Alder's World Part One: Mass 17

by Joel Stottlemire

  As the tube lifted them out of the crew module, they were greeted with a sweeping view of the underside of the engineering bay and the science bay built on its own platform far below and isolated from the noisy, sometimes radioactive rest of the ship.

  Alder unconsciously checked the status of the equipment that had occupied his waking life for the last fourteen years. Seven telescopes, four particle detectors, a wave form reader...dozens of instruments all in order and all pointing at something out of sight to his right...Mass 17.

  The tube stopped during the passage through the long, flat engineering deck to pick up crew, then rose on to the main ring.

  The main ring ran for almost three kilometers around the center of the ship. All around, wave guides, aligned to within a few hundredths of a millimeter caught “frames,” naturally occurring ripples in space, and held them out around the insanity crystal for an incalculably small fraction of time, allowing relativity free jumps across space. Outside of the guides, a broad causeway ran the whole length of the ring. It served many roles. It was the ships shopping mall, had several small cafes and even a pair of small stages. Crew could be found here at all hours, jogging the ring, enjoying a bite or maybe even taking in a bit of theater or a fashion show. There was also a small aviary where birds, both edible and pleasant sounding, chittered and whistled.

  Elana tried to make small talk as they wandered the ring, but Alder was distracted. The mass was visible from here, but barely. The lights inside the ship masked the dimly lit object and the glare on the glass occasionally obscured it completely. It caught and held his attention every time he noticed it.

  After half an hour, Elana gave up. “Come on Sam.” She said, pulling him towards a lift.

  “Where to?”

  “You’ve got some grieving to do.”

  The tube hoisted them up into the Environment Dome. Keeping a small city sized crew alive and healthy for any length of time in the depths of space was a major feat not only of agriculture but also of social engineering. The Duster was part of a new class of ships, a class designed to function autonomously for years. It was meant to be a self-sustaining community and every crew member, right up to the Captain had a job in the maze of greenhouses, recycling tanks, and gymnasiums that made up the Environment Dome. Alder did one shift a week in the livestock habitat. It was surreal, working five days in the science bay, with its sterile compartments and whirring machines and then the sixth with pigs and chickens in a yard so large that it occupied two entire floors of the dome. The lights there were full spectrum balls that hung in the ceiling and were capable of delivering a slight sunburn if your skin was unnaturally pasty after hours spent in the lab. The floor above was a working farm with pot bellied pigs, chickens, ducks, small goats, and amazingly large guinea pigs.

  The enforced participation in the maintenance of the biodome was definitely therapeutic. Members of Alder’s own highly intelligent and notoriously antisocial science team had spearheaded the “Save Maggie” campaign during year three. “Maggie” a pigmy hog with unusual white trotters had been determined too cute to eat and so, after a successful and sometime boisterous lobby, was allowed to live out her life as guardian of the pens. When she died in year nine, there was so much remorse that it was decided that her remains should be fed, en mass to the recycling system thus redistributing her resources in such a way that no one would have to look at their plate and ask if they were eating a part of Maggie. By now she’d been recycled and re-eaten a dozen times but some crew members still kept pictures of her. Her successor “Ronald Midbits” was in year four of his reign. When he had first seen the social plan for the ship, it hadn’t made much sense to him, but he couldn’t deny that they really did function as a self contained society.

  Sam and Elana kept going up past the pens, the racquetball courts, and the machinery that ran it all. There, in the last levels before the flower garden that crowned the structure in a glass dome under the stars, the open spaces gave way to a series of private rooms, some of them full of plants, some of them almost empty. Here individuals, couples or groups could get away from the ship and stare out into space through the long windows that ran floor to ceiling. The last levels were high above the ring and, due to the shape of the dome, looked out and up. In the “high space” as it was called, you could not see the ship, only the stars and space. Crew members were encouraged to take small vacations there, spending days in the quiet, going out for strolls in the garden or just resting. You could even order in. Elana picked an unoccupied room on the side facing Mass 17.

