by E. N. Abel
''Forget Mars. In the next hundred years it will only be a supply outpost for the exploration and exploitation of the asteroid belt. Instead - look into the sky: millions of new worlds are waiting there - if you trust the estimates of your own astronomers. Light-years and light-years apart, but to our star drive they are all equally far away: one heartbeat. Think about it, Madam.''
''I did. And I believe that your proposed goal is neither achievable nor feasible. It's now known that such a thing as a 'star drive' is possible. In due time we will be able to develop it by ourselves, without your grace. And then we'll decide how to proceed - on our own. But one thing is also sure ...''
''You will not forget that I rejected your request.'' Taking a deep breath Mike went on: ''Tough luck. Well, maybe you succeed with your attempt at the star drive, maybe not. I personally think that you lack perspective - as you do with Mars. Anyway, up to now not even your chief engineer seems to have the slightest idea what a sub-space manifold designates. Does your Dr White?'' Mike took a short break, then went on: ''But now, Mrs Coleman, Gentlemen, with all due respect, shall we proceed with the business at hand? I would like to leave this wonderful place ASAP.''
''Here comes our man,'' Dearing shouted at that moment, pointing to the encircling crowd. ''And he's bringing our new transmitter with him.'' He turned and waved, and a man in uniform pushed through the watching multitude, approached with quick and precise steps. Four soldiers carrying a heavy crate followed him.
Dearing faced Mike: ''I think you will remember Lieutenant Colonel Richard Warrington?''
Mike felt stricken: this he had not anticipated. The man coming forward was the US Army officer who had recruited him and his friends from a rookie class, from basic training in Fort Jackson, Columbia, ages ago. And later he had been their commanding officer in desert country ...
The light-birdy closed in, stood at attention, saluting his former squad leader and the security detail. In another life these men had been his men.
The mood changed at once. Mike's troopers', wearing cammies, faced the Colonel and answered the salute, then turned back to watch the perimeter again. Mike, not in uniform, just nodded.
''How are you, Colonel?''
''Getting old, Lieutenant, getting old.''
Mike laughed: ''No rust that I can see, sir!''
''Only on the outside, son, only on the outside. Inside a lot is broken. By the way: sorry about your wife. Damn SBS.''
''Thanks, Colonel.''
''Now, I guess time is pressing and you want to get off fast. Like back in the old days, eh? Rush in, stash supplies and rush out.''
Again Mike had to laugh: ''Old habits die hard, Colonel.''
''And sometimes save lives. Now, these characters here,'' he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, ''want me to vouch for them. That their gadget is safe and not harmful to you in any way.''
Mike just nodded, waiting.
''My tech-sergeant - you remember Gunny Westmoore - checked it.'' He kicked the box disrespectfully. ''Said it's the most advanced piece of fucking COMM shit he ever laid his dirty hands on.''
Mike grinned: ''Sounds just like the Gunny to me, sir. Best tech man I ever met. How is the old bastard?''
''Up and movin, my friend. I'll say hello for y'all. Now, he also said to hand you this.'' The Colonel pulled a silver dollar sized chip from his pocket.
On seeing the part, Chief Engineer Carter's eyes seemed to pop out. He took a deep breath and stepped forward: ''How could your man dare ...''
''Easy, NASA,'' Warrington dismissed him with a wave. ''Well, Mike, Gunny says before you deploy that thing, tell Rosskov to stick it back into port twenty-three. That's port two-three. That enables it again.'' He dropped the chip in Mike's hands.
''And as these people,'' he tilted his head towards the waiting NASA administrators, ''also didn't know dick what to offer you for playing with your freight hauler, I took the liberty of rushing ahead a bit. Well, actually Gunny did. Intelligence says you only have a few old Russky scaphanders on board.''
He waved towards the crowd, and six more soldiers stepped forward, each carrying a bigger carton with visible ease.
