by B. V. Larson
“But isn’t the Milky Way brighter than it should be?”
“Definitely. But since this world has no atmosphere, I’m not sure if that means we are closer to the galactic center or not.”
“I think it’s bigger, too,” she said stepping up and cocking her head. “Thicker.”
I nodded slowly. I had to agree with her, and that gave me a chill. If we were close enough to the galaxy center that we could visibly see a difference in the size of it, then we were many light-years from home. Probably thousands of light-years away from Earth. I didn’t mention this to Sandra, however. She was freaked enough as it was.
“We’ll just take every reading and image we can home and let the pros figure it out,” I said with a confidence I didn’t feel.
“How long are we going to hang around?” asked Sandra as a few more minutes slipped by.
“We’ve seen enough,” I said. “Socorro, move all the shielding to the forward wall of the bridge.”
The process of shifting shielding from one part of the ship to another took several long minutes. We left the observatory and strapped ourselves back into our seats. The forward wall shimmered, bubbled and thickened while we watched. On the way back to the ring we would be flying toward the blue giant, so I wanted all our shielding in front of us, not behind us. This was another reason I’d come out here to this rock. It had allowed us to hide on the dark side of the planet to reconfigure the ship’s mass without getting an extra dose of radiation. It was like stepping into shade to adjust one’s hat and sunglasses. When the ship had finished moving all the mass we had forward to create a shield between us and the blue giant, we headed back toward the ring again. I made a mental note to bring extra shielding on future scouting trips—if there were going to be any.
“Now, cover all the cameras again, and accelerate at three Gs back toward the ring.”
The ship did as I ordered. We both grunted in discomfort as the forces of acceleration pressed us back. I almost gave up my chair to Sandra for her comfort, but I figured if one of us was destined to pass out, it should be her, not the pilot. We were in a combat situation.
“Next time I’ll set you up with a nice chair like mine,” I promised her. “If there is a next time.”
“Why wouldn’t there be?” she asked. “Do you think they’ll catch us and shoot us down?”
“Maybe, but there are lots of other things that could go wrong.”
“Like what?”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” I said.
“Just tell me.”
I sighed. “Okay. I’m worried about time-dilation.”
“What?” she asked.
“It’s a relativistic effect.”
“A whats?”
I took a few deep breaths. Under heavy acceleration, just talking wasn’t easy. “You know that we must be lightyears from Earth, right?”
“Sure.”
“Well, I’ve done little bit of investigation on my computer. The closest type B stars I know of—blue giants—are Regulus and Algol. They are less than a hundred lightyears away from home, but still pretty far.”
“So, you are saying we are at least fifty lightyears from home?”
“More than that,” I said, nodding.
Sandra stared at me with big, brown eyes. Her skin suddenly looked a little green.
“Is this acceleration making you sick?” I asked.
“Just keep talking.”
“Okay,” I said. “You know that we aren’t supposed to be able to travel faster than the speed of light, right?”
“Yeah, but we just did.”
“Maybe.”
She stared at me. “That trip didn’t take fifty years!”
“Not to us, no. But maybe it did in reality. As you get closer to the speed of light, time slows down. It could be that we did spend many years coming out here and—well….”
“When we get back home everyone we know will be old?”
“Well, not exactly. You see, we have to travel back the same distance, for the same amount of time.”
Sandra’s pretty brown eyes focused on nothing as she grasped what I was saying. She looked even greener than before. “A hundred years. More than a hundred years. They’ll all be long dead.”
“Maybe,” I said.
I watched her as the implications sank in. “That’s why we keep running into alien machines instead of life forms, isn’t it? They don’t care about the time differences. They just keep going, more or less immortal.”
“Yes, but don’t freak out yet. It’s just a nagging worry. I don’t think time dilation fits all the facts. You see, the Macros responded to us very quickly by sending out more ships after we defeated the first one. If relativistic effects were in play, they would not have been able to react so quickly. They would not have known for many years that we had won and they needed to send more ships.”
“That’s a pretty thin thread, Kyle. They could have some technology aboard their ships we don’t have. This is their ring. They know how it works. They could have something to counter the effects that we know nothing about.”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Like I said, it’s something to think about. We’ll know soon enough.”
Sandra was quiet for a long time while we flew toward the ring. The contacts slowly grew closer, but they could not catch us. I was increasingly glad I’d loaded this ship with engines and little else.
When we were a few minutes out from the ring, Sandra finally spoke up again. “What are we going to do if it’s been more than a century?”
“We’ll have each other,” I said brightly.
She didn’t look happy. In fact, she looked pissed. “Do you want to know what I’m going to do if we get home and everyone I’ve ever met is dead, Kyle?”
“No.”
-30-
The Socorro had underestimated the speed of the Macro ships—or maybe they’d accelerated harder after realizing we were going to get away. In any case, three of them were almost in weapons range when we got to the ring.
I braced myself as we slid through it and shot out the other side…. But nothing happened. There was no shimmer. No feeling like a California trembler had hit. Most importantly, no gray disk of Venus reappeared on my forward wall.