  The room was large, dimly lit, and dressed like a Japanese beach house, with paper walls and paper lanterns. It had a bed on a wooden deck by the door and a wooden railing that led out onto a sandy patch by the window. It was Alder’s favorite. Although he had never been to Earth himself, he had had a paternal grandfather from Japan and liked the look and feel of traditional Japanese fixtures. In the dark of the room, Mass 17 was clearly visible, side lit in blue white by the young sun and tinted in shades of orange.

  There were wooden chaise lounges on the sand. Elana asked the computer for some soft music and they reclined. Alder was immediately uncomfortable, big blob in space, dead friends, psychologist at his shoulder. “Well, it didn’t take you long to get me stretched out on the couch.”

  Elana’s face was still round and soft but was beginning, in smile lines and crinkles, to hint that she would someday be a bright, rosy cheeked old woman. “Well, I could have stretched you out on the bed, but you’ve never really been the grief sex type.”

  “Grief sex?”

  “Very good way to make contact with another human. Usually very energetic. Tends to be a lot of crying at the end.”

  Alder looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “This a service you offer to a lot of your clients?”

  “Only the grieving ones.”

  “Well, you’ll be busy this week.”

  “Maria came to see me this morning while you were still sleeping.”

  “Who?”

  “Maria Estavidos. Cab Martin’s girlfriend.”

  “Were they still dating?”

  “Sometimes. She told me that they had agreed to break up when they got back to human space.”

  Alder humphed to himself. “How’s she taking it?”

  “Pretty well. She’d been complaining about what an asshole he was for years. He doesn’t seem like such an asshole to her now that he’s gone. Death does that for a person. She’s been calling the star La Cama de Martin. Martin’s Bed.”

  “The star? Martin died in Mass 17.”

  “Yes, but dealing with the star is more indirect. I’m not sure she’d be able to give mass 17 such a pleasant name at this point.”

  “I wonder what she’s calling me.”

  Sam didn’t see Elana’s smile because he was staring fixedly out the window.

  “I don’t think she’s gotten that far yet. She doesn’t blame you though. Word on the ship is that they would have lived if they’d have listened to you.”

  “Well, not Martin.”

  They lapsed into silence. Mass 17 was like a third person in the conversation. It didn’t feel menacing but its closeness and size made it press in on them as if listening intently.

  “I wonder if we’ll head home now.” Sam mused. “Three deaths is a lot.”

  “Yes, I think we’ll turn around. Pilton is terribly concerned with his legacy. The great explorers who bring their ships home intact are remembered better than those who lose all hands. He wants to sail back into orbit around League Prime with his ship in order and his crew in ranks. It will secure him a place in spacefaring history. He’s trying to hold out for as much glory as he can. I think the deaths of three crew and the loss of the scout will tip the scale.”

  Elana spoke with great surety and Sam didn’t question her. He had never been very good at reading people but Elana was the best. He knew some of the crew were desperate to turn for home but the idea didn’t really stir hi
m much anymore. Maybe because he knew that, at best speed, the Duster was around three years from League Prime and Pilton liked to stop and have a peek at everything they passed. Thinking practically, they were five years from home plus whatever Pilton stopped to poke at.

  “It’s beautiful.” Elana nodded to the mass.

  “Mmm.” Alder agreed then scowled. “It’s too big.”

  “Too big for what?”

  “It had started to collapse as the nanobots bound materials in the cloud. Have we moved closer?”

  “I don’t think so. Sam what’s wrong?” Alder was out of his seat, his face to the glass boring into the mass with his eyes.

  “We were tracking the collapse for hours after we lost contact. How long was I out?”

  “About twenty-four hours. We...”

  “Shit. Computer, science bay seven. I need to talk to whoever is on duty.”

  “Connecting to Doctor Subramanian.”

  “Hi Alder.” Subramanian’s voice came on the line a few seconds later. He was from a place called Pakistan on Earth and had never really lost his accent. “I’m glad you are awake. How is Elana doing?”

