by Darrell Bain
He didn't answer right away. He saw Chief Dugan eyeing him as if he had been the last of the squad and two hours late. Glancing around, he let out a sigh of relief as the last two squad members slid into their seats, drawing a baleful glare from the Chief. He knew they would hear about it later and was glad he wasn't on her list this time. Dugan might be small and prettily blond and look more like a serious-minded college co-ed than the leader of an explorer squad, but she could tie any one of them in knots if provoked—even Tiny Smith, who was almost twice her size.
"Snap in, people,” Casey ordered. “We'll launch in a minute."
Not even a briefing! Jeremy thought. He opened his mouth to ask why, but Siegfrer beat him to it.
"Where to, Chief?"
"Home, if we're good and lucky and the Devil stays in hell for a while. Shut up and get ready."
Jeremy snapped the harness end into its slot and felt the tractor field close around him. Set, he stared past Siegfrer out the tiny port window. There was nothing to see, of course, not yet, but he liked launchings in deep space where he could watch the stars in their brilliance swirl to the movement of the boat.
"What did she mean by that?” Siegfrer whispered after she shifted into position and slotted the harness straps together, letting the tractor grab her. The field clamped bodies but left enough movement to breathe and talk if one didn't move suddenly. It left one hand free for removing the field in case the control circuit was broken.
"Damned if I know,” Jeremy answered while trying to shrug. Naturally, it didn't work, and naturally, he'd forgotten it wouldn't, as almost everyone did. If a person sat still, the tractor field wasn't even noticeable.
"Well, I hope we're not going to try talking to those ... those ... fucking Monkeyclaws again."
He chuckled. “As good a name for them as anything. I doubt that we're going to try the protocols again—not after what happened to the scouts and Shannon.” The recording had been played for all of the ship's crew, not just the explorers. Nightmares had resulted from the images of the second scout, and he had no doubt that there would be more from the destruction of the other longboat. It wasn't that the aliens were so big or so scary. It was their unrelenting, implacable craving to kill any human within range that made them so offensive. They hadn't even seemed to mind how many casualties they suffered while overcoming the crew of Shannon until it exploded in a billowing gust of flame and debris, instigated by the commander scuttling the boat. He grimaced at the memory, wondering if he would have had the courage to set off a charge in the power plant and blow the boat to smithereens, along with all the crew.
"Then what did she mean? Where are we going, if not back there?"
A sudden metallic whine partially overrode their conversation.
"I don't know, but get ready."
Siegfrer shut up and waited for the launch.
* * * *
"Roll clockwise a little more. More, more ... hold it!” Beauchamp ordered the assistant astrogator, and then punched into the longboat com. “Hurricane Jack, launch, thirty seconds. Mark, 29 ... 28 ... 27 ... 3, 2, 1, luck, launch!"
Sam Johnston shuddered the least little bit as the longboat slid off the rails and out of the boat bay into space. Now if they'll wait for just a while longer, Hurricane will have a chance, Beauchamp thought. Not much of one, and God knows they'll need a bucketful of spaceman's luck, but I've done all that was possible for them. It's up to Commander Brackett now. If anyone can chivvy a longboat a thousand light years to home, he can. She wondered if subconsciously she had picked Shannon for the last attempt at rapprochement with the aliens in order to save the best commander for this mission. Not that it mattered now, she saw.
"Vampires! Vampires!"
Roxley was on it immediately, fingers dancing. The numbers came up, and he launched at the same instant as the captain gave the order, but this time there was a difference. The enemy missiles took out their spread of anti-missiles the same as before, but destroying them apparently slowed their own speed to little more than that of the ship. For some reason they failed to release energy pulses as they had before.
Thank God for little favors, Beauchamp thought, then said, “Again, Roxy. No, belay that. Try the lasers. Com, continue the download to the longboat so long as we're blocking the Monkeyclaws. We may as well give Hurricane all the data we can."
Roxley waited patiently until he had a good lock with the laser cannon. He raised his brow, and Beauchamp nodded.
