by CJ Williams
“I am quite serious, Captain Gus. There are seven other cannons to choose from. Please use caution in case there is another failure of the breechings.”
The warning did nothing to improve his mood. “Can’t this wait?” he asked.
“It cannot. If you are not able to carry out the task, I must terminate our star drive. I suspect we may be nearing a stability threshold, but the diagnostic module is part of my autopilot system. This is my only way of identifying our superluminal stability.”
“What does that even mean?” Gus demanded. “Everything feels normal. What’s not stable?”
Alyssa’s voice took on a professorial tone. “My sensors indicate the ship is experiencing a slight flutter. If you place your hand against the deck, you may sense the vibration.”
Hannah joined Gus on the deck, wondering aloud what the problem was.
“I don’t feel anything,” Gus complained after explaining Alyssa’s concern.
Hannah lay down and put her cheek flat against the deck’s surface. “I can,” she concluded. “It’s really faint though.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Gus asked. “This ship is built like a tank, and we suffered through a lot worse than a little shimmy.”
“My concern is not for the vessel,” Alyssa said. “It is for the fabric of spacetime around us.”
“What?” Gus said. “You lost me on that one.”
“As I have explained, our star drive creates what Miss Yoshimoto refers to as a warp bubble. The manifold dilation around the vessel allows us to slip through the universe at speeds far greater than those understood by your culture.”
“I got that part. I don’t see what you mean by concern for spacetime.”
“In perfect flight, the warp bubble, which is actually shaped more like a flattened ellipsoid, is absolutely symmetrical, allowing us to travel without harming the environment we are passing through. But if the bubble becomes unstable in any way—that is, if it becomes deformed—then our passage can have an effect external to the bubble by creating a local energy disruption.”
“You mean like a bow wave?”
“Your analogy is not entirely accurate but yes, like a bow wave. The problem is that our bow wave may extend millions of miles in front of our direction of travel. If not corrected, the force begins to multiply. Records of early experimentation with star drives have examples of actual stars being destroyed by uncorrected bow waves. It is vital that we perform a stability test.”
“I’ll do it,” Hannah offered.
“No,” Gus said. “At the moment, your place is behind the wheel. I’ll fire the damned cannon.”
Gus stomped down to the gun deck. It took extra time to clean the next gun in line. “Ready?” he barked when the gun was ready to fire.
“I am ready,” Alyssa said. “Miss Schubert has been notified.”
Gus yanked the lanyard firmly, and the cannon discharged with a boom as advertised. After the gun recoiled and the carriage came to a stop, he looked out through the gun port. Instead of the usual sharp streak of light disappearing behind the ship, there was instead a rippling flash of brilliance that spread out as far as the eye could see; a thunderstorm of cosmic scale.
A warning horn sounded, and Alyssa’s voice filled the gun deck. “All hands, prepare for emergency star drive shutdown in sixty seconds. Take cover and brace for impact. This is not a drill.”
“What the hell?” Gus shouted. He charged up to the main deck and met Hannah hurrying down from the quarterdeck.
“What’s going on?” she asked fearfully.
“I have no idea,” he shouted over Alyssa’s repeated warning. “Up, go back up.” He pushed Hannah in front of him, and they both rushed to the captain’s cabin.
“Stay clear of flying objects,” Alyssa intoned. “Twenty seconds to emergency termination of the star drive.”
He picked up Kyoko and laid her on his bed against the wall. “What’s going on?” she asked weakly.
Gus ignored her questions and told Hannah, “Get next to her.” He took the mattress from Kyoko’s bed and jammed himself against Hannah, using the mattress as a cover.
“What’s going to happen?” Hannah asked.
“Hell if I know but we’ll find out in a second.”
Alyssa counted down. “Three. Two. One. Star drive terminated.”
Gus lay still for a moment, waiting for the catastrophe. The warning klaxon fell silent.
“All hands resume normal operations,” Alyssa announced.
After ten seconds of silence, Gus rose from the bed. Nothing was out of place in his cabin. “Are you kidding me!” he shouted at the AI. “Alyssa, what the hell was all that about?”
