Ariticle Six

by C. T. Christensen

  CeCe’s eyes wandered down to some remote point below the deck, and she tried to steady her hands by wringing them together, “well . . . I guess it’s more accurate to say that I believed I was making a choice between a hideous, slow death from radiation poisoning and a quick, painless end.”

  She cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and lifted her eyes back to the people around her, “Progress in the field of isolator drive technology has been an interest of mine for all of my adult life. I can assure you that there is not one scientist in all of humanity that has even speculated on the possibility of what has happened here.”

  She stood straighter and spread her arms, “Here we are. So, what are we going to do with it?”

  She pointed to a crewman that was standing by the room’s lighting panel; he turned off all but a couple of the ceiling panels at the edges of the large room. CeCe touched the switch on the projector control column she was standing next to, and a much larger resonator display appeared above the projector stage. She stuck her arm into the display and pointed out the features.

  “This red dot is us. This blue spot is the Forest sun. We are moving along this green line in this direction. It is possible to alter the course of a ship in isolator drive but only to a small degree depending on available excess power. We have very little excess power, but Captain Helt is making as much of it available for course alteration as possible.

  “As you can see, this green line has a slight curve in it. We are bending the course of Forest as much as possible to bring us as close as possible to this system and, eventually, to this system. Our general heading is back toward human occupied space but only along the edge of it, not deeply into it. Our velocity is rather low because we only had the orbital speed of Forest when we started and that was about 30kps.

  “We will pass this first system at about a one light-week distance in fifty-eight Earth standard days from today. It is what we call a class-three system; that is; it does not have any planets capable of sustaining life. What it does have is a large asteroid mining operation under the control of the RMK consortium.

  “Seventy-one days later, we will pass very close to the Mallcott system. This is a class-one system with a high level Earth-like planet in the early stages of colonization. It, also, has an initial stage asteroid mining operation.”

  CeCe signaled to the crewman again, and turned off the projector as the lights came up.

  “It seems that there have been a few instances in the past where ships in isolator drive have had accidents where panels or things attached to the hull have come off. In a couple of those cases, the lost item was found undamaged floating in normal space. This indicates that it is possible to launch objects into normal space from a ship in isolator drive. Our plan is to launch a beacon with a message detailing our problem as we pass the RMK operation. Captain Helt is working on a device with a powerful transmitter.

  “Because we can only get to within about one light-week of the RMK operation, our signal will take a week to reach them, but that should not be a problem because of the time it will take us to get to the Mallcott system. Our message will request that they notify all available agencies that can be reached in time to have as many ships as possible waiting for us at Mallcott when we break out. There, we will evacuate Forest.

  “If, for some reason, our beacon fails to attract attention, our passage past the Mallcott system will take several months; that should give us plenty of time to put together an evacuation even if our arrival is a total surprise.”

  Several of the Watts town leaders were sitting in a front row and had started an animated conversation. CeCe stopped in front of them, “Do you have a question?”

  A few more quick words apparently designated one of them to speak.

  “ will be our new sun ”

  “Ah . . . no! Because of our normal space velocity, it would be possible to break out at a precise point that would place us into a stable orbit around the Mallcott primary. However, our orbital distance from the sun would be within only several thousand kilometers of Mallcott itself and would eventually lead to the destruction of both planets. Also, the introduction of such a large mass into a stable system would disturb that stability. Therefore, we are aiming for a pass well outside the system plane that will take it on a path away from other systems.”

  One of the volunteer civilian crew members a few rows back stood up, “Captain, won’t the lack of a sun freeze this planet solid before we get there?”

  “Indications are that there should not be a problem. It was discovered almost immediately in the early days of isolator research that low-level energy does not transfer either way. The only thing that crosses the interface is spatial distortion caused by large concentrations of mass. That is the reason a mass resonator works and the only kind of thing we have to avoid driving into. Because we cannot radiate heat through an isolator field, all ships store excess heat in molten salt heat sinks while in isolator drive and then dump it when they return to normal space. In fact, the heat sink tanks on the Weasel were never enlarged when the Berlin reactors were installed because those reactors were intended to be used while the ship was grounded in normal space and we could radiate excess heat. Right now we are producing a huge amount of heat but venting it to the atmosphere. It is expected that we will only have a heat dissipation problem after we break out. We will not be close enough to the Mallcott sun for it to have any real effect in warming the planet.

  “Until we reach Mallcott, survival is the only job. All of our floaters have been equipped with exterior lighting to illuminate fields that are being harvested and as many linear battery powered lighting systems as we can build are being set up in the towns. All of the people that can be spared from the Weasel’s crew are out helping in any way that they can. We all have our jobs; let’s do them. Thank you.”

  As CeCe finished and disappeared into a crowd of people with more questions, Wills leaned his head close to Helt’s and pointed a finger toward the door to the dining hall, “Who is that woman standing next to Jordan? I can’t remember seeing her before.”

  Helt looked toward the door. The woman was slightly taller than Jordan. She had short, platinum blond hair, no makeup that he could see from across the room, and was wearing a standard blue Navy ship suit. She radiated stern command authority as she stood at attention and took in the scene in front of her.

