Starship Freedom

by Daniel Arenson

  Let her engines bathe the dark with light

  Let her cannons sing the song of freedom

  The fleet will gather; she will lead them

  Our flagship sails into the flame

  As poets weep and sing her name

  For liberty's light! For glory's hymn!

  Praise the Freedom, she will win!

  Flying the shuttle, Darjeeling removed his cap.

  "Praise the Freedom, she will win!" the mustached sergeant repeated, eyes shining with tears.

  The "Song of Freedom." It was a poem her grandfather had written long ago. A poem they taught in schools today. A poem Emily had etched across her heart and soul.

  * * * * *

  They flew closer. And finally Emily appreciated the sheer size of the Freedom. Her eyes widened.

  By God! The Freedom dwarfed Buckingham Palace, and that was no small palace. Place the Freedom down in London, and she'd cover the entire Mall—from Buckingham to Trafalgar Square. From there, the Freedom's legendary railgun would extend even farther, crushing half of Covent Garden.

  In other words, she was big. Damn big.

  "She's a full fifteen hundred meters," Darjeeling boasted, noticing how wide her eyes had grown. "When she was christened forty years ago, she was the largest starship ever built. The first dreadnought. And if you ask me, still the greatest."

  "Are there larger starships today?" Emily asked.

  "Well …" Darjeeling squirmed uncomfortably in the shuttle's pilot seat. "There are some that are larger, yes. The Red Dawn flagship Lenin is larger. But no ship is grander than our beloved Freedom. And none are so legendary."

  "I meant no offense," Emily said. "She's truly a grand old lady."

  "That she is, ma'am. That she is. We're almost there. Shall I fly the shuttle around the ship, give you a tour of the exterior before we enter?"

  "That would be grand. Thank you, Mr. Darjeeling."

  As the shuttle flew closer, more details emerged. From afar, Emily had thought the Freedom craggy like an asteroid. But those were no random crags on her surface. A host of machinery and equipment covered the Freedom. She spotted mighty cannons, telescopes, hangar bays, armored plates, machine-gun nests, antennae, radio plates, magnetic field generators—it was all too much to take in at once, a veritable forest of technology. The Freedom wasn't graceful and smooth like modern starships. She was not built for beauty; she was built for war.

  "Let us begin our tour from the stern," Darjeeling said, yawing the shuttle.

  They flew toward the back of the starship. The stern rose before them, a sheer cliff of metal. Three exhaust pipes gaped open like caves.

  Emily giggled. "Mickey Mouse."

  Darjeeling tilted his head. "Pardon, ma'am?"

  "The three exhaust ports! It's the way they're arranged. One big one at the bottom. Two slightly smaller ones above. Like mouse ears. The stern of the Freedom looks like Mickey Mouse." She giggled again, then blushed and lowered her head. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to mock your ship."

  "No need to apologize, ma'am. You have a delightful imagination."

  Another shuttle glided by the stern, perhaps ferrying tourists. Emily and Darjeeling still flew a distance away, but that other shuttle was close to the Freedom, giving her some perspective. Emily gasped. The shuttle seemed tiny by the dreadnought's stern! Like a fly buzzing by an albatross.

  "How large are those exhaust ports?" she said, eyes wide.

  Darjeeling smiled. "The size of football fields. Or as the Americans call it—soccer."

  Her jaw dropped. "Each one of those ports—the size of a football field? My goodness."

  Darjeeling nodded. "You could fit the London Eye into those exhaust ports. In fact, if you placed just the stern of the Freedom inside London, it would dwarf every skyscraper in the city. I don't mean the entire starship. Just the stern."

  Emily leaned back as if too awed to even sit upright. "Wow. Why is it so big? The ship must have massively powerful engines!"

  Darjeeling nodded. "Indeed she does, ma'am. Indeed she does. In fact, a full third of the starship Freedom is dedicated to the engines. Take the engines out of Freedom, and put them down in London, and they would stretch for several city blocks, and they would rise higher than Big Ben."

  Their shuttle flew past the stern, then began flying alongside the starboard bow. Emily gazed at the hull passing by, yard after yard of armor and machinery. She tried to imagine that gargantuan engine churning inside. An engine the size of an entire neighborhood! Incredible.

