Split Decision

Author: Yuri Serafim

Original post: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1B2_JdzmeVAI-601RS2YbVz_geGA1RePL2ncFiodE0Bs/edit

Entry for the YC117 Pod and Planet Fiction Contest in the A Day in the Life category.

The wormhole was more imposing in the full display resolution of the bridge view screens. If she hadn’t had to study every intricacy of the vessel before she was allowed to command the Heimdall, Captain Alva Nystrom would have sworn she was looking out a window in the front of her Panther-class black-ops battleship, when in fact there was over a meter of dense armor plating and several more of electronics and subsystems between the dingy-yet-functional bridge and the cold void of space. Compared to the view through these virtual windows, she thought, the grainy picture in her rushed mission briefing did the spatiotemporal oddity no justice.

It had been only a few hours since an explorer with tribal loyalties had reported the wormhole connection from Gulmorogod to the nearby Amarr-controlled system Arzad. An underwhelming find for a thrill-seeker or archaeologist looking for a shortcut into the middle of elsewhere, but now, today, it was an absolute miracle to Republic Fleet Command, for today was the day that the Amarr Imperial logistics command were transporting the drifter artifact. Recovered from deep within a remote, hostile wormhole system, it was to be sent to a research lab in an unknown location, far beyond the reach of Minmatar forces. Leaders had puzzled endlessly over how to sneak past the Amarr scouts keeping constant vigil of every gate into the system, every ship in local, and this was the answer they’d been looking for.

Alva took a deep, shuddering breath before asking the comms officer for the twenty-third time if the spies in Arzad had reported the transport undocking. The answer was the same. She’d considered taking a fraction of a synth mindflood to quell the embarrassing shakes, uncharacteristic for a veteran like her, but opted for a more meditative approach. Nonetheless, this was something her experience simply hadn’t prepared her for, and that worried her. The waiting was the worst part. Floating here cloaked, not knowing what the enemy might do.

Deep in thought considering possible outcomes and measures she might have to take, her eyes refocused and her mind snapped back to the present as the comms officer barked, “Fleet command says hole is green. They’re undocking, we’re good, just say the word, Captain.” Remembering what it was like to lead, Alva straightened up and pointed at the object on the screen, “You know what to do, boys. Point the nose at that thing and put the pedal down. Let’s go put these Amarr bastards in their place. We’ll get in, get the goods, and get the hell out. They’ll never see it coming.”

~

They saw it coming.

The familiar-yet-panic-inducing armor claxon rang out again just before the Heimdall’s literal ton of armor-repairing nanites replaced a few dozen more centimeters of armor plating between the Amarr defense fleet’s guns and the marvel of engineering inside. They’d scored the kill and plundered the Drifter artifact, but not quickly enough to get out scott-free.

“Captain, we can sustain the damage for now, but we’re stuck here. They’re playing havoc with our warp core, and more ships are certainly on the way. Our gunners are doing the best they can, but we just can’t track the frigates pinning--”
The engineering officer was cut off as the crewman watching the ship’s directional scanner cried out, “Three Abaddons and an Armageddon on scan! Fourteen AU... No, twelve now. They’re closing. Captain Nystrom, what do we do?”

Alva stared at the wreck of the Amarr transport floating next to the station, deep in thought. It didn’t take her long to figure out what to do. She looked up. “Sergeant, are they pointing us or scrambling us?”
“Just disruption, ma’am, but after--”
“Align back to the wormhole.” She pointed to the pilot. “Hit the Micro-Jump Drive.”
Several crewmen flopped their faces into their palms, feeling foolish for forgetting about that minor detail. Meanwhile, the image on the bridge display distorted and tinted red, as though viewed through a shard of stained glass. Alva counted under her breath as four blue flashes marked the arrival of the Amarr’s heavy backup, and just as soon as they arrived, she counted twelve and her ship was a hundred kilometers away, sailing freely towards the wormhole, towards home.

Taking a sigh of relief, she gave the command to enter warp. The Heimdall shuddered as power was diverted from the sublight engines to the warp drive, grabbing hold of reality itself to accelerate past the speed of light towards the way home. “Captain, I’m seeing combat probes on scan. We’re not out of this yet.” Alva drew a sharp breath in fear, but quickly reassumed her confident demeanor as she instructed the crew to jump through the hole as soon as they exited warp. Nearing the hole, the ship slowed down, coasting almost lazily into visual range of the anomaly. Seconds later, several interceptors skidded out of warp in front of the ship, not giving up on their prey just yet. “Um, Captain, Nystrom,” a scientist remarked over the ship intercom, “our sensors are telling us the wormhole is critically unstable and won’t be able to take much more mass through it. It’s on the verge of collapse, ma’am.” “Fantastic!” Alva exclaimed, blessing her luck. “Can we make it through?” “Possibly, but I don’t know what will happen if it collapses while we’re in transit.” “We have to try. If we stay we’re goners. Full speed ahead.”

