Raymond Price's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Captain Raymond Price watched his sensor screen die at the edge of the nebula. Six ships had entered this cloud before his own. None had come back. Price meant to be the first, to chart a safe road through and reach the far side. But his instruments were already failing. The main screen showed clean space. Price knew better. He tapped the console. Red static crawled across the sensor readout, then the numbers froze. "Report," Price said. His officer at the science station shook her head. "Sensors are blind, sir. The nebula's gas is soaking up our scans. We can't see one meter past the hull." Price gripped the arm of his chair. His ship was a fine machine, a sleek Federation cruiser with twin nacelles and a hull that shrugged off most hazards. But no armor helped a captain who was flying blind. Somewhere in that fog were the rocks that had killed six crews. "Slow us down," Price ordered. "One quarter speed." The ship crept forward. Then the hull rang like a struck bell. Every light flickered. Price was thrown against his console. "We hit something," the science officer called. "A rock field. Minor damage to the lower hull." Price pulled himself up. Waiting was not an option. Each drifting stone was a knife they couldn't see. He needed new eyes. Then he saw it. The rock had scraped the hull, and the friction had made the nebula's gas glow bright around the point of contact. Where the ship touched the cloud, the gas lit up. "Vent plasma from the forward ports," Price said. "Push it ahead of us." The science officer stared. "Sir, that will waste fuel." "The gas glows when we disturb it. If we spray plasma forward, the whole path lights up. We fly by eye." She understood. Her hands moved fast across the panel. A jet of plasma sprayed from the bow. It struck the nebula, and the cloud ahead flared into light. Rocks showed as dark shapes against the glow. Price leaned forward and read the shadows. "Come left. Now down. Steady." The ship threaded between two great stones. Then a third. The path bent and cleared. For the first time, Price could see his enemy. "It works," the science officer breathed. "We can navigate." Price did not smile yet. He watched the fuel gauge fall. Each burst of plasma bought a few seconds of sight, then died. He was trading fuel for vision, and the tank was not deep. "How long can we hold this up?" he asked. She checked the readout. Her face changed. "At this burn rate, forty minutes. Then we're dry, sir. No plasma, no light, and no engines to carry us out." Price looked at the glowing path ahead and the black fog beyond it. He could see now. But the clock had started, and the nebula was wider than forty minutes of fuel.