Tales of the Nightingale

The crew assembled on the bridge; The Nightingale was about to exit slipstream, and everybody was at general quarters.

Kassy was in charge of engineering which regulated slipstream, life-support, and power regulation. From her terminal, a rat’s nest of cables spider-webbed out connecting her to other information nodes, allowing her the ease to change everything on the fly from one central location instead of having to terminal-hop.

Doc monitored the Nightingales' communications systems, being fluent in over 30 languages and capable of speaking to most sentient species telepathically, he was well suited for the task.

Cal sat in the Calypso, a short-range moon-hopper jerry-rigged with mines and anti-ship missiles. The Calypso had its own life support system, but Cal suited up in the off chance he needed to board an enemy ship, or his own lost atmosphere during a firefight, which was often the case when someone was trying to put holes in your ship.

Captain Key and Cora stood at the center of the bridge in-between Doc and Kassy. Cora wasn’t just an onboard computer with bells and whistles she was the living consciousness of the Nightingale; she was feeling everything the ship was feeling, seeing everything the Nightingale was seeing. Cora was just as capable of moving and operating the ship as any human would be with their own body.

Captain Key sat in the captains-chair before inhaling deeply, "Kassy drop us out of slipstream just within sensor range of the Gangi system."

The Nightingale seemed to materialize out of nowhere as it exited the interstellar conduits that stars, galaxies, and solar systems shared. The longer you were in the slipstream the more distance you needed to decelerate.

Cora became inhumanly still when she was tasked to fulfill her function. There was navigation data, structural integrity data, the crew's vitals, and in this case a distress signal from the derelict they were tasked to pillage.

Cora turned to Captain Key, “Captain, a distress beacon has been located in a class four nebula. This is highly unusual, a class G star was thought to exist here based on the advanced extensions of the slipstream conduits. What could possibly regress a star back to a nebula without destroying the entire system?"

The same tech that gave Cora the run of the ship also turned one side of the bridge into a transparent window into space they flew through. It looked like the ship just disappeared and the emptiness of space began.

Deacceleration engine burns still put the ship twelve hours out from their destination, but the crew had learned a long time ago to be ready for anything when slipping into a new system.

Captain Key wouldn’t tell anyone, but he lived for these moments. Entering a new system was always filled with the unknown, and whether it was terrifying or spectacular or both, he loved it all the same.

Captain Key looked to Doc. “Doc, anything?”

Doc looked away from the screen to respond, “Something is blocking our sensors at specific points within the system, but there is something out there, and it’s… alien.”

Captain squinted in question, “Alien?”

Cora seamlessly interrupted, “Isolating the disturbance.”

Doc reinserted himself, “The nebula and a few pockets of ionized space, roughly 12,000 km in size are blocking communications, and there are electro-magnetic pulses coming off that nebula in waves.”

Cora looked at Captain Key with a child’s glee, “I don’t know about the planetoids, but I think I know what is causing the disturbance in the nebula.”

Captain Key looked to Cora which was all the prodding she needed. “A singularity is in the process of creation. It has created ribbons of compressed time in the radio frequency bands, though has not yet reached critical mass. This could explain why there is so much interference.”

Doc shook his head in disagreement, “This appears more artificial.”

Cora retorted, “I believe that it is the distress signal folded over itself, because of the frequency compression caused by the time dilation and oscillation.”

Captain Key stood, placed his hands behind his back, folded them over themselves, but he turned his head before addressing Kassy. “Kassy, any threat to the ship's integrity?”

Kassy responded without ever taking her attention off the readings that created a blue glow on her face as she answered, “Doesn’t look like the nebula has created any distortions that could harm the Nightingale, but I wouldn’t stick around for longer than we have to. I am getting odd readings from the slipstream.”

Captain Key turned his entire upper body, “Theories?”

Kassy shrugged her shoulders. “I fix things, but if I had to guess I would say that this nebula is about to connect to neighboring star systems via SlipStream. We don’t want to be here when that happens.”

Captain Key looked troubled, “I thought slipstream was another dimension altogether separate from our own. We just used it to travel FTL.”

Cora and Kassy both excitedly responded, “No.” Kassy finished, “Cora, show him why.”

Cora transformed the front of the bridge into a diagram of connecting lines that branched off like the roots and branches of a tree. "This is the superhighway we call slipstream. They are energetic connections between stars. Some travel between galaxies and some even further. When a star is born, there is an explosion in the slipstream surrounding the immediate space around the new star. It allows the star to make those connections in the slipstream, but immediately after this explosion, there is no way to connect to the slipstream because of those energetic releases. Every ship that can enter slipstream has a small amount post nova remenant within their star drives, essentially connecting them to the slipstream network."

Captain Key nodded, “Meaning we would be stuck humping out of deep space.”

Doc chimed in with ominous finality, “There is nothing for twenty light-years in any direction, not even a planet. This space is a desert.”

