UTFS Intrepid – Briefing Room
Commanders Philip and Lovell, Chief Engineer Dockins
“A weapon? I don’t like the thought of it,” Lovell said. “I don’t like the thought at all. There’s just been no anti-UTF activity, and the Forerunner mission has undeniably high public appeal.”
“I know,” Dockins said. “I don’t want to think about the alternative, sir, but I think Ms. Cho is correct. If it was a weapon, we need to be open to the possibilities, and that includes the extra-ordinary.”
Philip cleared his throat. “Just so I’m clear here, gentlemen, you are referring to extra-terrestrial life, correct? Just come out and say it. We’re hundreds of light-years out of our own galaxy. The possibility is definitely not zero. My question: was it a warning? To not proceed further?”
“I’d agree with that,” Lovell supplied, nodding. “The Sensor Pods, I think, would be obvious to just about anyone that had some level of scanner technology. Has there been any word from UTF Naval Command yet?” Lovell asked.
“Not yet. Communications tells me there’re some radiation storms interfering with the signals, so they’re being delayed a few days,” Philip sighed, thinking over their current predicament. “Still, I plan to proceed with the mission. We’ll just be more cautious. I want the sensor suites manned around the clock, and put the Shield teams on rotating shifts as well. Dockins, continue analyzing the remains of the pod, but, moving forward, prepare for Pod capture according to the schedule.”
Dockins nodded, rose from his chair, saluted, and left the room. Lovell came around and sat down in the seat Dockins had vacated. “They had said this was a possibility before we left, but still, I’d never thought I’d see the day. Hundreds of sectors scanned and mapped out, hundreds of worlds, and never have we discovered sentient life. What worries me the most is that we don’t seem to be welcome.”
Philip looked over at his first officer and sighed. With the loss of the pod, the chance of the first meeting being friendly was extremely low. Philip sighed, “Same.” Philip thought of something then added, “I want you to put together the emergency beacon, just in case. Start downloading data to it, every hour.”
“Aye, sir,” Lovell rose, saluted, and left the room. Philip sat by himself for some time, thinking over the possibilities and thinking how much he disliked the current situation they were finding themselves in. Eventually, he left and returned to the bridge.
The Intrepid was back at its initial Launch Point. The Pods were programmed to return there after their initial and secondary sweeps were completed. The scans took a few days, so the Intrepid would just wait for the Pods to return home, recording all the data that was sent to it. Philip scanned the command trench, watching his bridge crew going about their duties with practiced ease. Four specialists huddled over the Mission Specialist station whispering tech jargon to each other while flipping through holo-displays.
Suddenly, one of the techs gasped and another called out, “Sir, we’ve just lost data streams from another pod, this time number two! Same thing as pod three, a signal spike, then nothing,” the tech looked at Philip slightly paled. The Commander knew that rumors had started to spread. Before the commander could say anything, another holo-display went red. “Sir, we just lost number one!”
Philip stood and hopped down into the trench to look at the screens himself. The technicians quickly parted to make room. “Here, sir, same thing, signal spike, then nothing. What’s going on here?”
Commander Philip straightened and turned toward the sensor station, “Sensors to maximum. Search for anything out of the ordinary. Don’t let anything slip by.”
“Aye, sir,” came the response, the operator bending over her console, adjusting the sensor settings.
The Communications officer stood up, “Sir, I have Chief Dockins on the line. He’s reporting on the Pods.”
“Tell him we know. We’re looking into it.”
“We just lost Pod number Four!” the technician called out. Philip turned back to the station and confirmed the dead signal.
“Understood. Let’s keep calm here, people. We don’t know exactly what’s happening yet, but keep cool. Navigation, plot a course to Pod Number Two. We’ll investigate like we did for Number Three.”
“Aye, sir. Plotting course.”
“Sir! I have contact!” the sensor operator called out.
“How far out?” Philip said immediately. Hairs were starting to prickle on the back of his neck.
“Max range and closing. I can’t get a good sensor lock. Permission to launch a sensor buoy?”
