Again, Colonist Owen looked nervous but continued since all eyes were on him. “The temporary engines will be jettisoned once the more volatile liquid hydrogen is burned. We’ll count on our main engines burning metallic hydrogen.” I didn’t add what I suspected, that our main engine was a hybrid capable of ion drive thrust. Pretty advanced, and expensive.
I stepped close to Colonist Owen, who was watching a game of dominoes from afar. “You’re not R-Tech, are you?”
He experienced an internal debate. We stepped out of earshot of the other colonists. “No, Specialist,” he said with a little disgust. “I figured talking would give it away.”
“Did you really work maintenance for a military contractor?”
“Yes—yes I did.” He chuckled to himself. “Guess it really doesn’t matter now.”
“Your skills always matter,” I said.
“No, that’s not it. See, I worked for Blue Star Industries, a subsidiary of Capital Galactic.” He ground his teeth in thought, and looked around. “Let’s just say that Blue Star was involved in questionable acquisitions.” He paused. “I blew the whistle.” He slid to a bench, but changed his mind about sitting. “To make a long story short, my contract was non-renewed. Somehow my benefits were forfeit. My local representative, who was supposed to look out for me, was less than helpful.”
“Not all politicians respond to their constituent’s needs,” I agreed.
“Bought, would be more accurate.” He shook his head. “Government work was out. I took the first thing I found.”
“I recently signed on with Negral,” I said. “Its future seems bright.”
“Yeah, I was desperate and sold myself cheap. And after that cold sleep transport. These facilities.” He looked around. “A few of the maintenance crew were here earlier. Said you petitioned Negral to improve the place.”
“Negral is a new corporation,” I said. “It’ll cut corners where it can.”
We sat in silence for quite a while. I checked several security views through my ocular and sound through my com-set. All appeared in order.
“Approaching con-gate, Captain,” came over my com-set.
“Jettison auxiliary engines,” ordered Captain Tilayvaux. The two lifeless rockets catapulted way. “Initiate sequence to enter condensed space travel.”
Almost on cue, Instructor Watts handed me the domino and checker set. “They’re finishing up their card game.”
I stood and led Instructor Watts toward the holo-projector. Looking back, “Colonist Owen,” I said, and signaled him to join us. Grudgingly, he did.
The Kalavar’s constant acceleration propelled us toward the con-gate. The view from the satellite was imperfectly angled, but reasonable. I set my com-set for broadcast, but with a two-second delay for security purposes.
“Establish anti-gravity field,” ordered the captain. Her measured and precise voice gathered colonists’ attention.
“Established,” responded the navigator.
“Mavinrom Dock,” called the captain. “Is the gate aligned?”
“Affirmative,” answered the dock controller. “Transport Kalavar. Con-gate is aligned for transport from Gliese 876, the Mavinrom Colony to Zeta Aquarius en route to HD 222582, the Tallavaster Colonies.”
“Acknowledged,” said the captain. “Destination, Zeta Aquarius.” She paused. “Request activation of con-gate.”
“Request received, transport Kalavar. Activation sequence engaged.”
The Kalavar continued its approach. The angled view into the con-gate revealed a five-stage distortion within the enormous rings.
“All readings are stable,” stated the controller. “Condensation ratio 51.375K.”
“Acknowledged” said Captain Tilayvaux. “C.R. is 51,375 to 1. Estimated arrival to initial destination, five months, eighteen days.”
“Good luck, Kalavar. Mavinrom Dock, out.”
Every colonist held his breath as the Kalavar accelerated into the gate. I found myself holding, too, while a sensation, like a thin film of water washing over and through my body, preceded a feeling of being pulled without movement. The anticipatory anxious feeling followed.
Smiles, hugs and backslaps ended with a few cheers and shouts. Then the crowd, taking my advice, dispersed to their rooms. I loitered a few minutes, gathering my playing cards before departing.
I caught up with Mer as he shuffled down the pallet-narrowed corridor leading to our rooms. “Mer, give me a second and I’ll return your hand radio.”