''This the latest craze at NASA. They call 'em 'bio suits' here, ultramodern, thin scaphanders designed for short extra-vehicular activities around the planned Mars ship. Hilariously expensive, like twenty mill or so a piece. The only drawback is their limited radiation tolerance and shielding against micro meteorites. But Westmoore said you could compensate that with your wonderful gravity shielding. Six units. Want them?''
''You bet Sir.'' Mike held out his hand, got the expected bone crusher. ''Done.''
''Pleasure doing business with you, Lieutenant.''
''Load up, guys.'' Mike waved at his detail.
The spectators watched curiously as the ship's troopers' attached cigarette-pack sized devices on the cases. The crates lifted off. When they were hovering in mid-air, the curiosity changed to astonishment. Next the men grabbed the crates, swung them around as if they were weightless, pushed them off towards the air lock. The boxes floated up, enticing the audience to collective Oooh's and Aaah's.
Warrington suddenly grabbed Mike's arm, pulled him a bit aside, turned to him and spoke quietly: ''Listen: the A-Shaitan legend is still alive in dune country. And feared. Simply the rumour that they could be in an area cools things down nicely. Here, a little reminder and a thank-you from the troop.'' He pulled a bottle of bourbon from the pocket of his coat and handed it over: Desert Spirit, the unit's private brand.
''Now for some advice, son: soon enough these clowns here can build their own spaceships - and fly around with 'em - thanks to your gang's magic. Until then: grab what you can get from 'em. Especially if they come with requests including the word 'MARS' - they can easily afford it. Another thing, always remember who you are and to whom you belong. And now, son, off with you.'' He punched Mike softly into the shoulder: ''De oppresso liber!''
They shook hands. Mike's men saluted smartly, then everything went very fast. He floated upwards, his detail followed and two minutes later they had lifted off.
In the mood of the moment, Acar let the sphere drift up slowly, to five hundred yards, then, as a salute to his ex-commander, 'put the pedal to the medal'. Driven by the raw power of the antimatter reactor, the little ship just flashed upwards, passing Mach ten in a heartbeat. A flaming deflector shield forced the air violently out of their flight path and they vanished into the afternoon sky of Cape Canaveral, honouring their space faring predecessors with a mighty supersonic thunder.
When the brutal sound wave hit the assembled crowd, Colonel Warrington grinned inwardly. Those kids. Out of Earth's deepest hells up into the highest heavens. Who would have thought that? He watched the golden spot until it faded out in the deep blue sky, his right hand in the pocket of his coat. Holding the little box the lieutenant had passed with their last handshake.
In the ship, Chan, like the other crew members, had heard the entire exchange. Mike's words in her ears and tears in her eyes, she came to a decision and turned back to the most demanding intellectual challenge of her life, the defect equation. She felt more determined then ever.
Chapter 90
In Transit
Friday, 25.11.2016
In the little galley the 'star drive team' was assembled: Mike, Alex, Chan.
''You dangled that 'sub-space' topic nicely in front of their noses,'' Alex said admiringly. ''The seven determining properties of a sub-space threshold...'' He laughed, slapped his knee. ''Where did you pull that one from? That was a really good one!''
''Thanks. Just a little bait, to lure them off track.''
''So there is no such thing as a sub-space threshold?'' Chan asked, sounding confused. ''No seven main properties?''
''Or a sub-space. No. Well, not that we know of.'' Mike smiled sadly.
''But why do you want to keep the Americans from developing an interstellar drive?'' Chan wondered.
''I don't want any natio
n to develop an interstellar drive - for a while yet, that is.'' Mike replied. ''Better they first explore the Solar System a bit, before they drop in on other worlds. Mature a bit.''
''But you told her exactly that: forget Mars, search for other inhabitable worlds.''
''Everybody needs a long-time objective, Chan. Helps them focus.''
''You are ... tricky ... deceiving. Just like ...''
''General Xao.''
''Yes.'' She blushed a bit.
''Thank you. I take that as a big compliment. But now you are afraid that I will deceive you also? Just use you?''
''No,'' Chan replied, ''I don't. To your own people you have always shown integrity - but I am not one of yours. I also think you use your cleverness as a weapon because you have little else and are so few in numbers.''
