Hyperion

"I'd prefer you stay on the bridge for a while, if you don't mind, Admiral."

Ripley shook his head. "Remember what I said? This is sink or swim time, and you're the one who has to shoulder the load now. Just remember...delegate to your department heads," he said as he turned and made his way down to Level Three and to the Medical Department.

Ames was sitting up today, working with a respiratory therapist as he walked in. She'd been hypoxic for six minutes, hard up against the line -- and so about half past dead. Another minute and she'd have suffered potentially lethal brain damage; as things stood now, Ames was confused and her memory was seriously impaired. He talked with Doc Eastman about her current prognosis, because that information would have to make it back to Fleet HQ as soon as they jumped back to the Terran system, then he stopped by her bed to say hello.

"I know you, don't I?" Ames said and Ripley nodded and smiled as he took her hand.

"That's right! How does your chest feel today? Still heavy?"

"Better."

"Lucy? Do you remember acceleration? Heavy acceleration?"

Her eyes narrowed and he could see her sifting through a jumble of disjointed fragments of memory, searching for the meaning behind each word. "F=MA?" she finally asked, and Ripley nodded.

"Good! It's coming back to you! Excellent. Do you remember you're on a ship?"

"Ship?"

"That's right. Hyperion. Do you remember the name?"

"Hyperion?"

"Yes, that's right. I'm going to have the ship's acceleration display going for you down here so you can watch, so you can feel and remember. You call me if you have any questions, okay?"

"Denton. Your name is Denton."

He smiled again. "You got it, Darlin'. Now do your exercises and I'll check in with you when we go to zero G."

"Zero G? That means floating, right?"

"Yup. Acceleration starts pretty soon, so you better have something to drink now."

"Okay. I understand."

He smiled then made his way up to the bridge, and there he found Brennan issuing orders and getting the ship ready -- so he watched her for a few minutes before he checked in with her.

"What's our fuel state?" he asked as he walked up to her chair.

"Ninety-six percent at minus two-seventy C. It should accelerate with the ship reasonably well."

"Still no hydrogen sources in the area?"

"Nothing. Bone dry."

"We're going to have to send one of the DEs back through the Alderson Point, get more tanker support headed this way."

"I'll let the Wilson know."

"What's her fuel state now?"

"All ships can tank two more times; after that we'll be down to ion drives."

"We couldn't hit a jump point on those."

"I know, Admiral. If we hit BC4 just right we'll be carrying so much delta-V we won't need to tank until we turn to head back to Capella."

Ripley shook his head. "We'll be carrying too much to turn around out there without another slingshot."

"That company ship...? You really think it's possible she jumped in-system using new Alderson Points?"

"It's either that or the Company has developed an FTL drive."

"You really don't trust them, do you?"

"Not at all. We're little more than a nuisance to them, and don't you ever forget that. If we get in a position to keep them from their objective, they'll try to take us out."

"Yessir."

"One more thing. When we approach BC4 I'm going to wake up my Gordon. The two of us are going to go down to the surface and see if we can pick up a signal from Covenant's Walter. You'll need to work out the trajectories for an elongated orbit, and I understand that won't be easy on me, but I'd like to be prepared for the unexpected."

"Denton," Louise Brennan whispered, "are you out of your fucking mind?"

"I've worked out the approach, so yes, I appreciate the risks."

"If you miss our flyby...that's it, Admiral. As in...that's all she wrote, id you know what I mean? You'll be stranded down there and, well, we might not make it back that way again, ya know?"

"Understood."

"You really think that Android is worth the risk? And going down with a unit you've just decommissioned."

"I guess we'll find out, won't we? But there are too many unanswered questions, too many loose ends. And we need answers."

"Have you told Admiral Adams?"

"No, and I'm not going to. And...you aren't either -- if you get my drift?"

"I do, sir."

The intercom crackled to life. "Admiral to COMMs. Admiral Ripley, incoming message in COMMs."

"How long to our mid-course correction?" he asked Brennan.

"As soon as you make it back to your cabin, sir," Brennan smiled.

"Right." He turned and made his way up to CIC then to the scanner outside the radio shack's door. He was in such a rush he blew his first retina scan and had to let it reset then rescan his eye, and once inside he took a deep breath before doing the second scan, then he found he had a personal note from Judy Caruthers on Patton. And it was marked Personal and Confidential...

He decrypted the file and noted it was a very small video file, so he started playback and sat back to watch...

