They were inside the Control Ship.
Nathan shifted panels and frantically closed the breakers to the laser capacitor banks, trying to bring the lasers back online. Where they had been operational but useless before, though, now all he saw were red status icons. During the moment of discontinuity, not only had the ship been captured and secured, but the lasers had been either physically disabled or removed.
Nathan checked the railgun, and found much the same story. He shook his head and secured their capacitor banks once more.
Following that, he reset the internal comms system and called Edwards’ pod. “COB, Captain. I’ve got us stable for the moment, but we’ve got some work to do if we’re going to last beyond a few hours. And the situation up here is … unsettling.”
Edwards’ voice crackled back into his ear. “Roger that, Skipper. Hey, I had a couple more of those whiteout moments. Any idea what’s going on with them?”
Nathan frowned. “Yeah, I’ve got an idea, but I don’t like it. It plays into our situation up here. How many of the crew do we have?”
“The XO’s still touching base with his half, but pod-to-pod works for everyone I called, and the general net came online right before you called me.”
“Right,” Nathan said. “I reset the comm system from my regular panel. Those are still working. In fact, why don’t you have everyone crack their pods, and we’ll go back to standard ops. Or as standard as it’s going to get with the current situation.”
“Aye aye. I’ll see you in a second.”
Nathan continued checking out the status of the ship, and scrolling through the cameras out to the interior of the alien vessel. No Deltans presented themselves, at least not in any sort of recognizable form. The amber-glowing interior of the Control Ship was made up of silvery braces, gossamer webs of fine wire, articulated cables, black humps, and strangely shaped protrusions of multicolored, glossy material, blinking lights, and a thousand other things of unknown function, purpose, or design. He shook his head in wonder, still fascinated with the idea of their first contact, even though the reality of it had proved less than ideal.
Pods began to open, returning everyone’s acceleration couches to their usual positions. Nathan released his straps and pulled himself up and over to Christopher Wright, whose suit and helmet steamed with evaporating gel. He reached out and clasped hands with his XO.
Wright smiled tightly at him, his eyes full of concern. “Captain, any sign of the engineering hull?”
“Yes, I saw it. It looked intact, but where it is now, I have no idea. We seem to be inside the Control Ship, so I imagine Kris and the others are inside here somewhere as well.”
“Inside? Have the aliens made any attempt at communicating with us?”
“No, not that I’ve been aware of. They put some sort of framework around the two halves of the ship, and then they moved us in during those weird breaks in reality, but I haven’t seen or heard from anyone or anything.”
Wright grimaced. “Yes, I’d noticed those, but I didn’t know what to make of them.”
Nathan was about to respond when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Edwards floated at his side, having returned from checking on the other Bridge watchstanders. Nathan smiled and shook his Master Chief’s hand.
He turned back to Wright and then went on. “I think the Deltans can manipulate our sense of time somehow. When each of those discontinuities occurs, things change up or shift all of a sudden. I have no idea how it’s done, but I think they’re putting us into some sort of stasis, freezing us in place while they move us around. Maybe the light gets brighter because even though we’re moving at a much slower rate, the light is still being emitted normally, so it looks brighter to us.”
Wright frowned. “Or it’s being slowed down as well, but we’re seeing all the wavelengths at once, even the ones outside our normal visual spectrum. Blue shifting thermal radiation into our visible range?”
Edwards shook his head. “Hey, yeah, or maybe we’re seeing all the dust sprinkled by the Sandman. Listen, those sorts of details aren’t really our primary concern at the moment, sirs. What matters is, if what you’re saying is right, the Deltans can freeze us and do whatever they want at their leisure. How do we defend against that?”
Nathan shrugged. “I haven’t a clue, but I know the Deltans are mindful of our defenses.” He told them about the disabled weapon systems, and what he planned to do with their capacitor banks in order to keep the ship running for a while.
Wright nodded. “All right, Captain. That could work. But, if we’re going to have to rewire the power system and re-air the ship, we need to begin immediately, before our suit air runs out.”
“And patch up any breaches from the battle,” Edwards added. “Not only do we not want our atmo venting out, we don’t want any of whatever the Deltan’s breathe getting in.”
Nathan frowned. “This would be a lot easier if we had the engineers with us.” There was more to what he meant, but he did not bother saying it.
Neither of the other men needed to hear him say it. Edwards clasped him on the shoulder again. “I’m sure she and the others are okay, sir. They were just as protected as we were, and if the aft half survived like you said, then they’re going to be fine.”
Wright nodded. “Yes, sir. And they’re going to need air just like we are. The Deltans have yet to show up after bringing us aboard, but keeping us alive is the best sign we’ve had so far. My guess is they’re probably giving us a chance to stabilize ourselves, perhaps so they can bring the crew from the other half of the ship up here.”
Nathan looked doubtful. “I have yet to see anything from these aliens that would lead me to believe they have such a benevolent intent.”
Edwards grinned. “Well, they haven’t broken out the anal probes yet. That’s benevolent enough for the moment.”
Nathan put Edwards in charge of rewiring the power system and Wright on buttoning up the hull. They divided up the four Bridge crew between them and then branched out into the ship, gathering up crewmembers and handing out tasks. Nathan set out by himself, assessing individual systems and battle damage, balancing what they had against the situation they found themselves in.
In terms of balance, there was none. One crewman had died during the battle, at the location of the Deltan laser burn-through. Another five had died after the ship had been cut in half, three due to malfunctioning air systems, and one due to a broken neck. The final death had been hard to explain, until he noticed the empty IV drug reservoirs in her pod. It had malfunctioned, overdosing her on a lethal cocktail of the normally balanced flows of stimulants and depressants used to keep her alive during the extended high acceleration.
Two hours after commencing repairs, the remaining thirteen crewmembers of the Sword of Liberty gathered in the ship’s single mess. Nathan looked around at the assembled spacers. In a space built to hold a crew of 35, and which had supported 30 for a year and a half, thirteen was a depressingly spare assembly. He hoped against forlorn hope that Kris and her engineers were alive, and would soon be with them all here again.
Nathan glanced back at Edwards, who manned the environmental control panel on the aft/dorsal bulkhead of the mess. Those areas of the mission hull that could be properly patched had been. Anyplace too far gone—from either the laser attack or the nanobeam—had been sealed off forever. Now they each felt the air pressure rise in the room, and with it came a rising sense of safety and hope, even though they all knew that the air and power were both depressingly finite.
Edwards finally looked over and nodded to his Captain. Nathan reached up and unsealed his helmet. He removed it and took a deep breath for all to see. Exhaling, he nodded to them all and they each removed their helmets. Edwards did as well, and then wrinkled up his nose. “Damn, you guys smell like shit.”