crvboy presents: Queen Of Ice by Christopher Patrick Lydon

"Lieutenant slow us to one-half current velocity," VonGrippen paced around the situation table, calm and centred he watched as the Shisak's sensors began to correlate the data they collected into a holographic display. Mapping the system as it charted astral bodies. Planets appearing and shading to the appropriate colours for the mineral contents they contained and the elements rich in their atmospheres, the computer resolved and charted the blue nebulous gas that drifted across the system, the Clouds of Neptune.

The backdrop was a rich sapphire blue, space wasn't black that close to the galactic core. Vibrant colours from so many nebulas clustered together gave a rich and vibrant abstract painting to the background. One against which, the dark hull plates of the Shisak stood stark against. There was no hiding visually there unless he ordered the hull painted, a feat that would require them to set down on one of the planets in the system.

"Is there anything in the Polian star charts regarding this system?" Ben asked leaning on a rail and glancing up at where the database was being displayed on a monitor.

"Nothing that I can see, sir," the midshipman tweaking with the computer searched for any reference to their co-ordinates other than they existed.

VonGrippen looked thoughtful as he watched the tactical board display more data, streaming reports of irregularities and plotting a comet that passed their current course heading for the lone brilliant yellow star. Icarus was here somewhere, and they were going to find her and answer the single biggest mystery of modern space flight.

Commander Maguire was standing beside the Shisak's command chair, it was an unspoken agreement that as an officer, even an enemy one, VonGrippen permitted him access to the bridge. He had nothing to hide from the Commander, and he was sharing their quest just like any part of the crew.

"Excuse me Admiral," Maguire spoke up, his Irish lilt soft and easy in his words, "but I am no expert on Jump technology... It took us nearly two months to reach here, and Icarus vanished after just one jump. It doesn't seem likely that they jumped all the way out here on a single jump."

"Unlikely, but not implausible," Ben clarified, "hyperspace is chaotic a ship enters hyperspace and rides the eddies, like white water rafting, but the very nature of hyperspace dislikes the intrusion of... inter-dimensional matter." Ben stepped down off the upper tier and unbuttoned his uniform tunic taking it off as he endeavoured to explain, "Orions used to believe that hyperspace was a living entity, that like any being you insert a foreign object into the flesh then rejection sets in as the body fights the intruder, eventually expelling it if it can. Thus when we go in we time our journeys so that we can predict where we will be expelled based off of the flow of an eddy. At times they co-operate, but there are times when they refuse to and we are knocked off course."

Maguire nodded his head, "right, so if you're knocked off course could you end up here?"

"Theoretically you can end up anywhere as long as you have the capability to ride the flows. If Icarus, a computer guided starship, was unable to re-enter normal space for whatever reason, then she could have ended up all the way out here. But the fact that she ended up in a star system... Well let me put it this way if you take a handful of darts and throw them all at the same time at a dart board, you'd have more chance of hitting a bulls eye than for Icarus to end up here."

"So," Maguire mused, "what you're saying is, 'yes Icarus could have travelled here by chance, but that's unlikely, so she is probably here by design'?"

VonGrippen stepped forward, his eyebrow raised as he looked at the American Commander, "It's not an encouraging thought, however I suggest we leave speculation about the sabotage of the Icarus mission until we are actually onboard the ship and able to review the data of her navigation computer." He turned, "Lieutenant Octavius take us in deeper, but keep the ship on stand by alert."

"Problem?" Maguire asked quietly.

VonGrippen turned back, "caution."

The cricket bat sent the ball flying along the cargo bay, as a Kaynin scrambled up and over a packaging crate to try to catch it, slipping and crashing to the deck in a fit of giggles as he held the shiny red ball aloft proudly.

"I don't get this sport," Diaz commented sitting on a crate, her back resting on another a borrowed book in her lap as she watched the humans endeavour to out play the Kaynin at their favourite sport.

Of course it was improvised, the Cricket green was a square of cargo bay that had been discretely cleared by a number of crew carefully redistributing cargo so that they could have a space to exercise and play. The bat had actually been tucked into Octavius's quarters and had been graciously donated to a worthy cause, and the daily game had become almost a ritual of entertainment on an otherwise dull trip.

Derek sat beside her, his feet dangling off the edge of the crate marked food stores, a laptop beside him as he played idly with it, working to program a simple videogame to wile away his own boredom. He naturally hadn't gotten very far, it was supposed to be a martial arts fighting game, but so far his blob like spheres simply punched and kicked, nothing even remotely interesting.

"It's a bit like baseball," Derek said tilting back his ball cap and smiling at her, "well 'like' is more that both hit balls and involve running, but as far as I can tell that's about all there is the same."

She smiled a pretty smile as she looked over the rims of her sunglasses, completely inappropriate for inside the cargo bay of a starship, but then she wasn't dressed that way to sunbathe, she enjoyed the looks she earned from some of the crew who openly gawked at her as she sat and read on her off shifts. A total flirt she loved the attention.

"You just come for the boys," she said with a knowing grin.

"I do not," Derek responded, "unlike you, I seem to be excess baggage. No one's asked me to the engine rooms. So I have to find something to do."

"They're just making sure I'm up on the differences between aircraft and spacecraft so that I can help on the salvage operation. It's a lot of work, be thankful you have so much free time," she adjusted her position and touched his shoulder, "you okay?"

