Search for the Saiph (The Saiph Series Book 2)

by PP Corcoran

  “If I may, Admiral?”

  Christos couldn’t help but let a brief smile play on his lips as the physicist sought his permission to begin the lecture… sorry, briefing. With an almost imperceptible nod, he sat back to listen to the scientists’ conclusions.

  “Before I get into our theory behind the energy sources, I would like to quickly go over the data we’ve so far amassed on this system.” Amanda touched a control and the holo cube sprang to life to show a compact triple-star system.

  “Algol A is a blue-white main sequence star with a mass approximately 3.59 times that of Sol and about 2.88 times its diameter, with a luminosity ninety-eight times that of Sol and a fast rotational velocity of sixty five kilometers per second. Algol B, as you can see, is an orange-red star and was actually once the most massive star in this system but has now become a cool, low-mass subgiant in which tidal forces from Algol A have distorted the swollen outer gas envelope of the star, so it now forms a teardrop shape. That brings me to Algol C. A bluish-white main sequence dwarf star with a mass 1.67 times that of Sol, a diameter 1.7 times Sol and a luminosity 4.1 times that of Sol.” Amanda touched another control and a yellow elliptical band appeared around the three stars.

  “Due to the fact that this is a triple star system, we would expect to find any planet where liquid water on the surface could be found would be around fourteen Astronomical Units out from the system center, or roughly somewhere between the orbit of Saturn and Uranus in our own system and its planetary year would be equivalent to twenty-seven Earth years.”

  Walter paused and viewed the audience over the top of his glasses, which had slipped down his nose. Christos got that sitting in a lecture feeling again.

  “Now we get to the interesting part, ladies and gentlemen. Any planet that we could expect to find in the Goldilocks zone would be a very young planet, even if it was capable of retaining surface water. By our understanding of evolution, any life on the planet is most likely to be a single cell anaerobic bacteria, which would be constantly under bombardment by meteorites and comets very similar to Earth in the first billion years or so of its existence…Which does not explain this!”

  With a touch of the control panel, Amanda brought up a planet the color of a blue and white marble. If Christos didn’t know better, he would swear he was looking at a picture of Earth from high orbit. He looked around and saw he wasn’t the only one taken aback by this seemingly impossible planet. A planet human science said shouldn’t, no, couldn’t exist! But there it was, all the same. And around it floated pinpoints of light mixed with darker spots highlighted against the planet’s swirling white clouds.

  Walter Kernaghan had a sense of the showman in him and reveled in the shocked faces of his audience for a few moments before Amanda cleared her throat loudly, her hint for him to continue.

  “I see that many of you are intrigued by the pinpoints of light which appear to be surrounding the planet and the darker shapes which are in obvious orbit of it, but if I could keep your attention for a few minutes more, I’ll come back to the darker shapes in a moment. I would like, firstly, to cover the objects that are not only surrounding the planet but, we’ve found, extend throughout the entire system. Especially near large asteroid fields. Amanda, if you would be so kind…”

  The image zoomed in on one of the bright, firefly-like objects to reveal kilometer after kilometer of solar panels.

  “There must be hundreds of square kilometers of solar panels on that thing,” muttered one of the young staffers on Ambassador Schamu’s staff.

  “Not hundreds, young lady, thousands. And in the middle of each massive field of solar panels is a spherical gamma ray laser.”

  The staffer gave Walter a confused look. “But to what end?”

  The smile returned to Walter’s lips as he answered her question lightly. “Why, to make black holes of course.”

  The room descended into total silence as the gathered scientists, navy personnel, and diplomats took in what Walter had just said. The silence was shattered by a clamor of voices shouting questions or dismissals at Walter. Christos gave them a few seconds to get it out of their systems, then caught Mkhize’s eye. The captain understood the unspoken order as he slowly rose to his feet before bringing his balled fist down on the table with the sound of an angry god.

  “Silence!” Mkhize gave the assembled gathering a withering look. Daring someone to defy his instruction. None did.

