by Ryk E. Spoor
Gabrielle picked up her own case of data and samples. ‘‘I sure am. Got my family to see, and we both have to pass on hellos from Carl, Steve, and Tom.’’ It said a great deal about Laila that she had no personal messages to convey, only professional communications.
‘‘But you are coming back, Captain Austin?’’ Mandallon said, his crest lifting again.
‘‘I wouldn’t miss this place for the world.’’ As she said it, she realized how much of her was going to miss the Arena. She’d loved being a racing pilot, still did . . . but here she had been something much, much more. Here she’d finally seen the cosmos waiting for her, and it was bigger, stranger, and more exciting than she’d ever imagined. ‘‘I’ll be back, I promise. And not too long from now, either.’’
A few more waves and bows, and the four of them stepped through into the circular room of the Inner Gateway. Several corridors and turns later, they finally approached the door leading to the central area of the Sphere.
Passing through the obedient portal, they passed the automated security perimeter and into the now well-lit hexagon-tiled area in front of the door. Steve and Tom waved from the doorway of a fair-sized building they’d built nearby. Ariane could see the slightly unnatural stiffness of the cloth on Steve’s right arm; the active fabric was still acting as a support splint, Steve having shattered his arm on landing during his flying re-entrance to their Sphere. With medical and internal support nanos it was almost healed now, but still needed a bit of additional bracing.
‘‘Don’t take too long!’’ Steve said. ‘‘Me and Tom want to get back sometime soon, too.’’
‘‘Promise. Hell, they’ll probably start sending more ships through before we get done, and you can come back on one of those as long as we leave someone else here.’’
DuQuesne winced. ‘‘It’s going to be more complicated than that. We can’t just dump a bunch of newcomers here and leave them without one of us old hands to watch ‘em.’’
‘‘Definitely not,’’ Simon agreed. ‘‘According to all our acquaintances—Orphan, Dr. Relgof, even Sethrik—individual rapport is exceedingly important. Newcomers who don’t understand what is going on could get us all in terrible trouble—and, of course, as far as the Arena is concerned, Ariane remains entered as the Leader of Humanity until some official change is made to that status.’’
Leader of Humanity. Boy, is that going to make this an . . . interesting mess once it sinks into the SSC’s collective heads. ‘‘True. Well, guys, you’ll just have to hang in there until we get back, okay?’’
‘‘No worries,’’ Tom said. ‘‘We’ll survive for a few months more without going home, now that we’ve got an established presence.’’
They continued on. ‘‘It’s going to be more complicated still, Ariane,’’ said Simon.
‘‘Why?’’
‘‘If you recall, I did mention—oh, way back when we first had arrived—that the Sandrisson coils interfere with each other at range. Well, after going over the theory and design practice with Relgof and some of the others of the Analytic, I have hard figures for that, which show that—at most—you can have twenty starships in the Harbor at once before there is no safe place to activate a drive within the Harbor. If the ships are significantly larger than a two or three man vessel, the numbers become even lower. Ships will not be able to transition in, nor to transition our, until you either disassemble enough Sandrisson coils to stop the resonance, or you otherwise remove the excess vessels.
‘‘Standard practice in the Arena, of course, is to get them out of the Harbor through the Straits, but we will have to design atmosphere- and gravity-worthy vessels before we can do that; Holy Grail, for instance, would almost certainly not survive the trip through the Straits.’’
Ariane nodded, then told the main door to open, letting them into the brightly-lit giant spacedock at which Holy Grail was docked. ‘‘That means we have to hammer these limitations home and fast, so that everyone and his grandmother doesn’t go charging out to see what this ‘Arena’ is like, and end up blocking off access to the Arena for months while we sort it out.’’ She sighed. ‘‘We’re not even home and already I’m seeing the work piling up.’’
‘‘You could just go back to being a racing pilot.’’ DuQuesne said neutrally. She thought, however, she could see a slight upturn of the corners of the beard.
‘‘And you could just go back to being a power engineer. I’m exactly as much the racing pilot that left as you are the engineer we started with.’’
‘‘Touché. Then you’re stuck with playing politics, Captain.’’
Carl Edlund was waiting for them at the airlock. ‘‘Welcome back, Captain. Your ship awaits.’’
