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  “We don’t have several minutes!” interrupted the captain, shouting over the sound of the blaring warning signal. “Just do as I say, no matter what. That’s an order.”

  His eyes darted wildly across the view screen until he spotted the object of his search: a faint whirlpool of cosmic dust surrounding a foreboding dark center. He drew a deep breath as his suspicions were irrefutably confirmed. From the hallway, he heard the hurried approach of footfalls upon the metal deck as the two other crewmembers responded to the alert.

  “What’s going on, Don?” asked a distinctively feminine voice, as the first of the crew arrived. “Are we under attack?”

  The captain glanced over his shoulder at the auburn-haired medical technician. A short, semi-transparent, red teddy lasciviously veiled her petite form.

  “Get locked in, Jackie,” he ordered, once again checking the view screen. “We’re about to make a jump. I’ll explain later, if we survive.”

  “A jump?” exclaimed the second arrival, a young blond-haired man. His attire consisted of a hastily donned space force t-shirt and uniform pants. “Do you realize the dangers in—”

  “I went through that with your computer, Lieutenant Porter,” shouted the commander abruptly. “Just shut up and get strapped in before it’s too late. And shut off that damned siren.”

  “According to my calculations,” reported Nav-Tac as the warning signal ebbed, “we will make contact with the phenomenon in thirty-four seconds at our present rate of acceleration.”

  “What phenomenon?” inquired the lieutenant, taking his place at the tactical control station. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but it was certainly more than he had expected on his first extended mission.

  “A quantum singularity,” the captain informed calmly, “probably a black hole.”

  “We’re going into a black hole?” the mortified rookie lieutenant cried out.

  “Get a hold of yourself, Lieutenant Porter,” reprimanded the female officer from her station on the opposite side of the bridge. She fought desperately to conceal her own fear. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “The captain is correct concerning the quantum singularity,” stated Nav-Tac, doing nothing to alleviate their fears, “and I calculate our chances of escape to be infinitesimal. Given the allotted time, and the gravitational force now being exerted upon it, this vessel has insufficient power to break free.”

  “We still have one chance,” the captain said. “Implement an E-R jump on my signal.”

  “Not possible, Captain Garris,” Nav-Tac retorted. “The wormhole would collapse before we could enter it. Our velocity is not sufficient to make a jump.”

  “It will be,” responded the captain ominously. “It will be.”

  His fingers danced unerringly over the controls which had, through years of familiarity, become virtual extensions of his hands. The neuro-link provided instantaneous confirmation of each of his silent commands. As he had numerous times before, the captain realized his next action could be his last. His timing would have to be near perfect, as there was little room for error.

  “Alea iacta est,” he muttered quietly to himself, as his nightmares closed in around him and, in a potentially final act of desperation, he activated the ship’s interstellar ramjets, propelling the Nova straight toward the heart of the dark star.

  CHAPTER 2: Awakening

  At first there was only darkness and numbness, but as the captain struggled to regain full consciousness, the darkness gave way to a pale crimson glow, and the numbness gave way to searing needles of pain surging through his entire body.

  The bridge was illuminated by the blood red glow of the emergency lights through a hazy shroud of thick, lingering smoke. The hot stifling air carried the putrid stench of burning plastic and silicone, nearly causing him to retch. It reminded him of a description he had once read in a book; a description of Hell.

  Closing his eyes, the captain drew a slow deep breath, nearly choking on the smoke, and concentrated on suppressing the pain, as his mental discipline training had taught him. Slowly, the intense agony diminished to a dull ache, and he opened his eyes again to survey his surroundings.

  The main view screen that comprised most of the front bulkhead of the bridge was dark. Blank panels, screens, and status displays stared up at him from the fire-scorched control console before him; all of the instruments were dead. Shaking his head despondently, he counted himself lucky that the safety override had severed the neuro-link with the ship; otherwise, his nervous system would have been in the same condition as the ship’s instrumentation. As it was, he could still feel the pinpricks of pain, much like the sensation of moving a limb after it had fallen asleep, in every nerve of his body.