Mike smiled. ''That may be right. Now, do you have any suggestions regarding the handling of the star drive secret? Maybe a better way?''
''Again, no,'' she replied. ''Such a secret is too big for a single nation, it must be exploited by all mankind. But I believe, no, more precisely, I fear ...''
''That it will be abused anyway?''
''Yes.''
''So what shall we do about it? To prevent abuse?'' Alex sounded very interested.
Chan was firm: ''Keep it for yourself.''
''And if they discover the secret on their own?''
''That's out of your control. Pure fate.''
''Lady Luck, hmm?'' Mike traded a short look with his chief engineer, got a nod. He reached out with his right hand.
''Please give me your hand, Chan.''
She threw an uncertain look at Alex, got one of his heart-warming smiles back. Feeling reassured, she took the Captain's hand.
Mike held it, covered it with his. ''See, Chan, I am not omniscient. We are not omniscient, even in this marvellous constellation. For all the collective intelligence between us, we don't know the right way to deal with this situation. Simply handing over the door to the stars now might - no will - result in an export of human malignancy to the galaxy.
''Even if we don't come up against other aggressive species, there will be evil enough: prison planets, exile worlds, colonies of religious zealots and hellish 'paradises'. The whole human bile gushed into space.
''On the other hand: not passing on the secret can result in a humanitarian catastrophe. Look at the birth rates, the population growth. A single new world would reduce that pressure significantly.''
Mike looked at her and waited for a reaction, but she just remained silent, listening, so he went on. ''There are more scenarios, of course. You will find the ones we took into consideration in the ship's knowledge-database, Keyword social consequences.''
He pointed at Chan's pad. ''If you are interested, read them. Criticise the conclusion and predictions. Feel free to improve them or add new ones.''
Chan felt stunned: again that open manner - unthinkable in her own society. Handing out confidential information to her, just like that. Demonstrating trust in her. But there was more ...
''I do have the impression that you have a plan,'' she said, a challenge in her tone, ''concerning the future of the star drive. ''Or maybe more of a vision.''
''Why is that?''
That was answered with a tilted head and a knowing smile.
''OK, OK. Alex?''
The chief engineer leaned forward. ''Let's assume we get the star drive working. I mean: working fine. And we travel around a little in the stellar neighbourhood. Discover a world suitable for human settlement. With me so far?''
''Yessss ...''
''Now, if by chance, someone installs an interstellar hub within the Solar System, a transport system performant enough to move even the biggest streams of cargo, livestock and passengers.'' He paused again, waiting for her response, got a nod.
''That transport system is freely accessible, but offers a route to our new star system only. And back, of course.''
''A bi-directional gateway to another star system which contains a habitable planet? Something like a star-gate?''
''Yes.''
''And?''
''This is one of the scenarios.''
''I see.'' And she did. ''More scenarios?''
''More gateways to more star systems ...'' Mike offered.
''... which contain more inhabitable worlds. I understand. But who would build these hubs?''
''And not to forget: who would run and maintain them?'' Alex added. ''Well, our children and children's children will also need a purpose in life. And a job.''
''Of course,'' Mike followed up, ''that's just ...''
''Another scenario, I see.'' Chan showed a little smile, took a deep breath. That these people had to have a plan, of that she had been absolutely sure. Meeting their leader in person she had estimated it to be a good one, too. But such a long term one, such a vision for and of the future ... and as long as nobody else cracked the secret of super-light travel, they would hold the biggest monopoly in the history of mankind.
''So now what?''
''RPDA,'' Alex stated.
Upon her questioning look Mike explained: ''Recon, plan, decide, act.'' Pointing at the pad computer, he went on: ''Any way we can help you with that?''
''No. Well, maybe ...''
''A different room, one just for yourself?''
''Oh, that would be great.''
Mike picked up his communicator: ''Captain to Quartermaster.''
''Sir?'' a female voice answered.
''We need a room for our Chinese guest.''
