Rocket’s Red Glare

by David Hardy

  “I told Dave it would be foolish to let you go alone. Slurrngt or no Slurrngt. Dave agreed.”

  “I’m doing just fine without a co-pilot.”

  “Co-pilot? Right. I can’t even fly a model airplane. Count me as an observer only.”

  “Since when does Charles Esterlan need a chaperone?”

  “Since not even we – Dave, myself, and the other British officers assigned to this project – are quite sure what Slurrngt has up his six-legged sleeve. We’ve been trusting him up to this point, regarding the expected outcome of your journey. We’ve also trusted him when he’s told us that it’s got to be a human ship, with an American at the controls.”

  “And the cargo? Any guesses on that?”

  “Nope. It was the single toughest piece of information to obtain, and we failed. Your computer is programmed to report the mass as technical parts for a reaction drive of Earth manufacture, though I completely doubt the accuracy of that statement.”

  “Me, too,” Charlie said. “Especially since the flight plan calls for evacuating the entire cargo bay almost immediately upon arrival at the final gate, then going back through again. But this doesn’t account for a queue, which I’ve experienced at every gate so far. Am I just supposed to wait around in line while the whatever-it-is in the cargo bay does whatever it’s supposed to do on the end of this journey? I mean, what if it’s a bomb of some kind?”

  “A bomb?” Sue said, walking out of the cabin.

  “I’m pretty sure it won’t be the interstellar equivalent of a whoopee cushion.”

  “That seems drastic, for Slurrngt’s people. Like hitting your opponent with a baseball bat during a chess match. Too blunt! There’s more than one way to hurt an opponent. The direct way, and the indirect way. Seems to me Slurrngt has stressed that this is going to be extremely indirect. Almost to an improbable degree.”

  “We could unlock the cargo hold and find out for sure.”

  “Do you know what a bomb looks like, just by staring at it?”

  “I spent enough time around rockets, missiles, bullets, and bombs during my carrier years to believe I will know a bomb when I see it. Even one built by alien hands.”

  “And if it is a bomb, what then? We just retrace our steps to the depot, try to find Slurrngt – which I am pretty sure we can’t, because he’s very probably already left – and tell him you’ve had second thoughts about the agreement? ‘Thanks, but no thanks?’ I said so before: once the window on this opportunity is shut, there might not be any others. Not for the United States. Like it or not, America can’t break through without some kind of sponsorship on this side of the gate. Like it or not, Slurrngt and his guild are the closest – no, the only – candidates to have stepped forward. Do you have the luxury of looking a gift horse in the mouth?”

  “I just have this little toothache kind of feeling, that I am being used.”

  “No shit you’re being used!” Sue said, almost laughing. “That’s what self-interested parties do. You give him what he wants, he gives you what you want. That’s what we Brits sometimes call civilization, dear Mister Esterlan. Besides, what have you got to lose? Do you want to spend the rest of your life working sanitation details at Galactic Aggregation depots?”

  “No.”

  “Then get some sleep. I’ll see you when you’re up again, and ready to put the ship through the gate.”

  Charlie stared at her for a moment, then nodded his chin to his chest several times.

  “Right, right. Thanks for keeping an eye on things. Though I do have to tell you, the computer almost makes me superfluous. I don’t think you’ll have to touch or change anything.”

  “Good. I’ve been looking forward to the peace and quiet.”

  ○●○

  Charlie’s sleep was filled again with visions of a wasted Earth. Only this time, instead of being destroyed where they stood, humans were carted off like cattle. Millions upon millions of men, women, and children, crammed into filthy, disgusting, giant-sized shipping containers. Like conexes, only fifty meters to a side, and five hundred meters long. All slung beneath the bellies of gargantuan, alien lifting ships. Each ship carrying tens of containers to orbit. Where they eventually vanished through the gate. Taking every soul aboard to an unknown fate.

  Charlie was so disturbed, he jerked out of the cabin’s small bunk, and almost hit his head on the deck.

  It took him a few minutes of splashing his face in the cabin’s little lavatory sink to compose himself.

