Grantville Gazette Volume 93

by Bjorn Hasseler

  Around a bite of his second Snickers, Liam got out, "Happy to hear it."

  Carlotta called from the bridge. "If we can spare an oh-two tank or three the next time one of us drops by, they might divert more reactor output for a bit to other needs."

  "Good idea. I'll offer." Mia leaned across the table. "Are you guys recovered?"

  "Sure thing, boss," Liam exaggerated.

  Bud just grunted.

  Mia tapped Liam's hand. "Give us a moment?"

  With nowhere to go, Liam studied the inside of the pantry. Candy bars had taken off the edge, but he remained hungry. As he pondered his options, one less palatable than the next, Mia lit into Bud.

  "I sent you to help schlep the reactor, not to play industrial spy."

  Bud snapped, "And to learn about their tech."

  "Yes, we should all keep our eyes open. Guidance, you'll recall, I also gave. That's not the same as prying. We're here in the outer darkness because, goddamn it, these people need our help, and it's the right thing to do, and as ambassadors for humanity. Also, I'll remind you, it's what we're being well-compensated to do. Sleazy hints from anyone Dirtside notwithstanding, there's no quid pro quo for our assistance. Got that, Bud?"

  "So, I asked a question. Big deal."

  Mia's voice, if no louder, got more intense. "A pointed question about their tech. After speculating on comms about their artificial gravity. You may have forgotten, but I monitored helmet cams the entire time. Your head swiveled so much, so often, I marvel it didn't come unscrewed. I can show you, if you have any doubts. It's all recorded."

  "So, I'm curious. If that's a crime, you can throw me in the brig. Oh, wait. This tin can doesn't have a brig."

  Head still deep in the pantry, Liam froze.

  Mia broke a long, could-cut-the-tension-with-a-knife, stillness. "I don't know what your problem has been of late. Bad news, or a lack of news, from back home?" (Could be. Mia, Carlotta, and Liam had long shared everything. On matters personal, Bud was a clam. And not only did they recede ever farther from home, losing effective bandwidth all the while; such capacity as remained choked often on unsolicited advice.) "Cabin fever? Ennui? Jock itch? It's your business whether or not to share. What isn't up to you is whether to obey orders.

  "Do I have a brig? No. On the other hand, I get serious input into crew bonuses. I hadn't brought it up till now because, till now, no one's given me cause. Keep up with the attitude, and the insubordination, and I guarantee you won't enjoy the result. Capeesh?"

  As silence stretched anew, Liam wondered how much cash mattered to the man. To explore—how was it Bud described Nugget?—a pristine, kilometers-wide chunk of exposed metallic core from a shattered protoplanet. A new window into Earth's formation. And even, in his less guarded moments, his ticket to the Nobel lottery. That drove the man—or so, Liam had always thought. Diverted from Nugget, their lead-and-only geologist had no clear purpose, was fifth wheel of the four-person rescue team. But while the starship lacked rocks, it might yet let him score some scientific coup.

  Cowed or just bored, Bud finally offered, "Got it."

  "Good." Between syllables, Mia's tone changed utterly. "Okay, everyone, listen up. Breaking news arrived from Dirtside while the boys were outside. Bud, this might appeal especially to you."

  Settled on a fruit cup (there being no reason to dehydrate or freeze-dry or otherwise desecrate fruit), Liam returned to the table. "News, you say."

  "Must be major," Carlotta said. "It was in company top-level encryption."

  "Come home. All is forgiven?" Liam guessed. "Improved dental?"

  Mia grinned. "Bigger. And not IPMCo news, either. Company crypto was just the most secure option for getting the information to us.

  "Remember how, before Greater Good's mishap near Saturn, neutrino astronomers tracking its approach had inferred a fusion reactor aboard? Well, other astronomers have weighed in. These folks, poking around in old datasets for unrelated reasons, spotted a gamma-ray anomaly from more than a year ago. The data doesn't let them triangulate an exact location, or even an exact distance, but a nontrivial fraction of a light-year from Earth."

  Bud perked up. "That's deep into the Oort Cloud. Big snowballs, mainly, and primordial rocks unchanged since the dawn of the Solar System. Nothing there should produce appreciable gammas. Those come from truly violent events. Supernovas. Binary neutron stars colliding."

