by Mike Freeman
“Weavrian energy offers a step change in human potential. One that would allow us to penetrate an order of magnitude further into the stars. And concentrate energy in ways we have not been able to contemplate before.”
Havoc shook his head, unimpressed.
“So it’s another RMA?”
Brennen nodded slowly.
“It’s undeniable this technology has military applications, Mr Havoc. But the greater opportunity is in energy generation and extending our reach into the stars. We'll be able to travel greater distances with greater mass. The possibilities are limitless.”
Weaver twisted in her seat to face the crew.
“I want to echo what a great opportunity this is. And to confirm that this mission is far more than a 'Revolution in Military Affairs' as you put it, Mr Havoc.”
Havoc didn’t react. Old wine in new bottles as far as he was concerned. No matter what the supposed humanitarian benefit, these things were always about the struggle for military supremacy – a Red Queen Race if ever there was one.
Brennen resumed the briefing.
“You are onboard the Alliance Vessel Intrepid, ably captained by Ship Captain Yamamoto, to whom we give thanks for our safe arrival.”
Brennen nodded at Yamamoto and she bowed her head in return.
“We are now decelerating to arrive in system in less than two days time. We've signaled to make contact with the life that we believe lies ahead of us, but we’ve not yet received a measurable response. If we had you'd all have been woken a lot earlier, believe me. However we are not alone, and unfortunately I don't mean that in a cosmic sense.”
Brennen gestured at Ship Captain Yamamoto, who stood up and faced the crew. Yamamoto was a slight, compact woman. Her hair, tied back in a disciplined bun, was drawn across her scalp so tightly it looked as though it could be plucked like piano wire. Yamamoto’s face was grim as she projected a flotilla of ships onto the briefing holo.
“Behind us is a group of ten Hspace vessels that are converging on our destination.”
“Ten!” Abbott said.
Widespread consternation and disbelief ensued.
“Do we know who they are?” Havoc said.
Yamamoto nodded.
“We can identify most of them. There are four ships of the United Systems, a Gathering behemoth, an ORC battlecruiser, an Empire of the Sun battlecruiser, a People's Republic exploration vessel and two smaller vessels, one of which matches an HSL profile though I don't know much about them.”
To say Abbott didn’t sound happy was an understatement.
“We have ships from every other Tier-1 civilization approaching this system?”
“Yes, Ambassador.”
“Damn and blast it!”
There was shock across the room. Havoc couldn't pretend he was relaxed about the news, but in reality it usually happened this way. Once the secret was out, it was often all the way out. Clearly, all six Tier-1 civilizations thought this was a prize worth fighting for.
“Did you say the HSL?” Weaver said, referring to the tiny Tier-5 civilization.
Yamamoto nodded.
“You know them?”
Weaver nodded.
“Mission security?” Stephanie said.
“Looks compromised,” Yamamoto said.
Abbott shook his head.
“You are a master of understatement, Captain.”
Stephanie frowned.
“That's a massive commitment by the United Systems.”
Yamamoto nodded.
“They're taking it seriously.”
“So are we,” Abbott said.
Havoc studied the Empire of the Sun vessel.
“Is that the Brilliance?”
Yamamoto highlighted a ship on the holo.
“Yes. The EOS Brilliance, first of the Brilliance class. A terawatt band phase array on the bow. But the other ships are capable as well. I'm confused about the Gathering of the Truly Faithful vessel though, the Glorious Messenger.”
Havoc had a sinking feeling.
“Its mass?”
Yamamoto nodded.
“Exactly.”
“It's a dumper. It'll leave part of the ship and crew behind. They sacrifice themselves for the greater good. Might as well be called the Glorious Sacrifice. It carries more mass than it has fuel to take both ways.”
Stone frowned.
“Good God.”
Touvenay raised an eyebrow.
“Quite. The redeemer will save them.”
Touvenay turned to Jafari.
“No offense.”
Jafari shrugged.
“No problem.”
Jafari was their sensor and systems expert. He was a nerd and proud of it. Havoc knew this because Jafari was wearing a T-shirt that said 'Nerds of the universe – unite!' Havoc wondered if the alien nerds would be up for it. Jafari also shared the faith of the Gathering of the Truly Faithful – though, Havoc assumed, not to the same extent as the Gathering, given that he was happy to mix with infidels and, possibly worse, women.