Derek turned back and shrugged, "still not sure what to make of all of this, one day I was going for coffee, next I was being arrested on terrorism charges, then I get stuffed into a freighter bound for... this." He rested his head against the crate, enjoying her light touch, "stupid thing is I always, kinda, wanted to go into space. But... I thought it'd be more exciting than this."

"Well there's the whole lack of window's thing," Diaz commented, she had grown fond of Derek, he was easy going, and unlike the uniforms running around all over the place barking orders and jumping when they had them barked at them, he was down to earth and relaxed. "it's like being in a submarine, just without all the water. You make do till something interesting happens."

"Speaking of interesting," Derek smiled at her wryly.

"I'm not sleeping with you D," Diaz replied laughing, "you're gay, you do know that right?"

"I've told you before, bi-sexual," He shrugged, "sex is sex..."

"There's more to it than sex," Diaz reminded, "you like guys more than you like girls." She reached out and tugged the brim of his hat down over his eyes, "and you're such a sub it's not funny."

"Shut up!" He blushed a little, and quickly tried to change the subject, "what about VG?"

"VG? You sound like one of the crew," Diaz laughed at the nickname that everyone seemed to use in reference to the Admiral, Vee-Gee or ol'Grippy, it depended on who she talked to, either always made her wince and smile, "they love him." She nodded out to the crew batting again, "he's like a god to them, larger than life."

"Yeah but," Derek dropped his voice, "he's so strange, ever catch him jogging in the morning? It's like he's all alone, he doesn't socialize with anyone, splits his time between his cabin, taking his tour of the ship and the bridge. He's so..."

"He's in command," Diaz commented, "an officer is like that, least from what I've heard. They like being isolated and VonGrippen's maintaining a careful aura of command. He knows what he's doing, I bet when he does relax he's pretty cool. What about Ben?"

"The Exec?" Derek nodded, "hot."

"Don't you think about anything else?" Diaz laughed.

"What? I'm wired like that, I blame my genes."

"I blame your jeans too," Diaz scrubbed his scruffy jeans, "I see you flirting."

"I do not!" he protested.

"What about the fur pile?" Diaz grinned, "you're eyes just about pop out of your head whenever you pass by the Kaynin rooms and you see it."

"Stop!" Derek protested a flushed shade of red, "it's just they're cute, and when they're all curled up together it's really nice. Makes me wish I had brothers and sisters..."

"Yeah, um if you're sleeping curled up with your brothers and sisters where I'm from, you tend to get psychiatric treatment," Diaz settled back in to read her book, "you just need to get laid."

"I have a sensor contact designated Sierra-One, bearing Zero-Two-Zero mark Zero-One-Five," Octavius turned excitedly from the console, "contact appears to be adrift, no forward momentum detected."

"Got her," Ben smiled happily.

VonGrippen nodded, opening his mouth to issue orders, but was cut off by Octavius spinning back to the console, "hyperspace event detected, two new contacts designated Sierra-Two and Sierra-Three. Bearing One-Nine-Two mark Three-Two-Two, the second vessel appears to be pursuing the first."

The holographic display swung and rotated as the image zeroed in on the two new vessels the sensor data constructing the images, the lead vessel a bulky white organic shape, like a whale with outriggers running for its life from a twisted metal monstrosity of weapons, hurling energy shots in the direction of the first vessel.

"Sound general quarters," VonGrippen ordered, "switch to passive and go quiet."

"You're not going to figure out what's going on?" Maguire inquired stepping up beside VonGrippen.

VonGrippen shook his head, "these are two alien vessels with advanced technology, and without any kind of information as to who they are, I would rather not drag my ship into the middle of a conflict."

The two officers stood staring at the holographic display showing the highly agile lead vessel dodging and evading as it seemed to ignore vector movement while the other, utilizing a variant on the Ion drive was ponderously slow to turn. It spat out more weapons fire as it charged onwards, both ships closing on the Shisak.

"Should I order us out of the engagement zone?" Ben offered biting his lip and resting on the railing.

VonGrippen shook his head, "if they see us then they've given no sign, plus we have a vested interest in the Icarus. I don't like the idea of withdrawing so that these two," he motioned at the ships in the image, "can destroy her in their crossfire." He moved in stroking his beard, "if I were the lead ship I'd run for the Icarus, and slingshot around that, hoping that Sierra-Three can't manoeuvre round it as fast. It might let them get out of weapons range."

"That's not good," Maguire agreed, "like it or not, we're going to be smack bang in the middle of this."

"Then it's time we announced our presence to our guests," VonGrippen picked up the growler phone, "give me a full broadcast, and I want all our gun ports open." He waited while Octavius flashed him the assent that his orders had been carried out as he lifted the receiver, "attention unidentified vessels, this is the HMS Shisak, you are engaging in tactical operations in and around our vessels..."

There was a crack from one of the speakers, as a Polian voice issued a set of demands, VonGrippen looking up at Ben for a translation.

"He is requesting our assistance, he claims he is under attack from a pirate vessel," Ben clarified.

"Sierra-Three has to out weigh the Shisak ten to one," Maguire warned.