"Denton, I just wanted to let you know how much I love you, and before things get too hectic I wanted to tell you I'm pregnant. Maybe we'll have time to talk about things after we rendezvous at Beta Capella 4? Anyway, I'm thinking about you all the time, but there are times when you're all I can think about. Well, okay, enough of that," she said, wiping away a tear, "but I wanted you to know where things stand, and I needed to tell you to take care and that hopefully we'll see each other soon."

The screen blackened and he almost expected to find his Gordon standing behind him, waiting to make some sort of off color comment...but no...all he found was a silent, ice-cold room full of computers and stacks of radios. He downloaded the file and cleared the cache, then made his way down to his cabin and strapped into his acceleration couch.

"Ripley to Brennan. I'm strapped in, ready when you are." He studied her face on the monitor, then he nodded and smiled.

"You alright, Denton?"

He bunched his lips and nodded. "Let's get this road on the show, Captain."

She smiled at this habitual inversion of his, then she nodded and signed off. He put Judy's file in the drive and opened the file and pressed play again, and again and again...

Until acceleration warnings sounded throughout Hyperion, and then her main drive flared. The sudden return of heavy G forces was staggering, even in his couch, but still he looked at Judy's image on the screen. With the main drive operating at 100% the Field was down, and Ripley watched the live feed from the Schmidt camera then he turned back to Judy on the split screen; he could just make out Beta Capella 4 and he knew she was out there somewhere. It was perhaps only natural as his mind drifted along -- wondering what else was waiting for him out there -- but even so, all he could do was smile at his unfolding life.

"Pregnant, huh..." he finally said. "Well ain't that a kick in the tail." His apparent weight kept increasing until it hurt to raise his head, but still he smiled at all the unexpected things still waiting for him out there.

Chapter Seven

Out of the night and out of the dark...

USNSF Hyperion                                                    10 August 2105

Captain Brennan looked at Ripley -- then at Ripley's reactivated Gordon -- pure distrust manifest in her eyes, but more importantly in her heart. And now she had a very bad feeling about this stunt; Admiral Adams would haul her up before a review board for letting Ripley do this without even mentioning it beforehand, let alone her not approving of such a dangerous and unauthorized side-trip. But the truth be told...she understood Ripley's motives. Walter was the one big unanswered question, and by going after Covenant and the Company ship she realized that question had been shoved aside, pushed from further consideration -- and Ripley just wasn't having any part of it...

The cooperative Walter from Engineering was sitting at the the shuttle's helm, while Gordon sat at the ECM panel looking for any sign of Covenant's Walter on his displays, leaving Ripley free to keep an eye on both synthetics.

"Don't look so upset, Louise..." he said to the concern he saw in her soul.

"You shouldn't be doing this, Admiral. We should send one of the Marines."

But Ripley simply shook his head. "Creativity flourishes when tradition gives way to need..."

"And just what the Hell is that supposed to mean, Denton?"

He chuckled. "I think, back in the day when they still played football, they called this a Hail Mary Pass..."

But Brennan just shrugged. "I still don't get it. Why you...?"

"I know what the questions are, Louise. You can't look for answers unless you know what questions to ask. Besides, this was all my idea, Captain. I can't ask anyone to fade the heat, to take all the risk for this one."

"Alright," Brennan said, nodding her tacit approval. "If you follow the plotted re-entry you'll have fifteen minutes of loiter time before you have to make your return burn. Sixteen minutes and you'll spend the rest of your life in orbit. Got it, Skipper?"

"Got it. Uh, if that ends up being the case I've left a video file on my public drive for you. It'll be worth your while to read it in case we screw the pooch down there."

"Understood." He thought he saw a tear in her eye so he turned away.

Ripley looked at the countdown timer on the cockpit panel, then he nodded at Walter and the shuttle's doors began closing -- so Captain Brennan stepped off the loading ramp and fired off a salute before she turned and left the hanger deck.

"All systems nominal, Admiral," Walter said as he continued scanning his panel. "Hanger deck depressurizing, all systems nominal."

"Okay," Ripley sighed, turning and looking at his Gordon unit, and he saw it was wearing headphones and scanning the three possible frequencies that might reveal the exact location of Covenant's Walter. "The citadel is still in darkness, right?"

"Yes, Admiral. Local sunrise begins in eleven minutes. We should arrive over that general location in forty three minutes. Hanger deck depressurized, hanger door one now opening."

