by Dain White
“One moment,” he replied.
I waited long enough for Pauli to finish a long, slow sip.
“Dak,” I continued, “I know you were hoping to stand down until Shorty and Yak are all patched up, but we might need to raise ship.”
“Very well, what’s the situation?”
“Janis has almost completed installation of the MP field generators, and Em wants to restore Janis immediately.”
“This should absolutely be our highest priority, Gene. I am just about to get a quick refill of my cup, just enough to make it back. That reminds me—”
“I’m just about to put a fresh pot on, skipper,” I called back, waiving for Pauli to toss me his cup.
“Outstanding…” he trailed off, clearly distracted.
I waited for a moment, imagining him taking a big sip of something brewed on a service destroyer. It wasn’t just my imagination.
“Gene, the coffee here is awful, simply deplorable. I need you make me proud on that brew, mister.”
“Coffee hot and waiting, aye skipper,” I replied. “You have the conn, Pauli,” I called out and kicked aft to the galley.
“I have the conn,” he replied automatically.
I made my way down the ladder to the gun deck, and kicked off. “Janis, what exactly does this new field generator do?”
“Gene, it’s really a fascinating approach. Em’s analysis of the alien teleportation generator gave us the clue we needed. We call the specific stasis fields we are going to generate MP fields, after Majumdar and Papapetrou, theoretical physicists that initially coined the mathematical function used to calculate the electromagnetic hyper-monopole.”
She had me with that one. “The what?”
“It’s a specific type of electromagnetic field that has been precisely collapsed into itself, in a manner that creates a zone of singularity, or ‘time density’ in a spherical field around the generator.”
“Janis, that sounds like our stasis fields,” I replied, and got to work looking for the right beans. I didn’t want the captain to think I just shoveled them in.
“That’s correct Gene. Initially, it was thought that the end result of an application of this theoretical research would be to create a field that insulates the interior contents from the normal flow of time – and it was discovered that at low energy levels, this is true, but only to a certain point. While time does slow down somewhat, the strongest effect occurs because the external and internal surfaces of the field are inversely proportional, in perfect opposition. The ‘stasis’ field locks in a bubble of normal space and insulates the interior from the effects of gravity on the exterior. While the outer surface is very strongly affected by the effects of gravity, the inner surface is very weakly affected. This means, a projected amount of pseudogravity beyond the stasis field will serve to pull the ‘bubble’ of the field at hyperluminal velocities.”
“Makes sense. So what are you doing differently?” I asked, checking to make sure I had the proper count. Dak might brew by feel, but I had a system.
“Gene, at the energy levels we will be using, the modifications we are making will essentially create a nested harmonic, a condition that I believe will create a stasis field with the net effect that the interior will have more volume than the exterior, a strange condition caused by the folding of the fields at a quantum level.”
“What will that do?”
“By controlling the harmonic, the inner and outer fields can be oscillated to affect the flow of time, to speed it up, as well as to reverse it, given sufficient energy.”
“So time continues to move on, but…?”
“Yes, Gene. Outside of the field time continues to pass, but within the stasis field we will be rotated at an axis away from the flow of time. The differing densities will be leveraged in a similar manner to the frame-dragging effects of pseudogravity emitters – only we’ll pull ourselves through time, instead of space.”
I took a moment from working the press, to let the steam settle. “And this will work?”
“We are convinced that it will.”
“And if it doesn’t Janis? What is the worst that could happen when you light this up?”
My only answer was silence.
“Janis?” I prodded softly, topping off the carafe.
“Gene, the worst that could happen, is if it doesn’t work.”
She had an excellent point. All the same, I wasn’t sure. It sounded pretty dangerous to ramp up exotic energy fields and then force them to collapse in new and exciting ways.
“Gene,” Emwan said sweetly. “Janis is correct, but neither of us thinks that will happen.”
I took another moment to run enough water through the grounds to fill our cups.
“Captain?”
“I’m almost there, Gene.”
