Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“How long are they going keep us waiting?” Pryafox asked.

Devereux heard the deep concern buried in his tone. “As long as they like,” She replied quietly, her eyes fixed on the main bridge displays.

“The longer, the better, if you ask me,” the Chief added over the open intercom channel.

Devereux nodded slowly in agreement. The longer it took for the enemy forces to arrive, the closer their own Fleet would be. She was truly not that eager to go up against them alone, even in a stand-off.

Something burned in her stomach and she tried to remember the last time that she had eaten anything. Although begrudging the idea of taking any time or attention away from their current situation, she knew their enemy did not care whether she died with an empty stomach or not.

“Elizabeth,” she said, turning toward her First Officer. “Instruct whoever’s on duty on the galley to—“

“Captain!” Gho shouted. “Sensors are reading a massive transition horizon about two hundred thousand kilometers to starboard aft.”

“On the center screen,” Devereux told her.

A moment later, the area of space it showed jumped to a new perspective.

“Enhance,” Devereux ordered. She knew that the actual shifts in the spatial fields would be invisible to the naked eye, but she wanted to see what came out of it. “Put the gravimetric image on Screen One.”

The leftmost screen flickered, its image replaced by computer-generated, false-color representations of the gravitational shifts happening in space around them.

“Wait,” Gho called out again. “There’s a second one: about ten degrees to port.”

“The same size?”

Gho nodded, her eyes growing wide.

“Bring them both up,” Devereux said. “Keep monitoring them.”

The image on the first screen split into two, showing the charts of both slipstream events. The far left screen showed, for the moment, an empty region of space.

She’s right, Devereux agreed, feeling her stomach form knots. They’re massive.

She checked the bridge chronometer. It was too soon to be the Fleet vessels, no matter how many chances they took going into their jumps.

There’s only one reason for the transition effect to be that large, Devereux told herself with growing dread. They’re either sending through a massive fleet, or . . .

Even as the image on the center screen began to show clarity, Devereux knew what she would see. Within moments, the screen on the right would show her the same thing. Their new enemy was not bothering with small squadrons of fighters; they were sending in their destroyers.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hawkes resumed his post quickly, issuing orders to his teams on weapons readiness and internal security measures. Based on what the Star Wing had told them, it was unlikely that they would be boarded, but his Security personnel could still be useful performing other support functions during the battle. Some had been cross-trained as field medics, so could offer emergency aid, or technicians who could assist with damage control.

As the status reports arrived, he was gratified to see that his battle readiness program had been successful. Overall time to full battle readiness had improved by more than two seconds since the last ship-wide drill. Pleased by their performance, he noted commendations for several of his officers in his log.

The Captain strode onto the bridge alone. She paused just inside the hatchway, surveying the activity on the bridge around her. The hatch was closed quickly behind her. This confirmed that the Security team assigned to defend the bridge was at it station, as reported.

“Captain,” he informed Devereux. “All weapons are online and ready. Torpedoes are loaded in all launchers. Awaiting your authorization to arm them.”

Devereux nodded her acknowledgment. “Very good, Lieutenant,” she said. “Stand by.” She took two steps toward the Science station. “Lieutenant Gho, are we picking anything up yet?”

Gho consulted her console displays again before answering. “Still clear, Captain,” she reported. “No signs of any transition events.”

Devereux nodded. “Inform me immediately if you see anything,” she told the Science Officer. “Don’t wait to confirm it.”

“Yes, Captain,” Gho acknowledged quickly and turned her attention promptly back to her station.

Turning toward her First Officer, Devereux said, “Get me a report from Engineering. Have the Chief work with Lieutenant Hawkes to make sure we have enough damage control teams stationed around the ship.” Her mouth drew into a tight line. “I have a bad feeling we’re going to need them.”

“Yes, Captain,” Elizabeth responded. “I’ll let him know.”

“Good,” Devereux responded, nodding. “I assume Hope has the infirmary ready to go?”

The First Officer checked her tablet. “Yes, she does,” Elizabeth said. “She’s requesting these people be assigned as emergency medics.” She held out the tablet for Devereux to see.

The Captain scanned it quickly, nodding slowly. “I don’t think Perkins should be assigned; she’ll have enough to worry about. Otherwise, I’m fine with it. Okay it with the Chief and the Lieutenant, though,” she said, nodding toward Hawkes, “before telling Hope.”

“Yes, Captain,” Elizabeth replied, pulling the tablet back. She moved to the intercom at the secondary Science station and began to confer with Engineering.

“Lieutenant,” Devereux said, addressing the helmsman. “This could get . . . interesting.”

“Aye, Captain,” the helmsman answered. Tension was obvious along his jowls and the lines of his tightly-muscled shoulders.

“If you see that we’re about to get our nacelles shot off, don’t wait for my orders. Understood?” she told him, waiting for his nod of acknowledgment. “Take whatever evasive action you feel is necessary to protect the ship.”

“Aye, Captain.” His voice was barely audible beyond the helm station.

The Captain rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. “At a time like this,” she said, just loud enough to be heard, “there’s no one else I’d want at the helm.”

Hawkes noticed a sudden shift in the Lieutenant’s posture. Tension did not leave the young officer’s body entirely, but he sat with more confidence now.

Devereux removed her hand, but remained for a moment, studying the images on the main bridge displays. Her expression shifted slightly, as if she had come to some decision. Turning away, she headed for her station on the command deck.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hope manipulated the controls of the secondary Science console. Nothing she did, however, improved the integrity of the life sign readings coming from the Chief Engineer’s and Security Lieutenant’s suits. Despite her efforts, the signals continued to degrade until the data they produced was meaningless.

She had told the Captain the truth: the Chief Engineer and Security Lieutenant had been alive, and in nominal health, before the readings became distorted. She had no reason to believe that they did not still remain so. The preliminary results of her simulations had revealed no serious detrimental effects on human physiology as a result of exposure to the microgravity fields. Still, she would have preferred intelligible readings that proved this to be true.

She looked at the Science station to see the Tactical Officer and Science Officer conferring, as the Captain had ordered them to. Turning toward the Captain, Hope saw in her solemn discussion with the First Officer. The Navigator’s attention, she noted, alternated between the images being displayed on the main screens and readings on his console. He remained tasked with keeping the vessel at its present coordinates. Of them all, Hope found that, with the remote life sign readings unavailable to her, she was only the one with no immediate function.

“Hope?” the Captain called to her, interrupted her silent self-assessment. Although mildly startling, she was relieved that her presence still appeared necessary.

“Captain.”

She approached the Captain and First Officer.

The Captain looked at her thoughtfully. “How long can the Chief and Lieutenant Ferahim survive in the middle of that field?”

Hope glanced back toward the life sign monitors to see whether they might now be functioning. They were not: garbled data still filled the screens. She turned back to face the Captain.

“While suit life support functions.”

Devereux frowned in surprise. “So they shouldn’t be affected by the interference fields or gravity pockets?”

“Simulations report no significant effects.”

“What about their suits?”

Hope stared at the Captain in surprise. The functioning of the space suits was not in her area of knowledge.

“That was not simulated.”

The Captain’s frown deepened. “But their suits should protect them?”

“If they function, yes.”

The Captain turned to the First Officer. “Get me someone from Engineering,” she ordered urgently. “I want to know that interference field can scramble more than the communications systems of those suits.”

“Right away, Captain,” the First Officer replied. Her expression revealed her sudden fear.

“Lieutenant Hawkes,” the Captain said, addressing the Tactical Officer. “Any progress on finding us a workable frequency?”

“Not yet, Captain,” the Tactical Officer reported. “We have begun testing a first set of possible frequencies.” He paused a moment before continuing. “However, the interference spans a large range of the electromagnetic spectrum and is not stable within that range.”

The Captain’s bright green eyes darkened with frustration. “Send some of your people out onto the hull with handheld lasers, if you need to. We need to regain contact with our people.”

The Tactical Officer faced the Captain evenly. His expression revealed almost nothing of his surprise at her uncharacteristic outburst.

“We will consider that option, Captain.” He waited until the Captain turned away to confer once more with the Science Officer.

“Lieutenant,” the Captain said, speaking to the Navigator now. “Get a relief down here. I want you ready in the shuttle in case we need to go in after them.”

“Aye, Captain,” the Navigator responded swiftly. His excitement was clearly evident. It lasted only a moment, though.

“Emerald Flight, we are receiving your transmission.” The Security Lieutenant’s voice was barely audible above the background wash of interference. Her statement was clear, though.

“We’ve established contact, Captain,” the Tactical Officer reported. “Although I cannot guarantee how long it can be maintained.”

Hope watched as relief flowed across the expression of every crew member on the bridge.

“Chief, Lieutenant,” Devereux called out, probably louder than was necessary, as if she hoped to penetrate the communications interference through the sheer strength of her voice alone. “What’s your status?”

Their first words were lost in a muted burst of static. It was unclear who had spoken them.

“. . . few meters from the . . .”

The rest of the response was washed away by a new wave of interference, Hope was certain that she heard distinct intonations indicating the Security Lieutenant’s voice. For several moments, nothing more was heard except for the irregularly pulsing hiss of the interference field.

“Bridge,” the Chief Engineer’s voice suddenly broke through. It sounded unusually subdued even through the muting effects of the interference. “I think we’ve gone and found ourselves an angel.”

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Several spurts of static answered him, but nothing that seemed intelligible. Hawkes replayed the message through the communication filters, designed for such situations, but they produced only one or two barely understandable words.

Hawkes’ lifted his head to look at the main bridge displays. The images being transmitted from the helmet cameras, while not clear to begin with, now showed ragged flashes of false color from across the spectrum. His eyes turned toward the locator grid. It still showed bright dots that represented the Chief Engineer’s and Lieutenant Ferahim’s positions. As he watched, though, even those began to flicker in intensity.

“Chief Rayna, Ensign Ferahim, please respond on this frequency,” Hawkes called out calmly. “We are not receiving your audio signal.”

He was answered only by a steady hiss.

“Life signs?” Devereux asked, turning toward Hope.

Hawkes turned to look as well. Even from where he stood, he could see that her readings were now every bit as erratic as the other signals.

