by PP Corcoran
“So you would rate any threat to ourselves from the planets as…?” asked Ruth.
“In our current location I would have to say negligible, Captain.”
“Thank you, XO. Engineering?”
“A level one diagnostic shows no damage to either the ship or more importantly the Gravity Drive. The momentary dizziness we experienced was due to the time spent in fold space. No one has ever spent that long in transit before and the Chief Engineer...”
Ruth looked down the table to Lt. Cmdr. George Lee. He had studied under Dr Jeff Moore, and to say that Moore had been slightly upset when Lee was collared for Chimera would be an understatement. Moore saw Lee as a protégé that the Navy had stolen from him. “... Has assured me that if we can keep the folds to under five thousand light years each in the future, then the engines shouldn’t even notice it.”
Now this was news. The rating for the engine was folds of only fifty to sixty light years. Ruth addressed Lee directly. “George, anything you want to tell me?”
“Captain, while running our drive checks I reviewed its performance in detail. I was able to identify the elements of a theory that I had been working on with Dr Moore before leaving Haslett Research Station. Our prolonged unplanned journey has given me empirical data to collaborate the theory and I believe that with a few alterations, with your permission of course,” Lee gave Ruth a lopsided grin, “I could extend the range of each fold to a comfortable and more importantly, repeatable five thousand light years.”
Ruth thought for a second. “How long to make the alterations and what would be the downtime on the drive?”
Without hesitation Lee replied, “The software alterations can be completed offline then uploaded into the engineering mainframe with no disruption. The physical engineering alterations will take a maximum of thirty-six hours, with the drive offline for about seven of those hours.”
Seven hours with no means of getting out of here in a hurry if needs be. That’s a big gamble, thought Ruth. Hopkins did not look convinced. That was enough for Ruth.
“Okay, prepare the software changes but do not install them. Same for the physical changes but do not install. Keep the XO up to speed on your progress. When you are ready to go, we will reassess at that time.”
Lee looked slightly crestfallen. “Aye aye, ma’am.”
Hopkins looked happier. The idea of being dead in the water for seven hours did not appeal to him either.
“Anything else, XO?”
“Yes, ma’am, just one more thing.” At this, Alice Balerno, the Tactical officer, and Lt. Ben Leopold, the Comms officer, both seemed to sit a bit straighter.
Hopkins continued. “During our evaluation of the inhabitants of the planets, we covered their electromagnetic emissions.” Hopkins paused. “Lt. Leopold, if you please.”
Leopold switched on the holo cube in the centre of the table. A bi-ped, possibly 168 centimetres tall, wearing a tan and brown uniform with some emblems at the waist, a small circular mouth with what appeared to be three slits either side of where a nose should be and two eyes set widely apart above the slits. There did not seem to be any ears, or for that matter any hair apparent on the body.
“Captain,” said Hopkins with a flourish. “May I introduce the sentient species of Messier 54?”
Ruth stared at the image for a few seconds before saying, “Ronald, your flair for the dramatic is never ending”
“But Captain,” said the XO, “I saved the best for last. May I draw your attention to the arms?”
Ruth looked once more at the image: two arms; where the elbow should be there was a joint but it somehow didn’t look quite right. Ah, double-jointed: the elbow could bend in two different directions. A shorter forearm and a hand with, I’ll be damned. Ruth looked towards her XO and then at Egnorov.
Vladimir Egnorov matched her gaze and said simply, “When do I leave?”
#
Upper Atmosphere Planet B - Messier 54 Cluster - 50,000 LY from Earth
Maj. Egnorov glanced around the Tanto covert insertion shuttle and then at the head up display projected into his left eye by the Wraith Combat Suit.
