by David Tatum
Cheers answered the man, and so did another round of singing, although this time Chris didn’t join in. Rachel shook her head as she quickly dragged him from the engine room and headed toward the docking section.
“What is that song, and just how the hell do you know it?” Rachel asked. “It certainly doesn’t sound like it was written any time in the last few hundred years, that’s for sure.”
“It wasn’t,” Chris grinned. “It’s part of a piece written by Sir Henry Newbolt and set to music by Charles Villiers Stanford in 1904 called ‘Songs of the Sea.’ My late father sang it a few times with the Epsilon Eridani Symphony Chorus a couple years before he died, and I’ve memorized every one of his performances. He often dragged me, my mother, my two uncles, and all of my siblings together so he could have ‘dress rehearsals’ in addition to the Chorus’ regular practices.”
Rachel winced. That would be a bittersweet memory for her, to say the least, but Chris didn’t seem affected by it. “When did he die? It says in your service record that you’re an orphan, but—”
Chris stiffened. “With the exception of my older sister – who I have never gotten along with – my entire family was killed in the Azumah Station Incident.”
Rachel shuddered. The Azumah Station had been the intended replacement for the Roman Brown Expedition Station – the oldest colony station still in service. Epsilon Eridani’s two colonizable planets had been a part of humanity’s earliest efforts to colonize the stars, and the colonial waystation had been maintained as a habitat for hundreds of years since the colonies grew independent of it. The Roman Brown Expedition station was still quite functional even in its old age, but despite the fact it would mean uprooting almost a million inhabitants the Epsilon Eridani local government decided to scrap it for a newer, more state of the art facility – the proposed Azumah Station. Resettlement had begun, and almost half of the Roman Brown Expedition’s population was on the Azumah when the accident happened.
Azumah Station had included a number of unique innovations, some of which had never been fully tested. Among them was a newly designed artificial gravity system that did not rely on rotating the station. While spacecraft had been using smaller artificial gravity fields for centuries through various scientific innovations that were still way over Rachel’s head, ‘rotational gravity’ (really the application of centripetal or centrifugal forces, depending on your perspective, by rotating habitable containers in one of several configurations) had been the only way to provide large artificial habitats such as space stations anything even close to a simulated gravity. These systems worked, but they required people to live on the “edge” of the stations for full gravity – there was a lot of wasted space in the middle of these stations, which some engineer somewhere found unacceptable.
The Roman Brown Expedition had relied on rotational (or centripetal) gravity for centuries, and the people living on it were quite satisfied with the set-up. This new, station-sized artificial gravity design (whose marketing people sold it with the phrase “No gaps in your gravity!”), seemed unnecessary. At least as far as colony stations were concerned, the artificial gravity system was – as Chris had often described such technology – a system which was newer, but not necessarily better.
In the case of Azumah Station, it was also quite hazardous. The new system had been tested and applied in small scale, such as with spacecraft (many of which already had reliable artificial gravity systems, though those were impractical to expand to something the size of a space station), and even the older systems had never been tried on something as large as a colony station (costs were far too prohibitive). The result was that all the previous tests failed to account for one particular burden to the system – the natural gravity of something massive enough to house dozens of the largest spacecraft to ever have had an artificial gravity system installed.
The defect was not immediately apparent, as the construction crews spent over a year after the station’s completion before finalizing the installation. Most families, however, were splitting their time between their Roman Brown Expedition station suites and what were supposed to be their new homes aboard Azumah Station. Many employers had already moved their facilities on board the new station, so almost half of the population of the population of Roman Brown Expedition had moved across or at least were regularly commuting to the station when the artificial gravity generators came on line.
In a huge ceremony televised all across the Epsilon Eridani system – including on Roman Brown Expedition – the generators were activated for the first time after being completed on time and, shockingly, on budget. Most of the remaining citizens of Roman Brown Expedition were watching the event, as it was to be a landmark of the plan which would culminate in their all moving to new homes. It was supposed to be the ceremonial conclusion to a prolonged and, many felt, unnecessary ordeal. The Roman Brown Expedition was, by decree, going to be decommissioned one year after the Azumah’s gravity system went on-line, as long as it proved satisfactory.
What the people who were watching saw, however, met no definition of the word ‘satisfactory.’ The antigravity generators came on, and the effect of the new artificial gravity on a facility large enough to create a small moon-like gravity field of its own was seen – namely, that as the gravity of the object the device was operating on increased, so did the effect of the anti-gravity generator... exponentially.
People watched in horror as their spouses, parents, children, friends, and neighbors were all turned into a gelatinous mass. Things got worse as the artificial gravity generator survived the initial catastrophe. Azumah imploded, and as it did it got denser and the gravity field intensified even further. The Roman Brown Expedition station was also damaged in the incident when the Azumah Station turned – for a few brief but devastating seconds – into an artificial black hole, yanking Roman Brown Expedition out of orbit. Only the fact that the artificial gravity generators finally died when their power systems failed saved the entire Epsilon Eridani system from destruction.
