Marshall looked at Cunningham, who very subtly shook his head. Though the rest of the officers looked around at each other for a few seconds, no-one indicated any opposition to his plan.
"Then in that case, let's get to work. We break orbit in four hours, and we'll need to prepare a new exploration schedule. Mr. Quinn, start checking out the small craft for atmospheric operation."
"We can adapt the big shuttles and the fighters without too much trouble. I should have them ready if we round-the-clock by the time we get there."
"Excellent. Lieutenant Dixon?"
The squadron leader straightened in her seat, "Sir?"
"I think you and your pilots are going to get some good flying in after all. Get them working on simulator flights for upper atmospheric operation, just in case. Best-guess specifications for atmosphere and gravity."
She clapped her hands together, nodding, "It's done, sir."
He mused for a second, "Just in case, I want a beacon set up in high orbit around Sagdeev. In case we run into problems, let's make sure the rescue ship knows where we are. See to it, Mr. Cunningham."
"Aye, Captain."
"Anything else?" No-one replied. "Dismissed, then. Good work, Mr. Mulenga."
He grinned as he bolted from the room, no doubt eager to get back to the data streaming in. The rest of the officers filed out of the room, Cunningham pausing at the door, turning for a second, then leaving without saying a word. Dietz remained at his seat, still holding onto the datapad, frowning.
"Quite an opportunity, Mr. Dietz," Marshall said as the door slid shut.
"Indeed."
"But that's not why you agreed with it."
Thinly smiling, Dietz replied, "You had already made up your mind as soon as Mr. Mulenga told you about the discovery of a habitable planet. Nothing any of us would have said would have prevented you."
"That's probably true." He leaned back, "But that doesn't usually stop you. What is it?"
"How much do you know about planetary formation, sir?"
"Probably not as much as I should."
Dietz frowned, "I spent some time studying it in university. After the war I contemplated pursuing that further for a while, before I decided to remain in uniform."
"And?"
"Take Ragnarok, Captain. The probability of such a world existing is not large. The number of coincidences that were required to position every part of that system, and the sub-system of which Ragnarok is a part, are substantial. Nevertheless, I accept it. Whilst the probability might be low, we had to find such a world sooner or later."
"This time it happened to be sooner."
"Precisely, Captain. Now, Mr. Mulenga has found another world orbiting a red dwarf star, a world that is even more suitable for life – specifically, for human life – than anything we have yet found. Comparable with Arcadia, certainly. But the coincidences, Captain! A co-orbital body of this scale close into the star, to prevent the main world being tidally fixed. Right in the middle of the habitable zone. Sir, it defies logic."
"Are you suggesting there is a problem with the data?"
"Lieutenant Mulenga is an extremely competent officer; if he says that this planet exists, I am more than willing to believe him. Yet statistically, it shouldn't exist. An examination of this world is essential, sir; at the very least it will mean a substantial change to our theories of planet formation."
Marshall's brow furrowed, "At least?"
Dietz hesitated before replying, "We have attempted terraforming on one occasion, Captain. While the effects were not favorable..."
"To say the least."
"We still made the attempt, sir. And a terraforming project is to be restarted on Ragnarok, also. We have been spacefarers for two centuries, Captain, and already we are remaking planets to better suit ourselves. If we are doing this, others might also."
His eyes widening, Marshall replied, "You know what you are suggesting."
"Yes."
"Not only might there be an intelligent race out here, only the fourth starfaring race ever contacted, but this race might both have the ability to terraform planets and have environmental requirements broadly compatible with our own."
"Yes, sir. That is what I am suggesting."
Standing up, Marshall started to walk around the room, "Three other spacefaring races. One of them was just mining asteroids, another was collecting data on a slow pass through our systems, and the third..."
"We know only what the United Nations told us. All of them were contacted by their representatives; our contact with any of them has been limited."
"This could be the greatest opportunity we've ever faced. Or the greatest security risk."
Dietz nodded, "That is precisely my fear, Captain. We have to investigate this planet immediately, and if we do find signs of intelligent inhabitation..."
"Then we must warn the Confederation immediately."
"Yes, sir. I will add a notation in my log that I support your decision to deviate from our orders, and will add my reasonings."
"You don't have to do that, Lieutenant. This is my decision, and the consequences are mine."
"I know that, sir. Nevertheless, I will enter the notation as I have indicated."
Grabbing Dietz's shoulder, Marshall replied, "Thank you, Mr. Dietz." He paused, then continued, "I don't think there is any need to talk to the rest of the crew about this, not yet. Better brief the senior staff, though. Quietly."
"I'll prepare a report."
"For the present, this is a standard survey. We'd better go through the First Contact protocols again, just in case."
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed, then, Lieutenant."
Dietz stood up, striding out of the room, leaving Marshall alone in the briefing room. He frowned as he looked at the planet still slowly rotating on the monitor, computer-simulated oceans, clouds...a world where human beings could breathe the air and drink the water. Where the temperature was tolerable. An ideal new home for mankind. Assuming someone – or something – else hadn't managed to get there first.