“Inconclusive.”

“But they’re alive?” Devereux asked. Hawkes heard the urgent need for confirmation in her voice.

“They were,” Hope replied. “Readings are now unreliable.”

Devereux spun toward Elizabeth. “Recall them. Send as much power through the comm grid as it can handle. See if you can punch a signal through.”

“Yes, Captain,” the First Officer acknowledged, and began issuing the necessary orders to Engineering.

“Lieutenant,” the Captain turned back to Hawkes now. “Work with Lieutenant Gho to see if there are any communications frequencies that can penetrate that interference.”

“Yes, Captain,” Hawkes acknowledged the order swiftly.

He looked toward the main Science station. Gho appeared on the edge of panic.

She is young. Reassure her, he told himself. And then get to work.

He loaded a tablet with the data he needed and walked over to her.

“Lieutenant,” he approached her with detached calm, offering her the tablet. “Can you please verify these readings of the interference patterns of the field? I believe it would be more efficient for you to do so. It is not my area of expertise.”

Gho looked at Hawkes with undisguised surprise, and then eyed the tablet with wary caution. She accepted it, studying Hawkes’ expression. It, of course, revealed nothing more.

“I’ll get right on it, sir,” Gho answered diffidently.

“Please so,” Hawkes said. “I suspect that the Captain would prefer prompt action from us.”

Gho swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

The image being broadcast from the Chief’s helmet camera changed. The objects ahead of him, particularly the oddly shaped construction, increased in size as he moved closer.

“. . . six! Disengage thrusters.”

“Thrusters off,” Ferahim acknowledged. “Confirmed.”

The speed at which images grew larger steadied, now that he was traveling at a constant velocity.

“Are you seeing this, Bridge?”

“Affirmative, Chief,” Elizabeth replied.

Devereux glanced over at her with a quick smile. The young Commander glowed under the silent praise.

“It doesn’t look any prettier from out here,” the Chief reported. “I think I saw something like it in a museum once. I don’t remember which one.”

Devereux’s interest was piqued. The object, what they could make of it, did not look familiar to her at all. Although there was a remote chance of any connection, it might still reveal a clue to its origin.

“The Boston Museum of Science? The NASA museum? The Sagan Observatory?”

“No,” the Chief answered abruptly. “I remember now. It was the Toyota-Ford World Wrestling Arena.”

“What was it doing there?”

“A piece of their ceiling caved in.”

Devereux was certain that she heard Pyrafox snicker. She stared hard at the back of his red-furred head, but he did not turn around.

Rolling her eyes, she sighed and looked over at Elizabeth. To her credit, her First Officer’s expression displayed a very straight face. The tension of that corners of Elizabeth’s jaws, though, told Devereux how hard she was working to maintain it.

“I suppose we should start taking some readings now or something. Huh, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir,” Ferahim answered promptly.

Devereux’s eyed turned toward the main Science station. They were already receiving automatic telemetry from the suit, but not the detailed readings there were looking for. The Chief and Ferahim were still too far away to see anything that the telescope back on the large fragment had not already shown them.

Muffled sounds came over the comm channel as the pair detached and readied their portable scanners. Few of the words were clear, but Devereux was certain that at least a half dozen of the ones coming from the Chief’s suit radio would be considered profane in at least three cultures.

“Okay,” the Chief finally reported. “We’re ready. Transmitting now.”

“Bring them up on Screen Three, split screen,” Devereux instructed Gho.

The image flickered and then two almost identical computer-rendered images formed at the top and bottom of the bridge display. Each seemed filled with a thin haze, preventing any real details from being seen.

Devereux looked toward Gho, but the Science officer just shook her head.

“Can you adjust your resolution?” Elizabeth asked.

“You seem to think I know how to work this blasted thing . . .”

Devereux suppressed a slight smile. The Chief was determined to keep up the appearance of being just a overranked deckhand—despite the fact that he knew how to repair and operate nearly every piece of equipment aboard their ship.

“There,” he said, his voice crackling slightly. “I think I’ve got it.” His voice dropped and Devereux assumed that he was conferring with Ferahim. “Is that any better?”

Devereux studied the images on the screen. To her eyes, it looked about the same as before, perhaps even less defined. She turned her head to get Elizabeth’s and Gho’s opinion. Their expressions told her that they shared her appraisal.

“It actually looks worse, Chief,” she told him.

There was no doubt at all in her mind at the profane content of his next words.

“Bridge,” Ferahim’s soft, lyrical tones sounded over the comm channel through a thin haze of static. “I have adjusted my scanner. Has the image improved?”

Devereux looked toward the far right bridge display, seeing that the ensign’s readings appeared on the lower half of the screen. It looked no different from the images being created from the Chief’s scanner.

“It’s not any better, Ensign,” Devereux replied. “Sorry.”

There was a short burst of sound that might have been profanity from the Chief again, but it was too garbled to tell for certain.

“Bridge,” the Chief said, a little more clearly, “we might . . . need you to . . .”

Muted hisses of noise swallowed the rest of his words.

#

“Chief,” Devereux said. “Repeat your message. We lost your transmission at the end there.”

“Bridge,” the Chief’s voice burst from the speakers, but it was awash in interference.

He is either shouting, or has boosted his signal gain. Perhaps both.

The Captain turned to Hawkes. “I want to see their positions.”

Hawkes tapped the necessary controls on his console.The locator grid on Screen One reappeared, showing the Chief’s and Ferahim’s positions.

“Their suits are still transmitting,” the Captain reported with some relief.

“They function on a much higher wavelength,” Hawkes reminded her. “Due to the likelihood of just such a phenomenon.”

Devereux flashed him a tight-lipped look of irritation and then gestured for him to take over communications.

“Chief Rayna . . . Ensign Ferahim, please respond,” Hawkes called out calmly. “We are not receiving your signal clearly.”

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Rusty stared out into the debris field. He could make out the object in the distance, although without any of the detail that the telescope had revealed.

Oh joy.

Still, he had to admit to being intrigued by the mystery of the object. It was scrambling their sensors, which probably meant that it was hiding something. That was the part that worried him. When someone went to that kind of effort, it almost always meant they had something to hide. Even if it was only pirated cargo, trouble was always hidden behind the curtain of sensor static.

“Check your tanks,” Rusty told Ferahim.

He verified the readings on his own. With a full charge, each suit should have enough air for at least twelve hours. They had been out for less than two.

“Air at eighty-six percent,” the attractive young Security officer replied. “All power systems are nominal.”

His own showed eighty-two percent, slightly less than he had hoped, but still within the expected range.

Must have been all that heavy lifting . . .

He moved over to inspect the safety lines for Tsu-Tao and Jeffries. He checked the fastenings, making doubly sure that Jefferies’ was secure.

Last thing we need is him floating off . . .

Tsu-tao, he knew, could handle himself. The ensign was a veteran of several EVA repair missions. He had not, Rusty recalled, enjoyed any of them, but he had done them. If Ferahim was having any issues, she was doing a superb job of hiding it.

“I’m thinking just our cameras and our portable sensors,” he said aloud. “That okay with you, Cap’n?”

There was a moment’s pause before the captain’s voice sounded in his helmet.

“Confirmed,” Devereux said. “Activate the data feeds before you head out.”

“Acknowledged,” Rusty replied.

He looked toward Ferahim and saw that she already had her sensor unit out. Rusty activated his own, waited until it was fully powered on, and then switched on its transmitter. A stream of data appeared along the lower edge of his helmet visor.

“Are you getting that, Bridge?”

“Affirmative,” Elizabeth replied. “Lieutenant, your . . . there it is.” There was a murmured conversation in the background before her voice returned. “We’re receiving data from both of you now, Chief.”

He looked up into the debris field again, peering at the position of their target.

“I don’t suppose anyone thought to bring a map?”

“‘X’ marks the spot, Chief,” Devereux remarked.

Rusty rolled his eyes.

Everyone’s a comedian . . .

“We’re sending you updated telemetry now, Chief,” Elizabeth reported. “Are you receiving it?”

Rusty checked his helmet display. The trio of location coordinates for the object changed slightly, just by a decimal place or two. Still, he knew it did not take much more than that to miss a target in deep space.

“I’ve got it,” he confirmed. “What about you, pretty lady?” she asked Ferahim.

“Updated coordinates received,” she replied, sounding disappointingly professional.

Oh, she’s a good one. That old fossil needs to lay off those poor people.

Rusty checked the coordinates again, noting the distance and position of the mysterious object in their “sky”.

“I’m thinking a six-second initial thrust,” he mused aloud, not really caring if anyone agreed with him or not. “That should at least get us closer for some better readings.”

“Just keep it to a straight line,” Pryafox said. “We’re picking up some microgravity pockets along the periphery.”

“Just like bumper pool,” Rusty remarked.

In his mind, he could see both Devereux and Elizabeth reacting that one: Devereux shaking her head and Elizabeth with wide-eyed dismay.

He turned to Ferahim. “Ready, Lieutenant?”

“Ready, Chief.”

“Okay then,” Rusty said, taking a deep breath. “Six seconds. On my mark . . .”

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Elizabeth stared at the augmented image on the screen, trying to make sense of it. Although the object remained indistinct, it was clearly not a fragment of an obliterated asteroid. What it was, though, she had no idea.

“What do you make of that?” Devereux asked, directly her question primarily toward Hawkes.

“I’ve seen nothing like it before,” Hawkes replied. He studied his console, but made no further comments.

Devereux turned toward the Science station. “Anything?”

Gho consulted her console and then shook her head. “We’re still not reading it, Captain.”

“Is that what’s causing the interference?”

The Science officer tapped several controls on her station before lifting her hands away from it in frustrated surrender.

“I don’t know, Captain,” she sounding apologetic. “I can’t tell.” She gestured toward the main bridge displays. “It’s almost at the center of the interference field, so it might be.”

“Chief,” Devereux called over the open comm channel. “Can you zoom in any further?”

“All you like, Cap’n,” the Chief replied. “But I don’t think it’ll help you much.”

“Humor me,” Devereux said without rancor. “Give us another ten.”

