Nebula

A small piece of iron, silica, and ice floated through empty space. As it floated, it gained momentum from the gravitational force created by other larger bodies floating likewise in the nothingness. Decades and centuries passed as it traveled on its aimless and carefree journey.

After a time, it reached a region of space filled with more than an occasional large body. Amid the vast bodies began to appear particles of galactic dust. The building stones of planets and stars began to surround the piece of iron, silica, and ice: a particle or two more every kilometer, then several per meter. It was observed that the dust created a miniscule slowing effect upon all traveling through this region of space, but the slowing was counteracted in part by the intermittent pull of the large bodies it passed by.

After a short increase of mass per volume in the surrounding vacuum, the region directly in front of the traveler appeared to be relatively solid mass of the once far between particles. The region directly ahead pulled with a force greater than any heretofore experienced.

In a time span of not centuries or even decades, but of days, the traveler burst in to the solid mass of particles to find itself within a dimly self-radiating region of space: the Thane nebula.

Inside the Nebula another traveler drifted, colliding with the mass of galactic dust as the traveler had… Only this one did not merely yield itself to the physics of attraction, this one moved according to an inner will.

* * * * *

"Rear quadrant one?"

"Clear."

"Rear quadrant two?"

"Clear."

"Rear quadrant three?"

" I’ve got a 7-km silhouette of a meteor coming into the Nebula. Tracking and predicting course."

"See, yuh hope for a little action, maybe detect a Charlay or two on the long range: But all we get is rock on its way to nowhere… I guess I should have been more specific with the ‘little’ part…"

"Too bad. Its course puts it into a hundred-year decay to the heart of the Nebula. I’ll make a note of its predicted path. Nothing in its way of importance to us – so we won’t bother notifying Perimeter Control til we get back."

"Alright… Next quadrant?"

"Wait, Ashley." As Marya started speaking, the computer alarmed the detection of an unknown spacecraft: "I am detecting a power source and debris coming from that meteor. Detection mode off."

The center of the main screen, located in front of and at a slight angle to the two women automatically switched to an external human-normal view and zoomed in on the meteor. The somewhat dusty view of the meteor, blurry at first and then enhanced by computer, showed the meteor as a black outline against the dim glow of the Nebula with several chunks radiating outward. From the image, it appeared that a ship had attempted to piggyback the meteor but dislodged some loose pieces – also causing it to spin slightly toward Ashley and Marya’s craft.

Smaller screens, located to each side of the main screen, showed the computer’s analysis of the unknown craft while others showed the automatic defensive power-up of the scout’s systems shut down to reduce sensor interference.

"Bashemath class cruiser," Ashley read from the screen, "Probably Charlay." She thought of the lost patrol craft similar to her own and surmised that the Charlays may have successfully completed what they had just attempted before that particular patrol had been able to protect itself. Luckily for her it had failed this time with the accidental decay of its hiding spot on the small meteor. While such a trick could work on the edge of the Nebula, any more than a cursory penetration would surely be noticed by the detectors of hundreds of patrolling ships and unmanned satellites.

"Weapons on, engine up, shields at 25% and rising," Marya read from the screen directly in front of her.

"I’m certainly not going to wait here like a sp’oth trying to extend its shell while they come at us. Moving back." As Ashley spoke her hands moved expertly over the controls of the ship, smoothly yet rapidly matching their scout craft with the velocity vector of the meteor.

"Better do more than match the meteor’s vector, they’re accelerating this way Ashley. Put on your re-breather – just in case." On the main screen, the flare of the Charlay’s engine exhaust reflected off the dust of the Nebula as a visual confirmation of Marya’s statement.

Ashley pulled her helmet from under her seat and locked it into place, conforming herself to Marya’s recently helmeted suit. The helmets had small containers of semi–solid breathable air that released slowly in concert with a recycling mechanism that allowed enough air for two days of heavy exertion. While providing air and allowing for food consumption, the helmets also allowed full visual range and had built in radios, allowing constant short-range communication between crewmembers.