“Socorro, where are we?” I asked, hoping she hadn’t had time to update the forward screen. It was a faint hope.
“Unknown,” the ship said.
“Is that the same blue giant on the screen that was there a minute ago?”
“Yes.”
“They turned off the frigging ring,” said Sandra through gritted teeth. “I knew it.”
“Socorro, switch shielding to the rear wall. Bring the ship about one hundred eighty degrees, full deceleration on all engines—give us six Gs.”
Sandra gasped and her body lurched. We were unable to speak for a time as the ship turned and shivered. Silvery rivers of metal flowed over the ceiling and the floor, knocking secured furniture around. The ship was transferring mass from one wall of the bridge to another.
“What the hell…?” asked Sandra, unable to complete the sentence.
“Maybe we went through the wrong way,” I said, gasping.
“Put… stabilizers… next frigging… trip,” Sandra managed.
“Agreed,” I grunted back. I looked at her, she was bent almost in half by the sideways G forces. She was having a much harder time of it than I was with her jumpseat. It wasn’t supportive enough for this kind of force.
“Socorro,” I said. “Build a supportive wall behind Sandra’s jumpseat. Turn it so she is facing the same way I am and form a metal shell pilot’s seat that is a copy of mine.”
The ship did as it was told. In less than a minute, Sandra was sitting on a molded metal copy of my own chair.
“I was going to pass out,” she said.
“Yeah, I know. You would have already if it wasn’t for the nanites in your body, compensating.”
“Why didn’t you think of this sooner?”<
br />
“I thought you looked cute there hanging on the wall.”
She rolled her straining eyes in my direction and gave me a dark look. It was made even stranger by the forces that rippled her face and pulled back her long hair into a wavering stream behind her seat. “You left me there to keep me quiet, didn’t you?”
I smiled. “How’s curved steel for padding?”
“It sucks.”
We had to decelerate very hard indeed to counter the forward motion of our ship. When traveling through space at several hundred thousand miles an hour, you didn’t just turn around on a dime. Even applying twice the thrust we’d used coming from the planet to the ring, it would take us about half an hour to reverse and shoot back through.
“Socorro,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Estimate time back to the ring.”
“At current thrust: fifty-six minutes.”
“Time until the Macro ships are in weapons range?”
“Twenty-four minutes.”
“That’s it then. Reduce thrust to two Gs, Socorro,” I said.
“What the hell are you doing now?” demanded Sandra.
“We can’t escape,” I said. “We have to talk our way out of this. Acting like we are desperately running for it isn’t going to make them more trusting.”
“But what if the lead ships are unarmed and we are just waiting around for the other, armed ships to get to us?”
I shrugged. “Could be. But I doubt the whole business of flying through the ring the opposite way is going to work anyway.”
“You think they turned it off?”
“Probably.”
“If they kill us, we’ve had our last team-shower, Kyle,” she said.
“I’m thinking.”
And I did think. In my experience, the Macros were not sophisticates. They were aggressive when they sensed weakness and cautious when they sensed strength. The best strategy when dealing with them was therefore bold, brash action. Keeping that thought in mind, I soon came up with an angle to pursue.
“Socorro, open a channel to the nearest Macro ship. Use the root binary language scripted for Macro communications.”
“Channel requested… channel accepted.”
Silence. I’d expected some kind of warning or accusation, but nothing came from the Macro ships. Was that good or bad? I suspected it was neither. They were willing to listen, but they still approached doggedly. Would they fire when they got into range? I suspected they planned to.
“Socorro, relay what I say to the Macro ships unless I tell you to cut the channel.”
“Ready.”
“I am Kyle Riggs, Commander of your allied forces from Earth.”
No response. Perhaps, like the Nano ships, they hadn’t yet heard anything that required a response. These machines didn’t have the best diplomatic manners.
“I’m here to inform your Macro Command that our cargo will be ready for pickup on time in the Sol System,” I told them. “Acknowledge receipt of message.”
I heard some binary chirruping. I heaved a sigh. At least they were talking.
“Incoming Message: Transmission received,” said Socorro.
“Macro Command, we detect incoming Macro ships. What are their intentions?”
“Incoming Message: Forcible dismantlement.”
I glanced sidelong at Sandra. I shouldn’t have. She looked terrified and I found the look distracting. I’d forgotten she hadn’t been with me when I’d first dealt with the Macros. They could be—difficult.
“Negative, Macro Command. We are a friendly ship. We are a Macro-allied ship. Do not force us to destroy incoming allied vessels.”
There was a long pause. Possibly, the ships were discussing the matter. We were far enough out that it took several seconds for radio transmissions to be relayed between vessels. I wondered about their command structure.
“Cut transmissions, Socorro, but leave the channel open. Can you tell me which ship is transmitting the incoming messages? Light it up with a circle on the forward wall when transmissions are received.”
“Options set.”