A moment later, the screen was filled with the hazy image. As the Chief had warned them, it provided very little in the way of new information. Devereux turned toward the Science again, but Gho interrupted her before the Captain could speak.

“That’s the best the computer can do, Captain,” she stated. “There just isn’t enough data for it to extrapolate from.”

The Captain’s lips formed a tight line. She looked toward Hawkes and then at Elizabeth.

“Your assessment, Commander?”

Elizabeth fought not to let her surprise show.

“I think,” she said, hesitantly, trying to gather her thoughts into some organized fashion. “The Chief will need to go take a closer look,” she finished more confidently.

Devereux nodded slowly, giving her a faint smile. “I agree.” She tilted her head toward the main screens. “See to it.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard past a sudden lump.

“Chief,” she called out, trying to ignore the slight waver in her voice.

“Yep,” the Chief replied. “We’re still here. No one remembered to pack stuff for a coffee break.”

Elizabeth let the quip go unnoticed.

“Chief,” she repeated. “We need you to take a closer look at the object. We’ve done all we can from here.”

“‘You’, meaning me, personally?”

Elizabeth looked over at Devereux. The Captain waited patiently for Elizabeth to respond, giving her absolutely no indication of what she thought. Turning to face the main screens, Elizabeth studied the image, using those few moments to decide.

“Your call,” she said aloud.

In her mind’s eye, she could see the Chief’s smirk for having placed her in that spot.

“All right then,” he agreed. There was a pause while he considered the situation. “Lieutenant,” he said, “we’re going for a nice romantic walk under the stars.” If Ferahim responded, it was obscured as the Chief continued. “Tsu,” he said. “Stay here with the professor and make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

“Yes, sir,” the engineer responded. Elizabeth could not tell solely by his tone over the comm channel whether he was disappointed or relieved.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

All eyes on the bridge turned toward the main bridge screens. Although nothing they showed was remarkable, the fact that they could see anything at all was.

Perhaps now we will know, Hope thought.

“How’s that, Bridge?” the Chief Engineer asked.

The Captain quickly surveyed the expressions of the others on the bridge.

“Keep going,” the Captain instructed him. “Give us a full sweep of the area. We’ll let you know if we want you to go back.”

“Copy that,” the Chief Engineer replied. “You want a full souvenir album to commemorate your full-filled journey through The Mysterious Asteroid Field of Doom.”

It took Hope a moment to reconcile the Chief Engineer’s statement with the cheery tone with which he delivered it. The name he had assigned to the phenomenon denoted serious danger; his recitation of it did not.

The image on the center screen moved very slowly, but noticeably, as the telescope tracked through the region of space that the Captain had indicated. There was nothing visible that hinted at the source of the interference field. It appeared, essentially, to be just another section of the asteroid debris field.

The Tactical Officer studied his own displays intently. His expression revealed puzzlement and a growing concern. Others members of the crew might not have noticed it, Hope suspected, except for perhaps the Captain.

“What is, Lieutenant?” the Captain asked, confirming Hope’s assessment of her abilities to understand her crew.

“I’m not certain, Captain,” the Tactical Officer said. His answer surprised Hope. The Tactical Officer rarely admitted to a lack of knowledge. “May I?” he requested, gesturing toward the main bridge displays.

The Captain nodded her approval.

“Chief,” the Tactical Officer called out. “Please redirect the telescope back to these coordinates.” His fingers moved across his console as he transmitted the data back to the team.

“Got it, Chief,” Tsu-tao reported. “Adjusting the angle now.”

The image on the center screen moved more quickly, giving the illusion that the vessel was spinning to starboard. After several moments, the scene steadied. Positioned almost directly in its center was an irregularly-shaped object, probably smaller than the asteroid fragment on which the EVA team was now standing.

“Congratulations, Lieutenant,” the Chief Engineer said. “You’re discovered another rock. Do you want us to name it after you?”

“That will not be necessary,” the Tactical Officer replied icily. There was a momentary pause while he reinforced his composure. “Magnify by a factor of ten, please.”

The image on the center screen grew larger, but revealed nothing of obvious interest. It still appeared to be a rock fragment, although perhaps a more oddly shaped one than most.

“By another factor of ten, please.”

The screen shimmered and then displayed even closer view of the fragment. Its details remained indistinct, looking more like an oversized dust mote than a chunk of rock.

“Can you enhance the image?” the Tactical Officer asked.

“I might be able to at this end,” the Science Officer replied. “Let me see what the computer can do with it?” She tapped a few controls. “Chief?” she called over the comm channel. “Are you transmitting at maximum resolution?”

There was a momentary delay before the Chief Engineer answered. “Tsu says we are.”

“Okay,” the Science Officer acknowledged. “Stand by.”

For several moments, the image on the screen remained the same. Then, slowly, the computer extrapolated more information from the sensor data and updated the image. Edges gained definition. A collective hush fell over the bridge as details became more apparent.

“Chief,” the First Officer asked. “Are you seeing this?”

“Yeah . . .” the Chief Engineer answered in a hushed tone. “What in the name of Morris is it?”

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

The communications of the EVA team settled into routine conversation as they unpacked and assembled the sampling equipment. Hawkes continued to monitor it, but resumed his other tasks. At the First Officer’s request, he assigned a member of his team to assist with the preparation of the shuttle. The security risk was low, but he silently commended the First Officer for electing to have one of his officers present.

The shuttle normally carried only basic emergency supplies intended for the treatment of minor medical issues. While it might be possible to stabilize a badly injured crewmember until they could return to the ship, it was not typically equipped to deal with major or traumatic injuries. Almost all mission teams included a qualified medic, but there were simply some situations that required the skills of a fully-trained physician and a well-stocked infirmary.

“That should do it,” the Chief Engineer’s voice sounded clearly through the speakers. “Right, Doc of the Rocks?”

There was garbled noise before Jeffries responded. Hawkes guessed that it was the geology specialist expressing his disapproval of the Chief Engineer’s sobriquet.

“One second,” Jeffries said. “Let me check something.” Several seconds passed before he spoke again. “Yes,” he announced finally. “That should it now.”

“Ready whenever you are, Doc.”

“Engaging the core drill now,” Jeffries said. “We should start getting readings in a few moments.”

Several moments of relative quiet passed before Tsu-tao reported, “It’s transmitting the data now, Chief.”

“Bridge?” the Chief Engineer queried them. “Are you receiving this?”

Devereux looked toward Lieutenant Gho. The Lieutenant tapped several controls on her console and then nodded in confirmation.

“Yes, Captain,” she reported. “We’re receiving data telemetry from drill sensors.”

“Anything unusual?”

The young Science officer studied the displays on her console for several seconds before answering. “Nothing that I can make out,” she finally replied. “The few unusual elements we detected seem to be only at the surface layer. The rest of the core seems to be pretty much you’d expect from a fragment like this.”

Devereux appeared mildly disappointed by the news. Hawkes found the results hardly surprising. Despite their anomalous location in space, there was been no indications so far that there was anything extraordinary about the asteroid fragments. Rather then feeling disappointment, Hawkes experienced relief that nothing dangerously unusual, and therefore potentially hostile, had been discovered.

“Have you managed to get any new readings past the interference in the field?” Devereux was asking Gho.

Gho shook her head. “No, Captain,” she replied. “There haven’t been any more weakening of the field interference.”

Devereux nodded her understanding, but looked unhappy about the report.

“Chief,” she said. “You brought along the short-range telescope, right?”

“Sure thing, Cap’n,” the Chief Engineer replied. “They’re just finished setting it up now. What do you need?”

“Can you aim it toward the center of the interference field and the give us a live feed?”

“Tsu?” the Chief asked. “Can we?”

“No problem, Chief,” the ensign replied. “We’ll need another three or four minutes.”

“You have two,” the Chief told him.

Hawkes was surprised and impressed by the Chief Engineer’s attempt to drive his team to higher levels of performance. His reluctant admiration was short-lived, however, when the Chief Engineer chuckled loudly.

“We’re set here, Bridge,” the Chief announced a few minutes later. “Ready for some pretty pictures?”

“We’re ready here, Chief,” Devereux replied. “Lieutenant,” she said, addressing Pyrafox, “bring the feed up on Screen One.”

“Aye, Captain,” the helmsman acknowledged.

The locator grid faded from the screen, replaced by a slowly resolving image of an arc of the debris field. Its resolution was not as high as that that could be provided by the ship’s sensors.

But at the moment, Hawkes considered, the ship’s sensors are providing nothing except for occasional fluctuations in the interference field.

There appeared to be nothing remarkable in the images being transmitted from the telescope. Additional fragments, in a variety of sizes, were visible within the debris field. For the most part, they did not different significantly from other asteroid fields that Hawkes had seen in his lifetime. Recalling those memories brought him a startling realization—one that he reprimanded himself for not recognizing before.

“Captain,” he called out, maintaining an even, if urgent, tone. “It appears that the interference field does not prevent our visual study of the phenomenon.”

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Her mind was already working on the problem, thinking through which sensor readings to focus on and how to set up the simulations.

Stop, she told herself. That’s not your job any more.

She felt a sharp and hollow sense of loss at no longer being in the middle of tasks like that. Stealing a quick glance at Devereux, she wondered how the Captain managed it. She had seen the Captain on the deck, smeared with grime and lubricants, trying to repair a damaged console.

But that had been under battle conditions, with everyone else trying to keep the ship in one piece.

Sure, Elizabeth knew, the Captain got to make all of the important decisions. That was her job. Except when that kind of direct action was needed, though, it was starting to look like Captain’s job consisted of a lot of mindless paperwork—at least that which she did not foist off on her First Officer. Elizabeth began to wonder in earnest now about her career aspirations.

Maybe having your own command isn’t everything it’s hyped up to be . . .

Elizabeth checked the Engineering duty roster and saw that the Chief had left Sanderson in charge. He was coming off duty, though, so she sent the orders to Aruna, who would be taking over the shift in less than thirty minutes. She included a copy of the sensor data, and then had to stop herself from annotating it with her own recommendations.

How does the Captain do it?

Devereux was thorough when she needed to be, Elizabeth recognized, but she never micro-managed her crew. She depended on them each to do their jobs, and assumed that they knew how do them. Elizabeth wondered if she could ever achieve that level of confidence and comfort with her colleagues.

