EMCOTS 5

=Emergence (Concertverse) - Chapter 5=
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==Uncertainty==
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AFS Arcadia, In Orbit
Timkovichi, Coventry Province
Lyran Commonwealth
13 August 3142
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Admiral Marik made sure everything was ready by the time the DropShuttle arrived from the planet.  Generals Bridger and von Istenburg came straight to the wardroom.  The two men had clearly disrupted their sleep to make the conference.
"The drone came back through," Marik said simply, before nodding to Commander Patel.  She tapped a couple keys.
The main holotank came alive with the face of a woman, thin, with paled dark skin.  "To the crew of AFS Emancipator and other ships, this is Captain Greta Gunderson of the JumpShip Grunstern, Ghastilla registry, Atocongo system.  We have downloaded the data you placed on your drone and transmitted it to the authorities on Atocongo for relay to Inarcs and Arcadia.  I can tell you that ships are on their way to investigate the persistent jump field you left behind here, but not when they will arrive.  The Grunstern is remaining on station for the time being and will relay any further word you send through.  Godspeed."
"They sent the astrogation data with the drone on the return trip," Patel said.  "As we were suspecting, we left a similar field at the spot we jumped out of Atocongo's nadir point."
"What of the drone?  Did the transits damage it?"
"No.  From what I've seen of the Emancipator officers' examination, the drone's suffered no major damage and no excess of KF-related radiation."
"Then maybe we could go through safely," Admiral Kruger said.  The hope in his voice was unmistakable.
"Maybe."  Admiral Marik gave Patel a significant glance.
She swallowed and nodded.  "It does appear that way, but I must stress this isn't proof we can.  We don't yet know what it will do to organic tissues.  Given the way we reacted to the jump in, it might be the same, or worse, going back the other way."
"So how do we confirm? Send a volunteer through in a DropShuttle?" Bridger asked.
"Then you may be killing that volunteer.  No, I think first we need to send organic matter through the field."
"What kind of matter?"
"Complicated multi-cell organisms. Plants, animals.  Depending how they endure the transit, we can move on to human testing."
"And have Captain Gunderson tell us if anything survived?  That sounds like it would work."
"So we get the animals needed… how?  Anyone got anything furry we can send through?"
"Ye'll nae be touchin' our mouser, an that's for sure!" Captain Fitzhugh barked.   "Ye dinnae touch a crew's mouser!"
Bridger returned the outburst with an acid glare, but before he could retort Marik spoke up.  "Perhaps we can ask the local authorities for assistance? Timkovichi has native animal and plant life that would work."
"I'm sure Colonel Kell will give us anything we ask," Bridger said.  "Why don't we call him up?"
It took a couple minutes for the connection to go through, and for the burly MechWarrior to show up on the holotank.  "Colonel Evan Kell here, General, Admiral. What can I do you for?" Sleep, it seemed, had restored a rather irreverent sense of humor.
"Ah, a face to the voice," Admiral Marik said pleasantly.  "A pleasure, Colonel, to meet you.  I'm sure you have duties, so I'll keep this short.  We have need of some assistance in our efforts with the portal, namely, plants and animals we can test sending through the field our ships created.  Do you think the Timkovichi authorities can assist?"
"So you're looking for some flowers an' critters to send through, make sure nobody who goes through gets fried? Not the kind of thing we’ve got in stores, but I’ll see what we can round up. Either me or Colonel Allard’ll let you know when we’ve got an idea of what we can scare up."
"Thank you for that, Colonel."
"Not a problem. Like I said yesterday, I owe you big, Admiral, and this isn’t a major thing anyway.  Kell out."
Once the image disappeared, Marik said, "Well, it seems we'll have that going soon.  Have the Emancipator send another drone through, inform the other side of what's coming.  With luck, by the end of the day we may know if we can go home or not."
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The DropShuttle from Arcadia bore its passenger into the heart of the 8th Strikers' bivouac in the ruined quarters of Cirenholm.  They found representatives of the Timkovichi Armored Guard waiting for them, bearing several potted plants and a cage with a group of finger-length reptilians.