Nearly half a million people aboard Azumah station had died in a matter of seconds. Roman Brown Expedition suffered nearly a quarter of a million casualties itself, and the station was rendered unsafe for continued habitation... and evacuation of the survivors was initially believed to be impossible. The more ‘primitive’ form of artificial gravity that the Roman Brown Expedition had been using for hundreds of years – rotating the station to produce centripetal force – had been disrupted as the temporary black hole Azumah became yanked it out of its traditional orbit. Many of those wounded by the initial incident died slowly without any medical help available, and many survivors started rioting and looting causing even more deaths.
Compounding the problem was the damage that Azumah had done to the planet it had been orbiting. Tectonic plates had actually been shifted by the strong force of gravity, launching a record number of earthquakes and volcanic eruptions all across the surface. Cities were devastated, floods took out much of the coast, and electronic communication was disabled for weeks.
The other Epsilon Eridani settlements survived largely unscathed, and after a bit of rebuilding the system once again became the second most important set of colonies (both politically and economically) in all of the Earth Alliance. The death toll was enormous, however, and the displacement of over a million additional people left scars that were still being felt today.
Not all of the tales were tragic, however – some were of heroism. A group of high school students aboard the Roman Brown Expedition managed to access an abandoned station maintenance corridor from their school’s campus (built on top of what had been, prior to the establishment of the system’s planetary settlements, an old fabrication plant) and stabilize the station’s rotation and orbit, allowing rescue operations to begin. They had also managed to establish rudimentary communications, but none of them knew how to properly direct a rescue operation, and their misdirection nearly cost the rescuers several ships before someone more qualified was
able to take over. No-one blamed the teenagers for that, however. Many people wanted to decorate them as heroes, but no-one had ever divulged the names of those young men and women to the press.
“My God,” Rachel finally said. She was starting to put a few puzzle pieces together regarding her classmate and friend.
Chris ignored her and quietly stepped to a comm panel on the corridor wall, pressing a button to activate the microphone. “Engineering Team Chihuahua Two, report to the shuttle in docking bay... Rache?”
“Docking bay four,” she said absently, still working through her deductions. “Wolf should have her prepped for launch by the time we’ve returned.”
Chris nodded, then strode down the corridor. It took her a moment to figure out he was heading on down without her, but she caught up with him almost half-way to the shuttle. She tried to think of something to say, but she couldn’t. She had no idea how to.
Surprisingly, she didn’t have to. “My nightmares didn’t start until after... Azumah,” Chris noted, breaking the silence between them. “I’d had a few before then, of course; everyone does. Nothing really serious, though – just silly stuff, like those dreams of showing up in class naked and things like that.”
“Chris, you don’t have to—”
“The nightmares I had during the Azumah incident were my first encounter with the nocebo effect. At first, I thought I was just finding injuries I missed during the initial incident, but that idea didn’t make any sense for long. When I realized what was happening to me, I became as afraid of sleep as many others in the station were of the doom which seemed to be upon us. So, to distract myself, I started trying to figure out how we could save myself and the rest of the population on Roman Brown. We were trapped in the classroom section of the station, and several of my classmates found out what I was doing and joined in.
“You probably know that it was my tactical knowledge for a war-game scenario which got me into this accelerated program at the Academy and gave me my Lieutenant’s bars. What was not made was that I got my engineering scholarship to the Academy for having fixed the orbit of the Roman Brown Expedition station.”
Rachel gasped. This was too much. Chris was the mysterious, un-named student who led the team that saved the Roman Brown Expedition’s people.
“But why—”
“The nightmares actually went away when I got the station stabilized. They came back when I screwed up traffic control for those rescue flights, and damn near got both the people of Roman Brown Expedition and all the rescue personnel killed. I didn’t know my limits, and a lot of good people died because of it.” He sighed. “When I say that I’d rather not study tactics as a career path in the Academy, I have my reasons.”
Rachel winced. “Look, Chris... I can understand that, but you were only, what, sixteen when that happened? That was several years ago, and you’re an adult now. You can’t throw away a great talent – and your talent for tactical planning is great – just because you weren’t perfect at it when you were in high school!”
Chris shook his head. “I—”
“Stop!” Rachel said. “If you’re going to say one word about your nightmares, you can forget it right there. The only real cure for your nightmares will be to confront them. So then maybe, just maybe, you will be able to sleep without pain again.” She reached out and softly stroked his forearm. “I think we both would be glad if that were the case.”
“I already agreed to take the study seriously. I’m not sure I’ll keep at it, but nightmares will no longer stop me.” Chris shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have my reasons for being a bit... reluctant.”
Rachel sighed. “Yes, I suppose you do. Chris, I’m sorry. I knew you grew up on Epsilon Eridani, but I never even considered the fact that you would have been involved in that disaster.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t make it a point to mention it to people,” Chris chuckled halfheartedly. “I’d be grateful if you did the same, okay?”
“Sure, Chris. If that’s what you want, I’ll keep quiet about it.”
“Now, come on. I think I’d like to get in on the ‘emergency repairs’ I’m being recalled to complete, and I’d also like to hear all about what happened on the Ishmael.”
