Silver Search

by Rock Whitehouse

  "Their genome is quite different from ours, but we can identify a few common sequences related to metabolic processes, a case of nature solving the same problem the same way in different places. We don't think that's unusual."

  "I heard they don't have mitochondria?"

  "No, Doctor Knight, they do not. The ATP energy cycle occurs within a different structure in the cell cytoplasm. It does the job of mitochondria but is not encapsulated and does not have its own DNA. It's possible that the presence of mitochondria is a marker for terrestrial organisms. Again, not enough data to say that as a fact, but it seems reasonable."

  "Interesting," Knight said quietly.

  "Yes, it is. It sets up some interesting questions about identifying and analyzing non-terrestrial species."

  Knight continued, seemingly engaged for the first time. "Have we sequenced the genome of any of the other species on Inor?"

  "Yes, two species of aquatic animals — fish I guess — were provided and we have that on board as well. To anticipate your next question, no, the Inori and the fish are not closely related. We see some common sequences but no more than we would with humans and salmon."

  "So are the Inori reptiles or mammals or what?" asked Jim Murphy.

  "They are none of those. They are warm-blooded live-bearers, which would tend to make them mammals, but they have no fur or hair, and they don't give milk. They're obviously not reptiles. If they laid eggs, they'd almost be birds." There was some laughter at that.

  Scranton was getting more engaged, and her tone warmed noticeably. "But they are just as intelligent as we are, and have a well-formed culture. They're just different, and we probably shouldn't try to fit them into terrestrial categories."

  "So, you like the Inori?" Melville asked.

  For the first time since she came aboard, Scranton smiled. A real, warm, genuine expression. Powell almost spilled his coffee.

  "No, Lieutenant, I love the Inori. Their culture is complex and somehow quiet and restful. They are thoughtful in ways we are not. They are generous to us and to each other. They are strong without being aggressive. They love their Ino, and they completely believe he loves them. Given where and how they live, that's hard to argue with." After a moment of light, her smile faded, and she was all business again. Powell was sorry to see it go. With that, she was almost human. Without it, he was less sure.

  Next slide: Wreckage Location

  "Powell, would you please discuss the wreckage?"

  "Yes, Commander. First, I looked back into what technical intelligence we have on the enemy, and it seems we've never tried a serious forensic analysis of their ship wreckage." He turned to look at the Captain. "It's shocking, sir, really. The first few times we hit them, we were at a disadvantage and bugged out. One time where we did hold the space, the commanding officer described the wreckage as 'fragmentary' and just left. At Inor, most of the wreckage had deorbited and burned up before the relief ships arrived. The rest was likely in the ocean, and we never pressed the Inori to get at it."

  "Powell, what about Sigma? There must have been shrapnel or other evidence left from the hits she took." asked the Navigator, SLT Maz Dawes.

  Katch spoke up. "Yes. They found shrapnel similar in content and design to what was found on Inor — small heavy spheres of common metal, likely mined from an asteroid. It was mostly nickel and iron with some lead and uranium. We don't think that means anything in terms of ship construction."

  "What about the explosive?"

  Katch shrugged. "That is less clear. Trace element analysis indicates it's something like the Torpex used in torpedoes in the Second World War. There may be other materials as well. Whatever it is, it burns pretty fast and pretty completely."

  Powell waited a moment to see that the sidebar was over before continuing.

  "So, we don't have any ship mass or construction information to go on. From basic physics, we can expect the wreckage to be in an expanding sphere, more or less, moving in the same direction the vessel was headed when it was destroyed. We know the course and speed from the Sigma IR data."

  Another pause.

  "Those were some big explosions. But lacking knowledge of the construction of the vessel we have unlimited uncertainty about how much inertia was imparted to the departing debris."

  Alona Melville rolled her eyes. "Cute."

  "Thanks. I worked on that phrase most of last evening. A major part of the uncertainty are those explosions. We assume they were ordinance, but we don't know where they were stored in the vessel, or how the vessel came apart as a result of the blasts. It's quite possible that the ordinance was all external and the ship is somewhat intact, likely riddled with shrapnel holes, but essentially whole. On the other hand, if the explosions reflect stores from deep within the ship, the whole thing might be in very small pieces, and the biologic samples we're interested in could have been consumed in the explosion."

  The captain interrupted, "I get that you can't know everything, David. What is FleetIntel's estimate of what's out there?"

  "Assuming they haven't invented anything new, FleetIntel made an estimate using a titanium and steel hull similar to ours. The IR data did give a rough estimate of the energy expended. In general, larger pieces should be closer to the center and smaller pieces further out. FleetIntel estimates by now the wreckage is in a sphere about thirty million kilometers in diameter. For reference, at its closest approach, Mars is fifty-six million klicks from Earth. So, a little more than half that distance."

  Powell again looked around to make sure they understood the scope of what he was saying.

  "Even if the entire ship is on the edge of that sphere, which of course it isn't, we're looking at over a million square kilometers per kilogram of wreckage. Assuming, of course, that Intel's assessment of a two million metric ton ship is correct."

