Prologue
Part 3
Vengeance will be mine, said the Lord
Father Ellis arrived at the bridge hatch before Bright and Wildbird, who were still pulling themselves along the two hundred metre length of the axial corridor. The door, to his surprise, would not open when he tried.
“Maribel,” he said, reflexively touching his e-Go, a small comms bud behind his right ear. “Open the bridge door, please.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Dave,” she giggled.
“Father Almighty, save me from AIs with a sense of humour and a keen awareness of cinematographic history,” Ellis said rolling his eyes. “Why can’t you open the hatch, Maribel?”
“Lieutenant Bright put two-factor authentication in place, Father,” Maribel responded, and you’re not yet authorised to override Bridge access locks. I’m sure he will implement your authorisation when he thinks of it.”
“So, meanwhile I’ll have to wait for him to haul himself up here to get in?”
“That is correct, Father,” Maribel chimed. “I have sent a reminder to his e-Go to induct you as soon as convenient.”
“How does this two-factor authentication work?” Ellis asked.
“Handprint and password,” the AI replied. “I will issue you with a personal password of the day at midnight, which will only work with your handprint on the panel to the left of the hatch.”
Ellis glanced at the small box on the bulkhead he had not noticed prior to it being pointed out. “Who are we trying to stop?”
“The lieutenant has not indoctrinated me with that intelligence,” Maribel intoned.
“He told you to say that didn’t he?” Ellis let a tight grin flash across his face. “It doesn’t sound like you.”
He imagined her rolling digital eyes in a VR scene hidden away in her circuits, and wondered if she had a physical representation, some kind of avatar, or self-image. He made a mental note to quiz her about it later.
“You are, as usual, absolutely correct, Father,” Maribel responded.
“Boarders,” Bright answered as he pulled himself hand over hand across the last few metres. “In the event of a Moaik attack, the bridge officer has instructions to blow the fusion reactor. The bulkhead should slow them down enough to allow the self-destruct sequence to be initiated.”
“Is that likely?” Father Ellis furrowed his brow. “I thought we’d destroyed all their raiders.”
“We think so too,” Bright turned his head slightly, averting his eyes from Ellis’s gaze.
“But?” Ellis prompted.
“But…” Bright drew in a breath. “Intelligence suggests there were twelve craft in the initial raid, not eleven. At those distances, and without a dedicated observation, we can’t be certain. And they were moving fast. Far faster than anything in our experience.”
“So, there could be a Moaik raider out here, waiting for its moment,” Ellis said slowly.
“We think it’s more likely they’ll be on a spying mission, gathering intel for future invasions,” Bright’s face was impassive, and Ellis could read nothing from his expression. “But we’re not taking any chances.”
“So, the plan is, we blow the ship if they get onboard. And that’s it?” Ellis’s voice rose as his incredulity mounted.
“We have a contingency,” Bright replied. “I’ll introduce you to them.”
Bright pulled himself to the hand scanner, tapped in a passcode and placed his palm flat against the scanner. The hatch bolts slid back, and he swung the door open. Through the open portal, Ellis could make out five figures in the cramped bridge. One was the compact figure of Caradoc Alois, sat in his swivel chair engaged in a deep conversation with a crew member. Ellis had known Alois since attending VEC together. The Venerable English College had been training priests since 1579, and despite Alois leaving before graduation to take up an offer with the European Space Agency, they had remained friends ever since. More importantly than Alois retaining his faith, Ellis trusted him implicitly.
Next to Alois, the person with whom he was discussing something of obvious import, was the slim figure of his first officer, Seema Patel. Seema was the only non-Catholic in the original crew, she identified as non-religious, but in interviews she proved to be beyond suitable to take up the role. Honest, forthright, dedicated, and fiercely loyal, with a knack for intuitive problem solving most would view as magical, Seema was the ideal second-in-command, and had proved her worth in dozens of design conferences prior to launch from Moon-base. Ellis had personally selected her over the objections of the non-crew members on the panel.
The three other hulking figures were unknown to Ellis. They seemed to his untrained eyes to be wearing advanced tech battle armour of some sort, and all were carrying a compact firearm across their chests. The armour looked like saddle leather, although Ellis was pretty certain it was some kind of composite and covered the entirety of their body in segmented panels, giving them something of an insectile appearance. Similarly, their heads were clad in protective panels, although the sides and back appeared to be one moulded piece, with a clear face panel, and a fold down plate perched high on their head, similar in design to a medieval knight’s visor.
“I take it these fellows are the contingency,” Ellis said as he glided through the portal after Wildbird and Bright had entered. He waved a hand at the three soldiers, who stood stock still, at attention, to one side of the bridge.
“Stand easy,” Bright said to the three and they relaxed. Then turning to Ellis, “Yes, these are the finest Special Forces operatives in the system. We were very lucky to have them training at Europa base when the mission was conceived. I co-opted them. I’ve been told they are the best of the best and I have no reason to doubt that assessment.”
“Are those projectile weapons?” Ellis asked, nodding at the guns strapped to the soldiers. “That wouldn’t be my choice in the confines of a spaceship. A bit of a baby and bathwater situation, don’t you think?”
“No, they’re energy weapons, another of Dr Wildbird’s innovations,” Bright nodded at his companion. “Can you explain?”
“Yes,” she said. “They’re conceptually similar to the bomb-pumped lasers. They have high-density, one shot, pre-charged capacitors in a magazine, which provide enough power to a laser that can puncture space-suits and organics with quite devastating effect. Each magazine carries two hundred rounds, and the troopers carry two spares. If we can’t take out an invading force with eighteen hundred laser bolts, then we’re doing it wrong.”
