USS Kepler Dawn

by Gerald Lane Summers

  Young men frequently worried about what they might do in the future. I was not one of them. I’d always known what I wanted, and that was to be the leader of a great ship like Kepler Dawn. Then, I could, like the captain wear tailored clothes based on old style naval uniforms and look as spiffy as a Marine in full dress blue. It occurred to me that I must be a very shallow fellow to think like that.

  After entering the transport tunnel, the captain picked out a two seat tube car for the seven mile trip to the rear of the ship and we both clambered in. Once the safety bars came down and clicked to secure us, he glanced at me, nodded and then pushed the drive control forward. I was braced for a hair-raising ride though he was in no hurry. Perhaps he didn’t want to scare me, because he eased the stick forward gently before shoving the control ball to the wall. When I used one of the tubes alone, I tended to take off like a phased plasma pulse.

  Chapter 5

  We arrived at the fusion reactor room located a half mile from the anti-gravity drive units in a matter of seconds. The captain stepped out of the tube car and said, “Follow me.”

  Although I’d been worried about the consequences of the classroom incident, the past two weeks had passed uneventfully. It could only mean that the staff had not seen fit to issue a reprimand or comment on it in any way. Now, with the captain’s invitation to tour the power rooms, things were definitely looking up. Other post-high students were going to be jealous of the captain’s invitation. My thinking was that it might give me a leg up in whatever competitions we were to face after the naval academy opened in late August.

  There were always jealousies, individuals pushing for position, competing over everything as if it really meant everything. My father had warned me of this and made sure I understood when it came to military service, performance was all that mattered. Those who thought otherwise would be sadly disappointed. I believed him.

  We entered the double sealed, shielded doors of the fusion reactor room and walked into the atmospheric prep lock, a precursor requirement for entry into the compartment. There, a monitor, in this case a first lieutenant who looked much like Lieutenant Herman dressed from head to foot in a fire suit and mask, offered each of us a full body pressure suit and self-contained breathing apparatus. She did not offer an explanation and I did not ask. The captain donned his and so did I. Without asking, I checked his mask and suit-fitting closures, made sure they were tight front to rear and he did the same for me. Again, a lesson I had picked up on my own.

  The massive room containing the laser systems, sixty in all, as well as the fusion reactor housing was breath taking. The magnetic fusion containment system was housed within a bell-like structure at least two hundred fifty feet wide at the bottom, less so at the top. Pipes for the heated water, cooling systems and generators ran in and out of the bell going somewhere, although I knew not where. Walls of digital gauges and switches lined the sides of the room, all designed to detect and control the various things involved in creating and making use of a nuclear fusion reaction.

  At least two ensigns and a lieutenant were stationed in front of each wall in the rectangular room, staring at the various instruments. The lieutenant in command of the left side wall braced and saluted the captain, who returned it casually. No one announced the captain’s presence as normally required at all non-critical stations. The rule did not apply in either the propulsion or fusion compartments as it might disrupt a critical observation.

  “Lieutenant Cockney,” the captain said. “This young cadet has just graduated and will no doubt be assigned here when he completes his indoctrination courses. His name is Andy Kelso, more commonly known as “Stick.”

  The lieutenant straightened slightly, “Commander Kelso’s son?” he asked with a modest smile on his face.

  “Indeed. And it will be no easy burden to carry. His performance to date suggests he will do just as well as his father. George is one of the finest officers on the ship and based on my own observations, Stick will live up to his reputation.”

  Damn, I thought. I had no idea the captain had been following my progress that closely. I knew he paid attention to the students, but not to the extent he’d just announced. I could not wait to tell my father what the captain had said both about me as well as him.

  The captain abruptly ended the chit chat, turned and waved casually to me. “Come,” he said. “I’ll give you the cook’s tour of this compartment. Perhaps it will give you an advantage in the future.”

  “Yes sir,” I replied. “I’ve been looking forward to it for a long time.”

  In the very middle of the far wall was a large old-fashioned red double knife electrical switch that I knew from my studies was referred to as the emergency shut-off system. If anything went wrong, the person closest to it was supposed to pull the lever down, thereby shutting off power to the lasers. Of course, no one would likely be reaching for the switch because they would have been vaporized when the fusion ball expanded with the total loss of its laser input, which created the fusion ball and also controlled how it behaved. With an unexpected collapse of the laser system, the fusion ball would likely expand for a nanosecond and escape the ceramic containment bowl. This would allow the superhot plasma to fill the entire compartment.

  The switch was put there both as a joke and a reminder to people of the seriously dangerous nature of the fusion system. It was commonly referred to as the “poof,” switch.

  Normally, when the main reactor was to be shut down for maintenance or fuel replacement, the reserve unit on the opposite side of the ship would be brought on line until everything checked out. This allowed for continuous operation, usually with no break in the speed of the ship. I knew that much and was learning a great deal more as we continued the tour, especially about how the reactors were engaged and shut down.

