The Contest (Part 4)

Month 9 Day 9

(Shore Leave Day 10)

1429 Hours

Bugalu

Previously:

He couldn’t think in directions anymore; all he could do was keep his half-planned route in mind and guide the ship [Two ships, not just one. Got to keep that in mind.] for the next asteroid to hide behind for a few seconds. In this way, he hoped to put distance and several asteroids between him and all those other ships.

Sparks flew from the engineering console again, and the lights went out, came back as battery-powered emergency lights, barely bright enough to see his console. Mac was muttering to herself, frantically working inside one panel and then another. YD and Beth were working quietly at their consoles. Beth looked mildly concerned, YD looked... calculating.

Bugalu cut the rockets, fired a few bursts forward and let the tethered ships coast into the pocket between 2 ship-sized asteroids that tumbled around each other. “How bad is it, Mac?”

“What?” She took a frantic glance at her console in surprise. “The engines haven’t blown yet.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Is the tractor beam holding?”

She considered another section of her console. “It’s stable.” She glanced at a small viewscreen that showed her the view outside. “Have we lost them?”

“Don’t know yet. We’ll have to wait and see if they find us. How are the shields?”

“Can I cut them back to normal? The extra boost is a strain on the engines.”

“Will they hold?”

“Ummm, I think so. But keeping them boosted will make repairs harder, if you’ll let me start that.”

“And observation?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I didn’t get to that yet.”

“Return the shields to normal, then, but be ready, in case they find us.”

“I could use a modicum of power,” Beth stated. “I have a dozen... no, 14 patients. The most serious is burns from working too close to the overheating engines.”

“Med bay, then. Oh, and a minimum of life support, if you can. Got that?”

“Yeah, sure.” Mac punched a few buttons and...

The lights went completely out. Even the consoles were dead.

Mac’s voice trembled. “Is that what happens when the engines blow?”

“No, Colleen,” came Smythe’s voice in Bugalu’s right ear. “The game is over.”

“Bugsy?” The lights came back on, and he could see tears in Mac’s eyes. He heard the door behind him open to let them out.

“Game’s over,” he repeated in sudden relief. That was the shortest and strangest game of Survival I’ve ever played. “You all did a great job, like I thought you would. Don’t be surprised if I ask you to be my crew again next time.”

“Next time?” Mac repeated in abject horror.

“Don’t panic about it,” Captain Burke said as she walked inside. “This is the first time he’s challenged senior officers. Usually, he gets challenged by one of his peers. As for you, MacDowell, I suspect you did well. After all, your engines didn’t blow.”

“Captain-!” Smythe protested.

“That’s not a comment on your abilities, Smitty. I take the blame myself. I’m more used to captaining a voyager class rather than a cargo ship.”

“Cargo?” Beth asked.

“That’s right. We were the Samson, set upon by bad luck, pirates, hotheads and who knows what else? Apparently, this simulation had us getting into the trouble that your team was sent to get us out of. Which strikes me as an interesting concept. I assume we had a possibility of not winding up in the situation where you found us, but of course, your portion of the game had to assume we did.”

YD picked up something off the floor and handed it to Mac. “Oh. Thanks,” Mac muttered to her friend.

“You lost your right earbud?” the captain asked.

“Um, no, not lost it,” Mac returned. “Discarded it. It was... distracting.”

“Yes, they can be,” Burke agreed. “If one pays attention to what comes over it. I think that’s why they’re included.”

The owner of the arcade moved past McGregor and into the game room. “Mr Bugalu, I’m afraid I need to point out Clause 124 of the agreement you signed when you requested me to host this challenge match. Clause 124 pertains to any damages that might happen to my equipment. And plainly, there have been damages done.” He pointed to the engineering console, which had most of its panels open, with wires and circuits hanging out in disarray.

Now that it was pointed out, it caught Smythe’s attention, and he walked over to stand in front of it for a good look. “What a bloody mess!”

I never gave it a thought during the game, but players don’t usually dig into the inner workings of the consoles. Blast, I don’t know if I can afford this.

“That’s my fault,” Mac stated. “How much is it? I’ll pay for it, Bugs.”

“I’m not sure you can afford to,” Bugalu told her. “And after paying for the game, I’m not sure I can, either. Maybe, if we pool our resources...”

“Probably not,” the captain said softly. “And I can’t abide having crew members who obsess over their debts rather than pay attention to their duties. Let me see what I can do.” She walked over to stand beside Smitty.

“We can’t let her pay for it!” Mac whispered as they followed a step behind.

“She didn’t say she was going to,” Bugalu returned. “Keep quiet.”

