CHAPTER ONE

“They’re coming around, Captain! Weapons are locked!”

Kitana’s voice cracked under the stress of battle. She was the best science officer Themes Rogers had ever commanded, and he trusted her gut in crisis. “I need recommendations!”

“No choice, Captain. We’ve got to use the alien tech.” She looked over at him, expression grim, black hair sweaty on her brow. She glanced at the exec. “We knew the risk when we agreed we’d do anything to stop the Confederation from taking this planet.”

“Do it!” Rogers watched the advancing fleet on the monitor, knowing they had minutes, maybe seconds left. “Tactical, return fire!”

His executive officer got to his feet, looking from one to the other, but Kitana didn’t wait. Her fingers tapped instructions into her console as the exec protested. “Stop the Confederation? What are you talking about? We are the Confederation. Our orders are to conquer this planet for the cause.” He stared at Rogers. “You dare disregard orders?”

Rogers felt his gut twist. The exec was still loyal to their government, and they’d been able to work around him so far. But now it had hit the fan. “I do. We all do.” He gestured to the bridge crew of the space vessel Doubtful. “You can join us in opposing this unjust---”

The exec drew the weapon from his uniform belt and aimed it at Rogers. Damn the man, he was going to force it. Rogers grabbed his own, shot him first. “No time for debate, John.” He grabbed the rail in front of him as the ship was rocked with incoming fire. We’re too far gone to let anyone stop us now. As the man crumpled at his feet, Rogers turned to Kitana. “Report!”

“It’s coming on line now, Captain.” Kitana’s face reflected sickly green from the scope. The rest of the bridge crew worked steadily, low voices a buzz in the background. They were more concerned with saving their own lives than politics at the moment.

“Go, go!” Rogers threw himself into his chair, positioned in the center back of the room, the other chairs below him in a semi-circle. “Whatever it does, we need the miracle!”

He watched the monitor to the side, the three remaining Confederation cruisers moving toward his ship, his and the Victory, captained by another rebel. The space around them was lit with bright yellow and white laser fire. He knew he’d lost the lowest deck to a hull breach, some 14 crew dead, after a direct hit from the Talon, the ship of fleet commander Jal Burko.

The alien technology was untested, an archaeological find his ship had been assigned to study. Kitana believed it was a weapon that could be adapted for modern use. All Rogers could do was hope it was something against which the Talon and the rest of the fleet had no defense, or they were all dead. He watched Kitana and dark-skinned helm officer Kai Windthorp program the device with taut determination.

“Weapon activated, Captain. Firing toward the fleet---now!” Rogers clenched his fist with a prayer and waited to see what would happen. To his surprise, there was no explosion. Nothing left the ship. A ray of red light seemed to flutter in black space ahead of them for a few moments, then it coalesced into a cloudy opening – a wormhole.

“May the stars preserve us,” Kitana whispered, in hushed surprise. Rogers was shaken from his shocked observation as the ship took a devastating hit, knocking several from their posts. Kitana’s console exploded in a shower of sparks and she went down. Power faded and came back on. “Helm! Into the wormhole! Now!” He didn’t know where it went, but it had to be a superior alternative to what faced them: the Confederation fleet poised for a death blow.

“Aye, aye, sir!” Windthorp stumbled back into his seat and entered the coordinates. The ship flew ahead into the red-neon-toned opening as one last powerful volley from the Talon knocked them forward.

Jal Burko’s enraged voice came over the comm system. “I’ll get you for this, Rogers! I’ll hunt you down and kill you like a dog!” The cloudy violet, red and maroon interior of the wormhole pulsed on the screen for a few seconds and then everything went black.

So that was it. They were dead in space.

Themes Rogers wiped blood from his arm as alarms blared and systems hit critical status, acrid smoke choking the six-seater bridge. The midsize vessel Doubtful hung in the black emptiness of the void... somewhere. He didn’t know where. Not yet.

With muttered expletives, Rogers used the captain’s chair, its black leather scored, to pull his stocky frame upright to survey what was left of the oval room that was his bridge. The gray utilitarian carpet was littered with dust and broken chips off the consoles, two of the panels blown.

Five officers were down. His exec, of course, was dead by Rogers’ hand; Kitana jolted by that power burst after the ancient device had overloaded the system. The others were hurt, might be recoverable.

Lights faded on some of the boards. The captain clicked into emergency protocol mode: first, secure the ship; second, secure the crew. He knew gravitational control and life support would pre-empt the end of the power supply, so he had to use any other functions before that happened. Rogers groaned through clenched teeth, back muscles bruised, as he crawled over the debris to slap the intercom.

“All decks report!” The smoke sent him into a coughing fit, and he kicked the console that held the ventilation controls. To his satisfaction, it rattled to life, obviously damaged, but the air began to clear.

That’s right, you jump when the captain calls.

There was no answering beep from the intercom. Do I have a crew? He hit the button again. “Anyone hearing this message respond immediately!”

When there was still no answer, he sent the message again deck by deck. There had been 32 souls on deck when they’d left base at Gilada.

Could I have lost them all?

So tell me what you think about this opening -- want to read more?