"The odds are even," VonGrippen murmured studying the map and weighing his options, "Polian vessel this is the Shisak, your request for aid has been heard and we agree, but you must alter your course to heading..." he contemplated the map, frustrated that he couldn't get the angle he needed and suddenly climbed up on top of the tactical board, standing in the image he held his hand up measuring by eye, "Two-Nine-Nine mark Zero-Zero-Four."

The Polian responded and Ben translated, "he is complying."

VonGrippen nodded, "alter our own heading to intercept, let's give them some cover fire until they can reach that asteroid belt," he nudged it with his boot, slipping his nuclear missile key from around his neck, and tossing it to Maguire, "I need five nuclear missiles fired off, detonating in a full spread ahead of us."

"Nukes?" Maguire blinked as he caught the key, "VonGrippen I can't..."

"The nuclear warheads Mister Maguire!" VonGrippen said firmly, "if you would be so kind." He knelt and studied the asteroids, "I am designating my targets for the missiles, Tango's one through five, aim for the outer edges I want to channel the debris inwards towards the centre."

Maguire looked at Ben who had come down to the other side of the arming console, both inserting their keys and turning them as the Shisak's nuclear arsenal was armed, five of the weapons ports opening as Maguire leaned in to commence targeting the asteroids VonGrippen had designated.

"Lieutenant Octavius," VonGrippen looked up and across the bridge, "any indication that Sierra-Three perceives us as a threat?"

"Negative," Octavius responded, "it is still pursuing Sierra-Two."

"Well, let's correct that shall we," VonGrippen turned his head, "fire the missiles."

The five self-guided cruise missiles roared from their tubes, shooting up and away from the Shisak as their guidance control system used thrusters to reposition them on course. Streaking past the lead Polian vessel they slammed into the asteroids in a series of detonations that shattered rock and sent debris spinning into a thick cloud ahead of the ships, as the Polian vessel screamed into the newly created dust cloud, a few moments ahead of the Shisak.

Sierra-Three hammered out with its energy weapons, blasting into the cloud trying to hit either vessel, the weapons blasts being refracted by the dust and debris, rendering the energy weapons virtually useless.

"Zero our forward momentum," VonGrippen ordered, "and bring us about one hundred eighty and target two more nuclear weapons on our opponent."

"This is about to take us from a minor annoyance to all out war with that ship," Maguire warned, looking over at VonGrippen, and noticing a hard look on VonGrippen's face he nodded his head, "Aye aye Admiral, targeting as ordered."

"Thank you," VonGrippen hopped down from the tactical board, knotting his hands behind his back, "Fire."

The missiles broke from the dust cloud, exploding into the engine section of the alien vessel, shattering its drives and plunging the large vessel into darkness. The nuclear detonations destroying the stern section and sending the bow spinning lazily into the darkness.

The ship's death throws were echoed by a group of combat drones shrieking out of a clam-like orifice in the ships surface, spiralling attack vessels that screamed down towards the stealth cruiser. Exploding as they seperated into MIRV missiles, hundreds of micro rockets that slammed through the debris cloud and tore into the Shisak's hull, splintering it's upper masts, sheering through it's secondary sensor domes and exploding along the armoured hull.

The Shisak slammed aside from the impacts, debris that had protected them from the energy weapons fire was now becoming a threat to it as they bounced across the damaged armour plating. At a gesture from the Admiral the ship accelerated out of the debris field and back into space, keeping its weapons armed as it swung about the shattered hulk of Sierra-three.

"Damage report?" Maguire called out on instinct, picking himself up from the deck, the red lights across the ships boards said the assessment wasn't positive, the tell tale alarm ringing through the ship, and flashing yellow warning lights resounded in a cacophony of sound.

"Where are the Polian's?" Ben demanded removing his nuclear key and putting it back around his neck, as he searched the scopes.

"Licking their wounds," Octavius suggested as he crawled out from under a collapsed bulkhead, "we lost them in the asteroid field, they could be anywhere in that mess now."

"Not even a thank you," Maguire bellowed above the din, "so much for that..." he winced looking up at the speakers, "what the hell is that?"

"Radiation alarm," VonGrippen replied, climbing up onto a rail and hauling the wires out of the speakers, "it's telling me that the reactor compartments have breached, and we're looking at a leak..."

"What the hell do we do now?" Maguire asked looking at the Admiral as he jumped back down to the deck.

VonGrippen pulled out his watch and glanced at it, looking up and doing a quick mental calculation, "we have hours... at the outset, before the radiation spills out of the reactor compartments..." he glanced over the flickering display boards.

"Could we call the Polian's for help?" Maguire asked.

"Gratitude isn't a Polian concept," VonGrippen responded, "They understand what we just did for them, and that is enough for now. As for us," he gestured to Sierra-one, "Icarus appears all the more vital."

The legendary Icarus, the International Space Agency's crowning achievement, and Humanity's first interstellar starship. Her crumpled stern was blackened and burnt, as if she had been scotched from flying too close to the sun like her namesake. Her hull plates were melted and fused back along her slender neck and lattice support framework back into her drive section. The forward swept wings battered and torn covering ion engines that were ruptured and shattered, the vents that covered the jump drives appeared intact, but everything below the main superstructure appeared little more than a total ruin.