  “I believe that is Katrin Jordan. I haven’t met her but I have heard disturbing reports from several of my people. I gather that she got her psychiatric degree from the Institute for Advanced Sadomasochism and Prison Administration. I strongly suggest that you keep your shoes shined and don’t slouch in your chair.”

  ##

  “DOCTOR BERNARD JORDAN REQUESTS ADMISSION TO THE BRIDGE DECK.”

  It was midnight, ship time, and Wills had just been transferring the watch to CeCe.

  “AI, admit Doctor Jordan.” said Wills.

  “Have you met Jordan, CeCe?”

  “Yes, sir; I’ve heard that he and his wife never seem to sleep, or else they take turns being everywhere at the same time. I also hear that they have commandeered a floater and pilot to get them around the towns. Apparently they are taking their new positions very seriously.”

  Further discussion ended as Jordan came out of a passageway at a rapid walk. The energy he displayed was tiring to behold.

  “Ah, excellent, I got you both at the same time. Admiral, Captain; if you have a moment, I would like to give you both a quick report on our progress.”

  CeCe was in her command seat and Wills leaned against the console, “Go ahead, Doctor; now is as good a time as any.”

  Jordan pressed his hands together and settled into lecture mode, “Katrin and I have settled on two primary methods of holding off the most common effects of the lack of a normal diurnal cycle; those are light therapy and imposition of a strict routine. Other methods that have been used successfully are drugs, hypnosis, and, to a certain extent, dietary mod
ification. As most of the people affected by this problem are Foresters, those last three treatment methods are impractical at best.

  “Luckily, Captain Helt came up with a solution to my request for full spectrum light panels by pulling the vid screens out of the Weasel’s passenger quarters. He then set up a small signal generator circuit that caused them to display solid full spectrum white light with a slight emphasis on green for fifty minutes every hour with the remaining ten minutes showing short vids of scenes from various human worlds. He has thousands of these and is distributing them all over the Forester towns with his people instructing in their use.”

  Jordan’s eyes narrowed as he looked closely at Wills’ face, “Did you shave before coming on watch, Admiral?”

  The oddity of that question surprised Wills and CeCe, “Ah . . . no; why?”

  “Admiral, the two of you are used to shipboard life but you both are spending a good deal of time outside of the ship; it is beginning to affect your behavior. Admiral, you did not shave, you need a haircut, and I see a small tear on your sleeve. Captain, your uniform is not as crisp as it should be and your hair needs a bit of trimming. Both of you need to polish your shoes.”

  Those words made Wills realize something he had unconsciously noticed; Doctor Jordan was immaculately turned out. Everything was fashionably coordinated, clean, and crisp. Jordan also had his remaining hair neatly trimmed, and--damn--he even smelled good.

  Jordan waved a finger at both of them, “One of the best ways to maintain psychological balance in these coming months is to maintain a strict routine of daily activity. With a list of things to do and an appropriate time to do them, you will have less time to let the outside situation sink in. The two of you and the other crew members should have the easiest time of it so put in the effort to look sharp. The proper example starts with you and will make my job easier.”

  Somewhere in there, Wills had a flashback to the Academy and being braced by an upperclassman for a wrinkle in his shirt. He looked down at his sleeve while he rubbed his chin, “Huh . . . you’re right, of course; thanks for the spanking, Doc.”

  Jordan smiled, turned, and energetically walked back down the passageway.

  CeCe smiled up at him, “I know you thought the two of them would be a good idea, but . . . careful what you wish for.”

  Wills gave her a long suffering look and then headed for his quarters; he could, at least, shave and change his blouse before he went down for cinnamon rolls.

  ##

  “That is the damned ugliest thing I have ever seen.”

  Wills had the sour expression to go with the words as he walked around the big, boxy thing that sat at the edge of the game field.

  Helt was checking the readings on a screen attached to the side of it, “I build what works; pretty comes after I get someone to buy it.”

  He held up his com pad, “Transmitter active.”

  CeCe’s voice came back, “Transmission being received and blowing my ears out. They should be able to hear that back on Earth in two hundred years. Closest point in sixty seconds . . . mark.”

  “Right, launching now.”

  Helt tapped the last key, snapped the screen closed, and stepped back. Three seconds later, it shot straight up. He and Wills watched as brilliant white strobes started flashing at every corner of the box, and kept straining their necks until it abruptly vanished.

  “Transmission lost at ninety-eight kilometers.”

  Wills lowered his head to face Helt, “At least we seem to have most of the atmosphere.”

  Two shadowed figures came toward them out of the bright glow of the Weasel’s lights; Doctors Bernard and Katrin Jordan stopped in front of them.

  “Gut mor-r-ning Admir-r-al, Kap-i-tain.”

  Katrin Jordan had come from the planet Gervasius. Its primary settlers had a large Germanic element, and she spoke with the guttural, r-rolling, and tapping accent still common there. Bernard was fairly tall, but Katrin was a good three centimeters taller. She was a good looking woman and had adopted a well tailored Navy ship suit as her common mode of dress. Looking at her, Wills had the passing thought that he had known Marine Drill Sergeants that would look like slobs standing next to her.

