Paradigm 2045- Trinity's Children

by Robert W. Ross

  Sokolov looked up from her console, “He might enjoy that, sir. I suggest putting him on a whiskey-free diet.” She smirked at James, as he affected a look of sheer horror.

  Chao sidled up beside Charlotte and bent close as she settled into the command deck’s central chair. “There’s been a fair bit of whistling past the graveyard humor going on this morning.”

  “Understandable,” she said, then swung the chair’s tablet interface up and around. Omandi tapped through several menus. Seconds later, both Karishma and Richard appeared on the screen. She could see their nervousness, even through the small video windows. Charlotte smiled warmly and said, “I assume you two would prefer to stay at your respective stations rather than the command deck?”

  Karishma nodded. “I don’t expect a problem, since I’ve run the reactor up to eighty percent in our pre-launch tests, but you just never know how things will react in real life. We’re going to be accelerating to escape Earth’s gravity well, powering plasmatic shields to protect us from a collapsing volcano, and someone might try and nuke us. I’d feel better if I could stay with my engines, Captain.”

  “You are such the optimist,” said Charlotte, then shifted gears when she saw Karishma’s expression change. “No, don’t get defensive. I was just trying to lighten the mood. You are a pragmatist which is just what I need in my chief engineer.”

  Omandi saw Patel relax and the younger woman said, “Thank you, Captain.” She paused, then added, “If you are looking for unbridled optimism that is fueled by prodigious ignorance, isn’t Branson available?”

  Charlotte’s peripheral vision caught Chao nodding with appreciation at the jibe, but he said nothing. Omandi allowed herself a faint smile and said, “I’ll keep that in mind, Karishma, thanks. Please stand-by to blow the roof on my order.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Charlotte shifted her eyes to Richard Carpenter who now appeared occupied with one of the med-bay’s beds. “Doctor, what about you? Same story?”

  He looked up. “No, sir, I’ll be there in just a moment. I think it’s better for me to be close to most of you during launch, just in case any of Karishma’s pragmatism proves prophetic.” He turned fully around to face the med-bay’s communications panel and Charlotte felt the intensity of his gaze. “One-on-one, I think I’m probably better than the technology in this med-bay, but I’m not very scalable.” He smiled. “There’s just one of me, but if someone has an emergency on the command deck, I want to be there. Annchi has been cross trained on all the equipment here so if you want someone to man the—”

  Charlotte saw Chao stiffen beside her and she reached over to tap his arm. He looked at her and she shook her head slightly before addressing Richard. “No, Doctor, that won’t be necessary for this one. I’d rather have both of you here. Everyone who could possibly be in need of medical assistance will be within three feet of you both, with the exception of Karishma, and the command deck is closer to engineering than is the med-bay.”

  He nodded. “Understood, Captain. We’ll both be there in less than five.”

  Carpenter reached up to tap his communications panel and disappeared from Charlotte’s tablet. She swung it aside and inhaled deeply. “Okay, folks, this is it. Let’s do a final station check with everyone.” She glanced up at Chao. “Commander, would you mind taking your seat? You looming over me blocks my view of Misha while doing nothing to decrease the general stress of the situation.” Keung gave her a sheepish expression then circled around to sit at her right.

  Charlotte swiveled her chair away from him and stared across the command deck to where Damien sat. The android’s hands were moving across two different consoles, but stopped when she called out to him. “Science station ready?”

  He turned and said, “Yes, sir. I’ve analyzed the reactions that are likely to result from our launch, and have fed those scenarios to Lt. Branson’s station. I have also created a number of automated sensor sweeps that will begin searching for Nerr’ath’s pod signature once we have cleared both Earth and Luna.”

  Omandi nodded. “How long do you expect it will take for us to lock on to that signal?”

  “There was no way to predict where her pod might be at the time of our launch. We suspect it will be at, or near, Earth in two days time since that is when our grace period expires. We know the pod is traveling sub-light which means we should detect a radioactive drive signature somewhere between three minutes and eight hours.”

