“Good, let me know what you get,” Kurt answered reflexively. He was instantly self-conscious of how much his response sounded like something Jack would say. The last thing he wanted was to seem like he was pretending to be something he wasn’t. The bottom line was that two crewmen were missing on his watch. Something that he was sure wouldn’t have happened if Jack had been onboard.
“Lieutenant Commander Hoffman.”
It took a split second for him to realize that the computer was calling him. “Yes, what is it?”
“I have just completed processing all of the data that was transmitted from Shuttle-two before loss-of-signal.”
“Good...good, is there any sign of what happened?”
“Nothing quantitative sir. I can integrate it into a VR playback for you. You might find that helpful.”
“Yes, good idea. Thank you,” Kurt answered, though he was not completely sure of what he wanted to do. It was just easier to accept the computer’s advice. He pulled a pair of opaque glasses from a compartment in the command chair’s armrest, put them on, and then carefully placed a couple of tiny speakers in his ears. “OK, begin playback.”
“From what point would you like to begin?”
“I don’t know...let’s try the last ten minutes.”
The dark mask of the glasses abruptly switched to an all-encompassing view of the shuttle’s dim interior. He was standing behind the pilot’s and co-pilot’s seats and could see the backs of Palmer’s and Masako’s heads as they stared out the cockpit window. Directly in front lay a silver torus: one of the object’s outer rings. It was thin, like a bracelet suspended against a black curtain. They were still far enough away that it didn’t quite fill his field of view. Its elliptical appearance told of Palmer’s cautious, off-axis, approach vector. The ring grew though as Palmer brought the ship in, and soon Kurt found himself gazing at the thick, silver arc of its upper left quadrant. They continued their approach in silence, and the curved surface grew flat, transforming into a metallic plain stretching out before him. Its reflective surface was so perfect that it became difficult to discern whether they were hovering above some massive metallic object or just floating in open space. The surface only manifested itself through a slightly grayish tint at the reflection’s edge.
Masako broke the silence. “I don’t know what we’re going to gain from another close pass out here. I really want to see the central cylinder up close.”
“Too dangerous,” Palmer muttered. “Like I said before, we’re going to take this slowly and carefully. Besides, even here we’re experiencing some significant tidal forces. If we get too close to that one, it could rip us apart.” Palmer adjusted his course, and in an attempt to appease his shipmate, said, “Why don’t we try a touch and go on it this time. If that goes well, then we can try setting down on it.”
Masako’s interest was sparked. “I wouldn’t mind trying to find out what it’s made of. There’s no reason...”
Palmer, though, was clearly ignoring the response and cut her off, saying “Fifty meters and closing.”
Kurt gazed back out the window, captivated by the growing image of their own reflection – he could have sworn they were simply approaching shuttle-one for some sort of rendezvous.
“Thirty meters and...” Palmer’s voice trailed off as he suddenly started working intensely at the controls.
Kurt watched with disbelief as he realized that the man was actually increasing thrust toward the object. The ring, however, still lay in front of them, unchanged.
“I’m encountering some sort of resistance. It’s almost like it’s holding us back from the surface. Increasing thrust now to fifty percent.”
Kurt hung on those words for the few seconds before Palmer announced, “No progress – we're at twenty-nine point five meters. Do you detect any energy readings?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m going to move us transversely. Maybe we can find a region elsewhere that’ll let us set down.” Barely a minute passed before Palmer announced, “Still nothing. I’m increasing thrust to seventy percent.” The ship’s normally silent engines began to hum under the strain. “Altitude still...”
“Something’s wrong...engine temps are rising fast,” Masako called out with some urgency.
“Understood,” Palmer replied. A warning buzzer cut through the air, an automated voiced announced, “Engine temperature approaching critical.”
Palmer silenced the buzzer, saying, “Ok, I’m reducing power.”
Before he could act though, the voice announced, “Temperature past critical, emergency shut down commencing.”
The engines’ hum ceased abruptly. In the same instant, they shot away from the ring’s surface as if someone had released a giant spring. The once smooth silver plain regained its curvature, and Kurt found himself staring at a quickly receding segment of the ring. Reflex took over and he dug his fingers into the command chair’s armrest to brace himself.
“I’ve got no power available,” Palmer called out, his voice cracking under the strain. “We’re heading for the far side of the ring.” Palmer typed frantically at the control terminal as the computer announced “Warning, course change required. Impact in twenty seconds.”
The sky outside became filled with an eerie blue-green glow. The computer announced, “Impact in ten...”
Its voice cut out and the playback ended.
“Damn it!” Kurt said loudly as he pulled off the glasses. Kate looked up at him in surprise. “Sorry,” he said in a subdued tone. He regained his train of thought and continued, “Computer, show me the shuttle’s path during that last minute.”
The small terminal on his armrest displayed a head-on view of the three rings. A red dot marked the shuttle’s position as it slowly inched its way toward the inner surface of the near ring. “OK, this must be when he increased thrust,” he said softly to himself. The dot held its position for a few seconds, and then shot outward across the ring. As it reached the midpoint, it disappeared. “So it didn’t hit,” he said aloud.
