Alien Shore Chapter One
GRID Traveler Trinity: Alien Shores
Author: J Carrell Jones
Table of Content
Chapter 1
Stay! Stay! You saucy sailor boy, Do not sail afar; I love you and will marry you, you silly Jack Tar. ‘Twas but to tease I answered so, I thought you could guess that when a maiden answers no she always means yes.
(From Saucy Sailor Boy. Circa. 18th century, Earth.)
Chapter 1
Sean Blakemore sat at a table in Starboard’s Bow – the enlisted officer’s mess hall. He sat by a view port eating Cookie’s latest creation of Skilly. It was a little bit of everything. Some meats, vegetables, different splashes of sauces – red, green, hot, sweet, herbs, spices, anything and everything in the galley. Sean marveled at the delicious combination of flavors and tastes. Cookie out did himself, he always did. Sean would never admit it in open public, of course. Mr. Grant, the Officer’s Watch main cook, would be highly offended. For the officers on board Johnson, they had to endure Grant’s slightly above mediocre abilities. GRID rules specifically prohibited enlisted officers from cooking meals for commissioned officers in a sanctioned Officer Mess facility. Sean toyed with the idea of making Cookie a Warrant Officer and transferring him to Officer’s Watch, but he was certain Johnson’s crew would riot. So he and some of the other officers satisfied their cravings for good cooking with the occasional visit to Starboard’s Bow – under the guise of “getting” a feel for how the Johnson was running.
It was on an occasion not too different than this moment Sean remembered talking to Dawn. He saw her, his first officer, looking out a view port. It was just before the ‘crazy-time.’ A term Sean accepted for his time spent on Necron – the planet of aliens, fantastic technology and Magick! He looked out and saw a star streak by. He used a large spoon to sip juice from his Skilly and chuckled to himself. All hands in the mess hall knew to ignore the Captain’s bursts, as they called it. Suddenly out of nowhere the Captain would laugh and those around him would get swept up in the infectious act and laugh too. Of course, only the Captain would know the reason for his bursts. Sean asked Dawn about gossip on the ship and Dawn told him she had a juicy one. Straight face she said that he was “whipped three sides to Sunday.” Meaning that Dr. Loggar had effectively gained control of his little head, which controlled his thinking head. Sean had a burst.
The last time Dawn caught him off guard was when she told him that she was a Most High follower and that close to a third of the ship’s complement were as well. The Johnson held three thousand personnel and one thousand followed Wicca! Sean took a mouthful of Skilly and swallowed. He continued to look out the view port and marveled at the turn of events that got him his long withheld captaincy, the discovery of the ‘sleeping’ Necronians, the living statues, and his . . .
His thoughts were interrupted by the intercom. “Captain to Top Deck, emergency message from GRID Command. Decryption is imminent.
Sean hurried through four more mouthfuls of Skilly and rushed to Top Deck. He thanked Cookie for another good meal. Cookie beamed brightly and hummed ‘The Saucy Sailor Boy’ and went about his business.
Sean entered Top Deck. He listened to the chatter of beeps, hushed talk, keyboard clicking, background hums and the like. He walked over to the Command chair and sat down. Dawn was in the XO chair. Sean asked “Well, Dawn, anything good?”
Dawn looked up from her CRT and said, message from GRID Command is 93% decoded. We have vid and text.”
“Who’s it from?”
Dawn tapped on her CRT and after a second replied, “Dr. Loggar.”
Sean frowned. He had just spoken with Kathy a few hours before. She said that the research on Necron had taken an exponential leap. Adruqu was communicating with them on a regular basis via terminal and that she had provided years’ worth of data, particularly locations of seeded planets, charts, medical data, everything and anything. It was beyond fantastic. So, why had she sent him a special communiqué byway of GRID Command? “Dawn?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Authenticate upon full decryption.”
“Already in progress, Captain.”
“How long will it take?”
“About 30 minutes, give or take a dozen seconds.”
“I’ll be in the conference room, continue with the conn.”
“Aye, Sir.”
