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Stonerager Chronicles - Ch. 10 (Final)
🕑 Added 2025-03-21 10:00:08 +0000 UTCStonerager Chronicles
By 2Charlie
This is a science fiction series that happens to include occasional erotic scenes. If you have not yet read previous chapters of this series, I highly recommend going back to do so before you read this chapter.
All characters in this story are of the age of majority.
Chapter 10
****1030 Ship’s Time, Day 55****
“Okay,” Dutch stressed, wanting to make certain, “Is everyone clear on the need to be invisible on this trip?”
Before they jumped out of the Rigel system, Dutch had taken a few moments to brief the Under Instruction watch crew on events that had transpired during his last visit to the Sol System. Stressing his desire to avoid contact with any iShan’tal patrols on this trip, he wanted to ensure he’d properly emphasized the point.
Lt. Griffon, the Under Instruction Officer of the Deck watch stander, affirmed on behalf of the entire watch team. “Yes, Captain, we are clear on the need for Odyssey to be undetected on this mission.”
“Excellent,” he acknowledged, clapping his hands to hammer home the point. “Then, Lt. Griffon, let’s proceed to the Sol System under full Stealth Mode, if you please.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Griffon replied, then turned to her OPS officer. “Lt. Qui’Ho, engage Stealth Screens.”
The ambient light on the bridge shifted to blue, and Lt. Qui’Ho announced, “Stealth Screens engaged, sir.”
Turning to look at her Science Officer, Griffon continued down the pre-jump procedure. “Lt. Chang, maintain long-range scanning, and inform me the moment you detect any anomalous indications.”
“Maintaining long-range scans, aye,” Lt. Chang confirmed from his console.
“Lt. Charizzo, do you have our jump point plotted to the Sol System?” Griffon asked her NAV watch.
“Affirmative, sir. We’ll be jumping into the Sol System out at the extreme edge of Neptune’s orbit, and I also have an emergency jump trajectory laid in, just in case….” Lt. Charizzo confirmed, fingers brushing a few more controls on his console.
Tapping her comm badge, Griffon spoke aloud, “Prime, please advise all hands to prepare for jump.”
The speaker overhead emitted a now-familiar boatswain’s pipe, an ancient maritime whistle that Prime had adopted to use during ship-wide announcements. “All hands, stand by for Jump. Repeat, all hands, prepare for Jump.”
Taking her seat in the command chair, Griffon took one last look around the bridge, then calmly ordered, “Lt. O’Connor, jump us to the Sol System.”
“Aye, aye, sir. Jump engines coming online,” O’Connor confirmed, closely watching her readouts.
Outside the cloaked vessel, a cone of energy blossomed into a tunnel. If an observer had been capable of viewing it, they would have marveled at the sight of the Odyssey slipping across the event horizon into the tunnel, appearing to stretch away into infinity before it, along with the tunnel, disappeared.
Far across the galaxy, in a remote sector of space, almost forgotten by those who’d once been aware of it, an accretion disc formed, persisted for a moment, an image of far away stars swirling within it, then disappeared.
“Jump completed successfully. We are at the edge of the Sol system,” O’Connor informed the rest of the bridge.
“Scanning… no sign of any vessels in this vicinity,” Chang reported from the Science station.
“Maintain your scans, Lt. Chang. We don’t want to be surprised while we’re here,” Griffon cautioned. Turning to look at Dutch, she asked, “Captain, how would you like to proceed?”
“This needs to remain a clandestine visit, Lieutenant, so no in-depth planetary surveys. Not this trip, at least. Perhaps someday soon.” Dutch paused, then went on to answer the question with more specifics. “There are only a few things I wanted for you all to see. I wanted you to see the vast graveyard of ships – what remains of the two enormous fleets that clashed during the final battle of the war. And I wanted you to see the remains of our point of origin – the Earth. Beyond that, time permitting, we might want to take a look at Mars, and perhaps check out the Jovian moons. Outside of that, we should keep our presence here brief. No reason to tempt fate, after all.”
“Understood, sir,” Griffon accepted. “Lt. Chang, can you make out the ‘graveyard of ships’, as the Captain has described it?”
“Affirmative. I see a field of nearly a thousand wrecks drifting just beyond the orbit of Mars,” the Science officer replied.
“Please send the coordinates for the lead edge of the debris field to NAV,” Griffon requested.
“Coordinates received,” Charizzo confirmed a few moments later. After a short delay, he turned to face O’Connor at HELM. “Course plotted.”
“Lt. O’Connor, let’s go take a look at history,” Griffon grinned.
“We’re pretty far out, sir,” O’Connor informed Lt. Griffon. “Roughly twenty billion kilometers, give or take. So, at standard sublight, we’re looking at about sixty-one hours… do we want to go a bit faster, sir?”
Griffon turned to Dutch, one eyebrow lifted in a silent question.
Scratching his chin, he considered the options. The training cruise was supposed to last about another week, but he’d planned to do more than simply plod through a dead system. Coming to a decision, he decided to give the crew a say in the matter.
“Okay, so, we could speed things along – say, bump our speed up to fifty percent light speed – that would get us to our first point of interest in about thirty-seven hours-ish. Assuming we need to run silent, that leaves little we can do in the way of training. Alternatively, we could jump ahead, so to speak, and go directly to Earth, then work our way out to Mars, then the graveyard, then decide whether we continue probing this region, or move on. Your call, Griffon.”
Maintaining eye contact with Dutch for exactly five seconds, she turned to look aft. “Lt. Chang, are you able to detect any activity within this system? Any indication of iShan’tal patrol?”
“Negative, sir. All scans show we’re alone here,” the Science Officer responded.
Turning back forward, she addressed the Navigator. “Lt. Charizzo, please calculate a jump to put us four hundred kilometers from Earth – that should keep us far enough from any debris from the moon.”
Fingers blazing across his panel, Munez Charizzo double-checked his jump plot, then turned to face Griffon, “Jump plotted, sir.”
“Very good,” she responded. Tapping her comm badge, she spoke to the ship’s AI, “Prime, would you please advise the crew to prepare for a jump to Earth.”