Issued to Force Recon Marines, the Wraith Combat Suit was composed of ultra-strong shock-absorbing material. Constructed from inorganic nanostructures – five times stronger than steel – the Wraith Combat Suit, commonly simply called ‘Wraith’, remained highly elastic and provided a complete range of movement for the wearer. The assimilated exoskeleton provided immense strength through the servomotors that utilized high-gauss permanent magnets and step-down gearing to provide high torque, responsive movement in a small package. The combat suit was, therefore, unrestrictive to the wearer, allowing them to access even small surface areas. Power, provided by miniature solid oxide fuel cells, was easy to replace in the field and would sustain the suit at maximum power output for eight hours or with normal use, thirty-six. The suit was capable of use in a vacuum for short time periods – enough time for a planetary assault, for instance.
One of the key elements of the suit, for any Force Recon Marine, was its ability to communicate with not only other suits but also with ships in orbit. Comms was established by either suit to suit/ship radio or more covertly by use of whisker laser – a point-to-point communications system which could not be intercepted unless one happened to stray into the path of the laser –– deemed a highly unlikely scenario.
An equally vital element of the suit was the Chameleon unit, a stealth system integral to each suit. It was a compact version of that used by the Navy on its ships. Chameleon used optics throughout the Wraith Combat Suit, effectively projecting whatever was 180 degrees behind the suit to 180 degrees in front. If the enemy looked at the wearer, they effectively saw right through them, as if the wearer was not there; indistinguishable to the naked eye and undetectable to any known electro-optical systems. The Force Recon Marine became, essentially, invisible.
Egnorov’s Wraith was counting down the altitude of both him and the shuttles as they descended through the atmosphere of Planet B. Egnorov and six other marines similarly suited in Wraiths were providing close protection for the ten Navy types commanded by the Vasco De Gamma’s XO, Cmdr. Hopkins. The mission was to collect as much material from soil, plant and animal samples as possible without discovery by the ‘Baldies’. That made Egnorov chuckle. Some midshipman had christened the sentient species on Planet A and the colonisers of Planet B the irreverent nickname, but it had stuck.
Egnorov and Hopkins had been planning this mission for three weeks, as the Vasco De Gamma ship crept slowly in system, continually checking for the tiniest indication of detection as it closed on Planet B. It became obvious that not only were the Baldies on the planet, but mining operations were also in progress within the asteroid belt. Traffic had been observed, a steady flow to what appeared to be orbital facilities around Planet A. This same traffic provided a navigational headache to Lt. Winters, but the young navigator had proven his worth, spending endless hours at the helm. Eventually, caught fast asleep in his chair on the bridge, Capt. Witsell ordered him to his bed, along with strict instructions not to return for at least forty-eight hours.
The plan Egnorov and Hopkins devised was a variation of one that the marine and Capt. Witsell had deliberated long before leaving Charon Base.
Adm. Vadis spoke of the probable requisite for surface reconnaissance at his initial briefing on Operation Chimera, so while Witsell prepared her ship and crew for their mission Egnorov and his marines investigated potential scenarios that would warrant their own surface mission and what their parameters would be.
When the captain had called him to her quarters and briefed him on their current predicament on arrival in Messier 54, Egnorov had been able to warn his small planning section to begin prepping for a mission. By the time Cmdr. Hopkins briefed the captain, Egnorov knew he was going to command the first marines to visit a planet controlled by an alien species.
When he filled Hopkins in on this after the captain�
��s brief, Hopkins understood the smile on Egnorov’s face.
The jolting of the shuttle brought Egnorov back to the present. The pilot was bringing the shuttle in on an oblique angle, mimicking the trajectory of a meteorite. Although the shuttle was the stealthiest yet produced, Egnorov saw no reason to take unnecessary risks. He and Hopkins had chosen a landing site far from any detected population centres.
The planet sunrise dictated the night landing – land one hour after dark and leave one hour before sunrise. A quick in and out mission. His instructors at Marine Force Recon would be proud.
Egnorov relished in happy memories of those long tiring days and nights at Recon School – maybe happy was not the right word. The highest praise Egnorov had heard out of the mouths of those marine gunnery sergeants was “Satisfactory, Egnorov.” By the end of the course of 160 initial candidates, only Egnorov and two others qualified as Marine Force Recon. As Egnorov graduated, his gunny instructor shook his hand and said “Satisfactory, Egnorov.” His instructor paused and with a hint of a smile tagged his comment with, “Sir.”