The asteroid, a large, lifeless rock sheathed much of the bow like she had been driven into the rock and left stricken. The results of a mis-timed hyperspace jump, Icarus had been returned to normal space partially phased inside of a large asteroid.

The silence around the bridge spoke volumes. Ben had closed his eyes, his chin resting against his chest. Maguire had turned away, helping himself to coffee, turning every so often to look again in disbelief. While Octavius had sat down on the deck, resting his chin on the lower rail looking depressed. Their best chance at getting home was a flash fried derelict. And the Shisak was rapidly becoming an oversized microwave oven.

Damage control teams had reported that there was no direct way to access the breach, that the shielding around the reactor compartment would protect them for a time, but eventually they would begin to suffer the effects of radiation sickness. Each of them wore a radiation marker attached to their uniforms, a warning that would tell them when the ship became too poisonous for them to continue to reside aboard her.

VonGrippen sat in his command chair, his index finger stroking his beard. All that way, and they had found nothing. The Shisak remained on station about a kilometre from the shattered vessel, floating at the ready, its crew uncertain as to what to do next.

"We should attempt to salvage the computer records," VonGrippen surmised sitting upright, "we came all this way, we should at least find out what happened to that ship."

Maguire nodded, "with respects Admiral, but I'd like to go on any salvage mission..."

VonGrippen nodded, "in the interests of finally putting this," he gestured at the derelict ship, "to rest I want no question that we planted false data. Take the computer programmer Mister Walczak with you, Lieutenant Worth and a group of engineers should round out the boarding party." He got up and pointed to the rear flight deck of the ship just behind the bridge superstructure, "that looks like a courier pad there, and so you should be able to dock one of the dropships to it and get aboard in EVA suits."

Maguire shifted, "just like that? You're going to let me lead the salvage mission, no questions?"

VonGrippen shrugged, "you will find, Commander Maguire, that I am a man of few questions. You are just as interested in discovering what happened here, and I trust the men going with you not to allow anything... untoward happen while you are across there." He sat again in his chair, resting his head back and half closing his eyes, "besides trust begets trust."

The dropship curved around the proud stern of the Icarus, in close the extent of the damage wasn't lost upon the boarding party, and Maguire could appreciate the particular burn patterns around the engines. Icarus had been attacked, but the fact that her pin-point weapons were still stowed and her missile ports were sealed meant that she hadn't fought back.

He breathed tightly, Orion weapons fire. A thought he kept squarely to himself as the dropship pulled down towards the pitted and pockmarked courier pad, angling itself on its tilt boosters to settle heavily into place with a deep clanking, the pilot reporting in to the Shisak that it had docked and that the hatches were being connected.

He picked up the helmet, glad that they had allowed him to wear the American suit he had ejected from the Colombia in. While the rest donned their House VonGrippen gear, he appreciated the difference, looking at Lieutenant Worth who was slapping a magazine into a pulse rifle.

"You won't need that," Maguire murmured.

Dominic looked back and slung the weapon to his shoulder, "we have no idea what's on the other side of that hatch," he gestured, "after watching a little girl tear apart a squad of French soldiers with her mind, I learn to be ready just in case."

Derek looked awkward in his EVA suit, a little too big for his short frame; he had bunched the sleeves up a little and slid a collection of tools into his pockets, the diagnostic laptop strapped over his shoulder. A heavy battlefield variant that fortunately Derek had been able to update with the right programs he needed for a hundred year old starship's computer core.

It was by unspoken assent that Maguire would go through first, dropping down through the hatches and into the broad corridors of the dark starship, his helmet lamp flicking on and shedding light around him at the old style corridors, UN markings on the wall.

Dominic was down next, raising his pulse rifle as he advanced down the hall easing his suspicions by a visual inspection of their surroundings, the cluster of engineers and the computer tech moving down and inside next, Diaz lifting a small gauge, "I am registering atmosphere onboard. But the temperature is below freezing, if we bring some space heaters from the Shisak across it might warm these spaces and we might be able to escape the radiation."

"That's up to VG once we get back," Maguire commented, "for now we just get the ships log and navigation files and make a cursory survey."

They moved forward, passing an emergency access corridor that would have been lined with lifeboats, yet all were missing. Maguire making a note that the crew had enough time to abandon ship, but judging from the manual ejection overrides, the ships computer had not been functional at the time.

Sweeping on behind Dominic, the trained soldier advancing at a hurried pace, bringing up his rifle to clear corners as he led them swiftly through the ship and up to a bank of elevators, pausing again. "Schematics put sickbay down there close to the mess hall, forward from that are crew quarters and one of the main cargo bays. The bridge and computer control are above us."

The emergency stairwell was standing open, and without hesitation they began the ascent past other decks lined with crew quarters and labs. Icarus had been built as a vessel of exploration, numerous spaces set aside for those purposes remained mostly intact, and Maguire mused wryly that if they had to, at least they had the equipment to conduct planetary surveys... that might come in useful if their only way home was radioactive.

Computer control was separated by a massive armoured door, the indications of weapons fire around it. Breaching charges had been used to force open the door and Maguire looked over at Dominic who had set the fingers of his gloved hand into one of the blast holes.

"C-4," Dominic confirmed, "Human beings did this."

