Solar Express

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “If the cubesats are moving, sir…”

  “They should be effective for a sufficient time. I’m not about to define sufficient, Captain.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now … let’s get to the technical details, Captain.”

  Tavoian leaned forward slightly and listened.

  Close to a half hour later, he left the colonel’s office, effectively a classified briefing room, a pleasant expression on his face that belied some of what he felt as he mused over what he had learned, and what he had not. He’d understood what the colonel had said—the mission had been planned for execution close to the time of lunar perigee with Earth. That way the distance between Donovan Base and the counterweight of the Sinese space elevator—which not incidentally also contained a Sinese space force installation—would be close to a minimum. That would reduce the window of Sinese observation as well as the amount of Hel3 required, although Tavoian doubted the second was anywhere close to a major factor in anyone’s mind.

  The ostensible reason for the mission was to obtain detailed information about the Sinese and Indian installations, although the secondary rationale was to establish that space installations only had a ten-kay sphere of “restricted territorial rights.” Theoretically, under the provisions of various treaties, some more than a century old, militarization of any facility or body in space was prohibited, but Tavoian knew that was a provision quietly flouted, although if the Sinese or the Indians used force against his “recon mission,” that would bring the issue into the light. Since such light-bringing might well result in significant damage to the burner he’d be piloting, Tavoian preferred that the issue remain in the darkness of space.

  In less than ten minutes, he was seated, or more accurately weightless and strapped into the control couch of Recon two, linking to the AI and beginning the pre-release checklist. Unlike on transport flights, he was wearing a skintight pressure suit, with his helmet secured under the couch. He had his doubts about the usefulness of the suit. While it would allow him to survive decompression and would provide insulation for several hours, and oxygen for roughly the same time, its usefulness was limited to instants where damage to the burner did not affect the drives, since if he could not return somewhere quickly, he doubted that anyone could rescue him in that time—or would be terribly interested in doing so.

  Before long, the checklist complete, he link-transmitted, “OpsCon, Recon two, ready for release.”

  “Cleared to release, two. Thrusters only. Report when ready for ignition.”

  “Releasing this time. Will report ready for ignition.” Tavoian waited until the sensors confirmed that the lock grapples had released before he pulsed the thrusters. As the burner eased away from the lock ring, he continued to monitor the separation until he had a full kay of clearance. Then he turned the ship over to the AI for orientation.

  Several minutes later, he pulsed, “OpsCon, Recon two, ready for ignition.”

  “Two, cleared for ignition.”

  “Understand cleared for ignition. Commencing ignition this time.” As the burner ignited and the ship began to accelerate, Tavoian was pressed down in the couch.

  While he had to monitor the screens just in case he saw something that the AI did not perceive as a danger, but might be, and to make certain that the AI wasn’t malfunctioning, there wasn’t much to do for the hour and a quarter that the burner accelerated before turnover, and his thoughts turned to the situation in which he was figuratively a pawn, where the major powers were all jockeying for control of space, without ever really admitting it, at least publicly.

  India had established a geostationary station, with an associated installation having an enormous solar power capability, not to mention an armored asteroid manufacturing facility, or worse, at L5. The UAAS was allied with India and likely providing funding for the completion of the Indian space elevator, and as a stepping stone to something. The Sinese had a huge MTF vessel now somewhere around Jupiter, most probably in orbit around Europa, trying to corner a huge deuterium supply. At the same time, India and the Sinese Federation were trading increasing threats. Although the Noram government had said little, the Space Service was arming vessels and training pilots to operate them in a combat mode.

  None of that made Tavoian very happy. He couldn’t exactly argue with a recon mission to make sure matters hadn’t gotten worse. It was just that what he didn’t know worried him even more.

  He even envied Alayna, isolated as she might be on Luna’s Farside. At least she was pursuing something that had a hope of being constructive. He hadn’t heard from her since his last message. He laughed softly. You’re the one who was so slow in replying … and you worry about her not answering instantly.

  Fifteen minutes after turnover, the AI flashed, SHIP ON PARALLEL TRACK OUTBOUND.

  Tavoian called up the coordinates, studying them quickly. Even so, in the instants it took, the other ship was past him, although the closest distance had been slightly less than a hundred kays. From the brief profile gathered by the sensors, the vessel was Sinese and apparently beginning decel.

  The entire notice and passage had happened in less than ten seconds. Although the AI had caught the first indications of the other ship at five thousand kays, their combined relative speeds to each other had assured the brevity of their proximity.

  Another example of why ship-to-ship combat in space is highly unlikely. The only kinds of weapon that might be effective would be beam or energy weapons, and given their attenuation with distance, the power required would be impractical, if not impossible, even for a burner. As the colonel’s briefings had pointed out, however, simple torps, launched from an incoming burner at even higher velocity, were more than sufficient to destroy any space installation, or stationary ship, simply because there wouldn’t be enough warning time. For that matter, an array of golf balls launched at that speed would likely inflict significant structural damage, except torps could make course corrections and golf balls couldn’t.