  From his seat at the head of the table, Christos addressed Walter in a calm, detached voice. “Please continue, Doctor.”

  Walter gave Christos a perfunctory nod before turning to face the questioning audience.

  “Before the period in Earth’s history which became known as World War Three, it was theorized that by using solar panels, one could slowly charge a spherical gamma ray laser over a number of years. When the laser was eventually discharged it would do so with the equivalent of a million metric tons of mass. This mass would be released into a converging spherical shell of protons. As the shell implodes, the energy becomes so dense that its own gravity focuses it to a single point and a black hole is formed.”

  Christos wasn’t the only one wondering why you would want to create a black hole. “But for what purpose, Doctor?”

  “Well, on forming, the black hole would immediately begin to release the energy which was used to form it. If the black hole could be placed at the center of a parabolic electron gas mirror that would reflect all the energy radiated from the black hole in one direction it could quite easily be used to propel a starship up to near the speed of light. Particle beams would be attached to the ship behind the black hole which would be used to simultaneously feed the black hole and propel it along with the ship.”

  Ambassador Schamu appeared unconvinced. “Surely Doctor you can’t simply drag a massive black hole around space with you?”

  The smile on Walter’s face said everything. “A black hole of around a million tons would be about the size of one thousandth the size of a proton… So, why not? Obviously creating and harnessing black holes is no easy feat, but the laws of physics certainly allow for it.”

  Ambassador Schamu shook his head slowly, still unconvinced. “So what makes you think that that’s what these,” Schamu indicated the thousands of square kilometers of solar panels, “contraptions are for?”

  “Ah! I’m glad you asked. Black holes send out a very distinct form of radiation. We call it Hawking radiation. Amanda, if you could bring up the next image please.”

  The image of the solar panels was replaced by that of an unfamiliar starship. A large central body with what could only be described as the double blades of opened scissors protruding from the front and extending away from it. The entire ship was dull, gun-metal gray and edged in midnight blue. The artist in Christos appreciated its flowing lines tapering to the points of the parallel sloping blades, but to the navy man in Christos it looked like a nasty piece of hardware.

  “We have counted fifteen ships in orbit around the planet and each of them is giving off Hawking radiation.” Walter sat with a smug look on his face as the room once more burst into loud discussion.

  #

  Christos was happy to leave the ongoing, and very vocal, discussion in the briefing room for the relative quiet of his own quarters. It gave him time to think through Walter’s conclusions. Not for the first time, he wished he had some of those new stealthy reconnaissance probes that the eggheads at Research and Development kept promising. He would’ve given his right hand for a few close readings of the planet to either confirm or deny the conclusions.

  Christos’ musings were interrupted by a single elongated tone, signaling that someone was requesting entry. Christos answered the call. “Who is it, Corporal?”

  “Ambassador Schamu wishes to speak to the admiral, sir.”

  Christos’ eyes rolled. What did he want? Was his dinner wine chilled to the incorrect temperature again?

  “Let him in, Corporal.”

  The mai
n bulkhead door slid aside and Nicholas Schamu strutted into Christos’ private quarters with a somber expression on his face, a look that Christos found unusual on a man who usually displayed about as much expression as a professional card shark.

  “Something troubling you, Nicholas?” Christos inquired guardedly.

  Nicholas didn’t answer immediately, which was indeed unusual. Christos had only just gotten used to Nicholas’s condoning aristocratic tone, though even after hosting the man in his home, Christos was still unsure of how to take the dapper ambassador.

  At Christos’ question, the distracted Nicholas seemed to at last register his presence.

  “My apologies Christos, but something that Doctor Kernaghan pointed out during his eloquent briefing has been bothering me. Before I go to my staff with it, I thought it prudent to speak with the flotilla commander.”

  Running an idea past me? That’s a first, thought Christos, but he held his tongue as Nicholas took the other only comfortable seat in the room.

