“The anti-matter based, pulsed plasma propulsion, is required to ease our transition into the slipstream bubble.”
“You mean the Alcubierre Warp bubble?”
“Yes, MooMoo, you can equate the slipstream bubble to the theoretical Alcubierre Warp bubble. When the pulsed plasma propulsion reaches its maximum velocity, we will push the Jeannette into the slipstream bubble. We need to reach maximum velocity, all the velocity possible, to overcome mass and push the Jeannette to enter the slipstream bubble.”
Glancing at the countdown clock, Captain Moody continued.
“Okay, I get it now. Achieving the slipstream bubble is a two-step process. Maximum velocity is in about one-hour, twelve minutes. What is the second step?”
“Either Janish or I push the Jeannette into dark matter and connect it to the destination. We create the negative-mass tunnel and pull the Jeannette into the tunnel. The ‘slip’ part of slipstream.”
Everyone stared at MooMoo, waiting. Maybe he finally understood.
“The box, the one in engineering, the box designated ‘off-limits’. The one we thought was the slipstream generator, what does it do?”
“Oh, that. Yea. Well. It doesn’t do anything. Yet. I’ll let you know more when we reach our destination. Also, we need to remind everyone about personal safety.
At slightly less than one-hundred percent gravity you need to adjust your workouts and eat lightly. You are expending less energy compared to normal gravity. Stay strapped in, no one needs a concussion from bouncing off a bulkhead in low gravity.”
“Wait, let’s go back.”
“Come on MooMoo, you are like a dog on a bone. It’s doddle mate. Only a being with abilities like Corb and Janish can achieve a slipstream bubble. Lucinda can teleport but is unable to push the ship into the slipstream bubble.
Once we get in the slipstream bubble, the anti-matter propulsion is reduced to five percent and is used for guidance. Guidance and to maintain momentum should we start to slow down.
It’s simple man. You know, it has never been done before. At least not by humans. We’ve been waiting in this aluminium tube a fortnight for today. It’ll be right good craic, no hard lines.”
“Okay Nick, if what you say is true, we have luck on our side, what happens when we enter the slipstream?”
Corb shook his head, stopped leaning against the door frame, and spoke to Janish.
“You figure this out, I am going to the bridge to get ready.”
“No way, I’m going with you. Nick, you explain it again.”
“Bugger off, I’m knackered from hearing it three times. NT, you have a way with fancy pansy words, you educate the Captain.”
“Not me, I don’t know anything about it. Lucinda?”
“Alright fine, I’ll try again. But, we’ll talk on the bridge, I want to see what happens when we enter the slipstream.”
Commander MooMoo was not accustomed to people refusing an assignment or walking out of a meeting without being dismissed. However, he agreed to the “less military posture” and more “team player approach” before Corb would teleport him back to the Jeannette.
An hour later, everyone was crowded into the ship’s bridge. The bridge was organic in design with an orientation transverse to the direction of travel. The accommodation of the inner hull where built to accommodate the rotational aspects of generating pseudo gravity. Viewed from the outside, the bridge would appear upside-down and inside-out. The deck was flat, but the walls and ceiling took on the arch of the inner hull. In the center was the command chair, occupied by MooMoo. Pushing a button, on either arm, popped up small touch consoles and keypads. Basic functions for all the command stations could be accessed from the command chair consoles.
The bridge was the forward twelve meters, of the lower half, of the inner hull. The pneumatic doors were in the center of the vertical walls to the right and left of the command chair. The door to the right, normally considered aft on a ship, entered the central passageway. The doors to the left, or bow, are manually operated and opened into a chamber connected to the forward airlock. Monitors encircled the room, above the consoles. The command chair, and the chairs at the various stations, all pivoted three-hundred and sixty degrees. The bridge of the Jeanette was a theater-in-the-round configuration, with the command chair the center of the stage. The center of the forward bulkhead was a three-meter-wide, floor to ceiling, main monitor. Constructed to follow the contour of the inner hull, the monitor functioned as a digital viewing port. Unless otherwise instructed, the image on the forward monitor was a composite image of space directly ahead of the Jeannette.
