His initial course was angled away from the baseship. The turning point lay a long way beyond the orbit of the moon. After reaching it, the ship would turn toward the rendezvous point in the Asteroid Belt and increase its speed modestly. The diversion added a lot of distance to the trip. Now that he was here and experiencing the delay, he hoped it was necessary.
Arlynn had told him to practice maneuvering the ship. He got up and made a quick walk-through of the passenger compartment to reassure himself, though in reality he had no way of telling if she was dead or alive, then he returned to his seat. Carefully, and with some trepidation, he placed the ship into its simulator mode. Nothing changed that he could see, so he tentatively twisted the stick under his left hand. He was not sure what to expect, but his jaw dropped when a wedge-shaped piece of Earth swung into view from behind his left shoulder. He twisted the stick again and the rest of the planet swung into view. He found himself looking down on the South Pole. Many thoughts tumbled through his mind simultaneously. There was home. It sure looked nice. There were no Harbok ships scrambling after him. Foremost in his mind, however, was whether he had altered the ship’s trajectory. Had the ship turned, or was the computer simply generating a different display?
He quickly punched buttons to return to the normal mode. The screen blinked, then it sprang back to life with the same view of outer space he’d had earlier, the red course line glowing ahead.
Whew! He breathed a sigh of relief, then got down to business. He placed the display in simulator mode again and experimented with the controls. The first thing he discovered, something that caught him completely by surprise, was that there was no point of reference from which to judge his maneuvers. He could use Earth, the moon, and the sun as references for direction, and he could use the red course line. All of them rotated as he turned, but he had absolutely no way to judge speed or position changes.
Out of frustration, he changed to the tactical mode. The hollow globe sprang into view ahead. He was not at all confident with this mode, and he spent nearly half an hour setting up just a few jumps, but the only result was that he got a headache trying to stay oriented. Disappointed, he sat back in his seat to think. Surely this ship was smart enough to show him his position changes. Why wasn’t he seeing them?
An idea formed. Checking first to make certain he was still in the simulator mode, he turned the ship until it was aimed perpendicular to the course line. The red line was over his right shoulder and Earth was off to the left. He pushed the speed lever all the way forward and just left it there. He sat back and waited. Sure enough, after five minutes, the red course line had drifted slightly behind his right shoulder.
He felt foolish and was glad no one was around to see just how ignorant he was. Distances out here were so tremendous that maneuvering for only a few seconds at any speed could not possibly show immediate results. Even after heading perpendicular to his course at full speed, it had taken a long time to get far enough off course to see a change. There just were no meaningful reference points. If, instead, there was something nearby in the display such as another ship, he believed his small movements would be more dramatic.
He sat back to think, then he began wondering if, in pointing the ship directly off his course, perpendicular to it, had he moved the ship at a right angle to the red line, or was the new course a lesser angle or perhaps even an arc from the original course? In other words, was starting momentum a factor out here? Was he making instantaneous changes like the UFO had made in its battle with Arlynn? Abrupt turns in atmosphere at relatively low speed were one thing, but could the drive cancel out the horrendous momentum he had built up here in space? He did not know, and he had no way of figuring it out with the tools presently at his disposal.
He added the thought to a growing list and filed it away for later consideration, then keyed in the command for tactical mode again. Arlynn claimed that use of this mode would be his primary means of avoiding Harbok lasers if he was attacked. Here was a challenge he could sink his teeth into.
The lines forming a hollow globe sprang into view. He looked at it thoughtfully, considering its function. The red circle in the center was his ship. The blinking ‘X’ on the surface of the sphere was his jump point, a random location selected by the ship. The only other information provided on the screen was the scrolling symbols around the periphery, but they were in Arlynn’s language and just a distraction. The Earth, moon, sun, and stars had disappeared. He suspected that because this was a fighting mode, all information considered extraneous to staying alive had been deleted from the presentation. It could also just mean that nothing else existed within the sphere now except himself. If the Earth and moon had been inside the jump parameters of the sphere, they might have been included. In any case, the display was nice and simple and uncluttered. Harbok ships would stand out clearly. He did not need to worry about missing them by mistake.
He decided to keep his practice simple for the time being. He would call for enemy ships later, after he became comfortable with the basics. There were only three steps to the operation of tactical mode: changing the size of the sphere, changing the point to which he would jump if he chose to override the computer, and executing the jump. It seemed simple enough, but it took time, and he could see why, when under attack, one crewmember was dedicated to just this function. If he had understood Arlynn correctly, the stick under his left hand and the speed lever under his right still functioned in the tactical mode, so he could continue normal maneuvering while setting up jumps. This would take a lot of coordination.
He began a systematic training program, starting with changing the size of the sphere. That was fairly simple. He could just hold down a ‘larger’ or ‘smaller’ key until the sphere reached the desired size, or he could select various sizes more quickly by punching other key combinations. Unfortunately, he still had no references from which to judge how large or small the sphere was. He held the ‘larger’ button down and watched as the center of the sphere moved away from him as it expanded. The sphere always remained completely in view rather than part of it disappearing behind him as it got larger, which meant that the entire scale of presentation must be changing.