  "Two million metric tons?" Melville asked, incredulous. "A damn aircraft carrier is only a hundred thousand!"

  "True, Lieutenant, but enemy ships are two and half times longer than a thousand-foot carrier, and around three times wider as well."

  "Still, Powell, that's a helluva lot of mass to be hauling around."

  Powell looked back at Commander Scranton, and she rose to continue the briefing.

  "So, you have to be wondering what the plan here is," she paused. "Truth is, the plan will unfold dependent on what we find. We will examine the evidence macroscopically, microscopically, and chemically, including DNA. What I do after that depends entirely on what I learn as we go."

  Dan Smith looked skeptical. "This is a long way to go, Commander, to make it up on the spot."

  "Yes, Captain, it is. But this is science. We will follow the evidence as it unfolds. As we learn new facts, we will adjust our actions to obtain more new facts."

  Smith still looked unconvinced, so Scranton pressed on. "Captain I could give you a hundred-page three-dimensional flow chart of what I was going to do, but it would be dead as soon as we learned something we didn't expect. The Chief of Intel believes this is worthwhile. I hope you will, too."

  Gerry Knight spoke up, "Captain, I think she's on the right track, and she's giving it to you straight. This is how I would do it. We just have to play each stroke where it lies."

  Smith shrugged. "Fine. I will defer to the scientists on this one. What do we know about the enemy, Dr. Scranton?"

  "Essentially nothing, sir. No one has ever seen or heard the enemy. Since they struck at Inor with the apparent intent to invade, we can guess that they are more or less like the Inori, and us, in size, type of sensory organs, relative intelligence. But even that is guesswork."

  Melville asked, "Shouldn't we assume they are more intelligent than us? They appear more advanced in space travel and weapons, at least."

  "More advanced, possibly, but I am not convinced of that. More intelligent, not necessarily. They as a species may have evolved earlier than we did and therefore simply have a head start on us in technological development. They also could have followed a mo
re efficient path through technological progress. As you all know, our own path to technology was far less than linear. We just don't know."

  "Or they could be huge-headed brain-eating telepathic grey-skinned monsters with an IQ of a thousand," Lieutenant Mike Clark offered. Scranton tilted her head and smiled slightly.

  "Unlikely, seems to me. But, yes, possible."

  "Lieutenant Clark, you are to cut back on the 1950's sci-fi, OK?" the captain offered. He paused for a moment. Time to get back to business.

  "So how hard do you think it will be to find this wreckage?" Scranton asked Melinda Hughes, the Surveillance Officer.

  "Well, I think it makes sense that most of the remains will be near the edge of the sphere. I am a little more hopeful than Lieutenant Powell, but his arithmetic is correct: it's a sphere on whose surface we can expect to find one kilo of wreckage every million square kilometers."

  "And we're looking for organic samples that won't reflect much radar and probably won't show up on IR," Melville added.

  Katch spoke up. "Captain, if I may, we should consider looking for large objects first. If their ship is compartmented in any way similar to ours, it's possible the larger pieces may contain specimens within partial, or even whole, compartments. These will be easier to locate. We should also look for star occultation as an additional search method. It has the advantage of being completely passive."

  "And completely luck-dependent!" commented Melville.

  Katch nodded and shrugged in response.

  "OK. To summarize, we're looking for a sphere thirty million kilometers in diameter moving at thirty thousand kilometers an hour away from us, and somewhere around the edge of that sphere we expect to find a kilo of shit every million square klicks?"

  Powell smiled. "Yes sir, but don't forget that we think the sphere is expanding in diameter twelve thousand kilometers every hour."

  Dan Smith scowled. "Powell, you're a pain in the ass."

  David smiled again. "Indeed, sir, but I am your pain in the ass."

  "Roger that. I like the occultation idea, Katch. The XO is correct that it will take some luck, but if there are large pieces out there, we might see them earlier that way. Go ahead and work with Lieutenant Hughes to see if she can help you with integrating the optical systems and setting up a watch." Hughes, sitting at the end across from Scranton, nodded acknowledgment.

  "Very well, we're adjourned."

  David left the wardroom, pausing for Melinda Hughes to exit. She smiled at him as she exited, saying, "My office, say, Saturday, 0930?"

  "Done."

  Hughes headed forward to her Surveillance Section's spaces while Powell followed Katch back to the Intel work area.

  That night David let his feelings out about this project to Carol.

  Dear Carol —

  OK, the GL 876 project is officially weird. This hard-ass Doctor Scranton wants us to go find enemy body parts for her to dissect.

  Nuts, right?

  Or, maybe not. After all, she brought a ton of equipment aboard. I'm not at all sure we'll find anything, but we're going anyway.

  Melinda Hughes — Surveillance Officer — is really really smart. Love her approach to things. Good sense of humor, too. Getting to know the rest — Mike Clark, XO Alona Melville — better now. I'm feeling more comfortable as the days go on. Dan keeps pushing me to say what I think, so I'll keep doing it until he tells me to stop.

  Thought of you often today, more even than usual.

  Stay safe.