Philip returned to his chair and sat down. “Granted, launch the buoy. Also get Lovell up here. Set ship status Level Three. All crew to Level Three Status.” Immediately, lighting on the bridge dimmed and claxons blared three times across the ship. Operators in the trench strapped themselves into their chairs and pushed the small activator buttons on their extender rings. Philip heard the woosh, snap, and hiss of the locksuits sealing across the bridge. Level Three status required all personnel to seal their locksuits in case of emergency.
Lovell entered the bridge a few minutes later, breathing heavily, his locksuit sealed. Philip still had yet to lock his.
“Sensor Buoy approaching Contact. System coming online, I’m starting to receive a signal.”
“Put it up on the main display,” Philip commanded.
“Online, sir,” the sensor operator called out as a large holo-display snapped to life above the command trench and in front of the Command chairs. A collective gasp filled the bridge. The display showed an object gliding through space. It had what were unmistakably running lights. A glow from opposite side indicated some sort of engine. “That’s a ship,” Philip started.
“I’ve never seen the type before,” Lovell finished.
“Checking design with the main computer d-base,” the operator called out. The image changed, overlaying the ship with a wireframe mesh pulling the design into the computer. “Computer reports an Unknown, identifier set as VU dash 001.”
“Communications, is there any word from UTF Naval Command, yet?” Philip asked quickly.
“Negative, sir, I haven’t been able to reach them at all. I thought at first it was some sort of radiation storm behind us interfering, but now I’ve got static all over the place.”
“Probably from the Contact,” Lovell said.
“Agreed. Activate the Polyhedron Shields and set ship status Level One,” Philip called out. Lighting changed to red on the bridge and claxons sounded throughout the ship. The Engineering station to Philip’s right came alive and a holo-display with Dockins on it snapped into existence. “Engineering, here, Patterson Reactor running normally, increasing output; power is being routed to weapons and defenses.”
Lovell looked at his combracer which was currently displaying the status of the ship. All sections soon had reported in. “Ship is now in Level One readiness, Captain,” Lovell said evenly.
“Sir, activity from the Contact. I’m reading an energy buildup,” reported the sensor operator.
The bridge crew looked at the display watching the strange ship. A faint glow was now visible at the bow and grew in intensity until it was extremely bright. There was a sudden flash and the screen went to static. “I just lost the buoy!” called the sensor operator, her voice carrying a slight panicked edge.
“Communications, set the emergency beacon to real-time data download. Navigation: get me a course plotting for the Meran Sector, quickly!” The Forerunner was not a ship designed for battle. Commander John Philip’s greatest nightmare had just become reality. The chances of their Polyhedron Shield holding was probably slim, if the sensor pods were any indication. The Meran Sector was in set UTF space, and if they could get there, they could hopefully contact Naval Command and get further instructions.
“Contact is increasing speed!”
“Heading?” Lovell barked out.
“Here, sir!”
“Navigation, hurry on those coordinates,” Philip said in as calm a voice as he could muster. He punched a button on his combracer opening up the ship-wide channel: “People, the Forerunner mission is hereby suspended. In the face of this unknown threat, we are returning to UTF space for further instructions. Follow the instructions of your Section Heads. Rely on your training, get your jobs done and we’ll get through this.” He closed the channel and hit the button on his extender ring. His locksuit sealed.
“Coordinates still calculating, five minutes,” updated navigation.
“Time till intercept with the Contact?” Philip asked the sensor operator. She looked at him, “Less than three minutes. It’s still accelerating.”
“Navigation, I need coordinates in two!”
“Working on it, sir!”
“Shields, make sure you’re set. I don’t want anything to get through, just in case,” Philip instructed.
“Aye, sir.”
“I’ve lost the Contact!” the sensor operator shouted.
“What the hell, where’d it go?” Lovell demanded.
“I have no idea! It’s not on my scope anywhere. It was there, and then, nothing!”
“Ok people, keep cool,” Philip called out over the commotion. “Navigation, you’d better make those coordinates appear and quick.”
“Working on it, sir, there seems to be some sort of interference. The Computer is having trouble predicting the proper path.”
Lovell grimaced, “This is not the time for the computer to get picky. Just get it done!”
