by Tom Shepherd
“What the hell’s going on?” J.B. stumbled onto the bridge and gawked into his monitor at the copilot station beside Suzie. Rosalie took a jump seat along the bulkhead, holding Lucy the blue-green shape-shifter cat in her lap.
“Black hole,” Suzie reported. “Ten solar masses.”
“I see it.” J.B. tapped a series of commands on his display console. “Distance to the event horizon?”
“Approximately 3.3 AU,” Parvati said. “Five hundred million kilometers dead ahead.”
“Do we have the Jump Gate on sensors?” J.B. said.
“It is not there, sir.” Parvati said.
“Are we off course?” He punched up a navigational display.
“If the Quirt-Thyme database is correct,” Myong Li said, “the Jump Gate must be inside the black hole.”
“Bull cookies,” J.B. said.
“She’s right. Look at the numbers,” Suzie said. “If we had emerged from FTL at the provided coordinates, we’d be smack-flattened by the black hole’s super gravity by now.”
“Navigator, why did we stop out here?” J.B. said.
Myong Li bowed slightly. “Since Tyler Matthews reported possible pirate ambushes, Ensign Parvati asked me to modify the course and drop to black short of the Gate for a sensor scan.”
“Well done, Parvati,” J.B. said. “You saved our keesters.”
“Whoops,” Suzie gasped. “We’re not off the hook yet. The Beagle missed the blacker’s event horizon, but we’re inside the ergosphere.”
“Shit! I see it,” J.B. said. “Pulling us forward.”
“Yes, sir,” Myong Li said.
“How fast?”
“I cannot read the velocity,” Parvati said. “Space-time begins to distort this close to a singularity.”
“Full astern,” Suzie ordered. “If we continue forward, the warping effect will destabilize ship’s systems.”
“Sucking us into that crushing vise ahead.” J.B. cursed softly.
“Captain, I’ve engaged the sublight engines, but we still move forward,” Parvati reported. “Shall I go light-plus?”
“Do it,” Suzie said. “Any course away from here.”
The starship shuddered as its FTL package attempted to activate, but the Beagle remained in starry, black space.
A frantic Rodney Rooney called from the engine room. “Captain, the mains are squealing and starting to overheat! Space-time is different here. We can’t break the light wall.”
“Disengage the FTL drive. Keep the sub-lights online,” Suzie ordered.
“Aye, ma’am. Arabella says hello.”
J.B. laughed. “Love blooms at the brink of disaster.”
“Now what?” Rosalie said. “I hate it when it gets all teckkie and I’m just a linguist with a blaster.”
“We’ll have to attempt a Lisowski trajectory,” Suzie said.
J.B. raised an eyebrow. “I barely know what that means. Can you execute one safely?”
“I think ‘safety first’ probably doesn’t apply when you’re facing annihilation.” She blew out a breath. “I better go internal and control the ship as MLC.”
“You’ve already logged too many hours internally, Suzie,” Rosalie said from the jump seat. “Without a sustained break as a biological human, you could lose your physical form.”
“Don’t have a choice, luv.” She turned to her bridge crew. “Parvati, Myong Li, link up and follow my instructions precisely. Going internal.”
“May the goddess Durga protect you,” Parvati intoned.
“And the Blessed Virgin, all of us.” J.B. moved to the captain’s chair.
“Mister Matthews, we have a complication,” Myong Li said.
J.B. snorted. “Just when your day is going so well…”
“Sensors now indicate a binary system—two black holes, rotating each other,” Myong Li said. “The companion singularity must be 180 degrees behind its mate.”
“Scylla and Charybdis,” Rosalie whispered.
“Not my gods,” Parvati said.
“There goes Lisowski.” J.B. touched a key. “Monitoring this, Suzie?”
“I’m into every system on the Beagle,” she said through the bridge audio. “Our binary appears to be in the early stages of merging into a mid-massive black hole. Figure-eight orbit. Bloody hard to slingshot away from those co-joined ergospheres.”
