it.”
“So they kill-“ Hatter took a shuddering breath before going on, “her and just move on.”
“Biggest wormhole I’ve ever seen, and they’re all taking off. Let’s not stick around for any parting pot shots.” Hatter didn't bother verifying the wormhole calculations, he just dumped all the power his fighter had in reserve and stored in its shields into the wormhole generator. The power systems whined as the space in front of them distorted.
With a burst from their thrusters they entered the compressed space and left the wreckage of their squad leader's starfighter behind.
Chapter 8
The alert caught everyone in the command chain by surprise. There was a fire in the Botanical Gallery. As the most well protected section of the ship it was reserved for families and working civilians. It also played host to a beautiful growing and leisure garden that put some small planetary parks to shame with its earth seeded trees, grass, and upright food planters. The first significant crop was only weeks away and the next would come even faster.
Oz, Jason and Laura all made their way with haste to the centre of the ship. They knew Engineering Chief Liam Grady would get there first and that was a significant reassurance to Oz, who was at the same time outraged and nervous.
The Botanical Gallery hadn't sustained any significant damage; it was on a separate inertial dampening system that had its own backup power supply. First responder security officers who put out the fire reported it has been intentionally set.
'Where did the report say the fire came from?' asked Laura, the lead energy field specialist on the ship and Jason's wife.
'It was an empty second level apartment. Fifteen people were recorded entering after the seal on it was broken,' Oz replied. He'd known Laura for ages it seemed, since he met her in simulations before his service with her on the First Light.
'Was one of them our astrophysicist friend?' Jason asked. His composure was level and easy, he was rarely anything else.
'Yup, but Captain marked a few other people who were in and out of the apartment as trouble. The rest were civilians, none from the slave ships.'
They stopped in front of one of the security doors leading into the Botanical Gallery. Jason brought up his clearance code and ordered it open. The deck rumbled at the passage of the two meter thick, solid metal door being drawn back and to the side. The floor was polished silver from the friction the seldom repeated motion caused.
The smell left in the wake of the smoke wafted at the three. Oz couldn't place it, nor could Jason, but Laura's eyes went wide. 'Did security identify what they were burning?'
'They said it was from the garden, they're still gathering details.'
'It smells like wood.'
Oz led his companions through a small group of security guards and into the open apartment door. The main room had a sofa, two chairs, and a sideboard. A spiral stairway led upstairs to the bedrooms. He stepped inside and glanced down the small hallway leading to the kitchenette and half bathroom. There were more signs of smoke there.
One uniformed guard stepped in front of his squad of seven and retracted his face plate. He was dressed in full black boarding armour. Horizontal flexible slats of metal crossed the entire surface of the suit. They protected personal shield emitters, inertial dampeners and a thin layer of artificial muscle that worked with the wearer. Oz's suit was thinner by comparison, missing the extra armour layer and heavier gravity compensation systems the guards' squad had installed. The guard himself was an issyrian who had modified his appearance slightly so the fine, slick rows of tendrils across his cheeks and the over lip of his mouth were hidden by smooth skin. It gave him a streamlined appearance that would have almost been feminine if it weren't for his large red eyes. Agameg had never looked menacing, but he could imagine how this issyrian guard could. 'They started the fire in the kitchen sir. It looks like they used the stove to light several branches. There was no permanent damage, Commander.'
'Thank you. Did forensic scanning point to any specific suspects?'
'There is evidence of five people who were in direct contact with the branches and the stove. Only one of them is known as a trouble maker. I've updated my report.'
Oz looked past the guard to the soot stained ceiling leading to the kitchenette. If it weren't for years of experience in controlling temper, it would have gotten the best of him. The report listed Edward Stoppard and Leland March with the most exposure to the combustibles. He knew Edward, had watched him storm off the Flight Command Deck, feeling ignored and undervalued. He had no right to assume he'd get any more attention than any other specialist. Astrophysicist or not, he had to follow the chain of command and information. It might take two or three people to do his job, but it was worth replacing him to avoid this drama. His eye lingered on Leland March's grinning photo and he couldn't help but get a little heated. Now this one I've heard of. Lied about his qualifications, nearly got a whole crew killed, and it says he's lodged nine complaints at his new position on the ship; Crewman's
