“Suit up, folks. Let’s make this happen!” Stepper walked through the room, already in his own suit. Others were in various stages of readiness, and the general bustle threw Janlin into a nervous excitement.
Finally, they were away to the hidden base. Finally, she would fly the fancy new Seraphs. The sims suggested a sense of power and swiftness unlike anything she’d flown before, making her anxious to try them out long before the Jump. If she were needed in some unknown emergency, she wanted to be in full control of her craft.
A week later, she did have that confidence, and a new passion for the latest technology. The Seraph’s SEMs performed well beyond the Shunter’s, allowing for nearly on-point turns and powerful thrusts. Above all, the Seraph had the latest in nano-technology, giving the ships the strongest hull ever known.
The new Jumpship brought that entire line of advancement one step further. She was a marvel to behold, sleek with a nano-tech hull casing and the best hydrogen fuel cell system, with modifications for the Jumpdrive computer the naked eye couldn’t see.
“This is a great moment in human history,” Stepper said as they gathered for the final boarding. He straightened his crisp SpaceOp uniform, Stepper’s only deceitfulness in this gutsy game. At least, she hoped it was.
“You may not be the first, but you are the ones that will bring our loved ones home, and open worlds of opportunity to all humankind. Today, we will live free, or die trying!”
This garnered a few cheers, and a few frowns. Janlin shook her head. Stepper referred to getting out from under SpaceOp’s thumb, forgetting that these folks were not aware of the hush-hush nature of this enterprise. His mouth pinched as he realized, and he pushed on with important updates and final announcements.
Janlin smirked at Gordon. “He needs to work on his PR skills, eh?”
Gordon puffed his cheeks. “He’s a nutter for even uttering the word ‘die’ at all,” he said.
Still, excitement pervaded the crew as they moved through the well-practiced start up procedures. Soon the Hope disengaged from her construct station as system checks and headings were reviewed, and reviewed again.
The physicists had expressed worries over some faulty after-Jump readings—which proved to be only a small system glitch—and the way folding space would affect the human physiology. Small Jumps to the edge of Sol’s system and back had produced nothing more than mild headaches and a brief sense of confusion. Janlin wondered aloud to Sandy Beckett, one of the physicists, if a longer Jump would acerbate the effects.
“It shouldn’t,” said Sandy with a little shrug. “Folding space is folding space, this much or that. The distance involved shouldn’t matter at all. However, we do have the ship set to fly on autopilot for the first few moments.” Sandy had helped create the Jumpdrive for both ships, and been on one of the test runs of the Renegade, so Janlin took comfort from her words. The physician’s reports agreed that the after-effects of Jumping didn’t appear to hold any health hazard.
A bigger worry was the inability to send probes to scan the system before travelling there. While they took every possible precaution available to them, folding space required manual on-the-spot adjustments, and robotic tests had failed every time. So, Jumping blind, the crew of the Hope prepared for anything and everything.
Everyone who could find an excuse to be there crowded into the control room for the big moment, except for those like Lead Mechanic Candice Young, who kept an eye on things in the launch bay along with her second, Weston Clark. Grateful that Stepper had changed his mind about her riding the Jump in her Seraph, Janlin gave her tiny disk a little kiss for luck before tucking it away under her shirt and strapping into a seat.
Stepper tapped at his console. “All right, folks, this is it.”
Tyrell eased the ship out of the construction girders and into open space. Since they folded space instead of firing huge booster rockets, it could be done within close proximity of the base.
“Communication test, please copy in commanding order,” said Gordon through her earcell.
“Copy that, Comm-tech,” Stepper replied.
“Copy,” said Tyrell, and on down the line they went.
Janlin’s mind wandered as she listened to voices she’d known for years run down the pre-Jump check. In reality, Stepper was being a good man by going in himself to rescue those he sent before, the ones that didn’t return.