The computer responded to Kurt’s rhetorical statement. “There is no evidence to support that conclusion sir. This just represents our loss of signal. At that point all sensors were overwhelmed by the gamma burst. The shuttle could have continued along its trajectory and struck the ring.”
Kurt wasn’t even willing to entertain that notion. “Is there any evidence of an impact?” he challenged. “Any sign of debris?”
“No sir. The gamma burst saturated our sensors. Since they came back on-line, we have not found any trace of them.”
“Then why are you suggesting that they hit?”
Kurt only realized he was shouting when he finished his sentence. Though it was only a machine, the computer knew better than to respond this time. The problem was, the lack of any sign of shuttle debris was hardly evidence of their being alive and well. He took a deep breath and made a deliberate effort to calm himself. “How long until shuttle-one’s aboard?”
“Ten minutes until docking.” If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought the computer’s tone was almost apologetic. That and the continued silence on the bridge made him further regret his outburst. He abruptly got up and said, “I’m heading down to propulsion. Let me know if anything comes up.”
Devon looked back at him from the pilot’s station and gave him a quick “OK.”
It took a few minutes to wind his way through the narrow corridors to engineering. As he reached the stern, the hallway widened to accommodate the control station for the IPV’s fusion reactor. The junior member of his engineering staff, Claire Hughes, was working intently at one of its screens, and gave him a quick, “Hey Kurt.” He answered with a polite, “How’s it going,” and then watched over her shoulder as she reviewed reactor output models.
“I’m looking at different ways we can power up the main discharge plates,” Claire said. “Nadya thinks we can get a hundred-ten to a hundred-fifteen percent out of the engines. That’d cut the run over to
the object to just over an hour. The catch is making sure we don’t burn anything out.”
Kurt nodded in approval. “Where is she anyway?”
“Last I saw, she was working up top in there,” Claire said as she gestured to her left, toward the closed bulkhead leading to the propulsion room. “She drafted Maurice into helping her replace one of the Xenon infusion valves.”
“Maurice?” Kurt said in dismay. The man could work marvels with computer code but was about the last person he’d expect to see getting his hands dirty with actual hardware.
“Yeah, I was surprised too. But, no one else was around and she needed an extra set of hands.”
“Thanks.” Kurt swung open the heavy blast door that helped isolate the propulsion section from the rest of the ship. After climbing through, he reflexively sealed the hatch behind him. At twenty meters across with a seven-meter high ceiling, the room was technically the largest single open space on the IPV. However, only a small percentage was truly open. There was barely enough room to take four or five steps across the gray, anti-static floor before reaching a floor-to-ceiling array of cables, pipes and catwalks. There, countless bundles of multi-colored wires snaked their way up and down a metal framework, before diving deep into the innards of the engine assembly. The semblance of chaos masked the true sophistication of this several-meter thick layer of machinery: every last wire had been carefully placed to help transform and regulate the megawatts of power required by ion drive’s discharge grates. The hazardous nature of this high-voltage mass was challenged only by the rows of large, bright-green Xenon cylinders that lined the wall behind him. Though the Xenon that served as their propellant was inert, the only way to store an ample supply was to keep it pressurized in these tanks at hundreds of thousands of atmospheres. Kurt chose not to think about what even a small puncture would do to the ship.
He scanned the room until he spotted Nadya in the far left corner of the ceiling working with Maurice on a propellant transfer pipe. Kurt grabbed a railing for leverage, and gave himself a moderate push in their direction. Neither noticed him approach. Maurice was carefully holding a valve in position as Nadya laser-welded it onto a feed pipe from a near-by cylinder. Kurt caught a hand-hold in the ceiling, and watched from a distance. Every few seconds Nadya paused and used a small probe to check for weak spots. The high pressures of the Xenon gas demanded that the welds be near-perfect. He turned away from the bright blue light as she began welding again, and only realized she was done when she said, “This looks good enough. I didn’t like the readings I was getting earlier.”
Turning back to her, he asked, “What, you found a crack?”
“No…no, nothing that bad. I did a quick pressure test before, and this valve showed some vibration. If it got just a little worse, there’d be a risk of a crack forming. The last thing I’d want to do is to tell Jack he’d have to shut his engines down in the middle of some maneuver.”
Nadya looked over to Maurice, who was not so subtly taking quick glances down at the exit hatch. She let him off the hook, saying, “Thanks for the help.”
“No prob,” he answered and launched himself toward the door. Kurt just shook his head as the man exited the room.
“I think he’s getting weirder,” Nadya said while stowing her tools in an equipment bag. “He barely said two words to me the whole time we were working here.”
“I know what you mean. We’ve been together what, ten years on this mission, and I can’t say that I know him.”
Nadya led the way back down to the floor. “I sometimes wonder why he’s even here.”
“He was Palmer’s pick.”
“I know that. It just doesn’t seem like he fits.”
“I just know that he served with Palmer on Ganymede station. Jack told me Maurice even saved Palmer’s life when a drilling platform depressurized. I guess Palmer felt he owed him.”