Immediately to the right of the main monitor was the navigation console. Continuing to the right, following the room, was the science console. Next, the intelligence officer’s console.
To the left of the main monitor was the pilot’s console. Next the communication’s console, then the first officer’s console. Followed by a catercorner console for the mission specialist.
“Lucinda, is the deflector shield active?”
Captain MooMoo had stopped using titles with everyone, including the on-duty military personnel.
“Yes, Chris.”
Lucinda refused to call Captain Moody, MooMoo.
“Let’s put up two cameras forward and two lateral cameras on the monitors. We want to document the first-time humans travel faster than light.”
Corb corrected MooMoo.
“Every time we teleport we travel faster than light.”
Either side of the main monitor came to life with external images. To the right, one o-clock and a three o-clock views appeared. To the left, eleven o-clock and nine o-clock views. The views are on a plane relative to the outer hull’s horizontal wings and nacelles.
The crew could see the stars and occasional flashes of microscopic debris being incinerated by the deflector shield.
Mesmerized, everyone stood and stared until Ragnar spoke.
“Thirty seconds to maximum velocity. One minute to transition.”
Michelle spoke up.
“Does anyone want to say anything before we do this? Pray maybe?”
When no response was received, Michelle put her hand on Corb’s shoulder and asked the only question.
“Can you do this?”
Corb glanced over his shoulder, trademark smile beaming, and said: “Here, hold my bear.”
Michelle smirked, but only Nick and NT laughed at the dark humor.
Cassandra was the first to notice the change.
“He did it. We are in the slipstream. The cameras are not live. They are a digital representation. They did not change. The digital monitors are showing us the last image they could process.
Corb, Janish, how do we know where we are?”
It was Ragnar who responded to Cassandra’s question.
“We are on a straight line to the Carina Constellation. A travel line calculated to avoid flying through any solar systems. Nothing between here and our destination. But that’s the easy part. The exciting part is not knowing when we will arrive. We don’t know how fast we are traveling. Therefore, we must rely on Corb and Janish to tell us when they will drop us out of the slipstream. When we drop out of the slipstream we can calculate how far and how fast we traveled.”
Humming and nodding, Cassandra asked more questions.
“How do you account for interstellar dust? Also, why did we not know about this prior to launch? We have been planning this for years, why wait to now tell us only Corb and Janish can invoke the slipstream?”
Ragnar answered the first question.
“The Others assured us the deflector shield will take care of almost all, ninety-nine percent, of the interstellar dust. As for the one percent, The Golden B-B, well, what’s life without risk?”
When Ragnar stopped laughing at his own joke, he continued.
“On the plotted path, we used a modified Einstein Ring detector to search for anything large enough to pass through our deflector shield. Kj
æreste, we planned this well.”
Corb took Cassandra’s second question.
“There was no deceit intended. There are two reasons we held back the information. First, we were not sure we would get the funding if the sponsors thought it all hinged on a single person. We made up the story about the box and we got the funding. Second, until Lucinda learned to teleport, I was not sure I could push the Jeannette into the slipstream.
Lucinda didn’t learn to teleport independently. The first time, I pulled her into the plane of negative-mass. Once she felt how it happens, she could replicate the process and teleport independent of Janish and me.
Now you know…
Captain?”
“So… The box. It is a decoy.”
Corb looked to MooMoo, smiled, shrugged, and turned back to his console. MooMoo realized Corb had duped everyone involved with building the Jeanette.
“Steady as she goes. I suggest we immediately begin rotating shifts. Lucinda?”
Before Lucinda could respond, Himari Tanaka spoke.
“Excuse me, I am uncertain about one item. What is a ‘Golden Bee-Bee’?”
Nick jumped in to answer Himari’s question.