Thoughts of what they were about to attempt would not be ignored. Earlier the creators of this breakthrough technology had said to the new crew, “The quantum physics involved go beyond simple explanation, other than the age-old idea of folding space.” She pictured the demonstration once again, the paper’s edges being pushed together, the excess looping up between, so that the distance became nothing between points.
JUMP
Folded? More like compressed, Janlin decided as reality took a whole new shape. It was like existence hung in suspension while being flattened, rolled out, and stretched thin, all while being blown through a straw.
And then, it was over.
Trouble was, Janlin couldn’t see. She thought she heard moans . . . was it her? She struggled to regain her equilibrium, to focus her thoughts in a way that made sense, but instead her brain floated in ambivalence, sounds made no sense, colours darted across her vision. This last resulted in shocking pain radiating through her brain core, and she tried to cry out with no success.
A terrible sense of wrongness pervaded everything. Sounds roiled in discord, echoing in her head like the cry of a million tortured voices singing out of key. Was this hell? Were they all to be trapped forever like this?
Time must still be suspended. Or maybe they still Jumped.
Or maybe this is what happened when you tried to fold too big a slice of space.
Janlin had no clear idea of how long this sensation persisted, only that when the dissonant sounds retreated, her vision cleared and the headache receded a little. Everyone else seemed to have experienced the same effects. The clock showed that the pre-set autopilot had run for nearly two hours, scanning and collecting data while the crew sat stupefied.
The control room reverberated with silence as they all gaped at each other, brains still confused and fuzzy.
“Status?” came Stepper’s choked command. Janlin heard someone heaving, and Janlin gritted her teeth in an effort to make the headspins stop before she joined them.
“Telemetry shows we’re in the right place,” called Science Officer Jari Lovell. He held his head with both hands while studying the screen, as if that would help somehow.
“Computers are operating, though we’re seeing some glitches,” said Sandy.
“Clean them up. Helm?”
Tyrell didn’t look up from his own console. “We’re on course, heading into the system.”
“Scans?”
“The system has two, maybe three planets in the life zone. Once we’re in closer we’ll know more,” said Gordon.
“We did it. Well done, everyone.”
Janlin’s heart swelled at the sound of Stepper’s pleasure in his crew. They’d all braced for the worst, but the Jump was done, and they’d survived.
Stepper tapped his earcell. “Medbay? I need to know if we’ve suffered any major repercussions from being out of it for so long. Start down there and then move up to the control room. I’d like everyone examined.”
People undid their seat straps. Crewmembers hugged, and Janlin hugged back. They all looked as bemused as she felt. Controlled pandemonium ruled the room as more scans came in. Janlin hovered over Gordon’s shoulder, watching and waiting for any sign of the Renegade’s signature.
Stepper appeared at her side.
“It worked,” he said, his voice incredulous. Him, the one that had assured her and everyone else that the Jumpship worked without any doubt. “We’re in a new solar system! Once we’re in orbit of that fourth planet, we’ll see what we can see.”
Janlin frowned. “What about the Renegade?”
His attention shifted to her, and at first, he seemed puzzled. He blinked, straightened, and answered. “That’s where they’re likely to be, if they’ve been out here so long. Right?” He leaned in closer to her. “Imagine if we find a liveable planet, Janni. Imagine!”
“Don’t call me that,” she muttered, but someone called him and he missed her protest. Gordon gave her a small smile of encouragement and directed her attention toward the middle of the room. The holograph machine whined, and an image sparkled to life, coalescing into a 3-D image of what the scanners had recorded so far. There, just as the astronomers had promised, spun eleven planets, three well within the life-zone of the orange-ish star, two close in like their own Mercury, and further out the standard collection of gas giants and frozen rocks.
Janlin wondered if her father walked on one of those planets, waiting for rescue.
Something moved on the peripheral.
“Bring scanners onto that movement,” Stepper ordered.
“It’s a ship,” Gordon said into the sudden quiet.
