Jim 88

by J G Clements

  The launch was scheduled the usual way: The skiff was ejected out of its docking bay, and it would drift away from the Sisk. The Sisk would maneuver away, since the Skiff had very little room left on it for fuel. The timer was set to jump one hour after it was ejected, so the Sisk needed to be far enough away to not interfere. The skiff would only maneuver enough to point itself away from the nearest star, then it would jump.

  If things went well, it would re-appear in approximately 50 seconds, somewhere about a million miles away. Jake did the math in his head and asked the tech why, if it was jumping for 50 seconds, and light traveled at 186,000 miles a second, why the ship would only be about a million miles away when the math said it should be more like ten times that. The tech started to explain the physics of entering and exiting an alternate space, and Jake was completely lost. Not really understanding the answer, he asked if the jumps could be made even shorter, say a few thousand miles away? The tech started to explain that there were minimum entrance and exit velocities, but began to realize the Captain couldn’t follow the logic. Instead, the technician asked if a submarine’s rudder and diving planes worked better when the sub was making good headway. Nodding, Jake relented and let the experts do their jobs.

  Sue was standing by to relieve Jake so he could witness the launch, but he couldn’t help but point something out to her. “One of the most difficult parts of command is knowing when to trust the judgement of your crew, and not over-ride their decisions. If I had insisted on a slower velocity they would have complied. But that would have cost me not only the best technical chance at success, it would have eroded confidence in the crew.” Standing up, he stepped to one side of his command chair.

  Sue, knowing her lesson was over, announced, “Captain, I relieve you.”

  “I stand relieved.” And without another word, left the Bridge.

  Not surprisingly, he saw Jim was already in the launch bay. Not down on the deck, but up in the observation area. Taking Jim’s example, he stayed out of the way of the crew. “What do you think this will mean if it works?”

  Jim turned his head toward the Captain, but seemed to keep his eyes focused on the skiff. “I think this changes everything. If it works, we are about to become hunters.” Now his eyes left the skiff and he seemed to see the Captain. “I read about wolfpacks in the world wars. Tell me. Would the Sisk be a good hunter? Or would you want a different design to hunt the Swarm?”

  “I think this ship was designed to not only protect lessor ships, but it was designed to be a hunter-killer. We are heavily armed, heavily armored, and can actually steam pretty fast.” Then realizing what he said, “If we have to steam again.”

  “Oh, you will. It might be for course corrections but even mini-jumps won’t solve all the logistics problems.” Despite Jake’s experience in both subs and commanding this ship, he knew that Jim would see the implications long before he would. Knowing when it was time to say nothing, he was content to lean against the rail and watch.

  It was only a few minutes later when the work was completed, and even before it was announced you could tell by the actions of the crewmen. The ship was ready. They had all pulled back, leaving the ship alone on the deck. The technician who had thought of the idea was the last one working on it, and Jim couldn’t resist calling out a question from his observation railing. “What are you naming it?” Since it was ‘his’ ship, he got to name it.

  Looking up to see who asked the question, a slow smile came to the tech’s face. “The Boomerang”.

  They didn’t hear the tech’s dialogue with the Bridge after than, but Sue had patched her voice over the ship’s intercom for all to hear. “Attention, Sisk. Please stand by for drone launch.” A short pause, then “Ten seconds to drone launch”. Sue’s voice counted down the seconds and the ship was ejected perfectly on time. Though not normally announced, Sue continued. “Sisk…prepare for separation maneuver”. The slight vibration that occurred with moving a ship so large made the maneuver announcement unnecessary, but with everyone on the ship knowing about this experiment it helped to keep everyone up to speed on events. ‘She’s learning quickly’ passed through Jake’s mind. ‘Leadership is building a common reality, and getting people to help you accomplish it. That,and keep no secrets.’

  Without a word, the two men returned to the dim quietness of the Bridge. Instead of taking the Captain’s chair, Jake made a hand-sign to Sue to tell her to remain in the seat. Taking the observation chair next to Jim, both men seemed content to just wait. Whether it was for Jake’s benefit or for Sue’s education, Sue used the 3D tactical display to show the skiff separating from the Sisk.

  “Commander, would you request the primary jump personnel to join us on the Bridge? I for one would like a play by play description?”

  “Aye sir.” Sue glanced at the Communications operator and the appropriate call was made. It took a full ten minutes for the two Chiefs as well as the technician in charge of this flight to join them. With nods of recognition they took their seats, the Captain making sure the technician sat next to him.

  “What should we see if everything goes according to plan?”

  “A timer will make the ship jump. The calculations show that it’ll be in jump space for fifty seconds. And that’s where it gets odd to me.” Not waiting for prodding, “Normally, when we make a full jump, it seems instantaneous to the crew.” He glanced at the Captain. “Time doesn’t really pass at all for those on board. But in real space, we’re actually gone for about one to four minutes, regardless of the jump distance. Today, we expect the fifty second limit to enforce a ‘minimum jump’ equivalent.” He had more to say, but quickly got into jargon that the Captain didn’t follow. Instead, it was Jim who had a question.

  “If this works, would the second field allow us to work in gravity wells? Could we do this close to a planet?”