"All right: maximum acceleration, deploy mines. I hope they are too eager to get us to pay attention to these." The mines deployed could pass easily through a shield, but would also remote detonate if necessary. To any careful navigator, maneuvering around them would be simple enough, but they were unusually difficult to detect in the Nebula. "Send a distress signal, notify Perimeter control that we got a Charlay cruiser on us."

"Incoming missiles… Automatic evasive action countdown one minute. Shall I override?" Marya blurted as six warheads left the enemy ship and pushed its way through the dust towards them. "Fusion warheads with shield canceling generators built in… How’s that for a ‘little action?!" Marya’s voice rose slightly at the end showing her frustration at her friend’s earlier wish. "…Target is locked Ashley, fire when ready."

"Don’t override. Firing missile bays one and two." Ashley said as she depressed a button, sending five missiles superficially similar to their enemy’s but by all reports from her Gera commanders, significantly more powerful. She hit a second button, sending five more along a similar path. If the computer calculated the attack angles correctly, the enemy would detect only five approaching missiles, for the second five were masked by the approach of the first five.

After the missiles had launched, they both waited in silence, waiting for the respective missiles to reach their targets. As the one-minute timer ran out, their ship suddenly lurched at an acute angle to the x-z plane of the Nebula’s center.

A warning bell sounded as the ships multi-laser defense system engaged. The lasers were a "Nebula special": weapons designed by Humans for use in the defense of their two planet system and the dust cloud they called home.

Outside the small scout ship, four barely visible beams could be seen lancing out towards the missiles. The faintly purple glow of the lasers melded with the white-yellow of the missiles and the reddish glow of the Nebula to create a beautiful display of light comparable to the beauty of a star going nova. Four missiles momentarily resisted the beauty and death of the lasers before metamorphosing from a warhead of destruction to a high velocity ball of plasma. The two lasers closest to the remaining missiles automatically began to home in and pour death upon the last two, but the plasma ball created too much interference. The remaining two continued their path of destruction towards the scout, impacting near the mid-section of the ship –one slightly more towards the stern then the other.

The artificial nova increased an hundred fold for mere seconds – sending out an electro-magnetic pulse that could be detected by the crudest of devices for one third of an astronomical unit in all directions – and then again subsiding into the dim glow of the Nebula.

* * * * *

Back inside the ship, in strict opposition to the nova of death, reigned a darkness and sterility similar to that of true vacuum only found beyond the edges of the galaxies… Except for the woman tightly strapped into a chair with her limbs floating in the weightless cabin. Hours had passed since the explosion, frozen hours of silence.

After a time, the woman’s eyes began to move underneath closed eyelids. Her breathing deepened and her arms drew in reflexively to hold her bruised body. Hers eyes flickered and opened to the sight of darkness. Her eyes wandered, looking for any sign of life from her crewmate or ship.

"Marya. Marya, are you ok?"

Ashley reached into her leg pocket and drew out a flashlight, twisting it on. A beam of light revealed the tragedy of their brief encounter with the Charlay. The back room of the scout, where bunks and food were, could not be seen; the hallway connecting it to the fore-cabin was now filled with twisted and stress fractured metal. Some of the screens and displays lining the front of the cabin were likewise twisted and broken, although with more life-like damage of wires and circuit boards jutting outward like exposed and damaged internal organs. To Ashley’s left, where Marya’s seat had been, was a support beam and bulkhead plates that bore witness to the severe damage inflicted upon the ship.

Ashley carefully pressed her harness release, going slow because of the tenderness in her limbs. She pushed slightly away from her set and extended her arms and legs to determine if any serious injury had been caused by the explosion. After quickly running her hands up and down her body, it seemed the only injury that had resulted were bruises and stiff muscles from the ship being thrown about in the fusion fury.

"Suit: Test internal communication circuits." A small heads up display showed the results of the test – all circuits intact and fully operational. "Well at least something around here isn’t damaged… Suit, can you determine if Marya is alive?" The HUD display blanked for a moment then the words ‘Unable to link with other scout crew member’ flashed in her eyes.