“Aye, sir, I’m working on-“ and the entire ship lurched. Lovell was thrown to the floor. The bridge crew strapped into their chairs was safe, but still shaken. Philip had to cling onto the arm rest to keep from being thrown himself. Claxons began blaring.
“Report!! Get me a damage report!” Philip shouted over the din. “Lovell, are you alright?” Philip asked as his first officer got to his feet. “Aye, I’m fine. Just shaken,” he said as he took his own seat and strapped in. Philip did the same.
“I’m showing explosive decompression in B-Block, Green sector. Damage teams are reporting there now. I’m showing fires. Bulkheads have sealed off the exposed compartment.”
“Sir!” shouted the sensor operator, “Look out the window!”
Philip popped his restraint and ran through the holo-display and looked out the main bridge window in disbelief. The Unknown was hovering right in front of the bridge. Philip could see a large section of his own ship missing down below on the forward hull, as if it had been melted away. The Polyhedron Shields had been completely ineffective. Philip looked back up to the Unknown. It was a wicked-looking thing, with sharp edges and rounded, drooping wings. Philip could only think that it looked like some vicious bird-of-prey. Its color was of some blackened metallic that reflected the white hull of the Intrepid and the stars around it. Philip then saw a now all-to-familiar light at the bow and it began to grow in intensity.
Philip whirled, “Evacuate the bridge! Everyone out now!” he shouted. But it was too late. The glow flashed, and suddenly, Philip and the bridge windows were gone. Sudden decompression sucked chairs right out of their moorings. Operators and technicians screamed as they were sucked out into space.
Lovell holding onto the floor grating crawled to the elevator at the back of the bridge and slammed his gloved fist onto the call button. But nothing happened. The Main Computer shut down the elevator as soon as the bridge lost pressure. Lovell turned and watched the ship, still floating outside the bridge. He saw the light charge up again and knew what was coming. He didn’t see anything past the flash, but others did. This time, the alien ship raked the bridge with the weapon and then raked down the command tower into the bridge anchor. Sudden decompression erupted across the damaged hull, sucking airlocks off their hinges and blowing people out into space. Bulkheads gave way, and the ship began to falter.
Dockins was standing at his console in Main Engineering. He was shouting orders into his combracer coordinating damage teams. Caroline and Smitty were with him at their respective stations doing the same. Finally Smitty stopped and came over to Dockins yelling to get his attention, “It’s over, Chief! The Bridge is gone and the anchor’s been destabilized! The Polyhedron Shields are useless and we’re starting to lose structural integrity! If we start to lose containment down there, we’re toast! WE need to evacuate!”
Dockins looked at him and all of the damage reports that were flooding into engineering. He knew the man was right. One unknown vessel, not even a quarter of the size of the Intrepid had just defeated her in a matter of minutes. He nodded, “Alright, get everyone to the escape pods! I’ll send the signal. Caroline, you help him! Get everyone out of here!” His engineering staff looked at him shocked. “You heard me! Abandon ship! NOW!”
Smitty and Caroline immediately began to organize the chaos. Dockins pulled up a holo-display and punched in his command code. Since the bridge was gone, and he’d heard nothing from any of the command staff, it seemed he was next in charge. He submitted the Evacuate Command and immediately, the ship-wide communication system started blaring ‘Abandon Ship, all crew to escape pods, all hands, abandon ship!”
Dockins turned and left engineering. He looked down at the Patterson Drive Reactor, and shook his head in frustration. He then turned to leave the Core when the ceiling above him disintegrated. He instinctively grabbed the railing and hit the switch for the maglocks to activate on his feet and he touched back down to the deck. He watched some of his people that were not so lucky go spiraling out into space. As his eyes followed the poor souls, he came across it: the dark, reflective bird-of-prey. It was hovering just outside of the exposed hull. It seemed to be looking straight down into the Core at the purple vortex of the Patterson Reactor. Dockins heard over his helmet comm-link both Smitty and Caroline screaming at him to get out, but he knew it was no use. He saw the green flash arc out and down into the Reactor. There was a purple flash that blinded him, and then he felt himself blown from the deck upwards. He felt his ankles break as they were wrenched from the maglocks.