Egnorov reminisced, back to his arrival to Titan Base, shortly after his graduation, when he took up his post at Titan Base as Team Commander as a lieutenant.
He recalled his arrival interview with the commanding officer as... brief. The CO was a long service naval admiral who had a reputation of running a tight ship; he did not suffer fools gladly. Titan Base was the front line where they waged the fight against asteroid belt piracy. Marine Force Recon teams deployed from Titan to rocks thought likely to harbour pirates. They carried out surface reconnaissance in non-existent gravity and hard vacuum. Only the best were sent to Titan Base, which was why the ‘satisfactory’ Egnorov was slightly perturbed at his posting there. He recollected the conversation.
“Lieutenant Egnorov,” the Admiral had said.
“Yes, sir,” a nervous Egnorov had replied.
“I see here that your gunny instructor was Gunny Bates.”
“That’s correct, sir.”
The Admiral had continued. “I’ve known Gunny Bates for more years than I or he would care to remember. As a young ensign, I carried out a boarding action with him on a pirate ship out past Ceres. Messy business. The pirates kidnapped the crew and passengers from a cruise ship and murdered most of those not worth ransoming. They knew it was the gallows for them if they were captured, so they fought like animals.” The Admiral let out a short snort. “My pistol ran out of charge eventually. I was left facing two of them with the civilians behind me. Son, if anyone ever tells you that your life flashes in front of you at times like that, it’s a lie. I was too busy being scared. The only thing I had to hand was my survival knife… and survive I did. The pirates never reached the gallows. The Navy in their wisdom decided to give me a medal.”
Egnorov stood a bit straighter as he noticed for the first time a small blue and white ribbon on the Admiral’s chest. The Terran Medal of Honour. The highest award a military man could receive, awarded only by recommendation of the entire Joint Chiefs and the consent of the Senate.
“Son, I managed to sneak a peek at the after-action report years later written by Gunny Bates. Gunny rated my performance: ‘Satisfactory. This officer has potential’. Beside it was a hand-written note from the then chairman of the Joint Chiefs. It read: ‘Recommended for the TMH on Gunny’s say so’. Now if the Joint Chiefs think that a satisfactory rating from a mere gunnery sergeant is something to stand up and listen to, then who am I to disagree? If Gunny said you were ‘satisfactory’, then I’m damned glad to have you. So welcome aboard!”
With that, the Admiral stood up, shook Egnorov’s hand and escorted him to the door. “Now get out. I’ve got work to do.” So started Egnorov’s career with Recon.
Whoa! Egnorov screamed back to the present, kept in his seat by the restraining ties locked onto his suit as the shuttle made another wild manoeuvre.
“Thirty seconds,” called the pilot. Egnorov did a brief team check via his suit’s on board computer. Bio readings of his marines were nominal, damn; he looked again at Gunny Alison Chew’s readings. If he did not know any better, he would swear that she was asleep. Are all gunnies the same? He thought with a shake of his head that made the helmet of his Wraith move slightly.
“Touchdown. Doors opening.” Egnorov and his marines were out in a heartbeat and moving off to a distance of three hundred metres in every direction to form a secure perimeter around the Tanto. The Navy personnel moved off next and formed a second perimeter close to the Tanto, ready to re-embark at the first sign of trouble. Egnorov stood by the Tanto’s boarding hatch. Using the Wraith’s link to his Marines quickly, he efficiently completed a threat assessment. None of his marines detected any danger and it looked like they were down unnoticed.
Egnorov enabled his whisker link to the Vasco De Gamma. “Team down and undetected as far as I can tell, Captain.”
In geosynchronous orbit, Ruth Witsell sat on the edge of her chair on the bridge and let out a breath that she didn’t know that she had been holding. “Very well, Major. If you are content that the area is secure, then please inform the XO to begin his survey.”
“Understood. Egnorov out.” Egnorov turned to Hopkins, who was kneeling in the centre of the inner perimeter, and said, “Captain says we have a green light, Ronald.”