Captain Key looked to Cora, “Cora, can you speed up our approach?”

Cora’s face went slack as if she pulled within herself, “Calculating. If we skip the last two burns and do an evasive burn 3 AU from our projected stopping point we would cut 9 hours off our arrival time…theoretically.”

Captain Key prodded, “Theoretically?”

Cora continued, “The inertia dampening technology wasn’t designed to operate under such stress, and the Nightingale may have suffered structural damage from the micro meteor impacts we suffered earlier. The stress could further damage the Nightingale.”

Captain Key blew air out his mouth and nodded, “Cora prepare the Nightingale for a hard burn. Doc, I want you to suit up and join Cal, you two are going to launch once we are in range. You will retrieve the package while Cal provides overwatch.”

Doc nodded, “Yes, Captain.” Doc unbuckled the five-point harness and exited the bridge without another word.

Cora turned with genuine concern on her face. “Are you getting your hunches again? I am detecting no activity in the range of our sensors.”

Captain Key looked hauntingly at Cora, but addressed Kassy. “Kassy, get a clock ready, and prepare for a manual slip.”

Captain Key responded under his breath to Cora. “No, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t somebody or something out here.”

Kassy quipped, “Aye, Captain,” and then flipped open a box she unlocked with a key she had chained around her neck, kissing it before unlocking and flipping the box open, revealing a hand mold. Kassy placed her hand in the mold. The mold perfectly fit Kassy’s hand, lighting up, incrementally as it scanned her hand.

The floor opened up in front of Captain Key, an old earth sea vessel ship wheel emerged from the floor. As the wheel arose a spartan-styled helmet connected with hundreds of fiber optic cables attached to it lowered from the ceiling.

Cora turned to face Captain Key, her eye’s wide and distant, a look that she would have when her considerable processing capability was stressed, “Captain, the burn is ready on your command. Do you believe that I may be comprised?”

Captain Key said, “What? No! I just don’t like not being able to see what could be a whole damn planet, space station, space monster, or whatever the hell else could hide there. Especially with energies bordering on the star-creation level. I want to be ready to leave by any means available and that means melding for slipstream.”

Cora became completely present and looked Captain Key right in his eyes. “You have to consider the possibility you may not be equipped to handle a melding. It is designed for sixth-density beings and higher.”

Captain Key rebutted, “It’s worth the risk.”

Cora increased power to her emitters and grabbed Captain Key’s forearm, something Captain Key didn’t know she was capable of doing, “It wasn’t designed for you,” capping the statement by nodding at Kassy.

The reverie was broken when Kassy strapped back into her harness, “Captain, I have all major systems wired to my terminal; if we need to we can dead-stick through a slipstream event.”

Captain Key, answered with, “Cora, initiate the burn sequence.” He then pulled away from Cora, his arm going through her fingers like she was made of sand.

The Nightingale ripped through space, at speeds that attempted to defy the human imagination. The first burn turned the Nightingale from a streak of light, into an observable object as the deacceleration process was underway.

The whole ship hummed when it was moving at near the speed of light. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane, calm, serene, and then as every cell took its place in a dance of a lower density it was as if you had flown into the wall of the eye-cloud of a hurricane. The whole ship went from a serene hum to a noticeable vibration that you felt deep inside your bones. The hum quickly turned into quaking and the violent shaking threatened to jar you to pieces, before finally, a stillness fell over everything, as the ship fell into a more stable vibratory state.

Cora, tilted her head, Captain I am detecting an energy signature in the nearest pocket of interference. Two vessels have just been detected exiting what appears to be a cloaking field of some sort. They are on an intercept course. Contact in seven minutes.

Captain Key slid the spartan-styled helmet over his head, a flurry of tentacle-like protrusions came out of the back of the helmet and attached at key locations along his spine, lifting him briefly off the floor before allowing him to stand under his own power. The helmet's visor lowered over his eyes with a holo-shield, designed to work in concert with his visual receptors, while simultaneously blocking Captain Key from seeing anything but what was being sent from the Nightingale. Cora, Captain Key, and the ship were integrated as one being.

Nicholas Key felt like he could see Cora’s entire soul all at once, and not at all. She was many lives, many deaths. Yet unfathomably so much more. The memories seemed fragmented and unwieldy, flooding his senses with joy, sorrow, loss, and love. It all converged like an explosion into the present moment.

Captain Key could only whisper her name as he tried to adapt to what was happening to him. “Cora.”

After a few moments, Captain Key said rather distractedly, “Kassy, keep everything running from your end, I will deal with our new friends.”

Captain key then grabbed the wheel as he spoke telepathically and verbally, "Cora open a channel, all waves."

Cora responded, “Channel open.”

Captain Key spoke telepathically and verbally, “Approaching vessels, disengage from your current course. Your actions are viewed as hostile and will be met with extreme prejudice, please respond.”