  “Extrapolate the course line of that ship.”

  Less than a second passed before the AI replied. PROBABILITY EXCEEDS POINT NINE THAT THE SHIP’S DESTINATION IS LUNAR L1.

  Donovan Base? “What was its point of origin?”

  PROBABILITY EXCEEDS POINT NINE FIVE THAT IT DEPARTED FROM COUNTERWEIGHT AREA OF SINESE SPACE ELEVATOR.

  Tavoian immediately burst-squirted an encrypted transmission. OpsCon, Sinese burner on inbound L1 course. Then he asked, “How long would it have taken them to locate us and determine our course?”

  WITH MONITORING OF THE LUNAR LIBRATION POINTS, FIVE MINUTES OR LESS.

  That meant one of two things. Either the Sinese knew or anticipated a burner headed for their station. And either way, they had a ship ready to go the moment they detected something headed their direction.

  Tit for tat? Why now? To prove that they can do what we can? Or to be in a position to retaliate immediately if we do something? Tavoian definitely wasn’t looking forward to his arrival off the Sinese upper orbit station, a term he preferred to the more formal Heavenly Jade Station.

  Two, transmission received. That was the only acknowledgment he received, not that he expected much more.

  As Recon two approached Earth, decelerating steadily, Tavoian thought, not quite idly, about Alayna and what she would have made of seeing two burners trading courses, except she couldn’t have seen that, not from Farside.

  Little more than an hour and ten minutes after turnover, he watched the monitors closely as the AI eased the burner to a halt—comparatively, since it was really holding an orbital position at a distance of twelve kays from the Sinese installation that comprised part of the elevator’s counterweight.

  The sensors’ light-gathering ability was better than that of any human eye, but even so the smaller details of the multispoked wheel were slightly fuzzy in the display Tavoian studied. Docked at the ring above the wheel—above from Tavoian’s perspective, anyway—were eight Sinese fusionjets, more sq
uat-looking than Recon two, given their double-ended construction, with drive nozzles and what amounted to clamshell doors at each end. The Sinese burners’ design was likely more maneuverable, but also more expensive and certainly more complex. All of the burners appeared to be of the same size and design.

  THE SHIP HAS BEEN LASER-TAGGED.

  “Is that intermittent or continuous?”

  A SINGLE TAG. ONE DIRECTED PULSE.

  “No searching? Or was it a ranging pulse?”

  BEAM CHARACTERISTICS INDICATE RANGE PULSE.

  Tavoian checked the monitors again. They indicated twelve point two kays from the closest section of the Sinese station. The sensors continued to gather information, and presumably other data, although the only motion he could see was the rotation of the enormous wheel, nearly a thousand meters across, with a rim a good hundred meters wide and two hundred from top to bottom. He’d seen more than a few images. Although what the sensors displayed was also an image, the comparative closeness and the real-time view somehow made it more impressive.

  While the Sinese station had a significant array of solar panels, perhaps slightly more than ONeill Station, which was smaller, the numbers seemed modest compared to the images the colonel had displayed of the Indian station. Whether the Sinese had extra or emergency panels to deploy there was no way of telling from exterior surveillance.

  For two hours, Recon two remained in position, if with occasional drive pulses to remain in position relative to the station, since Tavoian had positioned the ship farther spaceward, in order to be able to depart without excessive maneuvering or re-orientation, and without encroaching on accepted space territorial limits. During the seemingly endless monitoring period, there were three more single range pulses, as if to verify that the Noram ship had not drifted closer.

  Finally, Tavoian ordered the AI, “Begin orientation for departure.” The orientation was slightly more elaborate than it needed to be technically, because, during the process, just as the AI pulsed all thrusters simultaneously, as if to test them, Tavoian released the first of the two cubesat arrays that girdled the fusionjet. If … if he and the AI had done it correctly, the array would disperse on a vector that would gradually carry each of the tiny satellites on a path past, over, or under the Sinese station, periodically burst-squirting a signal containing information. If any actually hit the station or anything else, the fail-safe nanotech would fry the entire fragile interior system. There had to be a receiver somewhere nearer than Donovan Base, Tavoian surmised, but where that might be he had no idea.

  Even in an orbit above the geostationary level, high-speed maneuvers comparatively close to Earth were limited for reasons of both safety and practicality. Despite strenuous efforts by all powers, there was still a much greater chance of encountering some form of space junk. In addition, for shorter distances the fuel costs tended to outweigh any time savings. That was why it took Tavoian almost an hour to reach a position off his second target, despite the fact that the Indian station was actually moving toward him. Before he even had an opportunity to more than glance at the display image of the statement, there was an incoming transmission on international common.

  “Unidentified Noram spacecraft, this is Dyaus Operations. Do you intend to request permission to dock?” The voice was pleasant, precise, and female. “Or do you need some form of assistance?”

  Tavoian had been briefed on that possibility, and he immediately responded on that comm band. “Dyaus Operations, that is a negative this time. We do not intend to dock. We do not need assistance at this time. We will maintain position clear of your evolutions.”

