Frontier's End: A Seth Donovan Novel

by Jim C. Wilson

  “Well, I do have my eye on this new cyber-aug for my legs…”

  I laughed out loud.

  “How did we do?” he said, all mirth gone from his eyes as he looked about the hangar deck.

  I sighed. “Not good. Lost nearly ten percent of my crew. We lost power briefly, but we’re back online now. Most of the damage was structural, but the auto-repair systems are mending that. We have other problems, though.”

  “The Vanhoeven?”

  I nodded. “We’re too close.”

  “Can’t we just shift?”

  I shook my head. “After that last jump, we realised how lucky we were. Apparently, our velocity is a big factor in the accuracy of our shift. Gaston admitted that we ran the very real risk of shifting inside the event horizon when we jumped here. He doesn’t like the chances of us shifting again while we’re travelling this fast.”

  He lay back, groaning in pain. I realised the drain on his body this healing process must be taking. Despite his energetic state upon waking, he was lethargic and bleary-eyed within moments.

  “Come on, let’s get you into a proper bed. Leave the hangar for the truly dead,” I waved a stretcher over and watched as the corpsmen lifted him up and carried him away.

  My spirits had buoyed, but the sombre fact that I had lost a large percentage of my crew still weighed heavily upon me. I had work to do.

  I returned to the bridge and let the others know of my grandfather’s condition. The news was met with happiness, especially from Reza’k. She had taken his apparent death hard.

  I urged the others to continue their work, resolute and determined.

  Gaston, Martine, and Gannerson were discussing our predicament.

  “I can’t provide that amount of thrust,” Gannerson said, “The force on our hull could rupture an ejection line, especially those damaged in our previous engagement.”

  “Maybe we don’t have to get the thrust from our engines,” Martine said, “We can dip in closer to the event horizon, pick up velocity and angle away?”

  “I’ve run the numbers,” said the Professor, “We get any closer and we start to experience relativistic effects.”

  “We aren’t already?” I asked.

  “We are, but so far it’s fairly minor. The change will become logarithmically significant soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “At our current distance, approximately twenty hours. Only thing is, we’re slowly moving closer as we orbit since the Chief here won’t give me any more thrust.”

  “It’s not that I won’t,” explained Gannerson, “It’s that I can’t.”

  “How long will we need to reinforce the ship’s structure enough that we can?” I asked.

  “At least a couple of days. Probably closer to three. Eighty hours should be enough.”

  “By then,” said Gaston, frustration clear in his voice, “Every hour we spend here will be a month felt by the rest of the Network.”

  “Did you forget to return some books from the library?” he said.

  “You understand, you lummox, that by then the thrust we can output will be barely enough to maintain our position? We’d need over a week to break free of orbit by then.”

  Gannerson opened his mouth to retort, but I held my hand up to stall him. “Okay. Solutions only. Attack the argument, not the arguer.”

  “Can’t we just shift and try our luck?” asked Martine, “I know you said it was risky, but we can always reposition once we shift back to normal space. That has to be a better alternative than just orbiting Vanhoeven’s.”

  I looked to Gaston, who clearly did not like it. “We only managed to jump here because the singularity is easy to find. If we shift at this velocity, the orthogonal movement could take us thousands of light years away, further than any recognisable stars. We’d be lost with no way home.”

  “What about Horizon Station?” I asked, “Any luck getting a transmission to reach them?”

  Martine shook her head. “They may be able to see us, but being this close to the event horizon is likely garbling any message we can get out. It will certainly be distorting anything they try to send us, even if we could pick it up over all the radiation this monster is generating.”

  “Won’t they see we’re in trouble and try to help us, anyway?” I said.

  The others looked at each other awkwardly.

  “What am I missing?” I asked.

  “Most of the scientists are Votus,” explained Gaston, “They’ll just shrug and say ‘such is life’.”

  “From what I hear about them, they’ll probably take the opportunity to study our eventual demise,” said Gannerson.

  Horizon Station was a small research facility on the outskirts of the accretion disk that surrounds the black hole. The chance to study such phenomenon was a high point in the negotiations between early explorers of the Votus-Eridani Network, hundreds of years ago, and the Votus Collective. It was a pivotal condition that brought the Votus into the fold of the Galactic Protectorate. It was the sole reason the Jump Gate to Vanhoeven was constructed.

  For the Jump Gate to be possible under such tidal forces, the Votus had constructed a wondrous device called the Light Bridge. This artefact interacts with the gravity produced by the black hole, providing a counter to the force produced. The Light Bridge is tethered to Horizon Station, through it, and to the Jump Gate, keeping them all stationary relative to the singularity. It also allowed the Votus scientists access to the event horizon and, some speculate, even beyond.

  Of course, this knowledge was not shared with us ‘younger races’.

  It did provide a measure of hope, however.

  “What do you know of the Light Bridge?” I asked Gaston.

  He rubbed his chin in thought. After a few moments, he started tracing patterns in the air before him, performing calculations on his overlay that only he could see, or understand.