  “She’s fine. She’s here with me.”

  “Oh hello Elana. How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine Shiri. How’s...”

  “Look Shiri.” Alder interrupted. “I need to know what’s happening in Mass 17. Is it still collapsing?”

  “No. It’s very interesting. The gravity waves have not come back but something in the processes with the nanobots is causing a lot of turbulence.”

  “Is it heat?”

  “We can’t tell. There’s too much dust for infrared imaging in the core. We do know...”

  “Water. Is the amount of water vapor increasing?”

  “Yes, we have been getting spectrograph signals indicating an increased level of water in the cloud. We don’t know by what process...”

  “It’s on fire. How long ago did the turbulence start?”

  “About sixteen hours ago. Sir, if the core is burning...”

  “Exactly. Stand by. Computer, I need the commander on duty.”

  Elana rose and stood next to Alder, “What’s going on?”

  “Connecting to Lieutenant Fisher.”

  “Hey Alder. You’re up.” Fisher’s voice came from the bridge.

  “In a second.” Alder shot at Elana. “D’Ray, we’ve got a problem.”

  “Elana not letting you get any sleep?”

  “No. I’ve got quite a bit of science that says Mass 17 is about to explode.”

  “Explode?” Fischer was the number two security officer behind Tallen, and only in charge of the bridge when nothing exciting was expected.

  “Yes. We need to move now.”

  “Hey. You know I’d love to be going but your science crew has got about a billion projects going at the moment.”

  “Forget that. We need to go now.”

  There was a pause on the other end. “Look Sam. You got relieved of duty. You can’t really give orders right now.”

  Alder cursed. “Okay. Who’s the duty officer.”

  “Captain Pilton but...”

  “Hold that thought. Computer I need to speak to the captain.”

  “Captain Pilton is not available at this time.”

  “Okay. Priority voice authorization. Alder Samuel C. Respond.”

  “Alder Samuel C. is currently relieved of duty. Authorization denied.”

  “Alder!” Fisher’s voice cut back in. “Cool off man. I’ve got the bridge. I can call an emergency if we need one. Now what the hell is going on?”

  “Sorry D’Ray.” Alder rubbed his face. “The Oxygen level in the mass has been rising since Pakerson first started pinging the cube. Now suddenly there’s water.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Water is made by fusing Hydrogen and Oxygen.” There was no noise on the other end. “They burn at about 2800 C.”

  “So, you’re telling me the inside of a big ball of dust is...on fire?”

  “And the pressure is building. Do you remember the physics experiment where they held the flame up to the balloon full of Hydrogen?”

  “Yea sure.”

  “Well the weight of the mass is the skin of the balloon holding the heat in until it bursts and we’re the spaceship that’s way too close.”

  Elana put her hand on Alder’s forearm.

  “Right.” Alder could hear the gears in Fisher’s brain whirring. “How long?”

  The left side of Elana’s face lit up suddenly orange. A gout of fire sprung from the surface to the left of the ship.

  “It’s destabilizing.” Came Subramanian’s somewhat useless observation.

  Elana’s eyes lit up with fire and horror as the gout of flame pulsed into the dark of space. It looked as if the surface of the mass was being dragged up with it and the fiery maw was spreading at kilometers per second. On the opposite horizon, a sudden glowing halo reported that a second fire had erupted.

  “Soon enough for you?” Alder yelped. But Fisher didn’t answer. He was barking orders at the bridge crew. “Shiri get out of there.” Alder called to the science bay. “Get to cover. Come on. Inside the main pressure hull.” He yelled at Elana who was already moving toward the door.

  “The water recyclers.” Alder gestured as they emerged into the empty hallway. “We need shelter when the shock wave hits.” Lights and sirens flared around them as Fisher declared an emergency.

  “Why don’t we just frame out?” Elana asked as they dashed down the hall.

