by Darren Beyer
Inland, a canopy of green passed by, and just as Jans could have mistaken the beaches for Earth, so too could this greenery be any tropical forest.
But this wasn’t Earth. The beaches had no seashells, the forests no animals. Eridani was a young planet, and its largest sea life was barely the size of the head of a pin. Nothing larger than bacteria had yet made it to land.
Jans leaned his head against the helo window. Oceans, forests, deserts, mountains, air, countless documentaries, news stories, scientific journals, and even fiction had explored the similarities and differences between Earth and Eridani. Such a pairing of planets was unlikely to occur so close together. Only Jans and his scientists had some notion of how it had happened.
The coast, with its crashing waves and wide beaches, angled westward, as the helo turned inland. Soon the lush forests became sparse, then turned to brown grassland and rolling hills. Jans knew that the hills would eventually give way to majestic snowcapped mountains. Few of Eridani’s mountains had been named; fewer still had felt footsteps on their slopes. Until they appeared on the horizon, the landscape below would remain undistinguished. It lulled Jans into a haze and finally into a fitful sleep.
***
A loud bang, violent shuddering, and the noise of alarms shocked Jans awake. He gripped his armrests. The controls shook as the pilot fought to keep the helo aloft. The guard’s eyes were wide with fear.
“What happened?” Jans yelled to the pilot.
“I don’t know! We’re losing power in two fans. I can’t keep it steady.”
“How far are we from the facility?”
“Too far.” The pilot keyed the mic. “AIC Center, helo four, seven, three, six, Mike.” The pilot paused. “AIC Center, helo four, seven, three, six, Mike.” The pilot’s face grew worried. “AIC Center, helo three, six, Mike is declaring an emergency. We are ninety-seven kilometers on bearing zero-one-nine from facility uniform, two, alpha. We are losing power and unable to maintain altitude.”
“Sir, you better buckle up.” The security guard retrieved his weapon from his holster, checked the magazine, then replaced it and secured it.
Jans reached over his shoulder and pulled down his harness, latching it and cinching it almost to the point of pain. He glanced again at the pilot, who still fought for control of the helo, trying in vain to call AIC traffic control. The shudder ceased, and for a moment Jans thought the helo had fixed itself. Then another bang even louder than the first rocked the aircraft, knocking it into an uncontrolled spin.
The pilot twisted around. “Brace yourselves. We’re going down!”
Jans bent low and put his arms across his face.
Chapter 40
Rho Indi System
Mandi bit her fingernails. Different angles of the operation appeared on multiple holo screens across the bridge.
The main screen still showed the wreck of the Gaussian spinning. Other screens showed point-of-view and external vantage points of Grae and Ivey floating in space among an array of modified breach charges and a maneuvering sled with a portable APU.
“I don’t know about this,” Mandi muttered.
“It’s actually quite brilliant.” Captain Stanton was in his chair, intent upon the operation onscreen.
“How do those things attach?”
“They are designed to gain entry to a disabled enemy ship. Each breach charge has a huge metallic claw. When it hits a ship, a small charge slams the claw shut, puncturing the ship’s skin and digging in. In the original form, the main charge would then fire, breaching the hull to allow entry to a boarding party. Grae’s modification has swapped the charges for grav pods. Quite brilliant indeed.”
“Dauntless, EVA1. We’re in position,” Grae’s voice came through the comm. “Breach charges are set and ready to be fired on command.”
“Roger, EVA1. We have positive link with the charges. You are a go to remove safeties.”
“Copy that, Dauntless. Proceeding with safety disengage.”
Grae’s maneuvering backpack fired small puffs of propellant as he moved deftly to each breach charge and manually removed the safety pin.
“Those packs—even the spacesuits—all seem much smaller than normal,” Mandi said.
“You’re familiar?”
“I’m sort of our office’s tech geek. I was assigned to a story on the Ritz lunar hotel. We did some external work. Our insurance company insisted that we be fully certified for our spacesuits. But everything there was bigger and bulkier.”
