Starfire
Copyright© 2025 by Mark Randall
Chapter 1
One of the problems of deep space travel is that it’s boring, sometimes deadly dull. People become complacent and lazy. They fall asleep at their posts, missing dangers as they approach.
Early one morning, Captain Sullivan was awakened by his communicator.
Captain, this is Foley in Communications.”
“Go ahead, Foley, whatcha got?”
“You aren’t going to believe this, sir, but we’re being hailed.”
Henry was confused. They hadn’t had any communications with the inner system in a month, least of all being hailed. That meant there was another ship nearby. A ship that the observation crew hadn’t detected. A ship close enough to see and hail them. A ship close enough to attack the Seward’s Folly by surprise.
As the Captain came onto the bridge, some of the bridge crew were chuckling, others maintained their decorum, but there were smiles all around. Henry had seen some pretty wild things out here. And heard about even wilder happenings. “OK, Foley. Could it be a ghost call? Some old transmission bouncing around out here?”
“I don’t think so, Sir. My first thought was just that. I also thought it might be an auto-hailer. Some forgotten military hardware that we triggered when we got into range.”
That got everybody’s attention. If this were a military operation, it would likely have been dangerous, and we might have blundered into a trap of some kind.
“Foley, I’m assuming that you don’t think this is military hardware. Why is that?”
“Well, Sir, the usual thing when that stuff comes up is to use a reply tone. If that gets a response, then we know it’s a warm body on the other side. If the tone gets bounced back, we know it’s hardware.”
“And you got a reply to your ‘tone’?”
“That’s right, Sir. Do you want a playback?”
“Go ahead, let’s hear it.”
There was a click, followed by a static buzz. This was followed by the tone that the communications tech spoke of.
Then a voice came over. “All right, you bastards, I can see ya. What’re you doing in my space? Dammit, give a body a bit of warning. Damn near blew my ears off. Who are you mutts? Whatcha doin’ out here?”
A click and dead air followed this. The Commo tech came back on. “I haven’t replied yet Sir. I thought it best to notify you before I did anything else.”
“You did right, son. Who am I talking to here?”
“Sorry about that, Sir, I’m commo tech 3rd class, Brian Foley.” We could hear new voices in the background now.
“Sir,” A new voice came in. “This is Commo Chief, Jenkins, I’m here now.”
“Outstanding, Chief. Put Foley back on.”
“Foley here, Sir.”
“So, tell me, Foley, what do you think is going on here? Are we dealing with a man or a machine?”
“Definitely a man, Sir. Not too close either. There is a lag between us and his response. He isn’t close, but not too far either. According to the direction finder, he’s transmitting from 270 degrees, mark negative 20. I’ve checked with surveillance, and they don’t see anything there, so we’re probably dealing with a remote transmitter.”
“Good job, Foley. Put your boss on, please.”
“Chief Jenkins here, sir.”
“OK, Chief, let’s take care of some house business first. Foley’s now 2nd class, got that?”
“Aye Aye, Sir. Starting this watch, he’s a 2nd class tech.”
“Great, next, I need to talk to our new friend. So if you would please, Patch me in.”
Foley came back, “Sir, you’re on a hot mike in 3,2,1.”
Trying to keep a neutral voice, Henry said, “Hailing station, this is Henry Sullivan, commanding the Seward’s Folly. Who am I speaking to, please?”
There was a noticeable lag in the response. “Sullivan? I knew a 50-credit whore on Mosley by that name. You any kin?”
It was dead quiet on the bridge. No one was even breathing. Then Co-Captain April, Henry’s wife, started snickering. The Captain glared at her. She held her hands up and smiled sweetly, “Hey, I can’t help it if your mother is a bitch.”
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