“The Renegade?” Stepper’s voice broke on the inflection. Janlin stared at Gordon’s screen, already knowing the answer.
“She’s so big . . .” Gordon said in a soft voice of awe.
Janlin squinted. Her eyes couldn’t seem to focus. “We’re in trouble,” she whispered. The exhilaration from the successful Jump turned to a stone in her gut.
“Stations!” Stepper snapped out the word, breaking everyone out of the shocked denial that froze them.
“What’s their bearing?”
“Straight for us.”
Stepper growled. “Tyrell, prepare for some fancy flying. Gordon, send the first contact communication.”
“Done,” said Gordon a second later.
“And?”
“No reply,” he admitted. “Wait! Something . . .”
“Stepper, my board just went down.”
“Mine, too.”
“We are losing computer systems, Captain,” said Jari.
“Dammit, don’t we have better protection than that?” Voices shouted back and forth, meaningless in her confusion.
Aliens? Really?
She glanced over to see Gordon’s fingers scrambling over the keyboard.
“Do we have helm?” Stepper roared over the pandemonium.
Tyrell rattled his controls, his face pale.
“No, sir. It’s all locked up, nothing is responding.”
Stepper spun around, saw Janlin standing there rooted to the floor.
“Man your Seraph!” he shouted at her before turning away again.
Gordon stood from his board. “It’s a virus of some kind—one that knows our systems way too well.”
Stepper cursed. “Go with Janlin,” he ordered, taking over Gordon’s board. “Restart the Jump system, get it up and running. Engineers, find a way for us to fly this thing without computers. Prepare for return Jump—”
Janlin heard this last line as she and Gordon ran out into the corridor and slid down the ladder-stairs to the flight deck. They couldn’t go back without looking for the Renegade first! Besides, could you fly a ship without computers? How would they program a Jump without the computers to take the codes and the NECs to do the calculations?
Candice and Weston emerged from a side corridor, confused faces full of questions.
“What’s going on? Everything seemed fine . . .”
“Ready the Seraphs, we’re heading out,” Janlin said, turning Candice and giving her a little shove forward. “There’s a huge alien ship bearing down on us, and it’s given us a computer virus. Can you get those bay doors open without computers?”
Candice’s face drained of colour. “There’s a manual override function,” she said.
“Good. Get us ready as fast as you can,” Janlin said as she and Gordon struggled into flightsuits. The babble from the control room continued on in Janlin’s ear, panic building as the engineers tried to explain the impossibility of Stepper’s command.
The Seraphs stood with lids open to accept the pilots, level with the flightdeck floor as they sat in the launch trench. Janlin fought down her panic as she struggled into her helmet and mounted the ladder down into her ship. She’d just switched over to the flyer’s comm-link when the babble in her ear chose that moment to cut out.
“Candice? Weston?” Janlin flicked a few keys, switching her broadband earcell link over to the Seraph’s. “Gordon?” She punched the comm-link button twice, then flipped open a panel and fumbled with the connections. Her hands shook so badly she nearly tore the wires from their slots.
Candice appeared at her side and gently blocked her hand from the wires. “No one has communications,” she said. Her chin trembled, but her voice stayed steady. “Is this what happened to the Renegade?”
“Doesn’t matter right now,” Janlin said. It came out more abrupt than she meant it to, but she had to keep Candice focused. “Can we fly?”
Candice was signalling to Weston in the flight booth. “The Seraph’s flight system is separate from Hope, so they just might fly, but—”
“But?”
“We can’t open the flightway doors. Not one system is responding, even manual override functions. It’s a very thorough virus, apparently.” A jolt rippled through the ship under them. Her wide eyes stared at Janlin. “We’re all going to die, aren’t we?”
“Get off the deck,” Janlin ordered. “Make sure you seal the hatch.”
Candice opened her mouth, then shut it again, hesitating only another second before climbing out of the flightway gulley and running for the uncertain safety of the booth.
Janlin thought about her options.