“We’ve made improvements.” Captain Stanton was enthusiastic. “The joints of these suits are nano-weave.”
“Smart-fabric?”
“That’s a trade name I’m sure you’ve seen on Earth, but yes. The fabric goes from rigid to flexible on a molecular level, so that we can do away with bulky pressure joints.”
“And the maneuvering pack?”
“We’ve done work on the EMUs as well.” Captain Stanton smiled.
“They’re so agile.”
The packs that Mandi had worked with had been twice this size. In her story, she had compared them to the devices used in the early Space Shuttle years. Those Extra-vehicular Maneuvering Units had been as big as the astronaut operating them through the cumbersome space suit. By comparison, the backpack-sized units that Grae and Ivey wore were almost inconsequential.
“I don’t see any liquid-air tanks—”
“We use solids. Air cells. A cobalt crystal stores oxygen, and an ammonium compound provides nitrogen for the air and hydrogen to power the fuel cell. It’s all very compact. And rechargeable.”
“Dauntless, EVA1. All safeties are disengaged, and we’re clear.” Grae’s voice came through the comm.
“Roger, EVA1. Dauntless has control.”
For a few tense moments nothing happened.
Then Dauntless’ electronic voice activated. “Countdown to initial breach charge. 10—9—8—”
Four small rockets ignited, speeding the breach charge toward the Gaussian. It was perfectly timed and hit the wreck squarely the instant it became perpendicular to the line of flight. A small flash indicated that the clamp had fired and dug into the hull.
“EVA1, Dauntless. We have positive deployment. We estimate ignition of charge two in approximately twelve minutes.”
“Why do we fire four of them?” Mandi looked toward Captain Stanton.
“The ship isn’t rotating solely around one axis. It’s got some rotation around all three axes. We’re firing four charges for best coverage. With only one charge, it would take us days—if not weeks—to get into position enough times to arrest rotation sufficiently.”
It took more than an hour for the wreck of the Gaussian to present the proper facings to the array of breach charges. The remaining three fired and successfully mounted.
Tension ratcheted as Grae and Ivey boarded the cargo sled with the portable APU and its power and control cables. They maneuvered the cargo sled into location opposite the center of rotation and prepared to fire the last breach charge. Instead of firing a grav pod, it was attached to a cable to reel the APU into the wreck of the Gaussian. Like the four charges before it, this charge shot toward the Gaussian and struck close to the rotating center. The grappling charge fired, and the claw slammed shut, crumpling aluminum. It looked to be a successful hit. However, the claw and tangled mess of metal slowly moved away from the ship. It had failed to hit the structure necessary to hold it fast, instead grappling only the thin outer skin.
“Shit!” Grae’s frustrated voice came through the comm. “EVA1, Dauntless. We have negative engagement.”
“Is there another breach charge?” Mandi looked to Captain Stanton.
“Just one, but I’m not inclined to use our last. Grae,” Captain Stanton called out through the comm, “I am open to ideas.”
“Let me get closer. The grappling claw pulled away a nice chunk of skin. There might be something that I could attach a karabiner to.”
“A manual attach?”
>
“That’s the only way. The center of rotation isn’t moving in and out. If I time the approach properly, I can get within arm’s reach.”
“Can we zoom in on the center of rotation?” The camera slowly panned in on a lazily rotating patchwork of metal and plastic. Captain Stanton stared at the feed. “It doesn’t look so ominous up close. Grae, this is your call. If anything doesn’t look right, I want you out.”
Mandi watched intently as the sled and APU reeled in the failed grappling claw. Grae removed the claw and let it float away. Retrieving one of his tethers, he attached it to the small hook on the cable. The sled moved slowly toward the Gaussian, with Grae and Ivey on either side. As they grew close, Mandi finally appreciated the full scale of the wreck. Grae and Ivey were dwarfed. Mandi glanced anxiously at Captain Stanton.
“Dauntless, EVA1. You picking up these radiation readings?”