  Emerging through the cabin door, Charlie immediately sensed that things had changed. A glance out the bubble-shaped forward observation window showed a substantial line of ships all waiting to pass through the yawning gate. Beyond the gate, a beautifully ringed gas giant planet could be seen in the far distance. Like the planet Jupiter, but bigger, with slightly different colors.

  “Where are we?” Charlie asked soberly.

  “Just one gate left to go,” Sue reported, sitting in the pilot’s chair. The space immediately in front of her showed a digital version of the card game solitaire.

  “How did we make two more gates?” he asked, moving quickly to stand beside her.

  “Astrobee said the last two gates had slots open up, and asked if we should move in to take them. I told Astrobee yes. And the ship complied. You were right, this computer really does almost make the pilot superfluous. Back home it would take many people to operate a spacecraft this size, much less fly it properly. Astrobee has been handling everything beautifully.”

  “One gate left... Anything unusual worth noting? Anything at all?”

  “Not that the computer has noticed. Though the queue at this new gate seems to be the longest of all. Dozens of ships all waiting their turn. I guess the gate can’t run continuously? It takes awhile to recharge after each use. Or something? The longer the total distance in light-years, the more the wait before reactivation can occur. I’m not the world’s greatest xenotech expert, so I can’t explain specifics. I’ve been asking Astrobee most of these questions, and Astrobee seems to know most of the answers.”

  “The gate in lunar orbit operated that way, yes,” Charlie said. “The longer the distance being crossed, or the more mass being put through – in the form of multiple ships, or one great big ship – the longer it took for the gate to reset for the next run. We still don’t grasp the nature of the power source. Some physics experts speculate that the gates themselves are merely physical ‘shadows’ left in our dimension, by the actual super-dimensional architecture which allows normal matter to cross light-years instantaneously. That the actual energy comes unlimited from this super-dimensional plane of reality.”

  “However it works, we’ve got one to go, and then we get to see what the cargo is all about.”

  Charlie swallowed and stared at the ringed planet around which this latest gate orbited.

  “Nervous?” Sue said, erasing her card game, then stepping up out of the pilot’s chair, and waving her hand for Charlie to take a seat.

  “Yes,” he admitted. “Somehow I thought we’d run into more friction by now. When things go this smoothly, I get nervous.”

  As if on cue, several of the holograms surrounding the pilot’s chair began to blink yellow. Followed by a pleasantly female voice which announced, “Message received from inbound spacecraft, identifying as security flotilla on vector six four zero point zero two. Translation commencing, ‘EARTH SPACECRAFT OF UNDETERMINED CONFIGURATION, YOU ARE IN VIOLATION OF GALACTIC AGGREGATION CODE ZERO NINE ZERO MARK EIGHT SEVEN MARK THREE THREE TWO. WE ARE MATCHING COURSE AND SPEED, SO AS TO TAKE YOU INTO CUSTODY. DO NOT RESIST. REPEAT, YOU ARE IN VIOLATION OF GALACTIC AGGREGATION CODE—”

  Charlie practically threw himself into the pilot’s chair, causing the holograms to temporarily blur and distort.

  “We need somewhere you can sit down,” he muttered.

  As if on cue, a second chair emerged from the deck directly to Charlie’s right and unfolded itself.

  “Additional c
rewmate, please buckle in,” said the pleasantly female voice.

  Sue didn’t have to be told twice. She was strapped in within seconds, while Charlie swung a manual override control board into place over his knees and began taking the ship out of its computer-determined trajectory. Even with the omni-gee motors to compensate, Charlie and Sue were both pulled hard against their straps by the change in direction, as well as velocity.

  “Where are we going?” Sue said, almost having to shout over the noise of the ship’s main thruster while it fired.

  “The only place we can go,” Charlie said to her, never taking his eyes off the holograms directly in front of him or the view out the bubble beyond that. They were zooming up the backside of the various craft still waiting in line to access the gate. Behind them, the flotilla approached at maximum thrust. The strain on those spaceframes, omni-gee motors be damned, must have been ferocious. Whichever species was crewing the flotilla, they could probably stand a lot more than ten gees. Which was considered extremely dangerous for most humans.

