by Shae Mills
"So," said Chelan, looking back at Dar. "How many football fields?"
Finally, Dar grinned. He grabbed her head, bringing her back between his knees and squeezing her tight.
"Okay, okay," she cried. "I give up. I'll pick some other unit of measurement."
Dar released her and glanced at Fremma. "Insolent, isn't she?"
Fremma smiled at him and nodded the affirmative.
Dar stood suddenly, and stepped down to the main console. "We'll solve this problem right now," he stated as he hit a button.
"Bridge," came the reply.
"Sun, could you call up the most recent view of RIBUS 8?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"And Sun, overlay the image with a scale bar set to a Calley unit called meters. That information will be in the ship's computers."
"Yes, my Lord."
Within moments, the main screen came to life, revealing a massive blue-grey ship, its enormity beyond description, its hulking size highlighted by the blackness of space. Dar turned toward Chelan. "So how many football fields?"
Chelan was aghast. She had seen a shot of RIBUS 7 just before they had departed from RIBUS 8, but it had been a distant view. This was a close-up of RIBUS 8 in her entirety. Chelan looked up at Dar and swallowed. "I wouldn't know how many football fields. It's too large to get into perspective." She squinted at the faint grid superimposed over the ship. "Oh my..." she whispered.
Dar spoke. "Thank you, Sun."
"You're welcome, my Lord." And the screen flashed back to black.
Dar returned to them, settling back down behind her. "Now, here's a schematic of RIBUS 7. As you know, she's basically the same ship as RIBUS 8, but with a different internal layout for security reasons."
Chelan was in such awe of the ship's size and complexity that she felt almost disembodied. Fremma startled her as he reached for the fruit in her hand. It was obvious that she could not eat it, and if she squeezed the Sana any tighter, he would not be able to eat it either.
Dar spoke as he leaned forward. "Her total length is approximately one hundred and twenty of your Earth kilometers. She is fifty kilometers wide, and at her thickest she would be about twenty-five kilometers. She is capable of carrying one million warriors comfortably, far more if necessary. But for most of our missions, like this one, she carries about five hundred thousand. In addition to those numbers are all the men and women who service the ship and provide all the work in the industries that allow us to be self-sufficient, often for many years at a time."
Fremma watched her, delighted to see the excitement and happiness written over her pretty face.
The schematic began to twist in 3-D, showing all angles of the vessel, her shape basically that of a double-ended spear. Dar continued. "You already know that she has a total of eight engine rooms and two main Bridges, only one of which is used at any one time. We are deep in the center of her, protected from most anything, barring a supernova." Dar paused. "So where to now?"
Chelan tried , unsuccessfully to prioritize her wishes. "Uh, anywhere."
Fremma spoke. "How about one of the main assembly halls?" he offered, and Dar nodded.
The screen switched, showing a cavernous hall, the magnitude of which Chelan couldn't begin to guess.
"Here is where we assemble just before a mission so Korba or I can give out any last-minute plans or operational changes. It is capable of holding five hundred thousand or more if necessary, but it is used for only brief periods of time. We have even larger halls for social assemblies."
Chelan remained riveted to the screen. It changed, and she gasped. Before her was a workout area that was indeed describable in football fields. It was a monstrous version of Dar's personal area, and it was filled with men and women using many of its facilities.
At one end, people worked individually on weights and on machines Chelan could not identify, while at the other end, vast areas of floor space were cordoned off to accommodate those participating in sparring. Each grid zone had an area containing numerous weapons from which the warriors could pick and choose. "There are twenty of these areas throughout the ship," Dar added.
The screen flickered again, and Chelan realized she was looking at a range containing hundreds of various targets at different distances. She was dumbstruck.
Then the scanner zeroed in on a fairly small area of the range, and Chelan could see individual people using the weaponry. Dar watched her as she peered at the screen, focusing on a man near the center of a long line of men. Chelan watched him for a moment as he fired several shots at a target with a lazgun. Then she turned excitedly to Dar. "That's Nanton."