“We have them, EVA1.” Captain Stanton shifted his attention to a series of readouts. “Still within allowable limits. Don’t stay for a picnic, and you’ll be good.”
“Not planning on it.” Grae chuckled.
Slowly, the cargo sled edged nearer the wreck as Grae and Ivey lined it up with the center of rotation. They stopped at thirty meters. It looked to Mandi as though they were right on top of it. As Ivey reeled out the line, Grae took the karabiner and slowly maneuvered close to the Gaussian. At five meters he stopped, studying the surface.
“Dauntless, EVA1. What’s the rotation along the Z axis again?”
“Z is point three one, and Y point two seven.”
“How long until the failed attach point comes around again?”
“It should come into view in about forty-five seconds.”
Grae looked down, searching for the ripped opening in the skin as it came into view. “Here it comes.” He began a slow move in. He stopped at two meters, his eyes scanning for any protrusion that might catch him or knock him away. The hole came within range, and Grae reached to it with the karabiner. He tried placing the grapple on different exposed points, but none took. “Nothing seems to work.”
“Don’t force it. Pull back, and let’s reassess.”
“Wait. Are you seeing this? It looks like a good candidate.” Grae reached in suddenly under the ship’s crumpled aluminum skin, beyond view of the cameras. An alarm sounded on the bridge, and Mandi snapped her attention to Grae’s data screen. A ‘Suit Breach’ indicator flashed red, and Mandi turned back to Grae’s helmet cam. His hand was still in the hole as drops of blood began floating out, coalescing into perfect little spheres even as it boiled in the vacuum of space.
“Dauntless, EVA1.” The strain was clear in Grae’s voice. “My hand is stuck. It’s pulling me—”
The accelerometers on Grae’s suit shot up, velocity meters showed him gaining speed. Grae’s breathing became audibly stressed. He braced himself with his free hand and yanked with all his strength. Suddenly, he was spinning free, his helmet cam showing cascading images of the Gaussian, the spotlight on Dauntless, the pinpoint of the Rho Indi star. Through Ivey’s helmet cam, Mandi saw Grae whirling out of control, bumping along the hull of the Gaussian, puffs of propellant shooting from all sides of his pack in attempts to stabilize his suit.
“Get the hell out of there!” Ivey screamed.
“I got this,” Grae said between quickened breaths. “I got thi—”
An antennae mount protruding from the hull struck Grae hard. His helmet cam went to static and then black. The last thing Mandi heard through the audio feed was a sickening crunch and the sound of air escaping to vacuum.
Chapter 41
Sol System
Gregory Andrews looked up. The hatch to the main section of the CNS Resolute seemed to rotate in the entryway, and Andrews reminded himself that it was he who was rotating.
Throughout the large, cylindrical section of the high-g military transport, members of the nuclear inspection team were taking advantage of their limited time in the rotating partial g. On its outward journey from Earth, the entire ship went through long periodic stretches of full acceleration of its main engines, without any sections for the crew to operate in the effective gravity from thrust. This left passengers restricted to their berths until the engines ceased their burn, so Andrews relished his time in the rotating section. The partial g was high enough to be comfortable, but low enough that he didn’t need his cane. It almost made him feel young again.
Andrews’ comm buzzed in his pocket. It was a message from Erik. Under normal circumstances, such a message would not be unusual. However, on an extended outbound cruise, from dozens of light-years away, while Erik was meant to be keeping a low profile—
“Erik,” Andrews said under his breath, “why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to say?” Andrews opened the message and unlocked the encrypted video payload.
“I have news about the Mikel incident.” Erik paused and seemed to brace himself. “His accident was no such thing. The helo was taken down deliberately.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Andrews blurted at the recorded message, turning heads. “Someone is going to pay,” he muttered quietly, a determined edge in his voice.