  The technician glanced at this colleagues for a quick silent vote. “No. A gravity well is a gravity well. This technique will have no effect on it.” Seeing the puzzle on Jim’s face. “Its easier to assume that the alternate space we jump into doesn’t exist around gravity wells. It’s only smooth enough to enter where the gravitational gradient is very low.” Seeing Jim’s face he felt obliged to say, “Sorry”.

  The hour had passed and everyone watched the skiff, now zoomed on the 3D display. They had rigged running lights on it, programmed to blink three times. The technician explained what was expected to happen as the countdown timer reached zero and the fields were being erected. Then just as the running lights went out, they disappeared along with the ship. Sue immediately zoomed back to normal magnification, and put a circle on the display on where the ship should materialize. A timer counted down on the lower right-hand corner of the display, and everyone on the Bridge was silent.

  A long fifty seconds counted down to zero, then the counter passed zero and put up negative numbers. Upon reaching negative five, there was a heat signature emanating from the target area, and at the same time the communications operator showed he had radio signals acquired from the drone. Jack was about to ask why the ship was five seconds late, when he realized the answer to his own question. Appearing about a million miles away, it had taken the light and radio from the ship almost five seconds to reach the Sisk.

  The technician had now placed himself behind the Communications officer and was examining the incoming data. It wasn’t clear to anyone other than the jump personnel if the data was good, but the look they gave each other spoke volumes.

  Not waiting for Jake’s suggestion, Sue commanded the boat to intercept. At a million miles away, the Sisk would take several hours to get there traveling in normal space at less than 1% the speed of light. Still, the Sisk had big engines and big inertial dampers so she was one of the faster ships. During the time it took to intercept the Boomerang, there was air of victory on the ship, but at the same time, an air of relaxation.

  Twenty minutes before reaching it, the technician requested permission to leave the Bri
dge to command the skiff crew responsible for retrieving it. Granted, the Captain watched the technicians’s back as he left, then turned to speak to the two Jump Scientists. “If everything checks out, how long to retrofit the Sisk?”

  “Captain, it should take almost no time. We have plenty of redundant implosion equipment, and its really just a matter of getting a second set operational with a different field size than our standard one.” Realizing that he was being stampeded, he added, “Once we check out the drone for damage and the like”.

  With an understanding smile, the Captain acceded to his wishes with only one caveat. “You don’t need the entire jump team to examine the drone, right? Why not have a team install the second field generators while the first team examines the drone? I promise I won’t turn it on until you give it a clean bill of health. But the second you pronounce it safe to use, we are going on a tour of this system the likes of which has never been done before.” Turning to look at Jim, Jake made one of his many references to the movies he had seen when he was a child, back before World War II. “The game’s afoot, Watson”. Ignoring Jim’s blank look, Jake was off the Bridge.

  Both Sue and the Communication’s officer were researching the line, and it was the communications officer who found it first. Motioning Jim over, he played a short clip of an old black-and-white movie, ‘Sherlock Holmes’. He had never read those stories, and this clip was interesting. Looking at the data line, he memorized it so he could watch the entire movie later in his cabin. Then making as if to leave the Bridge, he lingered by Sue for a second and asked if she’d like to watch an old Sherlock Holmes movie for date night tonight? No one heard her answer, but she seemed pleased.

  Jim left the Bridge, mulling the line over and giving it more credence than Jake had intended. “Game afoot indeed.”

  Chapter 27. Interview.

  Ceres Report: Herbs

  I’ve unrolled some of the mylar insulation that was originally used to insulate the cryogenic tanks. Very thin rolls of aluminized plastic, they have all sorts of uses. For starters, I had put some out to help reflect more sunlight onto my ship to keep it a bit warmer. But I found another good use for it.

  Taking some of the metal I have collected, I’ve made crude flower pots. But rather than have their toxic metal contact the soil, I used the mylar as a liner. Now, I have several dozen small flower pots in one of tents, and I’ve started to plant vegetables. Radishes, lettuce, parsley and Basil.

  I have enough lighting…real lights I brought from Earth…so I’m hoping i can get something to grow.

  With the full load of wine I had picked up in France, our next stop was to the Spaceport in the Virgin Islands. If it was true about what they say of single malts, I’d need all the cargo space I could get when we got to Scotland. I asked Helen why we couldn’t have loaded my wine onto one of the escort ships and then just go directly to Scotland. Instead, she gave me that teasing-enigmatic blank look in my mind, the one that means, “Wait and See.” With a smile directed toward her, I blanked my mind back at her and tried to call her bluff. She just looked back at me, the cat that ate the canary.

  Landing at the Spaceport was quite an experience cause Helen set me up. With this being an airspace controlled by the Crekie and not merely dove-tailed into an Earth air-traffic control system, it was remarkably efficient. Ships could land at almost the same time and quite close to one another. I was going to give the Crekie credit for that efficiency, then realized how unwieldy a normal airplane is. I suppose the fact that their ships could avoid collision so much better than commercial aircraft gave them lots of options.