"Fire cannon one and two! Alternate until you kill those bastards or burn out the cannons. God damned illegitimate spawn of river slugs!"
Two invisible beams of energy poured from Sam Johnston, one after the other. The missiles they targeted disappeared in blips of expanding red blotches in the holoscreen that quickly faded away.
"Now get the ship!” Beauchamp ordered. Maybe there was a chance after all!
The plasma-hot lances of coherent light impacted the alien ship in bursts of violet flameless energy hotter than the nearby sun. The ship staggered and slowed but came on with little visible damage.
"We're shaking them a little, but otherwise..."
"Cease fire, Roxy. We need the power for our run."
He flipped off the firing toggle.
Run we will, Beauchamp thought, and if the alien ship comes closer, maybe the missiles and cannons will be more effective. She glanced at the holoscreen. Hurricane Jack, still shielded by their presence, was just disappearing behind the big Jovian-type planet. Good. Mission accomplished.
As if that were a signal, the enemy ship chasing them launched a veritable swarm of missiles.
Beauchamp smiled thinly. “I guess they're not going to board, after all. Purge the computers! All missile tubes, all cannons fire at will!"
* * * *
Jeremy could see the stars now, and along with their brilliant pinpricks against the blackness of space, he saw the edge of the big Jovian planet come into view. He gazed avidly at the bands of clouds—methane and hydrocarbons and carbon dioxide and a hell's brew of other gases—before it began to dwindle in size under the longboat's thrust. Sunlight reflected from the atmosphere was bright, but it was not bright enough to block out the brilliant flash of colored fire that erupted from just behind the rim of the planet at the last known position of Sam Johnston.
"Uh oh,” he said. “I think we just fell into a pile of shit."
A few moments later, the tingly, creepy-crawly sensation of transiting from one gravity well to another raced through his body like a jolt of electricity or a heavy shot of stimjuice. The feeling vanished almost as quickly as it had come. He could no longer see the planet they had been near, but if it were visible he knew it would be little more than a pinprick now. But why? Why transit away from the mother ship during an attack on it?
He began to voice the question to Siegfrer but let it die unsaid. In his heart he knew. That flash had been the death knell of Sam Johnston and their longboat launching had been its last effective act. They were alone now—as alone as any humans in history had been. Alone in a universe that was indifferent to their plight, neither hostile nor benign, but which held many different ways to kill if one were not careful, lucky and well trained. And even then it could kill, and probably would. He had no real idea of how many times they would have to land and renew supplies in order to get back to Earth, but it would be a lot, and every time they would run the risk of casualties from unknown dangers. A long period of many, many landings would probably be enough to kill the seventy-three persons of the longboat crew twice over.
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Chapter Three
"I think we made it without being scanned,” Lisa Trammell, XO of Hurricane Jack, said to its Commander. Unlike the much larger exploration ships, the longboat had a flat screen rather than a holotank, even though it appeared to be three-dimensional. She pointed to the icon for the gas giant from which they had just transited. It seemed to be located near the primary sun, but the icon had five tiny
slash marks beside it to denote that the apparent distance was a multiple of five.
"Then let's get on a vector to get the hell out of here before we are scanned, or whatever those bastards do in place of it,” Joseph Whistler, astrogator of the Hurricane, suggested in a shaky voice. “I've got one ready.” He looked to the longboat Commander, Marlin Brackett. He had studiously avoided noting the presence of the Sam Johnston astrogator, Joyce Chambers, even when it was obviously too late for her to return to the ship.
Just make sure it's not toward Earth Joyce wanted to say. “I agree,” she said. She knew that disagreeing with Joe Whistler when she wasn't in the line of command, and in his own bailiwick, would be the start of a strained relationship between her and the other astrogator, but there was no help for it ... just not now. Captain Beauchamp's last words still echoed in her mind. Get them back home! She intended to try, although she felt out of place in her uniform, when all the others were dressed in their powered camouflage uniforms.
"Thank you, but we won't get out of here at all if we bounce around very long,” Whistler replied shortly. “We need to transit now!"