  “Good morning, Doctors; what brings you out at this hour?”

  The reflection from Wills white uniform was enough to show the features of her face and more than enough to cause her short, bright blond hair and pale blue eyes to glow, “The hour-r es no matter-r; ve haaf a job to do. Our-r cur-r-ent task es a r-egular ins-pection uf Watts.”

  Bernard just stood there with a smile on his face; he knew how his wife affected other people.

  Her eyes raked both of them from stem to stern, “You both r-require you-r shoes shined. Kap-i-tain, you need a shave.”

  Helt stroked his chin, “Uh, well, I’ve been going at it for the last fifteen hours.”

  “NOT an excuse, Kap-i-tain. You a-r-e a leade-r. You a-r-e an example.”

  “Ah, yes, you’re right; I’ll take care of it immediately.”

  “Gut! Und get some sleep.”

  Katrin and Bernard walked past them and continued their energetic walk into town.

  “I’m beginning to hate those two.” said Helt.

  Wills watched them go, “Get in line. When we get back, I’m thinking of introducing her to Captain Weathers and get even with both of them.”

  They turned and started walking back to the Weasel; they had tried teaching the Foresters a couple of human ball games on the game field, but the lights that they had set up to illuminate the field had not been enough to hold back the crushing psychological weight of absolute darkness. Life had moved indoors where it clustered around bright therapy screens, electric lights or fires; the only outside activity was the cutting of more wood to burn or movement from one group to another.

  Wills put a hand on Helt’s shoulder and they stopped halfway back to the ship, “Ellias, there are still a couple of troubling thoughts bouncing around my head.”

  Helt looked a question at Wills, “Like?”

  Wills pointed the thumb skyward, “If that beacon goes unnoticed or comes apart, we are going to be a total surprise at Mallcott. Without being warned, I can have no expectation of there being adequate transport capability in-system. Even though we will take several months to transit past the Mallcott system, we will start losing heat the instant we come out of isolator drive. Right now, we cannot radiate heat, but the instant we break out, this planet’s heat is going to disappear in a rush. We may have a few days of easy operations, another week of difficulties, and perhaps a total of one or two months before everyone left is dead. I see our worst case scenario as us having to begin transporting on our own. I was wondering if you had given any thought to repairing the ring so that we can get some people off Forest.”

  Helt nodded; they turned and resumed walking toward the ship, “I have located the needed materials and I believe I can have it reasonably functional in a week. The fun part will be digging out the struts, but we have the equipment and manpower to handle that too. The big problem will be the fact that you will have no isolator drive and will have to do everything at sub-light speeds with an even lower allowed power input to the ring; you would be pushing it to get back in time for a second load.”

  Wills nodded, “It will be what it has to be. Repair the ring and get the pads dug out.”

  This time, it was Helt that stopped and turned, “There is one more thing that you are going to have to worry about.”

  Wills eyebrows went up.

  “The normal procedure for breakout is to dump the power that is going to the drive to the accumulator stacks just after you cut the deuterium flow; fusion reactors are not instant-off devices. Our problem is that we no longer have accumulator stacks, and, even if we did, they were never sized for the magnitude of this situation. The only plan I have is to divert as many of the old Weasel reactors to the ship’s systems as I can and then just cut the fuel to the rest of the reactors. The driv
e will cease operating when the power input falls below some critical level.” Helt smiled grimly at Wills, “How that will work is something else that has never been tried. My most evil speculation tells me to expect the reactors to flash-back into the initiator chambers badly enough to permanently knock out a few of the reactors. Add in the fact that the power transfer will still be to the drive and not the accumulators and you had better pray that the Silverman has been staying up nights working on the shut-down problem.”

  Wills closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “You are a fount of joy, my friend.”

  They resumed walking toward the ship, “Admiral, I would recommend that there only be a big enough crew aboard during shut-down to handle any problems.”

  Wills just nodded; there was nothing else to do but nod.

  ##

  He should have been getting some sleep. He had been off watch for three hours now and had been wandering around the quiet ship since then. It was odd how many people were unable to sleep; well…maybe not so odd. After the initial panic building lighting systems, getting the crops harvested, and doing what they could to stabilize the Foresters’ daily routine, the military and civilian crew of the Weasel had settled into their own version of everyday life. There were groups gathered into small knots all over the ship but there was little noise; they just played card games or watched vids; at least, they sat in front of an active screen and looked in its direction. Wills got the idea that a form of hypnosis was substituting for sleep when he realized that the same vid had been playing on the same screen to, pretty much, the same audience at the same time for over a week. He had a thought that none of those sitting in front of the screen would remember a single scene or else would be able to quote the entire script without error. He filed that in his memory to check on someday.

  It was now a couple of weeks since the beacon had been launched, and life had returned to a grinding routine of sameness. Wills found himself down on the strut platform looking down an open loading ramp at the back of a female Petty Officer sitting at the bottom of the ramp and crying. He approached to within a meter of her and cleared his throat. She jerked her head back over her shoulder and jumped to her feet and came to attention when she realized who it was.