Unknown

by Microsoft Office User

  81

  S

  tephen Kreveld wasn't afraid of what he was about to attempt so much as he wasn't confident he had the skills to pull it off.

  He trained in the individual procedures of aerobraking, retro-flight and vertical orbital adjustment. The problem, as he understood after George explained the strategy for docking with Andorran, was that he needed to use all three techniques simultaneously.

  “What's the worst that happens?” He whispered, not loud enough for George to hear. “You run smack into the other guys, or you fall into the atmosphere too steep. You get a little toasty, but at least you go out real quick. Hmm. Worse ways to go, I guess.”

  George studied the viop projection of the maneuver’s program. “You have something to add, Kreveld?”

  “Me? Nope. It's all been said. We got 50 seconds to roll-back.”

  “At 30 seconds, adjust vector heading minus-fourteen point seven-five degrees; simultaneous pitch alteration of seven-zero degrees.”

  The increase in velocity had accomplished part one of this maneuver: New Terra passed 200 meters directly above Andorran, and at the point of the upcoming maneuver it would be approximately 800 meters directly ahead of the giant ship.

  “Forty seconds,” Stephen said.

  “Prepare for first shift.”

  “What happens if we don't get this right the first time?”

  “What do you think?” George said with no change of expression.

  Stephen’s fingers raced across the forward control panel, and the effects of his handiwork were felt immediately, as New Terra's orientation shifted dramatically. The shuttle in essence fell into a position dead ahead of Andorran – a collision course – and it entered into an orbital orientation perpendicular to Andorran.

  “Good work,” George nodded flatly. “Reduce forward velocity eight-five percent and prepare to shut down thrusters at five seconds before roll-back.”

  “Done.”

  The effect was for Stephen surreal. When Andorran was a forward target, it seemed as if New Terra were flying like a dart around the Earth, quickly catching up to the dramatically larger ship. But with thrusters off, and with Earth now viewed from an entirely new perspective, Stephen felt as if the ship were simply floating.

  In looking through the forward viewport, he saw not the great ship of legend or the planet of blue and white, but rather he saw stars. Nothing but millions of stars.

  For a few seconds, he was at peace. Then he found himself doing a double take.

  “Damn,” he said.

  “Prepare to shut down thrusters and enter roll-back.”

  “George, I swear the stars just moved. The damn lot of them.”

  “It's the orientation shift, Stephen. Prepare for roll-back.”

  Rather than remain focused on space, Stephen looked down at the forward controls. At the five-second mark, he sent the order to shut down the thrusters.

  George studied the viop as those last five seconds were eliminated. “Two, one ... beginning roll-back. Viop shows we have perfect alignment with docking spiral 12. Sixty seconds to rendezvous. Prepare to fire retros at 10 percent load.”

  “That weren't such a tough play,” Stephen said.

  He, too, studied the viop, which showed them everything they needed to know as Andorran closed in on New Terra. The docking spiral they targeted was on an external pylon connected to the segment of Andorran housing the living quarters. Such pylons, none more than a few meters tall and wide, were attached to all the primary segments of Andorran.

  “I'm releasing the docking grapples,” George announced.

  A low hiss preceded the hum of elegant machinery in motion.

  “Forty seconds to rendezvous,” Stephen said. “And ... oh, damn. I'm telling you, George, the stars are moving.”

  “Keep your eyes on the viop and get ready for ...”

  George's words were halted by the blare of a klaxon. They understood why the computer was indicating a major malfunction.

  “Look at that,” George said, pointing inside the viop, where the schematic of Andorran changed dramatically. Crooked rays of green and yellow raced deep inside the ship from a point near ...

  “The cargo bay. There's been an explosion.”

  “I knew we were stepping into a mess,” Stephen said.

  “How much time?”

  “Twenty-five seconds to ... are you kidding me?”

  “We've got orbital shift. The explosion has altered Andorran's orbital integrity. Calculating variance. Vector adjustment one point eight-three degrees.”