  “We may be able to use it,” he said after a while, “I’ll need to read up on the publically documented research these misers let the rest of us see. Scraps from the table, to be honest. But given some time, I may be able to supplement their papers from the readings I can take, given our proximity to Vanhoevan’s Star. I’ll need access to the ship’s AIs, whatever you can spare.”

  “Take whatever you need,” I said, “So long as we can keep our distance and keep breathing.”

  “I will need some time. It is a shame we did not keep Tac with the Restitution, his assistance would greatly improve our survivability right now.”

  “Let me know the moment you have something,” I said, although I doubted that he heard me, lost deep in his work.

  “Where do you want to prioritise repairs?” asked Gannerson.

  “Get us space worthy, then make sure we can Jump. Worry about the rest as you see fit.”

  He nodded and left the bridge. Martine indicated the state of the bridge, where the crew were still tidying up. “We should have everything up and running in a few hours. Have you had someone look at your head wound, yet?”

  “I’m fine, just a cut. Bleeding made it look worse than it is.”

  I was still covered in blood, having only wiped my face clean with an offered bandage after receiving minor first aid. I figured there were worse people than me that needed the attention more.

  “You should let Glenris take your uniform and get it cleaned. Go change into something fresh.”

  “You’re worried about how I look? Now?”

  “Appearances are everything,” said Reza’k, speaking out for the first time, “Especially now. The crew have taken a beating. They need to see you unaffected by the carnage. It will help morale.”

  I looked around me. Mostly, people were just tidying up, securing loose items that had been tossed about the compartment when we had lost gravity.

  “And get some rest,” chided Martine, “You look like shit.”

  I smiled, “You don’t look so good yourself, First Officer.”

  Martine was about to argue, but Rez
a’k beat her to it. “He’s right. You both need to change and rest. I’ll get the crew stood down and working in shifts. Once that’s done, I’ll check in with Hieron.”

  “All right,” said Martine, “But I’m only getting half a shift of sleep, then I’ll come relieve you.”

  The two women nodded to each other.

  “And…me?” I said, smiling.

  They gave me a funny look. “What?” said Martine, “Did you need a blanket or something?”

  “No…I mean, when do you want me back on duty?”

  “You’re the Commander, sir,” said Reza’k, “You’re always on duty.”

  I opened my mouth, but Martine interrupted me. “Get some sleep, young man.”

  “Hey,” I said as I started to leave, “I’m not that much younger than you.”

  45.

  By now, I should have been used to my strange dreams. But they always seemed to change around pivotal times in my life. When I’d first gotten the NP proto-chip the dreams had been peaceful, becoming nightmares in the wake of my first foray into the Blade of Xerxes. During my ordeal in the Gossamer System, the Eye of Ar’od Dar had haunted me.

  I’d been absent these dreams for months, since returning to Network space. I guess I just thought that I was done with them.

  The dream started like any other – calm, warm seas of data. No matter which direction I swam, there always seemed to be a current pulling me away. I swam and I swam, but the current become stronger and stronger until it was pulling me under.

  I awoke with a gasp as if I had been holding my breath while I slept. The room’s assistant AI queried my alarmed state.

  “Nothing, I’m alright. Just a bad dream.”

  Should I notify your registered medical practitioner of your sleeping troubles?

  “No, thank you. Any messages for me?”

  You have 11 notifications.

  “Any urgent?” I said, climbing out of the bunk and heading for the shower cubicle.

  One – although I believe the priority flag was set erroneously. Lieutenant Haldenstein has filed a priority report with the subject line: Victualing Status.

  “Haldenstein? Er…”

  Head of Supply Department.

  “Oh. Right. Anything from Martine or Gannerson? Or Gaston?”

  Chief Engineer Gannerson has sent three reports – Damage Control Sitrep, Manufactory Status, Structural Repair Sitrep.

  “Load those into my overlay, please.”

  While I showered, I went over the reports. The manufactories had been set to construct the discrete components needed to repair the hardlight batteries, while regular nanites would work to form the chassis and structural repairs. The damage control activities, I was glad to learn, had completed all pressing repairs. The rest of the reports were details and time schedules for when the remaining repairs could finish. The final report described an issue with raw materials – we would need to acquire base metals or ores soon in order to finish the rebuilding. Wouldn’t be a problem once we got back to Collumus.

  “Assistant, send a message to Professor Gaston, please. Ask him for an update.”

  While I dried off, I found that a fresh uniform had been laid out for me on my bunk. It took me a moment to work out, but then I remembered the steward Glenris.

  “Did you alert my steward that I was awake?”

  As instructed, Commander.

  “By who?”

  First Officer Lenser.

  I sighed. No point arguing, I figured. At first, I was annoyed that my privacy had been ignored, but then I remembered I was on a military vessel now. I had duties, and so did Glenris and Martine.

  “Can you also ask my steward in to see…”

  The hatch to my compartment opened, the slender Orlii stepping in with a tray of steaming food.

  “Commander,” he said, bobbing his head as he approached. He placed the tray on my small conference table then started for the hatch once more.

  “Hold on, Glenris,” I said, “A word before you go.”

  He stopped and turned to face me. “Is there a problem, Commander?”

  “No…well…Maybe. I’m not used to having someone wait on me. I’m also a sufferer of post-traumatic stress…I might get jumpy.”