You’d better, she warned herself. Or you’ll have the next crew in the fleet to mutiny.

As serious as the thought was, the relative absurdity of it brought a small smile to her face. It made her feel a little better about the entire situation. Looking down at her tablet, she studied the next set of requests coming in from various departments throughout the ship.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Accessing another set of controls, Hope verified that she had remote access to the medical systems incorporated into each of the team members’ space suits. They all reported as functional, including the overrides. That task completed, Hope turned from the console to observe the other members of the bridge crew.

The Navigator remained busy at the task assigned to him by the Captain. Occasionally, he emitted small noises that Hope was not certain that the others on the bridge could hear. She had no idea what the sounds indicated, and found them quite distracting. During her time with humans, she had learned that they often made such sounds for a variety of reasons. Often, they were used as a means to indicate that they were thinking or, more commonly, delaying while they considered a less candid response than the one in their thoughts. This was not an Aerian shortcoming.

“Captain,” the Science Lieutenant called out from her station. “I’m getting some new readings from the debris field.”

The Captain looked up with interest. “What do you have?”

“There was a small break in the interference,” the Science Lieutenant reported. “We’ve picked up another source of those organic components, and some additional metals.”

“Anything interesting?”

The Science Lieutenant shook her head. “It’s hard to tell,” she said. “We’re still too far away. But they look to be some unusually complex ores.”

“Why do say that?”

The Science Lieutenant looked uncomfortable. “Because if they’re not,” she finally said, “then the debris field contains manufactured alloys.”

- 7 -

Elizabeth’s surprise mirrored what she saw reflected on the Captain’s face. It took only a moment for the implications of Gho’s announcement to sink in.

There’s been other ships out here before.

“Can you tell what type?” Devereux asked.

Gho’s chagrin was clearly evident as she shook her head again. “Not yet,” she said. “At least not for certain.”

The Captain looked toward the Tactical station with concern. Lieutenant Hawkes met get her glance squarely. Neither said a word, but Elizabeth was certain that some kind of communication had passed between them. She felt a twinge of jealousy at being left out.

Devereux turned to look at the main bridge displays.

“It will be difficult to detect slipstream events within the field,” Hawkes said aloud.

“I know,” Devereux replied, just barely loud enough to be heard. “Let’s hope it’s too dangerous for them to transition there.”

“That might explain the alloys,” Elizabeth offered.

Devereux looked at her thoughtfully.

“Do you want me to consult with Engineering?” Hawkes asked.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer, but Devereux cut her off.

“No,” she turned to Elizabeth. “I want you to,” she said. “Have them provide us with their best guess as soon as possible.” Her eyes held firmly onto Elizabeth’s. “Have them do the work. Keep it internal. The Chief has enough to worry about at the moment.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Devereux looked away.

Elizabeth swallowed and headed for the main Science station to ask Gho to send the latest readings to her tablet.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Elizabeth could not help but chuckle at the Chief’s announcement. Scattered clapping sounded from various locations around the bridge. Neither Hawkes nor Hope participated in the applause, she noticed, but also found that unsurprising.

“Nice work, Chief,” the Captain called out. “Now be careful out there.”

“Yes, Mom,” Rusty muttered.

Elizabeth’s cheeks tingles with embarrassment at the Chief’s remark. She then realized that he was probably perfect aware that the comm channel remained open. Stealing a quick glance at the Captain, Elizabeth saw that Devereux appeared to be ignoring the remark. Elizabeth shook her head and moved toward the primary Science station.

“Anything new?” she asked Gho.

The oriental Science officer shook her head, causing her dark, chin-length hair to brush against her cheeks. “Nothing yet,” she reported. “They’re just setting up the equipment now.”

“Okay,” Elizabeth responded, trying hard not to sigh. This was the part she hated the most: the waiting, particularly when she was not there.

She glanced toward Tactical and saw Hawkes busy at his station. There was nothing particularly threatening about this situation, from a tactical standpoint anyway. She wondered just what it was he found to do.

“I guess we should take some samples or something,” Rusty’s said over the speakers. “How ‘bout over here, Doctor?”

Elizabeth glanced toward Hope, confused until she realized that the Chief was addressing Lieutenant Jeffries.

An unintelligible noise came over the comm channel. Elizabeth guessed it was Jeffries considering the Chief’s question.

“About two meters behind you and to the right, I think,” the geologist finally answered.

“Whatever you say, Doc.” There was a short burst of muted sound. “You heard the man,” Rusty called out. “Start unpacking.”

The communication between the team members settled into routine conversation. Elizabeth tuned it out and checked her tablet. A small team was in the process of preparing the shuttle for launch, as ordered. She glanced over the manifest of items being added to its stores, seeing some additional medical supplies listed that Hope must have requested.

The shuttle normally carried rudimentary emergency supplies, such a collapsible stretcher, that were really only intended to handle minor medical issues. It was not equipped to deal with major or traumatic injuries. Although almost all mission teams included a qualified medic, there were simply some situations that required the skills of a fully-trained physician and a well-stocked infirmary. Elizabeth wondered which of the supplies Hope had requested fell into that category. She did not recognize many of them, but figured that if they fit in the shuttle, there was no reason not to include them.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Although surprised by the Captain’s order that she monitor the team from the bridge, Hope had, of course obeyed. She would have preferred to do it from the private sanctuary of the infirmary, but as she had no patients there right now, she could raise no justifiable objections.

Hope took a position at one of the secondary Science stations. Activating the console, she reconfigured it to display the medical telemetry being recorded and transmitted from the mission team’s spacesuits. The console surface cleared and then displayed four distinct sets of medical data, one for each member of the team.

All within expected ranges.

Lieutenant Jeffries’ respiration was on the higher side of normal, but still within the acceptable range. The readings for everyone else caused her no concern.

“How are we doing, Lieutenant?” the Captain asked Navigator Pyrafox.

“Holding position, Captain,” the Navigator replied. “No more problems.”

“Glad to hear it,” the Captain responded. Hope heard the laughter and relief in her voice. It faded as she continued. “I want you to plot a course from here to the center of the field that the shuttle can take without too bumpy a ride.”

The Navigator frowned, showing the top points of his teeth. “Are we taking the shuttle in?”

“I hope not,” the Captain replied, patting the Navigator lightly on the shoulder.

The Navigator glanced at the scene slowly playing out on the center bridge display. “Understood, Captain,” he acknowledged quietly. “I’ll get right on it.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

The Captain glanced toward the main bridge displays once more, turned away, and headed for the command deck.

Hope continued to monitor the medical telemetry, but saw no change in the readings. Lieutenant Jeffries respiration had stabilized. It remained high, but had not risen any further.

“One second burst,” the Chief Engineer’s voice came over the speaker. “Adjust your heading starboard three degrees. Confirm.”

Three confirmations overlapped, creating an odd-sounding echo over the communications channel.

“On my mark.” There was a momentary pause before the Chief Engineer spoke again. “Mark.”

A burst of noise like static washed across the speakers as the four team members fired their thrusters, followed by silence.

“Perfect,” the Chief Engineer said. “Stand by for surface contact in twelve seconds.”

Hope’s eyes turned toward the locator grid, seeing a tight quartet of signals moving toward an outline that represented the large fragment that was the team’s target. Her gaze moved toward the center bridge display. Sharp-edged shadows revealed the raw ridges of the shattered rock as the spotlights from the team member’s helmets shone on it.

“. . . eight . . . seven . . . six . . .”

The granular surface of the fragment became more visible as four beams converged on it.

“. . . five . . . four . . . three . . .”

The image was a wash of light, now too bright to make out the details.

“. . . two . . . one . . . contact!”

Discordant sound issued from the speakers. Hope deduced that it was loose pieces of the asteroid’s surface beneath the team’s boots.

“Emerald Flight,” the Chief Engineer said. “I don’t know if the Eagle has landed, but we have. All team members accounted for.”

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“They’re clear,” Hawkes reported.

Devereux nodded in acknowledgment. “Close the outer hatch.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Hawkes worked the airlock controls again. Red and yellow lights strobed, shifting finally to green. Hawkes’ eyes never left the status display until they all indicated that the airlock hatch was closed and locked. With that confirmation, he deactivated the airlock’s interior lights, plunging the chamber into darkness. He turned, ready to follow the Captain back to the bridge.

Devereux turned and began to head down the corridor.

“Hope,” she addressed the Medical Officer without pausing. “You’re with us. I want you to monitor their readings from the bridge.”

The Medical Officer hesitated for only the briefest moment, seemingly surprised by the request.

“Yes, Captain.”

She fell into line between the Captain and Hawkes. They were nearly back in the main corridor when the Captain paused, turning back toward the airlock.

“Commander?” she asked, seeming both bemused and concerned. “Are you joining us?”

Hawkes turned to see a slightly startled Elizabeth. From what he could tell, she had been staring out the adjacent view port. She looked away from them with awkward embarrassment.

“Sorry, Captain.”

She approached them quickly. Devereux waited until Elizabeth stood beside her, and then moved out into the quarter.

“Have a team prep the shuttle,” the Captain directed the First Officer. “I want us seconds from launch, if needed, in case we need to attempt a rescue.”

Elizabeth hesitated for an instant, surprised at the request, and then lifted her tablet and began logging the orders.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Hope,” Devereux continued, addressing the Medical Officer without turning. “Make sure they add any emergency equipment or supplies you might need.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Are you expecting trouble, Captain?” Elizabeth asked, also noting the Captain’s order to Hope.

“No,” Devereux replied confidently. “But I’m sure our Tactical Officer will agree that we should be prepared anyway.” Her eyes flashed toward Hawkes. A faint smile played along her lips. “Don’t you agree, Lieutenant?”

Hawkes studied the Captain for the length of a heartbeat before answering.

“Completely, Captain.”

Devereux’s smile was thin, but genuine. “I’m glad you approve.”

The four officers had reached the main hatch to the bridge. Hawkes moved forward and keyed in his access code. He then opened the hatch and held it open for the others to enter.

Devereux did not slow as she entered the bridge, moving to stand behind the helm station.