“You’re right,” the captain told her engineer. “It’ll probably need to be replaced. That will be expensive in its own right, but in the meantime, the game will be down, and I’m sure the owner will want damages for lost game time.” She sighed. “I’m almost inclined to promote Bugalu just so he can get this paid off before he retires.”

Mac opened her mouth, but Bugalu squeezed her hand, and she subsided.

“It doesn’t need to be replaced!” Smitty told her. “Where would we be if every time something went wrong on the Fireball, we had to replace something? Things have been... rearranged, from the looks of it. I’d know more if I had the schematics to compare it to. But I can’t imagine she actually did much damage. Whatever she was trying to do, this isn’t an actual ship, it’s just a console for a specific computer game.”

Mac stiffened as Smythe finished his assessment. “Oh!” The engineer turned at her outburst, and her face turned red. “That... explains a lot.”

Smythe asked, “Surely you didn’t think...”

“No, of course I didn’t think I was dealing with a real ship. But I... got caught up in the game, and when the wiring and the circuits didn’t make any sense... Well, some of them reminded me of Yukosk circuits, so I guess I tried modifying them as if they were Yukosk, and...” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Sometimes it seemed to work.”

“MacDowell, I’m dismayed to hear you are still suffering with confusion between the different technologies,” the captain stated. “I had hoped that confusion would have faded by now.”

“It has!” Mac exclaimed. “Well, not faded, exactly. But I know the difference. Mac fixed it for sure a couple days ago.”

“I see,” was the captain’s careful return. “And who am I speaking to?”

Mac grimaced. “Colleen MacDowell. I apologize. ‘Mac’ is my nick name for Dr McGregor.”

The Contest (Part 3)

Month 9 Day 9

(Shore Leave Day 10)

1410 Hours

Bugalu

Previously:

The Samson stopped lagging behind and seemed to come willingly. Bugalu added speed and put the Firebrand into a corkscrew orbit around the cargo ship, changing the size of the corkscrew at irregular intervals. Now he could take an occasional moment to aim and fire a gun himself, though he wasn’t sure he actually hit anything.

“Shields, 70%” YD stated.

“On it.” Mac stood up, flipped a couple buttons, opened up one of the top-side panels and began working inside.

Bugalu noticed a yellow light go orange. “We’ve had several hits at decks 9 & 10, NNW. Shields there are at 25%”

“On it,” Mac acknowledged, and kept doing what she was doing.

“Getting reports of minor injuries,” Beth reported. “Nothing that won’t wait. More ships are approaching, mostly in groups, but there’s 2 single ships approaching at high speed. One appears to be Scissan and the other hotheads.”

“How many crew on the Scissan?” Mac asked.

“Ummmm, over 50,” Beth answered.

“Doesn’t sound right. A typical Scissan ship holds 5 or less,” Mac stated, and finished what she was doing, started something else.

The orange light on Bugalu’s console turned bright green, but the other lights depicting the shields went dark. “What happened to the shields?”

“If I did it right, I boosted them,” Mac answered. “Now, I wonder what this knot of wiring is supposed to do?”

“She did what?” Smythe asked in the other room.

“Mr Smythe, I need more power!” Burke snapped at him.

Bugalu slipped his ship east to avoid an incoming shot. “Mac, I’ve got 1 green light on my shields display and the rest went dark!”

“I didn’t want to burn the lights out, but they should come back on when the shields get down to their usual 100%.”

“How much did you boost them?”

“75%. I think. That green light is where they were down to 25%, right?”

“Right.”

“Then maybe I’ve done it right.”

“How much more could you boost them?”

“Don’t know. I’m working mostly by guesswork.”

I doubt that. She must have studied even more than I’m aware of. “Beth, how many hotheads in that individual ship?”

“Supposedly, 500.”

Doesn’t sound like hotheads; their crews are usually a dozen or less, because they can’t get along among themselves. And they have a larger group of fighters by having a group of ships, instead of only one. So one of these singles is probably the captain’s team, disguised so we won’t recognize them. Guess I’ll have to play it by ear. “Mac, can we jam communications between these ships?”

“What?” She pulled her attention out of the interior of her console, if not her hands. “Sure, let’s do that.” Both of her hands emerged and flashed across her console. “Any particular group, or all of them?”

“Everybody you can reach.”

“You got it.” She flipped a switch and went back to inspecting the innards of her console.

Something is wrong. This is too easy. He studied his console, but found nothing except the dark shield lights that apparently meant everything was good there. A slight shiver in his chair brought his eyes to the screen, where he caught the tail-end of an expanding dispersal of an energy bolt in the shield. That doesn’t seem as large as it should be. Even with shields at full power, a hit should have sent a grumble through the entire ship.