The boatswain’s pipe sounded once again across the ship’s primary comm circuit. “All hands, prepare for jump to Earth. Repeat, all hands, prepare for jump to Earth.”
“Lt. O’Connor, execute the jump,” Griffon ordered, tightening her grip on the command chair armrests.
“Executing jump in three… two… one… now.” O’Connor stabbed a control on her panel, and once again, a circular whirl of stars appeared in front of them on the main screen.
As soon as the star-swirl passed, a tragic sight confronted them. Off in the distance ahead of the ship, they could see a dark, cratered world that looked nothing like the historical blue, cloud-covered images the crew had memorized from their core education. A collective gasp could be heard as each of the bridge watch standers silently considered the view in front of them.
The hatch next to Dutch opened, and Jjan’tira entered the bridge. Coming to stand beside him, she took his hand for a moment, silently absorbing the image on the screen.
“Lt. Chang, any sign of company?” Griffon asked quietly, still staring at the ruined planet ahead of them.
Turning to check his screens, he observed for several seconds before responding, “Nothing, sir. No sign we have been detected thus far.”
Nodding to herself, she then turned slightly to her left. “NAV, continue to maintain that emergency Jump plot.”
“Affirmative,” Charizzo responded calmly.
“HELM, put us in a low orbit,” Griffon ordered.
“Moving to a low orbit, aye,” O’Connor confirmed.
“Chang, if you can spare an eye for what’s below us, please begin collecting data on the planet – as much as you can without launching any sensor probes.”
“Commencing scan. Details are coming in quick – these sensors are pretty powerful,” he commented. “I should have about as much as we’ll get minus probes in about twenty orbits – perhaps a bit less.”
“Very well,” Griffon nodded. “OPS, please keep an extra eye on long-range sensors, just in case.”
“Monitoring long-range sensors,” Qui’Ho confirmed.
The hatch to the bridge opened, and Jjan’tira released his hand as Crew X-Ray watch standers entered to conduct watch relief.
Dutch was casually observing the various officers conducting their turnovers when he felt a sharp pinch on his ass that made him jump slightly. Turning, he saw Jjan’tira struggling to keep from breaking out in laughter, mischief dancing in her twinkling green eyes.
“I am here to relieve you, Captain,” she disclosed in an even, calm tone, though mirth danced around the corners of her mouth.
“Very well, Lieutenant,” he sighed, then straightened and took on a serious tone. “The ship is in a low orbit while conducting a passive-scan planetary survey. We are continuing to run under Stealth Screens, minimizing our energy signature. Once the planetary survey has been concluded, please set course for Mars, at one-quarter standard speed.”
“Understood, sir,” she stated, then repeated back her orders. “Continue to run under Stealth Screens. Minimize our energy signature. Upon completion of planetary survey, set course for Mars and head there at one-quarter standard sublight. I have the watch.”
Looking around for just a moment, he leaned in to give her a quick kiss, then acknowledged, “I stand relieved.” Stepping away from the command chair, he said, “Let me know if anything unexpected occurs, won’t you?”
“Yes, dear,” she snickered under her breath. “Now go away! Get some rest.”
Chuckling to himself at how comfortable even his youngest wife was with bossing him around, Dutch left the bridge and headed for the post-watch debriefing. In his head, he was already putting together talking points for the session, as well as questions he wanted to ask them about their impression of the human point-of-origin – how had it made them feel to see it in such a state? He wanted to begin massaging into their psyche that such a thing must never again be allowed to happen – not to Rigellia – not to any human worlds. He also wanted to explore their thoughts on how his idea of the Alliance could help prevent such an outcome from being a possibility.
He smelled the pizza, even before he entered the briefing room, and laughed quietly when his stomach grumbled loudly in response. His crew – the wives and the trainees – had adopted the habit of hosting some sort of meal or snack during the post-watch debriefing sessions. As soon as his love for brownies had become known among his women, for example, they became common snack items, and plates of left-over brownies rarely lasted long in the galley.
Entering the briefing room, Dutch took note that, of his three off-watch wives, only Alisia was present. He saw no sign of Pheebs or D’narius. Shrugging mentally, he entered and closed the hatch behind him, nodding to the others present as he stepped up to the table and grabbed a couple of slices of pizza and a drink.
Pulling up a seat, Dutch began scarfing down his food, listening to the idle chatter in the room. The trainees were struggling to sum up their feelings about the state in which they’d found the Earth, dismayed at the extent of the damage that had been done.
Sid Qui Chang was shaking his head as he discussed his initial scanner readings with Jules Takahashi. “I mean, the level of destruction was one thing, but the absolute sterility of the remaining mass was unexpected. It’s as if the entire planet had been blow-torched while being bathed in some form of exotic radiation that completely removed all traces of organic matter – everything – all the way down to the micro-biome!” Sid shook his head in dismay, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Takahashi nodded her head in agreement. “I’ve seen testing grounds after new weapons tests, and there’s always some form of surviving biotics – sometimes ranging from insects to tiny microbial life, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a thorough level of sterilization.”
Dutch decided he wanted them to further understand the context in which he first observed the aftermath of the destruction of Earth. “Try to imagine,” he began, “returning to your world – for now, let’s substitute Rigellia for Earth, to give you a sense of perspective – after a brief subjective absence. From your point of view, you’ve been gone a few days, but when you return, instead of the cloud-swathed, water-covered planet that you left, you come back to this. That’s what it was like for me when I first visited this area a few weeks ago.”
“But you’d been away from Earth for more than a millennia,” Jules started to interject, before Dutch cut her off.
“True, but subjectively, I’d only been away for a matter of days,” he reminded her. “I ‘died’ within the first few minutes of my original test flight. I had only been revived for a few days before we made our way back here. It was a truly shocking discovery, I can assure you! I didn’t even have the context that you all have, the knowledge of the war with the iShan’tal.”
“Damn, that must have been one helluva mind fuck, Captain,” Faith O’Connor commiserated, scooting her chair around to join in the conversation. As they continued discussing the survey, the rest of the members of Crew Whiskey drew their chairs into a circle to be part of the discussion.
“So, next we’re on our way to Mars,” Charlise Griffon prompted. “What will we find there?”