  —D

  Columbia

  Enroute GL 876

  Saturday, September 17, 2078, 0930 UTC

  Senior Lieutenant Melinda Hughes entered the Surveillance Section work area and spotted Technical Chief Larry Allen talking to a junior tech. Whatever the tech had done, Chief Allen clearly did not approve. She grabbed Allen by the arm and dragged him, smiling, into her office.

  "Got a job for you, Chief."

  He accepted her assault with good humor and sat across from her comfortably. Hughes, despite what her pretty face and small size might imply to some, was a tough boss. Still, Allen liked her competence and integrity. Her word was good, and that was Chief Allen's one litmus test for a good officer. She had a decent sense of humor, too, and he believed that she really cared about her staff, of which he was the most senior. He waited while she worked on her tablet for a moment.

  "Consider yourself read in on a compartmentalized project." She finally said without looking up.

  "You mean Project Meat Market?"

  She looked up. "That's the best the crew can do? Meat Market?"

  "Well, Lieutenant, you know how it is, some I can't really repeat in polite company."

  "Like?"

  "Like, I can't really repeat them, ma'am."

  She laughed slightly, then went back to her tablet.

  "Ever done a star occultation search?"

  Katch knocked gently at the open door, and he and David came in. Chief Allen began to stand up.

  "Relax, Chief," Katch said, "keep your seat." Allen nodded his acknowledgment and then looked back at Hughes as if expecting an explanation. Katch leaned against the wall by the door.

  "I was just asking the Chief about occultation searches," she said, still reading the tablet.

  "You read him in?" Katch asked.

  "Apparently the word on Project Meat Market is already out."

  Katch shook his head and laughed quietly. He looked at Allen. "Meat Market? That's the best you could do?"

  "Yes, sir. I already covered that with Lieutenant Hughes."

  "Acknowledged," Katch deadpanned. "So, tell me about the occultation search."

  "We have software for it, but damned if I know when we last did one." Allen leaned back in his chair, hand rubbing his chin absentmindedly as he thought for a moment. "We should be able to cover it if you're willing to accept some time delay."

  Katch stood up straighter. "Time delay?"

  "As you all know, the primary function of the external sensors is to look for enemy activity. The second function is to locate the ship in space. If you're willing to wait for the results, the incoming scan data can take its normal immediate route through the primary surveillance and nav functions, then through the occultation logic as an additional data consumer at the end of the line. That way we can get complete coverage 360 by 360."

  Katch was intrigued. "How much delay? Seconds? Minutes?"

  "Some number of seconds, sir. I don't think it would be as long as a minute. We're only interested in visual data, so that helps, but I would not want to get your hopes up." The chief was now looking at the wall while he thought about the problem. "I am pretty sure we're looking at less than a minute. After we get it up and running, we'll have hard data to refine that estimate."

  Katch looked at David, who nodded his agreement. Hughes turned back to Allen.

  "OK, get on it."

  "When do you want to start?"

  "I'll need it when we drop out of FTL at GL 876. So, you have plenty of time."

  "Yes ma'am, we'll have it up as soon as we can."

  Allen rose and left the office, his mind already three steps down the path to setting up the search. He called over a junior tech and, without telling him exactly why, got him started on the procedure for adding a data consumer to the visual scan stream. Allen then pulled up the occultation processing logic on his console, reminding himself of how it worked. It was fairly simple in concept, but comparing every star on every scan to that same star on subsequent scans took a lot of processor time.

  Katch took Allen's seat, and they moved on to their next topic.

  "Has he approved radar yet?" Hughes asked.

  "Captain's discretion, I guess," David commented.

  "You know he's worried about being detected —"

  "So am I," Hughes interrupted, cutting Katch off.

  "Yeah, me too. So how do we search this big an area with radar without calling attention to ourselves?"

  "The Intel alert la
st March indicated that the enemy likely understands radar. We'll have to be very careful about it."

  "Understood. But I have a question for you."

  "OK…"

  "You heard the briefing, one kilo of junk for every million square clicks of wreckage sphere."

  "Right."

  "Can we even detect that?"

  Hughes leaned back in her chair, then picked up her tablet, looking for a reference. She looked up at David. "No guidance from FleetIntel on this?"

  David shook his head. Setting down the tablet, Hughes pulled out a notebook and a pencil.

  "The debris sphere is thirty million klicks in diameter?"

  Katch nodded. Hughes slapped the pencil down. She could do this calculation in her head, and she didn't like the results at all.

  "Christ, that's a hundred light-seconds. I don't believe we can search that with radar." She thought for a moment. "We could use it to look ahead a short distance, maybe to avoid something, but as a general search tool, forget it."

  David's shoulders slumped, deflated. "So, this is a fool's errand after all."

  Hughes looked up at him with some sympathy. "We'll see. Maybe not."

  After Katch and David left, Melinda sat back down and thought about the radar problem for a few moments. She finally concluded that the laws of physics really were in charge, and there was not much she could do about it. She had only so much antenna, only so much power, and therefore only so much ability to see. Two plus two always equals four. Period. It really was a dead end. Too bad.

  October 2078

  Columbia

  GL 876

  Sunday, October 2, 2078, 1315 UTC