  “Making adjustment.”

  “Not enough. Orbital integrity dropping. Two point six-one degrees.”

  Stephen's eyes shifted between the viop image and the forward control panel as he tried to alter New Terra's retro-course to fit the sudden, dramatic shifting of Andorran. These two vessels were going to collide, no doubt, in less than 15 seconds. At that instant, he couldn't have cared less about why the stars were shifting or why part of Andorran had just been ripped apart by an explosion.

  The only thing Stephen knew was that if those docking grapples did not mate precisely with Andorran, there was going to be a large, albeit very brief fireball.

  He did not want to be inside it.

  82

  T

  he Fyal ships now on approach to Earth would have been terrifying even in a dream. In reality, they were far more paralyzing, for Lara knew the horror they were about to bring to her world.

  Against the backdrop of millions of stars, they seemed enormous, more so than she remembered from Centauri III. As these ovoid monsters plowed through the darkness and neared the mouth of space which was turned inside-out by the sheer will of billions of Fyal, Lara thought of defeat.

  The first thought of imminent death.

  And she realized that, at the very least, she would be with Daniel.

  But her thoughts – all of them – and her horror were shaken as the wall of the IPG core buckled behind her, foisting her helpless body away from the wall, then sucking it back in again.

  If there was physical pain, Lara did not feel it – or at least could not be concerned with it in this moment of chaos.

  Andorran rumbled, then shook, and she felt her compressed body being tossed within the EVA suit. Her first conclusion, reached in a millisecond, was that the Fyal ships had broken through into Earth space, hurling their massive frames violently toward the planet, now crushing down upon Andorran, blowing apart the insignificant Earth ship en route to a much bigger target.

  But a millisecond later, reality overwhelmed her.

  The core was not only shaking violently, but indeed was leaning, as if falling over on itself. And in that instant when Lara knew this rumble was coming not from forces beyond but rather somewhere else within the ship, her eyes caught hold of the traveler, who was falling back, losing balance.

  Lara fell from her grip against the core wall, landing hands-first to the floor. Her lungs were light, fluffy, and oxygen suddenly circulated evenly. Her body once again filled out the EVA suit properly.

  She looked directly ahead, and the Fyal that had integrated so awkwardly with the human traveler was now phase-shifting. From the human/Fyal convolution shot forth shadows, and they spun wildly through the core, barely discernible through the red glow.

  The vortex which the Nya-phur’um created was still spinning at the same dimensions around the core, but the air pressure was clearly lightened, and the force of the vortex did not throw Lara back.

  The rumbling lasted a few seconds, and as it ended and the traveler regained solid footing, Lara met the woman's eyes head-on.

  Providence intervened, for Lara knew the Nya-phur’um would be without focus for a few seconds, its mission in jeopardy.

  She glanced above and again witnessed the impossible – the hull of the IPG core was phase-shifting exactly like the Fyal, and beyond the Andorran, shadows fell over the Fyal s
hips. Stars were turning inside out each other.

  Lara relied upon her only viable instinct and pushed herself up, ran straight through the vortex. Only then did she realize the lazgun was no longer in her possession, but she did not slow down.

  Fran Conner was smiling.

  83

  A

  lmost,” the pilot of New Terra said. “Almost.” George repeated himself as the Andorran's docking spiral and the grapples of New Terra closed to less than 30 meters of each other.

  The viop showed slight misalignment, and the counter fell under 10 seconds to rendezvous. Stephen eschewed his lack of religious conviction and whispered, “Do us right this one time and I'll try not to be such an asshole from now on.”

  “Five, four, three …”

  “Almost. Almost. Half-degree and ...”

  “Got it.”

  “Nailed it.”

  “One ...”

  The viop schematic illustrated the perfect configuration of the docking mates, but the ships collided hard, and New Terra buckled simultaneous to the sound of metal slamming together.

