The viewscreen was totally blank, and I wasn’t sure whether it was simply offline or if everything outside the ship was shrouded in an all-encompassing blackness.
“Status,” I ordered.
“Status,” First Officer Zadair repeated.
“Engineering board is green,” the chief engineer announced. “All systems are nominal. The portal generator is drawing a lot of power, but we’ve still got 70% in capacity.”
“Comm,” Zadair prompted.
The communications officer raised a finger to his right ear and listened to something. He slowly raised the index finger of his left hand in the universal sign for “hold on just a second.” I couldn’t see his expression, but based on his body language, we were in for a doozy.
The bridge went silent. Several of the crew craned their necks or turned around to stare at the communications officer who wasn’t answering the first officer’s question.
“I hear something,” he whispered as he lowered his index finger and tapped an icon at the comm station. “It sounds like chatter—sort of. Gimme a minute. I’ll clean it up.”
The first officer turned his head toward me. Whether it was for confirmation, permission to discipline the communications officer, or what, I wasn’t sure. But, as chief of operations, he was their direct supervisor. I kept silent and waited to see what he would do.
“Navigation,” he said, turning back to the bow of the Revenge, “where are we?”
“Um…”
“‘Um’ is not an answer, Lieutenant,” Zadair growled. “Where are we?”
“Stand by,” the navigator said.
Zadair looked over at me again. I ignored the unspoken request to turn up the heat. I could tell by the slope of the navigator’s shoulders, the way he traced his fingers along lines of data, and the way he held his breath that something was amiss. Another five seconds passed before he turned around.
“Sir,” he said, squinting one eye, “I think we’re in hyperspace.”
So, this was hyperspace. I wanted to stand, to see if there was anything different in how I felt, in how I perceived my surroundings, but we were still at battle stations. My job was to remain in my chair until I ordered my crew to stand down. And given the situation, that could be a while.
The bridge buzzed with silent activity. Each person pored over the data at his or her station. Some whispered quietly and leaned over in their chairs to peer at the data from another terminal.
“Sir!” the communications officer said, his voice an octave higher than usual. “I think I hear—”
“Contact!” the tactical officer interrupted. “Bearing two degrees, mark five degrees. Five, no, six targets! They’re coming about, Sir! Distance… uh… I’m not sure. Looks like a quarter-million miles, but I can’t be sure. Our computers can’t make sense of any of this.”
“Identify the targets!” I ordered.
“They’re. . . they’re Xeno, Sir,” the communications officer reported.
“Tactical,” I said with as much calm as I could muster, “I want to see them.”
The image on the viewscreen took a full second to resolve, but there they were. Six ships, just as ugly as ours. Either the Xeno had known what we’d try, or they’d gotten extremely lucky. Either way, their presence couldn’t be denied.
“But, we’re in hyperspace,” the navigation officer whispered. “How can they come about in hyperspace? We’re traveling millions of miles per hour! How could they—”
“They are!” I interrupted. “How is not our concern. They’re here, and they’re making a hostile move. Can we stop?”
The navigation officer shrugged. “Unknown, Sir. Probably, but I don’t know how to do it.”
I had a choice. I could bring the crew in for what would almost certainly be the last fight we’d ever see, or I could abandon the ship. Either way, I didn’t think it was likely any of us would survive.
If leaving the Revenge aboard escape pods would remove the crew from hyperspace, they could be separated by thousands or more miles. There might be a world they could land on and wait for rescue, but there would be no way to tell anyone where they were. There would probably be no way for any of the survivors to find each other. More likely, they’d float alone in the deep void until they ran out of breathable air, became dehydrated, or starved to death.
Or I could take the crew with me and strike hard against the enemies right in front of us. The ship itself would be enough to destroy two of theirs if we could get the angle right when we rammed them. The weapons pods might take care of one or two more. And we’d take some of them out with us. It wouldn’t be the millions I’d planned on, but we’d do our part for Mars.
For the first time in my life, I thought earnestly of the Void Gods. If they really existed, if they were supernatural beings of some kind, maybe they could help. It felt foolish, but I sent a thought to them anyway. One can never have too many tactical advantages in combat.
I shook myself free of my brief foray into religious piety. I would have to do this myself. Someone had to get back to the Federation and tell them about the Xeno’s presence in the void. Someone had to explain what happened in hyperspace. We had to give our people a chance.
“First officer,” I said, “order the crew into the evacuation pods.”
“We’re ready to do go down with the ship, Sir,” he said, an angry edge to his voice. “There is no greater honor than to die for the Federation, except to kill for her. Tonight, we dine in the mess hall, or we dine in hell, Sir.”
We met eyes and stared for several seconds before I realized he wasn’t going to back down. I scanned the faces of the rest of the crew who, except for the tactical officer who pored over the telemetry on his board, all stared at me. They were willing to stand up to their captain rather than dishonor themselves or miss the opportunity to kill some bugs. I couldn’t have been more damn