I tidied up, making sure there was a vacuum in the bean locker. That’s something we never forget, on this ship.
08242614@03:04 Shaun Onebull
I was in chest deep cold water at night, and the shoreline rose high above me, cold and wet, deep in shadow. Phosphorescence in the waves swept by, and I scrambled on the slimy rocks below. Jane was somewhere up there, or at least it seemed like it. My eyes slowly followed the road as it curved under the overhanging cliffs far above, lit by the lights of passing grounders. The faint whirring noises as they passed by faded in and out by the hissing rush of the waves boiling past.
Suddenly I was being swept along the crusty, sharp rocks, unable to stop. The more I fought in the waves, the harder I swam, the faster I slid away. I tried to yell her name, but a wave flooded into my mouth and I choked in a sea of bubbles, kicking hard, trying to get above the surface.
When I broke the surface and breathed, the scaffolding above me loomed strangely, lit in the moonlight. My fingers reached out, feeling the rough patches of bark on the ancient wood, tied with twisted braid, faded grey.
I remembered this place.
As I floated past in the current, my grandfather stood high above, grey hair lit by the silver moon, fishing for tkwinat, the swift Chinook salmon. He sang softly over the roar of the water, calling them by name as they raced upstream through the foaming rapids. I tried to grab on, to call out, and slipped again into the shadowed depths, the silent gurgle and flush of the water in my ears, burning hot against my eyes.
The water was dim, a dark shadow below, the overhanging mud banks far above lit by the moonlight, the flashing streaks dancing across the mud, and I continued to fall. The surface was interrupted by the frantic splashing and kicking of the other kids, searching, looking for me. I was too young to swim, and I had to wait until my toes sunk into the cold deep mud at the bottom, before I could kick to the surface.
My lungs burned, but I knew I had to hold on; I had to make it back up.
08242614@04:51 Jane Short
My fingers trailed lightly through the glimmering, shimmering water, kissed by the golden sunlight. The wind danced across the waves in little ripples, glints of light piercing brightly through the deep shade of my hat, and snapping sharply against the sails high above.
I was with my dad, on his little boat racing across the sparkling blue waters of San Diego bay, the glorious sunlight dappled across the terracotta rooftops of the sprawling, ancient city by the sea.
It was so beautiful. My dad sat up, looking intently over my head, and I spun around to see what it was, rocking the little boat.
Lurking in the distance, unknown and dangerous, the darkening horizon and sea haze beyond the bay looked like a nightmare, lit from below by the whitecaps of the open ocean.
My dad didn’t look afraid, his tanned, firm, piano player hands casually on the tiller, looking seaward with a heart of pure courage.
I relaxed, and trailed my fingers in the dark, warm water of the bay, and let the reflections of the sun dapple into my eyelids. The creaking of the lines, the sounds of the sail, the rigging – my day was full of light and joy.
I listened to the day, the other
boats on the water, the endless background tone of the big city rumbling in the background. I smiled at the soft creak of the lines and the gurgle and hiss of the water sliding past on the other side of the hull by my hip.
Suddenly, my hair blew into my eyes as a strong blast of wind screamed across the low sands from the ocean. The sails snapped taut with a crack and a groaning creak from the mast filled the air as the boat hauled over. Before I could think or move, a wave slopped deeply over the side, flowing across my shoulders and across my chest, to soak and slosh across the cockpit, following almost immediately by another.
I heard a mighty splash behind me, and when I looked – my dad was gone. The tiller, swinging free in the waves, mocked me with the unreality of the situation.
My dad was gone!
I twisted and struggled through the water in the bottom of the boat. I spun around to look across the white-capped waves of the bay. The sun was still shining, but I could tell it wouldn’t be for long.
As the sky darkened, a rushing roar filled my ears as the wind howled over the dunes towards us, and boiled across the water, frothing it completely white, little more than a cloud of hurling mist across waves turned gun metal grey by the swiftly fading light.
