Final Duty Read online

  Final Duty

  The Speculative FictionNovella

  By Kyle Pratt

  Copyright © 2013 Kyle Pratt

  All Rights Reserved

  Edition 2.9 – August 2014

  Editor: Barbara Blakey

  Cover design and cover art by Micah Hansen

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, especially those on other planets, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Final Duty

  Also by the author

  About the author

  Final Duty

  Twenty years after the death of her father during the Battle of Altair, Lieutenant Amy Palmer returns to the system as an officer aboard the reconnaissance ship Mirage. Almost immediately disaster strikes and Amy, along with the crew of the Mirage, must face the possibility of performing their final duties. Final Duty is a novella set in the same universe as the other two stories in this anthology.

  I wrote most of it while serving on the U.S.S. Missouri (BB-63) during the Gulf War. I’m certain writing this story while living in the confined grayness of a navy ship during battle gave it an added sense of realism. While writing it I tried to take current military procedures and imagine them in a future spacefaring navy. At nearly 16,000 words, Final Duty is the longest story in this collection.

  Thrown from her bunk, Lieutenant Amy Palmer awoke as she hit the deck and rolled across the small compartment. Coming to a sudden stop against the bulkhead she tried to understand what happened. An explosion?

  With a single emergency light to guide her, she jumped up only to hear the gravity alarm sound.

  A computer voice announced, “Gravity failure all decks.”

  Amy shot towards the overhead with barely time to put her arms out and break her upward flight. Many of her belongings, now weightless, danced in the air, the pillow from the bunk, pens, papers, and a framed picture of her father from the nightstand.

  Are we under attack? Her heart raced. Why hasn’t general quarters been called?

  Releasing her grip on the overhead conduit she gently pushed off, grabbed her pants and shoes as they drifted by and, spinning like an ice skater, dressed in midair.

  She pulled the flashlight from her belt and floated out the cabin door into a passageway, illuminated only by emergency lights. Bracing her feet against the bulkhead she pulled her cabin door shut to trap her floating personal effects inside. Pushing away, like a swimmer off the side of a pool she glided along the corridor.

  “Lieutenant, do you know what happened?” a crewman asked.

  “No, but go to your battle station,” she ordered as she slid past in midair.

  Other crewmembers floated into the area.

  “Go to your battle stations,” she commanded.

  Reaching the main passageway, she turned, her long auburn hair streaming in front of her eyes and, she was sure, in all other directions. Brushing it back with her hands, she shoved off again with her legs. As she raced down the passageway like a bullet, the alarm sounded again.

  “Gravity is being restored on all decks,” the computer advised.

  As a safety precaution, gravity was restored slowly. She arched her back up, stalled and touched down on the deck. Weighing mere grams, she was careful not to leap off the deck as she hurried down the passageway her weight increased with each step.

  “General quarters, general quarters! All hands man your battle stations!”

  It was almost a relief to hear the expected announcement and the klaxon.

  As she stepped onto the bridge, she heard a technician inform the Captain, “Gravity has been restored to normal.”

  Captain Harris nodded.

  Amy paused a second to scan the holographic projection at the far end of the bridge. It showed the Altair star and several planets in the system but no enemy ships. Moving to the side, she passed the unmanned engineering station and took up her position as environmental systems officer.

  Normally the intelligence officer, Lieutenant Marcus Ralston, would be alongside her, but she didn’t see him. Only after ensuring all her systems were functioning and her people were alive and on station did she again look around the bridge. She found Marcus bent over data screens with the sensor tech, his uniform dripping wet, his brown hair a mess. What happened to him?

  “Brad! What’s the situation down there?” the Captain called over the commlink to the executive officer.

  The image of a compartment lit only by emergency lights appeared on various vid screens. “I’m in power relay room one, sir. Are we under attack?”

  “No,” Captain Harris said, but then turned to Marcus.

  Marcus shook his head. “It was a mine.”

  “No. We don’t see any Hex ships in the area. How much damage did we suffer?”

  “Explosive decompression destroyed the fusion control room. Commander Chou and Connors are dead, along with the techs.

  Amy shook her head slowly in disbelief. Both engineering officers, along with the technicians in the control—all of them, sucked out of the ship by the explosion. They died quickly in the vacuum of space, but it would have been in agony.

  The Executive Officer continued. “The reactor appears to have done a controlled shutdown.”

  “Yes, we’re on batteries. Can you get out of there?” The captain asked.

  “No sir, the airtight doors are sealed. But I can hear the damage control team working on the other side of the bulkhead.”

  Moments later everyone on the bridge watched over the video link as the damage control team opened the airtight door, entered and sealed it behind them. Brad quickly advised them the compartment was venting atmosphere and they went to find the leak.

  “Can you get into the fusion control room?” Captain Harris asked over the commlink. “The Bias drive is down and we may be in a minefield.”