  Mia nodded. "I gather that's why some machine-learning algorithm, preprocessing raw data from orbiting observatories, dismissed it as a glitch. Only these latest astronomers think it's an actual event, the implications too sensitive to just release to the Internet. They took their suspicions straight to NASA."

  "I'll bite," Liam said.

  Mia said, "It seems not only stellar events produce copious gammas. A big matter/antimatter explosion will, too, and this distant ‘anomaly' showed all the appropriate characteristics. By implication, we've learned something important about the starship's first accident and seriously advanced tech.

  "Antimatter, continues the message, is exceedingly rare in nature, appallingly expensive to produce, and deucedly difficult to isolate if you do obtain a trace of it. With known tech, to retain even miniscule amounts for even seconds involves super-duper, superconducting magnets, extreme cryocooling, and exquisitely fine-tuned and responsive real-time controls.

  "But if someone overcame all that? Antimatter/matter annihilation is, by far, the highest-density energy source a ship can have. That is what the Powers That Be hope we might learn something about."

  ****

  Larrok and Bolbon waited by Greater Good's forward-most emergency air lock, through which humans should soon return. This lock was remote from the cold-sleep bay in which the borrowed reactor, within its cocoon of thermionic converters, provided a modicum of power. With the entrance's air-curtain field disabled, blank wall displays were the only technology in sight.

  She had restored air and lighting to this entire sector of the ship. Temperatures within had crept, if not to comfortable, at least above dangerously cold. Food for several days had been synthesized. It had all been essential, but after toiling nonstop . . . since . . . she had no idea when, other than well before the humans' arrival . . . she was exhausted. With so much remaining to be done. As so much always remained.

  A susurrus of conversation drifted from Commons, where at her insistence everyone else—however unhappily—had gathered. Ship would stream the coming encounter to displays and speakers there.

  Would her charges stay away? She had her doubts. Curiosity was a powerful force.

  "The humans intrigue me," she volunteered. "That is not to say I understand them."

  "I'm distressed and impressed in equal measures." Bolbon patted a uniform pocket. "This little computer more than sufficed, and without appreciable delay, to access their ‘private' conversations. In little longer, it opened their ‘secure' communications with Earth. Such primitive electronics and fission? It's appalling that we must rely on such archaic technology. Still, I respect that they make it work."

  Nor was paradoxical competence limited to Andy's crew. As the latest ‘secure' message revealed, Earth's scientists had deduced Greater Good once had antimatter! What more would be revealed each time she allowed humans aboard?

  Not that, if they were to survive, she dare keep the humans off the ship.

  "The human captain is hailing," Ship reported through a nearby intercom speaker.

  "Connect us." Ship would know to do translations. "Tell her, ‘Hello.' "

  "Captain," Mia began, "I have a recommendation."

  There followed mention of a companion animal (Larrok understood domesticated animals as sources of protein, but the "pet" concept eluded her) called a guinea pig, or a hamster, or perhaps a canary. It was all very confusing. Also, the possibility of cross-species pathogens. What emerged was that Mia wished to send over a small, caged, terrestrial animal. If exposure aboard her ship did it no harm, likely unprotected exposure would not
endanger humans.

  "Only if you agree," Mia concluded, "but I believe the risk is worthwhile. It will be a major project to design, build, and deploy a docking cradle. The more of that we do aboard your much roomier vessel, unencumbered by protective gear, the sooner we'll finish. We'd save more time by some of us camping out"—("Living under primitive or improvised conditions," Ship interjected)—"to minimize travel to and from Andy,"

  "Ship, mute." Larrok turned to Bolbon. No one else aboard was remotely scientific. "What do you think?"

  "Their biochemistry and ours can't have much in common, so I don't see that cross-infection is likely. It's conceivable a trace metabolite we or they exhale would be toxic or allergenic to the other. But until the original accident, we had seven species aboard. I expect the nanodocs that allowed us to mingle will protect us from an eighth."

  As she had reasoned. "Ship, unmute. "Captain, my species and the Vol'taki alike have robust immune systems. It's worth trying your experiment."

  "Excellent," Mia said. "Two of us, plus Hammy, will be right over."