“Now, reopen the transmissions,” I said.
The pause in the conversation went for nearly a minute. Sandra finally couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “They are going to blow us up, Kyle. Stop talking and start running or shooting!”
I put up the palm of my hand toward her, then pointed at the forward wall. One of the ships had a ring around it.
“Incoming Message: You are not permitted to fire on Macro ships.”
“We are only permitted to destroy enemy ships,” I said.
“Incoming Message: You are not permitted to fire on Macro ships.”
“Macro ships that fire on any friendly ship are automatically reclassified as rogues. Rogue ships are enemy ships, and therefore will be fired upon.”
Another pause. This time I didn’t look at Sandra, but I sensed she was having some kind of fit in her seat. She probably wasn’t comfortable with the fact I was threatening them.
“Incoming Message: Your ship has been reclassified as a rogue.”
“Explain your reasoning for this reclassification.”
“Incoming Message: Earth-system vessels are not permitted to leave Earth-system.”
“I have reviewed the terms of our treaty. No such terms have been stipulated, or agreed to.”
“Incoming Message: Agreement modified.”
“The new terms of our agreement are accepted. Now, allow us to exit this system so we can comply with the new agreement.”
“Incoming Message: Exit the system immediately. Session terminated.”
“Socorro, cut transmissions. Close channel.”
A loud expulsion of breath came from Sandra. I wondered how long she had been holding it. “Kyle, you crazy macho—”
“You have to talk to them like that,” I said, cutting her off gently. “They are like predatory beasts. They come at you, planning to eat you, but a brave front may make them uncertain. In this case they turned around.”
“Maybe,” she said eyeing the big screen in front of us.
I followed her gaze. None of the ships had changed course.
“How long until they are in firing range, Socorro?”
“Two Macro ships are in range now,” said the ship.
I nodded. No one was firing. “Macro speed and course?”
“They are decelerating, but the course of each vessel remains unchanged.”
“Will they get to the ring before we do?”
“If deceleration continues at present rate, four of them will reach the ring within one second of our arrival.”
“They mean to escort us back to our system,” said Sandra.
“That’s very thoughtful of them,” I said. I smiled at her.
She shook her head. “That was totally amazing. You’ve regained your co-shower privileges.”
“Is that all?”
“What more do you want?” she asked playfully.
Sandra could turn a scowl into a flirt in ten seconds flat. I loved that about her. “Do you have a twin sister?” I asked.
She looked for something to throw at me, but couldn’t find anything, so she crossed her arms and pouted in her chair for a while. I could tell she wasn’t really upset.
I ordered the Socorro to turn us around again and gently brake the rest of the way to the ring. The Macro ships shadowed us. They meant to meet us and head through together. I sensed they weren’t in the mood for any more funny business. Machines are sticklers for their rules.
I climbed out of my pilot chair with difficulty. I took careful steps under what felt like one G of steady, crosswise force. I used my chair to support myself, and when I’d gone as far as I could that way I sprang from the seat to hang onto a set of handholds I’d placed here and there around the ship. The handholds were rungs in the walls, like cheap towel-racks, but much stronger. I grunted as I worked my way to a spot in the wall and touched it. The metal melted at my touch.
&
nbsp; “Where the heck are you going?” Sandra asked finally, watching my efforts to enter the kitchen area. “Don’t tell me you are hungry now.”
I came back out after a minute or so of struggling against the acceleration to get the fridge open. A G of sideways force would have been even more difficult to deal with if my muscles hadn’t been enhanced. As it was I felt heavy, as if I were in a diving suit at the bottom of the ocean.
I came back to the bridge and jumped back to my command chair. I handed Sandra a can of beer then popped mine open. It bubbled weakly. At lot of the stuff in the fridge had been bashed around, but cans always seemed to hold up well under G-forces.
“A celebration,” I said.
“What are we celebrating?”
“Life—while we’re still breathing.”
“I’ll drink to that,” she said, and she tipped her can back. Streams of beer flowed over her cheeks and wet her hair. She patted at the mess and complained. Drinking when G-forces are pushing you back in your chair was an art form she hadn’t yet mastered.
“It’s warm,” she said after a quiet minute. We were close to the ring now.
“Yeah. I think it’s the radiation from the blue giant. The kitchen isn’t shielded.”
“Is it okay to drink this stuff?”
I finished my beer, then tilted my head to one side and crushed my can. I kept crushing it down until it was about the size of a sugar cube. Can-crushing had become a habit of mine.
“Don’t worry about the radiation,” I said. “We’ll have the nanites do a rework on us at the cellular level when we get home.”
“Will that hurt?”
“Hell yeah.”
Then we flew into the ring, and everything changed.
-31-
I hadn’t slowed the ship down enough to safely reenter Venus’ atmosphere. We’d been decelerating, but there was no speedometer on my Nano ship, and using imprecise verbal commands such as take us in slowly proved too vague in this instance. The ship had no scripts or experience to safety-check my decisions when going through a ring. Things went badly.
