Captain Walker (Chapter 4)

Captain’s Log: 8502.166.  What the heck is going on?  The ship comes under attack, there are signals being beamed at Scorpio what make no sense.  I feel as if I am losing control of everything.
                                       
               

Message Received

Chapter 4

          With the exception of a low-level hum of the computers, guidance systems and monitoring devices the interior of Scorpio’s titanium-alloy hull is silent, each of the human crew members have been sound asleep, per Doctor Kim’s orders.

          The Captain is the first to rise from his long medicated rest and he sluggishly turns to one side then peers through eyes that are puffed and swollen from his forced deep sleep. 

          At first he lies silent and listening.  Then as if driven by some mysterious mind controlling force the Captain whispers to himself, and low. “OK Doc, I have done as you asked, it’s now time for work.” 

          Tom yawns deep and rubs his eyes then rolls from his hammock.  He stretches high and hard and again yawns, but deeper and labored.  While running his fingers through his dark hair Tom moves toward the wash basin where he rubs several handfuls of chlorine-smelling water over his arms, face and behind his ears then lightly towels himself off.  And after working a comb through his hair Tom heads for the hatch.

          Just before leaving his quarters Walker leans toward the ship’s communications device on the wall next to the doorway.  He keys the mike under the speaker and whispers, “Computer . . . status?”

          Then as Scorpio’s main COM computer spits out an array of information, Tom adjusts his clothing, looks at himself in the wall mounted mirror and prepares to leave for the Bridge, his Bridge.

          “Life Support AOK – Reserve Fuel Supply low but acceptable – Food Levels Adequate – Position 299.621 Solar Years from planet Earth – Telemetry AOK – Message Received.”

          Tom again pushes the com-button, “Thank you
computer.”  He is about to wave his hand over the exit door activation switch when he stops dead still and staring at nothing his mind recognizes while his thoughts race to pinpoint what he has just heard but has not fully understood . . . “Telemetry, Fuel – My God! – Message Received?!?”

          He frantically waves his hand over a dark panel to the right of the exit door then bursts down the hall leading toward the Bridge and Operations.  As he passes Rowan’s quarters he pounds on the door and yells, “Number One . . . Hurry!” then continues at a dead run.

          The Captain is standing over the COM board when Rowan bursts into the room; his eyes open wide and in a panic.  The man’s hair is a mess, his shirt half tucked in and half out and the belt around his pants undone and hanging open.  “What’s wrong Captain?”

          Tom turns to Rowan, an enormous smile on his face and holding a single sheet of paper suspended between both hands when he answers, “Not one thing Number One, not one thing!”

          Rowan looks at the paper then smiles and while buttoning his shirt he reads the message, “Welcome.”

          “Where did you get that?”

          “Right here, from the Communications Com-Port.  I believe we have been invited . . . somewhere?” Tom whispers  as he turns, lowers his hands and looks through a small port-window and into an unrecognizable space.

          First Brad, then Sheila enter the Operations Section, followed by Kim then Roger and Sally.  “What’s going on?”  They all want to know.  “What’s all the commotion about?”

          Tom raises his hands to silence his crew; “We have received a message.  But you will all hear about it very shortly.  First, where the heck is our Astrologer, Jean?”

          “Right here.”  Comes a voice from the hatchway.  The pretty longhaired blond then walks up to Tom, “Wazz-up?”

          While handing the recorded transcript to Jean
and nodding at the others, Tom says, “I want you, Roger and Sally to get together and find out where this came from.”

          As Jean motions for the other two to follow her Tom turns to his Chief Engineer and says, “OK Brad, time for work.  Send the rover to finish the job – We still need the
status on that hole in Scorpio.”

          On the opposite side of the Bridge, several people have gathered around Jean, trying to get a look at the message she holds rolled up in her right hand. 

         “Alan,” Tom yells at the crew’s historian and events-recorder.  “Alan, come here.”

          “Yes, Captain.”

          “Alan, before we were all sent to bed . . .” Tom says with a slightly sarcastic tone while looking around for his Chief Medical Officer. “ . . . the COM Computer was detailed to check on Earth history.  Collect that data.”

          “Yes Sir,” Alan answers .

          Tom sits at his command station and looks around the Bridge, and he smiles.  Small groups of technicians, specialists and experts are hard at work at various sectors around the large control room.  He then turns his attention to the front of the ship and out large port windows and into space, a space like nothing he has ever seen before.

Meanwhile on Shum

          With Dorn standing by his side, Mot watches as
the Governors file from his lab.  “I don’t think they believed me,” Mot whispers , just loud enough for his son to hear.

          “I believe you Father, there is no doubt in my mind.”