''Content?''
''Small office kit.''
They had to wait a moment, then the voice said: ''Deck One, Room One. Ten by eight feet. Open to the lift.''
''That'll do, Quartermaster, thank you. When can she move in?''
''Give me half an hour, sir.''
''Thank you, again. Please proceed.'' Looking over to an observing Chan, he smiled: ''Deck one, room one. You heard the lady.'' He stopped, considering. ''Chan, I will have someone look after you, every hour or so, keep you swimming in coffee and water, bring whatever else you need, OK?''
''Thank you. But why are you making such a fuss about me?''
''You are our most precious resource right now.''
''And a pretty girl, too?'' she replied with a provocative smile.
Mike and Alex laughed both. ''That certainly helps.''
This instant the intercom sounded up: ''Captain to the bridge. ETA Moon orbit: five minutes''
''Well,'' Mike rose, ''back to work.''
Chapter 91
Cape Canaveral
Friday, 25.11.2016
Lieutenant Colonel Warrington stoically stirred his coffee. The rather lively discussion around the table did not concern him the slightest. Instead of participating he had taken a trip down memory lane, remembering a few of the more interesting incidents in the desert country.
Damn, what a time that had been. He still marvelled at the fact that so many had gotten out alive. Shot up, cut up, beaten up, and sewn up by Magical Margaret. Not a single one unscathed, but damn it all, alive. And then these young ... well, fire-pissing desert devils ... pulled off a stunt of such breath-taking magnitude. Left war and violence behind them and built a functional starship from scratch, right under the eyes of several dozen security agencies.
That thought made him laugh. Classical Shaitan stunt: do it right under your enemies' nose. Funny part was, he should have anticipated it. He himself had sat around their fireplaces numerous times, a beer can in his hand, listening comfortably to Mike's utopic visions.
More than once he had wondered what the fuck that boy had smoked, but actually he had never seen any drugs around the Lieutenant's gang. Off duty they drank their beers, boozed a bit and burned the occasional cigarette, but never ever pot, Mary Jane or that other crap. You Shaitan, You clean. That was that and they were very serious about it.
Anyhow, Mike had made his dream come true. Gathered forty other nuts around him and built the fucki
ng spacecraft. Nobody had had a clue how he had pulled it off - and in such a short time. Furthermore nobody knew whether it really had an interstellar drive engine on board - not that Warrington gave a damn - but sure enough it was parked out there above the Moon. Visible with the naked eye. That alone ... wow, respect!
An outraged female voice called him back into reality, to the table in the NASA senior admin's conference room.
''What do you suppose we do? We have nothing!'' Dr Coleman shouted in anger. ''No theory, no construction details, no plans. We simply can't figure out how they manipulate gravity.'' She took a breath. ''And if I hadn't interfered when you dumped that idiotic patriot act on them, we would have had a shooting incident on our hands!''
Some shooting incident, Warrington thought amused, would have been a fairly short-lived one. You'd been wiped out in less than ten seconds. He had seen them do it before - and more thasn once.
Registering how attractive this doctor was - even while enraged, he decided to interrupt. She had used his keyword: no plan. After reading the intelligence report and listening to the taped conversation between these geeks and the ship's landing party, he had a good idea on how to proceed. Maybe he could help.
''Sorry Lady, Gents,'' he said into the silence following Coleman's outbreak. Everyone was looking at him. ''How about gathering some facts, I mean, before you bash each others heads in?''
''What do you mean, Colonel?'' Dearing sounded exhausted.
''Why don't we just build a spaceship like that? MacMillan called it a balloon, so it can't be that hard.''
Dr Matthew Carter rolled his eyes, but Nora Coleman took a breath, spoke softly to the man; after all he was just a soldier. ''We can't replicate their drive system.''
Warrington found she had beautiful green eyes. Snotty bitch, but pretty eyes. Good figure, too. Well.
''Sure, but that's not all that makes a spaceship, does it?'' he offered.
The three NASA manager exchanged wondering looks.