  They fell silent for the next few seconds, shocked that this docking actually worked, but waiting to learn if there was any kind of residual damage. When the computer did not pronounce any such trouble, Stephen whistled.

  “Son of a bitch.” He clapped and looked to George. “This is why you're the captain and I'm just the co-pilot.”

  George turned his attention to the viop display of Andorran.

  “Listen up. We've got a lot of work and we're going to have to move fast. From what I can see, it looks like about 20 percent of Andorran's infrastructure just imploded. But no major buttresses or exterior struts appear to have been damaged. Judging from this, I'd deduce it was straddle bombs. Directionally placed, carefully charged. Those Front Guarders knew exactly what they were doing.”

  “They must have blown themselves up.”

  “No. Take a look at the cargo bay. Except for the forward internal bulkhead, there's no damage and the PAC ship is intact. I expect we'll see the entire complement of Front Guarders start to move on the command deck any second.”

  “Oh, we're having some fun now. What's next?”

  “I'm going to tell the crew we've arrived. In the meantime, I want you to go back into the cabin, prepare for emergency medical containment. I hope we won't need the equipment, but that was a tremendous explosion. We may need to provide care en route home. Also, we'll need our Fountains. Arm the blast guns.”

  With his tongue in his cheek and with a simple nod, Stephen said, “Had a wicked feeling we might need those bad boys.”

  As the co-pilot unbuckled his shoulder strap, George reached out to him. “We have an orientation dilemma, Stephen, so I'm going to disengage the primary gravity stamp. Grab hold and watch your head as you move around, because you're going to be floating. When we get everyone on board, I'll reconfigure the G-stamp.”

  “Good deal,” Stephen said as he removed the strap and braced one hand against the top of the cockpit. “Didn't get to do this in training.”

  George shook d focused on the forward control panel.

  “Andorran, Andorran, this is New Terra. We have a rendezvous on docking spiral 12. Do you copy?”

  There was silence.

  “Andorran, we have arrived. Please advise as to your condition. We are aware of the explosion. What is your status?”

  A man coughed twice, then finally responded. “New Terra, um, this is ... we don't know what's happening. We have systems failing everywhere. Tubes are completely offline, some destroyed. We, um, excuse me ... I'm trying to figure this out. OK, I was waiting for backup computer matrix to take over; our primary system has failed. The main atmospheric control units in SECS 4 through 9 have disengaged.”

  George had to interrupt. “Andorran, who is speaking?”

  “Um, yes, New Terra, this is Anatoly Tryvinski. I, um, Mifuro are you ... OK, Mifuro says he's OK. We were thrown back by the explosion. Mifuro says he might have sprained a wrist. New Terra, what's happening? I just tried to contact our other people. We've got four crewmates and I'm not getting anything from them on the RIF. Mifuro, you hearing anything?”

  “No,” the Japanese prince replied. “Can you find them on the sensor array?”

  “The array is down, like everything else.”

  George said calmly: “Anatoly, Mifuro, listen carefully to me. I am examining a viop of Andorran, and I see three crewmates in the ship's stern. Engineering. You said there were four?”

  “Yes.”

  “I ... wait, there is considerable interference through the damaged portions of the ship, but I may be detecting a faint life sign. But it's difficult to say for certain. No, no. Yes, definitely a false reading. I only read the three crewmates in the stern.”

  He got no immediate response.

  “Understand this, Andorran. You have been crippled by straddle bombs. I am showing 10 Front Guard soldiers spanning out from the PAC shuttle and proceeding through the damaged zone. They are no doubt fully equipped to deal with any segment of the ship in which the life support systems have failed, or where there have been hull breaches. It is imperative we get the five of you to New Terra immediately and leave as soon as possible.”

  “Agreed, New Terra,” Mifuro replied. “But I do not know if we will be able to reach our crewmates in engineering quickly enough. Our SlipTubes are down, and our route will be circuitous at best. We would need seven to eight minutes to reach engineering, and we do not know the status of the others.”