The Seraphs didn’t have Jump capabilities. Good thing, or she’d have Candice climbing in here with her. Janlin punched the comm-link button again, with the same lack of results.
She stretched up and pulled down her lid, and engaged the manual start-up. Seconds ticked by as she prayed to a god she didn’t believe in, and then the ship fired to life.
She glanced over at Gordon, who gave the thumbs-up and went about doing the same thing.
Janlin stared at the flightway doors. She willed them to open. That or Stepper’s voice in her ear telling them to stand down. She continued to reset her earcell, hoping the broadband signal would return.
Another, stronger, jolt rang through the ship, and a voice did speak in her ear, but it was not Stepper.
“This is Fran Delou, previously of the Renegade.”
“That bitch was on the Renegade, too?” Janlin said. Her gut churned with old anger. Fran’s voice cut hard and bitter, and for all the relief Janlin felt knowing that someone from the Renegade was alive, she was not happy. What the hell was going on?
“For our sakes, please don’t resist. Each action of resistance you take, one of us will be punished.”
Another shudder rocked the ship. Janlin met Gordon’s gaze across the flight deck floor. Janlin tried the comm-link again, but it was completely dead.
“Dammit, Stepper, what are we going to do? We can’t just go down without a fight!”
There was no answer. Some rescue mission this was. Again, the Hope rocked under her, and that decided it for Janlin.
Her fingers flew over the board. She would fly out of here, open doors or not. On the display her text message app popped up, and she completed the post to Gordon’s Seraph. She sent a silent word of thanks to whoever decided the Seraphs’ computers would be on their own network.
She looked over and watched Gordon as he read the message. He grinned at her like only Gordon could under such stress, then looked down at his own board.
Sounds like a desperate idea.
No kidding, she typed back.
Don’t off yourself.
Janlin grimaced. He would have to say something like that. Still, if they were under attack, then their freedom could make all the difference.
Once I’m through, I’ll send the all clear and you can follow my lead, she typed.
Right, then. Good luck.
She took a deep breath, powered up her Seraph, and began the take-off sequence.
Would it be worth putting a hole in the side of the Hope? She’d better make it worth it, or Stepper would have her head. Alarms popped up on her display, one after another, finally scrolling there were so many. Janlin shouted in defiance at them all and popped the clamps that held her in the gulley.
Once she had a steady hover, she aimed carefully and nailed the button on the gunnery.
Before the explosion was done, she sent her Seraph forward at full launch speed—straight for the flightway doors that were now obscured in smoke from her barrage.
“Seraphs have hulls proportionately thicker than a Jumpship,” Janlin recited. The walls of the launch gulley flashed by. “They are designed to withstand the hardships of outer space, re-entry, and hazardous landings.” The cloud billowed out, rushing at her, or she at it, she couldn’t tell. “Flyers have withstood all the tests—”
Every muscle tensed for the moment of impact. Janlin closed her eyes a split second before her body was thrown against her seat straps. Metal shrieked and groaned as she punched her booster for more power, her mind straining for hope as much as her machine strained for freedom.
Janlin opened her eyes to see the bent and jagged steel of the inner hull passing her by. Next would come the outer hull. She fired another round, hoping Candice had prepared for decompression as she’d told her to. She knew Gordon would follow if he could.
Her Seraph struck the outer hull, groaning under her. Suddenly she was pushed into her seat as the ship broke through and accelerated. Bright lights pierced her eyes and she blinked away tears as she eased off the thrusters. She glanced at her scanner. It told her she was still inside the Hope. She smacked it with the heel of her hand and gave it up for useless, peering out into an undefined brightness.
Janlin tilted her head back and forth, trying to discern where the light came from, and which way she could fly to freedom. Nose up, it was hard to see, so she let up on the speed, started a turn, and saw the wall she was headed for far too late. No amount of directional thrust was going to prevent impact, but she slammed it on anyway as the wall sped towards her.
Jumpship Hope Page 5