“Sure thing, Kra. Just come on over.”
Benny wasn’t in. I pulled the finished carving of two guppies from the canvas sack and grabbed the hand radio. I tapped lightly on Mer’s door. It slid open. The old man stood in front of this fish tanks.
“How are they adjusting to the travel?” I walked over to see. Most were swimming normally. A few younger ones darted about erratically, while three or four corkscrewed through the water. “Will those make it?”
“They might adjust,” he said. “Just set the radio on the bed.”
“I brought this, too,” I said, handing him the finished carving. “I don’t have any paints, nor am I very talented when it comes to their application.”
“This looks finer than anything I’ve seen in a long time. No need for paint.” He shuffled over to his shelf and slid other knickknacks aside. “Ever since I saw you working on it, I’ve been anxious to see it finished.”
“Carving gives me something to do,” I said. “Relaxes me.”
“Playing cards was relaxing, too,” Mer said, yawning. “Maybe we’ll do it again sometime?”
“Anytime I’m not on duty. I’ll leave a deck under my pillow if I’m not available.” I edged toward the door. “I have a full schedule tomorrow so I’ll take my leave.” I turned to go and felt my balance shift. “What was that?” His expression indicated it wasn’t my imagination.
“Felt like something shoved her in the side,” Mer said. “There she goes again.”
“A disruption in the anti-grav field?”
“Don’t know, Kra. Hold on.” Mer shuffled over to his wall computer and activated it.
Captain Tilayvaux’s face appeared. “You felt it, too,” she said.
Mer asked, “Well, what was it?”
“We’re checking.” She moved to peer over the navigator’s shoulder. The camera view followed.
I started to ask a question, but Mer signaled for my silence. Why would the captain discuss the malfunction, or anomaly, with Mer?
With a grim look the captain stated, “Readings are consistent with the near passage of two message rockets. One may be parallel to our trajectory. The other along a similar, but not parallel, vector.” She looked back to the navigator. “We can’t be sure.”
“The dock wouldn’t have sent something our direction through the con-gate so soon.”
“I agree,” said the captain. She looked back at the navigator. “Lieutenant Pidsadaki believes they were ship launched and entered condensed space independently.”
Mer scratched his head. “Could’ve been the military transport sending an update on the Crax invasion of Felgan space.”
Mer didn’t sound convinced of his last statement. Crax invasion? I struggled to remain silent. A message rocket with internal cascading atomic engine? It would be hard to imagine what could justify such an astronomical expense with a con-gate available.
“The Pars Griffin,” said Captain Tilayvaux.
Mer nodded. “Do you recommend bringing the main thrust engine to emergency acceleration?”
“If the cascading atomic engine can accommodate it,” she said. “Chief Engineer Harkins and Security Chief Brold have been monitoring. We’ll get on the calculations and risk analysis. Keep you advised. Out.”
Mer switched off his computer and stiffly settled into his chair. After a second he slammed his fist against the armrest. “Them devils,” he seethed. He hissed, releasing a pent up breath before glancing at me calm as ever. “Maybe you heard
more than you should’ve.” He didn’t wait for a response. “Wondering why the captain consulted me?”
My mind was in full gear. “That,” I agreed, “among other things.”
“You’d have figured it out soon enough,” he said. “The captain, she commands the Kalavar. But I own her.” He held up a finger. “The other things...don’t forget’em. But don’t ask or talk about’em.”
It’d be hard. “Understood.” I stepped smoothly out as Mer reclined and stared at the ceiling.
Two hours later I finally dozed off.
Chapter 25
All interstellar ships simulate Earth’s twenty-four hour cycle. Appropriate UV radiation is provided during daylight hours. After nightfall the lights are dimmed, the temperature is lowered by several degrees Celsius, and UV emissions are significantly reduced. Mission critical areas are exempt.
Such implementations have been standard practice since the inception of interstellar flight. When such a regimen was absent, psychological factors including stress, fatigue, and irritability increased, leading to disruptive and dangerous consequences.