  “Perhaps a cup of coffee before we begin, Nicholas? It’ll give you a few moments to organize your thoughts.”

  “That would be kind, Christos. Perhaps some Longjing tea if you have it?”

  Christos kept his face deadpan as he tapped his wrist comm, he requested coffee and the rare tea from his steward, Walcott. Walcott had been in the game long enough, Christos was sure, to have done his research into the favorite beverages of all the admiral’s likely callers and had stocked the kitchen appropriately.

  The two men made small talk while they awaited their drinks, which dutifully arrived less than five minutes later. Once Walcott retreated from the room, Christos broke the ice.

  “So what did Doctor Kernaghan say that has you so perturbed, Nicholas?”

  Nicholas closed his eyes as he enjoyed the smell and taste of the ridiculously expensive green tea before setting his cup back on the bone-china saucer. Christos’ own coffee was served in an oversized mug that the crew of his first command had given him – a joke on the amount of coffee he regularly consumed, which was enough to keep any other human being awake for a week, according to his first XO.

  Nicholas responded to Christos’ question. “One of the many points that the good doctor raised was that he believed the planet, around which the ships are clustered, should not be possible; not in its current advanced state, at any rate. At this stage in its development it should be hard-pressed to support bacteria, never mind a civilization which has harnessed black holes as a form of propulsion.”

  Christos had to admit he had some concerns over the advanced development of the planet himself, he also had a feeling that Nicholas had more to say.

  “Anything else from the brief that’s bothering you, Nicholas?”

  Nicholas took another sip of his tea and a contented look came over his face as the warm liquid calmed him momentarily.

  “If we take the doctor’s assumptions as fact, i.e., the planet cannot possibly be in such an advanced state naturally, then we must extrapolate that the planet’s been artificially accelerated in its development; that some type of terra forming has brought the planet to its current state.”

  Christos saw the pieces fall into place, he had a good idea where Nicholas was heading. “Go on.”

  “It infers that whoever is in control of the ships currently orbiting the planet is also responsible for the terra forming, which leads me to an uncomfortable conclusion, which may also prove a problem for you.”

  Christos feared he shared Nicholas’ uncomfortable conclusion.

  “My point, Christos, is that the original inhabitants of the planet, the ones that we have traveled so far to find, may no longer exist and instead we are facing a new species that have either conquered, absorbed, or simply eradicated the species that the Saiph intended to become the predominant species on the planet.”

  Nicholas sat back in his chair and sipped his tea, while Christos silently drank his coffee, trying to come up with a plausible argument to Nicholas’ well thought-out reasoning.

  In the end he didn’t have to. The wail of the battle station’s call reverberated throughout the Cutlass. Christos jumped to his feet, punching his direct link to Mkhize.

  The face of his flag captain appeared instantly in the holo cube.

  “Twelve bogeys approaching the flotilla at high sub-light speed, Admiral. Tactical has designated them Bogey One and has put them seventy-nine minutes out from our current location…”

  Something out of the holo’s pickup caused Mkhize to turn away for a few seconds.

  “Second group of bogeys detected. Tactical is still firming up their numbers but they are now designated Bogey Two. ETA eighty-four minutes. Bogey Two is coming in from the opposite direction to Bogey One. It looks like they’re trying a pincer movement. Communication drones are downloading now and will be ready to dispatch back to Survey Command at your order. Shall I prepare the flotilla to fold back to Earth space?”

  Christos didn’t reply immediately as he thought through his options, completely ignoring Nicholas, who stood next to him, still holding his teacup. Two separate groups of unknown ships were approaching the flotilla at high speed. He could interpret this as an aggressive move but in the same breath, if Commonwealth forces had detected a group of unknown ships in their space, how would they react? No doubt in the same fashion. When it came down to it, Christos’ orders had been to find out what happened to the race the Saiph had visited in this star system, the ships currently charging toward him were the only ones who could answer that. Even if the beings on these ships weren’t the original occupants of the planet, surely it was Survey Command’s job to make peaceful contact with alien species and extend the hand of friendship... Decision made!