Well, if this doesn’t show Mac – and Smythe – that she belongs in engineering, I can’t image what will.

Just to be safe, he rolled the Firebrand 180 degrees. Since his ship was fairly cylindrical, maybe his opponents wouldn’t realize his shields’ ‘tender’ spot had moved. Or maybe its new position would make it more difficult for them to hit. If they even realize we have one. Or would have, if Mac hadn’t augmented the shields somehow.

“Mac, I’m losing power in sick bay,” Beth stated. “I mean, I don’t have any patients yet, but… Oh, even life support is effected.”

“I’m tapping the engines pretty hard,” Mac returned, and turned to him. “Bugsy, how long do these games last?”

“As long as they need to,” he answered. “How long can we do without life support, Beth?”

“In the heat of battle? 2 or 3 hours, although it might get stuffy and chilly.”

“Mac, how good a grip do we have on the Samson?”

“As good as I can make it. As long as you don’t try to double our speed in under a minute…”

“Noted.” He studied his screen for a few seconds. The hothead and pirate groups were engaging each other. The 2 individual ships were mixed in, with several others sitting on the edges. It seemed like only nominal attention was being given to the Firebrand and Samson. “Seal all windows and dim interior lights by 50%. Shut off all exterior lights and life support. Keep the tractor beam and the shields strong, but give me as much speed as you can. Oh, and keep the jamming going, but fade it out over the course of 5 minutes. Got all that?”

“On it,” Mac confirmed, her hands already flying over her console. The lights dimmed. “Ready.”

“Let’s go,” Bugalu told his team, and pushed the Firebrand faster. How long before our opponents realize I’ve left?

The center of his screen showed only stars and asteroids. The scavengers were slowly sliding to the sides of the screen, and therefore being left behind. They were engrossed in fighting over the prize, and possibly didn’t realize the prize was moving away. Hope I can get up to a speed they can’t match before they decide to follow.

One ship was blasting away at any and all of the other ships. It was taking a few hits, but it kept flipping and rolling, changing position and speed so often, the chances that any one section of shield becoming fragile were practically nil. “Who are they?”

“Sensors say that’s the Scissan ship,” Beth offered.

“Captain?” YD offered.

Of course! An individual ship that somehow presented itself as a too-large ship of Scissans. Did their team do that, or is it part of the game?

The battle was behind them. Some ships decided they’d had enough and took off, but other small groups were still coming, eager to see what they could commandeer. The captain’s ship intercepted a trio that had decided to follow the Firebrand and engaged them. Bugalu pushed for more speed.

“Bugs, the engines...” Mac began softly.

“How long can you give me?”

“I don’t know. Minutes. Maybe.”

“Make them last as long as you can. We’ve got to get away. You turned off the jamming, right?” He turned the ship to run closer to a large asteroid. A dwarf planet, probably, it’s the right size.

“Jamming, jamming,” Mac was muttering to herself, and quickly studied every inch of her console. “Right. That’s off.”

Hope this works. “All crew members, hang on!” Bugalu torched all the maneuvering jets on his west side to slam his ship - and the tractored cargo ship - behind the dwarf planet. The Samson’s mass sent the 2 connected ships into a lop-sided twirl around each other. Between this and the corkscrew orbit, if they do find us, they’ll have a hard time targeting us. But I hope they don’t find us.

He couldn’t think in directions anymore; all he could do was keep his half-planned route in mind and guide the ship [Two ships, not just one. Got to keep that in mind.] for the next asteroid to hide behind for a few seconds. In this way, he hoped to put distance and several asteroids between him and all those other ships.

The Contest (Part 2)

Month 9 Day 9

(Shore Leave Day 10)

1349 Hours

Bugalu

Previously:

“We are go,” Bugalu stated.

“We are go,” Captain Burke repeated.

The lighting in the game room became a bit more yellow, and the consoles all came to life.

Bugalu’s main screen lit up with a starfield, a band of faint lights – probably asteroids – running from top left to bottom right. His left earphone told him, “SS Firebrand, you have come to these coordinates in response to an SOS of unknown reason from an unknown source at this approximate location. This area is known for pirate bands and unfriendlies of several species.”

His whole team would have heard that. “Mac, can you find any ships?”

“How many do you want?” she answered at once. “There’s one – er, maybe 2 – ahead at about an AU, 3 at 345/350/-83 at 1.2 AU, another at- oh, here, see for yourself.” Several circles appeared on his main screen to indicate the ships she had located; the number of colored lines in each circle indicated the number of ships in each location, with other notations indicating distance, speed and direction. The group of 3 had been identified as a known pirate band, headed for what they hoped would be easy pickings, like all the rest. Most of the rest. The Captain’s team is out there someplace.