“I secured a copy of the incident report, which is attached. It appears that the main rotor shafts of two of the three fans were severed. The chance of this happening to one rotor is slim. Two at the same time? Effectively nil. It must have been engineered. I did some digging with contacts on Earth, and everything points to one of the Euramerican Coalition intelligence agencies. I suspect CIS. My guess is that explosive residue will be found when the rotor shafts are examined.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“Danny Dagan is no fool. He will come to a similar conclusion. Request next steps. End transmission.”
Andrews grasped his comm so hard that he almost crushed it. Closing his eyes, he relaxed his grip. When his anger had subsided, he called the ship’s captain. “I need a private comm room and secure channel back to Earth. I’m calling the president.”
***
“I made a judgment call,” the president said. “You know I’m torn on the final phase of Deliverance. I felt that with Jans Mikel out of the way, we’d have a shot at avoiding that phase altogether. Whoever takes the place of Mikel won’t be as steadfast or resourceful. We’ll be able to accomplish our goals with far less risk.” The president’s feed froze, and a “transmission complete” message appeared at the bottom of the screen.
Someone is feeding him bad information, Andrews thought. Dagan is the clear Number Two at AIC, and steadfastness is one thing he does not lack.
“I wish our esteemed leader had the same trait,” Andrews said derisively under his breath. He lifted his head to the screen. “Begin transmission. Mr. President, I’m not sure where to start, so I’ll turn to history. The people of Euramerica don’t like sneak attacks. After the London and Stuttgart dirty-bomb incidents, the countries of Euramerica united like never before. That unity served to destroy the last state sponsors of terrorism and pushed the terror groups to the Outer Sphere. Ultimately, it enabled the foundation of the Coalition itself. In the early twenty-first century, the terror attacks of 9/11 launched a thirty-year war. In the twentieth century, the attack on Pearl Harbor during WWII united America and Britain and subsequently doomed two empires. AIC might be light-years from Earth, but it’s made up of the very same people. Jans Mikel was ready to talk. Our talks might not have gone anywhere, but they represented at least a chance to interact and possibly gain invaluable information. Even if they don’t find proof of your scheme, they will suspect it now, and their resolve against us will strengthen. There will be no talks, no negotiations. They will be on alert. You have left us only one path to follow, the very path you sought to avoid.
“Now the resolve must be ours. This is not just a political power play. The future of the Euramerican Coalition is at stake. If we delay, AIC passes the cusp of the Hyperium Paradox and all hope for unfettered access to the
stars is gone. Do you want to go down in history as the president who grounded humanity? Get Deliverance going. End transmission.”
“Message, Erik Hallerson, secure video.” Andrews’ comm displayed its “ready” icon. “You were right. Our fool president is wavering. We need to put the fear of God back into him. Contact our political donors. Take money out of the Southern states. Drop his lead to within the margin of error. Let’s lose it across the board in Australia. Even if we don’t get that lead back, it won’t decide the election. Don’t touch Europe. If we lose anything more there, the whole thing will be over. As for AIC, reach out again, let them know that our deal still stands. In the now-likely case that this thing with Mikel throws our talks down the shitter, make certain that the next phase of Deliverance is on track. End transmission.”
Andrews floated back from the comm panel, sweating slightly. Out of habit looked for his cane, subconsciously wanting to tap it. Shaking his head in frustration, he turned and propelled himself out of the secure comm room.
Chapter 42
Rho Indi System
Mandi reached for the med-bay, but hesitated and pulled back. Her eyes glistened, tears in check. She steadied herself with a deep breath, held her head high, and abruptly pushed the control.
The dim hallway lighting was bright behind her in comparison to the darkened med-bay. Only a blue-white glow emanated from beyond a screen at the rear of the bay. With trepidation, Mandi walked slowly toward it. Pausing at the vision threshold, she straightened, then took the final step. Her hand went immediately to her mouth, and tears began to flow.
Inside a long, clear tube, Grae floated motionless with his arms out, eyes closed, naked except for a tight pair of shorts and a mask over his nose and mouth. Sensors were connected to a dozen points around his body, feeding his vital signs to displays above.
“He’s a lucky guy.” Mandi jumped at Captain Stanton’s voice from the end of the bay.