Sean got up and walked through the sliding conference room door. He walked over to the table and sat in the main chair. He swiveled around to watch the stars streak by. The conference room desk was made of pressed Oak wood. All of GRID Command used Oak wood for what they considered tables of importance. It was vanity, but no one stopped to question why Oak and not some other wood. It was something established over three centuries ago.
Then, “Captain?” It was Dawn’s voice.
“Yes, Dawn?”
“Dr. Loggar on channel six, standard encryption.”
“Thanks.” Sean said, and pushed a button marked ‘channel six.’
Loggar’s image pixilated to a full picture. Her brown hair was tied back into a ponytail. A small strand of hair was loose between both eyes. Her eyes brightened when she saw Sean.
Sean smiled and said, “Hey Kathy, two calls in one day?”
Loggar blew Sean a kiss and said, “This one is more business than pleasure. You get my gift?”
Sean nodded. “Yeah, received it not too long ago. I haven’t had a chance to open it yet. I promise I’ll look at it very soon. It got me curious, though.” He left it at that and let the silence hang in the air a moment.
Loggar slowly nodded, she frowned. “You should have received it a few hours ago. Probably nothing wrong.” She thought for a second. “I know you will love it, but the main reason I called is that I need you to come pick me up. It’s been cleared through the proper channels – you should be getting a new set of orders soon.”
Sean’s smile broadened. Any chance to see his beloved was always welcomed. “Good, anything you can tell me now?”
Loggar giggled, “That’s what the gift is for, Sean. I’ll leave you to look at it, okay?”
Sean nodded, “Okay. I’ll get back to you when I have a time of arrival.”
Loggar leaned closer to the screen and she placed her hands as if she were holding Sean’s face. She kissed the screen.
Sean smiled and touched the screen as if he were touching her cheek. It was their custom for good-bye.
The screen went blank.
Sean got up from the table and walked out to Top Deck.
Dawn got up from the XO chair and handed Sean a hardcopy. “GRID Command, Sir.”
Sean took the hardcopy and read it. Sure enough, it was new orders. The Johnson was going to Necron – and so was the Webster. Sean sighed heavily. “Dawn?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Course laid in? ETA?”
“Twenty-four hours, ten minutes. The Webster is already en route. Webster will be there a good eight hours ahead of us.”
Sean thought for a moment. The Webster already en route! That spoke volumes. That would mean that Robin got orders before he received his or GC delayed his orders, which could mean political jockeying – some folks still had a bad taste in their mouths from his quick promotion and the Quail apology, or Loggar requested Robin first and then as a second thought requested Sean. Sean tossed that last thought out. It had to be some sort of in-house posturing. He would talk to Kathy about it later. When they were alone.
Dawn watched the play of emotions on Sean’s face. She, too, thought much like Sean did. GRID Command was playing games or Loggar was. She weighted both as fifty-fifty.
“Dawn, what would it take to get us there in twelve hours?”
Dawn smiled. She had anticipated Sean’s question. “Running the engines hot at one-one-zero percent, bypassing GRID points and making some scary long jumps.”
Sean walked over to his chair and sat. He tapped on his CRT. “Engineering?”
Mr. Curtis “Pulse” Landtrap had been head engineer of the Johnson for two decades. It was whispered that if Pulse said it couldn’t happen then God himself had to acknowledge it and move on. Pulse got the word from the XO that Captain was going to run the Johnson hot, real hot – twelve hours hot. Damn it was good to finally have a “Captain” sitting in the chair. Pulse had nothing against Blakemore; it was just a real mean slap in the face to a fine ship like Johnson to be commanded by rank less than “Captain.” Pulse broke out the drinks when he heard about the promotion. Blakemore was a fine leader. He deserved nothing less than Commodore, really. Pulse had time and Goddess wishing, he and the Johnson would see it.
Top Deck was calling; it broke him out of a wondering trance. Pulse walked over to his desk and tapped on his CRT. “Yes, Captain.” Damn that felt good!
Sean’s image appeared in the tiny view screen. “Pulse, the Johnson is going to be running hot for about twelve hours.”
Pulse nodded, “Engines prepped, sir. We got the call earlier; the Johnson is ready to go. Just give the word.”
Sean smiled, “Very good, Top Deck out.”