Dutch shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea what to expect,” he admitted. “When I left, we had an extensive set of settlements on the Moon, and were just beginning to establish the domed cities at Utopia Planitia and Isidis Planitia. I can only imagine how Mars might have developed over the centuries…”
“Actually,” Alisia pointed out, “Prime has access to the historical records and could likely summarize that information for us.”
“Not necessary,” Griffon replied with an odd smirk. “The history of the development of the Terran Empire is part of every Rigellian schoolchild’s education. Most of us could probably rattle off facts and figures about how Mars was terraformed over the course of three centuries, until humans no longer required atmospheric domes to live there. After that, Mars became the agrarian hub for the Sol system, by far outproducing the Earth in terms of metric gigatonnage of food goods. By the thirtieth century, over five billion people lived and worked on Mars, although the two domed cities you mentioned had been gone for nearly five hundred years, as they were both in what eventually became the seabed for the Utopian Ocean, which covered much of the northern hemisphere. The majority of cities were in the southern hemisphere, save for the region between Olympus and Tempe Terra.”
“Don’t forget the orbiting shipyards!” an excited Munez Charizzo added. “My great-great-grandfather on my dad’s side ran the shipyards on Demos. My grandfather used to tell me stories about how his grandfather would send him model kits of some of the ships they built there. He’d been part of the construction crew on the Hephaestus class carriers – or at least, that’s what Grandad always said. He took me to a museum in Dyson City once to show me an old Ziggurat model starfighter – said the Hephaestus carried hundreds of them.”
“Those were terrifying to see in action,” Alisia reminisced, to the astonishment of the others there. “They were much better armed and armored than our Sheen-Jai snub fighters, although we were more maneuverable. But if they ever got a weapons lock on you, you’d better get right the fuck out of there!”
“Ummm, how do you…?” Takahashi started to ask, before O’Connor cut her off.
“That’s right!” O’Connor snapped her fingers in recollection. “You were a fighter pilot in the war, on the iShan’tal side, before you were sent to negotiate for peace.”
Nodding sagely, Alisia agreed. “I can tell you, those Terran carriers were one of the reasons we were trying to negotiate for peace. Just one of them could ruin your day, and the Terran shipyards were turning them out as fast as we could turn out the Lam’Daal Dreadnaughts. To be involved in those battles was the stuff of nightmares, I assure you.”
“Getting back to the issue at hand,” Dutch said, mainly to get the crew’s focus back on the upcoming survey of Mars, “I will be curious to see the level of devastation on Mars, as compared to that which we encountered on Earth. The only other human settlements that we investigated on our last visit were on Ganymede, and those consisted of large cities that had been beneath atmospheric domes. They had all suffered significant damage from orbital bombardment, leaving the moon uninhabitable. Ganymede was completely devoid of life, save for a single survivor, who we found encased in a sleeper tube in an underground bunker that had somehow survived.”
All eyes once again shifted to Alisia, as they realized the identity of the survivor to whom Dutch was referring. The lithe redhead shrugged demurely. “In truth, that was quite an eventful day, and I remember very little of it. It was the days following that forever changed my life,” she added, smiling gently but meaningfully at Dutch.
Clearing his throat, Dutch decided to get back to the subject matter of concern. “Let’s get back to the debriefing so that we can all get on with our day. Griffon, let’s start with you – your thoughts on the watch?”
“There’s quite a bit to unpack, sir,” she began, assembling her thoughts with care. “It was our first jump – two of them, in fact. Let’s see, we were running on ultra-low EMCON, so that was new – I mean, we did similar when we rushed to confront the Noraxi raiders, but this was different. It affected how we conducted the planetary survey – we couldn’t deploy surveillance drones to assist, so the survey will lack a good deal of information, which is instructional in and of itself. All in all, I think we proved to ourselves that we could sneak into this region successfully, which is noteworthy, but also are learning that Stealth significantly curtails how much we can accomplish.”
“Good observations,” Dutch complimented her, then turned to O’Conner. “And what did you learn at the HELM, O’Connor?”
The debriefing continued for another twenty minutes or so, with Dutch making sure that they each had the opportunity to add their thoughts or impressions. Overall, they largely echoed what Griffon had said from the outset.
As soon as they’d all had a chance to speak, Dutch concluded the briefing, “That’s good enough for now. Go enjoy some downtime. Just plan to be back here later if you want to monitor the survey of Mars. I’ll probably be here, if not on the bridge, as I didn’t swing by last time I was in the neighborhood, and I must admit to being very curious myself.”
“Thank you, sir,” Griffon said, heading for the hatch, leading the bulk of her watch crew. O’Connor hesitated at the hatchway for a moment, looking as if she wanted to ask another question, then turned and exited, leaving Alisia and Dutch alone in the briefing room.
Alisia approached him and turned to sit on his lap, but Dutch gently stopped her.
“Why don’t we take this to our quarters?” he suggested calmly, giving her a smoldering look. “I’d rather not start something here that would lead to issues if one of the trainees were to walk in on us.”
She just shrugged, a wry grin forming on her face. “Depending on the trainee, they might ask to join us,” she informed him impishly.
Standing to embrace her, he held her tight for a moment before responding, “I know, but I’m not sure I’m ready to entertain guests just now. Perhaps before the end of this deployment… I’ll leave it up to you ladies to determine who you wish to allow to play with us.”
Bending down slightly, he kissed her deeply, then, still holding her hand, he turned and left, taking them both back to their quarters.
Entering the chamber, they found D’narius and Pheebs asleep in their bed. Not wishing to disturb them, Dutch and Alisia moved quietly past the bed and into the adjoining en suite, stripping off their uniforms as they went. Leaving their comm badges on the counter, they silently closed the door to the bedroom and activated the hot water shower.
Standing beneath the warm spray, Dutch held Alisia to him, enjoying her closeness, until she pushed off of him to begin to wash. Taking his cue from her, Dutch moved aside and lathered up, massaged a cleansing agent into his hair, then stepped back under the spray to rinse. Once clean, he exited the stall to dry off, allowing Alisia to finish her shower in peace.