“Captain Gus,” Alyssa replied in a subdued tone. “Your presence is required on deck. We have caused substantial damage to the star system in our path.”
“What?”
“Please report to the navigation room,” Alyssa said urgently.
“Take care of Kyoko,” Gus told Hannah. “I’ll see what this is all about.”
*.*.*.*
Gus stood in front of the control panel inside the navigation room. “Okay, explain what you’re talking about,” he growled. “And tell me why you just scared the crap out of us for nothing.”
“Please note the video display to your left. That is a solar system in our path that we are approaching.”
The screen showed a graphic of the local sun with the orbital paths of seven planets as elliptical lines. Between the fifth and sixth planets, instead of a single line for a planetary orbit, thousands of dots circled the sun. It was an asteroid belt similar to that between Mars and Jupiter in Earth’s solar system. In this case, however, there was a huge blank space directly in line with the ship’s bow, as though a giant plow had shoved all the asteroids aside.
“We did that?” Gus asked, surprised by the enormous destructive force.
“That is correct. I am trying to determine if this is an inhabited system. According to the pirate’s database, it is not, but their information may be out of date.”
Hannah joined him in the navigation room. “Kyoko is okay. She’s awake but pretty much out of it.”
Gus nodded. “What do we do now?” he asked Alyssa. “Have we lost our star drive capability? Are we stuck here?”
“Negative. Normal procedures for recovering from an unstable warp bubble is to stand down for twenty-four hours. That will allow the framework of conformal gravity in this region to settle. At that time, we can resume star drive operations.”
At least he could grab a few hours of sleep; that much was a plus.
“How do we keep this from happening again?” Gus asked.
“Instability builds up over time if the sails are not kept in trim. I suspect that task is beyond your capacity; no offense intended.”
“Understood.”
“I recommend that for the remainder of the journey we stop every three days for a twenty-four-hour cooldown period. The resulting delay for repeated speed-up and slowdown maneuvers will extend our voyage by another twelve days.”
Hannah nodded her agreement with the proposal.
“All right,” Gus said. “With Kyoko on the mend, let’s go with that. Hannah, you’ve got the conn. I’m going to hit the bunk.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
“Before you do that,” Alyssa said. “I strongly suggest that you stow the star sail to prevent damage. We do not have a replacement.”
“I’ll do it, Grandfather,” Hannah said. “Please go to bed and rest.”
Hannah was becoming a real trooper. It made life a lot easier.
*.*.*.*
“Wake up!” Hannah shouted. “Pirates are coming!”
“What?” Gus groaned in misery. Every muscle in his body ached. “How long have I been asleep?”
“About ten minutes,” Hannah said, still shaking him. “Wake up!”
“I’m awake!” Gus said angrily, pushing her away. “I’m coming.” Damn! Could they not cat
ch one single break on this stupid boat? He looked around the cabin. “Where’s Kyoko?”
“Behind you,” Hannah said, pointing past his shoulder.
That’s right. He hadn’t even taken the time to move her back to her own bed. He’d just collapsed.
“I’m coming,” he said again. “Alyssa, what is the status?”
“Seven starships are approaching on a bearing of three-three-zero. I am not familiar with the type of vessel, and their AI systems are well protected. They appear to be armed.”
“Can we outrun them?”
“I already took down the star sail,” Hannah said miserably.
“Then you better hurry and get it back up,” Gus said. He got out of bed but could not even stand up straight. He usually needed five minutes or so to get his joints in working order. Hannah put an arm around his waist to help him walk. He pushed her away. “You go start hoisting the star sail. Just give me a minute, and I’ll be there to help you winch it up.”
Hannah gave him a worried look and hurried off. Gus stopped in the navigation room and said, “Can you show me a visual on those guys?”
“Coming up on display one,” Alyssa said.
The screen illuminated with a close-in shot of the approaching ship. It was enormous and closing fast. Even as he watched, a smaller boarding craft launched out of the ship’s hangar bay and sped forward. It was full of armed men.