  He listened for the dull throb of the engines, but the only sounds were the sharp crackle of electricity, his own labored breathing, and convulsive coughing from somewhere behind him.

  With a groan, Captain Garris leaned forward against his restraining harness and released the latch. As he began slowly drifting away from the chair, he silently cursed himself for not realizing there was no gravity. Had the gravity inducers been functioning, the smoke would have hovered at the ceiling rather than being evenly dispersed throughout the room. He found some comfort in that, as he steadied himself against the instrument panel. Though he had no idea if the ship was moving or not, the absence of gravity indicated the ship was not in close proximity to a massive stellar body. They had escaped the black hole. Satisfied the vessel was in no immediate catastrophic danger, he turned his attention to the other two crewmembers.

  On the port side of the bridge, at the monitor and communications station, First Lieutenant Jacqueline Monet leaned forward in her chair with her face buried in her hands, issuing low coughs. Her long, auburn hair danced lazily about her in the gravity-free chamber, like seaweed wafting in a gentle ocean current. A member of the first crew under his command, the petite, twenty-five-year-old French-Canadian had requested, and was granted, assignment as the ship’s doctor upon graduation from the academy. During her four-year tour of duty aboard the Nova, her responsibilities expanded to encompass those of the communications officer as well as medical technician. In the intervening years, she had grown to be one of the captain’s closest and most trusted friends.

  Across the bridge, at the navigation and tactical control center, Second Lieutenant Willard Porter swayed limply within the constraints of his safety harness, his arms drifting freely about him. His blond-haired head bobbed gently, indicating that, though unconscious, he was breathing steadily. A member of the Research and Development department of the United System’s Space Force, the twenty-three-year-old’s first off-world mission was to monitor and maintain the prototype artificial agent he had helped design: Nav-Tac. Assigned to the Nova solely because of his familiarity with the project, he seemed more at home in a lab than on a space-faring vessel. Since joining the crew at the onset of their current mission, the captain couldn’t recall more than a handful of conversations with the young systems analyst.

  Captain Garris breathed a sigh of relief, thankful his crew had apparently fared better than his ship. Urging his aching muscles once more into action, he steadily edged his way along the perimeter of the semi-circular bridge, past the darkened auxiliary control panel, to the communication station where the senior lieutenant sat.

  Kneeling beside her, the captain secured himself to her chair with one hand, and tenderly touched her bare shoulder with the other. The sheer red lace of her negligee glowed like a beacon in the emergency lights. “Jackie?” he asked. “Are you all right?”

  Her head slowly rose until the gaze of her emerald eyes met his. A pained expression debased the picturesque lines of her sharp features. “I think so,” she replied softly, “but I can’t remember ever hurting this much before. What happened?”

  “I’m not sure,” he responded, gazing at the still smoldering communications panels. “The engines have stopped and the gravity inducers are out. About
the only things still working are the emergency systems. We’ve taken a lot of damage, but at least we’re alive for the time being.”

  “Space Force Control isn’t going to like this,” she said. “They just spent all that time and money refitting the ship, and you’ve broken it again.”

  “I’m pretty good at breaking things,” he said dourly.

  “Are you okay, Don?” she asked compassionately, noting the uncharacteristic trembling in his hand and the slight quiver in his voice. Her concern went beyond that of a medical officer for her captain. They had known each other for several years and been through many adversities together. Her concern was for her friend. “You seem pretty badly shaken up.”

  “I just relived a nightmare I would rather have forgotten,” he answered, “but otherwise I’m as well as can be expected for someone who nearly had every nerve in his body fried. By the way,” he added, his gaze dropping to avoid her knowing stare, “that ‘uniform’ isn’t regulation.”