Cora, Captain Key, and the Nightingale were all joined in a unified consciousness. The ship responded to their thoughts as if they were commands being directed via a terminal.

Cora spoke telepathically, “They are not changing course and no response was detected, wait, message received… all bands”

The white noise of an open channel filled with static flooded the crewmen's headsets. It felt elongated and probing, but when it seemed that only static was their response the channel filled with a chorus of a million screams followed by a collective shrill, “Bicorporal beings, bring your artificial skin to a halt. Prepare to be boarded. Prepare to surrender your light.”

Captain Key didn’t like the sound of that, “Cora, what kind of armament do they have?”

Cora responded, “Our sensors can’t penetrate their hull.”

Captain Key continued. “What if they aren’t ships at all, but weapons themselves?”

Kassy voice cracked as if caught in her throat, “No life signs detected.”

Captain Key didn't like being defensive and he would rather take his fate into his own hands, so he ordered Cora, “Plot an intercept without the second burn.”

Cora responded grimly, “Yes Captain.”

----------------------

The cockpit that Cal and Doc were sitting in was a side-by-side fighter set up. It could be run by one person or you could pair the co-pilot with weapons and navigation, allowing the pilot to focus solely on flying.

Captain Key’s voice suddenly filled both men’s suits, “Prepare for a near FTL departure gentlemen. Cal… Doc... You're on your own for this one, and you might have company. Get to the transponder location and search for survivors. The alien artifact is an ancient builder relic. The relic is an orb approximately half a meter in diameter. The relic first, than survivors. Copy?”

Both crewmen responded simultaneously, “Copy.”

Both men became business-like, Doc spoke first, “I will operate the weapons systems.”

Cal, going through preflight, “Them things are coming at us like bullets from a gun. They already made their intentions clear, I know you are an ambassador of peace, but killin needs to be done, and I need to know your aim is true.”

Doc looked at Cal, "I will not falter; war is what this is, Cal. My aim is true.”

The cockpit filled with a red light as the bay doors opened beneath the Calypso. Cal disengaged the docking clamps leaving the Calypso hovering within the belly of the Nightingale, ready to peel off when given the green light.

Captain Key was three steps ahead of what Cal was about to undertake, using the nebula to mask his turn, hitching a ride on the gravity well forming within the nebula, using it to slow the Nightingale enough to allow for the recapture of the Calypso, while also giving the Nightingale the best chance of getting to slipstream. It was the only way he could get the cargo, and avoid tangling with whatever the hell these things were.

Captain Key filled the men’s headsets once more, “I need the Calypso at these coordinates in approximately two hours after peel off. Men, if you miss the window I may have to leave you. If that happens use the nebula to hide from our new friends here. Good luck, gentlemen.”

Cal got on the channel. “You don’t leave us. I ain’t giving them my light!”

Cal looked at Doc and mumbled, “Whatever the hell that means.”

Captain Key responded, “Make the rendezvous and you won’t get left.”

Cal looked at Doc knowingly. They both knew that the captain meant every word, but they also knew that if they were at the rendezvous within the window that they would survive. It was a trust built on similar experiences. If the Captain said something it was written into the surface of a star somewhere.

Captain Key filled the air once more, “Happy hunting Gentlemen… Calypso, you are green for peel off.”

Cal pulled the chewing gum that he always had in his mouth out, and put it on an old 57’ Chevy rearview mirror that had an ancient hula skirt bobblehead glued to it. He replaced the gum with a mouth guard, something he did ever since he almost bit off his own tongue. Cal responded, “Copy that, Nightingale. Peel off in 3… 2… 1.”

Every time the stakes were high, Doc would remember the promise he made. He remembered the sacrifice that Captain Key and Kassy made for his family. He remembered Hope, and the ultimate sacrifice she made to save them all. It was all the encouragement he needed. His life and that of his family were owed to Captain Key, and he would honor it in death, if necessary.

The Calypso Dropped out of the Nightingale, and once it was clear Cal vectored the Calypso ever so slightly down and away. Cal could feel the gravity well of the approaching craft, like a predator nipping at their heels.

Cal broke Doc’s frightful reverie. “Doc we have visitors. One of the shards peeled off with us, and it’s gaining.”

Doc responded, “I am detecting a ship. It matches the Elizabeth’s signature. It’s intact. No atmo though."

Cal flew by feel. He didn’t need fancy computers to tell them when the Calypso was going to rip apart at the seams, he knew, and now Cal pushed the ship all the way to it's breaking point. Cal put the Calypso in a corkscrew, simultaneously diving off from the Nightingale, as they deaccelerated, the G-forces caused Cal and his copilot to see black crowd around their vision until they could only read their console through pinpricks of consciousness.

The shard overshot and chose instead to pursue the Nightingale, disappearing into the nebula’s ionized gasses.

Doc shouted, “Engaging.”

Cal interrupted, “Don’t. You might hit the Tin Can.”

Doc looked out and whispered, “May the One be served.”