A couple of the engineers reached forward, helping to swing the shattered door back, and Derek was the first to duck through the gap, Maguire following him. The round chamber containing the computer core was dark, burnt and damaged sections of the mainframe bore signs of automatic weapons fire. And a dead man lying on the deck had decayed with time, frozen solid where he had fallen.

Derek choked a little at the sight, and Maguire remembered to compliment him later on how well he took the grizzly sight. Bending down to pick up the access card clipped to the Lieutenant Commander's uniform, lifting it up and shaking his head. "Lieutenant Commander Kit Durnham," he lowered it, "it says he was the XO, a British fleet officer."

"Who was the Captain," Derek asked wide eyed as he stared at the damage about him.

"Captain Taggert," Maguire said absently staring down at the dark vat of goo beneath his feet, "he was actually the test pilot of the first Ion drive space craft, the X-105. An American hero..." He gestured to the computers, "can you get what you need?"

Derek shook his head, "not without work, you're standing on the memory core," he pointed down, "I'd need to reactivate the computer to download any information. It's an A.I."

"You're certain?" Maguire asked stepping to the side so he was no longer standing upon it.

"I know a thing or two about this kind of computer," Derek reassured kneeling to touch the dark surface of the glass, "it's largely undamaged just I need to replace a few things, and somehow get some power to it. But once I do I can probably get access to what we need."

The salvage operation had stretched into its fifth day, starting as a cursory examination; the reactivation of the computer core had required equipment and materials be brought across. A pair of portable generators had been assembled in one of the disused labs, and fed power to the Icarus's computer. Space heaters, as per Diaz's suggestion, had been brought across shedding heat over the space making it habitable and allowing the engineers to operate without the bulky EVA suits.

The Shisak remained on station, it's crew evacuated to the deralict, occasionally making short trips, carefully supervised by Doctor Sevano, collecting what they could salvage.

VonGrippen had personally come aboard the derelict as the bridge had finally been opened up. Crewmembers setting up portable floodlights as the Admiral pushed aside trailing wires that had collapsed from a fallen bulkhead, picking his way out into the multi-tiered bridge.

He walked down towards the high observation windows, looking out across her bow at the great rock that had twisted and mangled her prow. His eyes drifting up to his starship the Shisak and back across the field of blue beyond the windows towards the other wreck of Sierra-three.

"How is it coming?" He asked turning back to Maguire who was leaning across a CIC table surrounded by four plotting boards that took up the rear of the bridge.

Maguire looked up from his schematics, "Derek's working on the computer, but it's taking a long time for him to repair everything he needed to before reinitialising it. I have Diaz taking a survey of power distribution systems and she seems positive that the ship's in surprisingly good shape for its ordeal."

VonGrippen touched the blue material of the command chair, the bloodstain on the headrest, and the rent in the material. Someone had been shot in that chair, Captain Taggert more than likely, as he had given the order to engage the hyperdrive.

"In your professional assessment Commander Maguire..."

"Call me Desmond," Maguire said at length dropping his pencil, "after all this we should consider dropping the formalities."

"Ahh, part of trust," VonGrippen nodded, "call me Alex. I was going to ask Desmond, in your professional opinion what happened here?"

"In a word?" Maguire said at length, "mutiny. The ship was rigged for a hyperspace jump, and somehow all hell broke loose. The lower decks of the ship were flash fried and the crew not trapped below abandoned ship. Someone shot the Captain, and blew their way into the computer core, shot it and the Executive officer as well."

"That was my assessment as well," VonGrippen replied, "and the Orion weapons fire on the hull?"

"They must have shot out the engines, if they ignited the fuel supply it would have cooked the lower decks..." Maguire nodded.

"Then it is a safe assessment that the Orions were somehow involved here, their motive is their monopoly on interstellar travel, and their handiwork is evident across the ship. However..."

Maguire nodded, "they had to have help. We'll probably know more once Derek has the computer running again."

VonGrippen rotated the command chair and sat down in it, resting his elbow on one of the arms.

"Shisak to Actual," the radio clipped to his breast pocket chimed for attention with Ben's voice.

"Go ahead Commander," VonGrippen lifted it.

"Sir, Sierra-Two's back. She's closing on our current position and her Commander is asking to speak to you."

"Can you relay?" VonGrippen inquired turning the chair to look up and out of the window at the white vessel sliding closer to them.

"Affirmative" Ben paused as a third voice entered the conversation, the Polian seemed inquisitive as Ben waited before translating, "he is asking if we require assistance in repairing our vessel."

"I am not sure how you can..." VonGrippen began as there was a flare from the centre of the deck and a large canister appeared, followed by three more.

The Polian spoke again, Ben chuckling, "he says these are nano-bots, they are capable of repairing ships systems if correctly programmed, as thanks for your assistance with the pirate vessel he is returning the favour."

"Gratitude?" VonGrippen asked.

"No," Ben clarified as the Polian sounded a little indignant, "more that the Polian Alliance doesn't like debts. He is clearing it before he returns home."

"Tell him that his debt is repaid in full," VonGrippen bowed his head, "and ask if he could show us how they work we can employ them."

"He is transmitting the specifications to the Shisak's computer," Ben reported. "From the looks of it there are a number of applications for this technology, but they may have just supplied us with a means to return to Geldan VII."