While the shuttle crew started securing the creatures, Lieutenant Commander John Albright had his own matter to attend to.  The dark-skinned man, a native of the planet Gannett in the McAffe March of the Royal Federation, took leave of the crew that brought him down and headed for the towering spheroid form of the AFS Charles Sinclair.  Aside from the Medical Department insignia on his red and blue uniform, he blended right in with the personnel milling about on their tasks and routines.
Given his career was primarily naval, Albright had little experience with the DropShips that typically served with the Army. The Sinclair, like most ships that were built around carrying and deploying troops, was under Army Department command, not Naval.  He initially considered entering via the large BattleMech bays, just to spy at the last minute a ramp leading up to an airlock door.  He was nearly to the ramp when met by another officer with a cadeceus pin on her lapel and a Lieutenant's rank strips on her collar.  "Commander Albright?" she asked, her accent explicitly Scandinavian.  "Major Karla Haraldsdottir, Assistant Senior Physician, 8th Strikers Regiment.  Please follow me."
Major Haraldsdottir led Albright aboard the Charles Sinclair. Their path took them several decks up, above the bays and sections where the troops and their equipment was kept, and to clearly marked brig facilities.  MPs waived them through to the cell area, which was empty save one occupant.
Albright was surprised to see that his prospective patient was so young.  She looked anywhere from fourteen to eighteen years of age, of thin build with unkept hair.  Her clothing was a drab green jumpsuit.  His eyes noted the green and white corded bracelet on her wrist, with a green bird insignia on a tab.  She ignored him, remaining balled up on the cot and silent.  "Who is she?"
"Thanks to the locals interviewing some of our prisoners, we know the name is apparently 'Cinthy'," Haraldsdottir replied.  "She was some kind of… ward, or pet, of the enemy leader.  Nobody can get her to speak, so we asked for anyone with psychological training.  The regiment doesn't have a psychiatrist or anything assigned."
"But battleships do," he said in understanding.  "Alright.  I'll need her in a less hostile environment.  Whatever's been done to her, the brig isn't remotely appropriate."
"The soldiers put her here.  She resisted.  Tried to stab, kick, punch, everything."
"I'll be able to take care of myself," he assured the woman.  "I'll need a quiet space away from your barracks.  It's going to take time., too.  See about refreshments?"
"You'll have everything you need.”
Albright nodded and drew in a sigh.  In truth this wasn’t his field either, not directly.  Pediatric psychiatry was a very particular field of study, and his specialty was military psychiatry.  But something’s better than nothing, I just have to establish enough of a rapport that a pediatric psychiatrist can finish the job.
The girl, Cinthy, refused to move at first once the cell was opened.  Grudgingly she stood from the cot, and the look in her eyes told Albright she was thinking of attacking.  “We’ve got food,” he said.  “If you don’t fight you’ll get a better place to sleep.”
The girl’s eyes met his.  “Fighting is life,” she said, her young voice something of a hoarse croak.  “My Khan will expect me to fight when she comes for me.”
“Your Khan?”
“Malvina.  The Chinggis Khan.  The Conquerer.”
“She’s in our infirmary, a quadriplegic,” Haraldsdottir whispered to Albright.
“She is going to kill you all,” the girl predicted confidently.
Given what he’d just been told,, Albright decided not to reveal that quite yet.  “And she’ll be angry if you didn’t fight against us?”
Cinthy didn’t have to nod in answer.  Her haunted eyes told him enough.
The attack came suddenly, but the MPs were ready and far stronger.  Cinthy’s lunge was thwarted by their powerful arms.  She screamed wordlessly at them as she was forced back into the cell, and the door was shut.
Well, it looks like I’ve got quite a hard job ahead of me, Albright thought ruefully.
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On arrival to the command center of the Arcadia, Lord Paul idly noted that the number of on-duty personnel was too high.  He'd anticipated this and said nothing, merely giving a glance to Admiral Rodgers who returned it with a nod.  She'd allowed a fair share of officers and crew in to watch their fates be decided.  Whatever happened, they would be the ones to spread it to the rest  of the crew. He noted a number of senior Lieutenants and mid-ranked Petty Officers, the kind of personnel who were low enough in rate to interact with the bulk of the crew while high enough to wield respect.  Hopefully they would manage whatever happened in a way to benefit morale.