Dar nodded to Chelan and then looked into Fremma's questioning eyes. "He accompanied us on the trip from RIBUS 8," he said.
The scanner then receded, and the ranges came back into full view. Dar paused, letting Chelan watch. Then he spoke. "This is one of ten such workout areas distributed throughout the ship. Since it is for heavy handheld weaponry, it is heavily fortified and shielded for safety reasons."
The screen jumped again to yet another arena. This time something caught Fremma's eyes. "Range eight," he interrupted.
Dar focused in on a solitary man, a sizeable wound visible along his right side. "Who is he?" he queried, not as familiar with Korba's men as Fremma was.
"His name is Went. He's new this mission, and he's a navigation specialist."
"Do you think he is aware of his injury?" queried Dar.
Chelan turned to Dar in surprise. Dar explained. "When you're full of adrenaline and concentrating hard on what you are doing, sometimes you can be quite severely injured and not know it until you see the blood, or someone points it out to you. The blades that you and I throw are honed to within a molecule's width. With that sharpness, slices in the flesh can be made easily with no sensation of pain. He is not hurt badly, but he should be attended to." Dar smiled at her, and then he looked back up to the screen.
Fremma rose and moved to the console.
"Timins, Sir."
"Timins, check Went on Range 8. See if he knows he is hurt."
"Yes, Sir."
Fremma returned to Chelan's side and watched the screen. Chelan looked deeply into Fremma's penetrating eyes before glancing up at Dar. "Do they know they are being watched?"
Dar shook his head. "They know that they could be watched at any time, but they don't know when. The Command Center is the only place from which it can be done. We can have the capability transferred to the Bridge if necessary, but only by a Commander." Dar looked back up at the screen as a shrouded figure approached Went and tapped him on the shoulder. The warrior looked down at his side and then nodded to the man. He put down his weapons and then left the range.
Chelan was still riveted to the screen. "He really didn't know," she whispered to herself.
Dar smiled. "Ready to move on?"
Chelan nodded. The screen flickered, and suddenly she felt her breath leave her. Her silence lingered, and she drew her quivering fingers up to her mouth.
Fremma was the first to notice her tremors, and he stiffened. Dar caught Fremma's reaction and immediately slipped down the stairs to a position directly behind Chelan. He placed his legs on either side of her and took her by the shoulders. "What's wrong, Chelan?" he asked quietly.
She took her hands away from her face and placed her palms over her heart. "They're beautiful," she whispered.
Fremma and Dar both smiled at one another. Dar put his arms around her and hugged her tightly into him.
Chelan's eyes flew to Fremma, self-conscious over Dar's intimate embrace. But Fremma showed no signs of distress or disapproval. He simply smiled at her and then looked back up at the screen.
Chelan swallowed hard, a pit forming in her stomach. She prayed that she would not lose the gentle warrior. But she quickly put aside the strange feelings evoked by Fremma's passive acceptance of Dar's move and returned her attention to the monitor.
Chelan's eyes continued to course over the spectacle. B
efore her was what she could only describe as a massive hangar deck, the proportions of which were matched only by the engine rooms she had seen previously.
The hanger was in fact five kilometers long. On each side of two central runways there were three rows of fighters stretching its entire length. To Chelan, most looked so similar to her Earth's F-15S-MTDs that she could scarcely believe her own eyes. The only real visible difference was much smoother lines overall, and, of course, they were the standard black that characterized so much of the ship and its people.
Before Chelan could speak, Dar switched the screen, and she gazed upon another similar hangar. This one contained four seemingly infinite rows of slightly smaller fighters, their configuration looking suspiciously similar to the USAF F-16 AFTI. Chelan nestled further into Dar's embrace.
"So what do you think?" he asked quietly, nudging his face into her hair. She remained silent, but Dar smiled. As he had anticipated, he could feel the excitement surging through her body. He had deliberately picked the hangars containing the ships most similar to the ones she was familiar with from Calley.
"What are they?" she asked breathlessly. "They look so much like ours."
