by PP Corcoran
Rebecca nodded her consent, and Olaf added the seven systems to the display. “Gamma Leporis, 29.25 light years away, the original destination for the Vasco De Gamma, and which we have not gone back to. Tau Eridani, 45.58 light years. 16 Cygniz, 70.5 light years. 23 Librae, 83.7 light years. Algol 3, 92.8 light years. Regulus 4, 77.5 light years and last, but not least, 9 Ceti, 66.5 light years.”
Olaf touched another control and a sphere ten light years in diameter appeared around Garunda. “This sphere indicates the distance that a Buzzard at maximum speed can travel in six months – the maximum time that we estimate ‘The Others’ had to react to the destruction of its ships in the first battle of Garunda. As you can see, none of the seven systems are within that sphere. Our conclusion is that the ships we engaged in the second battle of Garunda came from a naval base of some kind. Perhaps similar to the one we believe them to be constructing in 70 Ophiuchi.”
Olaf could see that he had the undivided attention of everyone in the room. “Using the information that the Persai have gathered from their surveillance platforms, we have ruled out Tau Eridani and 9 Ceti.” On the display, those two systems dimmed in response. “However the Persai platforms have shown artificial power generation in the remaining five systems.”
“Are you saying that ‘The Others’ originate in one of those five systems, Olaf?” asked Crothers.
“It would certainly fit the facts as we know them, Thomas. What also concerns me is the fact that the Joint Chiefs believe that the ships we faced in Garunda the second time were only what ‘The Others’ had to hand at the naval base at the time. And it took the combined strength of First and Second Fleets aided by the Persai to defeat them. If they were to arrive in the Sol system with the forces we believe them capable of, then the TDF wouldn’t have enough strength to even slow them down – never mind prevent them from decimating Earth.”
The silence Olaf’s last statement brought to the room was tangible. After a few awkward moments, Rebecca broke the silence. “I take it the Joint Chiefs have a recommendation, Olaf.” It was not really a question.
Olaf’s expression was one of resignation as he shook his lowered head before looking up into the eyes of his president. “Madam President. For most of my adult life, I was a military man. That doesn’t mean that I am a believer in a large military machine. But, to be honest with you, the only way that I can see of securing our own survival, and in turn that of the Commonwealth, is to continue, and if at all possible, speed up our current military build-up and that of our allies.”
Rebecca looked to Aaron Beckett. “Do we have a feeling for what the Garundans and the Persai would think if we went to a full war footing?”
Aaron thought for a moment before answering. “Well, the Persai have essentially been on a war footing ever since they arrived on Pars, and since we came on the scene they have gone into overdrive; their main problem is workforce. Years of enforced birth control has left them short of personnel. We can supply equipment to build their own shipyards and, as Gillian will no doubt back me up, they are freely supplying us with as much of their technology as we can deal with.”
Gillian was nodding her head in agreement. “The Persai are sharing everything they have developed with us. My teams are like kids on Christmas morning. I actually think that Jeff Moore is looking at emigrating to Pars if they would take him.” That got a laugh from everyone in the room.
Aaron went on. “The Garundans, on the other hand, are virtually the opposite of the Persai. They have more personnel than they know what to do with. The Naval Academy is pushing them through as quickly as they can, but the naval base in Garunda is just nearing completion and the shipyards will not be able to supply completed hulls for at least another six months.”
Crothers spoke up. “What if I freed up some space in my shipyards? I could probably complete one Nemesis class battleship every ninety days for them.”
“Every little would help, thanks,” said Aaron. “But by the look on Olaf’s face I think he would rather you concentrated on building hulls for use by the TDF.”
Olaf’s face reddened ever so slightly. “I hate to say that Aaron is right. But if the Joint Chiefs are right about the strength ‘The Others’ may be able to field, I’m going to need every ship I can get my hands on. Besides, we’ll need any spare yard space to carry out the retrofits of Persai weaponry on our existing ships.”