  Shutting the reactors down was a delicate operation involving precise control of both the magnetic fusion containment system, staging the heat out in slow increments along with the sequential termination of the lasers that normally kept the chain reaction active and under control. As long as it had fuel and the lasers continued to fire, the reactor would produce massive amounts of heat energy not unlike that of the interior of a star. It did not take much fuel to produce that energy and was the true beauty of nuclear fusion. You get vastly more energy out than you put in.

  Confined within the reactor vessel and held in place by the massive magnetic forces radiating from the forward antigravity engines, the heat from the fusion reaction generated the superheated fluids that in turn ran several massive electrical generators. The power then ran the entire ship and all of its various systems.

  After the short chat with Lieutenant Cockney, Captain Hollenbeck started walking around the room, checking gauges and the numbers presented while the lieutenant followed close behind to receive any orders or suggestions the captain might offer. I followed behind the lieutenant doing my best to remain unobtrusive.

  I noted the captain periodically tapped a gauge with his index finger. It appeared to be a habit no doubt picked up in his early days flying heavier than air machines. I’d seen old movies where pilots did that to make sure an indicator needle was not stuck in the gauge. Of course, systems on Kepler Dawn were all digital, not analog; so it was a superfluous act.

  The walls of the fusion room were said to be made of a stainless steel/ceramic alloy mixed with minute particles of metallic hydrogen. For some unknown reason, this mixture combined to create incredible strength and heat resistance. In larger quantities, the metallic hydrogen turned the alloy into a superconductor that was used widely throughout the ship.

  I did not know for certain what any of the things in the room were made of. Stories were told of people who had entered the room carrying ferromagnetic objects and found themselves impaled on something when they approached the fusion containment bell. Such objects tend to disrupt the magnetic containment. As surreptitiously as I could, I retrieved my flexible note pad to write down as many questions as I could
think of.

  As we completed the tour, left the fusion room and changed out of our pressure suits, the captain turned to me and dropped his head a notch.

  “When you are formally inducted into the service academy, it is likely you will be assigned here first. It is an honor, by the way. Most new ensigns start in systems of lessor importance, like the food syntheses department or one of the disposal units. It is not a mark against anyone to start in such areas, because everyone must do it sooner or later … and we all must eat. By the time you’ve graduated from the academy, you will have become an expert on every system on the ship. It is, however, considered a singular honor to start in the power system rooms. It means you have achieved the highest honors in your high school graduating class.”

  My mouth must have dropped open. “Are you serious, sir? No one has mentioned that to me. I assumed it would be revealed at the graduation ceremony. And there are several other students who could have higher grades.”

  “You are correct, of course. In fact, you and one other student tied for overall grade point honors. You were chosen as valedictorian for reasons other than your excellent grades. You have demonstrated genuine leadership ability throughout your life, an intuitive grasp of things that are important and those that are not, and in the minds of the majority of the ship’s officers that was the major factor. You are also very well-liked and respected by your peers. Factors like that go a long way in commanding a ship.”

  I tried clearing my throat. As I did, it stuck. I couldn’t swallow or cough. Finally, I croaked my way to a question about Lieutenant Herman and the classroom incident. Would it hurt my record and hold me back?

  He smiled and then appeared to chuckle under his breath. “You’re a young man, full of piss and vinegar and perhaps a bit over-zealous. You were right about the history, though; and efforts are underway to change things. It did raise a few eyebrows in the wardroom when Lieutenant Herman reported it, as she was required to do. Even so, the staff generally laughed it off. Punishing students for things that happen on Ascension Day is not popular or well received by the majority of officers. After checking the video, most of them laughed and concluded it had taken a lot of chutzpah to pull that off.

  Further, we all know Lieutenant Herman to be a fine competent officer. Nevertheless, like many educators she likes to trip students up now and again to see if they are paying attention. It’s not against the rules and can in some instances work to a student’s advantage in the real world. Her job is difficult, with little immediate reward and there is no teacher on board who has not experienced a case of the frumps on occasion. She takes particular glee in popping the bubbles of the best students. No one really knows why? She was probably mistreated by some hotshot snot in her youth. As a teacher, however, we recognize her right to run her room as she pleases and it is the duty of the students to obey.

  It is a fact, however, that some of the less forgiving officers have expressed the view that she should be transferred to a middle school math class. They are generally more in need of harsh discipline than the high schoolers. What would you think about that?”

  I thought about it for a moment; then looked down at my shoe and back to the captain. “Not much,” I said. “The truth is, I was daydreaming about my Ascension at the time and would not like my poor behavior to reflect badly on her. In fact, in my view, she is the primary reason for my good marks. She is the best teacher on the ship. I’d know nothing of math, let alone relativity and quantum mechanics or understand any of it without having had the benefit of her guidance.”

  I paused for a moment to see if my comments were being received or ignored. The captain was looking at me intently.

  “She is good, Captain. Very good, and I think she should be in a position where her knowledge and abilities could be put to better use. She is a very beautiful woman and people sometimes think that means she is less competent than others. I am not one of them. Yes, she plays games with the students and even with other adults on occasion, primarily because she is bored, not because she is mean spirited. And, I would say to anyone who has complained, if they had not gone over the top and challenged the rules as I did, she would not have been inclined to rattle them in the first place.”