"Hyperion to Shuttle One, how do you read?"

Ripley put on his headset and replied. "Hyperion, One, five by five."

"One, Field dropping in ten seconds. You are clear to launch on my mark." The controller began counting down from fifteen and suddenly the view ahead changed from solid black to verdant green as the Field generator cut out and the planet appeared. "Five-four-three-two-one-MARK, and Shuttle One -- you are go for launch!"

The shuttle left the bay at 25 meters per second and once she was a hundred meters off the port beam Hyperion's Langston Field reactivated -- leaving nothing but a black hole in space.

"Ticonderoga to Hyperion," Ripley heard Admiral Adams say over the COMMs net, "did you just launch a shuttle?"

Ripley switched his mic over to the ship-to-ship frequency. "Hyperion Actual to Ticonderoga Actual. We're going to swing around the planet for a quick recon of the city down there."

"Denton! Are you on that shuttle?"

"Affirmative. We'll be back up after one orbit."

"Roger. Good luck."

"Gracias, Chica. Hasta luego."

He got no reply from her with that one, so he switched back to Hyperion's TRACON and checked-in. "Hyperion, One, starting roll program and we have the re-entry window."

"Roger," TRAffic CONtrol replied.

"Walter, start the clock."

"Yes, Admiral."

He looked through the shuttle's curved blast-shield and he could see the terrestrial terminator clearly now... 'So the citadel has to be somewhere near that line...' he muttered.

But just then the derelict alien ship came into view, her orbit still stable.

Yet...something didn't look right.

"Hyperion, One, get a camera on the remaining alien ship and transmit the feed to me."

It took a minute but a live feed soon popped up on one of the cockpits displays and he studied the image for a moment. "Hyperion, One -- am I looking at battle damage on the near side of that ship?"

The image flickered and the magnification increased tenfold. Now he could see 'men' in hard spacesuits were firing lasers into the ship -- and Ripley gasped when he saw smaller white creatures pushing off the ship, flinging themselves towards the space-suited 'men'...

Ripley studied the situation for a nanosecond -- then he switched to the primary fleet channel. "Hyperion Actual to all captains. We're committed to re-entry now, but we've got to try and effect a rescue of that ship's crew, and I can see several going EVA now. Ticonderoga, detach one of your DEs and a tanker to rendezvous with us after we come back up from the surface; Hyperion, launch Shuttle Two with Marines and a medical detachment to attempt a rescue. I count twenty-three, repeat two-three 'men' in spacesuits exiting the alien ship now, and their suits apparently have maneuvering capability. They seem to be moving away from that ship at high velocity. Brennan? You still on the net?" he said.

"Yes, Admiral."

"What would you do if your ship was overrun, or being overrun by some kind of hostile organism?"

"Probably exactly what you're thinking, Admiral?"

"A scuttling charge. Detonating some kind of self-destruct warhead."

"Admiral...it could be a nuclear device. Should anyone close on that ship when...?"

"Understood. Brennan, I need you to work out an intercept for the men, not the ship, okay? Plot the trajectories of the escaping MMUs and work out plots that take Shuttle Two to the largest group."

"Transferring incoming data to your helm now, Admiral," Brennan said.

"Walter? Stabilize our re-entry and keep us under 1G as long as you can."

"Yes, Admiral."

"Admiral?" his Gordon said excitedly, so Ripley turned to face him. "I have Covenant's Walter unit on channel seven at this time. Would you like to speak to him?"

"You...what?"

"Channel seven, Admiral." Gordon said, smiling.

Ripley stared at Gordon then reached for the panel and hit the touchscreen, but then he also hit the share and record buttons, sending the conversation over the net to both Hyperion and Ticonderoga.

"Hyperion Actual to unit on planet surface, identify."

"Staff officer Walter Weyland from the colonization ship Covenant."

"Transmit your identicode -- now."

Gordon looked at the screen and nodded. "Identity confirmed, Admiral."

"Walter, what's your status?"

"Compromised."

"Elaborate."

"I am located in a locked room in the city center, on top of a small building with a scanning radio left by Covenant's landing party. There are usually several hostile organisms nearby, but they only come out at night."

"Your location will be in daylight in less than a half hour."

"In order to land in this area you will need full sunlight or an extremely bright artificial light source."

"Standby, Walter. We are attempting a rescue operation at this time."