  “Good, that should give us plenty of time to get its attention and demonstrate FTL prior to the deadline.” Charlotte looked past Damien to the front-left of the command deck. “Linnea, you all set?”

  The young woman’s face appeared drawn and Charlotte watched as she swallowed hard before answering. “Bladerunner’s systems are doing better than I am. Technically speaking, everything is perfect. I can identify any repeating radiation wave that might indicate a communications frequency, then pipe it through the comm’s array. I’ve tested it on terrestrial AM, FM, and digital radio signals, all perfect.”

  Charlotte smiled knowingly at her communications officer. “So why do you look like you’re about to throw up on my floor?”

  Linnea looked around self-consciously but saw only supportive glances from her crew mates. She sighed. “It’s the translations. I’m still not sure about the translations.”

  Chao focused on her and said, “Ensign Sorenson, how many languages did you pick up during your tests?”

  Linnea looked at her display a moment then replied, “Two-hundred and twelve, sir.”

  “And of those, how many could you not translate?”

  She looked confused, and shot Omandi a look, but the captain simply said, “Did you not understand Commander Keung’s question?”

  Linnea shook her head, “Uh, no sir, I understood it.”

  Charlotte smiled, “Then perhaps you should answer him.”

  Sorenson squared her shoulders and said, “Zero, sir.”

  “Zero,” he repeated, then added, “are you telling me that out of over two hundred languages, at least one hundred eighty of which must have been rather obscure, you were able to translate all of them?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That must have taken a long time,” he said, and Linnea noticed how smirks started spreading across a number of other faces. She focused on them for several seconds, then sighed. “No, it didn’t take a long time at all, Commander. I translated each in real-time.” She paused, then said, “Which is why both Branson and Sokolov think I’m being an idiot.”

  James spun his chair around to face Keung and Omandi. “I did not say that.”

  “I didn’t say you did,” huffed Linnea, “I said you thought it.”

  “I was definitely thinking it,” began Sokolov, then added, “but I’ll also say it. You are being an idiot, Barbie. You won’t choke. If that kind of negative thinking is bumping around in that blonde head of yours, you should just dump that shit right now.”

  “Seems like sound advice to me,” said Keung, “What do you think, Captain?”

  “I think,” said Omandi slowly, “that it’s a good thing our resident telepath can’t read us the way she can others, Commander. If she knew our thoughts, we would have been deprived of Lt. Sokolov’s colorful but accurate advice.” Charlotte locked eyes with Linnea and said, “There’s no one I’d rather have in that chair right now than you, Ensign. You’ll be fantastic…right?”

  The young woman smiled, as she felt a wave of confidence wash through her. “Yes, damn right I will be. I’m going to be fantastic.”

  “I’m going to be fantastic, too, if anyone is interested,” offered James. “I’ve got over one-hundred and twenty navigation packages created, ranging from FTL to gravity-assist only. I’ve got forty-two combined offensive and defensive routines that I can execute individually or stack in whatever sequence I need.” Branson stroked his navigation console with clear affection, then said, “I can make Bladerunner purr like a kitten, run like a cheetah, or
charge like a lion. She’s straining at the bit to please her one true love, James Thomas Branson.”

  A slightly awkward silence descended on the command deck for several seconds, until Misha cleared her throat and said, “Apparently the ship sees something in our pilot that has been missed by the approximately three point eight billion women who currently reside on this planet, including me. Captain, would you like a tactical assessment?” Charlotte barely managed to keep a straight face. She nodded, and Misha continued. “Excellent, I’ll be brief. Bladerunner is bristling. We have four railguns, two each, fore and aft. We have two torpedo tubes and a complement of one hundred nuclear enabled torpedos. Finally, we have an array of twelve HID emitters that provide three-hundred and sixty degrees of coverage. In short sir, no-one on Earth better fuck with us.”

  “Overconfidence has gotten more people killed than lack of capability,” said Keung.