Chapter 11
Alamo flew over Sagdeev on its final orbit of the planet; there was a sense of eager anticipation across the ship as word had spread of their destination. Caine sat in the command chair, Kibaki sitting next to her in the watch officer's chair. Steele was sitting at the guidance control chair, running over the course to the egress point for one last time, calculations running up and down the viewscreen.
She tapped a button on her console, "Guidance to crew. Stand by for acceleration in two minutes." She turned to face Caine, "All decks ready for acceleration, Lieutenant."
"You have the call, Midshipman." Caine turned to Kibaki, "Alpha Watch will be arriving in a few minutes; this one hasn't been timed well."
"Want my people to finish the maneuver?"
"Makes most sense. Once we're set on course, we'll do the switch. It shouldn't take more than ten minutes."
The door slid open, and Zabek walked out, making her way over to the command chair. Steele glanced over her shoulder at the arriving midshipman then returned to focus on her station.
"You're early, Midshipman," Caine said.
"Shift chance was scheduled for just after the burn, ma'am."
"You hurried for nothing, I'm afraid," Kibaki said, "We won't be handing over until the burn is completed."
"On the other hand," Caine said, "given that the Alpha guidance is here." She paused for a second, glancing up at the clock. "Take guidance, midshipman."
Steele turned, a frown on her face, "Course implementation in seventy seconds, ma'am."
"If everything is prepared, that's no problem. Zabek, take the helm."
Zabek walked over to the guidance station, her control key already in her hand. Reluctantly, Steele yielded the helm, standing by the side of the console as Zabek took her seat, rapidly working her hands over the systems, watching the controls move to her own custom settings.
"Thirty seconds to burn, ma'am," Zab
ek said.
Caine settled back in the chair, watching the two of them carefully. Zabek was eager, poised, ready; Steele was still hovering around, reluctant to leave the bridge. Her stomach turned over slightly as the rotation slowed to a stop, the brief sensation of floating ready to be replaced by acceleration from Alamo's drive. She thought about reaching for a pill, but decided not to bother; it would only be five seconds.
"Malfunction," Zabek said, her voice raising. "Er, primary override's engaged."
"Bypass," Caine said, calmly.
Zabek looked over the controls, working through the problem, while Caine leaned over her shoulder, pointing at a control section. Zabek shook her head, and started typing in an override sequence, as the optimum firing time came, and went. The countdown clock ticked on, and Kibaki made to stand up, but Caine put her arm out to stop him.
"Let her work this one. We've still got ninety-two seconds."
"Damn it, it's that one," Steele said, reaching for a control.
"Not on this configuration. I've got this."
Steele pushed past her and tapped a three-button sequence, and an array of lights flashed from red to green. The door to Marshall's office opened, a stern look on the Captain's face as he carefully drifted out, then grunted as the engine fired, bringing gravity back. Zabek turned to look at the officer's behind, a mixture of fury and embarrassment on her face.
"What happened, Lieutenant?" Marshall said to Caine.
"Minor malfunction. We're on course just, er," she looked up, "twelve seconds late. I was just about to get Quinn onto it."
"Tell him to spend less time running around fixing Dixon's fighters and more time on the primary systems. Carry on."
The Captain returned to his office, and all eyes turned back to the front of the bridge. Steele was still leaning over the guidance console, one hand resting on Zabek's shoulder and another on the console. The frustrated Zabek was trying to work, but was obviously flustered, finding it difficult to concentrate while someone was breathing down her neck.
"Midshipman Steele," Caine said.
She turned her head, "Yes, ma'am?"
"Your shift is over. You can leave the bridge, now."
"Ma'am," she replied.
"Now." Caine turned to Kibaki, "All yours, Joe."
"For about three minutes, anyway," the gray-haired watch officer replied.
Steele walked haughtily towards the elevator, Caine following her, taking a last look at Zabek sitting at the controls. She seemed to be relaxing a bit now, monitoring the course and implementing the corrections required to get Alamo back on the correct flight path. Hopping in before the door closed, she tapped for her office. Steele was about to push a button herself, but Caine shook her head. The trip was silent, the doors opening on a lower deck. Gesturing towards her office, the two of them walked down the corridor.
The room was barely big enough for two, pictures of various space scenes decorating the wall in holo-frames, cycling from one image to another in a random pattern. The desk was a mess; Caine swept her hands across it to make a space, sending paperwork of various types to the sides. Steele stood at attention, facing her,
"You wanted to see me, ma'am?"
"Not particularly, but you didn't leave me much choice up there. What did you think you were doing?"
"Technically, I was still on duty as guidance control officer, ma'am, and we were pushing past optimum firing time."
"So you decided to just take action yourself."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I shouldn't have to tell you how out of line that is."
Steele looked up at the wall, "I judged the ship to be at crisis, and that action needed to be taken instantly."
"You were showing off." Caine paused. "I'm assigning you to work with Lieutenant Quinn down in engineering for the next ten days. Mr. Kibaki can handle guidance control for a while." Not waiting for a protest, she held up a hand, "Dismissed, Midshipman."