"The DropShuttle is prepared, sir," Commander Cohen said from his station.  "For safety reasons a pilot ejecting themselves was decided against.  We have other shuttles towing the ship up to a working velocity."
"Then we have nothing to do but wait.  Does the other side know?"
"The drone came back through.  They're waiting for our ship to come through and have the planned time of arrival."
"Very well."
Lord Paul took his seat and waited, with strained patience, for their fates to be decided.  If the living things on the shuttle survived, they could safely return home.  If not…
...if not, they were trapped here, exile from families and friends and homes, in a new and dangerous world.
The operation went off without a problem, at least.  They got the shuttle up to 1G  before breaking away.  All hands watched the holoviewer as the squad winged shape flew on, no longer under any power but that of inertia's.  It approached the glowing blue field and entered without any deviation in course.  A bright flash came from the phenomena and the shuttle was gone.
Lord Paul heard quiet prayer from various quarters.  He offered his own, so that the day would come he could return to Atreus, to his wife and family, his children.  He didn't want to be trapped in this place.
The seconds stretched like minutes. Minutes like hours.  And yet they knew it would be up to an hour before Gunderson and her crews could catch the shuttle, tow it in, check the creatures and plants within, and sent the shuttle back through with the answer.  The second trip was part of the point, after all; since they'd already gone through once, and it was important to verify the things aboard could survive.
"They would probably be very kind to us,":remarked Rodgers quietly.  "Four 'Mech regiments sound like something they could use, and the ships would be even more important."
"They do.  But I do not know if I would want to live regardless," he confessed.  He imagined his wife Nicole's face.  His sons and daughter. Their family home outside of Mytilene.  All the things he wished to return to, like give Sophia away when she met someone she liked, or see grandchildren, hear of Jason's rise through the Atrean Dragoons…
"At least we could talk with them.  Send drones back and forth for mail."
"It wouldn't be the same."
"Yeah, it wouldn't."  After that lament she glanced at the clock.  "Fifty-seven minutes.  Think Grunstern's crew is having trouble with things?"
"Perhaps."
"That's the worst part," she said.  "Right now, we just don't know.  If the worst happens, well, at least we'll know.  All we can do is hope and pray and dread—"
"Emergence signature!  Twenty seconds!"
That brought everyone's attention to the monitors.  Seconds ticked down until the flash, and their DropShuttle re-appeared.
The technician moved her fingers as quickly as she could, accessing the internal cameras without even having to be asked.  Across the command center, every pair of lungs stopped breathing for that moment as they waited for the images to be relayed to the screens.
The main holotank and other monitors changed to show the cramped cargo interior of the DropShuttle, with the caged critters and the pot-held plants.  Every set of eyes watched, looking for signs of life.
"Bwyeaaa!"
The cry came from a furry thing in the middle of the picture, a Timkovichi mammal called a pygmyphant for its pachydermous appearance.  They watched the beast move in its cage, trunk reaching for its mostly-emptied bin of food supply.
Every being on the bridge released their breaths, allowing a multitude of grateful prayers to hum in the air.  "Praise to God, kind and merciful," he heard Rodgers say while crossing herself in the Orthodox style.
"They're alive," Cohen said.  "All of them."
"Another emergence signature!"
Everyone waited to see what happened.  Their patience was rewarded when another DropShuttle came through this time.  "Hail from the shuttle, it's Captain Gunderson," Cohen said.
"Put her on."  Lord Paul watched the image of the living animals replaced by the very-alive JumpShip captain.  "Captain?"
"Wasn't about to put this on another of my crew, Admiral Marik, sir," Captain Gunderson said.  She nodded at him, grinning.  "Felt like any other jump, if you can believe it.  And yet here I am, in some other Inner Sphere going by what you've said."
"You have our most profound thanks," he assured her.  "We'll have space for you aboard if you like."
"Makes sense.  My surgeon figured it's best if I'm checked out before you start sending ships back through, just to be sure, but from what I'm seeing and feeling, you'll all be fine, Admiral."
"Yes, best to make sure," he agreed,  "and I look forward to seeing you in our infirmary.  Arcadia Actual out."
Her image disappeared just as the first cheers echoed through the command center.
They could go home.
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EMCOTS 5