  She saw through his poor attempt at changing the subject through levity, but thought it best to leave the matter alone. She knew which nightmare he was referring to; she had lived it as well. “I’ll do anything if you promise not to write me up,” she said seductively, knowing that her dalliances would have no effect on the captain. She had discovered that shortly after they had met, when her flirtations were not so frivolous. Though she had always secretly desired more, she long ago resigned herself to the fact that they would never be more than friends.

  “I’ll let it slide this time,” he said, showing a hint of a smile. It was a sight not often seen. His stony face was typically somber, seemingly incapable of any other expression. “If you’re okay, I’ll go check on Porter.”

  Nodding, and wincing as she did, Jackie motioned him away. “I just need a few minutes to recover.” she assured. “Trust me, I’m a doctor.”

  Convinced she was uninjured, the captain steadied himself for the journey across the bridge. Though experienced in zero gravity mobility techniques, the soreness of his limbs hindered his progress. He pushed off from the communications station and glided the width of the bridge. Reaching the navigational control station, he steadied himself on the junior officer’s chair and paused momentarily to repress the renewed pain.

  Porter’s condition was unchanged; his unconscious form still drifted gracelessly within the improperly secured safety harness. Sweat matted his straight blond hair to his head, and droplets beaded off his youthful face.

  “Lieutenant,” the captain said sharply, grasping the front of the young man’s shirt and easing him back into the chair. “Can you hear me?”

  The crewman groaned and his eyelids slowly parted. “Are we still alive?” he asked weakly, bringing both hands to his throbbing head.

  “For now,” replied the commander impassively. His sullen mask was once again firmly in place. “Are you hurt?”

  “Yes,” came the pain-laden reply. “Everywhere.”

  “It helps to get up and move around,” lied the captain. “Besides, we have a lot of work to do.”

  As his gaze drifted from the captain to the empty frame where the volumetric display was normally projected, Porter’s eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped. With a painful jerk, his attention shot toward the emitter above which Nav-Tac’s image normally hovered. “Nav-Tac, respond,” he cried. “What happened to him?” Porter demanded.

  “Take it easy,” Captain Garris said, momentarily thrown off balance by the lieutenant’s sudden forward lurch. “That’s the least of our worries right now.”

  “Least of our worries?” bellowed the young man, gesturing emphatically at the inert panel, again causing the captain to steady himself on the chair. “This is my life’s work. Do you realize how much time I’ve put into this project?”

  “Look, lieutenant,” the captain said, a definite edge to his tone, “most of the ship’s primary circuits have been overloaded and burned out. There’s no telling how long the emergency power generators will hold up, and, for all I know, we may still be in the vicinity of that black hole. Now tell me which is more important, our lives or your computer?”

  “But sir,” he protested, “Nav-Tac isn’t just a ‘computer’. He’s the first semi-sentient electrochemical hybrot ever developed. He’s the greatest breakthrough in cybernetics since Potter’s mouse. He—”

  “Perhaps you didn’t understand me,” interrupted the commander. His voice deepened, and carried an unmistakable air of authority. He had better things to do than argue with an insubordinate rookie, and thought it best to put him in his place quickly. Rookies were second on his dislike list, following computers. “This ship is primarily powered by an antimatter reaction. If the power goes out to the containment field, it collapses and we become little more than widely scattered atoms. When they christened this ship the Nova, I don’t think that’s what they had in mind. Furthermore,” he continued, as the lieutenant opened his mouth to protest again, “you may have been a whiz-kid back at Wardenclyffe, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re just another wet-behind-the-ears cadet. I never asked for you or your aberrant monstrosity aboard my ship, but as long as you’re under my command, you’ll follow my orders and keep your mouth shut.”

  “Well,” Porter huffed, tugging unsuccessfully at the safety harness release catch with pain-numbed fingers. He wasn’t accustomed to being addressed in that tone of voice, and it infuriated him. “Your ship was the only one available at the time of the project’s completion; and, after what happened to the system analyst on your last mission, sir, I’m not all that thrilled at having been assigned to your command.”

