Helium 3: Fight for the Future

by Brandon Q. Morris

  Helium-3: Fight for the Future

  Brandon Q. Morris

  Cliff Allister

  Contents

  Helium-3: Fight for the Future

  Author's Notes

  Also by Brandon Q. Morris

  Helium-3: Fight for the Future

  43rd of Frien, 298

  “Watch out for the wall! Be careful!”

  Kimikizu turned away so she didn’t have to see the collision. She’d thoroughly explained the situation to her protégé three times already—since the day before, the ship had been braking full force, and thus Niribinu should have been angling her wings more slowly when she was making turns. Why was she stuck giving flying lessons to this smug girl who was just 43 days old? Surely her skills were more urgently needed in the navigation department.

  “How was I?”

  Unbelievable. Niribinu had smacked against the wall like a wet cloth, and she still expected praise?

  “Come on! The nosedive before, I mean, that was amazing, right?”

  No. She wouldn’t give this good-for-nothing praise she didn’t deserve, even if it was just a matter of months before Niribinu would be her boss. It had been a matter of pure luck. When the Supreme Navigator had died 73 days before, this girl’s egg had happened to be the one next in line. It was the Supreme Mother herself who had hatched her, and Niribinu’s wingspan was now almost as wide as her own. Yet her ego was about ten times greater.

  This once again confirmed Kimikizu’s hypothesis that weak character was innate. In this case, it couldn’t be from the Supreme Mother. She was considered an exceptionally humble Iks who had seen it all over her 320 life cycles, including the launch from the home world.

  “I’m going to complain about you to the Supreme Leaders, Kimikizu. I certainly can’t learn if you don’t give me any feedback.”

  Feedback! Kimikizu had to keep her beak from clacking at the very thought. The chickie wanted flattery, but she just wasn’t going to deliver. She looked at the ceiling of the vast hangar where they were doing the flying exercises. It was already two-thirds dark, meaning her shift would be over soon.

  “All you need to do to get feedback is to take a look at yourself in the mirror, Niri.”

  She deliberately used the abbreviated form of Niribinu’s name, which was used for chicks—no adult Iks would have responded—but the insult was lost on Niribinu. Either she hadn’t noticed, because she was still used to it, or she had the talent of simply filtering out anything unpleasant. But, it was impossible to ignore the effects of her collision with the wall. Three of the feathers on her head were broken. On the side, where her bare skull protruded, a distinct lump was slowly turning brown.

  “Oh,” Niribinu said, turning as if there was a mirror behind her rather than the wall she’d just slid down.

  “Yes. The landing was not optimal,” Kimikizu said. She had to pull herself together to keep her beak from clacking loudly.

  “Attention. Attention,” an announcement suddenly boomed. “Navigators to the control center, please.”

  Ha, she thought, I’m saved for today. “Unfortunately, I must be off. See you tomorrow for flight training, same time.”

  Niribinu parted with the traditional greeting, “Steady upwind.”

  At least she was polite.

  To get to the control center, Kimikizu used one of the large wind tunnels that ran through the entire ship. Although it took longer than with the pneumatic tube capsule, she enjoyed exerting herself. When she arrived, the other Navigators had already situated themselves in their seats. Hers was on the edge. She pattered in, spread her wings, and settled in. It was unnecessary at the moment, as the course was locked in and couldn’t be changed from the control chairs, anyway. But the Navigators traditionally held their meetings while lying down, although Kimikizu didn’t connect the motion sensors to her wings and legs, as she otherwise would have done.

  “Brides of the Wind,” Supreme Navigator greeted them.

  According to tradition, Navigators were only female. It was said that the female sex had a better sense of which course to take, plain and simple.

  “The Knowledge Guardians have finally managed to compile the data from the reconnaissance flights, the automatic probes, and the on-board telescopes,” said the Supreme Navigator.

