Alexis looked off into the distance again, barely able to make out the distant images while standing within Merlin’s lights.
“It’s beautiful.”
* * *
Alexis watched the sails charge from her spot on the bowsprit. A bright, azure glow covered them, shot through with sparks and bolts of darker blue and white. The fine mesh of the sails stirred and then bellied out from the mast, taking the load and pulling Merlin into motion.
In normal-space, the ship would use either its conventional drive or the sails for propulsion, tuning the sails to the gravitational signature of one or more bodies and being pulled along at a significant fraction of the speed of light. In darkspace, though, the conventional drive was useless and there were no predictable gravitational fields — only the winds that varied in strength and direction.
A slow grin crept across her face as she realized she was seeing something that very few people ever witnessed. Not even those who traveled frequently from star-system to star-system were able to see darkspace for themselves or witness the sails in action. Passenger ships had no viewports, as they preferred a solid hull to keep the darkspace radiation at bay and protect the ships’ electronics. Radiation and effects that mankind still didn’t fully understand.
The perplexing problem dated back centuries, to when mankind was still planet-bound on Earth. Scientists, theorizing about the origin of the Universe, recognized that the Universe was expanding but made the proposal that the force that had started that expansion would eventually dissipate, causing the Universe to then begin contracting again. When they measured this, however, they discovered something very odd — not only was the expansion of the Universe not slowing, but it was actually increasing.
This meant that something, something unseen, was continuing to apply energy to the Universe’s expansion. More energy than could be accounted for by what their instruments could detect. At the same time, they noticed that there seemed to be more gravitational force than could be accounted for by the observable masses of stars, planets and other objects.
There seemed to be quite a bit of the Universe that simply couldn’t be seen. Over ninety percent of the energy and matter that had to make up the Universe, in fact.
They called these dark energy and dark matter, for want of a better term.
Then, as humanity began serious utilization of near-Earth space, they made another discovery.
Lagrangian points were well-known in orbital mechanics. With any two bodies where one is orbiting around the other, such as a planet and a moon, there are five points in space where the gravitational effects of the two bodies provide precisely the centripetal force required to keep an object, if not stationary, then relatively so.
Humanity first used these points to build a space station at L1, the Lagrangian point situated midway between Earth and the Moon, thus providing a convenient stopover for further exploration of the Moon. This was quickly followed by a station at L2, the point on the far side of the moon, roughly the same distance from it as L1. Both of these stations began reporting odd radiation signatures. Radiation that had no discernible source but seemed to spring into existence from within the Lagrangian points themselves.
Further research into this odd radiation began taking place at the L4 and L5 points, which led and trailed the Moon in its orbit by about sixty degrees. More commonly referred to as Trojan Points, L4 and L5 are much larger in area than L1 and L2, and it was discovered, the unknown radiation was much more intense.
More experimentation, including several probes that simply disappeared when their hulls were charged with certain high-energy particles, eventually led to one of those probes reappearing — and the discovery of darkspace, along with the missing ninety-five percent of the Universe.
Winds, Alexis thought, watching the sails billow. Dark energy, flowing and ebbing through darkspace, typically, but not always, “blowing” toward star-systems, perhaps supplying the impetus that kept the Universe expanding at an ever faster rate. Winds that could quickly turn into storms that would blow a ship off course or strip its sails from the masts, but that could also propel a ship either faster or farther than any other form of propulsion, allowing ships to travel the light-years between systems in weeks or months. And somewhere out there, she knew, was the dark matter — hidden shoals that could pierce and crumple a ship’s hull if struck.
But what captured Alexis’ attention was the billowing, blue glow of the sails against the vast expanse of flowing darkness.
“Simply beautiful,” she murmured.
CHAPTER NINE
“And what do you suppose will happen then, Mister Carew?”
Alexis considered for a moment. This odd way of speaking outside the hull in darkspace, heads bent so that their helmets touched, unable to see the other person’s face, and his voice echoing dully in her own helmet. “Given your question, I rather suspect it will do something quite different than I would suppose, sir.”
Caruthers laughed. “Indeed, Mister Carew. Watch carefully, now. This is called throwing the log, and it will tell us our speed and any deviation from our course.”
He bent to the hull and attached the device to a bracket on the hull. He motioned her to step back and then sharply jerked a lever on its side. There was a puff of gas and a small, weighted bag flew out of the tube, trailing a thin wire. She watched it soar straight until it was ten meters from hull, and then it suddenly slowed. Still moving away, but clearly slowing and now quickly dropping back along the ship’s hull.
Alexis furrowed her brow, confused. What she was seeing made no sense — admittedly, she’d never been in space before, but … she’d studied basic physics. We’re in vacuum … there’s no gravity … it … it shouldn’t do that!
She stared at the bag and its trailing wire, eyes wide in fascination. It had stopped moving further away from the ship at, perhaps, twenty meters but was still falling behind as though it had stopped moving entirely and the ship was simply pulling away from it.
Caruthers tapped her leg to get her attention, and she crouched to look at the device where he was pointing. There was a mechanical timer counting down to zero and another counting the amount of wire being pulled out. When the timer reached zero, Caruthers stopped the counter and began turning a crank that reeled in the wire.