"Indeed," VonGrippen murmured, as he watched the Polian ship retract its outrigger drives and leap into hyperspace. Leaving them alone once more.

"What are you thinking?" Maguire asked walking to the canisters and examining the contents.

"I am thinking we may have the means to repair the Icarus," VonGrippen's eyes looked again up at the Shisak slowly flooding with radiation, realizing that in order to accomplish such a feat sacrifices would have to be made. But if it were indeed their only method home without the beacon corridor then they would have to be made. His eyes focused past the Shisak at the pirate vessel, with its advanced weaponry, the bow section still largely intact.

"That's going to take months at best, years more likely," Maguire commented shaking his head, "even with these, we are still going to be rebuilding a ship from virtually the keel up. In deep space, without a dry dock."

"We don't have much of a choice," VonGrippen replied, "unless you want to be sterile and glowing a healthy shade of neon green by the time we get back to somewhere habitable.

VonGrippen sat in the main stateroom of the Icarus. He had commandeered it upon their arrival aboard the ship, a dark room lit by a portable reactor that purred happily in the middle of the room, a noise that, as the hours had worn on, become nothing more than a minor annoyance to him.

He'd chosen it because it offered him reasonable comfort while he worked, away from the cramped decks below. A broad black desk sitting under tall windows that gave him a view of the panorama of space beyond and the coffee pot, a thoughtful gift left behind by the ships former commanding officer, Captain Taggart. When combined with a tin of coffee he'd brought with him, it served well, bubbling away merrily on its little stand behind him. The piles of clipboards and data readers on the desk before him were so uncharacteristic of a man usually so fastidiously neat, but his mind was elsewhere as he worked.

The optical display headset on his head projected his latest quandary, the image appeared to him as if it floated in midair. The Icarus as it had appeared on its launch day. Rotating slowly before his vision the detail of the image was astounding, right down to the light patterns around the docking ports. It was a beautiful ship, but one that had been plagued with problems since its launch.

VonGrippen's hand rested upon the ships logbook, a paper document that Captain Taggart had meticulously maintained with every detail about the ships function since its departure from dry dock. According to him, the Icarus had been over powered, too overpowered it seemed for her time. Her primary power grid had been prone to overloads that had caused ship wide system failures. The collision with the asteroid and the subsequent fusing had damaged and warped the ships superstructure, causing a wealth of other problems that only compounded the original design flaws. Any subsequent refit he attempted would do little to fix those problems, and while he remained confident that the experts he had brought along from Earth would find ways to circumvent those problems. Icarus would be little more than a tapestry of old and new Human technology, patched together with alien devices that were still, mostly, unknown. Technologies that were never designed to work with each other. He was faced with a choice now; rebuild the ship, patch over the problems once again. Or take the ship back to the beginning, taking all the lessons he had learned from the Shisak's construction, and build something new.

Time was the key problem with completely redesigning a vessel. The Shisak had taken over two years to design. And he knew that the retrofitting of the House Fleet with jump drives was a massive project, ten or so years of retrofitting obsolete sub-light ships and modernising them for frontier duty to defend the 'VonGrippen' systems against external threat.

He'd already spent long hours working in that stateroom, working late into the night while his salvage crews toiled to repair what they could of the ship to make it somewhat habitable, to relieve the cramped living conditions aboard the few habitable decks. He was no engineer, but he had a wealth of front line experience and a keen eye for detail, and given the lack of starship designers, that made him the best man for the job.

He at least had the basics in front of him. The blueprint for the Icarus that was tried and tested. It wasn't the ideal platform for the modifications he would require, turning the old explorer into a state of the art warship. But with the engineering crews on the Shisak itching for something to do, he could at least set them to work restoring the vessel while he worked out the details.

Accessing Janes fighting ships he examined the vessels that had come before. The progression from surface warship up to the Colombia and the Shisak, the pinnacles of combat technology. He dismissed anything that hadn't served in space, he needed to remain focused. Space placed its own, obvious, rigors upon ships, and while inspiration could be found in the predecessors, they did little to assist VonGrippen at that moment. He needed a design that would be able t withstand the trials of life in the twenty third century. Designs like the rugged Orion escort cruisers, or even the intrepid Polian monitors or the fearsome predator, Sierra-three.

He chewed on the end of the stylus, dismissing anything other than a heavy cruiser. Shisak had shown him that starships had a taste for independent action, and the situations they found themselves in often required the capacity to act alone. He studied with great interest the design proposals for the Icarus, making careful notes and seeing where the slender, barbed-arrowhead design had come from, and noting the proud prow of the ship. The blade...

HMS Excalibur CVX-11, he penned at the top of a page of notes. A ships name, one that seemed strangely fitting given her situation. Built from the shell of the Icarus.

"Forged from steel and set in stone," VonGrippen murmured sitting back into his seat, his hands resting on the edge of his desk, pushing himself upright, lifting the radio he'd kept on hand. "Lieutenant Octavius, if you would indulge me, I could use some time aboard one of the dropships."

"There are always other options," Octavius replied from behind the pilot's controls, looking over at the Captain, feeling the sense of awe himself at the audacious undertaking VonGrippen was proposing.

"My position is clear," VonGrippen replied staring out of the cockpit window at the sleek, carbon blackened hull before him, "the only road home lays with that ship, and that ship is the key to the colonial freedom."

