by Allen Steele
“Look,” Kaufmann said, “we’re here just to study and report, right? That being the case, I see no reason why we can’t continue to survey the rogue from orbit…”
“It’s not just a rogue,” Ramirez said, breaking his accustomed silence. “I believe something else is going on down there.”
All eyes turned toward him. “Yes?” Rauchle asked, his sardonic smirk making another appearance. “Do tell, Dr. Ramirez. What do you believe it is?”
He took a deep breath. “I believe…that is, I think…Spindrift may be a starship.”
For a moment, no one spoke. The rest of the science team stared at him as if he’d just suggested that Spindrift was inhabited by elves who rode flying dragons. Sir Peter coughed in his hand. “That’s an interesting theory, Jared, but…”
“Look at the evidence. The presence of vents at regular intervals…that suggests some large-scale organic process beneath the surface that would necessitate the discharge of gaseous carbon dioxide. The huge equatorial crater…hasn’t that reminded anyone else of the exhaust funnel of a large engine? And the fact that it’s on a trajectory that puts it in a direction leading out from the center of the galaxy…”
“An asteroid transformed into a starship?” Rauchle was openly skeptical. “Tell me, Dr. Ramirez…during your sabbatical, did you develop a taste for twentieth-century science fiction?”
A couple of ill-concealed chuckles from around the table. Ramirez chose to ignore them. “The concept predates science fiction. The British physicist J. D. Bernal came up with the idea in a monograph published in 1929. He—”
“I’m familiar with Bernal’s work,” Sir Peter said. “The World, the Flesh & the Devil. Quite interesting, really…but as I recall, he imagined such ‘globes,’ as he called them, carrying their inhabitants on voyages that would last hundreds of years. Even if that were the case here, why would that be necessary, if the builders had the ability to construct faster-than-light starbridges?”
“I don’t know,” Ramirez replied. “I’m just as puzzled as you are about this. Nonetheless, the presence of one factor doesn’t necessarily rule out the existence of another, does it?”
Cruz and Kaufmann glanced at each other as Rauchle allowed his eyes to roll upward. Before anyone could object, though, Harker cleared his throat. “He has a point. We shouldn’t rule out any possibilities, no matter how far-fetched they may seem…and relying on probes hasn’t gotten us very far.”
Lawrence glared at him. “Mr. Harker, I don’t recall that you’re a member of the science team.”
“No, sir, I’m not.” Harker stared back at the captain with ill-disguised contempt. “Nonetheless, our job is to enable the team to conduct their investigation, is it not?” Lawrence looked away, and Harker continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I think we should send a party down to Spindrift, have them take a closer look. After all, we have the Maria Celeste…”
“And that would distract us from examining the starbridge.” Rauchle shook his head. “No. We shouldn’t divide our efforts.”
“Why not? We have more than enough people aboard to do both at once.” Harker turned back to Lawrence. “I’m willing to lead the ground survey, sir. I’m sure Emily is capable of making a successful landing. If Dr. Ramirez would care to join us…”
“So would I,” Cruz said abruptly. “After all, this is my area.” He looked at the others and shrugged. “He has a point, you know…since we’re here, we might as well cover all the bases.”
Ramirez was faintly surprised to see Cruz so eager to volunteer. On the other hand, Jorge wasn’t as narrow-minded as either Rauchle or Cole; nor, unlike Kaufmann, was he committed to being Rauchle’s protégé. He seemed to have a spirit of genuine scientific curiosity. Or perhaps he just wanted to get off the ship for a little while.
“That would leave everyone else free to study the starbridge,” Harker went on. “A ground survey shouldn’t take more than twenty, maybe twenty-four hours to complete…thirty-six at most, if we decide to investigate more than one site. And since the shuttle is equipped for sorties of that—”
“All right, yes. Of course. You’ve made your point.” Lawrence closed his eyes. “If you really think it’s that important, then please do so, by all means.” He let out his breath as if in annoyance. “Mr. Harker, if neither Dr. Ramirez nor Dr. Cruz has any objections”—both Ramirez and Cruz shook their heads—“then consider them your landing party…along with Lieutenant Collins, provided that she’s willing to do this.”