Fremma straightened and pointed to the screen. "Those are our primary fighters," he began. "They may look similar so some of your Earth-based craft, but if you looked at them more closely you would see many significant differences, especially pertaining to the aerodynamics. The wing and tail sections of all our fighters are fully retractable for long space travel. This is necessary and desirable, as you want to minimize the surface area that may be struck by fast-moving space debris. It is also advantageous in some atmospheric conditions, especially when dealing with certain types of ground-based detection systems. The fighters must also be fully maneuverable and functional in all atmospheric densities and compositions. That forces a greater diversity in the structure of the craft pertaining to the aerodynamics."
"Actually, the wing and tail sections can assume a great variety of configurations," Fremma continued, "all attainable because of a special flexible outer skin, a metamaterial. All surfaces are now exposed and remain so in the hangar for cleaning and inspection purposes. That is why they may appear to look so similar to your own vessels at the moment. In fact, for some of our technical flights against more advanced adversaries, these fighters can assume a shape more like your 2QZQ concept fighter."
Chelan frowned at him. "How do you know about them?"
Fremma grinned. "Google?"
Chelan slapped at him. "I'm serious."
"So am I, sort of. Do you really think it is very hard for us to get information on your planet's defense systems and military capabilities?"
"Actually, I have no idea how hard it would be, but why would you care?"
"We did have to land there recently. That was reason enough."
Chelan smirked. "But getting information on a concept plane that in all likelihood will never be built?"
Fremma chuckled. "Just keeping all the bases covered, as your people say." He nodded back to the screen. "How big are the fighters that look like this?"
Chelan closed her eyes in thought. "The F-16, fly-by-wire flight control system, one pilot, one engine, Mach 2 at height, capable of nine Gs, about fifteen meters long... wingspan just shy of ten."
Fremma was impressed with her recollections. "Well, these are about triple that size. These particular fighters are one of our long-range fighter models, propelled by fusion engines and carrying an array of diverse weaponry. Some of their payloads would probably be somewhat familiar to you, but most of them are highly specialized with highly accurate laser weaponry and powered again by fusion. These craft are capable of near light speeds in space and are coated with a black protective material that allows sub-light entry into atmospheres. And of course, for very long distances, each craft is capable of folding dimensions."
Chelan thought her head was going to burst, but Fremma kept going.
"The primary fighters are used mostly for high-speed, broad attacks, and for protection of bigger, more cumbersome craft. They carry only one pilot, and they are highly maneuverable so they can be aptly engaged in any situation where a highly nimble craft is desirable. We can send them on ahead for fast first strikes if necessary, and they are used for extended, long-range patrols and reconnaissance. If their antigravity systems ever fail, their thrusters are multidirectional, and they are all equipped with full conventional landing gear if ever required."
Chelan could no longer contain herself. "We consider antigravity systems to be a myth."
Fremma shrugged. "The short answer is it is a myth, but we have learned to fold space and time, remember? We can do it on a small scale."
Dar smiled to himself as he switched the screen back to the first hangar and then took over the commentary. "This fighter is also a long-range fighter, but carries two pilots. Its primary weaponry is the same highly accurate laser weaponry as the other fighter, but the craft is often used for more pinpoint precision missions. Because it is generally flown at lower speeds for these missions, and because it is often engaged for a longer period of action, it is much larger for the convenience of the two pilots and for a greater weapon payload. Because of its overall large size, it has more diversity as to what ordinances we can carry. It is also great for broad bombing missions. And all our craft have thermonuclear capabilities.
"Lower speeds require the engagement of two pilots, the second one whose principle job it is to watch the scanners and screens for approaching enemy crafts or missiles. The first pilot therefore operates the fighter and weaponry and is not distracted or preoccupied by the task of watching for enemy assault. However, it, too, is extremely fast when need be and highly maneuverable in all atmospheres."
