Galaxy's End: Book One by LeRoy Clary (popular ebook readers txt) 📗

I hesitated to wipe it off because Bill would notice. However, my interaction with Chance was not at an end.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

Captain Stone

 

Captain Stone returned to the bridge at Fang’s request. The ships following them were edging closer at each nexus. The instantaneous blips on the screen were analyzed and distances estimated before entering the next portion of the wormhole. However, while her ship had only that instant of time, the pair behind either had the same amount of time to determine which way they would turn at each intersection—or they were able to track them in the wormhole. That was supposed to be impossible.

So was calculating the twists and turns Fang had piloted so they could follow. She hurried down the short passage and entered the bridge as if she were a storm pounding a seacoast.

“Update me,” she demanded of Fang as she found her command seat and her fingers flew over the various inputs for the screens lining the front wall. The images of several screens flickered and changed. Numbers scrolled down the side of one monitor while other information was displayed in graphic formats.

Fang misted himself as if his skin had suddenly become dry. His voice snapped in response, “Captain, at the last confluence, we entered the wormhole leading to the Bradly Concord military base and there are no other outlets but the end. The nexus point is listed on the star charts as empty space, with no nearby planetary bodies, habs, or stars. Those ships behind us have consulted their navigation computers and know that.”

“So, they believe there is nowhere for us to escape to. We cannot turn around inside a wormhole. It’s a dead-end ahead. The best we can do is exit the wormhole and attempt to reenter before they can stop us. They are closing the distance so they do not have to chase us very far and can blockade our reentry.”

“That is my conclusion, Captain. They will be right on our tail when we emerge. One ship will remain to plug the wormhole entry and the other can chase us down, which should not take long.”

She studied the tables indicating that unless a change in velocity occurred, the three ships would enter normal space within a short time of each other. “Thankfully, for their plan to work, the other two ships will exit the wormhole after us.”

The other item that drew her attention was Fang. While most of the time he was callous, rude, caustic, and often humorous, when the situation demanded, his entire demeanor transformed. He addressed her formally, by her position as captain, and he provided precise responses then repeated her commands in his answers to ensure there was no misunderstanding.

Those were the habits and traits of military training. It indicated he had been on the bridge of a military ship as crew—perhaps as captain.

Judging any race by preconceived ideas is always risky. There are too many ways to make mistakes based on her racial profiles and past experiences. Yet, it was natural to do so. Familiarity is a great advantage in most instances, a detraction in others.

From a few hints he unwittingly provided, and a few brief explanations, she surmised the swamp-thing was far older than she. His background would be interesting to learn. It was a subject for future discussion—and it was private if he so desired.

She said to the speaker above, “Bert, have you had time to work on that transmission we discussed for the military when we break out?”

“I have,” he said after his usual ping. “It will include a greeting, a plea for help, an offer of our assistance in their war, and the fact that two enemy ships are right behind us will be transmitted in the briefest of terms. We also offer our surrender and wish to consult with their high command.”

“That sounds like a lot,” she declared. “Too much. We need them to hold off blasting us from here to there long enough to talk.”

Bert snorted with humor and without another ping. “For your understanding, I gave the uncut version. Perhaps this will meet better your approval: We surrender. We have come to help you win your war. Two enemy ships follow. Take us to your high command.”

“That should get their interest,” she said.

“They will hear our first message long before they can fire on us. It will be repeated on dozens of frequencies. Shortly after, a far longer message will clarify and expand most of what the first message tells them.”

She nodded and realized Bert couldn’t see her. “I get it. Give them enough to keep their fingers off the triggers, then provide more. Good idea. I have one suggestion.”

“Captain?” Bert sounded hurt.

“Reconfigure the first message and expand on the second that the two ships back there must not be destroyed. They must be captured. That is critical. Explain in the second message that the two ships behind us contain the technology they need.”

Bert pinged softly as if in apology. “I should have thought of that. It will be done.”

“Thank you,” she tried to sound uncritical. It was difficult because Bert should have thought of it without her intervention. She had already come to rely on him to such a degree that a simple enhancement of his message was almost a rebuke.

Her thinking shifted to the idea of the new aliens who had possibly brought with them the technology of following a ship within a wormhole. All she knew was they supposedly came into the human sphere from the far side. There had been no hint of their race, star of origin, or other indefinable indications.

The secret military base they were approaching was nearby there if a few dozen light-years can be considered nearby. The few rumors Bert had acquired originated in the vicinity. She