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  “Amy?”

  She swore she heard someone call out as she entered the junction of four passageways. Feeling the switches on the side of the suit, she ensured the radio was on voice activation as she called out “Suit failure, deck five, frame 170.” But the radio was dead.

  She cursed her predicament. Control your breathing. The middle of her visor was now so fogged all that remained was peripheral vision. She stumbled, fell forward and lost magnetic contact with the deck. In near panic she flailed her arms in an attempt to grab onto something.

  Sadness welled up within her. How many people had died on this ship? She grabbed a panel on the bulkhead and pushed her way along. If she did not make it back to engineering quickly she would slowly lose consciousness, slip into a coma and then die. That’s not how I want to go. But, at least it would be more peaceful then it was for Dad and the rest of them that didn’t get off this ship.

  Sorrow seemed to seep into her suit along with the chill of the ship. It must have been awful for the crew as the light and power failed, bulkheads straining and metal twisting with the explosive decompression. The air pressure dropping to zero in a second would have ripped the last breath from their lungs. They would have tried to scream as their blood boiled and their skin turned to leather but without air no sound would have escaped their lips.

  Is that how you died, Daddy? Is that what you felt? She shook her head. Focus. Remember what you’re doing.

  Her arms ached as she pulled herself along the passageway. Tired and suddenly sleepy she mumbled, “Don’t leave me, Daddy. Where are you?”

  Here.

  * * *

  Amy gasped, coughed, tasted bile and slowly opened her eyes. She was lying on the deck with her helmet off. Corpsman Salazar leaned over her head.

  “Stay with me Lieutenant,” he said firmly. “Breathe.”

  She turned her head, gasped and then breathed in deeply. Seconds later, as her respiration became normal, she surveyed her surroundings. It looked like half the crew was in a circle around her. Marcus, still mostly in his spacesuit, knelt beside her holding her helmet.

  “Welcome back XO,” Corpsman Salazar said as he checked Amy’s vital signs on a portable monitor. “How do you feel?”

  “Awful,” she said weakly.

  “That’s great to hear,” the medic replied with a broad grin. “Let’s get you back to sickbay.”

  Marcus jumped up. “I’ll help.”

  * * *

  “Reveille, reveille, all hands heave out,” came the announcement over the commlink as the lights shifted from dim to normal brightness. Amy squinted as she awoke in a bed at one end of sickbay. Across, by the door, she saw Corpsman Salazar working at his desk.

  The plan of the day was still being read over the commlink when Captain Harris walked into sickbay, already clean-shaven and in an inspection ready uniform. Corpsman Salazar snapped to attention.

  “At ease, corpsman. How’s your patient?”

  “She’ll be fine, sir. If she gets some rest.”

  Walking over to Amy the Captain said, “We’re lucky Marcus found you.”

  “He found me?”

  “Yes. He said he got lost and found you floating down a passageway.”

  Amy felt her face flush. “I’d really like to get out of here.”

  “What do you say corpsman?”

  Salazar looked intently at Amy, “Well, as long as you get some rest, XO.”

  The Captain looked at both Amy and Salazar. “Okay. How about 24 hours of no duty?”

  “Yes sir, that will be plenty for me,” Amy smiled.

  “Yes sir, that’ll be enough,” the corpsman agreed.

  “You heard the doc. Report to me tomorrow morning,” the Captain said, turned, and walked away.

  Amy had no plans to perform any regular duties, but there was something she had to figure out. She made her way to the escape pods and took the next one back over to the Chameleon. Amy hoped to be back on the Mirage before the Captain knew she was gone.

  She was pleased to discover that after her accident the Captain had ordered all spaces on the Chameleon where members of the crew were working or passing through be provided with a breathable atmosphere. Avoiding the passageway where she had the accident, Amy walked to the auxiliary control room. As she entered the one crewmember on duty turned and nodded to her.

  “Good to see you, Lieutenant,” the crewmember said. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “No, I’ve just got something I need to figure out.” Amy walked slowly and silently around the control room mentally noting which systems would have been still operational and critical in the last minutes as the Chameleon’s crew launched escape pods.

  “Attention on deck!” The crewmember announced.

  Amy was startled but turned quickly and snapped to attention. “Hello sir. What brings you to the Chameleon?”

  “I think I should be asking you that. Didn’t I give you 24 hours with no duty just an hour ago?”

  Amy hesitated to say, but decided it was the only way to explain why she was here. “Well, yes sir but I’ve been thinking about my dad, uh, Commander Palmer. I’m convinced his body is on this ship.” I sound like some foolish child.

  “Every compartment has been searched.”

  “I’ve been trying to figure out exactly what he would have been doing at the end.”

  “And what have you come up with?”

  “After the bridge was hit and he realized he was the senior officer he would have gone here.”

  “I agree.”

  “He would have then maneuvered the ship out of harm’s way behind the line of our ships.”

  “I still agree and the telemetry data we’ve recovered seems to show that someone did just what you suggest. So where is he?”

  “Well, sir, the ship couldn’t jump to hyperspace with the damage it had endured. When the battle turned against us he would have been the one to order the crew to abandon ship.”