Realizing the uselessness of radio communication, she decided upon a more ancient method of relaying messages over a short distance. Using the seat as an anchor, Ashley pushed off towards the collapsed bulkhead. When the bulkhead was within reach, she held herself fast to the jutting metal with one hand and with the other she wielded the flashlight like a cudgel. Hoping that Marya was alive and conscious enough to respond to noise, Ashley pounded on the bulkhead. She waited motionless, her hand and helmeted head pressed against the bulkhead, ears straining for any form of response. Other then the echo of her own blows, there was nothing.

She pulled herself along the bulkhead, searching for gaps or weak points, until she reached the floor. Bracing her feet against the floor, she pulled upward, straining to move the metal with no result. After several more attempts at other locations along the floor and ceiling she stopped.

After having exhausted all her immediate options for rescuing her friend she pushed herself to the emergency exit hatch. The manual release latch located along the side of the door refused to budge. She examined the edges of the door, and found ripples in the metal on one side: the ship’s damage prevented the door from being released. "Of all the luck – the emergency hatch doesn’t work in an emergency." She swung a futile fist against the door causing her to rebound towards the center of the small room that was left from the original forward cabin.

"Great, first Marya goes quickly - then I die slowly…"

"Suit: Any sign of activity from the ship? Propulsion, sensors, computer, communications?"

A list appeared of all major systems of the ship: Life support – none, Communications – none, Engine – none, Sensors – right rear quadrant has partial operation.

"Yes! Now we’re getting somewhere. Suit: Show me what you’ve got."

A visual display of the view from the rear of the scout appeared on the HUD, revealing a rapidly careening world – mostly just dust and rocks. No sign of the Cruiser.

"How ‘bout one of the other sensors."

A partial view from the functioning radar appeared before her, a red dot indicating her own ship, floating in the midst of rocks and dust. A small cloud of material close to her ship was obviously not made of the same material as the standard Nebula rock and dust: her own ship remnants.

"Suit: Increase scale." The view of the ship’s immediate surroundings grew smaller until another dot appeared nearly at the maximum range of the radar. "That’s enough."

"Suit: Is that the Bashemath cruiser?"

"Unknown. Sensor memory discontinuity exists from severe ship damage."

As Ashley watched, the dot moved outward, away from her own directionless dead ship – but also out of the Nebula.

"Suit: Increase scan range to maximum."

A dismal sinking feeling settled in Ashley’s gut. To the farthest reaches of the damaged sensors, no other ship was visible.

"Suit: Clear HUD but leave sensors on-line. Alert me if anything enters range that is not a naturally occurring object. Now we have to sit tight and wait for someone to home in on us…"

Now obviously stranded and totally alone, Ashley contemplated the likelihood of ever leaving her space coffin to explain to her Human and Gera commanders what had occurred. Perhaps the other scout ship that had disappeared had similar living yet trapped passengers. From what she had learned of the earlier disappearance however, there had been no sign of a missile exchange or distress calls – or trace of any sort other than the ship never returned. In her case, signal cancelors found in advanced war-craft such as the one that killed her scout ship and friend could block a distress call, while the missile blasts generally could only be muted. Her only hope lay in some alert on-duty sensor technician or a careful reviewer of sensor logs.

Mentally going over her survival options to allow response time from any friendly detection of the brief battle left few options. In the arm of her chair was a water bladder that held enough water to keep her barely alive for at least a week, but in the way of food, she had none. The standard scout suits worn by her and Marya had only two tools – the flashlight and multi-tool, but nothing in the way of survival food or weapons. She wished had been allowed her far more familiar battle spacesuit with is triple redundant systems, survival food, hidden weapons, and life saving tools.

Scout missions around the Nebula edge were routine and usually assigned as a brief respite from the typical drop- or space-battle missions. Until only recently, in the relatively short history of Humans inhabiting the Nebula, no battles had ensued from scout missions; thus those in charge of emergency supplies had yet to update all ships to a higher level of survival equipment.