  It was about time. If they didn’t slow down from interstellar to stellar speed soon, the ship would leave this system on a hyperbolic trajectory. Kimikizu shivered because the very idea frightened her. The Iks species had left the home world almost 300 cycles before because the Guardians had finally found a system that could ensure their civilization's survival for the next ten billion years. Where else could you find four gas giants?

  Recently, Kimikizu had been dreaming of spreading out her wings in the cloud layers of the largest one and embarking on an almost-endless journey. That was freedom! It seemed almost irrelevant to her that the planets also offered vast reserves of the material their civilization needed to survive. She could just keep on soaring without any other living being, simply flying with her wings outstretched.

  This was unrealistic, of course—she also needed food and water. But dreams were a part of life.

  “...entering the orbit of the central star as planned.” Oh, dear. Kimikizu was annoyed with herself. She had not been listening to the Supreme Navigator. The control center ceiling changed and a massive white star appeared. It seemed unreal. The home sun had glowed a pleasant red, but throughout the millions of years its energy output had steadily decreased. This star, on the other hand, was in its prime. While they’d always tried to get closer and closer to the home sun to still feel its warmth, they would have to pay careful attention to their distance from this one.

  The picture changed, and the star shrank.

  “The display is not to scale anymore,” the Chief Navigator announced, although everyone had probably already reached that conclusion. A round object had appeared next to the star, a grayish-brown, rocky planet, its surface bearing scorch marks from the star, and dotted with meteorite craters.

  “Temperatures between sixty and a hundred and fifty lini,” explained the Supreme Navigator. Sometimes it was ice cold, and at others very hot. Kimikizu knew what the plan was, of course. As useless as this planet appeared, it was the crucial piece of their survival puzzle. It was only when the Guardians had confirmed that they’d found a terrestrial planet in the proximity of a star that it became clear that their civilization still had a chance.

  “You’ve probably already guessed the good news. The planet is completely uninhabited.” The other Navigators clattered their beaks enthusiastically, and Kimikizu joined them. The Supreme Leaders, along with the 10,000 members of the Iks nation, had long discussed what they would have done if they were to arrive at the rock planet only to discover that it was colonized. There was, after all, a cruel fate in store for the planet. It would either collide with its star or spend the next billion cycles alone in the cosmic cold.

  “How much time do we have?” asked Lobozinu. The elderly Iks was the only one who dared to ask the Supreme Navigator such direct questions.

  Kimikizu tried to remember the last time Lobozinu had spread her wings. As a rule, she only pattered through the corridors of the ark. But she was popular because of her sharp wits. She’d grown up on the home world with the Supreme Navigator, and rumor had it that they’d even come from the same nest—a real nest, at that, since back then nests were still made of almond tree branches.

  “The maneuver must begin in two days at the latest,” said the Supreme Navigator. Some of those present clattered their beaks quietly. Kimikizu was surprised, too.

  “Yes, it’s
not much time,” said the Supreme Navigator. “But I talked it over with the Uncertainty Oracle, which is certain that we will accomplish the maneuver.”

  “Then why are we meeting here at all?” asked Lobozinu.

  The Supreme Navigator squawked. Kimikizu thought she was going to tell Lobozinu to keep her beak shut. However, it just grew unusually quiet. Could it be that the Supreme Navigator was still looking for the right words? Finally, she said, “The Explorers insist that a Navigator assist the maneuver.”

  Silence. The notion flew in the face of the traditional division of labor between the sexes. Kimikizu was frightened. Was it really a good idea to begin their fresh start in the new system with a revolution?

  “I know what you’re thinking,” said the Supreme Navigator. “I had similar concerns, but the Supreme Explorer was able to dispel them. It’s not a question of us doing the work of the males. It’s very risky to approach the rock planet from interstellar speed. We can’t afford to make any mistakes, and there will be no second chances. However, it’s not possible to precisely calculate the trajectory in advance. For this reason, a Navigator must be aboard the Explorer ship.”