Dar stopped and peered down at Chelan, her eyes still wide with awe. Fremma began to speak once again. "Another reason for the term 'long-range' fighters is because of the limited space required for the nuclear fusion power source. The wing space is therefore used primarily for the containment of compressed oxygen for the pilots' use while in space or while on inhospitable planets. On long missions, like the Rigilean one we are presently engaged with, these craft do occasionally require replacement weaponry and oxygen, which is supplied by accompanying transports rather than the mother ship."
There was momentary silence as Fremma looked at Chelan and then to Dar. Fremma signed to him that he thought Chelan was in shock, and the two men smiled at one another.
Chelan suddenly released herself from Dar and stood. She ran her hands through her hair and then pointed to the screen. "How big?" she asked, turning to Dar.
Dar did a mental calculation using Chelan's familiar measurements and then answered. "Approximately sixty meters long, with a maximum wing span of about forty meters, depending, of course, on the sweep."
Chelan was quaking. "Geez, they're huge! How many targets can you track?"
Dar straightened. "With our 3-D holographic system, the pilot of the primary fighter can simultaneously engage up to eighty fast-moving targets, while an automatic tracking system can monitor several hundred more."
Dar hesitated, caught up temporarily by Chelan's enthusiasm, and then continued. "Its scanners supply the ship's systems with a continual spherical sweep, and it has a range of one hundred million kilometers. All targets can be pinpointed and fired upon in space with the laser weaponry within that range, with one hundred percent accuracy. That statistic ignores any space debris causing deflection, which would result in a lower kill rate. Similar results can be obtained in atmospheres at much closer ranges. The craft's scanners can discern targets and identify them visually throughout that sphere to a distance of one million kilometers, and they are not disrupted by any electronic or gravitational countermeasures."
Dar stopped momentarily, wondering what was going through her pretty head. Slowly, Chelan turned away from the screen and stepped up to him. She glanced at Fremma nervously and then returned her attention to Dar's penetrating eyes. "Somed
ay, maybe," she began quietly, "will you show me one of those up close?"
Fremma held his breath as he scrutinized Dar. The Warlord hesitated. Dar wondered if he should divert her attention to the other numerous hangars containing thousands upon thousands more aerospace vehicles, many of which were much more intriguing and diverse than these. But he was awestruck by her fervid desire to learn and her obvious attachment to the ships that looked so much like her own world's, the same ships that he himself held so dear. But most of all, he wanted to do something for the woman that he loved so much. Despite the breach in security, he would grant her wish. Dar stood and took a deep breath. "Go put on your uniform and come right back."
Chelan's smile lit the whole room. Instantly, she broke into a sprint up the stairs. Dar lunged at her, catching her before she reached the doors. "Hey! Slow down, or you'll startle the guards."
Chelan pried herself out of his arms and nodded her understanding. She collected herself and walked quickly out of the Command Center.
Dar looked at Fremma and smiled. He started down the stairs to pick up his shroud. "She never ceases to amaze me," he commented, shaking his head.
"Nor I," added Fremma as he donned his own shroud.
Both men armed themselves heavily as Dar spoke. "We'll take her to Korba's private hangar, where there will be only your best men and a few of mine. That will minimize the chance of any rumors pertaining to a Warlord losing his mind and showing an alien all the Empire's best weaponry from bouncing around an already edgy ship."
Fremma chuckled as he did up his shroud. "You should have let her go in there with her gown on. The guards would have been so busy trying to control themselves that they wouldn't have noticed that we were showing her the ships."
Dar laughed as he knelt and checked his knives. But his gaiety quickly subsided. "I believe that all Korba's ships are still there, as he took a primary fighter from the main hangar."
Fremma was more than a little disturbed by this revelation, as he knew that the Warlords nearly always used their own ships for security reasons. Fremma had known that Korba had thought of using a ship other than his own, but he had not known if Korba had done so for sure. Fremma wondered if Korba's reasoning had been totally intact for this mission, or if the Warlord was actually hell-bent on taking chances in a subconscious hope that he would not be coming home. Fremma's troubling thoughts were interrupted by Chelan's buoyant return as she ran down the stairs to them.