“And we’re getting closer to the event horizon with every passing minute,” J.B. said. He briefed Rodney and Arabella and looped them into the conversation. “We need a Plan B.”
Rodney had a suggestion. “What about flying into the figure-eight, breaking free after the ship returns from the top loop?”
“Cross the centerline twice?” J.B. said. “We’d have to exit along the edge between black holes.”
“Right, sir. Counter-clockwise around the first one, cross the gravity well to the second, clockwise loop around the top, and use their combined force to ride free as we sail between them a second time.”
“Eight-and-a-half exit,” Arabella said. “Rodney, you’re a genius!”
The unmistakable sound of smooching emanated from the bridge audio. “Heave to, Arabella. I need to talk to young Einstein.”
Rodney sounded breathless. “Uh… yes, sir? Sorry, sir.”
“Design flaw in your Plan B, Mister Rooney. The Beagle might be able to slip between Scylla and Charybdis, but double exposure to concentrated X-ray radiation will hard fry all biological life aboard this vessel. In fact, there’s no guarantee the ship’s systems or computer network will survive, either.”
“Bugger that,” Suzie said. “I have an idea, but you may not like it.”
“Like it?” J.B. snorted. “If it’s better than getting grilled like a black hot dog or crushed to sub-molecular dust, I love it already.”
“Here’s my ‘Plan C’ fairytale,” Suzie said. “I’ll plot Rodney’s figure-eight getaway and send it to the helm. Then we take all systems off line except flight controls, sub-light engines, and the MLC. The energy savings will allow super-reinforcement of the shields.”
J.B. tapped at his console. “Still not enough to protect the crew.”
“The holographic crew will retreat into the MLC,” Suzie said. “The computer net is the most radiation-resistant component aboard.”
“And the rest of us die?” Rosalie said.
“Not on my watch, luv,” Suzie said. “We’ll put the biological organisms in EVA gear.”
“Space suits won’t screen out that much X-ray energy,” Rodney said. “But at least the holograms might have a chance to—”
“Shut up, Rodney,” Arabella said. “Keep talking, Suzie.”
“No, he’s right. EVA suits alone won’t protect against the beastly radiation. So, we’re going to fill a large space with water, with the humans in the center.”
“Great idea! Water is an excellent insulator,” Rodney said. “Early atomic reactors used water to store radioactive rods and—”
“Rodney!” Arabella exploded.
“Sorry, sorry.”
“How much water, Suzie?” Rosalie said.
“Enough to flood cargo bay two.”
J.B. whistled. “That’s a helluva bath tub.” He checked his console. “Purging every source aboard, we don’t come close to filling the bay.”
Suzie continued. “We squeeze every drop from the ship, including coolant from the FTL drive. It’s offline, any road.”
“Still not enough,” J.B. said.
“Next, shut down artificial gravity. The water will pool as a perfect sphere. We move the biologicals to the center, then freeze the water, which expands in volume by nine percent. Holographics secure the floating ice in place with cables. Finally, we pressurize the remaining space with the ship’s fire suppressant mixture—metallic foam and CO2—and hard-freeze the deployed mix.”
J.B. nodded. “Metallic foam provides excellent shielding against X-rays, but to freeze the CO2 component requires the cargo bay at negative eighty degree
s centigrade.”
“Venting heat is easy in deep space,” Rodney said from engineering.
Rosalie’s lip trembled. “What about Lucy?” She stroked the shape-shifter cat in her lap.
“She’s biological, more or less,” J.B. said. “Drop her into an EVA unit, and pray she has the smarts to understand it’s for her own good and doesn’t morph into a blue-green killer whale once we’re underwater.”
“I’ll explain it to her,” Rosalie said.
“Enhanced shields, ice-packed humans, A.I. steering the ship.” J.B. smiled slightly. “It might work.”
“I hope so,” Suzie said, “because I’m returning to biological form and joining you in the ice.”
“I’d rather you flew the ship as MLC,” J.B. said.
“No,” she said firmly. “If I die, it will be as a human.”
Suzie materialized on the bridge. J.B. embraced her. “Now I know why Tyler loves you.”