  “Yes and when they were gone he should have been on the last escape pod.”

  Amy said, looking him straight in the eye, “With all due respect sir, no. He had one final duty to perform.”

  “Yes,” he said slowly, “destroy the ship.”

  Amy nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s done either from the bridge, which was destroyed, or main engineering. But he couldn’t get through the fire and debris just forward of engineering.”

  “But he would have tried to find a way to do it,” Amy said.

  “Yes, but how?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I’m not all that familiar with these old ships.”

  The captain’s eyes became distant as he seemed to consider what she had said. “They’re not that old Lieutenant, I served on one.” His eyes lit up and he turned for the door. “Come with me.”

  The captain walked quickly down the corridor, slid down a ladder and then another, finally coming to a junction of four passageways. A hatch was set in the deck of an alcove off the main passageway.

  A chill shot through Amy’s body as she remembered both of the times she had been here. Pointing to the hatch in the alcove the captain said, “This maintenance shaft goes directly into engineering.” He bent down to spin the wheel on the hatch, but it was jammed. “When this area decompressed it probably slammed shut and became misaligned.” The captain pulled a commlink from his pocket and tried to call. “Only static on this unit. Try yours.”

  She tried. “Same thing. Only static.”

  “We’ll get the hatch opened. I’ll go get help. Do you want to wait here?”

  Staring at the hatch, she nodded. As he hurried aft towards engineering she found a long steel bar in the nearby debris and wedged it in the wheel. She pushed then pulled on the bar, then thrust her feet against the bulkhead and pushed again. Abruptly the wheel turned and she plopped to the deck. After getting up she tried the wheel but found it still stiff. She stuck the bar into the wheel again and with the added leverage turned it, rele
asing the hatch. Lifting it revealed a typical maintenance shaft with barely enough space to allow a technician to crawl.

  Retrieving the flashlight from her belt, she cautiously looked down the narrow passage. Are you here? She saw nothing but the shaft disappearing into darkness. As she dropped down into the tight space, she knew the logical choice was to wait for the Captain and others to return, but logic was not in control. I’m going to do this. I’m going to find Dad.

  The metal was cold to the touch and after crawling a few meters she could see her own breath. A few meters farther debris blocked the crawl space at a turn. In the narrow confines she pulled on conduit, insulation and cable, shoving it behind her. Pulling away an aluminum plate, she spotted a tattered sleeve. Is it you? She moved up as close as she could, dragging more wreckage away revealing a mummified arm. Is it you dad? She wanted to find him and bring him home, but some corner of her mind didn’t want to find him. That tiny corner still held the childhood memories of a living father. Sweat flowed down her forehead into her eyes as she carefully removed more wreckage revealing the torso.

  Dust and shards covered the chest. Using one hand in the tight space she tenderly brushed the debris away until she saw it. The nametag on the jacket read, Commander Gary Palmer.

  “Daddy,” she said as sorrow swept over her, “I found you.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Your duty is done. You are relieved.”

  * * *

  After Corpsman Salazar positively identified the remains technicians setup holo projectors in the Mirage cargo bay.

  Amy stared at the image of the Chameleon that covered an entire wall of the compartment. It would all soon be over.

  She faced the first man in her division. His uniform was neat and pressed, medals and ribbons straight and in proper order. Gig line good. She moved on to the next person.

  What had the Captain said, ‘It’s just like a funeral and I want everyone to look their best.’ It feels like a funeral. Childhood memories of her father lingered heavily in her mind. Is this some sort of grieving? No, I’ve felt this way ever since we entered the Altair system. Standing in front of the next person she forced herself to smile, briefly checked his dress blue uniform, and then moved on to the next. When the inspection of her small division was complete, she marched to the center front of the compartment and stood next to the projection of the Chameleon, but looked towards the entrance to the compartment a few meters away.

  From her vantage point, she scanned the assembled crew in their various department and division formations. Marcus stood at attention in front of Intelligence Division. Chief Zengal stood in front of the large Engineering Department.

  Marcus came forward, smiled weakly at Amy, and then stood beside her.

  The Captain had scheduled the ceremony first thing in the morning so most of the crew could be in the Mirage cargo bay. As the final department completed inspection she looked forward again, staring at the Chameleon shrinking as the Mirage pulled away. It does feel like a funeral. I’ve seen many ships destroyed. Why do I care what happens to this ship?

  When she looked again to the entrance the Captain stood just outside. “Mirage, attention,” she called when the Captain entered the compartment. As Captain Harris walked to the front Amy called out over the commlink, “All hands, the image of the Chameleon is now being displayed by all holo projectors and view screens.”

  Captain Harris stood beside her.

  “This is the captain speaking,” he said for crewmembers still on duty and listening in. He glanced along the formation before him and then continued. “The Chameleon fought well here some twenty years ago and many paid the ultimate price. We have the privilege of bringing the last of her crew home. The Chameleon has provided us with all she can—all that we need to complete our duties and return to those we love. However, because of the damage Chameleon has sustained we can’t bring her back. Therefore we have one final, solemn, duty to perform for the crew of that brave ship.”