Gus stepped out onto the quarterdeck and shouted at Hannah. “Relax! It’s the navy.”
14 – The Awesome Hanzo
“Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition!”
(Lieutenant Howell M. Forgy, US Navy (Chaplain Corps))
“Sir, Admiral Wesson is here.”
Captain Vince Copeland, captain of the USS New Orleans, stood and greeted the retired officer. “Admiral,” he said respectfully.
Rear Admiral Daniel Wesson, United States Space Navy (Retired), returned the greeting genially. Officially, he was merely an observer on this mission. His current job title was Assistant Secretary of the Navy for Research, Development, and Acquisition. A year ago, he gave up the stars on his collar for a suit and tie. He was a visitor on the bridge of the New Orleans because this was the first shakedown cruise of the new Hanzo Ship Defense System.
So far, the mission had not gone all that well. Not because of the Hanzo weapon but because some unknown force had just blown the holy hell out of the local asteroid belt.
“Anything yet?” Wesson asked.
“Not on the disturbance, no sir,” Copeland replied. “But we are maintaining increased readiness.”
“Is the Hanzo up to speed?”
“Yes, sir; however, I’ve put off any testing for the time being.”
“I understand,” Wesson said. “I’ll stay out of your way.”
Copeland appreciated Wesson’s attitude. The admiral had snagged a ride on this mission because a lot was riding on Hanzo’s success. The weapon had turned into a political hot potato due to cost overruns and rumored corruption in the acquisition process. The Secretary of Defense had appointed Wesson to separate fact from fiction.
Copeland felt that whether the system passed or failed, there would be congressional hearings and heads would roll. He just wanted to keep his own butt out of that particular line of fire.
Copeland’s only real issue so far concerned the manufacturer’s representative on board, a fat guy named Henry Kopple. The guy definitely had a vested interest in the outcome and generally could be found tucked away in an unused seat near the back of the bridge, gnawing on a granola bar. So far, Copeland hadn’t once seen Kopple without something to eat or drink in his hand. Copeland was trying very hard not to despise the man.
But all of that had been temporarily pushed aside. The inexplicable damage to the asteroid belt overshadowed everything. The force involved dwarfed anything he had ever experienced. Copeland was just happy that the New Orleans had not been in the path of whatever had blasted a trillion tons of planetoids to dust.
“Contact!” the radar officer said. “On the nose at three AUs. It appears to be in a direct line with the disturbance.”
“Give me a visual,” Copeland said. The tactical display illuminated but showed only a black screen.
“No visual available,” the radar officer reported. “Too small or countermeasures in effect.”
“Anything on the EM band?” Copeland asked the reconnaissance officer.
The reconnaissance officer looked confused. “I am getting something, sir. But it is nothing I recognize. I think it may have probed us.”
“Status on the scout?” Copeland asked?
“Scout is away,” Copeland’s executive officer, reported. “ETA five minutes.”
An armed reconnaissance ship would give him some data. Whatever was out there had to be a powerful and potentially deadly entity.
“Thank you, XO,” Copeland said. “Sound General Quarters.”
A klaxon sounded throughout the ship, and the New Orleans’s AI backed up the command with a verbal announcement.
“By the way, who is commanding the scout?”
The XO checked the small video screen to his right. “Sir, that would be Lieutenant Shrimpman.”
Copeland winced. Scampi was not the best guy in a tight situation. “Let’s get closer so we can see what we’re shooting at.”
*.*.*.*
“Are we in trouble?” Hannah asked. She stood next to Gus on the quarterdeck.
“I wouldn’t think so,” Gus said, “unless we killed someone. I’m hoping the hole in the asteroid belt just got their attention. We’ll have to see. Let’s get on down there; let them see us. We’re not exactly a threat.”
They went down to the main deck to wait for the approaching launch. Gus picked up a spare coil of rope and tied off one end to a cleat on the inside of the deck railing. It wouldn’t hurt to be as helpful as possible in the face of the military.