  The captain’s eyes narrowed in rage at the mention of his previous mission. He felt his chest tighten as he spoke through clenched teeth. “The only reason you’re here is that your father had you assigned to the Nova. It was the most miserable job available, and he figured you would quit the Space Force and come running home after your first mission.”

  “How dare you insinuate my father got me this assignment,” Porter protested. “I worked hard to get where I am.”

  “All that money,” the commander scoffed. “And you didn’t even bother buying yourself a clue.”

  Both men were deadlocked, eye-to-eye in an incisive stare down. For the captain, looking away would demean his authority; for the lieutenant, it would diminish his dignity. Neither was willing to compromise his values. The tension grew thicker than the surrounding air when another voice resounded through the smoky haze.

  “Stop it! Both of you,” Lieutenant Monet shouted, drawing the attention of both men. She had released her restraints and held herself in a standing position next to her chair. “We’re drifting dead in space, and you two sit there bickering like a couple of spoiled children. I don’t know about you, but I would like to get the ship repaired so we can get home. So, stow the testosterone and you can kill each other later.”

  After a moment of silent self-communing, the captain cast a scowl of contempt at Porter. Shoving off against the chair, he drifted toward the hallway at the aft of the bridge. “I’ll be in the engineering section, trying to get primary power back on-line” he scowled, as he skillfully maneuvered through the gravity free chamber. He wasn’t about to give the rookie the satisfaction of knowing how much pain he was in by letting it hinder his movements. “Try to get some of this mess cleaned up before I get back.”

  Porter shied away from the female lieutenant’s accusing stare, as the ship grew increasingly quiet. Despite her small stature, the scantily clad med-tech was frighteningly intimidating. His pale face flushed in embarrassment, though it didn’t show in the dull red light. He felt foolish for having lost his temper, but he resented being treated like a child. He had gotten enough of that at home. It seemed to Porter he was a pariah to all save his closest friends. In college, his academic peers openly accused him of buying off his instructors to gain higher marks. Though he suspected his father used his influence to get him into the finest schools, he had worked diligent
ly for his grades, and graduated at the top of his class. At the military research facility, his project team disliked him because of his youth and exceptional aptitude. It wasn’t his fault he possessed a higher than normal intelligence and keen insight when it came to cyber intelligence systems. Here, aboard the Nova, the captain resented him simply because he was a rookie. It wasn’t fair, and he silently vowed to prove himself to all of those who estranged him.

  “Well,” he said, finally getting the safety harness unlatched, “I guess I’d better get to work before Captain Cranky gets back.”

  CHAPTER 3: Spectres

  Replacing the hatch control panel cover, Captain Garris steadied himself against the Bulkhead and stared intently at the thick metal door separating him from the engineering section of the ship. It would seem to anyone observing him that he was trying to peer through the hatch and into the room beyond. Hesitantly, he extended his quivering hand toward the biometric security scanner, pausing centimeters away as though an unseen resistance field had stopped him. His pulse quickened, his forehead beaded with cool perspiration, and an unswallowable lump rose to his throat. Even with no gravity, bypassing the control's damaged circuitry was easy; moving his hand the last few centimeters was exponentially more difficult. Drawing a deep breath and holding it, he gathered his resolve and touched the scanner.

  The door slid slowly aside, unleashing a dense cloud of black smoke and a wave of equally dark memories. This was the first time he had been to this part of the ship since….

  It seemed as though only a short time had passed, though, in fact, it had been half a year since his previous mission aboard the Nova. Still, the spectres of the past haunted the ship and his nightmares. His vision blurred as his mind conjured up vivid images of the ill-fated mission.

  It was one of his many hellish nightmares that drove him from his cabin, to the quiet solitude of the bridge that fateful night. Making a routine check of the instruments, he confirmed the data-five navigational computer had the ship on course, and precisely on schedule. The re-entry to normal space was only moments away; after which, one more jump would have them at their destination. At least the tension on board would ease after the sensitive cargo they were carrying was safely delivered.