Ariane gave him a huge hug, squeezing so hard that she heard him grunt. ‘‘Watch it, don’t break my spine. I can’t work nearly so well without it.’’
‘‘You just keep an eye on everything until we get back, and don’t accept any Challenges if you can help it . . . or put them off until we get back, at least.’’
Carl grinned. ‘‘Don’t worry, Cap; by the time you come back, I’ll have one of those big Faction Houses cleared out for you.’’
‘‘I’m almost afraid you will.’’ She watched DuQuesne and Simon shake hands with Carl, and Gabrielle gave him a quite emphatic kiss that left him blinking. Ariane managed to restrain what would have been a most undignified giggle at that.
She passed through the airlock and into the cramped, claustrophobic, yet somehow homey and welcoming confines of the Holy Grail. She made her way to the bridge, Simon following her and the others going to their original stations. She sat down and felt the straps and restraints lock in place, hearing Simon doing the same. ‘‘Is everyone settled in?’’
‘‘Power systems all secure. Sandrisson coil power supply fully charged and ready for activation. Reactor prepared for restart.’’ DuQuesne’s calm voice brought an echo from the past, from those last few moments before the universe changed. ‘‘Reaction mass reservoirs refilled. We’re ready to go, Captain.’’
‘‘Medical ready, and hoping to become totally useless in the next few.’’
‘‘Don’t rush it,’’ Ariane said. ‘‘Remember, we first have to get down to the level of the model there, or we’re going to be, what, two or three billion miles out above the plane of the solar system?’’
‘‘How long will that take?’’
‘‘Well, not too long. I’m going to use the chemical rockets, which Tom and DuQuesne were able to get recharged in the past few months, and that means I can kick us up to around, oh, five kps safely and still have plenty of time to stop if something goes wrong. Figure . . . a half hour from launch, a little less, actually, to transition. I’m aiming to come out about forty thousand kilometers from Kanzaki-Three.’’
‘‘Ha!’’ DuQuesne laughed. ‘‘That’ll give ‘em a wake-up call, all right.’’
‘‘Sandrisson Drive, ready.’’ Simon said. ‘‘All coils check out, ghost-field test shows our configuration is within tolerances.’’
‘‘Then Holy Grail detaching from dock.’’ She felt the grapples and connectors disengage, and for the first time in months the first starship from Earth floated free. ‘‘Stand by for chemical rockets in five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . firing!’’
The roar of the chemical drive rumbled throughout Holy Grail, the force of acceleration pushed them back in their seats with a pressure of nearly two gravities. Ariane let out a whoop as she really realized that they were heading home.
The crossing of thousands of empty kilometers seemed somehow to be incredibly short, and as long as eternity. But at last, the coordinates showed a final approach to the target location. ‘‘Doctor Sandrisson?’’
Simon took a deep breath, and activated the controls. ‘‘Sandrisson coils charging. Field building evenly. Countdown to transition begins. In ten seconds . . . Five . . . Two, one . . .’’
There was a lurch, a wrench in the f
undamental fabric of the universe; Ariane felt something inside her . . . click, almost like a ratchet moving a notch.
Full lights blazed on inside Holy Grail, and she felt/ heard/sensed all systems coming back online.
‘‘Reactor restarting. Power back to maximum in estimated forty-seven seconds.’’ DuQuesne said calmly.
There was a confused babble from the various AIs as they tried to sort out their location, condition, time. A deeply resonant pseudo-voice echoed from a long-silent box at her hip.
Ariane Austin of Tellus, I confess that I find myself utterly inadequate. My Visualization seems to have failed me.
‘‘Don’t worry, Mentor. I’ll fill you in. If you haven’t managed it on your own.’’ She was suddenly struck with wonder anew, as she saw on the forward screens the blazing cold blackness of space and stars, so different from the strange world of the Arena.
‘‘Kanzaki-Three control is screaming at us, Captain,’’ Simon said, with a bit of a laugh. ‘‘And the automatic controls are complaining about being cut off from the loop.’’
‘‘They can just put up with it for the next few minutes. I’m bringing her in on manual.’’ She activated the commnet. ‘‘Kanzaki-Three, this is Experimental Vessel 2112FTL, Holy Grail, reporting back.’’ She grinned at the others, as she continued, ‘‘Control, you will not believe where we’ve been!’’