Moments later, having dried themselves in the warm air drier, they returned to the main part of their quarters but still avoided the bed, opting instead to occupy the couch in the adjacent lounge area. As soon as Dutch had sat down, Alisia climbed onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
Slowly, Alisia shifted in his lap, adjusting herself until he felt his cock positioned at her slick, hot entrance. As he held still, she slowly adjusted her hips until he slipped inside of her, and then she lowered herself to his lap. The two of them sat there, very still, for a few moments. Eventually, he flexed his mighty cock, making it swell briefly within her channel, spurring her to begin their dance. Slowly, she gripped him with her vaginal muscles and gradually lifted until he almost fell out, then fully seated herself upon him with a soft sigh, only to lift again.
Holding her close to him, he trailed kisses along the nape of her neck to the swell of her breasts as she did the work. They continued in this way for several minutes, he flexing within her, she gripping at his pole as she slid up and down along it, both of them being as quiet as they could so as not to wake the others.
He felt her beginning to quiver and knew she was approaching her climax. Reaching down, he took hold of her ass, gripping her muscled buttocks in his giant hands as she continued to rise and fall until he was doing the work for her. Lifting her up slowly, then plunging her down swiftly, causing tiny gasps to escape her. When he felt her tense powerfully around his cock, her body straining against him, he lifted his hands to her breasts, gripping them firmly while tweaking her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.
This tipped Alisia over the edge – she started moaning aloud, convulsing as she soaked his lap with her juices. Dutch eased up on her tits and wrapped her in his arms once more, covering her mouth with his to help her remain quiet.
After a few moments, she relaxed, sagging forward to lean against his chest. They sat like that for a time, simply resting against one another, until they both dozed off.
About an hour later, Alisia was gently awakened by a hand softly stroking along her shoulders. Opening her eyes, she could just make out D’narius standing next to them with a loving smile.
D’narius leaned close to whisper in her ear, “Why don’t you ease off of him and slip into bed? I’ll finish him off before I shower and get dressed, then tuck him in next to you.”
Nodding in agreement, Alisia slowly disentangled herself from Dutch’s embrace and lifted herself gently from Dutch’s lap, feeling his still-hard cock slipping from inside her as she stood. Stepping aside, she leaned down to run her fingers through his hair before turning to kiss D’narius, then headed over to join Pheebs in bed.
D’narius stepped over Dutch’s legs to straddle him, then reached down to guide his cock into her already damp channel. Lowering herself until she rested upon his thighs, she rocked slowly in his lap, gently bringing him back to wakefulness.
Blinking his eyes a few times, Dutch focused on D’narius, taking a moment to register that she was not Alisia. Grinning as soon as he’d understood the change in partners, he grabbed her by the hips and began guiding her up and down on his steely manhood, seeking to satisfy another of his wives before surrendering once more to the Sandman.
D’narius leaned forward to lock him into a passionate kiss, humping more urgently in his lap, as he gripped her ass more firmly. He began to thrust his hips upward, still trying to keep from waking Pheebs, but working hard to satisfy D’narius.
For her part, D’narius grabbed Dutch by the head and guided his lips to her breasts, asking silently for him to stimulate her oh-so-sensitive nipples. Clasping his lips around one, he sucked hard at it, biting down gently and flicking his tongue across the tip. This sent a shiver up D’narius’ spine, and she began to fuck herself onto him as hard as she could, letting out a tiny ‘oof’ with every plunge. He felt her walls beginning to tighten relentlessly on his shaft, coupled with that familiar tingling in his balls, and he focused on meeting her in a joint climax. Barely a handful of strokes later, he felt his spend surging through his shaft as he emptied himself into her, painting her walls with his cum. Simultaneously, she convulsed upon him, her body spasming in orgasm as she panted above him.
Catching her breath, D’narius slowly pulled away from his grasp and stood up, letting his manhood slip out of her and slap wetly on his thigh. Gesturing for him to wait where he was, D’narius went into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a warm, damp cloth to clean him up and a towel to dry him off.
Patting his cheek, she kissed him, then whispered in his ear, “Why don’t you climb into bed and grab some sleep? I’ve got to get ready for the pre-watch briefing of Crew Zulu.”
Smiling, he brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, then kissed her again. “Sounds like a good idea, dear. I’ll see you later.”
Rising, Dutch padded softly over to the bed and slipped under the covers, sliding into the gap between Alisia and Pheebs while managing not to disturb them. As his head settled onto his pillow, his two wives turned in their sleep to cover him softly with their arms. Smiling at his good fortune, Dutch surrendered to sleep and was out.
****1945 Ship’s Time, Day 55****
Dutch tagged along with Pheebs as she made her way from the galley to the bridge in preparation to relieve D’narius. Pausing just before they entered the bridge, Pheebs turned to Dutch, mild concern reflected in her features. “You should really go back to bed and get some more rest, husband. The pre-watch brief for the four-to-eight watch is not very far off, and tomorrow will be a busy day.”
“You’re not wrong,” he admitted with a shrug, “but I know we’re almost to Mars, and I wanted to be on the bridge when we start the survey. I’m sure it’ll be pretty boring, so I’ll head back to grab some more rack time soon.” Leaning forward, he kissed her, then stepped back and opened the hatch for her, admiring her ass from behind as she stepped onto the bridge ahead of him.
Moments later, the hatch opened again, and the other members of watch crew Zulu came in – short two members, due to McKenzie’s and Shune’s treachery, but still wanting to keep their core unit.
As the UI watch team began conducting their turnover, D’narius approached Pheebs, nodding briefly to Dutch before she gave a quick turnover to the other woman. “We are approaching Mars and should be in visual range within a few moments. You should be able to establish a low orbit for a planetary survey within the next thirty minutes unless you delay overlong at the moons to inspect them. Long-range scans detected no signs of life on Phobos or Demos. Just massive structural damage evident on each.”
Nodding, Pheebs acknowledged the status and replied, “Understood. I relieve you.”
“I stand relieved,” D’narius sighed, stifling a yawn. “I’m going to grab a bite at the debriefing, then hit the rack.” Turning to eye Dutch, she inquired, “See you soon, dear?”
“Most likely,” he admitted. “I just wanted to see what I failed to check last time. I doubt there’s much here, so I’ll probably be down to our quarters shortly.”