"Forgive my frankness, sir," Octavius said turning in his chair, "but we have been friends now for five years?"

"Say what's on your mind old friend," VonGrippen replied leaning on the arm of the chair.

"I was wondering why we don't just outfit the Icarus's drives to our own ship and just leave," Octavius shrugged, "it seems the easiest answer."

"Radiation may not be a Kaynin problem, but even your systems will succumb eventually. Not to mention that the jump pods, reactors, the Nav computer, and the Excalibur's mainframe are all vital components of the drive system." VonGrippen shook his head, looking across the void at the shattered ship, "and even if we could dismantle them and had the room aboard Shisak to incorporate the technology, the Shisak's reactors could never support the power needed to run them. We built her close to capacity as it was, then we added the Orion style drives... so our only viable option of ever making it home is this ship."

She floated quietly in the darkness of space, her forward swept wings, her proud lines dark against the night sky, lit by the Shisak's flood lamps, and the occasional light from within the bridge superstructure where the salvage crews were working.

A ship with room enough for cargo storage, a full flight deck, science labs, a full sickbay...

All VonGrippen had to do was find a way to breath life into the starship. He could always arm her, but finding that spark of life... the one that turned a dark hulk of steel and charred dreams into a living, vibrant place.

"What you see before you, my old friend," VonGrippen nodded, "is the culmination of thousands of years of technology, construction evolution and human ingenuity. It was a flagship to mankind, a wakeup call that we were at last ready to reach for the stars. It was her right to sail between them, and I am going to restore her legacy."

Octavius smiled at VonGrippen's rare moment of poetry, guiding the claustrophobic dropship back towards the ship, "there are easier ways, perhaps, of accomplishing that task." Octavius suggested.

VonGrippen shook his head, unbuckling himself from the seat as he used the cargo webbing to haul himself back into the body of the dropship, "none as effective as communing with her directly. And I can't do that unless I see her up close for myself."

"Recklessly sentimental," Octavius shook his head with a wry grin, pulling the ship in towards the dark hull, "but you are the Admiral."

VonGrippen nodded slipping out of his uniform and stepping into the EVA suit. He flipped the hardened plates over, latching them in place firmly, checking the pressure gauges mounted on the back of the sleeve as he hefted the helmet up and on, closing the faceplate and taking a deep breath from the tinny air supply.

Behind him, the internal pressure door that separated the cockpit of the dropship from the main compartment slid closed. A few moments later the side hatches of the drop ship retracted and VonGrippen was staring into space, across an impossibly far void towards the darkened hulk that had once been Icarus. Listening to the sound of his breathing in the EVA suit. Ordinarily he would be feeling claustrophobic in the restrictive space, but he was faced with the sheer enormity of space for the first time.

That seemed funny to a man that had captained a starship, the simple fact that he had never been face to face with the one true nemesis he had. But there he stood, hand resting on the inside of the hatch, knowing that if he mis-stepped then it would take a long time before Octavius could bring the dropship about and rescue him.

He steadied himself, stepping out into the void, pushing off from the dropship and jumping away from its artificial gravity well. It was strangely like flying. A sudden feeling of helplessness, of thinking how utterly powerless he was. He, who was normally in control, life was set to remind him lately exactly how helpless he was, how Human.

Landing nimbly on the upper hull of the Icarus derelict. The gravity well projected by the vessel still strong enough to catch him, but it was so low that it was inconsequential beyond that. It made him wonder again at the vastness of the structure he was standing upon. How monumental its construction had been.

He touched her, kneeling just to lay a gloved hand upon her battle scarred hull, looking up at the wreckage of the alien vessel Sierra-three, and back towards the Shisak that had served him so well.

Octavius was still hovering protectively over him, and VonGrippen motioned towards a hatch in the bridge superstructure a hundred meters or so ahead of him marked out with faint yellow paint to distinguish it from the rest of the hull. The Captain activating the magnetic pads on the boots of his EVA suit and started the slow trek towards the hatch, aware of Octavius following him silently.

Icarus's length easily matched a trio of Nimitz-class aircraft carriers laying bow to stern, and with the rent holes in her hull it was a slow journey. And VonGrippen mused how eerily strange it was to be standing on the hull of a starship. The dark hull was actually a gun-metal grey upon closer inspection, a flat matte that seemed to absorbed the darkness around the ship. So vastly different from the Ghost white she had been when she had launched.

He activated the hatch, smiling as the hatch cycled him inside, the air filling the airlock as he stripped off his helmet and popped it under his arm. He changed out of it, removing a simple white shirt and black slacks from the backpack he had carried with him, not bothering to put boots on as the inner-hatch finally slid open on the opposite side of the bridge access way. Across from him, the elevators and the emergency stairwell. Salvage crew looking over at the Admiral as he made an unorthodox return to the ship.

"I am going to have to be alone for about an hour," VonGrippen stated simply as he walked out into the bridge, looking at the crews, "report back to the Exec and inform him that I want him to begin stripping the Shisak down," he stopped and looked about him, "tell him to take everything from fixtures to life boats."

The crew rose, moving out from the bridge, the small portable reactors supplying power to the limited consoles that were operational. The elevator slid closed as they left the Admiral alone with the ship.