Once he’d recovered the log, he gestured for her to follow and they made their way back to the bow and into the sail locker. Alexis pondered what she’d seen while they waited for the locker to pressurize. Nothing she knew about physics allowed for what she’d just seen. An object moving through space should not just slow and stop as the log had done. And if the ship were to travel between star systems, surely it had move further in a minute than the hundred meters or so of line that had run out.
“Seven knots speed, Mister Carew,” Caruthers said when they removed their helmets. “Not spectacular, but neither is it horribly slow.”
“Lieutenant Caruthers, how is that at all possible?” Alexis asked.
“By knowing how much line was pulled out in a particular time,” he explained, “we can determine our speed.”
“I meant the way the … the log behaves, sir. How does it just stop? It shouldn’t do that.”
“Answer that, Mister Carew, and you’ll have done more than anyone since we discovered darkspace. We know how it behaves, can measure it to a certain extent, but the why of it?” He shook his head. “No, we only know that once outside the field effects of the gallenium in Merlin’s hull, things just … stop. Their momentum stills until they come to rest, and that’s the end of it.”
He slid open the hatch to the quarterdeck and led her to the navigation plot.
“Now the log tells us our current speed by how much line was pulled from it. And the angle, if it was pulled to one side of the ship or the other, will tell us if we’re drifting at all from our course. Knowing that and time, we can calculate our position.”
“I truly don’t understand, sir.” Alexis stared at the na
vigation plot for a moment, frowning. Caruthers had entered the information from the log and the plot now showed the latest leg of Merlin’s travels. “This shows us well away from Dalthus, but the last position was still within the system, and it’s been but an hour.”
“Two bells,” Caruthers corrected her. “And we are making good time.”
Bugger the bloody bells, Alexis thought, staring at the plot with her brow furrowed. “But that was our speed before as well,” she said, comparing the two segments on the plot, “and we’ve traveled near twice as far in the same time. And the log only pulled out a hundred meters of line or so. We’re barely moving at all!”
“Space and distance are quite different in darkspace. The further we get from a system, from any large mass in normal-space, then the greater the distance we cover in darkspace.”
“So a meter in darkspace is different than in normal-space?”
“We don’t rightly know if there’s a correlation as simple as that. Simply that it may take hours or days to sail between Lagrange points within a system — Dalthus IV to Dalthus VIII, that big gas-giant beyond your asteroid belt, for instance — while it takes us only a fortnight to sail from Dalthus to Eidera, light-years away. Once away from the system, either the ship moves faster or the distance is somehow shortened — but we don’t know, because the only places we can drop back into normal-space to truly determine our position are within systems. This is why the sailing master, captain, and myself, all calculate the ship’s position independently and independent of the computer. It’s quite important that our estimates be as accurate as possible.”
Alexis stared at the navigation plot with dawning horror.
“Sir … are you suggesting that we truly pilot the ship between star systems by guessing?”
Caruthers smiled at her. “I do assure you, they are our very best guesses.”
* * *
“Very good, Mister Roland,” Gorbett said as the three midshipmen transmitted their navigation estimates from their tablets to the central plot. “Very good indeed. And Mister Easely — improving, at least.” He cleared his throat. “Mister Carew …”
Alexis looked down at the deck as Captain Grantham stepped to the plot and snorted. “Mister Carew appears to have a desire to visit New London,” he said, eyeing the line of her plot that veered almost ninety degrees from the three others and speared its way toward the core systems. “An admirable goal, I’m sure, but not when our destination is Eidera.”
Alexis felt her face grow hot and she bit her lower lip. The navigation exercises were a nightmare for her — she simply couldn’t fathom the fact that there wasn’t a more accurate way to determine the ship’s position than dead-reckoning. And though she understood the calculations involved in determining the ship’s distance from each system and how the distance it traveled at a given speed was related to how near the closest system was … well, understanding and acceptance were very different things.
She’d been trying for the entire week she’d been aboard to be able to make the equations work properly, but had, so far, been unable to do so. Everything else about sailing the ship excited her, though. Even after the extensive reading and lessons she’d been assigned by Lieutenant Caruthers, she’d delved further into Merlin’s vast library on ship handling, staying awake well past when she should have been sleeping.
“Mister Roland!” Grantham said suddenly. “You are captaining a sloop of fourteen guns in pursuit of a similarly sized Chase. You are flying mains and topsails on both the mainmast and the mizzen, running full downwind, when a squall of a size sufficient to encompass both ships forms to starboard. What will you do, sir?”
Roland blanched and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Alexis looked to Philip, but he merely grinned and nodded at Roland.
“The squall is approaching, Mister Roland, it is nearly upon you!”
“I …” he began, but then swallowed and bit his lip, brow furrowed in concentration. “I would …”
“You are dismasted, sir. The main has snapped below the crosstrees and all trails to leeward! Mister Carew! What action do you take — quickly now!”
Alexis blinked, picturing the situation, almost able to see the dark, swirling mass of a darkspace squall engulfing her ship and what was needed – the damage cut away, obviously, but also something to avoid being blown too far off course, and then to somehow gain control again.