“Would they damage the ship’s hull with a direct hit?” Ellis demanded.
“They’d melt the interior hull but fail to penetrate the plas-met skin behind that, unless it received several direct hits in exactly the same place. The same goes for the two outer hull skins. Both would need successive hits in the same place to rupture. It can be done, but you’d have to be trying very hard to do it.” Wildbird patted the wall as if to emphasise her words.
“What about our equipment?” Ellis continued.
“Father, there’s no such thing as a clean war,” Bright stated flatly. “Combat carries risks. Our job is improving our survival odds, but we can’t do that if an enemy force is laughing at our weaponry.”
“Okay,” Ellis said slowly. He had his misgivings about the advisability of any weapons onboard a space craft, but recognised the situation was abnormal. “I understand. I suppose it’s better to go down fighting than just give up.”
“Exactly that,” Bright confirmed. Then turning to one of the armour-clad figures with #1 stencilled on his front, he said, “Although, I’m sure the sergeant here has no intention of going down at all. Isn’t that right sergeant?”
“Sir, no sir,” the figure responded. “With the lieutenant’s permission, we were just rotating our force.”
“Carry on, sergeant,” Bright replied and moved back, swimming in mid-air.
“Trooper Smit, you are relieved. Get some shut-eye.”
The figure wearing #2 saluted and headed out of the hatch with quick, inhuman strides, their magnetic boots clicking with each step.
“There’s a fourth trooper getting some shut-eye,” said Bright. “Trooper Miles Antoniani. He’ll be on duty in four hours. We always have two on and two off-duty. The other member of our fighting force here is Trooper Peeta Bangra-Tome. She’s just come on duty and will remain on the bridge for a further eight hours.”
“Thank you for looking after us, Trooper,” Ellis looked the androgynous figure up and down. The suits hid any indication of gender, but no doubt contained discrete differences accommodating the necessary plumbing.
“My pleasure, sir err father sir,” Bangra-Tome barked.
“Father will do,” Ellis said. He wondered if his new flock members would have need of the sacraments. “If you or any of your comrades in arms want to talk to me, my door is always open.”
“Thank you, father,” she said in a less parade-ground style. “I will inform my colleagues.”
“As you were, trooper,” commanded Bright, guiding Ellis towards the captain’s chair. “Of course, you know Captain Alois and First Officer Patel.”
“Indeed, I do,” Ellis beamed as Alois stood and embraced him. “Caradoc, it’s so good to see you.”
“Back from the dead, I see,” Alois laughed. “You know what happened to the last shepherd who could say that.”
Ellis guffawed, “Oh please, Caradoc. Don’t get me into trouble with the church.”
“It’s nice to see you haven’t lost your sense of humour in that freezer these last few months. Especially in the light of events.” Alois’ face turned dark. “It was terrible. I have had to bear the burden of popping in and out of hibo and watching events unfold. The loss of so many. And when Rome fell, well…”
“You should have woken me,” Ellis said, suddenly serious. “My duties…”
“I know, but Eloise was insistent. She didn’t like the idea of me surfacing so often either.” Alois said.
“Did she stay awake the whole time?”
“Yes,” Alois answered. “Just her and Maribel, until the Lieutenant and his squad arrived. “I’m surprised she didn’t go mad. She woke Chief Williams first, as I’d only just gone back into hibo when the message arrived from Earth that a transport ship was on an intercept orbit from Europa.”
“What about Tanya?” Ellis said, asking after the second engineer.
“She hasn’t told you?” Alois’ face dropped. “Second Engineer Roberts did not survive hibernation. All attempts to revive her failed.”
“And her body?”
“We had to let it go,” Alois confessed. “We didn’t have the facilities to accommodate her. So, I buried her at sea, as it were.”
“Caradoc,” Ellis chided. “You should have woken me then. I could have…”
“Eloise overrode me,” Alois said. “I didn’t argue much, to be fair. We reasoned that once you were up and well enough, you could perform a remembrance service.”
“I see,” Ellis looked momentarily angry, but then brightened. “I can’t blame Eloise, although there are times when I wish someone would free me from this turbulent doctor, and I suppose if there were to be any ship’s captain, anywhere on the high seas or in the stars to perform last rites, I couldn’t think of anyone better than you.”
“I instructed Dr Mugangwe not to wake you, Father,” Bright interjected. “While this is now a military mission, it still has a civilian component, and I wasn’t prepared to jeopardise its leader in those circumstances. Besides, it takes a week to pull someone from hibo properly, and crashing you out was not something I was prepared to countenance.”
“I understand, Lieutenant,” Ellis responded after a moment’s thought. He would have liked to have conducted the service for Tanya, but the greater good dictated he be able and ready to tend to all his flock should the need arise. “Can you schedule a crew meeting for a service of remembrance? Any time you like, I don’t need any preparation. Has anyone contacted her family? I believe her parents live in London.”
“London has gone, father,” said Wildbird. “It was one of the first but practically all of Europe is in flames.”
“London?” Ellis blanched. Visions of his digs in West Hampstead, Myra the clever and witty Irish lady who washed and cleaned for him, the Patels who owned the corner shop, the people on the bus stop on Hampstead Road waiting for the number 24, the children on their way to school, all swam before his eyes. “Oh Lord.”
Ellis felt a hardening inside. This was a trial he would see out until the very end. It was not for him to seek revenge, but he would wait on the Lord’s judgement. He silently intoned the words from Psalm 37, The wicked have drawn the sword and bent their bow, To cast down the afflicted and the needy, To slay those who are upright in conduct. Their sword will enter their own heart, And their bows will be broken. He would not act out of vengeance, but should the Lord call him, he would be His sword.
Part 4
Let there be light
TBC
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