Nadya answered with a quiet “Hmmm” as she placed her tool bag in small compartment by the hatch.
Deciding he’d had enough of that subject, Kurt said, “Claire says you think you can push the engines to a hundred-fifteen percent.”
“You know they’re rated up to that.”
“Of course. But did you ever push them that high during trials back home?”
“Yeah.”
“OK, for how long?”
There was a distinct pause before she answered, “About thirty seconds. I didn’t see any point to pressing any harder during testing.”
“Alright, how about the Xenon then?”
“It’s going to eat up a good deal of the stuff. But...”
“But?”
“Let me finish,” she answered with some agitation. “I checked the spectra of E-Eri-D’s atmosphere. It’s got trace amounts of it; about fifty percent more even than Earth. We’ll be able to filter enough out to refuel.”
“Lieutenant Commander?” the computer’s voice called out.
“Yes, what is it?”
“The captain’s on final approach. He’ll be on board in about five minutes.”
“Thank you.”
The machine continued, “The captain asked that you meet him in the conference room. He wants to be briefed as soon as he gets aboard.”
“Got it.” He turned to Nadya and said, “Well, it looks like you finished just in time.”
“Like there was any doubt?” she shot back with a smile. “And, Claire should be about done with her analysis, so we’ll be able to charge the plates right away. Tell Jack we’ll be ready to move as soon as he gives the word.”
Kurt was halfway out the door when Nadya called back to him, “Ask Claire to come in here as soon as she’s done out there, will you?”
“OK.” He sealed the hatch behind him, and tuned to Claire who was still busy at the reactor control panel. He opened his mouth to relay Nadya’s message but didn’t get the chance.
“Don’t worry, I heard her. I’ve got one more simulation I need to run, then I’ll go in.”
“Thanks.” He started down the corridor, then stopped for a second to let his eyes adapt. Though normally adequately lit, the hall seemed dark compared to the brightly lit engine room. He took advantage of the pause to tap his comm. unit and say, “Bridge.” It beeped in response and he continued, “Kate, Kurt here. Any updates on raising Shuttle-two on the radio?”
“Sorry, but no. The adjustments worked. I’m getting the amplification I thought we needed but we’re not getting any signal. It’s like they’re not...” Her voice trailed off.
Kurt gave her a second before answering. “I understand. Just keep trying.”
All Kate managed was a subdued, “OK.”
He disengaged the comm. unit, and stopped himself from shouting the few choice words that formed in his mind – it wouldn’t do any good. Instead he just pounded the wall lightly. He didn’t want to go into the briefing and tell Jack the shuttle was still lost. There was no reason to be afraid of Jack’s reaction. It wasn’t his style to lay into people. Deep down, Kurt knew the real source of his fear: he still didn’t want to admit that any of this was even happening. Stating it outright to Jack meant it was real. It took a deliberate effort to push the self-doubt from his mind before heading down the corridor at a brisk pace.
The conference room was just off from the bridge – at the opposite end of the ship from engineering. At very least he wanted to get there, and have everything ready before Jack arrived. He turned down the last stretch of hallway as Devon’s voice cut through the air on the ship-wide intercom. “Attention. We will be engaging engines at full power in three minutes. Please prepare for acceleration.”
Kurt ducked into the room and the lights automatically flickered to life, revealing a simulated pine-paneled room just large enough to hold its two-meter wide, round table, and the eight seats that circled it. He stared momentarily at the table’s fake wood trim, a match to the surrounding walls, before strapping himself into the nearest seat. Using the embedded computer console in front of him, he
brought up a schematic of the Epsilon Eri-D region. It was a simple diagram with the orbits of Epsilon Eri-D and the object marked with thin, blue arcs. He traced a line between their position and that of the object, and entered an engine thrust parameter of one-hundred-fifteen percent. The system responded with an estimated trip time of fifty-nine minutes: shorter than he expected, but longer than he wanted.
Kurt looked up just as Don and Jack entered the room. Jack gave him a quick nod before sitting down and activating a comm. channel. “Devon, we’re ready now. Engage engines.”
“Yes sir,” was the pilot’s quick response. Devon followed with an announcement over the ship-wide intercom. Immediately after, the force of the engines pulled Kurt into his seat.
“Alright,” Jack started, “tell me exactly what has happened.”
Kurt began with a detailed narrative, starting right from when Jack left for Epsilon Eri-D. He was tempted to edit out unnecessary details, but decided that it’d be better to include everything: even his own personal thoughts, as well as reviews of every bit of data he’d seen. Jack would be the better judge of what was relevant. At times Jack’s tone showed some barely-suppressed impatience; Kurt, however, knew better than to take it personally. His friend’s anger wasn’t at him: it was at not being on the bridge when they lost contact with Palmer. The meeting continued uneventfully until Devon announced that they had reached a stationary position near the object.
Jack responded to the announcement saying, “Good, hold position at one-thousand kilometers from the ring where shuttle-two was lost.”
“We’re there now,” Devon answered.
Jack cracked a slight smile at his pilot’s prescience, and replied, “I’ll be on the bridge in a minute.”
Prelude to Extinction Page 15
