by Chris Burton
“A small moon, nine days away at maximum ion thrust. The atmosphere will be a bit lively, with temperature extremes and volcanic activity, but the air is partially breathable and we should be able to put down, so long as we can find a solid base. Bit difficult to tell from this distance. I am dispatching an Eagle to assess further.”
“Okay, well at least there is something out there, although it sounds a bit hazardous. Any sign of the Kryl?”
“No, but our long range scanners are struggling now too. We are looking at them, but for now, we may not have much notice if the Kryl come back.”
“Get them up and running soon, Number One. Without them, we really are in trouble.”
“Just another nail in our…”
“Don’t say it. We are still in this and I am not about to let five hundred people loose their lives.”
* * * *
The one remaining reserve power generator continued working for a further five hours, before it finally gave way; just long enough to allow the engineering team to complete the cooling process on the ion drive power couplets. The chief was in the process of updating his commanding officer.
“Still looking for economies of time; but we should have her stripped down within the hour. Then we can re-bore and put her back together. We should have the drive back on-line within six.”
“Our air supply is now thinning Chief. Any longer and we will start to struggle. Have you been able to work out what’s wrong with our scanners?”
“I have a second external survey team looking at them now. The first had to abandon because of excessive spacial environmental risk. We chose a bad place to stop.”
“I think we chose a bad day. Full stop. Probably should have stayed in dock. Seriously chief, anything you can do to speed this up…a temporary fix, just to get us through the next week or so.”
“We are too far out for a temporary fix. With no stellar drive, nine days of maximum thrust on the ion drive means my repairs have to be spot on. We have no choice.”
Smith’s lapel comm.link flashed again. The XO.
“Wesley…we have a new problem.”
“What this time?”
“There is a fissure crack in the main arterial fuselage which has split onto the bulkheads on opposing sides. The ship is splitting in half down the middle.”
Smith put his head in has hands in utter disbelief. He did not reply straight away.
“I thought we checked the bulkheads?”
“We did. It is only a stress fracture; but as soon as we hit the ion drive…”
“Can we patch it up?”
“We are looking to fit temporary stress relievers behind each bulkhead. But we can’t be sure what the tolerances are until we are at speed.”
“This is getting ridiculous. The ship is a death trap!”
“All we can do is proceed as we are.”
Smith hung up. His XO was right as usual. They had to work through each problem as it materialized.
“Chief. I will leave you to get on. Let me know if there are any changes. I am going to take a look at the bulkheads.”
* * * *
The main arterial fuselage is the starting point from which all others are added. It runs from fore to aft in one direction and then across from port to starboard. The ships bulkheads are then aligned off the arterial fuselage to create the body of the ship, with sub bulkheads adding size, structure and shape, before the addition of body panels to the vessel. If the arterial fuselage is broken, the ships infrastructure is severely weakened, placing additional burden on the bulkheads or the ships rib cage. If these break too, there is nothing to stop the ship from falling apart. The basic design of Earth space craft had been the same for two hundred years and while in modern vessels, the complex and interlocking bulkheads created a far stronger shell, if the arterial fuselage was damaged, the ships cohesive qualities, especially at velocity were in jeopardy.
Wesley Smith kept his opinions to himself when his XO told him about this problem; Preferring to see the damage for himself. In a former life he had studied alpha cruiser design strategies and he had a greater understanding of what was right and what was wrong than most of his peers. He was now below the bottom deck in the service tunnels that ran the length of each bulkhead and the arterial fuselage. He could see the damage for himself.
The fissures were small cracks running from the bottom of the fuselage and breaking into smaller splinter cracks towards the top, akin to the branches of a tree. The proximity of the fissures in relation to two of the ships main bulkheads in the center of the ship meant the entire cohesion of the ship was compromised. His XO’s assessment of the problem was correct, but where she had fallen down was in how difficult it would be to rectify. Sure, stress relievers would take some of the strain away, but even at sub-light speed, they would be shaken to destruction, by the powerful forces at work at high velocity. The stress relievers would hold, but only if velocity was reduced to one quarter maximum ion drive. The journey would now take a minimum of thirty six days and not nine days.
Curiously this put less pressure on the ships climate systems, since reserve power could be diverted to ensure a more optimum production and flow of air. But the prospect of over a month of travel on a damaged ion drive, which could fail again at any time, was not exactly enticing. Yet what choice did they have? Right now, they had to repair the bulkheads and rebuild the ion drive and then get underway as soon as possible. They would deal with other problems as and when they arrived. In the meantime, they had three shuttles on board, and they could start transporting crew directly to the target moon surface. None of the shuttles had light speed capability, but they would be safer aboard the faster moving shuttles and every person taken out of the Pantheon, meant air supplies if it came down to that would last longer.