  “No sir, the hole is way too big for the automatic sealing system but,” he said walking over to the hatch, “I can see into there through the portal. Captain,” he paused, there isn’t much left of the control…” The video went black. Over the commlink came a short electronic whining sound, then silence.

  “Captain, power relay room one has suffered explosive decompression,” the damage control officer reported solemnly. “They’re gone.”

  Amy shuddered. The executive officer was dead and everyone on the damage control team. All of them hurtled into the vacuum of space.

  “Understood,” the captain said closing his eyes. Slowly he said, “Secure that part of the ship.”

  “Yes sir,” the damage control officer replied. Pressing his commlink he dispatched a new team to the stricken portion of the ship.

  As Amy scanned the now somber bridge, she noticed Marcus wipe his brow with his still moist sleeve. Looking back over her systems, she concluded all were still functioning normally, but the ship could only remain on battery power for an hour.

  “Two mines on approach vectors.” Marcus called out.

  “Damn,” Captain Harris cursed softly. “Rig for stealth.”

  “Aye sir.” Over the commlink, the Petty Officer of the Watch announced, “Rig for Stealth.”

  Amy pressed her commlink and told technicians to retr
act the radiators dissipating heat from the ship into space. She adjusted cooling systems so some heat would radiate into unoccupied compartments but gradually the ship would become sweltering.

  “Engineering,” the Captain called over the commlink, “I need the backup reactor online!”

  “Both mines have weapons lock and are accelerating on approach vectors,” Marcus called out.

  “We’re bringing power up now,” the engineering chief replied.

  “Evasive maneuvers—maximum thrust,” the captain ordered. “Can we get a lock on them yet?”

  “Yes sir, we’re attempting…”

  “Do it and fire!”

  “Brace for impact,” Marcus announced.

  “Lock,” The fire control officer shouted. “And firing.”

  Two fireballs lit up the holo projection on the bridge.

  As the light faded everyone seemed to breathe in unison. The immediate threat was gone. Amy watched as Marcus worked with his sensor tech to locate any other threats in the area.

  After several minutes he stood and said, “There are no mines in our immediate vicinity, but stealth mines are hard to detect at….”

  “At distances greater than a few hundred kilometers.” Captain Harris nodded and looked at the clock on the bridge.

  It was nearly an hour before the captain said, “Secure from general quarters. Set condition three.” He picked up his pad and walked from the bridge leaving the duty officer in charge.

  Thankful they had returned to the normal wartime cruising conditions, Amy reset the cooling systems to dissipate heat into space. She then turned over her duties to the petty officer on watch.

  Looking around the bridge she noticed several people, including Marcus, had already left. She briefed the duty technician and went to the wardroom one deck below. At one end of the compartment were two coffee pots one always hot. The captain was pouring himself a cup while reading from his pad. When he finished he turned, and still reading, walked towards Amy.

  Amy would normally greet the captain in such situations, but today she didn’t know what to say. It hadn’t been a good morning; eleven people had died, the ship was badly damaged and they were all stuck in the Altair system.

  He looked up. His smile seemed tense and forced. She tried to smile back as they passed.

  * * *

  Captain Harris left the wardroom alone, but around him were nearly two hundred people who would soon learn they were on a dying ship.

  After returning to his cabin, he sat at his desk and tried to read the various reports. He reached up and turned down the volume on each of the monitors installed in the bulkhead above his desk. They allowed him to observe the main workspaces of the ship, but at times like this, he found them to be a distraction.

  He looked at the report from the engineering chief. The fusion control room was beyond repair and there wasn’t enough power without it to activate the Bias Drive.

  He rubbed his eyes, set the papers aside and casually picked up the book, The Philosophy of War, a textbook from his days at the academy, half buried under the papers on his desk. He opened to his bookmark and began to read. Almost immediately he came to a passage where the author quoted Sun Tzu, the ancient Chinese military theorist, “He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious.” Pondering the passage a plan began to form in his mind.

  * * *

  Amy got a cup of coffee and sat alone in a corner of the wardroom. People entered and left but she hardly noticed while the cup slowly cooled between her hands. Dad died in this system and now eleven crewmates have died here. I hate the Altair system.

  “Penny.”

  Startled Amy looked up from the table. Marcus, in a clean, dry uniform and combed hair stood a meter away. “What? I’m sorry Marcus, I was thinking. What did you say?”

  “That’s okay. I said ‘penny’ it’s an old Earth expression. It means I’m wondering what you’re thinking about?”

  “What does an old form of currency have to do with what I am thinking?”

  “I have absolutely no idea,” he said with a laugh. He sat across from her, “But you did look like you needed company.”

  “I guess I need someone to get my mind on something else.”

  “Were you thinking about our situation?”

  “Yes, and my father. He fought here on the Chameleon.”

  “Wasn’t that the prototype for our ship?”