  “Unidentified craft, request you remain beyond ten kilometers.”

  The Indians remained with the old-style “kilometers” and also referred to space time as GMT, rather than the UTC everyone else called it, although the clock times were identical. Tavoian smiled. “Dyaus Operations, will comply with your request.”

  “Thank you, Recon two.”

  “That didn’t take them long,” commented Tavoian.

  THE NUMBER IS ON THE SPACECRAFT.

  That suggested the Indians had an immediately accessible intelligence database … and that they didn’t regard any Noram spacecraft as a threat, or not as an immediate one. Tavoian smiled wryly for a moment and then began to study the images, strictly for his own benefit, since the RCS and optical sensor systems would record far more than Tavoian’s eyes could see.

  Even so, he was impressed by the upper station, which seemed to have even more solar panels than the colonel had shown him. He could also see yet another installation, apparently still under construction … although there didn’t appear to be anyone or any small craft working on it.

  Modular, awaiting the next section? Possibly a UAAS station? Or the possible particle beam site? Tavoian had no way of knowing.

  During the almost two hours that followed, Tavoian watched. The only ship that departed the station was an Indian burner, somewhat more bulbous than a Noram fusionjet, that undocked and moved away from the station before orienting itself, then accelerated on a course most probably toward L5, according to the AI, suggesting that work, or something, was continuing there.

  Finally, Tavoian transmitted, “Dyaus Operations, we are departing this time. Will avoid all your subsidiary installations.”

  “Have a pleasant trip. Convey our felicitations to the colonel.”

  What do you say to that? “My superiors will appreciate your kind thoughts, Operations. The same to you.”

  “Bon voyage.”

  After a moment, Tavoian shook his head, then ordered, “Commence orientation for departure to ONeill Station.”

  As the AI maneuvered the ship, in the process allowing Tavoian to release the second cubesat array, he couldn’t help but think how strange it was that the Operations officer or director on the Indian geostationary satellite knew about the colonel when Tavoian himself hadn’t even known of the colonel’s existence until he’d reported. He also couldn’t help but wonder what awaited him at ONeill Station.

  21

  DAEDALUS BASE

  14 OCTOBER 2114

  Sunday was like every other “lunar night” day on Farside, at least for Alayna, where she was up early and halfway on edge, fretting that something else might go wrong, even as she knew how unlikely that was. Her present continuing worry was the mirror dust prevention system on the main optical mirror, because if anything went wrong, especially soon, all the blame would fall on her. The system monitors indicated that the controller she had replaced continued to operate without a hitch or glitch. She’d reported the repair, and received a routine acknowledgment from Director Wrae, almost a week later. Both the delay and the routineness of the acknowledgment had irritated Alayna, even though she knew that such repairs were considered a part of the job, but while replacing the controller had certainly been routine, getting to where she could replace it had definitely been anything other than routine.

  She checked the message queue, but there was nothing of personal interest. She did read the news summary, and that was as depressing as always, with one of the lead stories being the Sinese Federation decrying Noram attempts to spy on Sinese space installations, and the Indians countering by suggesting that the Sinese must have had something to hide if they were upset by mere observation. President Yates had no comment. For once, not saying anything was probably the best response. The thankfully image-free issue of HotNews was both disturbing and depressing, especially the brief snippet on the use of lawsuits to prompt internal actions by opposing parties that made snoop-hacking easier.

  One of the unanticipated favorable features about COFAR, Alayna realized, was that while the observation systems could theoretically be trained on nearby human installations, there were few nearby, except the relay satellites at the L2 point—only on Phobos or Deimos or perhaps the L4 or L5 points, although she wasn’t aware of any installations there. But then, perhaps that very lack was a reason why the Noram IG considered cutting fund
ing to COFAR. She doubted that the IG would have sent a team to places where the government was satisfied with the results of government spending.

  “Where is our asteroid/comet?” Alayna asked almost idly.

  “One point seven five AU from the sun, with an inbound velocity of approximately thirty-two kps.”

  “What else have you determined about its size and shape?”

  “The latest observations at best resolution indicate that it is two kilometers in length, and somewhere between 340 and 380 meters wide at its thickest point. It is shaped like it was sliced from a larger sphere. The circular cross-section has a diameter of between one point eight kilometers and two point one kilometers. The object is displayed as an enlarged image on the lower screen. If it was once part of a larger sphere, the object represents less than ten percent of the larger object.”

  Alayna studied the image on the lower screen for several moments. “That’s no off-gassed comet, and it’s certainly not an asteroid.” She almost asked, “Are you certain?” She did ask, “Why didn’t you notify me?”

  “You did not request a verbal update, Dr. Wong-Grant.”

  “What about its albedo? What does that show?”

  “The curved side has an albedo in excess of point nine nine. The flat side has an albedo of point six.”

  Alayna froze. The object couldn’t be a natural asteroid. “Can you estimate the density?”