* * * *
Five hours later, the first piece of really good news arrived. The ion drive was back on-line. With the bulkheads now supported and the scanners back on-line, they could at least start to power up the life support systems and pump good clean air back into the ship. The next step was how fast could they go before the stress levels on the bulkheads started to tell?
“Air flow is now at one hundred percent. We can divert power to other systems now.”
“Thanks Number One. Power her up and take us forward at one tenth.”
Smith waited patiently. He would push this as far as he could.
“One tenth, sir. Stress tolerance indicators are flat, sir.”
“It’s a linear curve, Mister Janus. Increase to point two.”
The Pantheon accelerated gradually. In space terms this was slow, but right now going forward was a positive. One minute later, the stress tolerance results came in.
“We have movement on the stress tolerance, sir, 0.5%.”
“That’s it then two tenths ion drive power and fifty odd days to the target moon. That is not good.”
“Not so fast Number One. Remember the stress test is a linear curve and there would have been a result at point one, just a negligible one. Increase to one quarter ion velocity.”
Again a pause, as the tests were carried out; an algorithm built in as part of the acceleration process.
“Stress tolerance 0.75%, sir.”
“Thank you Mister Janus. Lets take her up a little further, increase to point three.”
The result came back faster this time.
“1.25%, sir. The curve is increasing. I…”
“The tolerance levels are still fine, Mister Janus. I want to see where the barriers are, increase to point three five”
Lieutenant Commander Benoir shifted uncomfortably in her seat.”If the curve is up, this could increase dramatically commander.”
“Thanks Number One. But we need to know exactly how much we have got and I would rather find out
now when the bulkheads are cold rather than later.”
The XO elected to defer to her commanders superior knowledge on this subject.
“Stress level is in, sir…1.95%.”
“Okay…I think that is enough. Number One. Make our speed point three five and carry out a full suite of diagnostics.”
Finally they were underway. No one knew whether they would make it, or indeed how long it would take. At least, now they had a chance.
Chapter Eight
The Storage Chamber
Dieter Muller was surprised and a little scared. He had not expected to be here; by now his exemption should have removed him and he should be back at home, planning his next Mediterranean cruise.
Klaus Meissen was true to his word. He had actually seen the entry; “Dieter Muller-exempted”. He had been only to glad to thank him. The man may now be a bit richer, but he had still put his job on the line. And yet, now he was on board a Kryl space craft, several hundred kilometers above the Earth’s surface.
It all started to go wrong twenty-four hours after Meissen posted the “exemption”. Instead of being released, Muller and twenty-two thousand other “collected” individuals were ushered into a large area behind the distribution halls, where they were segmented and then led aboard high velocity Strato shuttles for the short journey to the Central Collection Point, near Berlin. At the Central Compound they were split again according to their designated reference numbers and then nothing. For at least eight hours they waited with no communication before an administration team arrived. Their manager was curt and his speech lacked compassion. He told them no exemptions were allowed due to the shortfall in numbers and that they would shortly be transported to the Kryl vessels. Nobody had an opportunity to speak to anyone further, before the Kryl shuttles arrived to take them to their final destination. The irony of this description was not lost on the incumbent population.
So now, here he was aboard a Kryl ship. They were in a vast hanger bay, separated into four sections, with floor-to-ceiling windows across one side. Muller stood in one of the middle two sections gazing out into space and to Earth, which could be seen at the very edge of the viewing area. God, it was thing of such stature and beauty. A sight he had only seen a few times before. Space travel had not been his favorite pastime, preferring instead to remain on Earth and absorb the beauty of his own planet; venturing into the solar system and beyond, only when business or social requirements dictated. Right now, he wished he had travelled more extensively. Not because of the beauty, but because he could now be a long way from here, with his family and safe.
But he had not given up. This was not in his nature. He was an optimist and had used this together with his business acumen and cunning to build a significant textiles business on Earth, the fruit of which allowed him to live a luxurious lifestyle, for which he pacified his conscience by being an active member of his community, politically and in his justice of the peace capacity. He was a rounded individual with an extended family and fit and healthy; he should have many years in front of him. If things did not go according to plan, that vision could very soon come to an abrupt end.
His thought process was interrupted by the entrance of three Kryl, who stood on a platform in the middle, along one side of the huge chamber. These were the first Kryl he had seen. The middle Kryl now spoke.
“Members of the collective. You have been selected to provide a source of sustenance to the Kryl and your unselfish act is appreciated.”
There was silence now; he had certainly grabbed everyone’s attention. His command of the English Language was complete and his tone was without accent, crisp and audible. He continued.