He liked it—no one would be able to sneak up behind him. After a short time, the sphere boundary began blinking. It had reached a programmed limit to its size.
He next practiced moving his jump point on the sphere. The process became easier as he got the hang of it. Executing the jump itself was just a matter of pushing a button, after which the whole procedure could be started again. He repeated the steps time and time again until he felt he could do them in his sleep, stopping occasionally to check for Harbok ships that might be after him. Three hours passed in the blink of an eye. He elected to continue for another hour, knowing that that he needed to master one more important step before bringing simulated Harbok ships into the display. Merging both modes, normal and tactical, and moving between them quickly would be essential before he could hope to compete against the computer in mock battle. With no other ships for reference, he found the exercise strictly mechanical, but in the end, he had confidence in his ability to transition smoothly from one mode to another.
Enough was enough. He withdrew from the simulator mode, got up, stretched, then did another walk-through of the ship. Arlynn remained as he had left her. He bent down and kissed her on a cold cheek, though he knew she had utterly no idea he had done so.
He gathered up a sleeping bag from his room and wearily made his way forward to the bridge. Everything seemed normal on the screen, so he curled up on the floor between the storage compartments for a nap. As much as he trusted the ship, he was not yet ready to sleep away from the bridge. He rested easily, knowing he was beyond the area of greatest threat. Had Harbok ships been waiting, they would have shown up by now. A quick return to Earth was out of the question at this point. He was go for the voyage.
Thus, began a cycle that he planned to continue until reaching Arlynn’s baseship: sleep, a s
hort exercise period in the lounge, extensive practice with the simulator, then sleep again.
The ship frightened him to the depths of his being during the next training period. Without warning, a Harbok ship appeared beside him. His shield lit up with a glow, and the screen went dead for about three seconds. He was hit! It was the longest three seconds of his life. He frantically pushed buttons trying to turn off the simulator mode. When he succeeded, normal space was back in its appropriate place, and it was empty.
He sat in disbelief, wondering if something had malfunctioned, but then it dawned on him that the ship had generated the Harbok attack on its own accord. He got up from his seat, shaken and just a little bit mad. When he calmed down, he returned to the simulator mode with a vengeance. The Harbok symbol returned and got him right after his second jump. He kept at it and was destroyed at least a hundred times during the session. Thankfully, he did not have to put more quarters in each time he got killed.
He gradually gained a feel for the scale of maneuvering. The Harbok ship was armed, of course, and he was not, so his only task was to evade it while trying to fool it into going in the wrong direction. If he succeeded in that, he could get enough distance to take a breather. That was his definition of a win.
The ship seemed to sense his experience level and always kept two steps ahead of him. Shifting in and out of the tactical mode, jumping his ship in the blink of an eye to the edge of the sphere, then having to reorient himself, frustrated him almost to the point of giving up. Every time he jumped, he had to find the Harbok ship all over again, which could be anywhere depending on where he had jumped from. He had to quickly evaluate its motion relative to his own, determine what he should do next, then turn the ship in the desired direction, select his new jump point, and execute the jump. By the time he had all that figured out, the Harbok was usually on him.
He took a break, staying in his seat with his eyes closed to review in his mind what he was doing, trying to come up with a better way.
Suddenly, the key to staying oriented crystalized in his mind. He had been analyzing the battle from the perspective of his seat, as if he were watching the maneuvers on a television screen. If, instead, he mentally placed himself in the center of the sphere before jumping, if he placed himself inside the red circle that was his ship, he essentially jumped himself. During the jump, he could turn the ship so that his back was to the direction of the jump. If the jump lasted long enough, he was already facing his opponent when the jump ended. He knew approximately where the Harbok ship would be and was evaluating the new tactical situation as soon as the screen refreshed itself.
He tried it, and his skill rapidly improved. Before long, the computer added a second Harbok fighter, and by the end of the period he was evading three with reasonable success.
He terminated the period and sat back in the seat to enjoy a newfound confidence. He wished Arlynn could see him now. She would throw some new twist at him to be sure, but that was okay. He had come a long way, and she had never asked more of him than that he try.
But where was the training leading to, he wondered? If the Harbok suddenly jumped him out here, he would have a pretty good chance of evading them for a while, but unless help arrived, they would eventually get through his shield. He could not outrun them – they had a slight speed advantage over him. His only real hope was for help to arrive in the form of Arlynn’s people with guns.
He had been in space for a day and a half now. The turn toward Arlynn’s baseship had occurred at the end of the first day, just as she had promised. Earth and the moon were well behind now, although Earth still appeared as large as the moon did from Earth. He never tired of looking at it, but neither was he homesick.
