Dark Space: Origin Read Online Free PDF

corpsman, like Terl. He’d been filling in on the bridge just as Terl was currently serving as an ISF officer. The med bay was already full of qualified personnel, since by some twist of fate they had more corpsmen on board than they knew what to do with. For almost every other role on board the Defiant , properly trained personnel were few and far between.
    “At ease, Petty Officer,” Caldin said. Goldrim had done his job well during the Battle of Forlax, and Caldin had promoted him to a petty officer third class. “Have you seen anything on the scopes?”
    Goldrim hesitated, but then shook his head. “No, ma’am. I would have reported even the slightest blip.”
    “What about the logs?”
    Goldrim shook his head again. “I checked them as soon as I got to my post. Also clear.”
    Caldin nodded and walked up to the viewports to gaze out over the topside of the Defiant . She traced the rugged lines of the ship to the barrels of the main beam cannons. They were locked in the forward position, ready and waiting for action. Less notable from this distance were an odd half a dozen pulse laser turrets which were a part of the cruiser’s AMS (anti-missile system). Since the cruiser was so undermanned, they had to pick where to assign gunners—beam cannons, AMS, missiles, or some combination. With the recent loss of 10 more nova pilots—some of whom had been drafted from gunnery positions—they were now down to a total crew count of just 62, and three of those had left aboard the Rescue— including her chief engineer, Petty Officer First Class Cobrale Delayn. That middle-aged man was irreplaceable to her. He was the best damn greaser she had. By contrast, the junior engineer who was his temporary replacement seemed very uncomfortable in his role on the bridge. His movements at the engineering station were jerky and unsure, his arms and legs constantly fidgeting.
    Caldin’s indigo eyes wandered up from the hull to the sparkling backdrop of stars. It was hard to imagine the worlds orbiting those pinpricks of light now teeming with savage aliens when not so long ago they’d been home to trillions of humans, each one going about their daily life: waking up, going to work or school, coming home, spending time with their families . . . life as usual. Caldin couldn’t imagine what life as usual might be for Sythians or Gors.
    “I think I’ve got something!” Petty Officer Goldrim called out, interrupting Caldin’s thoughts.
    “You think? I’m going to need an explanation for that, Goldrim! What do you see out there?”
    “Scratch that—contact confirmed! It’s a Sythian cruiser! They’re de-cloaking—dead ahead!”
    “Red alert!” Caldin said.
    The siren sounded and the lights on the bridge dimmed to a bloody red.
    “How far are they?” Caldin asked as she hurried back to the captain’s table.
    “Over 2000 klicks,” Goldrim replied.
    “That’s well out of weapons range,” Caldin said, gazing into the grid rising from the captain’s table. “Why would they de-cloak that far out and give up the element of surprise?”
    “I’m not sure,” Goldrim said. “They’re flying toward us at a modest speed, and their shields are up.” Caldin tapped the red, roughly elliptically-shaped gravidar icon of the enemy contact to bring up more detailed target info. A gleaming, teardrop-shaped ship appeared projected above the grid. It was a Sythian cutter-class cruiser, and just 98 meters long.
    “Should we move to engage?” Petty Sergeant Corr asked from the helm.
    Caldin held up a hand. “The only reason we can see them is because they want us to see them. They’re trying to lure us in. . . .”
    “Why bother?” Deck Officer Gorvan asked from the gunnery station. “If they have a cloaking device, they could ambush us whether they lure us in or not.”
    “Yes . . .” Caldin rubbed the back of her neck. “Unless they don’t think they have enough force to take us down in a straight fight. Then they might