Looking around, she leaned up to him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, then left the bridge, followed almost immediately by the off-going watch standers from crew Yankee.
Pheebs stepped over near the command chair to address Lt. Galt, the UI OOD. “Lieutenant, steady as she goes. Take us all the way to a low orbit. Maintain Stealth Screens, have your team perform a passive planetary scan of the surface. I advise you to assist with the survey at the Science station, given that your team is shorthanded.”
Nodding at her suggestion, Galt turned his attention to the helmsman. “Helm, bring us into a low orbit.” Turning to address Lt. Torres, his Operations officer, he said, “OPS, maintain our Stealth Screens, and prepare to commence the passive planetary survey.” Standing behind the command chair, he added, “Keep one eye on long-range sensors, and let me know should any company suddenly decide to join us.”
Runnir Ironheart acknowledged his orders from HELM, and Engela Torres did the same from OPS.
From her position at the NAV station, Josifin Perlstein announced, “We are now entering orbit around Mars.”
“No sign of any vessels in the system,” Torres confirmed from OPS. “Commencing planetary survey scans.”
Dutch had been watching as they approached Mars with some confusion, though he kept his questions to himself. The planet, once rusty orange and red, now appeared cloud-covered and similar to Earth. He observed a greenish-hued mass of water covering a great deal of the northern hemisphere and sprawling land masses, with large swaths of green and brown dominating the southern hemisphere. He held himself still, not daring to get his hopes up.
The Odyssey descended low enough to brush, ever so lightly, against the thin, irradiated atmosphere of Mars, its hull glowing with the heat sporadically as it skimmed across the planet’s atmosphere. Dutch silently kept watch on the main viewscreens, his eyes scanning the barren landscape that unfolded before him. He was surprised to observe that Mars, by all appearances, had once been a thriving biosphere teeming with life but now lay in a state of desolate decay.
“Scanners are successfully mapping multiple features from the planet’s surface, which align with previous records,” Galt called out from where he now stood at the science station. “We are gathering an enormous amount of data.”
As the ship continued along its path, Dutch noticed the skeletal remains of what had been metropolitan Martian cities, their once-grand architecture now reduced to crumbling, twisted ruins. The nuclear bombardment had left behind ghost towns, with structures partially buried in the scorched sand and glassy remnants of melted rock.
The surface passing below them was scarred with vast craters and irradiated wastelands. Sensors, recording details incessantly, confirmed dangerous levels of radiation in certain areas. Sporadic pockets of geography contained higher pockets of rad counts, occasionally resulting in a scintillating display as the ship’s shielding shunted the ionized particles aside.
They had been conducting their survey for nearly half an hour when they received a surprise. Despite the radiation, it seemed that life had found a way to persist. Patches of mutated flora clung to the edges of craters, their vibrant, otherworldly colors contrasting starkly with the barren surroundings. Strange, resilient fauna scurried about – creatures twisted by radiation that had adapted to survive in the harsh environment.
Continued scans revealed the presence of small, isolated, shielded valleys and hinted at the presence of subterranean caverns free from the harsh presence of radiation. Regions which, conceivably, could contain remnants of the pre-war biosphere. What could be observed of these pockets showcased what Mars had once been – a lush, green haven with diverse ecosystems. The crew marveled at the sight of bioluminescent plants and water sources that had somehow escaped contamination.
Elsewhere, the signs of the war were much more present. The wreckage of advanced technology lay scattered across the surface, remnants of the final battle. Downed spacecraft, shattered drones, and dormant or destroyed defensive systems dotted the landscape.
Dutch covered his face with his hands, shielding his eyes from what was on the main screen. It shook him to the core to see so plainly the impact that must have been terrible to those who’d been here, a horrible ending to a once-vibrant life. Once again, he found himself questioning his path, renewed doubt plaguing his choice to perpetrate what history might someday consider the greatest of galactic frauds, wondering if his pursuit of peace with the iShan’tal remained the right course of action in the face of the destruction they had wrought.
The Odyssey had completed a half-dozen orbits of Mars, with many yet to come before the survey would be finished, when Dutch sighed heavily, both awed and melancholy at what they had found thus far. Recalling that he would have watch again in less than seven hours, he made to exit the bridge to grab some rack time, or perhaps some intimate time with one or more of his wives, when Galt gasped in shock from his console.
“Captain,” the young lieutenant began, pausing a moment before he continued, his tone edged with excitement. “We are picking up very, very faint traces of power emanating from what appear to be some kind of constructs below the surface. The ship’s scanners are unable to penetrate very deep beneath the surface, and can only confirm the presence of man-made structures, but I am definitely reading very low levels of power.”
Dutch turned back, moving now to stand beside his trainee at the science station, awaiting additional data, thoughts of rest dismissed by sudden hope.
“The best I can make out,” the young officer lamented, after repeatedly adjusting his lenses of observation, “is that a massive complex of subterranean structures stretches for miles below the terrain in this region. Based on the rad levels, this area was not directly bombed and has only been subjected to the resulting planetary fallout, rather than having been specifically targeted. I cannot ascertain with any confidence whether or not there are survivors from passive scans alone, sir. Request permission to launch probes for a better look.”
Dutch straightened for a moment, thinking back to events at Ganymede. After a brief period of consideration, his shoulders sagged slightly, and he shook his head negatively. “Request denied, Mr. Galt,” he said with a slight catch in his voice. “We are under strict EMCON on this mission, and I cannot risk what might happen if our presence should somehow become known to the iShan’tal before we have completed our mission to apprise them of the treaty.”
Turning, he headed back to the hatch, looking over his shoulder to Pheebs with pain in his eyes. “Continue passive survey. Be sure to annotate any additional such structures, if you should identify any, but at all costs, maintain our stealth.”
Stepping through the hatch, Dutch departed the bridge. Looking from where his Captain had just been to where Commander Pheebs stood, Galt could not help but express his frustration. “I don’t understand, Commander. We’re right here! It would be a minor effort on our part to confirm the presence of survivors! Why won’t the Captain let us?”
“Because, Mr. Galt,” Pheebs explained with a sharp edge to her response, “the Captain desires for the presence of any survivors to remain unknown to the iShan’tal.”