  “We don’t even know if the gate will activate,” Sue said, “much less shunt us to the correct destination!”

  “Where’s that British spirit of derring-do now, Ms. Glass?” Charlie said, using his fingers to dial the ship’s thruster up to max-plus output. Behind them, they could hear the dull roar of the unit, chewing through reaction mass at a horrendous rate.

  “Threat detected, threat detected, threat detected,” chimed Astrobee, and Charlie’s virtual display – showing the immediate space around the ship for many hundreds of kilometers – lit up with red arrowheads which began tracing sapphire lines aimed at the blue starburst in the display’s center.

  “Christ,” Charlie spat. It had been a long time since fighter weapons training – a skill he’d never imagined he would need upon going to space. But he knew incoming missiles when he saw them. The arrowheads appeared to be closing rapidly. Each missile like a miniature spacecraft, and pulling an insane amount of gees in an attempt to overtake Charlie’s ship.

  Three. Four. Five.

  Charlie stopped counting at five, and wondered what had happened to being taken into custody?

  “Astrobee, time to threat impact?”

  A countdown clock appeared inside the hologram.

  “Now give me time to gate entry.”

  A second countdown clock appeared.

  The latter number was larger than the former.

  “Countermeasures,” Charlie muttered, wishing he could dump foil chaff or flares. Anything which might divert the attention of those missiles. He even considered voiding the cargo bay. Just to give the warheads a second, substantial target on which to impact. But he resisted the urge and turned his attention to the very real problem of hitting a gate at max-plus, entirely outside of the established traffic pattern.

  “Astrobee,” he said. “Make that gate understand that we are coming in hot. I don’t care who is up next, we’ve got to have priority.”

  “Protocol violation at levels two, five, and eleven—”

  “To hell with the rules!” Charlie shouted. “There’s got to be some kind of emergency code you can transmit. A way to quick-configure the gate to our desired destination, and triggering at close contact. Can you do it?”

  “Understand that there is a severe monetary penalty for unauthorized out-of-pattern commandeering of gate facilities—”

  “I understand, just goddamned do it, all right? Execute, Astrobee. Execute.”

  “The security warheads are almost on us,” Sue shouted, pointing a finger at the red arrowheads which had formed a tight pack directly on the ship’s tail.

  “Nukes,” Charlie said under his breath. Of course they would be. What else was there in space? Proximity detonated, he reckoned. They wouldn’t have to get close to wreck the ship. It all depended on how powerful each of the warheads was.

  “We’re not going to make it,” Sue groaned, her fists clamped over the straps holding down both shoulders.

  “We might just,” Charlie shouted back.

  “There’s not enough time,” she retorted.

  “We might—”

  Then the concussions hit. Boom. Boom. Boom. Like huge jackhammers, punishing the hull.

  Twirling orange alarm lights suddenly lit up the entire space, while the holograms flickered, smeared, steadied for an instant, then smeared again.

  Sue and Charlie both screamed in unison, while the spaceframe around them complained of horrific torsion.

  Then, just as suddenly, space itself changed. Like a camera bulb clicking on, then off, and leaving a negative image on a man’s retina.

  When reality reasserted itself, the entire compartment was still flooded by the swirling orange light from the emergency lamps. But the additional four explosions – which Charlie had been certain would tear the ship completely apart – never came.

  Astrobee, digitally stuttering like a broken record, was attempting to rattle off a list of red-lined equipment. Including the ship’s main thruster, which appeared to have suffered the brunt of the damage from the warhead blasts. There was no engine noise blaring against their ear drums now. Rather, just the electronic bwooping of the damage klaxon repeated over and over again from speakers in the ceiling.

  “Atmosphere integrity?” Sue said weakly, her eyes clamped shut as she continued to cling to the straps of her chair.

  “If we’d lost our air, we’d know it by now. Stupid, that we didn’t get into suits in time. We’d probably still better get into suits. There are lockers for them in the wall behind us.”