          Mot looks down at his son and smiles.  “Come on, we have work to do.  I suppose that if anyone is to believe us we must first bring those ‘THINGS’ from some place called Earth, here.”

          “I wonder what they look like,” Dorn asks .  His question directed half to his father and half to no one in particular.

          “Oh, I don’t know,” Mot whispers , only partially listening to his son as he works on some important equation.  He then lays his writing implement to one side, looks at his son and says, “They probably have two heads, ten arms andeat we from Shum for their meals.”

          Dorn produces a frightened expression, takes several quick steps closer to his father and while looking out the wall opening he whispers, “Do you really think so?”

          Mot chuckles, places his hand on his son’s shoulder and says, “No – No, I do not really think so.  I was just kidding.  These things from Earth probably eat Squall just as we do.”

          Dorn’s father stands from his sitting place, slowly walks over to the wall opening and looks up into a clear lavender sky, then whispers to himself, “Why have they not sent a message?  Have I miss-calculated?  Possibly there has been an accident or they are lost.”  Then as Mot turns to return to his work he again whispers, partially in disgust, “Possibly they are not coming at all.”

          As he moves back to his sitting place, Mot’s
mind considers one other possibility, “Possibly they have come, feared what they saw and have returned to this place called Earth.”

          Mot shakes his head, “If these visitors fail to come to Shum I will be ridiculed just as my father was!”

Back on Scorpio

         “Captain – Captain. We have it!  We know where the signal came from,” yells Jean as she quickly moves toward Tom waiving a transfer disc in her right hand.

         Tom is snapped out of his daydreaming by the ship’s Astrologer’s display, and he smiles.  “Great! We will meet at the briefing table,” directs the Captain.  Then as Tom rises from his chair, preparing to follow Jean and her team, he shouts, “OK everyone.  To the Briefing Room.”  He then looks at the Engineer, “Brad, put the Rover on auto – let’s go people.”

         One by one members of Scorpio’s crew move from various locations around the Bridge, through a hatchway at the right of Operations and into a smaller room.  And as they enter they take a seat around a large oval table  containing a raised inner platform and as excited chatter fills the small room, they wait.  The crew is finally going to learn where they are headed.

         Tom begins.  “You are all aware that we have received a message from some location within the Trenton
System.”  As the Captain holds the message over his head he continues, “Some of you may even know what the message says.”

         “WELCOME,” reads the transcript – “WELCOME!” 

         “People, we have been invited to visit the, people, who call this star-system home.”  Tom then nods to Jean, “OK Jean, lets find out exactly where we are going.”

         The ship’s Astrologer has a hard time controlling the smile that is growing larger on her face as she prepares.  She leans forward and slips the recorded transfer disc into the TD Reader at the center of the table and instantly a hologram of the entire Trenton Galaxy flashes to life hanging suspended and rotating over the raised center portion of the briefing table.

         “Ladies and Gentlemen – meet your new home!” smiles Jean, a catch and excitement in her soft voice.

         Then with the use of a lazier pointer to highlight specific areas of the hologram Jean begins.

         “The Trenton Galaxy is a Spiral System, much like ours.  Near the center of this system sits an enormous dark, dead star.  Three arms spin out from the galaxy center and rotate as a pinwheel.

         Jean halts the hologram’s rotation and with the use of the lazier pointer to locate areas of interest she continues.  “We have identified fifteen planets within Trenton.”  She then looks at the gathered faces, “All but one
of these planets are uninhabitable to life, as we know it.  Their make-up and atmosphere a ‘Death-Trap’!”  She then points the lazier pointer to each of the planets, but stops and rests the pinpoint of light on the last of the fifteen – “This one will sustain life!”

         As Jean looks at Tom and with an uncontrolled
smile sweeping across her lips she ads, “And Captain, through the use of the Azimuth program on the COM computer we have identified this planet as the one where our ‘Welcome’ message came from.”

         Excited mumbles rise from the gathering as they talk in waves and point at the small yellow pinpoint of light in the hologram.

         “What can you tell us about this planet?” the Captain asks .

         Jean directs her pointer to a magnification symbol at the base of the hologram and triggers a button.  Instantly the Trenton Galaxy hologram is replaces with another and the crew sits silent and staring at a featureless light green globe, two small suns at either side of the planet and circling.

         “We have named this planet, Dusol.”

         “Dusol,” the name is slowly uttered around the table.

         “Yes, Dusol!  Du, or duel and Sol, or solar.  Duel Solar or two suns. – Dusol”

         “I like it!” smiles Tom.  “OK then, what can you
tell us about, Dusol?”