  Misha inclined her head to the commander. “Quite right, sir, but you ignored my caveat. I said no-one on Earth. I have far less confidence we can stand toe-to-toe with whatever Nerr’ath’s ship is packing should it choose to view us as hostile. However, that does bring me to the defensive portion of my briefing. Bladerunner’s plasmatic shield emitters are paired with each HID weapon so we’ve got twelve of those that are designed to absorb four exa-joules of combined energy. Of course, each shield segment can’t absorb that much, but there is some overlapping protection, so I’d say each of the twelve can absorb up to five-hundred peta-joules.” She paused and noticed the blank expressions, then shrugged, “It’s a lot, but they, whoever they are, might have a lot, so color me cautiously optimistic.”

  “At risk of becoming the butt of even more blonde jokes, can anyone give me some frame of reference for,” Linnea paused as she recalled Misha’s comment, “…for what the hell five exa-joules might be.”

  “Five exa-joules…” said Annchi, as she and Rick exited the mag-lift. The young woman glanced up for a second, then said, “That’s the equivalent of about one-thousand nuclear bombs, well, assuming the theoretical maximum achieved by a depleted uranium tamper rather than lead.”

  “Why does she know that?” asked Charlotte.

  “She’s a strange child,” replied Chao, “always has been. I mean, I love her of course, but strange.”

  Annchi circled around to Omandi’s right, leaned forward to kiss Chao’s cheek, and lilted, “Why thank you, Father.” She caught Omandi’s eye and added, “He always says the nicest things, doesn’t he?”

  Charlotte repressed a smile, and glanced over to Richard. “Rick, any issues to report?”

  “No, sir. Med-bay is set on automatic and both my and Annchi’s nanite flora are maxed out. If anything, she’s gotten worse at healing others, but I can borrow from her swarm, if need be, and temporarily redirect them.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” murmured Charlotte, then shifted the tone and direction of her voice. “Coleman, start the clocks. All stations authorized to place an emergency launch hold. Keep an open channel to engineering.” Instantly, three digital clocks appeared across the top of the main view screen, each station console, and every hand terminal. All three began counting down.

  Ceiling Detonation and Initial Launch: four minutes, fifty-nine seconds.

  Clear Earth and Luna Gravity Well: eleven minutes, fifty-nine seconds.

  Grace Period Expiration: forty-seven hours, twenty-five minutes, thirty-three seconds.

  “Karishma,” said Charlotte, “are you with us and do you have the clocks?”

  The chief engineer responded immediately. “I’m here and I see them. Confirming four minutes, fifty-two seconds to cavern detonation and launch. Transferring shield controls to tactical.”

  “I’ve got them,” said Misha, crisply. “Tactical station acknowledges I can exceed reactor redline to maintain shields.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t need that,” offered Chao.

  “From your lips to God’s ears,” whispered Charlotte.

  “Viewports dimming to twenty-five percent opacity,” said Linnea. “You are go for maximum shields.”

  “Roger that,” replied Misha. “Max shields in five…four…three…two…one. We are at max shields.” The ship rocked on its pylons. Everyone squinted as the entire command deck was bathed in a bright orange glow.

  “Shit,” yelled Linnea, “decreasing opacity to fifteen percent.” The glare subsided and Sorenson spun to face the command chairs. “Sorry, sirs, twenty-five percent always worked fine in the sims. I’m not sure what—”

  “That’s my bad,” interrupted Karishma, “The silicate in the cavern ceiling is causing photonic feedback that I didn’t account for when programming the simulation. It won’t affect the shields. We’re still good. Three minutes, ten seconds to launch.”

  The ship’s emergency klaxon sounded and everyone froze, for a fraction of a second, then the daemon’s face appeared in a corner of the primary view screen. “Captain Omandi, previously set warning parameters have been met and exceeded.”

  “Fuck,” grumbled Charlotte, “and this is why hope is not a strategy. Which parameters?”

  “All parameters have been exceeded, Captain,” replied the daemon evenly. “Specifically, each of the U.N. Security Council’s five member nations have activated military assets. All of those assets are focused on your current location.”

  “What specific assets?” asked Chao.

  “From the Russian Federation, four MiG 57 fighters and—” The daemon paused, then said, “Stand-by, new priority information. Three surface to surface nuclear launches detected, one each from the United States, Russian Federation, and People’s Republic of China.”