“Lieutenant,” she said, addressing Pyrafox. “Switch the external view to Screen Three. Put the locator grid on Screen One and the feed from the Chief’s camera on Screen Two.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The field of stars vanished from the first screen, appearing seconds later on the one to the far right. It was replaced by a three-dimensional representation of the EVA team’s progress across space. The center screen showed a scene similar to the one on the third screen. Its vantage point was far less steady as the Chief moved his head.

Devereux tilted her head toward the Tactical station, where Hawkes had resumed his customary post.

“I want an open comm channel with them at all times.”

“Yes, Captain.”

A faint electronic hum suddenly filled the air around them. The only discernible sound was that a team member’s respiration. From the heaviness of it, Hawkes surmised that it came from Jeffries.

Devereux nodded with approval.

“All right then,” she called out. “Let’s get back to work.”

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Rusty checked and double-checked that everyone’s safety lines were secure, including those attached to the equipment.

No one’s floating off into space on my watch . . .

With the slow speed that they would be traveling, along with redundant locator beacons, there was little risk of losing anyone for more than a short time. Still, he was not taking any chances with the microgravity pockets. The last thing he needed was one of the team members becoming an organic puddle on the surface of an asteroid.

“Check,” he called into the suit radio.

“Check,” came Ferahim crisp response.

Rusty started to reach for Jeffries when the older man’s voice sounded in his helmet. “Um . . . check.”

Rusty rolled his eyes, wondering if it was too late to leave the old geologist back on the ship.

“Directional sensors on,” he said instead, keeping his opinions to himself for the moment. “Triangulate on that large fragment at zero-zero-four. Mark.”

“Mark,” Ferahim reported after only a moment.

Rusty opened his mouth to prompt the geologist, but Jeffries responded an instant later.

“Mark.”

“Okay then,” Rusty announced. “Four-second thruster burst and then let’s find a nice spot for our picnic.” He paused, checking to make certain that his fingers were poised over the correct controls. He knew the suit by touch, but also knew that one does not take chances in open space.

“On my mark,” he told the others. “Three . . . two . . . one. Mark.”

He felt more than heard the tiny suit thrusters fire. Their surroundings moved past them just a little bit faster, gaining speed with each second of thrust.

“. . . two . . . one. Disengage!”

For a moment, Rusty felt as though he was drifting as the acceleration provided by the thrusters ceased. He checked the directional sensor on his wrist and saw that his vector was correct. It also showed three points in close alignment. He turned his head to verify that, and was encouraged to see that both Ferahim and Jeffries were right there with him.

Okay, he considered with some relief. This just might work.

“Okay,” he said peering ahead and then verifying what his eyes told him with the scanner. “Let’s head for that large fragment. It’s as good a place as any to set up camp.”

“Yes, sir,” Ferahim acknowledged promptly.

“Okay,” Jeffries responded in something that almost sounded like a unenthusiastic mumble.

Damned scientist types . . .

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Devereux gestured Hope aside, moving them toward a corner of the airlock corridor alcove.

“Have you determined anything new on the Chief’s . . . condition?”

Hope’s eyes moved for an instant toward the Rusty before turning back to Devereux.

“No.”

Devereux nodded slightly, breathing a brief sigh. It was pretty much as she had expected.

“Do you believe there’s any danger to him or the team?” She persisted. “He’s the best choice for this mission, but I’ll yank him right here and now if you think there might be an issue.”

Hope hesitated for a moment before answering. Devereux interpreted that as a worrisome sign. She began to turn toward the Rusty when Hope’s voice stopped her.

“No.”

Devereux turned back to face Hope. “You’re certain?”

There was less hesitation from her Medical Officer this time.

“No.”

Devereux frowned. This, too, she had expected, but had hoped she was wrong.

“Okay,” she said. “He’s going.” Her eyes turned toward the three spacesuit-clad figures as they made final preparations to enter the airlock. “But check the remote med systems on the suits,” she instructed Hope. “Double-check them. Make sure they’re working.”

Hope nodded almost imperceptibly. “Yes, Captain.”

“Ready, Captain,” Hawkes reported, poised ready at the airlock hatch controls.

“One moment, Lieutenant,” she told him. “Hope wants to check the med systems.”

“Of course, Captain.” Hawkes moved aside and waited patiently while Hope approached the three members of the team.

Devereux watched as Hope began with Ferahim, then to Jeffries, and finished with Rusty. She spent a little longer there than she had with the others.

I hope that’s because she’s really double-checking and not something else.

During the few minutes that Hope worked, there was no conversation among the group. Those who could watched her for a few moments before turning their attention somewhere else. It was not a particularly interesting procedure to observe.

Hope stepped away and addressed the Captain.

“Verified.”

Devereux nodded, feeling a small ripple of relief.

“You may proceed, Lieutenant,” she told Hawkes.

“Yes, Captain,” her Tactical Officer acknowledged.

Hawkes tapped the controls on the bulkhead panel. Several status lights glowed red now. The distinctive thunk of the locking mechanism disengaging could be heard. A number of the indicator lights changed color again and then the hatch slowly swung open.

Elizabeth and the Security officer, McAvoy, moved the equipment cases into the airlock and secured them with magnetic bands. That would prevent them from being blown from the airlock when the outer hatch was opened and the pressure equalized between the airlock’s interior and the absolute vacuum of space beyond.

There’s nothing worse than having to chase after your luggage, Devereux mused lightly. She knew this from personal experience early in her career.

Elizabeth and McAvoy left the airlock. Rusty, Jeffries, and Ferahim replaced them, moving inside well clear of the hatch. Hawkes looked toward Devereux, who nodded her assent to continue. The Tactical Officer worked the controls again and the hatch slid closed. Most of the status lights glowed green now.

“Depressuriziing,” Hawkes announced.

A faint alarm could be heard coming from inside the airlock. Yellow warning lights strobed, changing to red as the pressure dropped below survivable levels.

“We’re ready, Captain,” Hawkes reported.

Devereux walked over to the control panel and tapped the intercom. It was keyed to the general frequency of the suit radios.

“All set here, Chief,” she told him. “Ready when you are.”

“Leave it unlocked,” Rusty quipped. “I think I forgot my keys.” There was a long moment of silence as he positioned himself at the control panel inside. “Opening outer hatch.”

The lights flashed brighter. The outer hatch unlocked and swung slowly inward.

“Here we go . . .”

“Good hunting, Chief,” Devereux offered.

There was a faint hum of electronic static and then Rusty’s voice sounded over the speaker.

“I’ll bring you back something nice,” he said. “You too, Lizzie.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks brightened slightly. Devereux could not recall a time recently when Rusty had referred to her First Officer by that nickname. She chose to take it as a positive sign.

“I’ll settle for you and your team back here in one piece,” Devereux responded seriously, but she could not help but smile just a little.

“You betcha,” Rusty replied. He bent and began to unfasten the equipment.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Rusty waited with only mild impatience while Elizabeth tightened and locked the fastenings on his left boot. He grunted with approval and she started work on the right one. While he might have logged more hours in a suit than almost anyone else on the crew (and he doubted that claim, but was not about the challenge the Captain on it), that did not necessarily make him happy about it. The suit itself did not make him feel particularly claustrophobic. It was more that little more than a few millimeters of fabric and polyglass separated him from the life-sucking vacuum of space.

He felt a tag around his middle.

“Going for seconds on dessert again?” Elizabeth asked him, laughing quietly. Rusty sucked in a deep breath and held while she fastened the waist straps. The belt fastenings were snug, but not uncomfortably so. “That’s better.”

Elizabeth stepped back and visually inspected him. She frowned for a moment before nodding, apparently satisfied.

“Not very stylish,” she admitted.

“Hey!” Rusty protested, a little too loudly. “This suit was designed by the best designers in, well, China or some place.”

Elizabeth snickered, handing Rusty his helmet. “In case you forgot, the transparent part goes on the front.”

Rusty studied the helmet for a moment. “So much for them seeing my new haircut.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and stepped aside. Rusty joined Jeffries and Ferahim at the hatch. He had never met the older geologist personally. His immediate take was that the man was probably competent at his job . . . and about as interesting as the rocks that he studied. Ferahim he remembered. He had never worked directly with her that he could recall, but she was hard to miss when he passed her in the corridor. Seeing that her head was turned in his general direction, he gave her a quick wink. The only indication that she noticed it was that she looked away.

He smiled to himself, pleased. Love it when they play hard to get.

Jeffries was struggling with his helmet now. Ferahim strode over to assist him with a grace Rusty would have thought impossible in a space suit. The Security officer fitted the helmet over Jeffries’ head and checked the seal. She turned closed the fastenings and stepped back, gesturing for Hawkes to double-check her work. The older man held completely still the entire time.

Probably in shock from the attentions of a pretty girl, Rusty guessed with a smirk.

Rusty lifted his own helmet and dropped it into place with practiced ease. Wow, I really have done this far too many times. He began to close the fastenings when he felt a pair of hands assisting him through his gloves. Turning his head, his caught a glimpse of Elizabeth’s chestnut hair flash past his faceplate. A moment later, he heard a knock echo from the top.

“You’re good to go, Chief,” Elizabeth told him.

He gave her the traditional thumbs-up sign and then walked over to the hatch, stopping to stand beside Hawkes at the airlock control panel. Ferahim joined him a moment later. She was followed several seconds later by Jefferies who, Rusty thought, looked ready to trip over his own boots before he even made it through the hatch.

He is a space geologist, right?

For a moment, he considered asking Elizabeth aloud, but was not sure how far his voice might carry. He waited while the other Security officer and Devereux brought the last of the equipment closer to the hatchway. Elizabeth stepped out of the way and flashed him a quick smile before moving out of his view. For now reason he could explain, he found her small gesture reassuring.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

- 6 -

Elizabeth checked the fit and seals of the Chief’s space suit.

“Hold still!” she scolded him, laughing.

The Chief grumbled something unintelligible, but Elizabeth was certain the remark was uncomplimentary to her in some way. She just smiled. Regardless, the Chief Engineer stopped fidgeting for the most part. Elizabeth fastened the straps that run over his left shoulder, checked their tightness, and then started on the ones on the other side.