Hopkins nodded in understanding. “Okay, people. Let’s get started. Remember, no movement outside the marine perimeter without my express permission. And stay in your pairs.” With that, man’s first exploration of an alien occupied world began.
#
“So,” began Ruth, looking across the table of the Vasco de Gama’s Briefing Room at Maj. Egnorov and Cmdr. Hopkins, “you are sure of your results?”
“I don’t think there is any room for error, ma’am,” Hopkins replied confidently. “The samples we recovered have been tested thoroughly. There is no doubt that the Saiph have visited this system. All the samples recovered leave me in no doubt that the indigenous species are products of the Saiph DNA manipulation.”
Ruth sat still for a moment, considering her options. “Well... now we have a decision. Do we make our way back to Earth with our findings? Or do we spend more time in this system gathering as much information on the Baldies as we can before returning home? Thoughts gentlemen.”
There was silence for a few seconds before Egnorov said, “I’m a Force Recon Marine and it’s my job to gather as much intelligence on a target as possible……” Egnorov paused. “Despite this, our discovery here – another spacefaring species – Earth needs to know about this ASAP.”
Ruth turned to look at Ronald. “Ronald?”
“Ma’am, the major is correct. We need to get this ship and the information home. Let the Admiralty get a proper first contact expedition set up and return here. We completed exactly what we set out to do – albeit,” Hopkins grinned, “a bit beyond the intended target system.”
Ruth and Egnorov both let out a short laugh.
“Ronald, your irony never ceases to amaze me. Very well, Ronald. Get together with the chief engineer and let’s get started on our way home.”
CHAPTER NINE
Life No More
TDF Jacques Cartier - Delta Pavonis - 19.92 LY from Earth
Capt. Christos Papadomas sat alone in the briefing room of the TDF Jacques Cartier. He stared at the image of Planet III, spinning slowly in the holo cube. Dark clouds completely covered the planet, broken only by the occasional flash of lightning in the upper atmosphere. It seemed to promise so much, but the chance of life had been snuffed out by nature –– wiping the slate clean ready to start again.
He touched a control panel and a small net of flashing lights began to surround the planet. A still functioning satellite network. Another touch of the panel and the image zoomed in, passing through the clouds, down even further until it reached the level of the ocean, and then carried on until it reached the ocean floor.
There, on the ocean bed was a massive crat
er some six hundred kilometres across. A stream of data appeared on the right of the image: carbon dioxide (CO2), soluble in seawater, was present in very large quantities. It mostly reported the bicarbonate radical (−HCO3) stable at temperatures below fifty degrees Celsius – the normal sea surface temperature – but sea surface temperature could easily exceed this if or when an asteroid struck the ocean, inducing a large thermal shock. He understood in those circumstances very large quantities of CO2 would erupt from the ocean as a heavy gas, and the CO2 could quickly spread around the world in concentrations sufficient to suffocate air-breathing fauna and animals. Asteroid impacts with the ocean might not leave obvious signs, but these impacts had the potential to be far more devastating to life on a planet than impacts with land.
He pulled the view back, and with a flick of his fingers sent it flying through the atmosphere over the nearest land – over the ruins of cities lying on the coastal region, struck by tidal waves up to a mile high; the damage subsiding the further inland he viewed. Even though the physical damage lessened, the result was the same, he noted. Everything requiring oxygen to breathe was dead.
His geologists put the impact at less than twenty years ago. Only twenty years and he would’ve been looking at a living, breathing planet with a world civilization that had put artificial satellites into orbit. But no more. The best he could do for them was to ensure that at least some memory of them lived on. He shook himself out of his melancholy, touching a control. The image of his XO appeared where the dead planet had been. “Robert, could you round up Major Draper and join me in the Briefing Room at your earliest convenience?” It was a rhetorical question.
Robert Ranking guessed at the purpose of the meeting with his captain. “Would you like me to bring Dr Gunnerman?” Dr Rudolf Gunnerman was TDF Jacques Cartier’s xenobiologist and a history buff.