  “Commander?” he said, canting his head to one side.

  “No sneaking around delivering things for me while my back is turned. Just knock and ask. I don’t mind, I just hate surprises.”

  “Apologies, Commander. I was just trying to be unobtrusive.”

  “It’s all right. It just takes some getting used to…” my voice trailed off when I noticed the contents of the food tray, “Bacon and eggs?”

  “I took the liberty of asking Lieutenant Ward about your preferences. She mentioned this was your favourite?”

  “Oh, you have no idea.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please. Cream with one…”

  “One sugar. I’ll just be a moment, Commander.” He stepped over to my coffee machine, the very same model that Maxine had in her cabin, and started to brew the aromatic beverage.

  I sat down and dug into my meal with gusto. I was ravenous. A chime at the hatch was answered by Glenris, before placing a steaming mug next to my tray.

  “Professor Gaston, sir?”

  “Please.”

  The Professor strode in, juggling several tablets that he dumped on the table.

  “Progress?” I said, between mouthfuls.

  “Of a sorts. Do you mind if I steal a strip of bacon? I’ve not eaten all day…”

  “Not if you value your limbs. Glenris?”

  “I’ll have another plate brought up, right away.”

  When the Orlii had left, Gaston gave me an appreciative look. “Rank has it’s privileges…”

  “The Light Bridge?”

  “Right. So… I think we might be able to use it. You understand how the bridge manipulates matter?”

  “No, actually. I’m…”

  “Right. I forgot. An idiot. Nevermind. The bridge allows the Votus to touch the skin of the event horizon, without being affected by time dilation…”

  “How is that even possible?” I said, dropping a piece of egg from the corner of my mouth. Gaston watched it splattered sauce all over the table, licking his lips as he did so.

  “To be honest. I have no idea. Well, that’s not strictly true, I have some very likely suspicions, actually. I just don’t know how they are able to create the required conditions for the change to occur.”

  “How does it help us?”

  “I think I can make the Jump Drive’s bubble interact with the bridge to cancel out our inertia long enough for us to shift safely.”

  “But won’t we still be travelling too fast.”

  He grimaced. “I suspect that the velocity we travel at isn’t important, but the drag we exhibit on spacetime is. Remove that effect and we should also arrest any orthogonal motion as well. Since technically, we also reduce our motion in spacetime as we cross into the Light Bridge’s effect. I think.”

  “You think?”

  He gave me one of his ‘looks’.

  “Right. What’s all this then?” I indicated the plethora of tablets strewn about the table.

  “Calculations, fifth-dimensional diagrammatics, quantum mechanics, a video game…”

  Glenris re-entered, carrying another tray which he placed before the Professor. He dug in without a thought.

  “Anything I need to know about?” I said, scooping up the last of my eggs on some toast while Gaston broke his first yoke, “Thank you, Glenris. That will be all.”

  “I’ll just be tidying up, sir. Don’t mind me.”

  The small Orlii started to straighten the blankets on my bunk and pick up discarded clothing. The Professor belched loudly.

  “Excuse me, Commander. I’ve not eaten in some time.”

  “I understand. Anything else I need to know?”

  “Yes. Some things don’t add up.”

  “Can
you be more specific?”

  “Phase Space…it looks different.”

  “Different how?”

  “World lines are not where they’re supposed to be, some are missing, and others are out of position. At first, I put it down to our warped perception, being so close to Vanhoeven. Then I posited that the AI Tac trained to navigate and depict Phase Space was malfunctioning. I had to sift through the AI’s memory looking for logic loops or counter-extrapolations. Then I revisited my earlier calculations. The more I ran the equations, though, the more I started to see discrepancies that I couldn’t account for.”

  “What does that mean?”

  For the first time, I saw him answer without the usual air of confidence. “I…I’m not sure. Occam’s razor would suggest that my calculations were flawed. I’ve run proofs, though. More than I would admit to my peers in the scientific community. Everything checks out.”

  “So if your maths is right, what does that mean for us?”

  “That we’re not, in fact, at Vanhoeven’s Star. Nor are we in the Votus-Eridani Network.”

  I leant back in my chair, staring at him.

  “We’re almost in the Network,” he said, “But some things are different, somehow.”

  “I’m not sure I follow you.”

  “I won’t know more until we get back into Phase Space and take a look through the scopes.”

  “How are we mapping Phase Space without being in Phase Space?”

  “We’re not. Tac put together an algorithm to predictively show world line placement based on sensor readouts each time we shift. Things may move in three-dimensional space, but to Phase Space they’ve always been there. Not much changes. At least that’s what I thought, anyway.”

  “Can we navigate?”

  “I’m certain we can. I can still account for the presence of the expected stellar masses, such as the Eridani star, the others as well, but we’re missing some of the smaller masses.”

  “Like what?”

  “Some planets.”

  “Planets?”

  He nodded gravely but said no more.

  I pushed my empty plate away, taking a sip of the coffee while I gathered my thoughts. “Have you told anyone else?”

  “No one. Got a write up I was going to send you, but then I remembered you were stupid and thought I’d better tell you in person.”