They were in the corridor alcove outside the interior hatchway to Airlock Three. A security crew member, whose name Elizabeth could not immediately remember, was doing the same for Ensign Ferahim, while Lieutenant Hawkes performed a final check on the ensign’s weapons. Elizabeth was struck once again by the ensign’s exotic beauty, understanding why she had she suffered from no lack of male attention. From what Elizabeth had heard, Ferahim had her share of female admirers as well. Those same rumors also implied that one or two of those had successfully shared the ensign’s bed.

Hawkes completed his inspection of Ferahim’s weaponry and returned them to her. With what Elizabeth thought was a carefully disguised expression of dismay, although she could not be certain of it, Hawkes went over to assist Lieutenant Jeffries.

At first, Elizabeth thought the stocky geologist might have brought a suit that was too small. She then realized that he simply looked incredibly awkward as he tried to reach all of the straps and fastenings by himself.

That’s why we have the buddy system, Elizabeth chided him silently. She then realized that it was really her duty, as First Officer, to see that those kinds of details were dealt with. She glanced over at Devereux, feeling a sharp pang of guilt in her stomach. The Captain did not seem to notice her gaze, focused on her conversation with Hope.

She tried to remember the last time she had been involved in an extra-vehicular mission of this type. EVA missions were not that uncommon when dealing with ship-wide maintenance and repairs, but those were generally managed by the Engineering teams. Elizabeth could not recall one of this type since she had become First Officer.

That’s no excuse, though, she admonished herself. The next time, she promised herself solemnly, I won’t forget it.

“All right,” she told the Chief. “Let me check your boots.” Elizabeth stole another quick glance in the Captain’s direction, but she remained deep in discussion with Hope.

“It’s amazing your feet fit in these things,” Elizabeth murmured, just loud enough for the Chief alone to hear.

The Chief grinned down at her. “Just be glad I washed them first.”

Elizabeth fought back most of a giggle and bent down to check the calf bindings.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hope began the scan, watching as the medical data appeared on the various displays.

Respiration: normal. Pulse rate: slightly accelerated. Heart rate: slightly accelerated.

Both of these readings, while higher than normal, fell within their acceptable ranges. Their cause could be attributed to several non-pathological factors. Human physiology, Hope had long ago learned, was astonishingly susceptible to changes based solely on psychological and emotional factors. It was entirely probable, she suspected, that the increase was due to nothing more the Lieutenant’s anticipation of his participation in the upcoming mission.

Blood pressure: High.

Both measurements were highlighted in red.

Hope waited while the rest of the scans completed. Other than for a minor trace mineral imbalance in the Lieutenant’s blood chemistry, all of the readings, except for blood pressure, satisfied the requirements for an EVA mission. Hope studied the data once more, comparing it once against the baseline readings in the Lieutenant’s medical records.

“I cannot approve.”

The Lieutenant turned his head to see the results for himself. His expression betrayed a flash of anger, and then went slack with disappointment.

“Look, Doc . . .” the Lieutenant said, almost pleading. “I know I haven’t been good about getting my medication . . . or watching what I eat . . .”

“I cannot approve,” Hope repeated, hoping to forestall a litany of excuses so that she could inform the First Officer that a different crew member must be selected for the upcoming mission.

“Please, Doc,” the Lieutenant went on. “I’m going to retire soon and taking a teaching position at the University. This could be my last chance to see something truly astonishing.”

Hope stared back at the Lieutenant. He fidgeted uncomfortably under her gaze, but did not look away. She was prepared to repeat her statement once more, but spent a moment considering his request. There was medication she could provide for him, that had only minimal side effects, which would bring his readings within acceptable levels. Doing so, however, would violate the intentions of the medical regulations.

Hope lifted her tablet and made the necessary notations.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Although she was not directly involved with the mission, Hope got to work immediately upon returning to the infirmary. Just because she was not part of the mission team did not mean that she did not have plenty to do to help prepare for it. She began by accessing the medical records for the known team members. The Chief Engineer’s was already updated on her tablet. Hope read the message from the Tactical Officer and added Ensign Ferahim’s.

Moving to one of her research stations, she downloaded a copy of the astronomical data from the debris field. She studied the radiation levels and strength of the magnetic and gravitational fields. None of them appeared to be particularly troublesome. Still, she asked the computer to run some simulations on how prolonged exposure might affect the crew members during their passage through it. It reported that the simulations would take several minutes to complete, so Hope turned to other tasks.

A message from Elizabeth informed her that Lieutenant Jeffries had been selected as the team’s geology specialist. Hope noted that his medical records, while current according to regulations, required updating before she could authorize his participation in the mission. She sent him a request to report to the infirmary for an updated assessment. His response was prompt, but, if Hope judged his tone correctly, grudging. She began to prepare Diagnostic Bed Two for his examination.

While she waited for his arrival, she looked over the results of the Chief Engineer’s brain scans again. She was no closer to an explanation for the increased activity in the Gamma band, nor did reviewing the data again provide her with any new insights. His behavior during the mission briefing had been slightly on the boisterous side, but far from being out of character. Hope wondered if there was time to run a new set of neurological scans before the Chief Engineer left on the mission.

Unusual that the Captain assigned him.

She had never fully comprehended the relationship between the Captain and the Chief Engineer. In all other things, the Captain was almost always predictable. Her attitude toward the Chief Engineer, though, often seemed irrational, given some of the risks that the Chief Engineer exposed the ship and crew to. There was not, as far as Hope had been able to determine, an emotional component that might imply a deeper relationship between the two. The Captain spent no more time with the Chief Engineer than she did any other member of the crew—even less, perhaps.

The main hatch opened and Lieutenant Jeffries entered. He was an older Human male. His thick hair contained patches of white, gray, and silver. He was slightly shorter the most human males, with a thick body that Hope knew contained a surprising amount of muscle despite its appearance.

“You wanted to see me, Doctor?”

“Yes.”

“I’m rather busy just right now, you know,” Jeffries protested, remaining just outside the main chamber of the infirmary. “I’ve got an expedition to get ready for.”

Hope stared at him, expressing none of her annoyance.

Why they always delay? It is inefficient and there is no discomfort to the procedure.

“Come.” She pointed toward Diagnostic Bed Two.

Jeffries hesitated, and then shuffled toward the designated bed with obvious reluctance.

“I don’t have to take off my clothes or nothing?”

“Remove any equipment.”

Jeffries patted down his uniform before removing a small case. “Just this.”

“Place there,” Hope directed him, pointing to an empty space on the counter.

Jeffries carefully laid the case on the countertop.

“Come,” Hope repeated, pointing again at the diagnostic bed.

Jeffries shuffled over to it and, with incredible slowness, lifted himself onto it. He sat there for a long moment and Hope thought she might need to instruct him again. Before she could, though, he lowered his body onto it.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

As Hawkes headed back toward the bridge, he consulted the tablet in his hand. He had the duty roster for his staff committed to memory, of course, but wanted to confirm that no changes had been made since he had last checked it. There were none. He then searched the crew profiles for members of his proficient with heavy armaments in zero-gravity environments. This last part was key. It was quite a different experience to manage heavy weapons in space than it was while under gravity.

He agreed with the Captain’s reasoning. The light mining and ore sampling equipment that the EVA team would be bringing along operated on very similar in principles to many of those heavy armaments. Having his Security officer there to assist with those operations would be a highly efficient means to keep the size of the EVA team to a minimum. Despite her relative youth, he continued to be increasingly impressed by the Captain’s unexpected competence.

Checking the results of his inquiry, he sent a message for Ensign Yvonne Ferahim to report to him on the bridge for a mission briefing. She had, he noted, spent nearly two years working with the asteroid miners in the belt between Mars and Jupiter before enlisting in the Star Force.

Reaching the bridge, Hawkes relieved Ensign Cortez at the Tactical station and begin to prepare a briefing packet for Ensign Ferahim. He glanced up a few moments later when the First Officer Banks entered the bridge. She did not look over at him, but went immediately over to confer with Lieutenant Gho.

As he prepared the report for Ensign Ferahim, Hawkes reviewed the data again. This was likely to be a comparatively low-risk mission. There were always danger when dealing with previously unknown astronomical phenomenon, but experience had shown him that the odds of something potentially fatal happening were far less than when he sent someone into a known combat situation.

The main hatch opened again. Ensign Ferahim entered and immediately approached the Tactical station. She stopped in front of it and saluted him smartly. Her silken black hair was pulled back into a tight knot, exposing her cocoa-hued features. Her eyes, the irises the color of roasted coffee, shone.

“Ensign Yvonne Ferahim, reporting as ordered, sir!”

Hawkes returned the salute, silently pleased with her adherence to proper protocol. Noting with approval that she had already exchanged her duty uniform for utility fatigues, he passed the tablet over the console to her. She accepted it without looking at it, tucking it sharply under her arm while she waited for any further orders.

“Review the mission briefing,” Hawkes instructed her. “Let me know if you have questions. I have authorized your access to the armory. My recommended personal armaments are listed as an appendix in your briefing. Report to Airlock Three aft at seventeen forty for EVA departure.”

“Yes, sir!”

Hawkes studied the Ensign for a moment, mentally verifying that he had covered everything with her that he needed to for now. Satisfied, he told her, “Dismissed.”

She proffered another salute, waited while Hawkes returned it, and then turned around and left the bridge. Hawkes watched her go, nodding once again with approval, and made a mental note to see when she might qualify for a promotion.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Devereux quickly surveyed the reactions of those seated around the table. While Hawke’s expression was, as usual, nearly unreadable, she saw concern in the autumn brown eyes behind the lenses of his spectacles. Rusty, on the other hand, appeared ready to jump right up, don a spacesuit, and head out to find whatever was waiting out there for them.

That worked out so well when we found that derelict Argolian vessel, she mused without rancor.

Hope’s large dark eyes revealed nothing of the Aerian’s thoughts. They simply watched her, waiting for her to continue. Elizabeth was clearly uneasy, and Devereux suppressed a slight smile. Extra-vehicular excursions were far, far down on her new First Officer’s list of favorite activities.

All part of the job, Devereux considered. The truth was, Elizabeth might be spared this time around, as she had not decided yet who would participate in this particular mission.