“So where does that leave us, Olaf?” asked Rebecca from her seat at the head of the table.
Olaf touched another control and an order of battle in the Holo Cube replaced the image of the star systems. “This is the Joint Chiefs’ preferred order of battle for the TDF. As you can see, the fleet has expanded to three times its current size. The Joint Chiefs envisage a force of eighteen BatFors equipped with the new Bismarck class battleships formed up in six fleets.”
Thomas Crothers let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of ships and men.”
Olaf turned to him. “We estimate a build and commissioning time of three years, at the end of which we should be in a position to carry out the next phase of the Joint Chiefs’ plan.” Olaf glanced in Rebecca’s direction. “With presidential approval of course.”
Why did Rebecca get the feeling that she was about to be railroaded into something? “And what sort of plan do the Joint Chiefs have up their sleeve this time, Olaf?”
“Madam President, our biggest problem is intelligence. We have been able, with Persai help, to establish where the home system of ‘The Others’ may be, but we have no idea how big an area they control. It may be just a couple of star systems or they may have a massive empire that we have just touched the edges of. We simply don’t know.”
Rebecca gave Olaf a look of frustration. “Get to the punchline, Olaf, if you please.”
Olaf brought the image of the five star systems that could be the home of ‘The Others’ up in the Holo Cube. Leaning his elbows on the table, he lent forward in his seat and pointed at the display. “The Joint Chiefs want to initially beef up Survey Command and then send these ships to these five systems to establish which one is the home of ‘The Others’. We’ll do it as stealthily as possible to avoid any chance of detection, but I feel that it’s something we have to do. And in three years when the fleet is ready, we’ll take the war to ‘The Others’.”
Olaf sat back in his seat and awaited Rebecca’s reply.
All Rebecca Coston could think of was hope. Hope that ‘The Others’ gave the Commonwealth the three years it needed so desperately to ready itself. Because three years or no... 'The Others' were certainly coming.
###
The following is an excerpt from:
The Drake Equation Book 2: Search for the Saiph
PP Corcoran
Copyright 2014 PP Corcoran
Available Summer 2014
CHAPTER ONE
The Happy Wanderer
“Chief Engineer Logan reports we’re ready to fold, Captain. Port control has given us the green light and wishes us a safe journey.”
“Very well, Robards, let’s be on our way. ‘Time and tide wait for no man.’”
Richard Boswell smiled at the quizzical look his young navigator gave him at his use of the ancient phrase before turning his attention to the controls.
The journey from Garunda to Alona was split into ten folds of five thousand light year legs each. As the ship emerged at the end of each leg, it contacted navigation buoys placed by the navy’s survey command and verified its position. The whole trip would take around ten hours, incorporating the mandatory two-hour shutdown for normal service, inspection, and any minor adjustments the gravity drive needed between such long folds.
The Happy Wanderer accelerated steadily under the push of its ion drive, its massive bulk of 1.8 million tons picking up speed until it finally reached three quarters the speed of light.
“Three. Two. One. Fold!” Robards called.
They shifted into fold space with an almost-imperceptible shiver that ran the length of the ship.
A second, stronger vibration indicated their return to normal space.
Alarm bells rang.
Throughout the ship, the “FIRE” alarm signs flashed, their urgent blinking mirrored in the captain’s display demanding Richard’s attention.
What the hell! Richard quickly brought up the ship’s schematic. Fire in the engine room. The sound of bulkhead doors clanging shut reached his ears and the normally constant hum of the air conditioning died as it was automatically cut to prevent the spread of smoke. Richard overrode the alarm on the bridge, silencing it.
First Officer Yoshi Marona turned to Richard. “No reply from the engine room, Captain. I think I should head down there.”
Richard desperately wanted to go himself, but his place was on the bridge. He reined in his impulses and calmly released his first officer.
“Off you go, Yoshi. Scare up what crew you can along the way and give the chief all the help she needs.”