  ****

  Eventually, two humans did make the crossing and emerge from the airlock. Rather than the cumbersome but sturdy metallic spacesuits of the first encounter, both wore formfitting, flexible gear.

  "Welcome back." Larrok gestured at overhead panels aglow in red and orange wavelengths. "I was able"—with a simple parameter tweak—"to adjust lighting in this corridor and a nearby cabin. I hope it's helpful." More, she hoped that, should they venture off this deck, this latest misdirection would excuse the absence elsewhere of human-visible illumination.

  One visitor, alas, was Bud. He carried, in addition to a satchel of unknown content, a caged creature in a transparent inflated bag. A water bottle and a food-pellet container grasped the bars, with extensions into the cage. This furry little quadruped, squeaking and caroming frantically at the sight of her, was presumably the expendable Hammy.

  The other human, much smaller, was new to her. It (she?) was of the shape Larrok understood to be typical of females. "Captain?"

  "Still on Andy, piloting," a familiar voice answered through Larrok's earbuds. "But I'm watching and listening."

  The newcomer was Carlotta, the engineer assigned to design a docking cradle. For this endeavor, that made her Larrok's counterpart. Liam ("I work faster with my hands free"), aboard Andy with Mia, would address Carlotta's more serious computing needs. That made him Bolbon's counterpart. Bud, once more, seemed merely a safety partner for the ship-to-ship transfer. Or a snoop.

  They convened to the cabin Teljod had stripped bare. Hammy warily observed from the corner where its cage, removed from the bag, sat magneted to the deck. Larrok's proboscis curled at the odd stench.

  "Take good care of my pal," Bud said. "Do not let his water bottle go dry."

  "Anners-may," Mia said.

  "Ship," Larrok said, "Don't relay this. Mia's last words did not make sense."

  Ship said, "I can't translate them. Perhaps it's a code."

  Wanduk, watching and listening from Commons, contributed, "Literal meaning aside, I'm certain her word, or words, carried emotional content. Based on human entertainments I've viewed, Mia is frustrated, impatient, or, my best guess, disapproving."

  Disapproving of Bud? Larrok could identify with that.

  "Cute." Bolbon sidled up to the cage. Hammy backed away to cower in a corner. "You need not worry, Bud. I'll be sure its water is replenished."

  Carlotta, meanwhile, had unfolded a computer from her satchel. A few taps evoked a three-dimensional, false-color image of Greater Good. To stern, red and orange splotches predominated. Blemishes became fewer, smaller, and shifted toward yellow and green approaching the sphere's midsection. "Andy needs to give this vessel a sustained, firm shove. I assume it's strongest along the bow/stern axis."

  Applied to the bow or stern, thrust would be distributed across the many load-bearing interior bulkheads. Applied anywhere else? External stress would be disastrous. "Correct."

  Carlotta nodded. "Then our bow will push your stern. Not to fly blind, we'll have to network into your forward-looking sensors. We need to push without damaging either vessel, and so—"

  "Equal and opposite reactions," Bud murmured.

  Aboard Andy, Liam said, "Thank you, Isaac." ("No idea," Ship appended.)

  Carlotta ignored the interruptions. "So, we need a structure that safely distributes the force exerted against both ships. This"—she passed a gloved hand through the hologram—"shows apparent weaknesses in your hull."

  The image, if accurate, revealed damage more widespread than even Larrok's worst suspicions.

  Thoughtfully, Bolbon flexed fore-extremities. "How is this representation constructed?"

  Liam said, "The base image is a visual recording we made on arrival. Inferences from radar scans are superimposed on that. Color coding emphasizes variations in the returned signal, where the red end of the spectrum signifies the most scattering. Drifting here yesterday, I confirmed the regions shown in red generally appear melted, bent, abraded, or otherwise damaged."

  "But if," Carlotta resumed, "we've found areas of comparative weakness, we don't know anything about absolute weakness. If Andy can safely push near the stern, your end of the cradle needn't be all that large. But if the stern is as compromised as I fear? Then we'll need a much different, and larger, structure."

  Expending time they could ill afford.

  Bolbon said, "I'd like to understand the mathematical basis of this visualization."

  Upon which, Liam enthusiastically began to expound. Regarding which, Bolbon as avidly pressed for further specifics. Bud muttered something inexplicable about speaking in tongues.