  “The fusion core is kept off line so it doesn’t interfere with the science kit. Fisher needs five minutes at least.”

  “Has he got that long?”

  They passed a viewing deck where a couple was standing transfixed by the image of hell erupting before them. “Get into the recyclers.” Alder bellowed at them as they dashed by.

  Confused, sleepy, half dressed crew were popping out of the doors.

  “Get inside the pressure hull!” Alder ordered as they passed through a bulkhead.

  The spaces in the center of the dome were steel and pipes, lacking the decoration of the outer rooms. Turning a corner, Alder gave a code to a door which opened into a white and steel room of humming tanks.

  “Get inside!” He ordered Elana then turned back to the people milling in the outer ring. “Come on! Come on! He yelled from the bulkhead. A few bodies scurried past him but most did not seem to understand. The light coming from the viewing deck window had turned white hot. “Just a few seconds. Just a few seconds.” He yelled meaninglessly.

  With the force of a thousand atomic bombs, the shock wave crashed into the Duster, throwing Alder backward into the interior of the ship. There were a thousand sounds like screaming angels; glass shattered, steel whined, sirens shrieked.

  A woman in a white tee shirt and panties slammed into the door frame Alder had just been thrown back from. She grasped it with both hands, and sagged as if winded by the blow.

  Alder struggled to his feet on the rocking deck. He was shouting at the woman but his words were inaudible to himself over the roar. The woman’s long, dark hair rippled suddenly back from her head and her eyelids fluttered. Somewhere behind her, the hull of the ship was breached. As the bow wave passed, a new sound took over, the howling of the atmosphere pouring out.

  Lights flared over the door. The automatic pressure sensors had detected the breach and were about to slam the bulkheads shut.

  Alder grasped a pipe on the wall and reached for the woman. She had seen the light and was struggling against the roaring wind to pull herself inside but the pulse of air was stronger than she was and only a second later her arms were pulled to full extension, her breasts perfectly outlined as the wind pushed her thin shirt into her flesh. Their eyes met for an infinite second. Alder could see a cold, fearless darkness inside her. The bulkhead slammed down, forcing her fingers off their grip and she was gone.

  Alder dropped to the deck as the howlin
g stopped. His ears were singing with pain. Mercifully, the lights failed a few seconds later and he was left to sob in the dark.

  “Alone in the Dark”

  Captain Pilton stood in the middle of the bridge with his hands on his hips and scowled. He’d hated the bridge when he’d first been introduced to it. It looked like some kind of orchestra pit with him in the middle. His five Lieutenant commanders sat in a ring around him, their support staff in a ring outside of that. Who put the captain in the lowest point? He had to look up to see the main screens over his head and the actual ports out into space were three levels above him. Where was the grandeur? How was he supposed to tower over his crew issuing commands?

  After a few years, the genius of the design began to sink in. The back side of every console, from his Lieutenant commanders to the waste reprocessing manager two levels up was a screen rolling data. The truth of space flight was that it was seldom useful to actually look out into space but, being able to see everything your bridge crew was working could save your life.

  “But where is Alder?” He asked gesturing at the empty science bay chair. It and a few of the other science chairs were the only empties in the otherwise busy room.

  “We don’t know.” Tallen answered, tapping at the security officer’s screen. All the screens were lit, which was good. An hour before they had all been dark. “We only have about half our tracking online. I show that Elana had authorized use of a room on level nine of the environment dome about ten minutes before the attack.”

  Pilton shrugged off the word ‘attack’ and glanced at an external view of the environment dome. Like the rest of the ship it appeared mostly intact except for some surface ruptures. There were a few lights running, but none near the top. While Fisher trying to take responsibility for the entire disaster, he deserved a medal. With only seconds before the shock wave hit and no time to bring the framing engine online, Fisher had pushed all the mobius shields to full. The damage they’d taken was from their own shields flexing into the side of the ship under the pressure wave. If they hadn’t been on...well their little space adventure would have come to an end.