  “Understood, Andorran. You and Anatoly should proceed at once to docking spiral 12. My co-pilot and I will make a run for engineering. We are already halfway there relative to the command deck. According to the viop, your route along the ship's front port quadrant should be clear. But keep to that route, please. I am detecting a number of significant stress deficiencies in the pods starboard of that route.”

  “We'll begin immediately, New Terra. And please, continue to search for a fourth life sign. Boris Leonov was close to the source of the explosion, but he may have been able to shield himself. We were trying to jettison the cargo bay, but Boris had not programmed the anterior struts to disengage from …”

  “Yes, yes, Andorran. My co-pilot and I will be equipped with Fountains. Something you're probably not familiar with, but we'll be able to find him if he's still alive. Please, hurry. We will do the same.”

  George unstrapped himself and floated back into the cabin of New Terra. “Everything ready to go?”

  “We're set,” Stephen said, the Fountain attached to the outer edge of his left eye socket. He wore a portable survival unit, featuring an emergency oxygen supply and a medical kit.

  To his side, he held the standard sidearm of Second Sunrise: the R-40 blast gun. Its black shaft extended a foot from the trigger button.

  “It's all there, George,” Stephen pointed to his captain's side, where emergency oxygen, Fountain, medical kit and blast gun were arranged together on a clamp shelf.

  George supplied himself and turned to his co-pilot.

  “No wise cracks, no delays,” he said. “We've got five men and women to rescue and damn little time. And I don't want to have to use this.” He raised the blast gun, then allowed himself to float up into the docking tube.

  Stephen followed, and he was unusually quiet.

  84

  L

  ara lunged forward through the red haze, moving as swiftly as her suit would allow. Fran neither retreated nor seemed particularly concerned, maintaining a welcoming smile.

  Lara knew as she came face to face with this woman that there was only one possible outcome if the preservation of her own life and that of billions of others meant anything. Nonetheless, she hesitated, and then almost before she could think of them, words came desperately to her lips, and she shouted through the helmet.

  “Fran! Fran, listen to me. I know you're not dead, but I know this
isn't really you. There is a Fyal spirit within you, controlling everything around us. Please try to search your mind and you'll know what I'm telling you is true. Break away from it. Expel it, Fran.” She yelled, now shaking the woman with both hands. “This spirit can do nothing without you. Expel it. I don't want to kill you.”

  The eyes of the biologist were focused, unmoving, and Lara could not see any life of their own. They stared through and beyond her.

  And although the traveler's lips did not move, again there were words: “These are good folks when you get to know them, Lara. You've met Sh'hun before. Sh'hun just wants to carry out the only option his people have left, Lara. They're not an enemy. They're just looking to survive like the rest of us.”

  Shadows swirled around them both, but their course was definitive, and Lara realized they were returning from whence they came. As they began to flow back into the phase-shifting Fyal, Lara understood that focus had returned, and with it, inevitably, the completion of the journey of four Fyal ships.

  She made a final plea, stepped back from the traveler. “I beg of you, Fran. Don't sacrifice us for them. Don't make me sacrifice you.”

  “Wouldn’t just be me, Lara,” the voice of Fran Conner echoed. “No, ma'am. Now, Sh'hun himself, he was willing to chalk up the big one in the name of his people when he let us kill his body 15 years ago. But that's just the way they are, Lara. Good, unselfish sorts. But you kill this traveler, and you're gonna send Daniel scattered to every corner of the universe. Sacrifice is a hell of a concept, Lara, but I don't think humans ever came to appreciate its greater value.”

  It was the mere mention of his name that crimped her resolve for a few seconds, and before she could rally her emotions, refocus her determination and lash out at the traveler one final, decisive time, Lara was caught unprepared as the traveler lunged, then hurled her right fist sharply into Lara's belly.

  As she reeled from the blow, Lara felt a sharp kick fall into her right side, and she was thrown off her feet, back and away from the traveler.