“The Golden B-B is a military term for a one-in-a-million occurrence. A B-B is a small, round, air-powered projectile. Commonly used in children’s toy guns. As fast as we are moving, if the deflector shield fails, a tiny piece of space dust could hit a vulnerable part of our spacecraft… Well, that is a one-in-a-million shot and we die in space. It's also a wonderful metaphor.”
Himari stared at Nick for several long seconds, smiled at the dark humor, bowed, and returned her focus to Lucinda.
“One item concerns me. Did Ragnar refer to Cassandra as “darling?”
Everyone’s head snapped to Ragnar and Cassandra. Ragnar refused to look up from his console. Cassandra would not look up, would not push the hair out of her face, she was blushing.
Chapter Ten
It is Still Boring
“Sooner barbarity than boredom.” – Theophile Gautier
“We are traveling at a kazillian miles an hour and we have another month? Maybe six weeks? Fookin’ ‘ell.”
The port cargo hold converted to a workout facility had become a point of congregation for the crew of the Jeannette. With MooMoo, Justin, Joshua, and Brandon on the bridge, everyone else was in the makeshift Dojo. Alternating between Corb’s martial arts type constructs and rotating among the resistance machines was the new norm for the Coterie.
Today’s entertainment was verbal imitation of Mister Nicholas Davies. NT’s “fookin’ ‘ell” set everyone agog. Including Nick.
Even Janish got in on the gaiety.
“Buncha gobshite wankers without the sense God gave a stone.”
Everyone was laughing so hard the workout session came to an end. When everyone had composed, Cassandra stepped up and pondered aloud.
“Even with almost ‘instantaneous’ travel, it requires over one-thousand three-hundred hours, almost eight full weeks, to reach the Carina Constellation[6]. Best guess, we are only halfway to our destination. Which is where, Kjæreste?”
The crew of the Jeannette grew accustomed to Ragnar and Cassandra’s pet name for each other. Ragnar tossed his towel into the hamper before responding.
“Carina Constellation is in the Carina-Sagittarius arm of the Milky Way galaxy. Sol, Earth’s star, is in the Orion arm of the galaxy. More accurately, Sol is in something called the Orion Spur. The Carina Nebula is between sixty-five-hundred and ten-thousand astronomical units, or AU, from Sol. Carina Nebula is about thirty-eight lights years from Sol. On the short end.
We are headed to a spot near a star called Miaplacidus but is more commonly referred to as Beta Carinae. Beta Carinae is about one hundred and eleven light years from Sol.”
“Enough! Thanks. Sorry. How long?”
NT had grown impatient with Ragnar’s detailed answer.
“Sorry. We are going to drop out of the slipstream on the outer edge of the Beta Carinae system. It will require about two weeks to plot a course, orient correctly on the elliptical plane, and begin to accelerate toward the outer rim.”
“Cool, two more weeks. I can live with that.”
“No NT, two weeks after we drop out of the slipstream to reach the outer rim. It will take another four to six weeks, after dropping out of the slipstream, to reach the inner planets. It depends where the inner planets are relative to where we are and …”
“OKAY. OKAY. Another eight weeks?”
“NT, six to eight weeks after we drop out of slipstream.”
“I am not going to like this answer… how long before we drop out of the slipstream?’
Corb started to speak but Janish jumped into the conversation, with a faux Nick Davies accent.
“Buncha gobshite wankers without sense enough to relax and enjoy the company.”
Successfully defusing Nick’s brewing tirade, Janish continued in a normal voice.
“Corb do you feel it?”
“Yes Janish, we are more than halfway. I would estimate about five-eighths of the way to the Beta Carinae system. Which means…”
“Which means another four weeks before we drop out of the slipstream. So, another ten to sixteen weeks, total.”
NT had interrupted, with quick mental math, and annoyance. Forcing everyone to look at NT with concern. Lucinda broke the tension.
“Come on Hon, we need to talk.”
Lucinda grabbed NT’s hand and led him from the makeshift Dojo to their starboard living quarters.