  “Couldn’t the Uncertainty Oracle calculate the course remotely and transmit it to the ship?” asked Lobozinu.

  “Because of the distance and the high speed, the margin for error is too great. Someone at the controls of the Explorer ship has to calculate the path.”

  “You’re right, Supreme Navigator,” said Lobozinu in a placating tone. “And now?”

  “I could designate a candidate from among us,” said the Supreme Navigator. “But I’d prefer to have a volunteer. You’re well aware that it’s not always easy with the Explorers.”

  With the males, Kimikizu thought. She means, with the males in general.

  “The Navigator who volunteers shouldn’t be the hesitant type, and she should be able to put her birdseed where her beak is in the event of an emergency,” said the Supreme Navigator.

  Lobozinu laughed. “Oh, that would have been an assignment meant for me,” she said, “back ten years ago. Imagine the fun you’ll have there!”

  Nobody else answered. Kimikizu saw how everyone was trying to sink deeper into their cushions. Time was passing incredibly slowly today.

  After what seemed to Kimikizu to be an endless silence, the Supreme Navigator said, “The Explorer ship will start shortly after midnight and will be in transit for two to three days. I’ll give you an hour to think it over. After that, if no one volunteers, I’ll have to choose someone.”

  Two to three days. She’d spent her entire life on board the generation ship that her ancestors had set up in the hollowed-out interior of an asteroid. Now she had the opportunity to leave the spaceship for at least two days. She clattered her beak involuntarily.

  “Kimikizu?”

  The Supreme Navigator must have heard her. But that was not how she had meant it! Or had she? Kimikizu thought about training with Niribinu. She wouldn’t have to see the spoiled brat for two days. Wasn’t that alone worth it?

  “Yes, Supreme Navigator?”

  “I got the impression that you wanted to say something.”

  “Yes.” Kimikizu couldn’t believe she’d just said that.

  “Yes, what?” asked the Supreme Navigator.

  She could still turn back. All she had to do was say something unrelated. That would undoubtedly ruffle the Supreme Navigator’s feathers, but ultimately it didn’t matter. Her career had already been predetermined for her when she’d still been inside an egg. There was no need to go above and beyond.

  “I will accompany the Explorers,” said Kimikizu.

  Now it was out and she couldn’t turn back without losing face. She would leave the ark and fly to the rocky planet. Darn it, she thought, what had she gotten herself into? Her innermost downy feathers stood on end.

  “Wonderful, Kimikizu,” said the Supreme Navigator. “You will represent us well there.”

  “And most importantly, you’re going to have lots of fun, dear,” added Lobozinu. “I must confess that I’m jealous of you, getting to make this journey.”

  Fun. Glory. Kimikizu wasn’t all that sure that even one of the two was within a wingspan’s reach. She had always lacked the big tail feathers needed to become a heroine. But it was worth it to not have to train with Niribinu in the upcoming two days.

  The Net Fleet

  Twenty new stars appeared on the edge of the system. At least it would have looked like so at first glimpse to somebody on the surface of one of the planets that orbited the bright yellow sun. Yet from up close it was not new stars that suddenly appeared, but rather brightly shining spots of light that had formed in the icy vacuum of space for no apparent reason. They didn’t remain stable for long. Just a few tenths of a second after they materialized they expanded, and a dark spot appeared at the center of each one, although the word ‘dark’ doesn’t quite do justice to the impression these spots gave—it was not just the sense of absence of light, but rather the absence of everything! It was as if 20 holes had been punched through the fabric of the universe… and this was just what had happened.

  Twenty spaceships burst out of the 20 wormholes, coming back into the reality of outer space. One ship scarcely made it out before the wormhole from which it had exited shrank behind it to then contract into a spot of light that quickly faded. All 20 of these new ‘stars’ disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

  On one of the 20 ships, Netmaster Kasfok opened his three right eyes and glared mercilessly at the troublemaker who had dared to interrupt his meditation. Reluctantly, he loosened his back legs from the net, opened his three left eyes, swung his body around, and dropped via a fresh thread to the floor of the meditation room.