“I’m sure she is, sir.”
“Of course.” Absently running his fingers through his mustache, Lawrence studied the datapad in his lap for a moment. “Let’s go for launch in…say, oh eight hundred tomorrow, shall we? That should give you adequate time to prepare your team, plus enough time to catch up on your sleep. I daresay you’ll not have much rest once you get there.”
“That’ll be fine, sir. Thank you.” Harker pushed back his chair. “If I may be excused…?”
Lawrence distantly nodded, his eyes still on his pad. Ramirez glanced at Rauchle; he was in whispered conference with Cole, with Kaufmann and Cruz leaning over to listen in. No one paid much attention to him as he quietly followed Harker from the library.
“Mr. Harker…?”
“Ted.” Harker stopped in the corridor to look back at him. “We’re going to be together for a while. Might as well dispense with formalities, right?”
“Yes, we should…thank you.” Ramirez relaxed a little. “Thanks for coming to my aid back there. I was getting a bit overwhelmed.”
“Yes, well…” Harker shrugged. “I’m just as curious as you are. And I’m sure Emily wouldn’t mind having something to do.”
“Of course.” At a loss for what else to say, Ramirez fell silent. Harker gave him a querying look, then started to head for the access hatch. “Just one more thing…do you believe I’m right about all this?”
Harker paused at the hatch. For a moment, he said nothing, then he looked back at him. “The only difference between me and the captain is that I’m willing to listen.”
“The only difference?” Ramirez felt a trace of amusement. “I think not.”
“Show me the evidence, then I’ll believe you.” Harker hesitated, then dropped his voice. “Meet me in the main storage compartment…B4, two decks up…in an hour. We’ll talk more then.”
He disappeared through the hatch, leaving Ramirez in the corridor.
The ship’s stores were located on Deck B, on the opposite side of the access shaft from the hibernation compartment. The room was narrow, its grey walls lined with lockers and cabinets. When Ramirez arrived, he found Harker waiting for him, yet they weren’t alone. Much to his surprise, he found Emily with him as well.
“Shut the hatch, will you?” Harker asked Ramirez as he entered the compartment. “No sense in letting in a draft.” Ramirez couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but he turned to shut the hatch anyway. “Thanks. Did you tell anyone where you were going?”
“Oh, Ted…” Emily shook her head, a wry expression on her face. “We’ve a perfectly sound reason to be here…you said it yourself. We need to collect the EVA equipment.”
“And that we do.” Harker raised the pad in his right hand. “Have the list right here. But it’s also the one place aboard, besides the shuttle, where I can guarantee that we won’t be overheard.”
Emily’s smile disappeared. “You don’t trust our cabins anymore?”
“Not after that little scene with the captain, no.” Turning away from them, Harker slowly walked down the line of cabinets, one eye on his pad’s screen. “He knows now that he can’t trust either of us…and since Jared here suggested this trip, he probably doesn’t trust him very much either.” He glanced at Ramirez. “No offense.”
“None taken. I’ve become used to it.” Ramirez glanced at the hatch behind him. “But if we’re supposed to be gathering equipment, shouldn’t Jorge be here, too?”
“I’ve put D
r. Cruz on a different task. He’s working with Marty to devise some means of clearing away all that frozen CO2 from the crater vent. That should keep both of them occupied for quite some time. And we’ve got reasons why we shouldn’t trust Marty…ah, here we are.”
Tucking his pad beneath his armpit, Harker pulled open a storage locker. Within it hung several coils of nylon rope. “Stack everything over there,” he said, nodding toward a nearby bench as he unloaded the coils and began handing them to Emily. “The rest of the climbing gear should be…”
“Next compartment. I checked the inventory, too.” Emily looked at Ramirez askance. “Always thinks he knows everything and no one else does.” She carried the ropes over to the bench. “So what is it you think we need to talk about, love? Or don’t we already know.”