An unexpected result of the twelve-hour shift schedule was to perpetuate the “two teams” onboard the Jeannette. Breaking up the shift schedule forced the Coterie and Military crew to work together. Corb and MooMoo agreed to alter the work schedule from two twelve-hour shifts to three eight-hour shifts. Shift change schedule was classic military: Mids, Days, and Swing. Mids started at midnight, Days at oh-eight-hundred, and Swing shift at seventeen-hundred hours. The new interpersonal dynamics shifted for the better, but the Jeannette is too small for the fourteen crew.
Everyone remained professional, but tempers leaked out at an increasing rate. Not knowing exactly when they would arrive put stress on everyone. The years of planning did not prevent the Jeannette from becoming a crucible where tensions simmered scarcely under the boiling point. The psychological environment on the Jeannette was becoming less favorable, less forgiving, and more toxic.
Corb and Janish maintained alternating twelve-hour shifts to ensure the ship stayed in the slipstream. The duties of keeping the Jeannette in the slipstream were simple. Monitor the flow and feel of the dark energy tunnel. Pushing the Jeannette into the fabric of dark energy was a simple task. Maintaining the slipstream was a routine task of monitoring the endpoint for any deviations in its intensity. Mostly, Corb and Jeannette spent their time reading and contemplating the new human paradigm.
Michelle and NT also alternated twelve-hour shifts to monitor moral and ensure the crew stayed calm and performed their assigned duties. Michelle and Janish became more conversant with the crew. Military types are not opposed to chatting with pretty women. NT remained NT prickly and withdrawn. Eventually, the tensions reached an equilibrium the day NT stopped being acerbic and made an honest attempt at mending fences.
The entire crew attempted to attend, or at least be awake, during the evening meal. One Thursday afternoon, the galley was filled, with only NT missing. Toward the end of the dinner, NT danced into the dining hall. Yes, he danced with razzmatazz and stood behind, and to the side, of Lucinda. NT singing a god-awful tune about swimming with bow-legged women, left everyone too surprised to laugh.
Lucinda rolled her eyes and smiled in mock disgust.
When the song finished, NT stopped his jig, outstretched his hand, and asked with a flourish: “Would you like to interdigitate with me?”
Everyone’s mind immediately went to the gutter except Nick who erupted with laughter. It took Lucinda three se
conds to turn her look of shock to one of pleasure and amusement.
“Of course, I will hold your hand.”
Standing, Lucinda interlocked her hand with NT’s and they strolled off to their quarters.
A couple of days after NT’s vociferous display of repentance, the crew was assembled again in the galley. Corb had called everyone together. Sitting with his back to the storage pantry, Corb could see the entire crew.
“First, this has been harder and more psychologically challenging than we imagined. We did not prepare adequately for the difficulties in being confined for so long. Please accept my sincere apologies for not adequately preparing us for the stress of a prolonged confinement.
I have a couple of things to discuss. First, I will tell you why the Others stopped visiting Earth.
As I learned more about the Others, and how they have been interacting with Earth since before Humans had a written language, I became aware of an actuality.
The Others are not our forefathers. They are not using us as ‘lab rats’ in a grand experiment. Nor, are inter-breeding with Humans. No anal probes, sorry Nick.”
“Ah blarg, I’m chuffed to have missed an opportunity.”
Everyone chuckled before Corb continued.
“None of our ‘common’ thinking about the Others, or any non-human sentient life, is accurate.
The Others stopped visiting Earth, with frequency, when the technology age began. World War I was the trigger. The killing of over thirty million people shocked the Others. World War Two with another fifty-plus million killed. The Others are a culture of pacifists. They will fight to protect themselves, but they will not fight each other.
Then the nukes. Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The Others looked upon the massive destruction of life as their failure to intervene.
The Others have provided technology and knowledge in a progression in keeping pace with normal human evolution. They never envisioned humans would kill each other by the millions with technology.
Too late to intervene and prevent the deaths, the Others took a ‘hands off’ approach.
Time is an Illusion_The Ptolemy Expedition Page 8