  "Does she fly on regular rocket fuel?" she asked, hoping it was an intelligent question. She wanted to appear educated when speaking to the military, to prove herself more than a pampered princess.

  "The starship Freedom uses a Talaria drive, an advanced propulsion system," Darjeeling said. "Talaria technology utilizes particle physics to propel starships much faster than conventional engines could." His cheeks flushed. "To be honest, ma'am, I ain't no engineer, and I don't fully understand the technology. But I've flown aboard the Freedom many times. With the Talaria engines fully primed, the Freedom can reach one percent the speed of light."

  Emily tilted her head. "Just one percent the speed of light? Oh dear. That doesn't sound very fast, does it?"

  "Certainly not!" Niles interjected. "May we go home now?"

  "Hush, Niles," Emily said.

  Darjeeling ignored the drone, God bless him. "To answer your question, ma'am. One percent the speed of light does not sound very fast, as you say. Yet I assure you, it is a very fine speed indeed. Before Talaria drives, when starships only had conventional engines, it would take a year to travel from Earth to Mars. But with a Talaria drive, the journey only takes a day. That's how fast even one percent the speed of light is."

  "Fascinating, Mr. Darjeeling," Emily said. "It's truly counterintuitive. I realize now how blisteringly fast that one percent is. It reminds me of how it used to take sailing ships months to circle the globe, but the steam engine cut that time back to mere days." She frowned, thought for a moment. "Can the Freedom reach the stars with a Talaria drive?"

  "Lamentably not," said Darjeeling. "You see, even the nearest star to us, Alpha Centauri, is over four light-years away. Even with Talaria drives—flying blisteringly fast, as you so aptly put it—the journey would take centuries."

  "Centuries! Oh my." Emily deflated. "Pity. That too is counterintuitive—just how much farther the stars are compared to our neighboring planets."

  "Indeed, ma'am. Our mortal brains struggle with distances and speeds on this scale. As far as our solar system's planets are from one another, they're all very close compared to the stars."

  "So I suppose somebody would have to invent faster-than-light engines to reach the stars," Emily said. "Like in the science fiction films from America."

  Darjeeling chuckled. "Yes, well, according to dear old Einstein, traveling faster than light is impossible. I'm afraid it's only possible in films. With the Freedom, we have conquered the solar system. But space is so unimaginably vast, and the stars are so incredibly far away, that interstellar space is simply impossible to cross. Not unless you have centuries to spare."

  "Maybe that's a good thing," Emily said. "I'd have loved to fly to other stars, see worlds beyond our solar system, and explore the galaxy. Like in my favorite films. But other films portray alien invasions." She shuddered. "If there are aliens out there, I'm glad space is so vast. If one cannot travel faster than light, perhaps Earth is safe."

  Darjeeling nodded, smiling politely. "Quite right."

  She laughed. "Don't tell me, Mr. Darjeeling. You don't believe in aliens. I know, I know! Most people don't. But I'm a silly girl with an overactive imagination. And a large library of science fiction films."

  "I assure you, you're perfectly safe from aliens here. And if any beasties from deep space should appear, the Freedom will beat them back. Ah, but I've been chattering away! We're still flying along the starboard hull, and there are sights to see. Let us continue o
ur tour."

  * * * * *

  The shuttle glided along the Freedom's starboard hull. Past the stern, they flew alongside the midsection of the ship. Armored sheets of metal soared like cliffs. Rails along the armor could generate magnetic fields, adding an extra layer of protection against enemy ordnance.

  Darjeeling spoke as they flew. "The midsection, located between the stern and prow, is sometimes called the Belly of the Beast. It contains three hotels, several spas, world-class casinos, a wax museum, a wave pool, three dance clubs, and even a minigolf course."

  Emily cringed. "It's all rather … American, isn't it?"

  Darjeeling laughed. "The Freedom has many Americans in her service. But this is truly an Alliance-wide cooperation. Soldiers from sixteen countries serve aboard the Freedom, and tourists visit her from around the free world."

  "But not from Red Dawn," Emily said.

  Darjeeling shifted uncomfortably. "Not often. We do get some tourists from Red Dawn countries, now that there's peace. But the commander, he …" He cleared his throat. "Well, he … how should I put this …?"