  Chapter 6

  Wow, I’d just contradicted the Captain.

  He nodded, a pensive look on his face.

  “Well, Stick … you are full of surprises. You’ve given me something to think about and that is important. Thank you. Now, let’s go check the anti-gravity machinery and then head on down to the lunch room. I’m starving.”

  The anti-gravity compartment was approximately a half mile further toward the rear and was quiet except for a very low hum. Again, we had to stop and be examined by a monitor. Like an MRI machine, the propulsion units were also sensitive to stray metal in the control room. An unforeseen reversal of polarity, for example, might do real damage to anyone in possession of ferrous metals at the time.

  Anti-gravity vehicles propelling people around on Earth had all been quite small. Some could reach orbit and with special training the pilots could purchase one. The engines pushing Kepler Dawn were massive, twice the size of the laser/fusion room, and there were three of them. One, in the center rear of the ship was for constant use. The other two straddled the fuselage and were used primarily for back up.

  Unlike the fusion reactor, these machines could be shut off instantly and controlled precisely to generate the exact speed needed at the time. We were now zipping along at four point five times the speed of light, cruising on the center engine.

  The captain was only able to give me a general overview of how they worked. It was too complex, he said and did not want to prejudice me for when I was actually enrolled in the appropriate classes and then stationed in the engine compartment.

  As we entered the cadet and enlisted personnel cafeteria, I took the opportunity to yell out, “Attention on deck! Captain is in the room.”

  Everyone, from cadets to servers, stopped what they were doing, stood if they were sitting, braced and waited for the captain to order, “Carry on.”

  One or two cadets jumped up too fast, knocking over their lunch trays. It was not uncommon for officers to visit the enlisted or colonial mess rooms. It was very uncommon for the captain to eat there. I could not help thinking he had some special reason.

  The captain chuckled and then announced in a loud voice: “From now on people, there will be no bracing in the dining rooms. It overworks the cleaning crews. Sit down and enjoy your lunch. Anyone who dropped their trays, please get another on my tab. Carry on.”

  I knew there was no such thing on the ship as a monetary tab, because the ship’s economy did not require it. Every person’s food intake was monitored to make sure they were not overdoing their ration. That was what the captain meant and I was sure he would absorb the loss on his own ration card. The only problem was that it was partly my fault. I had not been told to make the announcement as I did. It was a habit and I thought it an important rule for officers to be recognized. Before we left, I would make sure my ration tab absorbed the bulk of the loss. My metabolism had changed considerably since I was in elementary school and I probably needed to watch my weight closer anyway.

  After filling our plates at the food service counter, the captain walked over to a far corner table with me following. The table he chose was in a corner next to the encircling telescreen, similar to the one in our science classroom which displayed the galaxy as it would have been seen from the outside as the ship streaked through it. Stars that were reasonably close seemed to zoom along while those closer to the galaxy center in the constellation Sagittarius appeared to move slowly.

  Sitting close to one of the three dimensional screens placed strategically around the ship provided a sense of reality to that which was not, because the ship did not have windows. Rather, it was thickly protected with the same type of laminated metal and ceramic shielding that would protect us from harmful radiation in the event of a failu
re of the anti-gravity bubble. It was like looking out over the Grand Canyon on Earth, or at least that was my measure of it. I’d never seen the real canyon because I’d been born in space. Those who had and had written about it thought it an extraordinary vision. Perhaps Kepler 186f would have such a canyon for us all to enjoy.

  Our table was just far enough away from the other patrons to allow for private conversation. Clearly, the captain wanted to talk and relax. Nevertheless, I knew this would not be happening if he did not have something on his mind. My intuition was acting up again. I could feel his thoughts wandering toward me, not unlike the way I felt when my father was about to give me a bit of advice.

  “I used to enjoy eating and associating with my peers like this back in the old days,” the captain said. “… and truly miss the experiences we all had. The early days of space travel were incredibly interesting. Every day something new came along, though none of us thought we would one day attempt to travel to another star system. It should have been obvious, I suppose, even though five hundred light years is a long, long way.

  Damn, I really miss all that. There was a constant sense of camaraderie, fooling around like the young teenagers we were, learning all the time while constantly screwing up.”

  “Isn’t it still like that in the Officer’s Mess?” I asked.

  He smiled. “Yes, to some extent. It is more so in the Wardroom where the top officers talk about the ship and the mission. The level of responsibility everyone has tends to take the carefree nature out of it. We are heading for the unknown in a vast pool of darkness at the mercy of whatever is out there. How are we to know if there are intelligent species waiting for us on one of Kepler 186’s planets? Will we have to fight, keep going, or have an easy time of it? No one knows, however the astronavigation people have recently detected some interesting low power signals from Kepler 186f. It may mean we are headed for the wrong planet in the system. Worse, it may be as long as ten years at our current speed before we know.