She kissed his cheek and stepped to the captain’s console, entering her command codes. “Arabella can handle the Beagle. She flew the little beast to Suryadivan Prime after we escaped Kichirou’s pirates. And she has a special chemistry with this ship, like I did with the Sioux City.”
“How much time do we have?” J.B. said.
Parvati checked. “If we do not initiate the figure-eight maneuver in sixteen-point-three minutes, the first black hole will have us.”
“Arabella, get up here,” Suzie ordered.
The dark-haired Arab beauty appeared instantly. “Aye, Captain.”
“I’ve entered the figure-eight course. Take the conn.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
J.B. vacated the command seat. “Rodney, transfer engineering controls to the bridge now. Then jump into EVA and skedaddle to cargo bay two.”
“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Rooney said.
“Once we’re into the ice,” J.B. said, “all holograms must go internal before your programs destabilize. Understood, Captain Arabella?”
“Yes, sir. I can fly the ship as MLC.”
J.B. clapped his hands. “Okay, folks. Let’s dodge the demons ahead.”
Parvati reached out and touched J.B.’s forearm. “It has been an honor serving the Matthews Family.”
He took her brown hand and kissed it. “This is going to work.”
Suzie was the last biological crew member to enter the smaller of two cargo bays. She donned an EVA suit once before, with Tyler’s assistance, during their one-day excursion to the Andromeda Galaxy. This time her helmet refused to seal. She crossed the hatch into the cargo bay before the headgear finally clicked shut, but O2 stubbornly refused to flow. She was turning blue, ready to crack the release mechanism and replace stagnant suit air with whatever atmosphere remained in the bay, when the life-giving hiss of breathable air rushed into Suzie’s EVA suit. She gulped the breath of life into her lungs and found J.B. behind her. He gave a thumbs up. She returned the gesture.
Suzie and J.B. shuffled to the small knot of humans gathered amidships, where Rosalie knelt to commune with Lucy, now a lump in the left leg of a deflated EVA suit.
“How is she, luv?”
“She isn’t a fraidy cat,” Rosalie said, “but Lucy is worried about us.”
“That little creature protected the Matthews Family multiple times,” J.B. said. “She must feel helpless now.”
Myong Li, Ulrika and Zalika appeared in the bay. African hologram Zalika raised a dark hand and waved the humans to a spot on the deck where a hastily drawn, 5-pointed star marked the optimum location for each organic. Holographic blonde Ulrika nudged them into a tight cluster, exchanging Rodney for Rosalie to balance the weight distribution. After adjustments were done, Myong Li activated the flooding mechanism and water poured into the cargo bay. Designed for lightweight strength, the pressurized EVA suits floated with the rising tide. The holographic crew waded into the water and secured each suit with a deck cable.
When the flood exhausted its supply of shipboard water, people and shape-shifter floated like scuba divers at the approximate center of a fairly deep pool. After a few more safety instructions, Myong Li killed the artificial gravity and flash-froze the sphere of H2O in less than a minute. Zalika activated controls on the cargo bay bulkhead, which filled the remaining space with compressed fire suppressant. In another minute, the foam became a package of metallic particles suspended in dry ice, adding to the insulation of the living beings frozen within the cargo bay.
One by one the humans checked in. Lucy even contributed a meow.
“Mister Mathews, Captain Suzie,” Myong Li said. “I must shut down your transmitters to conserve suit energy.”
“See you beyond the ergosphere,” J.B. signed off. Now our fate rests in Arabella’s holographic hands.
On the bridge, Arabella recalled Myong Li to the Navigator’s chair but sent Ulrika and Zalika to relative safety inside the MLC. Parvati remained at the helm.
“Show me the latest sensor readings,” Arabella ordered. “Full imagery, all spectra.”
A hurricane of data flew at her from Parvati and Myong Li, whose stations displayed redundant sensor functions. Humans were incapable of lightspeed interpretation, but this crew was not human. Arabella simultaneously scanned billions of readings across the electromagnetic spectrum—radio, visual, infrared, microwave, X-ray, and gamma ray. She halted the flow and called up a specific image that caught her attention.