  Hates Red Dawn, Emily thought. Of course King hates them. Katyusha herself slit his throat.

  She thought it best to change the subject.

  "There are no portholes," she said. "I find that so odd. I've been on cruise starships, and they're lined with portholes so the tourists can see the galaxy."

  Darjeeling seemed relieved. He continued prattling on. "Quite an astute observation. You see, while the modern Freedom contains many amenities for tourists, she still maintains the facade of a military starship. Those are the original shields on her hull from World War III. Now, as we fly by here, you'll see an actual scar on the hull from the Battle of Mars. We've decided to keep it there. It serves as a reminder of the Freedom's great flight."

  Emily saw the scar. It was the size of a city block, denting the mighty hull. She imagined the Freedom during that great battle, leading the Alliance fleet to victory. She wondered if her grandfather had been very scared. She wondered if, when the enemy scarred the hull, her grandfather had fallen to the deck, if the fire had washed over him, if he had screamed and prayed.

  A shadow fell over the shuttle. Emily leaned toward the viewport and looked upward. A massive cannon thrust out from Freedom's dorsal hull, casting a long shadow. A few other shuttles were flying nearer the cannon. They could have easily flown into the muzzle.

  "One of the Angels of Liberty," Darjeeling said. "Great torpedo launchers. Each cannon is as large as Big Ben. Fourteen of them top the Freedom. Each one can destroy an enemy frigate with a single blast."

  "I never imagined cannons this large," Emily said. "My dear!"

  Darjeeling smiled. "Ah, but the Angels of Liberty are small compared to the Freedom's primary weapon. Let's take a look."

  He nudged the throttle, and the shuttle flew faster. They glided by the midsection, and now they flew alongside the prow. The sergeant explained that the prow contained science labs, command stations, and observation facilities. He described it as the brain of the ship. But Emily found it difficult to concentrate. She kept thinking of her grandfather aboard this ship. Back when it had been a real warship, when it had fought in a terrible war that had claimed half a billion souls. A war worse than any war in history. Maybe worse than all previous wars combined.

  I pray that the Freedom never fights another war. That none of us do. I'm so lucky to be born in an era of peace.

  "Mr. Darjeeling," she said. "Did … did you fight in the Great War?"

  The sergeant major lost his smile. He looked at her. He nodded solemnly. "Indeed I did, ma'am. Indeed I did. I was just a young corporal then. Just a scared boy from Whitechapel, the son of a factory worker. He commanded me in battle. James King. He's the finest officer I've known. And indeed the finest man." He cleared his throat. "Aside from our true king, of course. Meaning King Robert, your grandfather. Forgive me, ma'am."

  She laughed. "There's nothing to forgive. You too are quite a fine man, Mr. Darjeeling. I've not known you for long, but I can tell."

  He beamed. "You honor me, my princess. Your kind words are a gift I'll never forget."

  Emily was about to say more when the shuttle flew beyond the prow. She gasped.

  There it was.

  There—the famous twin rails!

  "The Fist of Freedom," she whispered. "I've read about it."

  For a moment she and Darjeeling stared in silent awe.

  The Fist of Freedom. The starship's fabled weapon.

  "It's a railgun," Emily said. "It uses electromagnetic energy to propel projectiles at hypersonic speed. Those two rods thrusting outward? The projectile travels between them like a train between two tracks. Am I right?"

  "Quite right, ma'am. The Fist of Freedom has only been fired a handful of times and not once since the war. The Fist takes a full day to charge, but when it does fire, it can obliterate any enemy, even the largest dreadnought. Did you know each of those rails is five hundred meters long? They're taller than the old Twin Towers in New York City, the ones from the old still photographs. These prongs are the two fingers in the Fist of Freedom." He held up two fingers. "Between them, they can launch projectiles powerful enough to destroy worlds."

  Emily grinned. "Did you know, Mr. Darjeeling, that during the Hundred Year War, English soldiers would hold up two fingers to taunt our French enemies? A sort of reverse V-sign. The gesture symbolized the two fingers an archer used when drawing a longbow, the weapon which was devastating the French lines. I think that today we can give the gesture a new meaning. Two fingers for the fabled Fist of Freedom!"