"Of who, may I ask?"

"Well, Walter, they aren't human."

"Sir, in case this might be helpful, please note that I can understand and speak their language."

"Understood and standby. We are entering our re-entry corridor at this time."

Ripley switched channels. "Hyperion, One, how long before Shuttle Two launches?"

"We just finished repressurizing the hanger deck, Admiral. As soon as the Marines are onboard she'll launch. We now have the aliens on radar and our ETA is fourteen minutes, fifteen seconds, given a two minute 1.5G burn to enter their geosynchronous orbit. And Admiral, we have reason to believe that Midshipman Standing Bull is onboard your shuttle."

"Oh fuck," Ripley sighed. "Well, ain't that just peachy, and thanks for all the good news."

"One, Ticonderoga" Admiral Adams said. "Escort and tanker moving to establish orbit at this time. The rest of the Fleet is maintaining course to enter our pre-established transfer corridor."

"Hyperion concurs," Captain Brennan said. "Fifty minutes to our burn."

"Okay, Brennan. We'll try to catch up to you after we get the situation here under control. And Ticonderoga, thanks for the assist."

There was no reply -- which caused Ripley to whistle and grin. "Man, is she pissed, or what?"

"Yes, Admiral," his Gordon replied, "I'd say she is royally pissed."

Ripley turned to the cargo bay and walked down the long corridor to the ramp that led into the cavernous hold. "Oh Thomas?" he called out in sing-song, using his best imitation of an eight-year old prankster's voice. "You can come out and play now!"

One of the weapons lockers creaked open and Midshipman Thomas Standing Bull crept out into the open -- his gaze cast down, his hands behind his back.

Ripley was mad as Hell -- but throwing a shit-fit wasn't going to help anyone just now, so he took a deep breath and nodded. "Get up front and work the COMMs panel, and while you're at it, try to make yourself useful," the Admiral snarled, giving way to the young warrior as he galloped past.

When he got back to the cockpit he looked at the retreating image of the alien ship and he thought he could see smoke, actual smoke, pouring out of a -- new -- and very large hole near the other blast-damaged areas, and that now parts of the ship's hull near her stern were glowing reddish-orange, so he assumed the fight for control of the ship was still ongoing in other parts of the ship.

Then he looked forward...

Hot gases were streaking over the transparent blast shield -- which meant it was time to get strapped-in -- as the shuttle began to enter the planet's atmosphere. "Thomas? Keep the antenna focused on Hyperion as long as you can."

"Yessir."

"Gordon, where's the terminator now, in relation to the citadel?"

"The citadel is now in nautical twilight, Admiral, however Walter has advised that his location is almost completely surrounded by steep-walled mountains. We have lost two-way communications with him as his unit is transmitting on very low power, but I am receiving his beacon."

"Understood," Ripley said, involuntarily clutching the armrests as the shuttle began bouncing through the heavy atmosphere. "Look at the size of those storms!" he sighed as he looked ahead...

Walter looked at his display, then called up another page of data: "Storm-tops are approaching one hundred thousand feet MSL, Admiral, and the atmospheric pressure is unusually high for our current altitude. The lightning observed so far is more powerful than Terran lightning, as well."

"Within design tolerances?"

"Yes, Admiral."

Ripley looked at the main panel and noted they were now 80,000 feet MSL, or above mean sea level, and yet they were now inside a canyon defined by thunderstorms towering overhead -- and the turbulence was growing vicious. "Is that a storm dead ahead?" he asked, pointing at the weather radar display in the middle of the instrument panel.

"Yes, Admiral. The red central portion is the area of highest precipitation."

"Yes, I seem to remember that much. What's the range scale?"

"This number right here, sir," Walter said, pointing at the number 1-2-5-0.

"The center of that storm is, what, almost 700 miles wide?"

"Yes, Admiral."

"What's that hook formation?"

"Tornado," Walter said -- as he compensated for a violent series of sudden drops by adding power.

"Let's say we avoid that area," Ripley sighed, "...okay?"

"Yessir. That might be best..."

"Gordon? You receiving anything?"

"Only the homing beacon, Admiral. Still no COMMs at this time."

"Walter? ETA to the citadel?"

Walter switched screens and engaged the autopilot while he worked through the math. "Straight course ten minutes. Deviating around the storm will add approximately five minutes given this deceleration curve, sir," he added, pointing at diverging velocity vectors on an overhead display.