Ashley worked her way to her chair and pulled out the water bladder, placing it in its insulated pocket on her suit to keep it from freezing once the internal heat from the scout’s systems and the explosions dissipated. While the Nebula lacked the absolute zero of open space outside a planetary system, it was still well below freezing point. Not so cold however, that she would freeze to death, but definitely below the comfortable 280 degree Kelvin room temperature she was used to.

She carefully pushed herself back into the middle of the cabin remains and took a small sip of water from the tube connecting to the bladder in her pocket. Off went the flashlight and she was once again surrounded by the darkness.

* * * * *

After floating motionless and thinking for what seemed more like several days than a few hours, she stretched, testing her muscles for stiffness and sign of injury. While the accommodations are not the best, a zero-g mattress certainly is the best I’ve ever slept on. Her mind still raced from earlier events: the battle scene again and again replaying itself in her sensory deprived mind. With a grunt she pulled out the flashlight, twisting the ship’s inners into brilliance and driving the horrible scene into oblivion. The cabin appeared as it had when she last turned off the flashlight. She was still alone, waiting for help, hoping for sensor contact, and pacing her water consumption.

Again the darkness reigned as time passed like sludge through a dredge.

Focus on the feeling of the suit against your skin… Rebuild the image of the cabin in your mind… Techniques taught to her in her younger years came back to help her fight against the nothingness that surrounded her. My soft black chair with its comfortable arm and head rest is there. The harness would be floating like so… My main screen that I pilot from is cracked, the secondary data screen cracked and showing the circuit boards and connecting wires behind it… Over to the left is the main forward screen, tall as me and just as wide. The six smaller side screens would be there - in a group of three and there - in another group of three.

As she mulled over the images, cracks shown in places she did not remember - mind tricks from lack of sensory input.

The twisted bulkhead plates fallen like refuse over there, the support beam lying like a broken bone here… As she stared, she began to imagine that beneath the surface of twisted metal, lay a chair like hers – only twisted, torn, and crushed from the sharp metal edges that had crashed into it. On a soft pad that was soaked with blood sat Marya’s mutilated body. Ashley quickly turned away before she looked any closer into her minds grim imagination and became sick.

Her jerk sent her careening off towards the back corner of the fore-cabin towards the wall that she knew to be there from experience. In her minds eye, she could see herself approaching the wall from a third person perspective; her slowly spinning body about to hit left arm first. Reaching out half her furthest reach, she spread her fingers wide and absorbed the momentum of her spin, and came to a rest nearly parallel to the wall and floor.

Slowly pulling out her flashlight, she examined the wall before her. So strange. I have heard of miners on Beta-2 of the Nebula seeing things during cave-ins, but I didn’t think that I was that unbalanced. I really got to get out of this place.

The deep purple image of her chronometer HUD showed that seven hours had passed since she had realized that she alone survived the battle. Hmm… Water sounds good about now. She took a small sip from the tube and wondered what could be done to occupy her mind.

"Suit: Show me the radar image."

Once again the image appeared in her HUD. No approaching satellites, drones, or ships were visible. In fact, there was no change in most of the image. A few meteors had moved noticeably; in particular, the small meteor they had found at the start of all the trouble was nearing the edge of the current scale.

After examining the image for some time, sleep began to cloud her eyes. A combination of the stressful events, adrenaline letdown, previous inability to sleep, the encroaching cold, and the superficial battering she had received, all weighed heavily upon her. She turned off her flashlight, and since there was nothing better to do, let sleep surround her.

It seemed the instant sleep overtook her, she was again in the third person viewpoint as before, a viewpoint common in her dreams. Unlike most dreams, however, she felt more connected to her body this time, as if the image in her minds eye was more realistic because of her situation.

Her body floated motionless, the HUD image she had fallen asleep to casting weird colored shadows on her face. She looked away from herself and panned around the room, careful to not look any deeper than the surface of the wreckage where Marya lay. Wondering how far her perspective could go, how imaginative her mind could be, she expanded her view outward.