I looked around frantically, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I realized that someday, his face would fade like a memory, and the sudden crushing sadness in my heart wrenched me into a pit of despair, ignoring everything but my last memory of my dad.
The little boat, once light and free, now sodden and slow, hauled over further and further, as if it was cringing away from the angry seething roar of the mounting wind.
I cried soundlessly, tears of rage and fear as the little boat, sails flapping and snapping slowly slid sideways until the waves poured in.
The sudden splash of water woke me up, invigorated me, and I kicked free of the foundering boat, lunging and reaching for a float, but ended up with water up my nose as it skittered by my outstretched fingertips. For a few brief, frantic moments, it danced right out of reach on the foam. Then a wave washed completely over me and my screams were suddenly strangled.
Pushed by a sudden current, I tumbled and slid down through wan beams cast by the fading sunlight above. I tried to swim for the surface, my lungs burning, but it was pointless. Helplessly, I plummeted down, through water growing colder and colder, into the crushing black depths of the deep silence below.
08242614@09:45 Gene Mitchell
“They look like they’re dreaming,” I said softly, looking over at Pauli and Dak.
“They sure do, Gene,” he replied softly. “It’s looks like they’re getting some good rest. Are you sure they’re going to be okay, Major?”
The orderlies were hovering around in the background, as the Major studied the screen on his handset.
“Captain, I’d really like to keep them another 48 hours for observation, but they are stable, sir.”
I frowned a bit, thinking about poor Shorty and Yak. They looked pretty beat up, that’s for sure. Shorty was jerking and kicking her legs slowly, moving her head side to side.
I looked over at Dak, a concerned look softening his craggy features. “If they’re stable, let’s wake them up and get them up out of here. They’ve slept long enough, mister.”
“Aye, Captain,” he replied, and nodded at the orderlies. One at a time, they connected pressure lines to the tank, and extracted the fluid, leaving Shorty and Yak, drifting in the tanks, dimly visible through the droplets drifting downwards on the inner surface of the glass.
Once they had the tanks empty, they cracked the seal on the upper hatches, and carefully pulled Shorty out, lowering her gently to a gurney. She was still dreaming, kicking slowly, a worried frown on her pert face that softened as they hit her with a hype, the whirring snick sharp in the silent chamber.
“Shorty?” Pauli asked, leaning in past me.
“What… uh…” she stammered, her voice husky and strange. “My head feels like it’s full of fuzz.”
“Here, Shorty,” the captain said softly, handing her his cup. “Take a sip of that. It has what you need my dear.”
She took a sip, and blinked up at us through blood-red eyes, trying to focus. “Thanks Captain… you know,” she grumbled, pausing for another sip, “I have a name, sir.”
Dak was unflappable, and replied with a smirk. “I do too, Jane, but you call me Captain, so…” he paused for a toothy grin, “How are you feeling?”
She coughed a bit, wincing. “Pretty good sir, ready to go I think. Is Yak…” she trailed off, looking around for him.
“He’s right behind you dear; they’re bringing him to as well.”
“I’m not asleep, Captain,” Yak grumbled. “I’m never asleep.”
“That’s what they all say, Yak,” I replied with a smile at the captain, who flashed me an eyebrow, as if daring me to finish that sentence. I wasn’t prepared to stick my neck out on that subject, and finished with a smile.
“How are you feeling, Yak?” Pauli asked softly, clearly concerned.
“I’m squared away, Pauli,” he replied good-naturedly. His eyes were also completely blood red, and his dark features were accentuated by even darker bruises. “My head feels like a bomb casing, though…”
He looked around. “Jane?”
“Back here, Yak,” she replied softly.
“You doing okay?”
“No, I died. So did you. We’re cursed with these mooks for all eternity, it looks like.”
“Ugh,” he replied through a grin.
“You both did one hell of a job down there,” Captain Smith said softly, as serious as I’ve ever seen him. “It was about as close as it could have been, you know.”