The battleship lumbered towards the gash in reality; the hole’s aura shimmered and swayed as each meter of the Heimdall passed through. With one final shudder, the wormhole winked out of existence, some stray particles drifting into the black as another clump of Amarr ships landed at the site.

Lights flickered on the bridge and the screen went blank, switching to a diagnostic interface overlaying some interior camera footage. The sound of laser fire came to a stop. Alva shouted in confusion, “What happened? Did we make it? Why are we losing power?”
Several crewmen and engineers on the bridge glanced at each other nervously. After a lengthy pause, one of them spoke up. “Well, it... sort of worked. The front half of the ship made it. We didn’t.”

~

In Gulmorogod, the bow of the Heimdall tumbled through space, following a slow, ballistic course unhindered by the fourth-dimensional drag of the warp drive that was, by navigation officer Nikola Rask’s best guess, still somewhere in Arzad. Around him, in the auxiliary bridge used for route-planning and astrometrics, his crewmates were frantically phoning around what was left of the ship, taking toll of who was left and trying to sort out who was in charge amidst a few confused murders of have we become trapped? One by one, people put down their headsets, confirming each other's’ suspicions with raised eyebrows and nods.
“Acting Captain Rask? Congratulations on your promotion. We’re four systems away from that Amarr fleet, but Command says our reinforcements are twice that distance. It’s only a matter of time before the Amarr find track us down, and the odds of our friends getting here first aren’t looking good. What do we do?”

Nikola thought for a moment, and began speaking: “We’re adrift, but what ship systems are in our half? Let’s think. We have the drone bays, about half the cargo including the Drifter artifact, the navigation computer, the power core, but not the capacitor, engines, jump drive...” he trailed off into thought, his mind racing.
He slapped a nearby bulkhead and looked up, grinning. “Are the liquid ozone reserves on our half? If so, how much of them? Also, open me a comms channel with high command.” Without waiting for a response, he continued, to nobody in particular, “I think I know what to do. Let’s hope someone out there is paying attention.”

~

Alva watched grimly on the bridge display as her crew lined up in front of weapons lockers to receive guns and body armor. The others on the bridge tried to look busy, and she allowed them that grace because they all knew there wasn’t really much left to do at this point. The external cameras they’d managed to bring back online showed shuttles approaching with boarding parties, and she and her crew knew exactly what that meant: the lucky ones would be back to a life of torment and slavery, while the best anyone in command could hope for was to die early in the torture.

On the edge of her awareness, Alva noticed a communications officer start using his terminal in earnest. “What have you got over there?” she asked.
“Captain, we just - what the hell? - we just detected a cyno going up on our frequency, in our fleet.”
“We’re not in a fleet!”
“Exactly, it’s coming from... holy hell, it’s coming from the Heimdall!”

~

On the bridge of a nearby Armageddon, a crewman informed the captain of a power surge on the disabled Matari vessel.
“Probably just their capacitor accidentally touched the one part of their ship that isn’t completely oxidized, the sava-”
“Sir, I’m detecting a jump drive activation aboard the enemy ship, and...” the crewman trailed off as the still-growing Amarr fleet watched half of a ship vanish in a brilliant flash of light, leaving behind a cloud of rusty debris.

~

Red-brown balloons littered the dimly-lit ceiling, almost blinding in. A platter sat on a low table, still holding a few leftover slices of sweetened yeast protein passing for cake. Eyes drooping from the celebration of their safe return, Alva once more chuckled into the ground, saying "I was impressed with the cyno you lit, but opening a bridge home and using the drones to push the bow through? You're guaranteed a promotion."

"Hey, I'm not the one who had to notice the beacon and jump, all within a minute. Command seemed beyond relieved that the artifact is secure; I wouldn't be surprised if if you got promoted to Rear Admiral." Alva groaned. "What's that word the capsuleers use to express amusement without giving the satisfaction of a laugh? Cake?" "I think it's kek." "Well then kek indeed."