As she expanded outward, it was as if she became the ship. The ship’s midsection became her stomach, the damage like two unhealed crushing blows that had smashed organs and ripped the skin. In a partially caved-in cavity in her chest lay one cold and one warm body. Her feet, the engines, were frozen in place and unable to propel her to any destination. Her eyes, ears, and nose were the myriad of sensors that gave variety to the standard pill-like shape of the scout. It was as if she was nearly blind and had only a small ability to hear and smell. The communications array, her voice box, was overloaded and melted beyond usability.

Ashley pushed further outward, no longer a part of the scout ship. Her new view was not restricted by the dust of the Nebula, but was as clear as if she were in free space. Beyond the ship, she became a portion of the Nebula. Her skin was composed of thousands upon millions of microscopic particles – some merely hydrogen atoms, others minute pieces that were fundamental components of meteors such as the one that had been the hiding place for Marya’s murders. The movement of meteors and her own scout ship was like butterflies in her stomach… Others felt like gentle hands massaging her as they passed along the edge of the Thane nebula that she had become.

She wandered dreamily for a moment, shifting herself along, becoming a different segment of the Nebula, encompassing other pieces of the composite that was her home. Then a thought came to her mind: she cast her perception outward. She cast aside the body of Nebula and condensed herself down to a point of consciousness. With her dream mind, she began searching around her own ship, wondering if she could find what the scout’s feeble few sensors remaining could not: another Human ship.

At first it seemed all was just a maze of primordial debris, but then about two AU out from her ship, in the direction of the most immediate of the two Human planets, she spotted something very strange. It was not the sight of it which first caught her attention, but a strange buzzing sound. It was a very complex sound, one that whispered life to her. As she approached the source of the sound, it became apparent that the source was a Darter – a ship typically used for cleanup after a battle. Ashley remembered the Darter crew that she had been a part of after her third space battle; it had a modest array of sensors nearly equal to the Scout she was piloting, yet was larger and when captained properly could defeat a Bashemath in head to head combat.

Once close to the Darter, perhaps 1,000 km or so, she found that some force resisted her efforts. In typical dream fashion, she could move completely about the craft, but could not close in on her desired destination. Frustrated at the strangeness of her situation and anger at not being able to get the help she needed, she pushed her way towards the ship with all of her ability. It was as if she was walking through gelled air, sliding slowly forward yet being repulsed backward by the force at every attempt of movement. When she got within 1 km, she could not approach any further; the buzzing that had alerted her to the craft’s location was now a loud scream pounding at her like the strange water waves she had experienced on a drop when her unit assaulted a coastal city.

Not knowing what else she could do, she called out with her dream voice: Please. Please listen to me. My Scout is right over there: she pointed the way to her damaged ship. You must come quickly, I cannot last much longer. Please, please come this way.

Imagining what would be the fastest route to her scout, at least fastest for the Darter, she began to move, hoping it would follow.

* * * * *

Suddenly, she awoke, back in the Scout, in her suit with its diminishing air supply. All as it was before she slept – no all seeing eye helped her to see into the darkness, nor could she feel the ship as her own body. The HUD before her eyes still highlighted the singularity of her sarcophagus – harder to find than a Nietzch Relic.

Reaching down into her pocket, Ashley brought out her flashlight and turned it on. Desiring some semblance of normality she removed the cap, turning the beam into a point source, and placed the flashlight near the ceiling hatch, creating a dimly lit room out of the deathly darkness.

Sipping water from her straw, she contemplated her situation, wondering what she could do to pass the remaining hours of her life.

* * * * *

"Sir, I think that we should head over this way. From our current position, the Nebula edge is slightly over two AU away."

Captain Hanson, looking up from his ship status board on the right arm of his chair, nodded at the woman who had just addressed him from the Navigation console. "Do it."

"Stories are unborn worlds inside our head that cannot be contained. I am one of many whom cannot refuse their demands for freedom, their demands to be told. Writing them sets them free from the mind to live forever.

"I have been a college student at the Small State Community College and now the Small State University. I enjoy a vast array of hobbies that includes ASL, Martial Arts, outdoor activities, computer programming, my wife, and dreaming."

E-mail: fist@angelfire.com

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