  “Mkhize, plot a fold back to Earth space, but don’t execute. Ensure that all ships of the flotilla are weapons tight and remain that way unless they either receive an express order to change their weapons state from the flagship or are fired upon. Begin transmitting on all frequencies in Saiph, Terran, Garundan, and Persai that we have no aggressive intentions and only wish peaceful relations. Download my orders to the drones, then get them away. I’ll be on the flag bridge in a few minutes.”

  Mkhize gave Christos a sharp nod and cut the link.

  Turning to face Nicholas, he raised his mug in mock salute.

  “It would appear that your diplomacy skills will be needed shortly, Nicholas. Perhaps you would like to finish your tea before accompanying me to the flag bridge?”

  For only the second time that he could remember, Christos saw a real smile touch Nicholas’ lips.

  “One must have a decent cup of tea before what may turn out to be lengthy negotiations. Keeps the throat from going dry at the most inopportune moment, you see.”

  A short laugh escaped Christos. “Indeed, Nicholas. Indeed.”

  #

  “Tactical. Status of Bogey One and Two?”

  “Admiral. Bogey One has come to a halt at half a million kilometers from the edge of the flotilla directly between us and the planet. Bogey Two is slowing and I believe it will also hold at the half-million- kilometer point.”

  “Communications, any reply to our transmissions?”

  “Negative, Admiral. We are continuing to transmit on all frequencies but have received no reply. As per your orders, we’ve not attempted whisker laser contact.”

  Christos unconsciously tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair as he tried to fathom the intentions of the unknown ships. Was Bogey One waiting on the arrival of the reinforcements of Bogey Two before launching an attack? Tactical were telling him that each group of bogeys were made up of the same compliment of ships. A large ship roughly one and a half times the size of the TDF’s own Bismarck class battleship, the largest warship the Commonwealth fielded at present. The Bureau of Design may need to rethink that one, thought Christos. Three ships slightly smaller than a Bismarck. Six ships roughly equivalent to the Vulcan heavy cruiser and two that weighed in somewhere between
the Bismarck and the Vulcan. When you considered both sets of bogeys together, his small flotilla was vastly inferior in tonnage and, he had no doubt, firepower. Christos consoled himself that, so far, no one had fired a shot in anger.

  “Well, what do you think, Nicholas?” asked Christos, as he turned to the ambassador sitting in a chair off to one side of his own command chair.

  Without hesitation, Nicholas replied. “It would appear that we have ourselves a standoff. Neither side is willing to make the first move so, with the admiral’s permission, may I suggest that we be the first to initiate contact?”

  Christos’ left eyebrow arched as he gave Nicholas a quizzical look. “And pray tell Nicholas, how you suggest we do that? We’re already broadcasting our peaceful intent and have been doing so for over an hour without as much as a break in the static from those ships.”

  The slight ambassador took a sip of his tea. Tea? Thought Christos. Where the hell did he get that from on my flag bridge?

  “I’d be willing to board a shuttle craft with a single aide and minimal crew and fly out to a halfway point between our ships and theirs and see what sort of reaction we get.”

  Christos was dumbfounded and struggled to get a reply out. “Are you crazy? We have no idea what their intentions are. They could open fire on us at any moment and you wouldn’t stand a chance in a shuttle if we start lobbing nuclear warheads and grazers around the place. No. It’s out of the question.”

  Nicholas’ expression had remained unchanged throughout Christos’ outburst. “Do you have a better idea?”

  #

  Christos tracked the progress of the shuttle on his tactical display as it departed Cutlass and slowly approached the midpoint between SurvFlot One and Bogey One. Christos had held the shuttle’s departure until Bogey Two had taken up station, as predicted by the tactical officer, a half million kilometers diagonally opposite from Bogey One. If both groups of ships fired on his small flotilla, there was no doubt in Christos’ mind that he was going to take a beating before his ships could escape into fold space.