  "A proper lady should not hold up two fingers!" Niles interjected.

  "Oh shush, drone," she snapped. "My grandfather served aboard this starship when it was actually firing that railgun. Surely I can hold up two fingers. And if you don't be quiet, Niles, I'm going to stick these two fingers up your sockets."

  Niles gasped. "Well, I never!" The drone flew to the back of the shuttle, huffing and muttering to himself.

  * * * * *

  "We're about to enter the starship Freedom, ma'am," Darjeeling said. "Once aboard, you'll be treated to a grand tour of the interior, culminating with a fabulous Christmas dinner. Commander King will be hosting. But first I would like to show you one more thing."

  He shoved down the throttle. The shuttle jolted forward, flying at incredible speed.

  "Slow down, you ruffian!" Niles cried from the back.

  But Emily only laughed. This was fun. The only thing missing was the wind in her hair.

  The shuttle flew under the Freedom's belly, then rose again by the port hull. Darjeeling took them a little farther out into space, then spun back toward the Freedom. They now faced the side of the starship. From here, Emily got a view of the entire length of the beast, stem to stern.

  Darjeeling checked his watch.

  "Just about … now."

  Just then, the Angels of Liberty sang.

  The great cannons of Freedom fired!

  But they did not fire torpedoes like in the war. Fireworks flew from their muzzles instead, streaking forward and then exploding in space. A dazzling show of lights illuminated the starship and shuttle. It was so bright they could probably see it from Earth.

  "They're shooting fireworks!" Emily breathed. "How lovely."

  "Aye, ma'am," Darjeeling said softly, the fireworks painting his face. "May they shoot fireworks every Christmas, and may these guns never fire torpedoes in battle again."

  It was a nice sentiment. Emily wondered if the famous James "Bulldog" King, commander of the Freedom, felt the same way. They said the old officer was a real war dog. That he resented turning the Freedom into a museum. That he was miserable commanding a tourist attraction. That war was in his bones. The tabloids painted him as a grumpy, quarrelsome character, a bulldog chained to his doghouse, barking and snapping his teeth at the world.

  Well, and the same tabloids portrayed Emily as a pampered brat who cared mor
e about her nail polish than the concerns of her planet. Surprising nobody, tabloids lied. She quite looked forward to meeting this Commander King.

  After a few dazzling fireworks, the cannons darkened. For a moment nothing happened.

  Then all the Angels sang together. A great finale rack of fireworks flew into space.

  This was no normal fireworks display, no random explosions of color and light. This was something special. These fireworks were blue, red, and white, forming a crackling, shining Union Jack the size of Hyde Park.

  Emily gazed in wonder. She wanted to say something sophisticated. She could only manage, "Wow."

  "They prepared these fireworks for you, ma'am."

  She covered her mouth. "I'm just a girl. I'm nothing special."

  "You are a princess. You are my princess. We're proud to host you aboard the Freedom this special Christmas. Look, ma'am. Look back toward the Freedom. There they come! The mighty Eagles."

  Airlocks opened near the Freedom's underbelly. Starfighters emerged.

  Emily leaned forward, gasping with delight.

  "Eagle starfighters! Like my grandfather flew in the war."

  A dozen flew out, painted red and blue and lined with lights. They were long, slender vessels, as graceful as true eagles. Their wings were folded inward now, but Emily knew that they could extend those wings for atmospheric flight. Their exhaust ports shone, leaving luminous trails through space.

  The Eagles flew closer to the shuttle, then branched out, drawing arcs of light ahead of Emily. She grinned, the light dazzling her.

  The starfighters flew closer again, then whipped around in spirals, painting helices of light. They performed for her like male birds seeking to impress a female. They charged toward one another, then yawed, barely avoiding crashes as Emily gasped and clutched the armrests. Some flew upside down, one over the other, cockpits almost touching. They performed barrel rolls, flips, swoops, and dives. One even drew her name in space with its glowing trail.

  As Emily watched the show, she clapped. Other shuttles hovered nearby, full of delighted tourists. Cameras flashed. More cameras flashed from the Freedom herself; there was an observation lounge near the top, and a crowd must be watching from there.