  Captain Harris did an about face. As he looked at the image of the Chameleon he brought his right arm slowly to a salute. As if he were speaking directly to the battle-scarred ship and her crew he said, “From the crew of the Mirage, well done and thank you.” He paused for a moment, still saluting, then said, “Farewell.”

  Amy turned a key disabling magnetic containment on the Chameleon. Matter and anti-matter plasma flowed together destroying both in a momentary star-like burst of energy that consumed the Chameleon.

  Still standing beside Amy, Marcus said softly, “Fair winds and following seas.”

  Tears welled in Amy’s eyes. I can’t cry. She turned away from the crew, facing the fireball and wiped her face as casually as possible. I’ve accomplished everything that I hoped to when we came here. This may be closure, but I’m not happy. It’s like dad died just yesterday, when I found him.

  When the fireball was completely gone the Captain did an about face and Amy quickly followed.

  “Lieutenant Palmer, dismiss the crew and carry out the plan of the day.”

  “Yes sir. All hands, dismissed!” Bells rang signaling the morning change of watch.

  The image changed from the now empty space aft of the Mirage to the bow where the Bias Drive was forming a wormhole.

  Amy and the Captain walked from the cargo bay. “How soon can we send a message back to Command?” the Captain asked.

  “We’ve been working on the systems all night. We should be ready for the test jump in an hour. We could send the message after that.”

  “Good.”

  “But, sir, the fusion controls are jury rigged. I….”

  “I’m aware of that. Get with the communications tech. I want to notify Command of the bias drive problems we’re having, our location and send all of our intelligence reports.”

  The Captain stopped and faced Amy. “If the Hex are still watching this system then destroying the Chameleon may have attracted their attention. If not, creating a wormhole will.”

  Continuing down the passageway Captain Harris said, “Do the test jump to some point outside of this system, send that message and, as quickly as possible, head for home.” The Captain stopped and rubbed his face. “I’ll be on the bridge in a half an hour to relieve you.”

  * * *

  After being relieved, Amy walked into the wardroom and got a cup of coffee. At a table on the far side of the compartment, four officers played poker.

  “Hey Amy, ah, XO, want to lose some money?” Scott asked as he dealt.

  “No thanks guys.”

  “She’s afraid of my awesome poker skills,” Scott said to his companions.

  “You discovered my secret,” she said in mock surprise, then added, “Aren’t you guys tired?”

  “Never too tired to lose money,” another said. They all chuckled and continued to play.

  Amy sat down, sipped her coffee at a table by the coffee pots. Gradually she relaxed. She took another sip as the door to the wardroom opened and Marcus entered.

  “Hey Marcus,” Scott said. “Deal you in next hand?”

  “No, thanks,” he said as he walked towards Amy. Stopping at the coffee pots next to her he poured himself a cup, spilling some on the counter.

  Amy smiled and passed him a napkin.

  As he wiped up the spill he said, “I hear you were working on the fusion reactor all night.”

  “The fusion controls, actually.”

  Sitting across from her he said, “I’ve got the OOD watch in thirty minutes. Did everything go well?”

  “Yeah. Things are looking good. The captain gave permission to start the fusion reactor several hours ago. Just before the ceremony he gave the order to start the Bias Drive and, I think—hope, they’re both still online.”

  Marcus nodded and smiled at her.

  “The plan is to do a short jump out of the system as a test and then head for home.”

  Over the commlink came an announcement. “The ship will shift to emergency power in one minute to facilitate final repai
rs.”

  Moments later the overhead lights went dark leaving a single emergency light shining on the far side of the compartment opposite of Amy and Marcus. Long shadows arched along the bulkhead near where they sat.

  Scott shuffled for the next hand as Amy stared at her coffee cup. Fatigue welled up in her. She wanted to drink some coffee and she wanted to sleep. She wasn’t sure if it was exhaustion or depression, but sadness seemed to consume her. Dad is dead and so were the others we found on the ship.

  Talking to the three crewmembers at the table, Scott dealt the cards.

  Amy sighed. It must have been awful for them as power failed, bulkheads failing, metal twisting, and the air pressure dropping. Their last breath ripped from their lungs. The pain, the awful pain as their blood boiled and their skin turned to leather. Without air they couldn’t make a sound.

  Suddenly Scott stood stirring Amy from her mental fog.

  He walked across the compartment toward Amy and Marcus. Projected on the bulkhead were the shadows of all the players.

  “Something is wrong,” Scott said as he moved toward a dark corner opposite of the two lieutenants.

  Amy’s head slid back against the bulkhead.

  Russell, one of the other players looked up to see what was going on.

  Scott motioned for him to join him.

  The other two looked up from the cards and Scott motioned for both of them to join him in the unlit corner. As they did, he pointed to the bulkhead above Marcus and Amy. Standing, as if between them, was the shadow of a man.

  “It’s an illusion. It must be. Something in the wardroom is causing it.” One of them said.

  “Oh it’s in the wardroom all right, but what is it?”