The majority of functions on ships like the Happy Wanderer were fully automated. She ran with a skeleton crew of just fifteen. Most of this crew worked in engineering, which just happened to be the site of the fire.
Yoshi nodded and headed for the bridge exit.
“Yoshi!”
The first officer turned toward his captain.
“You be careful now. Take no chances, or your wife will never forgive me!”
Yoshi flashed Richard a toothy grin and disappeared down the corridor, heading for the engine room at a dead run.
Richard turned to his next order of business. “Sitrep, Robards!”
“Captain, on reemergence into normal space, we continued on course at just under a quarter the speed of light…” he tapped the controls as he spoke. “The engine controls are unresponsive and my board shows the engines went on automatic shutdown at the first indication of fire. My systems are running on emergency power and I have minimal active sensor systems.”
“Kennedy,” Richard addressed his young communications officer, who was busy tapping keys at her workstation, so focused on the screen she was studying, she seemed unaware of her surroundings. Richard raised his voice. “Kennedy!” Still he garnered no response.
“Lorna!” Richard shouted.
Lorna Kennedy jumped as if stuck with a cattle prod. “Yes, sir!” she squeaked.
“Take a deep breath and calm yourself. We have a job to do, keep focused OK?”
Lorna’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her first real emergency at the age of twenty-one and she was acting like a scared five year old. She shook herself. Yes it’s my first deep space voyage, yes I’ve only been here for fourteen days and don’t know the crew, but where did that bubbly confident communications officer go!? Get a grip of yourself woman, you’re meant to be an officer! In a stronger voice she replied, “Yes Sir. Sorry Sir. It won’t happen again.”
“I’m sure it won’t. Now lock onto the navigation buoy and download a message to it. Instruct it to launch it’s emergency communications drone back to Garunda and inform Port Control that we have a fire in the engine room, we are currently adrift at the first way-marker, we are declaring an emergency and request assistance as soon as possible.”
“That’s the thing Sir. I’ve been trying to raise the buoy, but the rear whisker laser mount is not responding to commands or any of my computer fault interrogations. On our current course the bow mount can’t traverse far enough to see the buoy and get a lock.”
Richard mulled over the problem. Each of the navigation buoys contained a communications drone, equipped with its own gravity drive. The drones on this run were programmed to head for either Garunda or Alona, whichever was the closest. Any ship in distress could download a message to the drone and launch it automatically then sit back and await rescue. Not an option.
“Kennedy, warm up the emergency drone. Download our current logs but don’t launch until we hear back from the First Officer as to the extent of the damage.”
The Happy Wanderer, like every commercial starship, was required to carry at least one communications drone of its own. After the incident with the TDF Vasco De Gamma, where it ended up 50,000 light years from its intended destination, it seemed like a prudent requirement. Well, thought Richard, how right they were.
Lorna was tapping at her keyboard again, happy to have a purpose.
The attention tone beeped in the captain's display and Richard activated the pick up. It revealed the image of Yoshi in a hard vacuum suit. A sense of dreadful foreboding twisted his stomach. “Go ahead Yoshi.”
“Captain I’ve reached the bulkhead at engineering. The tell tales on this side of the door show that it’s over eighteen hundred degrees in there. I can’t get a visual as the cameras are down. But…” Richard saw Yoshi's look of despair as Yoshi shook his head, “I'm sorry, Sir, there’s no way any of the engineering crew could've survived.”
"No way?" Richard responded rhetorically as he processed the likely deaths of his crew.
Yoshi shook his head slowly, sharing his captain’s pain. “No. I can’t see it Sir.”
Richard lowered his head, rubbing his forehead gently. Chief Engineer Michelle Logan and he had been friends for almost thirty years, since he had joined Zurich Lines. They had crewed the long haul cargo runs from the asteroid belt to the inner planets; they were god parents to each other’s children. Now, in an instant she was gone. How was he going to break the news to her husband?