Moving from her command chair to stand back by the science station, she continued her explanation. “The last time we were in this system, we were largely ignorant of the status of affairs with respect to hostilities with the iShan’tal. We encountered a slight energy reading down on Ganymede, so we took the shuttlecraft down to investigate. Before we could complete our mission and return to the ship, Prime informed us that a trio of warships had jumped into the system and were heading our way. We’d left the Odyssey with her Stealth Screens up, or I am sure they’d have immediately targeted her and attacked. As it was, they failed to detect our shuttle craft before we returned to the ship, but we had alerted them to our presence nonetheless. The ships closed in on Ganymede, and while we departed to avoid detection, they nuked the dead city we’d just visited from orbit, just to ensure nothing was there.”
Passing a slow, careful glance around the four members of the UI watch team, Pheebs could see the shock registering on all of their faces.
“So,” Runnir Ironheart posited, “if we were to send out a probe, or go down there for a closer look, we could end up endangering those people…”
“Precisely,” Pheebs hissed through clenched teeth. “So, rather than confirm our suspicions and inadvertently summon the iShan’tal, the Captain chooses to protect them as best he can. Let’s lift the Odyssey up just a bit, Mr. Ironheart. No need to leave any ion trails or other trace of our presence here. I’d hate for any of the survivors below to detect our presence here and try to…”
Lt. Galt cut her off, “Sir, I am detecting emanations of energy from the planet below. Someone down there may have seen our light show as we skimmed the atmosphere, as there is something like our targeting LIDAR sweeping the area we just passed.”
Tapping her comm badge, Pheebs asked in a terse voice, “Prime, can you tell how far these emanations are reaching out into space from the surface below?”
“The effective range of the targeting systems appears to be just short of the level of the planet’s natural satellites, Commander,” the ship’s AI responded quickly, “however, it is undetermined from how far off they might be detected by iShan’tal listening posts.”
“Increase our orbit by another ten thousand kilometers, Mr. Ironheart, and be prepared to break orbit,” Pheebs snapped decisively. “Lt. Galt, discontinue the planetary survey immediately and pick up your long-range scanning of the system. Lt. Torres, monitor those emissions from the planet and let me know if you detect any additional activity. Look sharp, people. We may have company on the way.”
The bridge crew maintained a vigilant state for the next thirty minutes or so, monitoring all sensors, alert for the possibility of an iShan’tal response. After thirty minutes had passed with no sign of response, Pheebs relaxed.
“Lt. Galt, Lt. Torres, any further emissions from the planet?” she asked, wanting to ensure that no further activity had followed the initial probing.
“Nothing, sir. I have detected no further targeting emissions, nor have I detected any other emissions anywhere on the EM spectrum beyond the background radiation,” Galt replied.
“Same here, sir,” Torres confirmed.
Deciding this was not a matter that should wait, Pheebs tapped her comm badge, “Bridge to Captain.”
After a moment, her badge chirped in response, “Captain here. What is it?”
“Captain, we detected a form of radar emitting briefly from the planet’s surface. It’s possible that we may have left an observable trail in the sky, as we were low enough to skim the upper atmosphere. In all likelihood, we would have appeared as a meteorite. Whether this was an automated or guided action is unclear. Emissions have since stopped. I’ve taken us to a higher orbit, and we’ve been monitoring long-range scans, but thus far see no indication of any iShan’tal response.”
After a brief pause, Dutch responded, “Understood, Commander. Please have NAV set a course to head toward the graveyard. Let’s leave Mars for now, before we accidentally trigger an incident that endangers any possible survivors.”
“Aye, aye, sir. Bridge out.” She tapped her comm badge, terminating the connection.
“Lt. Galt, can you please locate the closest edge to the graveyard of ships, based on our present position, and provide those coordinates to NAV?” Pheebs requested of Galt, as he was still manning the science station.
“NAV, as soon as you have those coordinates, please plot a course to that location,” she continued, keen to observe her watch team as it processed the request.
In short order, she observed a telltale flash on the navigation console, and Lt. Perlstein moved adeptly to lay in a change of course that would take them away from Mars, and onward to the massive field of drifting wreckage, remnants of the desperate Terran last stand from a century prior. In a few short moments, a holographic display of the new course appeared on the main screen.
“Course laid in, sir,” Perlstein confirmed.
“Very good, NAV,” Pheebs acknowledged. “HELM, please assume the new course, speed set at one-quarter standard.”
“On course, ahead one-quarter,” the helmsman replied, checking his instruments before adding, “We should arrive at our next destination in just over ten hours.
The tension on the bridge slowly dissipated, as they allowed themselves to relax. The thrill of what they’d potentially discovered had been quickly overshadowed by the risk that the Odyssey’s presence represented. Each of the watch standers was keenly aware of how close they’d come to jeopardizing the lives of any survivors, based on how the iShan’tal had reacted to a similar incident during Odyssey’s last visit to this region.
****0730 Ship’s Time, Day 56****
Dutch reviewed the sensor data from the limited survey that had been performed the day prior over Mars. He was very intrigued at the amount of life that the scans had indicated was present on the planet. Clearly, Mars had some surviving life forms – plant and animal – but it remained to be seen just how damaged or otherwise altered they’d been due to long-term radiation exposure.
More importantly, though, were the indications that there might be human survivors. Scans showed the presence of what appeared to be a vast subterranean structure, and historical records indicated that many such structures had been built and occupied over the centuries while the surface was undergoing the alterations necessary to terraform the planet’s ecosphere. The possibility that some unknown number of humans might have survived the bombing - and then the decades of fallout that followed - was tantalizing to him.
Dutch sighed to himself, turning away from the view screen at the auxiliary console he’d been occupying to examine the UI watch crew. He’d tasked them with a harvesting job as they passed near a few asteroids, then ran them through a combat simulation. Those activities had consumed the bulk of the watch. Now, he contented himself with observing them as they dealt with the boring routine of watching glass as nothing amazing happened.