“This corn is excellent,” I said before gnawing another bite from the cob.
“The authentic butter is the real treat,” decided Security Specialist Frost.
“...I liked last week’s black raspberry yogurt better,” said Benny, despite the fact he’d already finished his corn.
I conjured the yogurt memory and compared it to tonight’s experience. “I agree with you, Benny. Even better than the first week’s treat, authentic maple syrup.”
“Nawh,” said Frost. “It tasted the same as synthetic yogurt.”
“Not quite,” I disagreed. “The texture, that’s the difference. Mixing chemicals to fool the taste buds is easier than concocting the proper texture.”
“...Does not matter,” Benny said, wiping his hands on his cloth napkin square. “It is better than standard food.”
“How often do the first classers dine like this?” I asked.
“More than us,” said Frost. “But less than they’d like.”
I didn’t want to dwell on the fact that my meal was almost finished. “Frost, how goes roving patrol?”
“Spend most of my time assigned to engineering. Either aft near the thrust engines or forward around the cascading. Lot of activity there.” Frost tossed his barren cob onto his tray. “How about the colonists?”
“They’ve located the security cameras and recording devices.” I moved my cleaned cob aside and searched for butter to sop up with my bread. “The few I’ve identified as probable transgressors avoid the monitored areas.”
“Does your sec-bot help out?”
“Lefty’s there twenty-four hours a day, except for maintenance and recharge. They like the sec-bot less than me.” I finished my juice. “I’m in contact with their instructors. Diesel mechanics, agriculture and livestock management. They keep the adults busy with training and after hour assignments.”
“You’re helping out the youth instructor, too.” Frost grinned and shook his head. “Seen you and Corporal Smith in the shuttle bay playing ballgames with the colonist kids.”
“Yeah, sometimes I cover their recreation time in the marine training area. Only open place available except for the first class ballroom.”
“Saw that Chicher with you,” said Frost. “What’s it there for?”
I smiled. “Umpire.”
“What’s it know of—what’s that ballgame?”
“Whiffle ball. Can you think of a more impartial umpire?”
“It’s a diplomat. Hasn’t it got anything better to do?”
“That’s the point, a diplomat. Apparently not.” Frost looked puzzled. “The missionary suggested him,” I said. “Don’t ask me. I’ve had a few meals with the diplomat. Chicher are used to running in packs, so I suppose any interaction keeps him occupied.” I watched for Frost’s reaction. “And he’s a good ump.”
Frost squinted, saying, “I don’t know. What do the colonists think of their kids running with an overgrown rat?”
“It’s good for them. They need to get used to aliens if they’re going to be light years from Earth.”
“From where does this wisdom rise?” Frost grinned again. “Personal experience?”
I shook my head. “No. Common sense. Heard of it?”
“Yeah, unfortunately I left it under my pillow the day I signed on.”
Before I could respond, Benny said, “We have your marbles and leaping cords in Maintenance.”
“Jump ropes, thanks,” I said. “And I’ll need to speak with your maintenance buddies about activating some of the dormant security monitors.”
“...You will need to schedule it with Gudkov,” Benny said without emotion. “We are working with engineering on several projects.”
I wasn’t thrilled to work with Gudkov. “I’ll speak with him at our next security meeting.”
We stared at our empty plates. I was about to get up when Frost looked around and signaled me closer. “I wouldn’t doubt that Gudkov and his pals have something brewing, if you know what I mean.”
I nodded. “I’ve done my best to avoid Gudkov, Haxon and Senior Engineer McAllister.” Benny could hear so I kept formal when naming McAllister. “Occasionally, I check under my pillow.”
“I don’t know about McAllister,” Frost said, “but your avoidance has irked Gudkov. If Haxon didn’t have separate duties, I’d mistake him for Gudkov’s shadow.”
Frost probably knew more than he let on, but any information was helpful. No sense pushing. “His choice,” I said.