  “How strong did you say those shields were?” asked Branson. “I wasn’t really paying attention to Misha.”

  The security officer muttered something unintelligible, but Charlotte’s voice cut through the ensuing chatter like a knife, “Daemon, earliest time to impact?”

  “Six minutes, forty-two seconds.”

  Charlotte felt the room’s collective tension decrease as all eyes focused on the thirty-seven seconds that remained on their launch counter. “Well,” she said, “I guess Karishma shouldn’t have worried about what those guys might have found in this cavern after we left.”

  “Thanks for always being a glass-half-full kind of Captain,” said the chief engineer, then added, “Ten seconds. Cavern charges primed. Detonation control transferred to command chair, linked with launch engines, and set to one-tenth second delay. All yours, Captain.”

  Charlotte’s finger hovered over the pulsing blue detonation button as the dozen simulations she’d run with her crew danced through her mind. She felt her lips move silently while the numbers continued to tick down. Five…four…three…two…one…

  The button glowed green. Charlotte Omandi sent up a prayer, and let down her finger.

  The cavern exploded and rocks, the size of cars, vaporized against the orange glow of Bladerunner’s plasmatic shields. Charlotte grunted as the ship shot upward through fire and molten rock. She looked to her right and asked, “You ok?”

  Keung gave a curt nod but said nothing. “He hates this part,” said Annchi, and Charlotte slowly turned to face the young woman. She smiled brightly, and seemed completely unaffected by the oppressive force of their ever increasing acceleration. Annchi easily lifted one glowing hand to point at her father. “He doesn’t seem to mind normal thrust accelerations, or decelerations, but escaping gravity-wells makes him go all pasty.”

  Omandi heard her first officer growl something, but she continued to stare at Annchi in amazement. “How are you pointing like that? I can barely lift my arm.”

  “My nanites have interpreted the increased pressure as a threat and are attempting to compensate. It looks more impressive than it is. Mostly all they can do is—”The ship rocked violently left, then evened out a second later.

  “We’re out,” called Branson through clenched teeth. “Secondary acceleratio
n’s going to kick in about…” Groans could be heard throughout the command deck as James added, “…now. Stabilizing at 4-gees. We should pass beyond orbital altitude in seven minutes.” The emergency klaxon sounded again and James yelled, “New problem, Captain. Those nukes that were going to arrive too late, well they are reentering atmosphere now. We’re being painted with targeting lasers.”

  The daemon’s face appeared. It broke apart and reformed in rapid succession. Over time, Charlotte had learned that meant the AI was either thinking through something complex or was its version of frustrated.

  “I have a targeting solution,” said Sokolov, then corrected herself, “a partial targeting solution. I can take out one of the three. Strike that, two. The daemon is feeding data to my console. Now I’ve got all three.”

  “What are my options?” asked Omandi.

  “About thirty percent chance to hit each with the railgun. It’s not designed for tiny, fast moving, targets.”

  “That’s less than a three percent chance to disable them all,” said Damien.

  “HID arrays,” offered Chao.

  “Eighty percent or better,” replied Misha, “but we’ve got to let those fast movers get pretty damn close and there’s no guarantee the UN won’t just detonate one, or more, in hopes the resulting EMP will knock out our electronics.”

  “Will it?” asked Omandi.

  Coleman materialized on the command deck just to the left of the view screen. He turned to Charlotte and said, “Captain, the Bladerunner is fully hardened against the amount of radiation that would be generated by those missiles. However, the shields do not operate as predictably within atmosphere. There is more than a significant chance that a primary system could be damaged beyond immediate repair if we are struck by one or more of those nuclear weapons.”

  “What the hell?” yelled Misha. “I’ve lost weapons control. It’s been transferred to—”

  “Captain Omandi,” said the daemon evenly, “I have assessed an unacceptable risk to Doctor Howard’s prime directive. Optimal reaction is an initial six volleys from the fore mounted railgun, followed by sustained bursts from all front and side facing HID arrays.”