——————————
EAS Chihuahua
Upon exiting the shuttle to board the Chihuahua, Rachel and Chris were met at the airlock by Captain Burkhard. He looked a bit frazzled, and the moment he saw them his finger crooked out beckoning them.
“Ah, Ms. Katz, Mr. Desaix. About time. A word, if you please?”
The two looked at each other in surprise. It sounded like they were in trouble with the Captain, but neither of them could think of anything they had done which might have raised his ire.
“Certainly, sir,” Rachel answered for both of them after a moment’s hesitation. They followed Burkhard into a small storage room, where he appeared to be hunched over a hand comp.
“Could you, perhaps, tell me about your recent leave on the colony station?” he asked after a moment.
Chris shrugged, sharing another puzzled glance with Rachel. “Nothing really notable happened. Rache and I went out for coffee. I’ve been tutoring her in engineering basics, and just gave her my ‘final exam,’ so it was kind of a celebration. Actually, it was thanks to that discussion that I figured out the whole rapid-fire particle cannon design.”
Burkhard hummed dismissively. “Yes, yes – not an issue, and you’re not fooling anyone. I don’t care if you students are dating or not, and neither will anyone else – all the rules about fraternization and the like are usually ignored as a matter of course, provided no-one gets married inside the same chain of command and no-one on active duty gets pregnant. Keep that in mind, and you’ll stay out of trouble.”
Rachel blushed. “Yes, sir!”
“There is something a bit more serious to worry about, however. Did you encounter Cadet Lieutenant Joel Farmburg while on the station?” Burkhard asked stiffly.
Chris and Rachel glanced at each other in surprise. “No, sir!” Rachel snapped.
“How about a crewman named Jefferson Flay?”
“I don’t know anyone by that name, sir,” Rachel replied, shaking her head.
Chris nodded in agreement. “I remember that his name was linked to the assault on Mr. Schubert a few weeks back, but that’s all I know of him. Even so, we didn’t encounter any other naval personnel at all. I doubt we could even have met him without realizing it, unless he was someone dressed in civilian clothes, perhaps... could we see a picture, sir?”
Burkhard glanced at a hand comp and sighed. “No, that won’t be necessary. It’s just your word against his.” He paused. “However, I should warn you that the two of them have lodged a complaint against certain members of this crew – the two of you, included – for stalking him. To that end, except on official business, I am restricting all personnel to stay off the colony station during any times he should be aboard.”
“Yes, sir,” the couple chorused.
“Dismissed.” He watched them leave, the concern clearly written on their faces. He looked once more at the complaint report in the hand comp. He hadn’t believed Farmburg’s complaint from the start. There was definitely something suspicious going on, but he had no choice but to treat the complaint as credible until it could be disproven. Burkhard sighed – this whole Farmburg business was getting out of hand. Perhaps he needed to speak to their Academy instructors on the matter and decide on a next move.
Looking at past records relating to Farmburg and the Academy, Burkhard now suspected there was a conspiracy targeting some of the best and the brightest students, and he was at the center of it. His motivation was as yet unclear – it could merely be a case of someone attempting to ‘get ahead’ by removing the competition. If so, Farmburg would be dealt with once the evidence was more conclusive, but Burkhard suspected more sinister possibilities. It was something he resolved to look into, soon. For now, though, there
was little that could be but sit and wait.
CHAPTER XVIII
EAS Chihuahua
The next day, the modifications to the Chihuahua’s particle cannons were completed. It didn’t take too long afterward to prepare the ship for another test run. The crewmembers on shore leave were recalled to the Chihuahua, with just one day left before the Wargame was supposed to start. That meant it was inspection day.
The Naval Corp. of Engineers’ Inspection Committee, which was officially required to certify every ship as spaceworthy before they could be formally commissioned (or re-commissioned, as the case may be), had sent in several teams to check the Academy’s work, and the Chihuahua was able to claim a slot in the first wave of inspections. Burkhard was at the airlock and ready to meet the inspectors, trying his best to hide a smug grin.
“Captain Morrison,” he said, greeting the woman who had put together his crew accompanying them. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here for the inspection. How did you come to attend?”
Professor Anne Morrison shrugged. “I asked. I’d like to see how my favorite students are doing with an old clunker like this.”
“It’s hardly an ‘old clunker,’ now,” Burkhard coughed, trying to hide his laughter. In point of fact, with all the work his crew had done and all the modifications the engineering team had accomplished, the Chihuahua was one of most advanced ships in the Navy, despite its aged origins. He desperately wanted to keep that as a surprise, for now, however.
“All these ships are ‘old clunkers,’” one of the inspectors sighed. “Hodge Coles, Assistant Chief Naval Constructor and the man in charge of all the inspection teams in this fu— ahem, that is, silly affair. How you academy types expect to even compete in this Wargame boggles the mind, considering what I’ve seen today. Only six ancient battleships and three corvettes completed against forty two ships, including fifteen top-of-the-line battleships. Most of the ‘completed’ ships I’ve seen from your side aren’t exactly in tip-top shape, either – I’d say only the Superb and the Ishmael are what I would normally consider battle-ready.”