  Just for my amusement, she had arranged for us to be landing at the same time a much larger ship was, both of us coming to rest less than three hundred yards apart. I was supposed to have taken a seat for landing, but Helen had told the pilot I was special. I had a number of snarky comments about me being special, but let them all pass unsaid. So instead, I was standing at the starboard viewport watching the sister ship land alongside us. As both ships came to rest, a voice in my head mentioned that the slack-jaw look wasn’t good on me.

  So, after a second to get over my astonishment, I got my first look at the spaceport itself. Over two dozen ships were distributed across the port, with lots of vehicles coming and going. I looked for the pattern and it was hard to see at first. I knew it wasn’t chaotic, but couldn’t figure out why there weren’t a lot of head-on collisions between trucks. Then I surmised that each ship had a circle of authority, and while vehicles could come and go along a huge loop of highway, somewhere around 100 hundred yards from a ship they slowed down, and waited their turn for permission to proceed.

  Other things about the spaceport also struck me. For starters, no large buildings. The whole thing had pretty much been erected overnight. Lots of the pre-fab office trailers you can buy and have delivered on a truck. No wires connecting them but I’m sure each building would have it’s own small fusion system for lights and power. What I was more interested in was plumbing and communications. Instead of asking about it though, I decided I’d figure it out myself. Later. Helen was always impressed when I could do this sort of thing by reasoning alone.

  I was about to ask what our first task was when Helen volunteered the reason for our visit. “We’d like you to interview some of the applicants to see if you think they should be allowed to emigrate off of Earth.” I turned to look at her, knowing they had lots of other folks doing the interviews…they didn’t need me. Instead of making any query into why me, I just nodded my acceptance. While this exchange was happening, Jennifer had the door open and everyone was waiting for me to exit.

  A glance out the door and I realized the parking spot they chose for us was no mistake either. Helen was at it again. Close to the fence that kept the general public from wondering around the field, I knew that folks…civilians…on the other side of the fence could see the Troy. And since I was standing in the doorway, they could see me. Once I realized that, I tried to stand a little taller, doing my best impression of an authority figure. In the back of my mind, I wondered if authority figures should be squinting into the sun this way. I almost never answer questions to myself, so instead I slowly descended the stairs trying to force my eyes to be a bit larger than slits. The idea of wearing sunglasses crossed my mind, but so did the image of most banana-republic dictators. No, eye contact was important.

  Sure enough, there were lots of eyes outside the fence, and quite a number of them recognized me. As a murmur went up, a news crew that had more or less been loitering there all day was alerted. So I was once again going to be in the news. I resisted the urge to tweak Helen and explain that I’d prefer it if she’d tell me in advance when she was going to spring a trap on me like this. But before I could say it, she was in my head, “Do you know whats even better than a trap?” Not waiting for an answer, “a trap within a trap.”

  Knowing this was all the clue I was going to get, I turned at the bottom of the steps and waited for her to descend the stairs. To my amazement, and maybe my discomfort, she took me by the arm, and I found myself immediately acting as her escort. Or was I ? To the press, it might look like I was giving her a tour, with her politely holding my arm. If properly done, I realized that it would not be clear who was in charge. I might be escorting her around, or she might be explaining to her boss how everything worked. As I mulled over those thoughts, the camera crew outside the fence was trying to get our…or perhaps just my, attention.

  It wouldn’t be dignified to have a conversation through a chain link fence: I had seen it done too many times in prison movies. I glanced right and left: There was a gate about twenty yards to my right, and I signaled the crew to walk that way.

  The camera crew obliged, almost trampling over everyone to get there before we did. There were a couple of young men guarding the gate, but upon my assurance of letting them know it was OK to open it, they did. The news crew and I could face each other without the fence blocking my face. I didn’t like the ide
a of speaking as if I was behind bars. Depending on how things went, you can never tell.

  I positioned myself just along the gate line…trying to indicate I wasn’t coming out and more or less suggesting that they didn’t need to come in. Arranged so, I didn’t get a chance to make a statement before I was peppered with questions.

  “Recruiter…what brings you to spaceport?” I was trying to formulate an answer when I realized they weren’t going to wait for an answer before they kept going. “Any announcements? How is the recruitment going?”

  I felt they might go on this way, and raising my free hand…on the arm that Helen wasn’t holding, I signaled for silence. “I have come personally to make sure that the men and women of Earth who want to venture into space, to help defend the Earth itself against its enemies, are being treated fairly, and that everyone who wants an interview gets one.” I let that sink in for just a second, then in a lower voice I looked at the newsman, and piercing him with my eyes asked, “Why don’t you come work for us?”

  Taken aback as the frankness of my question, he smiled at me…a small smile that said there was something more that he couldn’t say. “I see it too. I promise we’ll find someone to get him alone and see what’s holding him here. It’s clear he wants to go.”

  “Thanks Helen, but I have a better idea.” “Would you and your crew like to film us today as we tour the base?” I realized I shouldn’t have used the word ‘base’. We’re just a spaceport, but no one seemed to notice. Probably a junior reporter, he was flattered at the request and after just a half-second of hesitation, agreed. Nodding to the guards, we allowed him and his two assistants…a cameraman and a producer I was told…to enter through the gate before it was closed.