The Einstein-Rosen Incident

Anyone who looked at the darkly lit cabin of the ship could tell that most of the crew was sleep deprived and were not fit for guiding the ship to its destination as it glided silent with  the rumble of its engines lost in the vacuum of space.  The members of the cargo ship’s flight personnel had not slept for countless hours, losing track of time being strapped into their chairs in favor of efficiency in the flight. It was not without a cost as many of the members had their backs bent looking at the displays before them, the light giving their faces a sickly color. Because the ship itself was relatively small compared to other long distance space-faring vessels, it meant that the crew was small as well with only seventeen members available in the cabin at the time, whereas larger ships may have thirty or more. The rest of the crew designated to fly was sleeping, resting after their hours of navigating the stars.

//Radio Transmission Begin//

[Date: 6.7.2064] [Time Elapsed: 75 Days]

SUNRAY MINOR: Area Flight Command [Amadeus Class Light Cruiser]

STINGRAY 4-2: Dropship Flight 25-2 [Taiidan Dropship]

[14:52] Sunray Minor: Understand. Airborne. One, four, five, two (1452) Zulu. Do you have an ETA? Over.

[14.52] STINGRAY 4-2: Estimated 2 hours 40 minutes, enroute. I’ll show a log time in a couple of minutes.

[14:52] SUNRAY MINOR: Roger, Stingray 4-2. Command Post listening. Out.

[14.54] STINGRAY 4-2: Pickup 1430 Zulu, conditions please.

[14:54] SUNRAY MINOR: Standby Stingray, I have weather officer I can give it to you know, if you are ready to copy. Over.

[14.54] STINGRAY 4-2: Okay, go ahead.

[14:55] SUNRAY MINOR:  1430 Zulu weather, 90700 broken, temperature – negative four-five-four, ramp temperature – negative three-seven-eight, altimeter setting two-niner, decemil eight-seven. I just talked with the Ramp and they indicate radiation is darkening rather rapidly there, suggesting reroute around the area.

[14.55] STINGRAY 4-2: Roger. Copy, thank you, out.

[14:55] SUNRAY MINOR:   Weather out. Good Luck.

//Radio Transmission End//

Hearing this news, the head radio operator felt his heart drop at the news. An area with the newly discovered dark type radiation could only mean dangerous conditions to the ship, as it meant that it was one of the many short distance wormholes that riddled  the area like cheese. He stared at the monitor tight lipped, unsure of what to tell the commander. The ship was expected to deliver the cargo the destination, and they couldn't afford to steer around the phenomenon without dropping the expected schedule, as guiding the ship around the anomaly would cost days. They were assigned to transport several squads of Shock Troopers to the main ship acting like a central command before the planned exploration was to begin.

The galaxy itself was discovered only years earlier, but unlike others being discovered now that space travel has been perfected, the galaxy was discovered to have several planets what could support life scattered along the inner ring.  It was unknown whether or not life actually existed among them, but even if there wasn’t the planets could be used for a momentous step in human development: Planetary Colonization. This would be the next leap of Mankind, first begun by the Space Race that had started more than a hundred years ago.

The radio officer snapped back to attention as he realized he had let his mind wander, which was common to happen in the recycled air that the crew was inhaling. He rubbed his eyes, preparing himself to be the bearer of bad news. The cabin area was divided into two rooms, with the pilot and co-pilot sitting in the forward facing room, along with the commander and head navigator residing in the seats located slightly elevated and behind the pilots.

Snippets of a quiet conversation that the Navigator and the Commander were sharing floated to him, almost muffled by low hum the electronics produced.  The hum paired with the silence seemed crushing, and the radio operator wanted to clap, whistle, or do anything that would shatter the disturbingly placid atmosphere in the room. As he unstrapped himself and floated up, he felt light-headed as he usually did in the lack of gravity, and he started making his way towards the commander by using the handholds placed strategically thought the compartment. As he did so he passed his crewmates all looking at their own monitors with the same blank expression that he had himself a few minutes earlier. The man missed a handhold, because the dim red strip lighting embedded to the floor of the cabin offered little illumination and because of his own drowsiness. When he finally made it the other room he placed his hand on the doorframe to steady himself and waited, as the conversation was still in progress and the commander showed no eagerness to face the radio operator. The man sighed, and closed his eyes hoping to rest them.

When the Commander finished his story he turned to the man he recognized as the Head Radio Officer standing before him who seemed barely awake, unless he could sleep without drifting away. He cleared his throat, and the man snapped to attention clumsily. The radio officer then began to panic, as he had accidentally pushed himself off the rubber seal that separated the two main rooms in case of a breach occurs to either room. Trying to stop himself from drifting into the pilots the man grabbed anything he could, his arms catching dashboard of switches. The Navigator of the ship watched him, amused at the man while the Commander tried to help him situate himself.

When all was sorted and the man was brought to a stable position, he began to recite the message the ship had received. As he did so, the both the Commander and the Navigator watched intently. They both listened without comment and the Navigator periodically checked his screen for the danger the Radio Officer was informing them of.