Abbott’s expression was pained.
“Everything will change now. It's a gold rush. And with the current level of tension in Hspace, a conflict here could lead to war at home.”
Weaver frowned.
“We planned to do months of survey before we even landed on the surface.”
Tyburn shrugged.
“Not any more.”
“Don't jump to conclusions,” Weaver said.
Tyburn looked at her.
“You think the other ships will wait?”
Havoc wondered about the specifics.
“Just how far behind are they? How long will we have before they start to arrive?”
“Two days at most,” Yamamoto said.
Weaver’s mouth dropped open.
“Two days!”
Brennen nodded.
“We need to accelerate everything if we want to obtain useful information before the other ships arrive. Compromises to bio-security and containment protocols look essential.”
Weaver was dumbfounded.
“This is madness.”
“Can we make a claim?” Stephanie said.
Humberstone shook his head.
“No. We don't have an established settlement, so from a legal perspective, the mission target is open.”
Havoc thought that those relying on legal niceties would be in for an unpleasant surprise. Life at the frontier was about winners and losers, not right and wrong.
Brennen clasped his hands behind his back.
“I want to say a few words about our team. When this mission was first conceived, the finest minds in our Alliance devised the ultimate team, who together would rise to any challenge and deliver a perfect mission.”
Brennen paused.
“Unfortunately, that team wasn’t available.”
Laughter.
A voice came from the security team.
“That explains why we have more lawyers than doctors.”
“Let us hope they are not billing our great Alliance by the hour,” Abbott said.
Brennen smiled and then his face turned serious.
“I know not everyone chose to be here. I remember as a young man I was forwarded three times in transit, still frozen, to a new mission. Each time I woke up expecting to greet my wife and family. It was an awful shock to find I'd been redeployed.”
Leveque nodded at Brennen, grateful for the acknowledgment.
“But please consider that while you did not choose, you were indeed chosen. You were chosen as the best from our Alliance. We are the team that was chosen and we are the team for the job. We don’t know what we will find. We don’t know what challenges we will face – we are journeying into the genuine unknown. It's exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. But we do have a clear goal. To obtain an understanding of this energy source that could transform our society for the better, and to forge a strong bond of friendship with the species that controls it.”
Brennen swept his eyes across the room, exuding confidence in his team.
“I believe that we have what it takes to succeed. I believe in everyone here. So should you. Make your team, your families, your nation and most importantly, yourselves, proud. Thank you.”
The room burst into applause, Havoc included. It was inspirational stuff. Spirited conversations sprung up across the room as Stone turned excitedly to Havoc.
“We’re making history here.”
Havoc smiled as Brennen gestured with his arm.
“I’ll hand you over to our scientific lead, Evelyn Weaver.”
Great, Havoc thought. Evelyn Weaver, who now hated his guts, was their scientific lead. He was glad he hadn't told her about her father before the briefing – she'd likely be in pieces.
Weaver switched the holo image to a burnished copper planet that was illuminated on one side and dark on the other. The illuminated side scintillated with color as if the planet was a diamond in a sunbeam.
Weaver waited for the hubbub to die down.
“What we are heading toward is a planet, or a ship, so we refer to it as Plash. Plash has a diameter of six thousand two hundred kilometers, half that of our Origin Home. This gives it a surface area of one hundred and twenty one million square kilometers and, should we be able to enter the Plash itself, a volume of one hundred and twenty five billion cubic kilometers.”
Havoc sat forward, incredulous.
“You think it might be a ship?”
“There are reasons to believe the planet may be steerable in some fashion, yes.”
Havoc sat back, astonished.
Weaver indicated a peculiar narrow cylinder connected with Plash which distorted the stars in the holo image beyond it as if gazing through a mirage.
“This is the first twist in our margarita. This strange beam emerging from Plash – at least we assume it is emerging – appears, insofar as we can tell, to be a strange beam.”
There was laughter.
Weaver smiled.
“We have no idea what it is, except...”
Weaver panned along the beam in the holo. Plash slid out of view as Weaver continued to pan along the beam for some time. It was as if a piece of rope was being pulled through the holo image. Abruptly the narrow cylinder ended.
“Nothing?” Havoc said, confused.
Weaver struggled to suppress a grin.