Commander Brackett placed a hand on Whistler's shoulder, calming him as best he could. “I think so too, Joe, but I believe we have time to do it right and double check your figures. We can loop around to wind up a bit further along and get a bit above the ecliptic, too. Keep a vector we can get into quickly though.” He caught both of them with his eyes. “Joe, get us lined up, check it good, then keep a running prep of vectors for a quick transit if need be. Joyce, I want you to watch the screen closely. If a ship of any kind, Monkeyclaw or not, paints us, we'll transit out of here by the quickest route, regardless of direction. In the meantime, let's see what they do with the debris."
"Yes, sir. We'll be ready for transit in two hours.” Whistler knew when to shut up and take orders, even if he didn't agree with the Commander. He punched in figures, got a reading, and plugged those numbers into the computer segment that controlled thrust. Their bearing began edging very slightly counter-clockwise, following the line of space curvature from the primary's gravity well that was just right for setting up an emergency vector and a thrust toward the nearest acceptable star for quickest transit. He pulled up another screen that gave a rendition of the nearest stars—the one where they were at present and that of the nearby cosmos. It changed slowly with their position.
"That's good, Joe. Thank you, Joyce. XO, please take Mr. Shinzyki with you to the explorer bay and explain what's going on to the troops. Gather any of the crew that hasn't been tied into the control room and let them in on it, too. Both of you try to get a gestalt of their reactions and report back."
"On our way, Skipper,” Lisa Trammell said and departed, moving at a normal pace in the power-induced gravity in the boat. She was followed closely by the short, brawny Chief of Boat (COB) Rufus Shinzyki, who was a warrant officer. They were almost exactly the same height, but their appearance and personalities couldn't have been more different. Lisa Trammell had bright red hair worn long enough to reach below her shoulders when unfettered, a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks that made her appear much younger than she was. She had a figure women twenty years her junior envied. COB Shinzyki, on the other hand, was almost as broad as he was tall. His face was craggy enough to compete with a granite mountain, and there wasn't an ounce of fat on his body. Where Trammell's voice was a pleasant tenor, Shinzyki's resembled a bass drum that could talk. For all that, they got along fine and worked well together.
"How about I give them the bad news, then let you see how well you can decorate it with pretty ornaments?” Lisa said as they exited the control room and stopped momentarily in the abbreviated lounge and officer's mess. When most of the boat and explorer officers were present it was very crowded.
"Hell, XO, there isn't much I can say to make our situation easier, other than we managed to get away from those PX yahoos."
"PX?"
"Psychopathic Xenophobes."
"Oh. Can't argue with you there, Chief. But yeah, that's a good start. And you can tell them we're going home."
The chief tried to hold it in, but a stifled laugh got past his restraint.
"Well, it's true, isn't it?” Lisa said virtuously.
"Yeah, right. No problem, I'll just tell ‘em the beer is on me soon as we find a bar to stop at, somewhat more than a thousand light years from here if we could go in a straight line. In a longboat, no less. But I agree. We're heading for home. It'll be a goddamn triple miracle if we get there, though. Lead on, XO."
* * * *
"Attention all crew!"
Jeremy turned away from the view window with a start and focused all his attention on the XO and COB standing near the front of the seating section. Now what?
"I regret to inform you that Sam Johnston has just been lost with all hands,” Lieutenant Commander Lisa Trammel announced in a firm voice, but it was heavy with emotion. “Confirmation came after transit. We can see the signature of a debris field where normally the icon of our ship would have been. Ship astrogator Lieutenant Commander Chambers has joined our crew. She carried Captain Beauchamp's last order to us. It was simple and meant for all of us. She said ‘Get them back home.’ That is what we intend to do. We are returning to Earth. It will be a long and arduous voyage, longer than any longboat was ever intended to make or ever has made. Much longer. Nevertheless, I feel confident that you will join me and the rest of Hurricane's crew in carrying out Captain Beauchamp's last order.” She paused for a moment as her voice choked. Having gathered herself, she continued.