  Hammy, to judge from his lethargy, found all this as excessive as did Larrok.

  "Bolbon," she suggested, "why don't you continue this discussion in the corridor? Ship, I need not listen to that. Meanwhile, Carlotta, I'd like to know your thoughts about a cradle design, of whatever size."

  Launching the human female into her own exposition. Force vectors. Various beams and struts available from Andy's cargo, and their strengths and fracture modes. Questions about hull composition, as it bore upon the expected strength of welds. All valid, if no more than basic mechanics and materials science. She ended with, ". . . but the big unknown remains the absolute strength, from point to point, of your hull. We need to calibrate Liam's model."

  "I expect you have ideas on that, too."

  Carlotta patted her satchel. "I brought an ultrasonic probe that detects subsurface cracks and voids, and measures material depth. The transducer requires physical contact, but testing is nondestructive. Had we reached our asteroid, I'd have assessed trial ingots with it."

  Bud stomped across the cabin to check on Hammy.

  "But testing with ultrasound has its limits. It's point by point. It won't directly measure hull strength." Carlotta paused to nibble on her lower lip. Aliens were . . . alien. With a gloved finger extended into the hologram, she traced a path around (whether or not she knew it) the exterior of the engine room. "There's another, faster method. I expect you won't like it. To be honest, I don't care for it either.

  "The quickest way I know to calibrate Liam's model is to test bunches of weak spots all at once. We do that by raising air pressure astern until we cause one or more leaks. Unless you know a better way?"

  At a proper shipyard? Of course. But here? With the resources available? "Sorry, no."

  "Oh, well." Carlotta exhaled loudly. ("Wistful," Ship explained. "Perhaps also disappointed.") "With ultrasonic probing first of the suspected weakest spots, we might even know where to stand ready to patch."

  Might. Not reassuring. "Where the crucial part of this recommendation was ‘quickest?' "

  "I'm afraid so," Carlotta said. "Given your estimated mass of Greater Good, Liam calculated we have at most a week, seven days, until our ship must begin thrusting. Even sooner, if your ship won't accommodate our maximum thrust. Or else . . ."


  Or else, tiny Andy couldn't shift their present path to an orbit from which yet another Earth vessel might arrive in time: before her would-be rescuers exhausted their own supplies. Help without which both crews were doomed.

  With no viable alternative to suggest, Larrok said, "Then we shall proceed as you suggest."

  Hoping, all the while, the pressure test would not burst her ship's stern.

  ****

  Mia had opened a dedicated channel for Liam to Bolbon and his translator AI, relaying it from the bridge to the dayroom. By then, the Doltan was out of sight of helmet cameras. Within minutes—spared of visual reminders—Liam might have been chatting with a colleague.

  A savvy, curious, detail-obsessed colleague.

  Abruptly, Bolbon's questioning stopped. Was he satisfied with the model? Dismissive? Or preempted by his captain? Whatever the reason, he excused himself.

  Mia called, "Larrok and Bolbon will be heading aft with our guys for the pressure test."

  Liam stood. Mia's console offered a split screen view from two helmet cameras. Both showed Larrok donning vacuum gear. Bolbon wasn't in sight. "Is that why Bolbon cut off our discussion? Suiting up lest the pressure test ends in a blowout?"

  "Among the reasons. They're still low on oh-two, so the aft decks remain in vacuum. Larrok will release nitrogen from a reserve tank for the test. Much of the stern, as you would expect, is their engine room, and that's where your model shows weakness. Reading between the mandibles, Larrok isn't happy."

  About risk from doing the test? Liam wondered. About humans seeing that engine room? Could be either or both. "You're an expert now on Doltan body language?"

  "No. But I'm fluent in captain-speak."

  When Larrok proceeded alone, to make "preparations," Liam agreed with Mia's read.

  Soon enough, Bolbon, Carlotta, and Bud followed. Through an improvised internal air lock. Along dark corridors and stairwells. Into an equally dark expanse, at once cavernous and crowded. Bolbon sealed the hatch behind them.

  Anywhere but close at hand, vast dimensions diluted headlamp light to near imperceptibility. Liam was left with the impression of great engines, of dormant beasts in slumber. Waiting to be awakened.