“Look at that. Our angle of approach now shows both singularities on scanner. Give me colors.”
Radiation from the stars and gas clouds, invisible to the human eye, formed a speckled seabed for the cosmic ocean, and dead center loomed two utterly dark circles, the offset eyes of death itself. A jagged red pattern stretched across the scanner field, like a medical monitor registering a heart attack. This translucent crimson scribbling passed between the black eyes, scraping both with its frantic declaration of intense X-ray energy ahead.
“Mean-looking pair of bitches,” Arabella murmured.
“Orders, ma’am?” Myong Li said.
“Standby for first turn, then we’ll evacuate to the MLC for the subsequent maneuvers.”
“We are ready, Captain,” Parvati said.
Arabella linked with the Main Library Computer to test the turning power of the Beagle’s sub-light engines. She entered a series of preliminary commands but noted a lag factor.
“What just happened?” Arabella said.
“I am reading a 01.97-second delay between your input and the event registering inside the MLC,” Parvati reported.
Arabella blinked. “Weird. I’m hooked into the MLC, yet almost two seconds are lost between my commands and the system’s response?”
“Space-time distortion,” Myong Li said. “It can be expected inside the ergosphere.”
“Which means two more seconds between the MLC’s execution of a command and the ship answering to the helm?” Arabella said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Myong Li said.
“What if the commands were entered directly from the bridge?”
“With no computer buffer,” Myong Li said, “maximum delay is two seconds, not four.”
“Life and death may hang in the balance of those two extra seconds.” Arabella tapped a sequence on her console. “Myong Li, I am sending you to Memory.”
“But, ma’am—” She vanished.
“I know what you intend.” Parvati rotated her chair to face the command seat. “It should be me. You have Rodney in your life now.”
“Take command as MLC when I release the helm,” Arabella said.
“You mean, when you no longer exist.” Parvati leaned forward. “My dear friend, please consider what you are doing.”
“Tell Rodney I love him. Tell him to look for me among the stars.”
Arabella dismissed the bindi-dotted Helmswoman to standby mode inside the Main Library Computer.
I can’t panic. So many
people are depending on me. Okay, okay. Just keep asking yourself—what would Suzie do?
Arabella reached out and assumed command of all ship functions. She entered Suzie’s algorithm in preparation for first turn and felt the Legal Beagle straining against the irresistible gravity ahead. Goosing up the power twenty percent beyond redline, she leaned forward on the command seat and waited to learn if they were all going to die.
Arabella compensated for the lag factor by peremptorily steering the Beagle into the first turn two seconds early. The helm answered perfectly, entering the plotted course, counterclockwise around the periphery of Scylla. Rodney’s engines wailed audibly as the ship fought claws of massive gravity inside the first ergosphere. The stout little ship lacked the ability to break free, but her straining, sub-light engines turned the Beagle’s nose to a course heading developed eight hundred years ago by Szymek Lisowski, and she swung wide into an unstable orbit around the first event horizon.
Approaching the apogee of their orbit, Scylla’s terrible gravity well drew the Legal Beagle back from the brink of escape velocity and bent the corvette’s trajectory around the first black hole and into the space between tandem singularities. Arabella felt her holo-matrix flutter as she prepared to compensate for graduated space-time distortion. She entered Suzie’s second turn, and the Beagle hurled between the two great beasts.
Hard radiation bombarded the vessel like the weaponry of a million capital ships. But the tough little ship clung to the seam between gravity wells, a flight between chasms descending into the eternal dark of subatomic nether-worlds.
Arabella readied the next turn. But before she could execute, the computer which controlled the ship’s steering mechanism melted down, shooting red and green sparks in death throes that mimicked a Chinese New Year’s parade. Without centralized flight controls, Arabella had to re-route the helm through hundreds of MLC sub-functions at more secure locations and directly link the drive system with her station on the bridge.
There’s no escaping it now. I have to fly this ship manually or nobody—human or hologram—will survive. What would Suzie do?
She drummed on her console. “Yes!”