“Just a sec…” Harker consulted the pad again, then bent to open the drawer Emily had indicated. “Yes, here we are,” he said, pulling out a large, stainless-steel case. “Tool kit. Just what the doctor ordered.” He handed the case to Ramirez. “Take it over there. I’ll inspect it later.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” Emily said. “What do you…?”
“Doesn’t it seem strange that the captain went along so easily with your suggestion that we dispatch a survey team?” Harker wasn’t talking to her, but rather to Ramirez. “After all, Rauchle all but ruled out the possibility that there’s anything down there of any interest. They’re completely obsessed with the starbridge.”
“I thought Jorge and I made our case rather well…”
“And so you did.” Harker shut the drawer, then stood erect and continued to move down the row, studying his pad once more. “But Rauchle is the man in charge, after all, and Sir Peter…”
“Peter Cole is a horse’s ass.” Ramirez couldn’t keep the edge from his voice. “He hasn’t had an original thought in his head in twenty years. And Rauchle likely built his rep on Kaufmann’s work, if I read him correctly.”
“You probably have. And I agree with you about Cole. He and Lawrence got to where they are now because of social class and little else. But the two of them are working together, and since Rauchle is on their side…”
“So what are you getting at?” Emily pointed to another cabinet. “Expedition rations, in here.”
“I know, I know.” Harker regarded the pad with puzzlement, as if trying to understand something he’d found there. “I just think it’s rather…well, convenient…for Lawrence to find a way to get three troublemakers off the ship.”
Emily peered at him. “You’re not suggesting…?”
“What do you think this means?” Harker held out the pad for her to examine. “This line here, see? ‘B4-128C—LRC.’ Never seen that before.”
“Makes sense to me,” Ramirez said. “I mean, there’s no love lost between Tobias and me, that’s for certain. If he wants to…”
“That’s the long-range com platform.” Emily ignored Ramirez as she stepped closer to Harker to peer over his shoulder at the pad. “Thoughtful of someone to send one with us. It’ll help us establish a direct link between you and the ship once you’re on the surface.” Turning away from them, she began to walk down the row of cabinets, reading aloud the serial numbers from each drawer, “B4-127A…B4-127B…B4-127C…here it is.”
She stopped in front of a cabinet, slid it open. Within it was another equipment case. “Heavy sucker,” Harker murmured, grunting with the effort as he pulled it out and placed it on the floor. Opening it, they found a large instrument, its antenna neatly collapsed and folded against its top surface. “Never used one of these before,” he added. “Guess I’ll have to study the specs before we…”
Emily snapped her fingers as if in sudden inspiration. “You know, this gives me an idea. We’re going to be in contact with Galileo, of course, but not continually.”
“No?” Ramirez looked at her. “Why not?”
“Because its orbit will periodically take it around the other side of Spindrift,” she said. “Which means that they’ll have to reestablish contact with us every few hours.” She glanced at Harker. “When that happens, maybe we can tap into another com channel without Lawrence knowing what we’re doing.”
“So we can monitor what’s going on up here while we’re on the ground?” Harker nodded. “Nice idea…but that means we’ll have to get someone here to cooperate with us.”
“Arkady will do it.” Emily smiled. “He doesn’t have any particular love for Ian. After all, the whole bollocks with the LCP breakdown will fall on his head once we get back to Earth. If I can get Arkady to piggyback an active signal to the downlink for the backup flight recorder…”
“Tell me the details later.” Harker closed the LRC case, picked it up, and moved it aside. “Just get it done. If we can have that particular ace up our sleeve, the better I’ll feel about all this.”
Surprised, Ramirez turned to gaze at him. “Not having any reservations, I hope.”
“I’ve been having reservations about this mission since before we even left Earth,” he said quietly. “Now I’m just trying to shave the odds a little more in our favor.”