Bugalu rammed the ship forward. “Raise shields. Prepare for battle.”

“Aye,” YD responded as the shields went up.

“Ready,” Beth answered.

“Good work on the display of ships, Mac,” he added. “Can you give me more speed?”

“On it,” she answered, and the speed gauge started inching upwards almost immediately. “Don’t overshoot it.”

“I’m the helmsman, remember?”

“More ships,” she said, and his main screen expanded into a holographic half circle with more circles popping up.

The opposite ends of the holograph would actually be directly behind him, so he was seeing 360 degrees in 180 degrees of space. Some of the new circles, he noticed, were so distant, they barely showed up as a tiny dot. For now, he ignored all but the closest circles, as those would soon be within range.

Bugalu magnified the circle they were headed for until he could make out what looked like2 blips, so close to each other, they might even be touching. “Beth, any life signs ahead on that ship? Or pair of ships?”

“I’m not seeing any, but if they’re shielded, there’s still hope. Or it’s an unknown species.”

“Fleet,” YD stated.

The circle on the screen now identified the double-blip as the Samson, a heavy duty fleet cargo ship.

“Power in sick bay is flickering,” Beth reported.

Something clattered against the deck. Bugalu’s expanded screen grew staticy, the shapes it held uncertain. “Mac, someone’s trying to jam us.”

“On it,” she answered, punching buttons and flipping switches. A few seconds later, she began pulling the front panels off her console, tossing them behind her as she traced wires and fiddled with circuits.

“What in space is going on over there?” came through Bugalu’s right earbud.

“Don’t get distracted, Smythe,” Capt Burke stated. “We have our own problems.”

“Those pirates have beaten us to the Samson,” Bugalu stated. “And a group of four is approaching fast from the west. I’m guessing 1 to 2 minutes to reach range. Any life signs yet, Beth?”

“Not from the Samson, although it still has power and probably automatic defenses. The pirates are mostly human. Ish. A couple Schiss. Possibly a Whooz.”

A Whooz? Prisioner or crew member? Hard to know. Even the pirates probably aren’t sure.

“Range.” YD stated.

“What?” Already?

“You’re welcome,” Mac stated absently, still fiddling with the insides of her console. His screen was clear and sharp again.

“Send a warning shot at the pirates. The next group, too,” Bugalu instructed, and beamed his ship’s ID to Samson. It was unlikely the beam would be read by any ship other than the Samson, but it wouldn’t take any of them long to figure out his ship was not friendly to them.

The pirates didn’t waste any ammunition responding, but piled on more speed. The next closest group sent a shot toward the Firebrand, but it lost power before it hit and wandered off track; they weren’t within their range yet.

“The group that fired at us consists of hotheads,” Beth stated.

Hotheads wasn’t the official name, but the nickname fit. The D’orte were a warrior race, seemingly ready to battle over anything. Their scientists only produced equipment that would aid their warriors in battle. Their home world, reportedly, was barely out of the stone age, but they were known and feared in their section of the galaxy.

Bugalu dumped some of his speed and his chair rolled forward, slamming him into his console. “Ow!” he heard from his own team.

“Mac, check the inertia dampers.”

“No kidding.”

“I won’t have time to warn you of my maneuvers.”

“I’m on it,” she returned.

The pirates had started to brake, but would over-shoot the Samson by a good bit. The hot-heads were getting closer. “Dog, you are free to fire at any unfriendly you can hit. I’m going into an irregular orbit around the Samson.” He started braking, and his chair didn’t roll, but his head was still pushed forward.

“More damp on the inertia,” Mac muttered to herself.

Bugalu could see shots from the Samson, as well as some from the Firebrand. They were soon joined by shots from the pirates and the hotheads, and a few smashed into the Firebrand’s shields. Bugalu caught the Samson in a tractor beam as he slipped past it, which produced a huge jolt in his ship as it attempted to drag a misshapened mass that was more than double his own. “More power to the tractor beam!”

Sparks flew from the engineering area as Mac pulled out 3 circuit boards and quickly rearranged them. “Got it.” She turned to do something else.

The Samson stopped lagging behind and seemed to come willingly. Bugalu added speed and put the Firebrand into a corkscrew orbit around the cargo ship, changing the size of the corkscrew at irregular intervals. Now he could take an occasional moment to aim and fire a gun himself, though he wasn’t sure he actually hit anything.