“Based on what we have so far,” Devereux said, “it might turn out that the best instruments we have for investigating this phenomenon are our eyes.”

“Doesn’t it always come to that?” Rusty quipped. “I’ve said so.”

Devereux shot him a quick glance. He countered with a quick grin, but quieted down.

“We would be putting ourselves at considerable risk, Captain,” Hawkes stated.

“We’re not going,” Devereux responded with an impish smile. She turned back to the rest of the group. “I want to keep the team small,” she told them, surveying their expressions again.

“I’m assuming for the moment that we’re dealing with some kind of astronomical phenomenon,” she went on. “But I don’t want to discount the possibility that there’s some of device in there causing these effects.”

She turned toward Rusty. “Chief,” she said, “I’d like you and one of your engineers on the team. You’ve probably logged more space hours than any of us, so you’ll be in charge.”

Devereux turned next to Elizabeth. “Who do we have who might be a specialist in space geology?”

Elizabeth consulted the tablet in front of her, running a quick search through the crew records. “We have two,” she reported a moment later. “Lane and Jeffries. I’ll see which is coming on duty next.”

Devereux nodded her approval and then turned toward Hawkes. “Lieutenant,” she said, “I want someone from your Security team accompanying them—preferably someone with heavy weapons experience so they can help out the others, if needed.”

“Yes, Captain,” Hawkes responded evenly. “I’ll see that someone is assigned immediately.”

Devereux offered him a quick smile. She leaned back and addressed the others again. “Have your team ready to depart in two hours,” she told them. “Make sure they review what material we have beforehand.”

Elizabeth and Rusty each nodded their understanding. Hawkes entered something onto his tablet. Hope, as usual, remained almost perfectly still.

“Any questions?”

Devereux surveyed the faces around the table. She saw nothing to indicate that anyone was holding back.

“All right, then,” she said. “Dismissed.”

She rose, but waited until the others had left the room before exiting it herself, musing silently that there were sometimes distinct disadvantages to being the Captain.

I hardly ever get to see the sights any more . . .

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Rusty studied the holographic images as they floated above the table. He had heard about the reports, but had not had a chance to look over the data himself. At first glance, he was unimpressed.

“Great . . .” he murmured, a little too loudly. “It looks like we stumbled on some giant’s rock garden.”

He opened his mouth to express another remark, and then stopped abruptly. Something in the slowly scrolling data caught his eye. Releasing a slow breath, he turned his gaze toward the visual images of the debris cloud.

“Microgravity displacement,” he mused aloud. “Now there’s something you don’t see too often.”

Devereux gave a slight smile. Rusty forced his expression to maintain its disinterested look. It took considerable effort.

“There’s something inside this field,” Devereux said, tapping a control on the table. A section of the debris cloud grew brighter. “Our sensors can’t penetrate it clearly enough for us to get a good look inside.”

“So we take the shuttle in,” Rusty proposed, almost without thinking. Without looking, he could sense Hawkes’ disapproving look. He ignored it.

Devereux shook her head. “I checked with Pyrafox,” she said. “He says he’s having enough trouble holding position with this ship, but can manage it because of its mass. He doesn’t think he can maneuver the shuttle safely through that field.”

Rusty made a rude noise. “We have other pilots.” He shot a brief glance in Hawkes’ direction.

The Tactical Officer regarded him dispassionately, disappointingly refusing to be baited.

“I have to concur with the Lieutenant’s caution,” Hawkes announced. “The navigational challenges of traversing such a field are not to be underestimated.”

“And you know this how?” Rusty retorted.

Hawkes’ eyebrows rose slightly above the rims of his glasses.

“It doesn’t matter,” Devereux interjected, giving Rusty a sharp look. “We’re not going to attempt it with the shuttle.”

Rusty settled back in his chair and then his eyes widened. “You’re not taking this ship in there, are you?”

Devereux stared at him with a controlled look, but one that clearly told him that he had insulted her intelligence.

“No,” she replied flatly. “By EVA.”

There was a long moment of silence before anyone spoke.

“Are you sure that’s wise, Captain?” Hawkes asked steadily. There was no hint of challenge in his voice.

“No,” Devereux answered with a slight smile before returning to her more serious demeanor. “But there’s something out there . . . and I want to find out what it is.”

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Lieutenant Hawkes walked in, regarding her silently for a moment.

“Commander.”

Elizabeth smiled at him, trying to be friendly without being too informal. “Lieutenant.”

Hawkes regarded her for another moment and then moved to take the seat on what would probably be Captain Devereux’s left. Elizabeth wondered again why he had never been promoted to First Officer.

He must have years—no, decades—more experience than I do.

It was not that she [disagreed] with her promotion, but she was certain that there must have been other officers like him who deserved it more than she did. Still, she could not imagine anyone else at the Tactical station, particularly during a combat situation. She could not decide whether it was each obvious competence or his utter calm under fire that she appreciated more.

It was interesting, she realized, that on planet-side missions, she felt safer with Rusty at her back. She was certain that either man would sacrifice themselves for her (and she hoped that it would never come to that). She had seen Hawkes take down men three times his mass, seemingly without effort, but there was something about Rusty’s presence that reassured her more.

Those amazingly broad shoulders probably don’t hurt either . . .

As if prompted by her thoughts, the Chief entered, making more noise than was probably necessary. He winked at Elizabeth and she relaxed. His mischievous grin looked much like it always did.

There’s something about his eyes, though . . .

The Chief seemed about to make a remark to Hawkes, but was distracted by Hope’s arrival.

“Hey, Doc!” he greeted her cheerfully. Leaning back in his chair, he announced to the others, “You all might be glad to hear that the Doc here now has irrefutable proof that I really do have a brain inside this thick head o’ mine.” His eyes narrowed mockingly at Hawkes. “Contrary to some people’s opinions.”

Hope stared at the Chief for a long moment, but said nothing. Still, her gaze seemed to deflate him.

But only a little, Elizabeth noticed.

Hope made her way around the table to the seat beside Elizabeth. She seated herself, maintaining a rigid posture that Elizabeth was sure would leave her back stiff for days. Elizabeth started to greet the doctor, but was interrupted by the Captain’s entrance.

“My apologies for being late,” she offered, making her way to the empty seat between Elizabeth and Hawkes. After seating herself, she turned briefly toward Elizabeth. “Commander,” she said, “can you please bring up the charts on the anomaly in debris field?”

“Yes, sir,” Elizabeth acknowledged quietly

She worked the controls for the room’s holographic display. A few moments later, the sensor data and visual representations of the debris field flickered into being above the table.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

- 5 -

Elizabeth arrived at the conference room ten minutes early and closed the hatch. She sat down, rested her head against the table, and breathed out a tired sigh.

So much for “light duty” . . .

It had taken her more than twenty minutes to receive acknowledgements out of everyone. The Chief, of course, had responded last. She had been tempted to go down to the Engineering Deck herself to ensure that he had received her message, but he had responded just a few moments before she had made up her mind to do so.

Acquiring the conference room had been no less of a challenge. The Emerald Flight held countless little spaces where two or three people could meet. However, it contained only two conference rooms that could seat more than five. It was almost impossible to get access to one without several days’ advance.

Unless you’re the Captain, Elizabeth mused with more than a touch of smugness. Rank does have its privileges . . .

Lieutenant Sheldon had been none too happy about having to re-schedule his astrophysics report, but Elizabeth suspected that most members of his team took it as a blessing. She had attended a few of Sheldon’s lectures, her interested drawn by their stated topics. Only one of those had she managed to sit all the way through until it was over. It was not just that she found the mathematics involved to be nearly impenetrable, but Sheldon’s presentation style alternated between a deadly monotone and an irritating high-pitched squawk.

“I’ll be speaking to the Captain about this,” Sheldon had threatened.

Elizabeth nodded, trying to keep a polite smile. She had no doubt that Sheldon would contact the Captain. The Captain, then, would tell Elizabeth to handle it. No matter how she sliced it, Elizabeth told herself, it was going to come back to her.

She heard the hatchway open and jerked her head up from the table, concerned that she might have dozed off during those brief few moments of quiet. Wiping at her mouth, she was relieved to find them dry. She glanced down at her tablet, relieved to discover that only slightly more than two minutes had passed.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hope puzzled over the results of the Chief Engineer’s medical scans. Except for the unexplained increase in his Gamma band activity, all of his other readings fell well within established ranges for humans. Some of them, she noted with some surprise, had even improved since his last complete examination. There was, as far as she could determine, no biochemical cause for the change in the Chief Engineer’s brain activity. Her research on the subject so far had produced frustratingly little new information.

The Captain will want a report.

She could produce one, of course, but it would be one that would yield more questions than answers. Hope possessed a deep understanding of the human nervous system and neurological biochemistry, but she had never seen readings like these before. The most relevant analogy were the examinations conducted of suspected Psi-actives, but even those tests had yielded completely different results than what she had received from the Chief Engineer.

The main hatch opened. Hope knew, without turning, that the Captain had entered. She heard the familiar cadence of the Captain’s footsteps as she approached. That was, of course, not her only clue to the Captain’s presence.

“Hope?”

Hope turned to face the Captain. “Captain.”

The Captain glanced over at the empty diagnostic beds and then took a closer look around the infirmary.

“Where’s the Chief?”

“He is gone.”

The Captain frown deepened and she examined the infirmary again.

“You released him?”

Hope hesitated for a moment. The Captain was displeased.

“Yes.”

The Captain stared hard at Hope. Her words came out sharp and clipped.

“May I ask why?”

“The data,” Hope said. “I do not understand.”

The Captain frowned thoughtfully and then shook her head slightly. “What do you mean?”

Hope stared at the Captain for a moment longer and then gestured toward the diagnostic equipment still connected to Bed Four.

“Come.”

The Captain followed her to the diagnostic bed. Hope activated one of the displays, showing the results of the neurological scans. The Captain studied the screen carefully for several moments before turning back to Hope.

“I don’t understand what I’m seeing here.”

Hope tapped a control and one of the waveforms displayed on the chart grew brighter.

“Gamma.”