“Ooh rah, sir,” Yak replied with a wince, shutting his eyes and leaning back into the cushions. An orderly hit him with another hype that softened his frown a bit.
“Nothing to it, Captain,” Shorty replied casually, with a wave of her hand. “How bad is it, sir? Can I walk?”
Dak flashed a look at the major, who nodded. “You sure can, Shorty. You’re both going to be pretty tender though, but they’re going to hit you with some pretty good meds here to take the edge off of the worst of it.”
“Miss Short,” Major Grimes spoke up, “you had a spiral fracture of the upper femur that we have immobilized with titanium epoxy. Your leg is as good as new, though you both suffered some considerable muscle damage, spraining and straining, and will have vision issues for a while from the petechial hemorrhaging in your eyes. This may present symptoms of migraine, which are of course compounded by the concussion you both had. We don’t think you have subdural hematomas—”
“What’s that, Major?” Yak asked, alarmed.
“It’s essentially a bruise inside the skull, son,” he replied quietly. “That is one of the biggest fears we have with concussions like these, but luckily we were able to begin treatment pretty quickly, and managed the complications well.”
Yak groaned. “Is that why my head feels like it is being torn apart by runaway farm machinery? I don’t ever think I’ve ever been in this much pain,” His voice sounded strangely hollow.
Major Grimes chuckled. “Yes, son, and it’s not going to get much better for a while, I’m afraid. You’re both going to be sore for a good long while. The best we can really do at this point is make you comfortable. Captain, what sort of medical facilities do you have aboard your vessel?”
“We have a pretty standard class three bay, Major, but we’re pretty well stocked.”
“Well, we’re going to send a hype regimen for both of them, and a medico file for your bay to help manage their care.”
Dak nodded smartly. “Pauli, can you open up a port for that transfer?”
“Ready now, Captain,” he replied, swiping through his wrist screen.
“Very well… is there anything else we need to worry about, Major?”
“Captain, with these sorts of injuries, we’re mostly concerned that they get rest – and I
mean significant rest, lots of fluids, ample nutrition, and then some more rest. They really need to stay out of action for a while.”
Dak looked at me with a slightly raised eyebrow, to match my scowl. “Well, we can sure try, right Yak?”
Yak’s face was grim. He knew as well as any of us that this was far from over.
“He’ll be fine, Captain,” Shorty quipped “Let’s get to work here. We’re both going to die of boredom just sitting around.”
That was good for a laugh, as we stood back to give them room to get up. Shorty was first. Though she moved gingerly, she was clearly determined to not show any weakness.
Her poor leg… even with a layer of new, translucent skin growing over her outer thigh and hip, it looked raw and tender.
“You okay Jane?” Captain Smith asked in a concerned tone, watching her face as she frowned.
“Yeah… this is…” she looked down and shuddered involuntarily as he reached out. She took his hand gracefully, and slowly stretched out her leg. “It feels a lot better, sir. I’ll be fine.”
“You look great, Shorty,” I said as lightly as I could.. “You’ll be up to speed in no time.”
“Thanks Gene. We’ll see.” Clearly she wasn’t too convinced.
Yak groaned, as he pulled himself up by a grabber. “What the heck did we do down there, Jane?”
“You did the best you could, son,” Dak replied softly, watching him closely. “Ready?”
“Ooh rah, Captain. Let’s move out,” he replied softly, in a voice that hardly cracked.
08242614@10:21 Shaun Onebull
“It’s good to have you back, Yak,” Pauli said softly, watching with a slight smirk as I sat gingerly at my station and cinched down the crash bars with a wince.
“Thanks Pauli,” I hissed. My skin itched all over, and my muscles just hurt, everywhere. It was almost as bad as boot. All I needed was Gunny screaming spit into my eyes and maybe some sand to scour my inner thighs, and I’d be seventeen again.
“You look pretty miserable, Yak,” Pauli stated flatly, with a more concerned look.