Pulse smiled to himself. The Captain was pleased. He looked up from his desk. Engineer was divided into five sections: Main part – dead center of the Johnson surrounded by ten meters solid alloy and three layers of shield screens, Port and Starboard Bow sections, Port and Starboard stern. His desk placed him in the center of Main part. He could see all bow and stern areas from his location. He tapped on his CRT to open up Engineering comm. “Now hear this, Johnson is gonna run hot. Man stations and look lively. Repeat, we are gonna run hot. Engines at one-one-zero percent.” He clicked off.
Doctor Karen Collins, Chief Medical Officer, had received word from Dawn. The Captain was going to do War jumps and to expect incoming. Foster alerted her staff and gave them their instructions. She had thirty doctors, ten per eight-hour shift. Though the ship ran on old six four-hour shifts, she kept her staff on the three eight-hour schedules. She called the entire medical staff to duty. Collins was expecting the worst. War jumps meant nothing less.
Sean tapped on his CRT. “All hands, this is the Captain. Prepare for War jump, prepare for War jump. All personnel not called to duty station stay in quarters and Trank deeply. This is not a drill. Johnson will be driving for twelve hours. I repeat the Johnson will be running hot. One bell to jump. Captain out.” Sean tapped on his CRT again. He typed out a quick message to Loggar and told her to expect him in twelve hours. He typed out a general reply message to GRID Command and told them he would reach Necron in the expected twenty-four hours planned. He had a hunch that GRID Command was going through some sort of positioning change. Robin, of course, would get the information about the Johnson arriving eight hours after Webster and would proceed normally. His gut feeling told him Robin could be playing both sides. Though they departed on neutral terms, there were a few moments for embarrassment. Robin froze during a crisis and Sean was pretty sure it nagged at her ego. He couldn’t possibly know what she was thinking these days. After he asked, actually told her to leave his ship, communication was spotted – and only from text communique.
Top Deck, Engineering and Medical were abuzz with activity. The Last time Johnson had done War Jumps was during the SI wars – officially ended, but unofficially still on. Though the Johnson is one of the oldest ships in GRID Command she is one of the fastest. The newer ships jumped on shorter GRID waves – higher frequency, thus using less energy to travel further. Johnson was almost all raw-power. It was meant to be a multi-purpose ship with four different main batteries – newer ships, like the Webster had either one or maybe two types of main firepower, and its missions were for a vessel that was good at quick strikes, escort, stealth, and absolute defense. Johnson, being one of a few left, was the last of the “all-weather” ships. Its main engines are from the era that GRID waves are best traveled on long sinuous waves. The disadvantage of traveling on long GRID waves was its effect on the crew. The shorter, higher frequency waves of the newer ships allowed personnel to function as if under almost normal conditions. GRID travel sometimes affected the human nervous system. Sometimes crew had to be placed under sedation during prolonged travel. The Johnson was going to use a war maneuver that basically made the entire crew nauseous, in short useless.
Sean waited in his chair and counted off the minutes. Top Deck was in overdrive. He checked the time, a minute to go. He tapped on his CRT and said, “Johnson, do you hear me?”
A male voice answered. “Yes, Captain Blakemore, I do.”
“You know what we are about to do?”
“Yes, Captain, I do. We are going to do a War jump for twelve hours, seven minutes and 36 seconds.”
“Yes, Johnson. You have the coordinates?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“You have any questions?”
“No Captain. I understand what I am supposed to do. War jump will start in twenty seconds.”
“Very good Johnson, you are a good ship.”
Sean took a hypo-spray from his shirt pocket and pressed the head to his deltoid muscle. He felt the rush of sedative spread from his shoulder to the rest of his body. He placed the spent hypo back in his pocket and tapped on his CRT. “All hands, all hands. Ten seconds to jump. Repeat, ten seconds to jump. Johnson is aware and in control. Trank up now, Captain out.” He looked over to Dawn. “Just like old times, huh?”
Dawn placed her spent hypo in her shirt pocket. “Yeah, old-times. Did I ever tell you I hated War jumps?”
Sean replied, “Did I ever disagree with you?”
One bell sounded and the Long jump began. Sean winked out of consciousness and dreamt – nothing.