Yoshi’s tinny voice jolted his captain back to the present. “With your permission sir, I’m going to seal the next bulkhead back from Engineering and then pump out the air from between the two - use it like an air lock. If the fire has consumed all the oxygen in Engineering then there's no sense giving the fire the food to re-ignite."
“Sounds like a good plan Yoshi."
"I’ll enter Engineering and then open it to space to allow the heat to dissipate before resealing it and re-pressurising. That should allow us to get out of our suits and do a proper damage estimate.”
"How long do you think 'til you can get in and give me a provisional damage estimate?”
“Not long Sir. We’re already suited up here. Give me twenty minutes and I should know what we’re facing.”
“OK Yoshi. Permission granted and I’ll expect to hear from you in twenty.” Richard cut the link and turned to the waiting Robards and Kennedy. “We wait.” he said simply.
It was the longest twenty minutes of his life, Richard alternated between hope and dread. Surely there was a chance someone could have survived? There were emergency suits stored in the engineering spaces for use in case of a coolant leak or sudden depressurisation. The suit's internal oxygen supply was good for up to an hour. Some of the crew may have reached them in time. These thoughts were swiftly quashed by reality; there's no chance anyone can survive a eighteen hundred degree flashover that would have enveloped the entire space in seconds...
True to Yoshi's word the captain's console beeped for attention just over twenty minutes later. With a touch of a control Yoshi’s face appeared, sweat streaming from his brow and a worried look on his face. Richard steeled himself for the news he knew, in his heart of hearts, was coming.
“I take it the news isn’t good Yoshi?”
“I'm sorry Sir... We’ve failed to locate any survivors in the engineering spaces. The heat was too intense. It's horrific down here. Without proper forensic analysis I can’t even identify the remains of the crew.”
Nausea welled in the captain, as all hope for the missing men and women dissipated, his next priority was his surviving crew, he pushed aside his queasiness. “What about the machinery Yoshi?”
“To put it mildly captain, we’re well and truly screwed. All the computer gel packs are destroyed. That wouldn’t be too much of a problem as we have enough spares to replace the more important ones and get the engineering computers back up and operational if only…” Richard frowned as Yoshi continued, “the heat from the fire has warped everything in here. I could probably cobble
something together to get the control mechanisms working but the actual physical parts of the drive are damaged. I’m afraid there’s nothing we have on board that could replace them... Sorry Sir.”
“Understood Yoshi. Get your men clear of the engineering spaces and seal the door.”
“Yes Sir. And sir…”
“Yes Yoshi?”
“I’m sorry about Logan.”
The captain's vision blurred as a tear filled his eye. “Thanks Yoshi.”
Yoshi nodded curtly and cut the link.
Richard gave his eyes a quick rub hoping that neither Robards nor Kennedy had noticed and if they had they would politely ignore it; the captain still had a ship to get home.
He quickly glanced at the ship's clock, fifty minutes - on this course at a quarter of the speed of light. Richard mentally calculated they had travelled 225 million kilometres from the position he had entered normal space and with every passing second he was moving a further 75,000 kilometres from the shipping lane. As long as a rescue ship had his base course and speed they should still find him without too much trouble.
“Kennedy. Please update the logs on our communications drone with our current position, heading and speed. Download the First Officers report and request immediate assistance. Launch the drone as soon as you are ready, if you please.”
Kennedy busied herself with her console and Richard sat back as he calculated how long a rescue vessel would take to reach their location. The shaking of Lorna Kennedy’s head caught his attention.
“Problem Kennedy?”
“Eh… yes sir. The drone accepted the downloads OK. And the command to launch. But my board shows a red light from the launch bay doors. They appear to be stuck.”
Richard conjured an image of the launch bay doors in his mind. Positioned just forward of the rear whisker laser mount. The laser mount that also wasn’t responding. Damn! What else can go wrong? The captain punched the link to Yoshi. The image of his First Officer half way out of his pressure suit filled his display.