Crew X-ray was becoming quite proficient. Prine Diamonte was definitely a cool-headed leader – her tour as OOD had gone smoothly, and she’d capably addressed the various challenges that Dutch had tossed at her and her team. Eyeing her from the side, he couldn’t help but contemplate her lineage – she had an interesting blending of Mediterranean and Indian features, from the aquiline nose to the caramel skin coloration, the large brown eyes and thin lips, quick to smile. It amazed him what nearly eleven centuries of cultural blending could accomplish.
From his position at the science station, Lt. Tomson Earhart reported, “We should be coming into visual range of the graveyard within the next few seconds.”
Glancing back to nod at him, Lt. Diamonte calmly uttered, “Put it on screen,” then faced forward and folded her hands calmly in her lap.
A distant ribbon of dots stretched away from them on the screen. Earhart touched a control on his panel, and the image magnified substantially, revealing the anomaly in greater clarity. The vast expanse between Mars and Jupiter had been largely devoid of anything noteworthy, save for the occasional asteroid, but the scene ahead of them definitely qualified as interesting.
“HELM,” Diamonte commanded, “adjust our course to bring us along the edge of the graveyard – I’d like to assess its scope as we approach.”
“Aye, sir, adjusting our heading two points to starboard,” Lt. Rama Chandrani affirmed, her fingers dancing deftly across her controls.
Dutch considered Chandrani for a moment – her name would have hinted at an Indian heritage, but her features were heavily influenced by genetics originating from South Africa. He shook his head gently again – so very fascinating how humans blend when political barriers are removed.
“I am detecting wreckage from a vast number of vessels, sir,” Lt. Earhart announced. “The debris field stretches on for more than a thousand kilometers in length and nearly half again that in width.”
Dutch waited to see if the young officer would notice what he’d observed last time he’d been here.
“Curious,” Earhart muttered, almost to himself. “The depth of the debris field is less than fifty kilometers, suggesting a highly two-dimensional approach by both sides.”
Dutch grinned to himself – these kids held some promise, in spite of their relative inexperience in such matters as space combat. Unable to let the possible teaching moment pass, Dutch spoke aloud to the UI crew, “That’s an interesting assessment, Lt. Earhart. How might we apply this knowledge to our advantage in the future?”
The young lieutenant appeared to give this question some thought. He was just about to answer when Lt. Chandrani interrupted, “Humans had been a space-faring race for millennia, and the iShan’tal for much longer. Both fleets appear to have preferred to maintain some navigational affinity that was in alignment with the system ecliptic. This suggests a predisposition that might be exploited in the event of some future conflict with either race, and potentially with any other, should a similar behavior be observed.”
“Interesting choice of words, Chandrani,” Dutch mused, scratching at his beard. “I couldn’t help but hear you suggest we might have a future conflict with other humans.”
“I have paid close attention to your lessons, Captain,” the young woman replied fearlessly, “and you have a good point when you suggest that the Terran Empire might not have been the ‘good guys’ during our conflict with the iShan’tal, and that it is certainly possible that some number of the remaining Terran colonies may have developed differently than ours during this past century of isolation.”
“Ten Points for Hufflepuff!” Dutch exclaimed with amusement, clapping his hands.
Chandrani looked like she wanted to follow up with Dutch on his remark when the hatch opened, and Crew Yankee began to file onto the bridge to conduct watch relief. Whatever question or comment Chandrani had would need to wait.
Jjan’tira was the last to enter, closing the hatch behind her as she considered the view on the screen with a mixed expression.
Dutch eyed her with curiosity as she turned to approach him. “Good morning, Lieutenant. Are you feeling well?”
She shrugged, then shook her head slightly. Jabbing her thumb over her shoulder, toward the main screen, she explained, “I haven’t looked upon that scene since I was a trainee just reporting to the K’vetch 581. Of course,” she shrugged, releasing a sigh and relaxing her shoulders slightly, “that seems many lifetimes removed, not simply a couple of years ago.”
Touching her briefly on the shoulder, he decided not to press. Switching gears, he instead opted to give her a simple turnover, so that she could assume the watch and, hopefully, get back to feeling normal. “Odyssey is on final approach to the battle site. Have your watch crew engage in a survey of the site in its entirety, but I advise we maintain a safe distance. I’d hate for us to accidentally trigger some long-dormant ordinance.”
“Very good, sir,” she replied. “Upon completion of the survey, what did you have planned for us to do next?”
Dutch didn’t need any time to consider that point. “As soon as we wrap up this survey, let’s get out of this system altogether. I’d like us to return to where we encountered the Oo’lan’Dang. We need to make an appearance in that sector to reinforce the pretext that we are patrolling the region, and it wouldn’t hurt to stretch our legs a bit. Also, once we jump out of this system, I think we can run openly for a bit. Questions?”
“Nothing I can ask you in front of the trainees, sir,” she grinned, looking at him with mischief in her eyes.
“There’s my gal,” he whispered, leaning in close to give her a quick kiss.
“I have the watch,” she said, teasing him with her eyes.
“I stand relieved,” he replied, then turned and left the bridge, followed by the members of Crew X-Ray. As they headed for the briefing room for the post-watch debriefing, he found himself idly wondering what the ladies had cooked up for lunch that day.
*****
Back on the bridge, Jjan’tira took a seat at the same auxiliary station that Dutch had been using, allowing her UI watch crew to get settled in. She watched as Lt. Jandile Cyara parsed through the previous watch’s logs, then stood from the command chair and stepped back to where Jjan’tira sat observing her. Cyara was a tall woman, her skin tone a smooth olive hue, with her dark hair gathered into a simple ponytail. Jjan’tira knew the woman was athletic, as she’d joined her a few times for unarmed combat training on the fitness deck. She was a quick learner, as well, easily picking up the various offensive and defensive movements during their training sessions.
Jjan’tira’s thoughts were interrupted by the young trainee clearing her throat, then asking, “What are our orders for this watch, Lieutenant?”
“See that mess of wreckage out there?” Jjan’tira waved her hand obliquely toward the viewscreen. “Your task for this watch is to perform a passive survey – no drones – of the entire mass. Maintain Stealth throughout the duration, and advise the helm to keep our distance, in case any munitions remain viable.”
“Scan the wreckage, maintain EMCON, maintain Stealth, keep our distance, Aye,” the young trainee summarized. “Anything I need to be wary of?”