  From the entryway, Threadfinder Jokar drummed on the floor with his two front legs, communicating a greeting along with an apology for disturbing the meditation session. Kasfok received the vibrations and emitted a pheromone cloud that signaled his salutations and indulgence.

  The report! he drummed back.

  Successful passage, came the answer. All ships have arrived in the target system. The remote localization has been confirmed.

  Kasfok was satisfied—in fact, more than satisfied! As master of the network, he was not only responsible for the 20 ships, but the fate of the remainder of his species hinged on his very mandibles. And this survival depended not least on their ability to replenish their dwindling energy resources. This wormhole transfer had been the last they could make using their jump generators, since the fusion reactors lacked the helium-3 fuel to create the energy needed for another one. They had placed all their bets on this system because it was unique among the galaxy's solar systems.

  Maybe not unique, but certainly an exception, thought Kasfok.

  The Milky Way has an inconceivably high number of planets, yet only a few of them are gas giants. These few almost always have orbits that are very close to their sun, making accessing them problematic, if not impossible. It is extremely rare to find a gas giant that is far enough from its central star to allow for the mining of helium-3 from its atmosphere. Helium-3 would inevitably become a vital energy source, a coveted raw material for all space-faring species.

  On gas planets, the helium isotope is found in its original cosmic ratio. This is higher than on any rock planet, meaning that gas planets serve as the preferred and most sought-after source for this precious substance. Thus, gas planets orbiting their respective suns at suitable distances will take spots at the top of the list of heavenly bodies that astronomers of all intelligent species will seek. Finding a solar system with four such planets would be an incredible stroke of luck for any space-faring civilization. Ah, but this was just what they had succeeded in doing. For the remnant still in existence, the future of their people was assured for the time being.

  What did the scans show? Kasfok drummed.

  As we had hoped, Netmaster. Four gas giants at a considerable distance from the central star. It wil
l not be challenging to harvest helium-3 from their atmospheres. Threadfinder Jokar emitted a cloud of contentment. He was responsible for the navigation of the small fleet, which he had brought here safely on the last of their energy reserves.

  Are there signs of life in this system?

  This was their greatest concern. They no longer had the resources to hold their ground against any advanced civilization that might be located in the destination system.

  No, Netmaster! None of the planets are inhabited. We’re not getting any radio signals, and there are no local heat emissions on any of the planets to indicate settlements or energy generation systems. We are the only living beings in this system.

  Pleased, Kasfok brandished his mandibles. He retrieved the results from the scans and sensor data on a terminal on the wall of the meditation room. One look dashed the faint hopes he’d had of finding a new home for his species in the system. None of the planets was suitable for settlement by the Mendraki. There were indeed two planets orbiting within the habitable zone. Unfortunately for them, one was almost entirely lacking in atmosphere, and the other showed too high an oxygen content for his species to survive there. They’d have to keep looking.

  Something in the jumble of data caught his attention. What’s this? he drummed on the communication thread.

  Nothing unusual, Netmaster! An asteroid that’s on a course within the system. It’s probably an object from deep space that has been caught in the sun’s gravitational field. With the path it’s on, it will plunge into the sun before too long.

  Go and inform the other Shipmasters! In a few pulses I will give the command to start the braking maneuver.

  Shortly after, Kasfok entered the bridge of the fleet’s lead ship. The other Shipmasters were already on the screens, awaiting his instructions. While no pheromones could be transmitted via radio, it was almost possible to smell the various conflicting feelings. Each one was waiting with a communication limb poised on a thread. Kasfok’s drummed instructions would be translated into electrical impulses and transmitted to the recipient as vibrations of the communication thread. They would all be able to feel his words.