Saluting, Steele turned on her heels and walked out of the room. Caine shook her head and started to log the shift change; as she expected, Kibaki had no objection to performing double duty for a while. She started to work on the ever-increasing backlog of paperwork, wishing that she'd thought to make Steele work on it, when her communicator beeped.
"Caine here."
"Marshall here, Deadeye. I've just had a duty roster change logged; Steele's been relieved of bridge duty of the last ten days."
"That's right, I did it myself."
"Does this have something to do with what I, erm, didn't see happening on the bridge when we made the burn?"
She nodded, "I can't let that sort of behavior take place without comment, Danny. What would you have done?"
"Given her a stiff talking to about protocol. Forget about Steele; what are you doing about Zabek?"
"Zabek?"
He audibly sighed, "She froze up on the bridge, Deadeye. And she's not exactly the star performer of this particular crop of middies, if I'm honest. I think you're being too hard on Steele – but I put you in charge, and if you think it appropriate, I'm not going to question that. Zabek, on the other hand, is on the verge of becoming an issue of ship's safety, and that's something I can't afford to ignore."
"I'm not asking you to, Danny. She just needs a little more time to settle in."
"Look, I understand. She scraped through the Academy just about wash-out level, and you want to give her another chance. Fair enough, I approve. But not all of these stories have happy endings, Deadeye. Have you considered that maybe she just can't cut it as a bridge officer?"
"I thought about it."
"And what are you going to do about it? Look at it from a skills point of view; you just relieved the best guidance officer of the rotation in favor of the worst."
"Danny..."
"Steele's essentially taking hendecaspace off. Fine, she'll be back on duty by the time we re-enter normal space. Zabek needs watching, Deadeye. Like a hawk."
"I'll handle it."
Marshall's voice lowered, "I know Steele's a bit of an arrogant ass, but a lot of us were back when we were kids. That'll pass in time."
"I know, Danny. I'll ease up on her a bit."
"Just remember that it was us ten years ago. Marshall out.”
Caine sat at her desk, pulling out the files again, going over the reports. Dixon really had been profligate while they'd been orbiting Sagdeev; she'd seen squadrons in combat tours with less exhaustive parts requirements. Maybe that was the answer to the Steele problem. Closing down her workstation, she walked out of her office down to the elevator, punching for engineering. The door opened to reveal the usual bustle of activity that preceded an hendecaspace jump; Quinn was sitting in the corner of the room at a workstation, preparing a maintenance schedule for the fighters.
"Hey, Caine," he said, waving her over.
"Busy?"
The engineer looked around the room at the swarming technicians and shook his head, "Nah, everything under control. Anything I can help you with? You don't come down here that often."
"One of my midshipmen."
"Steele?"
"Got it in one."
"What do you want me to do?"
"I've assigned her to work with you down here for a few days."
"Pointless makework? I've got piles of that around here. Some of it might even turn out to be some use once in a while. Any preferences?"
Caine looked from left to right, uncomfortably, "Actually, I want you to give her something important."
"I've got lots of jobs like that as well, Lieutenant."
Tapping the screen, she said, "All that fighter maintenance work? I'd say you need a liaison between you and the squadron, to help you co-ordinate everything. That'll free you up to handle everything else. Captain seems to think we've got something big coming up."
His face dropped, "I suppose...that does make some sense. It's not necessary, though, I can handle it."
"Ah, your little thing with Lieutenant Dixon," she s
aid, quietly.
"What thing?" he hissed.
She smiled, "Come on, you've been following her around like a puppy dog since she came on board."
"It's not like that at all." His face reddened.
"Why are you blushing, then?"
Sighing, he replied, "Fine, I'll assign her as small ship liaison. At least it'll keep her out of my hair a bit."
"Everyone wins." Her communicator chipped twice, urgently. "Caine here, go ahead."
"Deadeye, get up here right now," Marshall said, quickly.
"On my way." She nodded at Quinn, "Duty calls."
She made the elevator in four steps; it stopped half-way to the bridge to admit a slightly confused Orlova at the security deck. She looked at Caine with a quizzical eye, but she could only shrug her shoulders in response. Alpha watch was on duty on the bridge now, and Ryder gestured the two of them towards the captain's office. Zabek's eyes were fixed to her console, with occasional glances up at the viewscreen. As the door slid open, they saw Marshall sitting behind his desk clutching a datapad, smiling."
"Sit down, both of you," he said. They looked at each other and took the proffered seats. "I've been doing a little digging."
"Something about GJ 2097?" Caine asked. "We really ought to give it a better name."
"That missile you found, Sub-Lieutenant," Marshall began. "We sent a probe in to take a closer look. Couldn't get the serial number, but we did get an approximate age. It was launched ten years ago."
"So?" Caine said, before a light dawned. "That missile was withdrawn thirteen years ago. Problems with the targeting."
"Precisely, I remember that whole mess. One of the armament corporations got into some trouble about it. That's not the important thing, though; do you know what the last ship outfitted with those missiles was?"
"Hercules," Orlova guessed.
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