“Hmmm,” Jjan’tira considered, “aside from the several hundred thousand ghosts, possible live ordinance, ever-present threat of encountering iShan’tal? I can’t think of anything else.”
Grinning tightly, the young trainee turned to her weapons officer. “Lt. Ironheart, I sincerely hope we won’t be needing weapons today. Could you perhaps assist Lt. Abrams with cataloging the data we gather from the scans?”
Lt. Jontalla Ironheart nodded, “Of course, sir. It will be my pleasure.”
Jjan’tira watched the trainee at WEPS calmly reconfigure her console to emulate the science station’s controls, then began to compose a number of scans. Ironheart turned to Abrams and whispered, “Anything special you want me to focus on?”
Abrams stepped over so he could speak softly to her. “I’m set to grab the bulk data – hull classes, ship’s registry information, evidence of any remaining power, evidence of life, that stuff. Maybe see if you can grab some of the finer details, like anything on the smaller craft – the fighters, if enough recognizable remains exist, the type of damage sustained, I don’t know – I’ve never done this before, either!”
Jjan’tira grinned at the man’s last comment. This was not her first time visiting this area, but in her previous role, they’d never been curious to discover what they could learn. So, this was her first time conducting such a survey as well. ‘Probably not wise to share’ she thought to herself.
At the helm station, Lt. Edmund Piccolo adjusted their flight path to take them above the plane of the battle, moving the Odyssey into a position to pass overhead, along the line of combat, enabling them to observe both sides equally.
As the Odyssey passed above the scene, the crew beheld a haunting sight. Hundreds of mammoth warships floated silently in the void, their hulks twisted and scarred from the battle that had raged more than a century ago. The skeletal remains of the ships were a testament to the ferocity of the conflict. No quarter had been given.
Knowing the futility and redundancy of the command, Lt. Cyara sighed, “Make sure you’re scanning the area for any signs of life or active technology.”
Ironheart and Abrams each acknowledged the order with a simple “Aye, sir.”
After a few moments, Abrams observed aloud, “The steel-grey ships all seem to be Terran vessels, while those tinged greenish grey all seem to be iShan’tal. So far, I’ve identified three major classes of warships – two heavies on the Terran side, one on the iShan’tal side, along with multiple smaller craft that appear to be picket ships or fighters. The big-boys number in the hundreds, and there are thousands of the small-boys.”
As the Odyssey navigated through the graveyard, the crew marveled at the scale of the destruction. Massive warships, their once-majestic forms now reduced to twisted metal, floating alongside shattered cruisers and disintegrated fighters. The debris field stretched as far as they could see, a silent testament to the brutal stalemate that had taken place. On occasion, they encountered a hull intact enough to observe the variety and complexity of markings covering the intact portions, bright in color and often fierce in composition. These ships must have been an impressive sight indeed!
As the watch wore on, the wreckage beneath them ebbed and flowed, as the battle had done. The crew couldn’t help but feel a sense of reverence for the fallen. The graveyard of ships was a stark reminder of the sacrifices made in the name of survival and the cost of the conflict. Although the battle had ended more than a century ago, its echoes still resonated through the stars.
As the wreckage began to taper off, the end of the graveyard in sight, the oncoming watch team arrived, and the turnover was conducted, with orders to take the ship away from this part of space, and on to new regions, where they could more openly explore.
D’narius accepted the watch from Jjan’tira, then sat to observe as Crew Zulu made the preparations to jump away from this system, so haunting a reminder of their troubled past. Lt. Runnir Ironheart, the fraternal twin of Jontalla Ironheart of Crew Yankee, stood the UI OOD watch. The tall man radiated confidence as he gave orders to Lt. Torres at NAV to lay in a course to Omega Centauri.
As soon as Torres reported the course had been prepared, Ironheart tapped his comm badge and addressed the ship via the 1MC, “All hands, prepare to jump to Omega Centauri.”
Pausing to allow the crew to prepare, he then turned to Lt. Galt at the HELM and ordered, “Mr. Galt, make the jump.”
“Aye, sir,” Galt replied. “Jumping to Omega Centauri.”
A hole opened in space, the stars inside appearing to stretch away, then the image shifted suddenly, and they were elsewhere.
*****
Back on Rigellia, on a remote island, far from civilization, it is the hour of the wolf. Under the cloak of a moonless night, the place lies in eerie silence, a perfect stage set for the impending raid. The special forces team, garbed in cutting-edge stealth gear, merges with the darkness, their movements calculated and silent. Enhanced night-vision optics slice through the shadows, revealing the path ahead with precision.
The team of operators divides into specialized units, each with a clear objective. Drones, as silent as shadows themselves, hover above, providing a bird’s-eye view and feeding crucial data back to the command center. The mission is simple yet perilous: capture a high-value individual nestled within the heavily guarded compound at the island’s core.
As they approach the compound, the cyber-specialists work their magic, neutralizing the security systems with unparalleled skill, leaving no trace of their digital intrusion. The team breaches the outer defenses with the precision of a well-oiled machine. The first encounter with the guards is swift and decisive. Non-lethal weaponry – advanced stun pistols and sonic disrupters – renders the guards unconscious before they can raise the alarm.
Inside the perimeter, the compound is a labyrinth of dimly lit corridors and fortified rooms. Augmented reality overlays on their optics guide the team as they advance. A second group of guards, more alert and better armed, presents a challenge. A brief, intense skirmish ensues. The guards, though well-trained, are no match for the special forces’ superior technology and tactics. The non-lethal engagement leaves the guards incapacitated but unharmed.
Pressing forward, the team navigates the complex interior, the tension palpable. Finally, they reach the high-value target’s location. With practiced ease, they subdue the individual and secure him for extraction.
The retreat is a ballet of precision and silence. Stealth aircraft, equipped with noise-dampening technology, descend like phantoms to whisk the team and their captive away. In a matter of moments, they disappear into the night, leaving behind no trace of their daring raid. The mission, executed with a blend of technology and tactical prowess, is a resounding success.
The team commander turned to their comms operator, “Inform the Chancellor’s Adjutant that we have the Major General.”
*****