“Drop the …” Damn, what’s it’s called, then? But Captain Grantham was already narrowing his eyes, preparing to turn away from her for not answering, and she knew she had to act. “Drop the bottom-thingie that digs in, sir, and cut away the debris. Take in all sail on the mizzen, instanter. How much of the main is left, sir?” she asked, narrowing her eyes trying to remember something she’d read.
“A bare nine meters, Mister Carew,” Grantham said, his lips twitching, “just below the crosstrees as I said.”
“And hoist a royal yard to the stub of the mainmast, sir, and fly a royal to gain some bit of steerageway.”
“You have regained steerageway. Mister Easely,” Grantham called out, turning his attention from Alexis. “What will you do?”
“Shake out a reef or two in the mizzen topsail, sir, now that I’ve some control,” Philip responded confidently. “As much as she’ll take and resume the chase, if she’s in sight. Put the ship on the previous heading, but a bit to port, if she’s not.”
Grantham was silent for a moment. “Very good, gentlemen. Mister Roland, you must be decisive if you wish to command. Mister Carew, I suggest you work more diligently at your navigation.” He cleared his throat. “And it is a keelboard, Mister Carew, not any sort of ‘thingie’, if you please, sir.” Alexis felt her face grow hot, but with it came a bit of pride. Whether she’d named it or not, it must have been the correct thing to do. “Mister Caruthers, I’ll be in my cabin.” He nodded to them and left the quarterdeck.
Alexis let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and turned to Philip. “What was that about?” she asked, eyes wide.
“Preparing you to stand for lieutenant, Mister Carew,” Caruthers answered instead. “Should such a time ever come.”
“Is that what it’s like then?”
“Worse,” Roland moaned. He was still pale and his hands were shaking. “There’re three of them barking at you and you’ve no time to think. And they’re all the time changing it on you. No sooner do you think you’ve got the answer, but they’ve added something to the mix. Fusion plant failures, shoals to leeward … they’re bloody in love with shoals to leeward, I tell you. Never a moment to think!”
“Much like life in the Dark, Mister Roland,” Caruthers said gently.
CHAPTER TEN
“‘Clarity’, my arse,” Alexis snarled in a very unladylike and, quite probably, unofficerlike tone. It seemed as though every object aboard the ship and every task necessary to keep it running had some obscure and nonsensical name she was to learn. The reason for which, when she asked, was given either as the need to keep things clear or “tradition”. That tradition and clarity were oftentimes at odds seemed to be clear only to Alexis and didn’t bother the rest of the crew at all. She was prowling Merlin’s hold, wending her way through the maze of passageways created by the provisions and supplies needed to support the crew through months of space travel. It was a task set her by Lieutenant Caruthers, which was called “learning the ropes”, and the tablet she held had just informed her that the edge of the hatchway she’d just passed was called the “Forward-ten-port, hatch coaming”.
She accessed the ship’s inventory to see what was stored here and found that it was mostly tons of raw thermoplastics for the ship’s fabricators. At least she appeared to be out of the food stores and into something different. She’d grown tired of reading the list of ton after ton of frozen and freeze-dried food, as well as thousands of liters of nutrient solution for the ship’s hydroponics and cultured-meat vats — not to mention the alcohol stores. Nineteen tons of beer, o
ver two thousand liters of wine, and five tons of rum — yet drunkenness aboard ship was considered a serious offense. When she’d asked about this, Philip had told her it was due to both tradition and necessity (she’d noted, wryly, that clarity wasn’t in it). Both a tradition dating back centuries to the founding of the kingdom and a necessity to give the men some way to either avoid the ship’s water, recycled over and over again throughout a voyage, or alter its taste and their perception of it.
After passing several large tanks storing the thermoplastic, Alexis decided to find out the name of one of the odd ridges that crossed the floor — deck, she reminded herself — every meter or so. She pointed the back of the tablet at one of them and pressed the query icon.
“‘Forward-twelve-port, first futtock’?” She glared at the tablet in disbelief. “Now you’re just making things up!”
From ahead of her, she heard a flurry of sound and footsteps and, as she rounded the next corner, found a man sprawled across the corridor.
Alexis hurried forward to see if he was injured, the spacer staggered to his feet, murmuring, “Where’d me mates go to?”
Alexis recognized him as the one who’d made a comment when she’d tried to volunteer to Lieutenant Caruthers back on her grandfather’s farm. Alan, she remembered. And drunk, from the look of him.
“Here now,” Alan said, catching sight of her, his head swaying back and forth. “Yer the girl.”
Quite drunk. “You’d best catch up with your mates, Alan,” she advised.
Alan smiled and took a staggering step toward her. “They’s left. But you might be a bit more interesting,” he slurred, then grinned widely. “A little bit.” He held a hand up at about her height, palm flat to the deck. “Little bit … d’yer get it?”
Alexis took a step back. She’d dealt with drunken men before in her grandfather’s camps and something in Alan’s look made her wary. “I get that you’re quite drunk, Alan,” she said, keeping her voice calm as she could and hoping the man would take the out she was offering. “But if you’re off after your mates now, I’ll take no notice of it.”
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