“We are not animals. We take no pleasure in taking your lives. As you would look after your livestock on Earth, we will do the same with you. For many, your time together on this ship will be enduring. For others, relatively short. I regret at present, there is no provision for exemption. The collective numbers are still a long way short of the required totals. Should this change, those that remain, will be offered the opportunity to claim exemption.”
The orator paused, allowing his audience to consume the detail of his speech.
“This room is one of many aboard this ship. It is divided into four sections. The two middle sections will remain here. You are now, our medium and long term stock. Those of you to the front or the back of this hall, I regret your time with us, will be short. You will be taken to smaller chambers and from there you will be collected and distributed throughout the fleet. You will be well treated and given the opportunity to take time for yourself, before your lives are extinguished.”
He paused again. The effect of his speech had been slow to absorb as each member of the “collective” rationalized what they just heard. Those in the center, showing great relief, that for now they would live. Those on the outside, disbelief and pain and anger, which now quickly gave way to hysteria. From above, automated weapons fire took out those that sought to provoke others. Seemingly, the compassion of the orator’s speech did not extend across the Kryl populous.
As Muller watched in disbelief, the back walls of the chamber in the front and rear sections began to move in as portal doors opened, forcing the frightened melee into a new chamber. Those that resisted were taken down by weapons fire and within a few minutes the entire population of both sections of the chamber were empty.
In the middle two sections there was silence and then the orator spoke again.
“As you can see, the process is automated. Those unfortunate to have been in these chambers will be looked after; but their lives will soon come to an end. Those of you in the middle chambers will be taken to smaller domicile chambers, where you will be fed, and watered. You will be allowed to roam free within these areas and recreational facilities will be made available to you. Using human timings, it will be two to three weeks before the first of you will be called upon. Further explanation will be provided within your domicile.”
His speech over, he stepped down and the three Kryl exited the now reduced chamber as large portals opened where they had once stood and the remaining collective, were ushered forward.
Muller could not believe what he just witnessed, but took solace that by chance in he had been moved into one of the middle chambers. He still held out confidently, that he would soon be granted his freedom. He stood an even chance of lasting over three weeks. In that time and beyond, he would put aside morality and ally himself to the Kryl. He would make himself indispensable.
* * * *
Fifteen hundred kilometers away, on the planet surface, Klaus Meissen was in a good mood. He had half a million credits in his bank account and with a little luck, within a few weeks that would double. He already tendered his resignation with the police and was looking at ways in which in this windfall could now be spent.
His security comms unit bleeped to indicate he had a visitor. Strange—he was not expecting anyone. He authorized entry and stood by the front door awaiting his visitor. The door opened to reveal two patrol guards. He looked quizzically before one of them spoke.
“Inspector Meissen?”
“Yes.”
“You are charged with obtaining money by deception. Would you please come with us?”
He could not believe it. How the hell had they found out, especially so quickly? His good mood suddenly dissipated.
* * * *
Thirty minutes later, Meissen sat in the very same interview room that he had used in a work capacity many times before. This time he was in the charge chair.
“Listen Klaus…we have your financial records. We know that a large sum was credited to your account by Dieter Muller’s daughter and we know that Muller was granted exemption from being included on the collective list by you. Furthermore, we know you have now resigned your position. The evidence is compounding. Surely you are not denying that these events t
ook place.”
“I have told you; I don’t wish to comment as I might incriminate myself. That is my right.”
“And you think that we will not proceed with the prosecution without your confession. This section was set up to deal with fraud, likely to arise from this. You may be the first, but you will not be the last.”
“I have nothing further to say.”
“Fine. Klaus Meissen you are now formerly charged with obtaining money by deception. You will be detained until such time, as a legal official releases you and your bank and deposits are now all frozen. Any monies arising from proven deception will be paid into the exchequers account. Do you have anything further to add?”
“No.”
Klaus Meissen was led away. Now he had nothing.
Chapter Nine
No Confidence
Kate Jones made herself ready. As the president’s chief aide, she had borne witness to many of his greatest speeches and some of the more difficult ones. She had helped the President clear his name on many occasions. Now she watched as he entered the upper chamber. This would be a difficult day.
President Roslyn now stood at the lectern and moved his papers around purposefully, as he waited for the speaker to summon him. When everyone settled, the Earth Central Government President stood.
“Colleagues. This is indeed a difficult situation. We have seen only forty-five percent of those selected for the HSL voluntarily attending the collection center and our security forces have only secured another ten percent. We are therefore still some fifteen million people short of the Kryl’s first target.”
He paused. That was the headline figure. Now for the detail.
“It is clear there is even greater reluctance for those selected to participate because numbers are too low and exemptions are not being granted. Our security chiefs have advised their forces are reluctant to use force to persuade people to attend. It seems likely we will fall well short of the required allotment.”