The Captain studied the image again and then shook her head again. “I’m still not seeing it,” she said, leaning back slightly. “Is it something dangerous?”

Hope stared silently.

“Is it?”

“I do not know.”

The Captain’s expression held a mixture of astonishment and concern.

“And you released him?”

“Yes,” Hope answered flatly. “Security went too.”

The Captain visibly relaxed. She studied the diagnostic display again.

“But you don’t know what this means?”

“No.”

“Could it explain his strange behavior?”

“I do not know.”

The Captain released a long, slow breath.

“What do you know?”

Hope stared back at the Captain for a moment before answering.

“Increased Gamma band activity.”

The Captain breathed deeply.

“All right,” she said, stepping back from the display. “Let me know when you do find something. In the meantime, I’ll have Security keep an eye on him.”

“Yes.”

The Captain laughed softly. “I’m glad you approve.”

The chime from the communication console sounded. The Captain’s smile grew a little bit more.

“That’ll be Elizabeth letting you know about the briefing.” The Captain’s expression became more serious. “See what you can find out before then.”

“Yes.”

The Captain frowned, looking at the diagnostic display and then back at Hope. She appeared ready to speak, but seemed to change her mind. Turning away, she strode purposefully toward the main hatch.

Hope watched the Captain leave, feeling the familiar sense of emptiness as she departed. She turned away from the hatchway and studied the diagnostic display once more. Again, it failed to reveal the answers she needed.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“Can you give me a visual?” Devereux asked.

“I think so, Captain,” Gho replied. “Let me see what I can do.”

“Center screen.”

The image of the star field displayed on the center display, now littered with jagged chunks of rock, flickered, turned gray, and then resolved into a new view. A soft gray haze now muted the definition of objects visible on the screen. It reminded Devereux of the ground fogs she would see during early morning rugby practice in the spring.

Except there’s no fog like that in space . . .

“Can you magnify that?”

Gho tapped some controls and the image shifted again. It did not help much. Some of the objects were larger now, but not much clearer.

“Any idea what’s causing that?” Devereux asked.

Gho consulted her console quickly before answering. “It’s just dust, sir.”

“What’s holding it there?” Elizabeth asked.

“Good question,” Devereux replied, nodding slowly. “It should have dispersed long ago.”

“It might be the microgravity pockets,” Gho suggested. “They might be holding it in place.”

Devereux nodded again. “That would explain why it’s localized there and there almost none at all in the outer sections of the debris field.”

The deck of the ship seemed to sway beneath her feet slightly. She glanced down and then over at the helm station, seeing Pyrafox working furiously at his console.

“Something wrong, Lieutenant?”

Pyrafox’s hands slowed. He paused a moment, both his hands poised ready over the helm controls. After a few seconds passed, he began to relax, breathing out a hoarse sigh. It reminded Devereux of the irritated growl from a long-haired Chihuahua one of her secondary school friends had owned.

“Sorry about that, Captain,” he remarked without turning. His gaze remained fixed on the navigational displays. “Just a small issue with the gravity pockets.” He reached down and tapped a control, although with less urgency, Devereux was relieved to note, than before. “I think the computer’s got most of them mapped out now.”

“Is there any danger to the ship?”

Her question was directed to anyone who had information, but it was Pyrafox who answered her.

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “They’re more like potholes in a dirt road than anything really dangerous.”

Devereux tried to map that analogy to space navigation in her mind. She did not find herself particularly comforted by the imagery that arose.

“Bring us to a stop, Lieutenant,” Devereux ordered. “I don’t want us any closer until we have a better idea of the effects.”

“Aye, Captain,” Pyrafox responded crisply. Something in his posture expressed his disappointment at no longer being allowed to meet the challenge of their course ahead. “Answering full stop.”

The images on the main bridge displays became stationery, but not before the deck rolled one more time underneath Devereux’s boots. She opened her mouth, but Pyrafox interrupted her before she could speak.

“Sorry, Captain.” He sounded genuinely apologetic. “One last pothole.”

“Better check the tires,” Devereux chuckled.

Behind her, Elizabeth snickered.

“Yes, Captain,” Pyrafox replied, making no effort to hide the laughter in his own voice.

Devereux’s expression grew serious once more. She studied the data still being flashed onto the third screen. So far, even at this closer distance, the sensors had revealed little new information.

“Commander,” she called out to Elizabeth without turning. “Have all stations continue to collect data for now. Assemble the senior staff for a briefing in one hour.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“You have the bridge, Commander,” Devereux told her. “I’ll be in the infirmary.”

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hawkes studied the feed from the Science station. He understood most of the data, at least enough to determine that there appeared to be no immediate threat from the debris within weapons range of the ship. The patch of obscure readings, toward which the Captain had now directed their course, troubled him. During all of his years of combat experience, he had witnessed a variety of techniques used to scramble sensor feedback. This was unlike any he had seen. He took some small comfort that the area affected could not mask any particularly large vessels.

We might end up being outgunned, but we’re not likely to be outnumbered.

Based on what they had discovered so far, he had no sound reason to bring the ship’s weapons systems online. He had hoped that Captain might at least place the crew on stand by alert status, but she had so far failed to do so. She seemed to feel comfortable with the risk.

He studied the details of the sensor logs for some the larger fragments they had located, examining them signs that might indicate a masked vessel or hidden weapons platform. So far, the readings had indicated exactly what Lieutenant Gho had reported: rock fragments and conventional ores. The lack of active energy signatures of any kind told him that whatever force had created these fragments had done so a long ago.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Gho called out hesitantly. “We’re getting some new readings.”

Hawkes looked up from his station as Gho tapped out commands on her console.

“It’s not much,” she reported as the data on the third bridge display changed, “but it’s something.”

Devereux stared at the screen for several long moments before shaking her head slowly. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she admitted, turning toward Hawkes.

“Nor have I, Captain,” Hawkes reported. “I can find no matches for it in the Tactical database.”

“There’s nothing in the cosmological records either,” Gho reported. “We may have encountered a new astronomical phenomenon.”

“You just might get yourself into the record books yet, Lieutenant,” Devereux smiled at the Science officer.

Although Gho tried to mask it in her expression, Hawkes could tell that the young officer was pleased by prospect.

“It looks like a gravitational disturbance,” Elizabeth offered, looking at the data display.

“That small?” Devereux asked. “And erratic?”

Elizabeth’s expression gave the visual equivalent of a shrug. Her eyes turned toward Gho.

“It could be pockets of microgravity,” she hypothesized, “caused by heavy elements in the ore. If they’re highly radioactive as well, that would explain the trouble our sensors are having with them.”

Devereux nodded. Hawkes agreed that it was a reasonable explanation, but by no means the only one.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Some of it made sense to Devereux; much of it did not. She recognized the spectroscopic and metallurgical analyses, even if she did not understand what some of the details meant.

“It looks the typical ores and elements you’d expected to see from a moon or asteroid,” she remarked.

Gho nodded in agreement. Devereux felt tiny swell of pride that she had interpreted the data correctly. Her training and experience leaned more heavily on the tactical side. The hard sciences were not her strong suit.

“The configuration is strange, though,” Gho said, highlighting the boundaries of the debris field on the screen. “There’s a lot more dust than you’d expect and not as much mass still in larger chunks.”

“Debris from a comet then?”

Gho studied the results again. “I don’t think so, Captain. The mass and elements don’t match any comets we’ve ever recorded. Although there are organic components.”

That got Devereux’s attention. Pyrafox’s ears perked up as well.

“Organic?”

Gho nodded, appearing unsurprised. “Organic compounds have been found on a number of comets,” she replied. “Nothing complex, though,” she explained. “Mostly simple hydrocarbons.”

Devereux continued to study the image in silence, watching as its resolution slowly improved. Behind her, Gho took deep breath that sounded a lot like an exasperated sigh.

“What’s wrong, Lieutenant?” Devereux asked, turning to face the young Science officer.

“I’m still having trouble getting clear readings from one section of the debris field,” she answered. She tapped controls on her console and the previous highlighting on the main screen was replaced by a new one position toward the upper right quadrant of the field.

“What’s there?” Devereux asked.

“I don’t know,” Gho replied, shaking her head. “There’s something scrambling the sensors in that section of the cloud. We can’t get a clear reading.”

“What would do that?” Devereux asked. “Do the sensors need calibrated?”

Gho tapped some controls and intently studied one of her console displays for a moment. “The sensors seem fine,” she reported. “And there’s any number of things that might confuse the sensors.”

Devereux nodded at that.

I know a few tricks for doing that myself. Almost none of them, though, exist without artificial means.

She studied the image on the screen again, paying particular attention to the area that Gho had highlighted. She found the data associated with that region, but saw nothing that caught her eye as unusual—other than that it was annoying incomplete.

“Let’s take a closer look,” she announced quietly. “Helm,” she called to Pyrafox. “Slow our approach to one-quarter. Head toward the patch there on the outer edge.”

“Aye, Captain,” Pyrafox acknowledged quickly. “Slowing to one-quarter. Adjusting course.”

Devereux watched the navigational display as their velocity and heading changed. She turned back toward the Science station.

“Anything new yet?”

Gho studied her displays for a moment before shaking her head. “Not yet, sir” she replied, sounding disappointed. “I think we’re going to have to get a lot closer before we can punch through the interference.”

Devereux nodded her understanding. Although it was the prudent thing to do, decreasing their speed meant that it was going to a bit longer to get that much nearer.

She glanced toward the Tactical station. Hawkes worked intently at his console and she wondered what he was so focused on. There was absolutely nothing for him to fire at or defend them from except for some drifting chunks of rock.

He’s probably expecting to discover at any moment that one of those chunks is a disguised enemy vessel.

Devereux turned her attention back to the data display, seeing once again the highlighted area of the debris cloud.

If I was going to hide a ship in there, she considered. That’s where I’d do it. Force them to move in. Lure them nice and close.

For a moment, she considered ordering Hawkes to place the ship on a standby alert.

It’d just be a distraction, she decided. And so far we’ve found nothing but rocks out here. She glanced over at Hawkes again. He’ll be the first to tell me if he sees anything even remotely suspicious.

Devereux allowed herself to relax and went back to studying the data displays.