  “Yeah, the Mirage is very similar,” she replied.

  “Did he….”

  Amy smiled gently. “Officially he’s missing in action. During the last battle of the campaign two missiles hit the ship, and evidently my father ordered the crew to abandoned ship.”

  “Evidently?” Marcus asked.

  “Most of the survivors couldn’t remember who gave the order but several were convinced it came from my father. He may have been the ranking surviving officer.”

  “Most of the crew did survive,” Marcus stated.

  “Right,” she said pleased for some reason that he knew the history, “all the lifepods were recovered and most of the crew, but none of the senior officers, including my father, were ever found.”

  “I’ve studied the Altair battles but I never knew your father fought here.”

  “Fought and died.” Amy sighed. “When the captain said we were coming here I hoped we might get a chance to find him and maybe learn more about what happened to him.” She smiled weakly. “I didn’t think I would spend the rest of my life here.”

  Marcus frowned and said, “I guess it wasn’t in any of our plans.”

  “You came over to cheer me up and now I’ve made you depressed. Let’s start over.”

  Marcus smiled, “Agreed.”

  “Why were you so wet and disheveled on the bridge earlier?” Amy asked.

  Marcus looked sheepish. “I had just poured a cup of coffee when the explosion occurred. The pot started to fall and I tried to stop it but it spilled on the deck in front of me.”

  “Oh,” she said with a smile.

  “Then gravity failed and I ended up floating in a cloud of coffee.”

  Amy’s hands covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh.

  Over the commlink came the announcement, “All officers to power relay room one for a briefing.”

  Amy shuddered as she thought of the people who died in the compartment where they had been told to report. “I thought it decompressed,” Amy said.

  “Let’s hope the Damage Control team fixed that problem,” Marcus said with a grin.

  They descended two decks and headed aft along the main passage but soon ran into a crowd of enlisted personnel carrying duffle bags. Marcus stopped and looked intently down the nearly blocked passage.

  “Excuse me,” a crewman said as he slid by carrying a duffel bag.

  Amy got out of the way by stepping behind Marcus.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “They’re doubling and tripling us up in berthing spaces,” a crewman answered.

  “Why?” Marcus asked.

  “They say the fission reactor can’t handle the load.”

  Amy nodded. The fission reactor was an emergency backup; only the fusion reactor could run all ship systems.

  With slow deliberate steps, they walked aft along the busy and cluttered passageway. As they headed aft the corridors became less cluttered with people and things but more gray and austere. Finally they came to the junction of four passageways, just forward of the main engineering space.

  “I don’t often get down this way, but I think we’re there,” Marcus said.

  Amy smiled, “Yes it’s right up ahead.”

  The hatch to the relay room was open as they approached. “No briefing in a vacuum today,” Marcus said.

  Amy surveyed the room; they had arrived ahead of the captain. People took turns looking through the portal at the still decompressed fusion control room. Amy walked over to the hatch and looked in. Twisted metal still attached to the
bulkheads and the deck marked where the control panels had once been. Wires and cables lay in confused and twisted jumbles on the deck. Turning her head, Amy saw the ragged breech in the hull left by the explosion. A bright light shined in through the hole and a mechanical arm alternated quickly in and out. The RT-715, or Mumbai as the crew had christened it, after the city where it was made, was welding the hull. Amy turned away and saw Marcus in the corner, smiled, and made her way back towards him. From the corner, she scrutinized her fellow officers. Most of the people in the room leaned against the bulkhead or sat on the few chairs available. Marcus, on the other hand, stood almost at attention beside her. She smiled at him and, as if sensing her gaze, he turned and looked at her. Embarrassed, she quickly turned away.

  “Attention on deck!”

  “At ease,” Captain Harris said as he entered. Chief Zengal, the senior enlisted engineer, followed him. They both moved quickly to one end of the compartment. The Captain scanned the assembled men and women with a particular look that Amy always found intimidating. She had no idea if he intended it so, or if others felt as she did, but all remained standing and silent.

  “As you know,” he began, “four hours ago a Hex mine exploded near us. Good people died, but it could have been much worse. The mine was a fission mine that malfunctioned. All that hit us was the primary chemical explosion. Most of the damage was from the decompression, not the explosion. Lieutenant Ralston,” the captain said referring to Marcus, “tells me we are not in a mine field but…well, come forward and brief us on it.”

  “Ah, yes sir,” Marcus said as he moved to the front. “The class of mines we encountered were designed by the Hex to work in threes. The first blew the hole in the control room,” he said gesturing toward the next compartment, “the other two we destroyed with missiles. Those mines appear to have been left over from the Altair Campaign. There may be other groups but passive sensors show no coordinated field.”

  Around the compartment, there was a collective sigh of relief.

  “That’s the good news,” Captain Harris said. “The bad is the fusion reactor control room.” He turned and looked at Chief Zengal, “brief us on the situation.”