VonGrippen walked forward and into the cavernous bridge area. The simplest of control systems were operational, still in their pre-commissioning fashion. And his breathing was the only sound that broke the silence about him. He could feel that silence echo, echo on. The ship was watching him, waiting for him, he could sense it. He was doing the same, he supposed that it was only fair. He found the command chair and sat down, looking about him.

Derek had worked hard; the main computer was ready for its re-initialisation, the flickering light from a small display screen on the arm of the command chair flashed for his attention. And VonGrippen tapped the corresponding control, sitting back again, crossing one leg over the other as he waited.

There was a faint crack from a blast plate as it adjusted to the new ambient temperature aboard the ship as the life support systems came online. He smiled, the faint sound had almost sounded like a question. The ships first word to him. He didn't look up; he simply pulled a notebook from his pocket as he began to work, choosing his words with care as he spoke.

"Alexander Richard VonGrippen," he answered, "pleased to meet you as well."

He felt the flush of something in the back of his mind. Something alien, probing him, a flicker but then it was gone. Almost as if he had imagined it. And silence descended over the pair as every so often VonGrippen would take notes, continuing to wait.

A twitter from a console as it regulated power levels, drawing from the portable reactors, supplying more power to the other stations. Spreading from one to the next as they sprang to life, red warning lights flaring across them, casting the room in a shadow of red.

There was a tentative prod, increasing as confidence seeped into it. Enough to cause VonGrippen to look up from the notebook curiously.

"I am an Admiral," he replied looking over at the panel that had made the noise, "it seems you and I were cut from similar cloth."

He felt the confusion, as a console beeped. And there was no doubt now that the ship was attempting to communicate with him.

VonGrippen set the notebook aside as he rested a hand on the arm of the chair, "I look to the stars. When I was a boy, I wondered what it would be like to be out amongst them, exploring. Much like yourself."

There was a twitter, soft, almost sarcastic.

VonGrippen chuckled, "yes, that was presuming you had a choice in the matter. But you must admit that being a starship is a proud heritage, and I am certain it is preferable to being a toaster oven." He reached down, into his pack and pulled out a thermos of coffee, pouring himself a cup as he settled in again.

There was another, single beep as the computer began an initialisation diagnostic of the ships systems. The captain smiled, it was almost as if he'd ruffled the ships feathers.

"And a grand starship you are as well," he commented reading over his notes again, "you are at least four times the size of my current ship, most of which is taken up by your additional systems. But it also gives any potential passengers you have, a little legroom. I must admit... you impress me."

There was a rush, a sudden realization of pain. And VonGrippen sat upright, setting his coffee down.

"What is it?" he asked, worry tingeing his tone.

The diagnostic display highlighted the system failures, while an environmental station beeped a warning as it registered only VonGrippen on the bridge, and the clustered crew members on the decks below, numbering far less than the crew she was supposed to have. There was moments fear from the ship, followed by sheer panic.

"Steady!" VonGrippen's tone deepened calmingly, "I'm here for you. You'll be all right..."

He knew it didn't make much sense, trying to comfort a starship, but she was alone and afraid. Waking to a complete stranger onboard, bereft of her crew, wounded. VonGrippen knew that the ship had every right to panic.

VonGrippen sipped from the thermos mug, thinking a moment, "I am going no where. I am right here for you."

There was a pause in the fear, and a question flooded into him, something he couldn't pick up from just a flood of emotions projected at him. He struggled to guess, but shook his head, "I don't understand..." he squeezed the arm of the chair, "but if you were asking what happened, we don't know. Not yet."

The Admiral closed his eyes, settling back to let the ship babble and twitter at him. Communicating with her new captain, scared but like any youngling, fear subsided to curiosity. And despite her pain, she seemed to draw strength from him. Occasionally he would respond, answering a curious beep. Knowing that she probably didn't understand him, as much as he didn't truly understand her, but the conversation they had went far beyond that of man and machine. It was the founding of a friendship that was born out of an understanding and support of a stranger in a time of need.

He would stay with her for as long as he could, working from the Command chair as many of the major sections on the bridge were upgraded or repaired. Engineers working around him with arc welders to connect systems, and initiate repairs.

The decision to incorporate Orion holographic technology had been made early, and almost as soon as the system had been incorporated into the main computer, she studied it. Learning all she could about its application, a child, hungry for knowledge. And through it, she gained the capacity to bridge the yawning gap that existed between her and the man that sat in her Command Chair.

"What is going on?" Maguire asked as he came out onto the bridge as the holographic displays refocused as an image flared to life on the deck just before the command chair, wearing an ISA flight suit, commander's epaulettes and glasses on his face.

"Commander Durnham," Maguire took a step around the hologram, startled as if seeing a ghost.

"Of a fashion," The hologram responded, blinking in confusion of his own, "Is this the rescue mission?" He turned from the strange officer in the command chair to the American Captain beside him.

"Admiral Alexander VonGrippen," VonGrippen stood feeling the confusion melt from him as he rose, and he realized at that moment that the ship was reaching out to him again.

"I..." Commander Durnham stared at himself, flickering with static while the projector recalibrated itself, "I am afraid I don't understand what's going on... why?" he passed his hand through a console, fear and confusion spreading on his face as he snatched it back.