"We will get home. We will warn Earth and our other home worlds of the threat the Monkeyclaws present to our civilization and possibly to the very existence of humanity. In fact, we can do no less and still live up to the oath of the Explorer Corps: To go where none has gone before. Certainly no longboat has ever made such a voyage as we shall, but there is nothing to prevent us from doing it, except the failure of our own courage and integrity.” She nodded while her gaze scanned the length of filled seats, and then stepped back. “COB Shinzyki?"
The burly Senior Warrant Officer took her place. He put his hands on his hips and glared for a moment before the lines in his face softened into an expression the explorers had seldom seen.
"All right, people, I'll answer any questions I can, if you have any."
Jeremy had no desire to ask questions. After hearing a confirmation of his suspicion that the bright flash from behind the Jovian's rim was Sam Johnston being destroyed, he was busy running through his mind the number of times explorer longboats—no, any longboat—had made a hyperspace jump from star to star. He couldn't think of any, other than the test trials of the current model. It left him almost breathless just to think about making not just one jump, but dozens and dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. Sam Johnston was the first of a new class of exploration starships—one able to travel over a hundred light years with a single jump—and it had made many. They were a long way from Earth.
"I don't know how many stops we'll have to make,” Shinzyki said in answer to a question Jeremy hadn't heard while he was busy thinking, “but however many it takes, that's what we'll do. Next?"
"How long will each stop be? Can you tell us that?” another explorer asked.
Jeremy tracked the voice with his eyes. The question came from Jana Waters. She was with the Tiger squad.
"Long enough to fill back up on water and to process whatever organic material we find for food. Then there's maintenance. We'll have to be very careful there. Call it a week or more each time."
"But ... well, how long will it take us to get back to Earth?” the same woman asked. Her voice was insistent. Like most others, she wanted, needed even, a definite figure to plug into her mind. He suspected that there wasn't one—not for a longboat, and not for a journey this far.
Shinzyki shrugged elaborately. “Now that, I can't tell you exactly. Neither can the XO. From what the astrogators say, it will be a long
time, so I hope you brought some spare undies."
Waters slumped in her seat, looking discouraged.
It quickly became apparent that none of the explorer officers and few of the chiefs were asking questions that couldn't be properly answered. It kept him from voicing any of his own. He didn't want to appear stupid. He was glad he had kept silent, as it became apparent that a voyage of this scope in a longboat was all unexplored territory, both literally and figuratively.
Trammel glanced at her thumbnail timepiece and closed the meeting with a secret smile. She'd given the explorer crew a little time to adjust by being present to help confront their worst fears. Now it was time to get on with the real business. She and Shinzyki would have time to get back and be seated before the dizziness of transition hit them.
"Conference call for all officers ten minutes after our next transition to hyper. There will be a briefing for the chiefs immediately afterward.” She allowed Shinzyki to lead the way back toward the bow of the boat.
* * * *
The transit had gone normally and Commander Brackett sat at the head of the table in the main officers’ lounge while thinking that “lounge” was a very generous description for the conference table and chairs, a few more comfortable seats and a head where Hurricane's officers could gather when off duty. It did have five work stations, though. Small ones. And a tiny wet bar.
"I see everyone's here,” he said. “Lieutenant Wong, please tell COB Shinzyki to join us, then close the door."
"Yes, sir."
The Warrant Officer eased his bulk inside, being careful not to step on any toes. He took the last chair at the end of the table and propped his Reader in front of him as the others had.
Brackett nodded to his COB as he entered and granted him a small smile. He and Shinzyki were the two oldest persons aboard. Rufus’ hair was still its original dark brown, but his own lighter brown had streaks of gray. It was more of a hereditary trait than a sign of age, though. He had taken the Everlife treatments, as most spacers did. It was not only a reward for the dangerous duty. It was almost a necessity, given the long years they would spend in space. Everlife gave more than just a long life. It enhanced the immune system, and its nannites kept the repair function of the body at its full potential. The major body systems such as muscles and nerves were programmed to work at top efficiency, and even the mind had its operations reoriented to keep in tune with the new body. Nevertheless, they were still human and still subject to all the foreign world ills and the probability of accidents that a long voyage presaged.