He had barely finished before being interrupted by seemingly random actions preformed by the pilots in front of them whom had been ignored by the Commander. Instantaneously a person could detect that there was a problem as the movements of the pilots were hurried and panicked as they reached for switches above them. As one of them glanced back a look of terror could be seen as he realized that the control panel before the Navigator was not set correctly, and was disturbed by the Head Radio Operator’s loss of control.

“Oh no, that can’t be good,” said the pilot. Even with his voice barely heard because of the helmet he was wearing they could hear the panic that was slipping in. “It seems like the radar has been switched into short distance readings.”

“What does that mean?” the Radio Officer stammered, fearing the worst as the Commander sat beside him without an input to the problem, which worried him.

It was the Navigator’s turn to reply, “It means that we have approached a large amount of space debris at little warning at high speeds. Quite a bit of space debris, practically unavoidable, and we are already in a less dense part of the cloud. You better send a message for help.”

“I agree and suggest you ask for an engineer ship.” The helmet of the pilot turned back to the HUD. “We may have a bit of trouble.”

The now devastated man now guided himself back to his chair, ready to make right what he had done without hesitation. He prepared the system, linking a channel to the Flight Command to ask for any help.

{{COMMUNICATIONS: CONNECTED}}

//Radio Transmission Begin//

[Date: 6.7.2064] [Time Elapsed: 75 Days]

SUNRAY MINOR: Area Flight Command [Amadeus Class Light Cruiser]

STINGRAY 4-2: Dropship Flight 25-2 [Taiidan Dropship]

[15:11] STINGRAY 4-2: This is Stingray 4-2, asking for assistance. Requesting units to assist in guidance from a hazardous situation.

[15:11] SUNRAY MINOR: We read, Stingray 4-2. We will be sending in Engineering TC-141’s then?

[15:11] STINGRAY 4-2: They will be greatly appreciated. What will the ETA be?

[15:11] SUNRAY MINOR: One moment, we are reading your location now.

[15:11] STINGRAY 4-2: Understood.

[15:12] SUNRAY MINOR: There seems to be a problem with the positioning systems. We need a manual read.

[15:12] STINGRAY 4-2: One, seven, nine, two (1792) Zulu zone. Coordinates are 38.51155, -82.705388, 38.505447, -82.694102

[15:12] SUNRAY MINOR: What are you doing there? We sent an all-call warning all ships to avoid that area. We’ve found that it is an unmarked wormhole. You’re only 21 klicks away.

[15:13] STINGRAY 4-2: {unintelligible speech in distance}

[15:13] SUNRAY MINOR: 20 klicks. Are you still there?

[15:13] STINGRAY 4-2: {unintelligible yelling in distance; some scuffling}

[15:13] SUNRAY MINOR: 19 klicks. Respond immediately.

//Radio Transmission End//

{{COMMUNICATIONS: CONNECTED LOST}}

“We have to get out of here!” The man screamed as he rushed to the pilots, leaving his headset to float in the place. His voice was almost drowned out by the earsplitting sirens that had begun to blast in the ship.

“What do you think we’ve been trying to do? We’re being sucked in, there’s too much weight!” the copilot yelled back without taking his eyes off the swirling cloud in the distance which menacingly threatened to swallow them whole.

“Drop some cargo!” the Radio Operator instinctively suggested, before remembering the cargo was human. By now everyone was in a mad frenzy trying to do anything to save the ship, and this may be a viable option to some.

“We can’t do anything but that now,” said the Commander quietly as he watched the proceedings from his seat, “nothing else we can do.”

“Sir, what are you implying, we can’t do-,” began the pilot, before he was interrupted by the Commander shoving his hand on button releasing twenty-four soldiers into deep space in cryogenic sleep pods.

A single monotone voice spoke out the words, “Releasing cargo.”

The Commander stared at the back of the pilot’s seat with an unfocused glare, not speaking a word. Everyone stood silent as the pilot started guiding the ship away from the threat, the copilot shutting off the alarms. A large, flat grey container began to loom under the ship, making its way towards the wormhole.

[Three Days Later]

The Kaidan Class Heavy Cruiser was drifting in high orbit off one of the many solar systems’ gas giants. The ship itself was indescribably large, and frigates were comparable to bees flying around the hive. The ship was the ship that would spearhead human exploration of the last frontier, and the thousands of humans working within it were propelling it forward.

The Radio Officer was lying on his bed in the crew quarters of the massive command ship after the incident. The bed itself was part of a bunk bed so he had little room to relax, but he did his best to make it home, taping pictures of his children on the underside of the bunk above him. He wondered what the parents of the soldiers in the cargo bay would think when they received the formal letters. Had he seriously let two dozen men and women die so easily without ceremony? The publicized news broadcast of the event didn't make it any better, crediting the Commander for the decision he made to save the ship but criticizing the navy for not addressing the danger of wormholes prior to the accident. He sighed, closing his eyes as to block out all the problems in life without avail. The man fell into a deep slumber having troubled dreams about the soldiers who were also sleeping, and may never wake.

In the next morning, the man still rose and prepared to face the day before him. He was almost unfazed by the memories that troubled him the night before, now that he had duties to attend to.