TEN
JANUARY 8, 2291—EAS MARIA CELESTE
“Everyone strapped down? Suits zipped up?” Although she turned her head to look back, her helmet’s faceplate prevented Emily from seeing the passengers seated behind her. Both Ramirez and Cruz answered in the affirmative, though, and she didn’t need to ask Ted if he’d secured his harness or sealed his flight suit, so she touched the MIC switch on the com panel above her head. “Galileo, this is Maria Celeste. Requesting permission to depart.”
“We copy, Maria.” Arkady’s voice came through her earphones. “Permission granted. Ready to disengage on your mark.”
“Roger that, Galileo. Mark in T-minus thirty.” Emily switched over to internal power, then initiated the primary ignition sequence for the main engines. A quick glance at the idiot lights on the environmental control panel told her that all hatches were secure and cabin air pressure was nominal. Flipping the switch that would retract the docking collar, she heard a hollow thump above and behind her. She reset the comps and loaded the new programs. All safety and rescue systems were on standby; with luck, none of them would be needed.
Emily glanced at the chronometer. Ten seconds left. Time enough for one last detail. Briefly raising her faceplate, she kissed the fingertips of her glove, then gently touched the small medal of St. Christopher she’d attached to a discreet place just above her control yoke. She’d given up on Catholicism a long time ago—or at least it’d been many years since she had last attended Mass—but this was one small ritual she’d maintained ever since her first solo. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ted quietly observing her. He’d seen her do this before; as always he said nothing, instead maintaining a respectful silence. She flexed her fingers within her gloves, took a deep breath, then grasped the yoke.
“Maria to Galileo,” she said. “Mark. Disengage.”
Another thump, a little harder this time, as the docking cradle opened on either side of the shuttle, allowing the spacecraft to float free. “Disengagement complete, Maria,” Arkady said. “You’re on your own.”
“We copy, Galileo.” Through the forward cockpit window, Emily watched the service module as it slowly drifted away, surrounded by a thin halo of frozen oxygen that had broken away from the docking collar. She pulled back on the yoke, and the RCS fired, lifting the shuttle away from the starship. Now she could see Galileo in all its immensity, a giant spindle shoved one-fifth of the way through an enormous torus. Its hull was illuminated by red and green formation lights, and mellow radiance came from the windows of the hab module, but otherwise the ship was cloaked by the shadows of interstellar night.
A brief, almost undetectable shudder as the shuttle passed through the periphery of the Millis-Clement field. She felt herself rise slightly within the confines of her seat. “We’re in the clear, Galileo,” she murmured. “Go for deorbit burn.”
Emily twisted the yoke to the left, firing thrusters to execute a barrel roll. Like a dancer performing a deft pirouette, the Maria Celeste twisted around on its axis, realigning itself within its new sphere of orientation. Through the cockpit windows, Galileo veered sharply away, the starship disappearing beneath the belly of the shuttle until it was replaced by the vast, dark curvature of Spindrift.
“Firing mains on the count of three,” Emily murmured as she laid her right hand upon the thrust bars. “One…two…three…” She eased the bars upward; a faint rumble from behind them, then she was gradually pushed back in her seat as the shuttle’s twin nuclear engines ignited. Spindrift seemed to move closer, gradually but inexorably. She counted silently to ten, then pulled the bars back three-quarters. “Deorbit burn complete. We’re on our way.”
“We copy.” Arkady’s voice had become scratchy with static; in a few minutes, Galileo would be out of direct line of sight with the shuttle. “Have a good flight. We’ll be in touch again soon. Galileo over.”
“Thank you, Galileo. Maria Celeste over.” Until they reached the ground and Galileo’s orbit brought it over the local horizon, this would be their last radio contact with the ship until after they landed.
“Nice job, Emcee.” Harker gave her a brief smile, then loosened his harness and turned to look back at Ramirez and Cruz. “How’re you two holding up?”
“Fine. Just fine.” Cruz’s voice was tight, as if he was holding his breath.