  “The other missiles—”

  “Are back where we left them. In the other system. The three closest to us went off. But then we hit the gate, and the gate event was instantaneous. The missiles went through the empty space left in the wake of the gate event. Hitting nothing. Man, I have never experienced a gate event quite like that. Looked and felt weird. Did you sense the same thing?”

  “Yes,” Sue said. “And I feel like I want to barf because of it.”

  “That’s not because of the gate. It’s the fact that we lost the omni-gee motors. This is what zero gravity feels like. Many people don’t react to it very well. I’m only used to it because I was trained to get used to it. Though it does feel weird, after such a long time. Just close your eyes and don’t move your head.”

  “I’m not,” Sue said.

  “Good. Rapid head movement will make it worse. Stay calm.”

  “I am, damn you.”

  “Okay, good. I wonder if we made it where Slurrngt intended for us to go. Astrobee, cancel all damage reports. Can you tell me, based on numeric signature, if we arrived at the gate originally programmed into your full flight plan?”

  A few seconds passed, then the computer warbled, “Af-f-f-firmative.”

  “I have a hunch that’s the last gate crossing this ship will ever make, without being towed. Now we’re headed off into space at a mad clip, and I don’t know if I can slow us down on reaction control thrusters alone. Astrobee, how much of forward reaction control capacity have we retained?”

  “Es-s-s-s-timated forty-nine percent.”

  “Begin a twenty-five percent burn on forward reaction control, until further notice. Ignore fuel consumption thresholds. Divert whatever fuel is left from the main reaction tanks, if you have to.”

  Both Charlie and Sue suddenly slumped forward in their seats.

  “We’re slowing down,” Sue said.

  “That’s the idea.”

  “Somehow, that feels better.”

  “From no gravity at all, to a percentage of gee in one direction. We’ll be like this for awhile. Enjoy it while you’ve got it. Meanwhile I hope our cargo didn’t get too badly beaten up. If I can coax the bay doors open, we can still launch – for whatever good it does us. That way when the security flotilla eventually comes through... ”

  “But you said they’re stuck on the other side?”

  “Temporarily. Until the gate resets. Th
en I am certain those security ships will be right on top of us. In our present condition, we’re not capable of doing much more than running up a white flag.”

  “Not that they’d pay attention,” Sue said. “Shoot first, ask questions later.”

  “Indeed. Well, here goes nothing. Astrobee, open the main cargo bay. If the motors are jammed, use the explosive bolts to blow the doors off at the latches and hinges.”

  A few seconds passed, then there were a few small thumps.

  “C-c-c-cargo bay doors ejected. Do you wish to expel the contents of the cargo bay proper?”

  “Yes, please.”

  That time, there was no noise.

  Except the sound of Sue gasping.

  “You okay?” Charlie said, still staring at his instrument board.

  “My God,” Sue breathed. “Look outside. Look!”

  There wasn’t much to see. They appeared to be drifting at high speed, parallel to the orbital plane of a significant rock and dust ring which surrounded this particular star out to an untold distance. Any closer to the ring, and the ship would be getting meteorite-sized holes in the forward bubble. But at this distance, things seemed relatively safe. Except for the two large masses that appeared to moving retrograde to ring rotation, and were actually swimming up toward the crippled human spacecraft.

  “What are they?” Sue whispered.

  “I have no idea,” Charlie said, transfixed by the sight. “But at this distance, I’d say they’re hundreds of meters in diameter. Each. Or larger. Look at them go. I don’t see any thrusters. Nor the flare of reaction mass. They’re just... gliding through space.”

  A blocky shape suddenly drifted into view. It was the contents of the cargo bay, floating ahead of the ship while the ship continued to brake on reaction control thrust. Over the course of many minutes, Charlie and Sue silently watched as the two large shapes, almost pure black in color, moved with organic smoothness. When they reached and inspected the cargo pod, the two shapes deployed appendages which easily enveloped and then unceremoniously ripped open the pod proper.