The last training period had really worn him out. His head ached from the mental gymnastics, and he felt drained. He took a couple of aspirin from his pack before stretching out in his sleeping bag to sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
A loud voice rudely awakened Greg, announcing something in a foreign language. Groggy and confused, he felt like he had a hangover, a serious hangover. He wrestled his way out of the sleeping bag and shuffled forward toward the screen. What’s wrong, he wondered? Has something gone wrong with the ship?
The circumference of the screen, where it joined the rest of the ship, pulsed with a red glow, and the loud voice hammered at his head. He stood behind the command chair and noted that the screen looked back on Earth. He had not left it that way last night. He then noted two blinking yellow circles near Earth with vector arrows pointed in his direction. More war games he supposed. The darn ship wouldn’t even let him sleep.
The commotion stopped the moment he touched the seat. The voice simply cut off, and the throbbing red light disappeared as if he had pushed a button. Still standing, he reached out to the armrest and let his fingers dance across the control keys. He hit all the appropriate keys to turn off the simulator mode, but nothing changed.
He stopped the fruitless typing. His hand hovered motionless above the keys as he stared at the screen with narrowed eyes until, with a deep sense of foreboding, he turned his head towards the communications console.
There it was – the blue transmitter light shone brightly. He jerked back around to face the screen, staring at the two yellow circles.
“Harbok!” he said aloud.
His thoughts raced. The list of moves available to him was short but planned. How immediate was the danger? He sat down and changed the screen to show his entire flight from Earth to Arlynn’s baseship. He was almost two days out from Earth, but the first day’s flight had been angled away from the baseship, and he was still traveling at a slow speed to limit his drive signature. Compared to full speed, he was probably crawling. The display showed the two Harbok ships still near Earth, but he could assume they were on a direct, high-speed trajectory to intercept him, and they would be able to cut the corner in the process. Could he outrun them?
He selected the flight planning mode, and to his astonishment, the two Harbok also appeared with faint yellow course lines showing where they would intercept him. Well, Arlynn had said the ship was smart. He carefully programmed a new course to her baseship, instructing the computer to select the fastest speed – least time course, and pressed the ‘enter’ key. The ship thought briefly, then replaced his original course with a new red line.
Greg’s hand hovered over the ‘execute’ key. Touching the key once more would command two things: the ship’s trajectory would change to the new course and speed, but more important he, an Earthman, would have changed the original plan established by Arlynn. He, Greg Hamilton, would be taking the ship off its planned course. He, Greg Hamilton, would now have to navigate a spaceship through space without Arlynn’s help. He, Greg Hamilton, would be responsible for everything that befell them from this point forward.
Until now, everything had been Arlynn’s responsibility—he had just been a passenger playing video games for his own personal edification. Could Greg Hamilton, an Earthman who fundamentally knew nothing about this environment, take such an irrevocable leap? Did he have the right? Did he have the courage?
He lowered his head and closed his eyes, shutting out the screen. His hand still hovered above the ‘execute’ key. What would Arlynn want him to do? Helpless now in her stateroom, she had exacted a promise before turning the ship over to him. In his mind, he replayed the words of his promise.
“Not only will I do my best to get you home, I’ll use every trick at my disposal to avoid the Harbok and to avoid detection by my own people. What I’m saying is that I’m willing to commit myself for the duration of this trip to your goals, even though I don’t fully understand them.”
He opened his eyes and stared at the yellow symbols racing to cut them off. Yes, he would keep his promise. His choices might end up being wrong, and they might get them killed, but they would be his, and they would be his best. His finger touched the ‘execute’ key and pushed.
He immediately sensed a low hum wi
thin the ship. It had accepted his command and was delivering a maximum effort. He had committed the ship, its occupants, the gray bag, and who knew what else to a course of his choosing. He had taken command.
He watched the display carefully for the next half-hour. Things happened slowly, but that made sense. His ship had to change course and speed, the Harbok had to sense that change, they had to come up with a new plan and execute that plan, then his ship had to sense the changes made by the Harbok. Vast distances complicated the issues. The Harbok intercept point remained unchanged for a time, except for the fact that his ship was no longer there but was instead forecast to be farther along on its trajectory. To his dismay, during that half-hour the Harbok gradually changed course until they again intercepted him well short of Arlynn’s baseship.
He briefly toyed with the idea of shutting off the drive and coasting – they might lose him if he didn’t reflect any energy – but he decided they would be smart enough to figure out what he had done and would know how to find him. It wasn’t worth the risk, and he would be putting all his eggs in one basket.
His only hope was for Arlynn’s people to come to his rescue. He had no idea how long a radio message would take to reach her baseship. Was it hours, or was it only minutes? The message had been going out for over half an hour already. If it took, say, half an hour, then at least half an hour for them to prepare a strike force, then another half-hour for the energy from those ships to reach him so the computer would know they were on their way, he would have to wait another hour.
Ship's Log Page 18