The navy’s boarding craft approached cautiously. A hundred yards off the port beam, it turned sideways to match Alyssa’s direction. The wide boarding door on the hull opened to reveal three marines standing line abreast in the hatchway. They wore white atmospheric suits with gold tinted visors. The man in the center had his gloved fists on his hips, and the two men on either side were in a crouched stance with their weapons drawn.
Gus motioned them to come closer, and the vessel slowly moved toward the galleon. It came to a stop about ten yards out. To get inside the atmospheric bubble surrounding Alyssa they needed to move in a little closer. Gus tossed them the coil of rope, but one of the marines batted it away.
“They don’t trust us,” Gus said. “I can’t imagine what they’re afraid of. They all have blasters.” Behind the launch, the immense cruiser slowly drew closer. “They have to be going crazy trying to figure out who we are.”
*.*.*.*
The front wall of the USS New Orleans’s bridge was transparent. Captain Copeland stood in front of it and pulled out his binoculars, foregoing the telephoto image on his tactical display screen. “Are you seeing this?” he asked his XO.
“Sir,” the XO answered, “I believe that is the Alyssa.”
Admiral Wesson walked up to stand beside him with his own binoculars. “And that’s Hannah,” he said calmly.
Several specialists murmured their immediate agreement from their workstations.
“Hannah?” Copeland asked. “Do you mean the woman or the ship?”
“That young woman,” Wesson said, pointing at the galleon. “Come on, Vince. Remember the Solar Princess?”
The light dawned for Copeland. “Oh, right. You think that’s who this is, XO?”
“Sir, yes sir.”
Wesson gave Copeland a frank look of warning. “Hannah is the granddaughter of the German Chancellor. You just floated into the middle of a very large minefield, my friend. I suggest you proceed carefully. Wouldn’t you agree, XO?”
“Sir!”
*.*.*.*
Marine Sergeant David Hawkins
could not believe his luck. He would be the squad leader that rescued Grandfather Gus. His daughters would absolutely freak out when he told them. And he was actually about to stand on the deck of the Alyssa! The only alien starship that mankind had ever come across. If only Lieutenant Shrimpman wasn’t the officer in charge. He discreetly made sure his wrist camera was recording.
Thank God they were alive, after all. After the pirate attack, his youngest daughter had been in the dumps for days worrying about her favorite castaways.
Shrimpman’s voice came over the command channel. “I think it’s safe to raft up but stand ready.”
Hawkins didn’t like the Lieutenant’s clueless tone. Could it be that the officer did not realize who they were? Surely not. Everybody knew. But then again, when Shrimpman heard about Admiral Wesson being on the bridge, he’d pulled rank to take command of the squad. He was a suck-up kind of guy, no doubt about that.
The launch moved up against Alyssa’s hull until the sill of the hatchway was flush against the galleon’s deck rail. “Stand fast, men,” Shrimpman said. “I’ll check it out first.”
Shrimpman jumped from the hatchway, tripped, and sprawled face-first onto Alyssa’s deck. If he hadn’t had his visor closed, he would have broken his long skinny nose.
Hawkins tapped Corporal Martinez on the shoulder and nodded at his embarrassing officer, spread-eagled on the ancient vessel. Together they jumped across and helped Shrimpman to his feet.
“We got you, sir,” Hawkins said encouragingly. “You’re okay now.”
Shrimpman shrugged off their assistance and touched his neck control. The front half of his helmet swiveled back, leaving his face exposed. He sniffed the air dramatically as if the green LED in everyone’s helmet wasn’t indication enough of a breathable atmosphere.
“It’s okay, marines,” he said. “The air is good.”
Hawkins rolled his eyes and then thumbed his own helmet control. Hannah glanced at him when his helmet visor retracted, and Hawkins winked at her…and she winked back! How cool was that!
Shrimpman made a production of looking around the deck, his face screwed up in disapproval. He glanced at Gus, who was all smiles.
Gus started to introduce himself. “Welcome aboard, Lieutenant. I am so glad to see you guys. I’m—”