Frost scanned the area and gathered his tray. “Gentlemen.”
Benny watched him leave. “He is hoping for trouble between you and Gudkov.”
“I know. He may not be completely looking out for my interests, but he certainly isn’t for Gudkov.” I finished my drink and checked my watch. I still had a few minutes. “Mer mentioned getting together for cards.”
“...I am free. Any suggestions for a fourth?”
“I could get Lowell Owen, one of the colonists,” I said, “or maybe Corporal Smith again.”
I saw the look in Benny’s eye as he formed the words. “...What about Janice?”
“She’s your friend, Benny. If you want her to play, you can ask her.”
“...She won’t show unless you ask.”
“Janice is a very nice lady,” I said. “And I’m sorry if my quartering assignment has disrupted your friendship.”
“...I know last time you asked—”
“Yes, last time I asked, Administrative Specialist Tahgs said she refused to fill in until Dancer Jazarine received her temporary prosthetics.”
“...I know,” he said, looking away. “She really had fun when we played.”
“So did I. Tell you what, after I make my rounds I’ll track Specialist Tahgs down and ask her, one more time. After that, it’s up to you.”
About a half hour later I contacted Benny over my com-set. “Sorry, she has other, indefinite plans. Let me know if you find a fourth. I’ll be in the gym working out.”
“...Guess you were right, Kra.”
“You can always get her and someone else. Cards are under my pillow.”
“...No. Mer and I will probably watch an old flat screener. You can join us.”
“Maybe later, thanks. Out.”
“Who you talking to, Keesay?” asked Smith, slapping me on the shoulder. “Getting used to that modern hardware?”
“Benny. I was just heading to the gym to work out. Need to improve my athletic prowess if we’re going to beat your team.”
“Those kids really get into that whiffle ball don’t they? Where’d you come up with those nicknames?”
“Came up with what seemed to fit.”
Smith checked his watch. “About three days from now, I have you scheduled for another trouncing.” He stopped and motioned the other direction. “Hey, if you got a few minutes to kill we can check out that recording.”<
br />
“I’m not sure. It might invoke flashbacks and nightmares.”
“What, of Pillar kicking your ass?” He shook his head. “If you suffered a nightmare every time you were reminded of a sound thumping.”
“What makes you think I get thumped on a regular basis?”
“Remind me. Is this the second full week I haven’t seen you with a black eye or a fat lip?”
“And how many weeks have you known me?”
“Too many. Now let’s go relive some fond memories.”
I followed him to the marine quartering that consisted of a large barracks area with equipment stored every, and anywhere. Several marines were sleeping. Training holos occupied the others. After rummaging through his duffle bag Smith called, “DeLark.”
The young marine hopped off his bunk and trotted over. I recognized him from the dock shooting range. “Yes, Corporal,” he said in his uncharacteristically high voice.
“Keesay here is interested in viewing a target shooting competition.” Smith grinned. “You haven’t seen it either?”
DeLark split a wide smile and slapped me on the shoulder. “Yeah, I’d be interested.”
“Here,” said Smith. “See if you can load this memory chip into the mini-simulator.”
“Right away, Corporal.”
We followed Private DeLark at a leisurely pace. “A large transport full of marines docked just before we departed. You know anything about it, Keesay?”
I shook my head. “No.” Maybe it had to do with the Crax invasion of Felgan space, but I said nothing. “Saw one docked when we departed.”
“The Iron Wagon,” he said. “Fast transport. Carries the Third Colonial Marines, the Scrap-Iron Division.” He waited for a response.
“I know of them. Best trained. Toughest of the elite.”
He stepped a little closer and lowered his voice. “Did you know a battle group including the Spine Crusher and Hornet Nest was stationed on the other side of Mavinrom?”
“A battle cruiser and heavy carrier behind the planet? Orbiting opposite the dock? No.”
“You do now,” Smith said. “Heard they were waiting for reinforcements.”
“That would eliminate any training exercise theories,” I said.
Relic Tech Page 31