Dockins bounced off the wall with a bone-shattering crack and felt himself floating outside into space. He heard Smitty shouting and Caroline crying. When vision returned to him a moment later, he found himself floating outside the ship looking down into the remains of the Intrepid. She had been rent into pieces. The bridge tower completely gone, the forward several decks separated from the aft, and a hole straight through the middle of the ship right down to the Core. He saw the vortex of the Reactor spinning wildly out of control, Patterson particles leaking out of containment.
He saw it explode.
His vantage point showed him everything. The alien vessel moving silently off unharmed, the Intrepid’s hull vaporizing from the expanding purple field of pyroclastic energy, escape pods exploding, expanding light, chemical fires, debris striking him, punching through his suit and already broken body, and then finally, nothing.
April 12th, 2253
Planet Earth, UTF Naval Command
Rear Admiral Frank Miller
“So this was all that we received from the Intrepid?” the Admiral asked his aide.
“Yes, sir. It was the emergency beacon. It was getting real-time data downloads at the end, and was fired off when the bridge was destroyed, but unfortunately, was damaged in the resulting containment-failure explosion. It barely made jump-out in the Meran sector and was beginning to fail when it was picked up by the patrol frigate, so some of the data was unrecoverable. What we do know, is that the Intrepid was destroyed by an unknown assailant, and all hands were lost.”
“Alright, I want a meeting with the Joint Chiefs and the President. He must be made aware.”
“I’ll schedule it right away, sir.”
The aide turned to leave just as the door burst open with an ensign bearing a sealed envelope. “This just in, high priority, sir,” he said after he saluted. He handed over the document that Miller immediately opened and scanned. After a moment reading his eyes snapped up.
“Go find the duty officer at the NCC. Send out this immediate order: all Forerunners are immediately recalled, return to home ports at once.” The aide looked shocked and then remembered his place and quickly left the room. The ensign awaited orders. “Go find Admiral McArthur and order an emergency meeting of the Joint Chiefs.”
“Yes, sir,” he saluted and left.
The meeting with the Joint Chiefs lasted a little over ten minutes. Their meeting with the President lasted even less. Military defense readiness was to be raised. No reason was given as to why. Over the next few months, construction orders swamped the Ares Naval Shipyards. The UTF navy was strengthening its numbers. Many questioned the actions, but as the orders came directly from the Office of the President, few answers came.
By the following year, only one of several Forerunners would return home. The rest were destroyed in a similar manner to the Intrepid, or would simply vanish. It was never publically announced, but the United Terran Federation was at war with a completely unknown and technologically superior opponent. The UTF military poured massive resources into their R&D sections, and soon, designs for massive ships - super carriers and dreadnaughts - were approved. Over the next twenty-five years, the UTF Navy would increase its numbers ten-fold to almost seven-thousand ships.
The year is now 2278. No sign of hostile aliens has been sighted in nearly twenty-five years. Unwilling to be cowed into non-action, the UTF again makes plans to send a Forerunner out into deep space. But this time, she won’t be going alone. The UTF Navy officially creates the 67th Special Fleet to be her escort. The Forerunner Eclipse is also a totally re-designed Forerunner II class ship. Larger and more powerful than her older cousins, and also loaded down with the latest weaponry and defensive systems – most of which are based on combat data taken from the Intrepid’s emergency beacon. If they are attacked, they will most definitely be ready.
Grand Admiral Miller dropped the report onto his desk. It had been a long, tiring twenty-five years. He had fought long and hard to prepare for what he knew surely had to come. But, strangely enough, once the last Forerunner had gone missing, there were never any new signs of aggression. Many of his supporters began to question if they hadn’t jumped the gun as time had passed. Miller had no means of assuaging their doubts. So he had come up with the plan to send out another Forerunner. If it was attacked, they’d know. Miller massaged his temples. It nagged at his conscience, sending over several thousand people to their possible deaths to prove a point. But it had to be done for the greater good. At least, that thought let him sleep at night.
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