         “Dusol is about a fourth the size of Earth and has a rich oxygen base atmosphere.  It appears that the light green color is produced by vegetation, although there are no trees on this planet.  Much of the terrain in the northern and southern hemispheres is flat with high ridges and mountain ranges around the planet’s equator.

         Jean then directs her pointer at a slide scale and moves a pointer first down and then up, and Dusol first rotates forward then backward exposing the planets north and south poles. 

         “Unlike most planets we have studies, on Dusol there are pockets of what appear to be molten lava at both poles.

         “The only problems we were able to find are first, because of Dusol’s two suns there is no darkness but a bright twilight two times during the course of the day – which, by the way, is approximately forty-four hours long. 

         Second, due to the constant glow of their suns and the heat generated from the poles, we estimate the temperature to be a constant 110 degrees (f).  Sort of like the summertime Equator temperatures back on Earth.”

         A slight chuckle comes from around the table as Jean continues, “The most severe problem we have been able to find on Dusol is a lack of indications of water.  There don’t appear to be any bodies of surface water in any form.”

         “There must be water, somewhere, to have that
much plant life!” Rowan suggests.

         “Agreed,” Jean says.  “But if there is water it has to be subterranean.”

         “Well, it’s too late to go back home,” Tom chuckles  as he stands and thanks Jean and her team for such an in-depth briefing.

         “OK people, we now know about our new home.  The water situation is something we will have to work . . .”

         Jean interrupts Tom as she again stands. “Yes, Jean, what is it?”

         With her face slightly flushed, she says, “I almost forgot.  At our present speed Dusol is still over a year way.”

         “We can handle that problem,” says Tom.  He then looks at his first in command and says, “Increase the Magnetron Merge-Rods by ten.”  And Rowan nods.

         “Anyone have any questions?” asks Tom as he looks around the table and at the blank, unreadable expressions.  He then looks at Roger, “Rog, send a message to Dusol.  Tell them that we have received their communiqué and we are coming.  Tell them that we will be there in . . .”

         Tom stops to figure when Sally speaks up. “Ninety-three, Captain.”

         The Captain has a slightly flushed expression covering his face as he nods to Sally and continues, “ . . . ninety-third revolution of their suns.”

         “OK, everyone back to work.”

         Tom is on his way back to his command chair
when Alan approaches, “Captain, I have that info you wanted.”

         “Oh yeah, on Earth!  Al, meet me in the conference room, the crew has enough information to be concerned about at the present.”

         Alan nods and heads for a small room at the far corner of the Bridge, Tom close behind.

         Before entering Tom stops, half in and half out the door opening, “Number-One?”

         “Yes captain.”

         “Number-One, get with Brad and Jean.  We need a plan to handle the water situation on Dusol.”

         “Already working on that, Captain.” smiles Rowan.

         “OK, what do we have?” asks Tom as he closes the door and sits at one of four chairs around a small table.

         Alan holds a transfer disc in his hand smiles and says, “A holograph transmission was sent to Scorpio back about a hundred years into our flight – and, so far, this is the only transmission sent from Earth!”  He then turns to a small holograph transmission-disc reader in one corner of the room and as he inserts the disc he says, “Captain, I haven’t seen the transmission and I’m not sure of its quality.  It’s been sitting around for an awful long time!”

         Both Alan and Tom watch as a transparent
shape slowly begins to form above a smooth thick glass platform of the Hologram Transfer Disc Reader.  Then with static waves and lines and with jerky movements a figure fills the space above the reader.

         “Hello Scorpio,” begins the transmission.  “I am Will Wyatt, newly elected President of the United Space Federation." 

         Tom looks at Alan, raises his eyebrows and slowly mouths the words, “SPACE Federation?”  He then returns his attention back to the poor quality transmission.

         “Earth is doing well.  Our colonies on Moon and on Mars and on Septa in the Andromada Galaxy and Regal in the Beartron Galaxy are progressing much better than anticipated.  Our population is no longer a problem and food supplies are abundant . . . ”

         Tom reaches up and slaps the reader on the side when the transmission freezes and it continues – “ . . . ten-billion people were casualties of the Third Universal War that ended ten years ago.  Peace has been established and is now thriving throughout the Universe.”

         The transmission again stops and after a nudge from Tom’s right hand it again starts with a jerk, and the President is smiling, “Universal Research funding has been allocated and plans are being made at this time.  Within seventy-five years, two manned exploratory probes will be sent your way.”

         Tom and Alan sit, their mouths hung open, the holograph representation of the President is replaces with a message “That is all – end of transmission.  04/15/2313”

         “War – Probes – What the . . .?”  After a short period of silence Tom Whispers, “Try to keep this from the crew.  I will inform them when the time is right.”  The Captain looks hard at Alan, “And now is definitely NOT the right time!”

         Alan nods.