“You are more right than you know, Mr Havoc. At the end of the beam is an inexplicable gravitational anomaly. We have no idea how this tiny anomaly can exist, how it can be moving along with Plash, or how it could possibly be connected with Plash. It is,” – Weaver spread her hands and in a peculiar inversion of a detective declaring a murderer's identity, pronounced with delight – “a complete and total mystery!”
There was a loud crash from behind the counter. The silence following the crash was broken only by the rising tones venting from the assorted apertures in Fournier's coffee machine.
Whittenhorn walked forward from his position against the wall. Brennen raised his hand to indicate restraint. It was clear, however, that the gamboling lamb had gone too far. The sheep dog had arisen. Brennen’s tone brooked no argument.
“Mr Fournier, you will join us, securely seated in this briefing, in the next minute.”
Fournier made his way around the counter.
“I'm coming, Captain, I'm coming.”
Fournier wended his way through their historic briefing balancing a tray holding a dozen small cups. The aroma of coffee was tantalizing. Fournier reached the front and proffered the tray to Brennen.
“Please, help yourself. It’s from my own farm.”
Whittenhorn looked like he wanted the attack command. Brennen shook his head, chuckling as he lifted a cup.
“Thank you, Mr Fournier. Or do you prefer Doctor?”
Fournier shook his head.
“Oh no, never did get my PhD.”
Fournier walked over to Whittenhorn and held out the tray. Whittenhorn, hating himself but unable to resist, took a cup.
Brennen set down his cup.
“My God, Fournier. My God that is good.”
Fournier looked delighted as he fussed along the front row. The coffee smelled delicious. Even Whittenhorn looked impressed.
“Wonderful,” Prince Charles said from one side.
“God that is orgasmic,” said one of the women on the security team.
Havoc felt increasing distress as he watched the remaining cups dwindle. Surely Fournier would keep that last cup for himself? Havoc felt himself tense up. The coffee smelt like ambrosia of the Gods.
Fournier stopped beside him. The tray was empty. Havoc grieved.
Fournier turned to him.
“I'll just get the next tray.”
A choir of angels sang a chord in divine harmony. Havoc watched Fournier threading through the group in what was perhaps the most surreal briefing of his life. He realized that Fournier needed the attention. Fournier had a huge brood of kids at home and was used to fussing over, and being fussed over, by his wife and kids. He needed this.
Fournier came back and presented him with an espresso sized cup of coffee. The surface was a lustrous red-rust crema. The aroma rising off it was intense and pure. It smelt divine. Havoc sipped it, savoring its thick, viscous texture.
“Bliss,” Touvenay murmured.
Best coffee of Havoc’s life, bar none. He looked up at Fournier.
“Fantastic, thank you.”
Fournier looked gratified as he continued to move along.
Darkwood murmured with approval as he set down his cup.
“What would life be if we couldn't enjoy simple pleasures?”
Touvenay savored the flavor with the assiduity of a connoisseur.
“There is no sincerer love than the love of food and drink. We should, after all, show our new friends that we can enjoy the virtues of civilization.”
Havoc noticed Tyburn off to one side with Weaver as he sipped his coffee. The pair were clearly casting to each other, as their faces indicated conversation but no words were being spoken. Weaver spun on her heel and stormed back to the front, evidently furious.
Tyburn turned and communicated with Brennen.
Brennen turned and walk toward Havoc.
Oh dear, he thought.
“John, we've decided to appoint you to the scientific team as a floating escort,” Brennen said.
Havoc deciphered the heated cast between Tyburn and Weaver. Tyburn was dumping Havoc on Weaver and Weaver didn't like it.
“Oh?”
Brennen nodded.
“We've decided the security team forms a cohesive unit already and that the scientific team is more decentralized. They could use various types of direct support like escort, pilot and––”
“General dogsbody?”
Brennen smiled at him.
Havoc spread his hands.
“Whatever you think is best.”
“Thank you, John.”
Brennen turned to Fournier, who looked gratified as he stood sipping his coffee at the back.
“May we?” Brennen asked, amused.
“Please, Captain,” Fournier said, incorrectly addressing Commander Brennen for perhaps the second time. Who did not correct him, Havoc noted.
Brennen turned and nodded to Weaver, who stepped forward.
“We have a lot, and I mean a lot, of supplementary data on shipnet. This is strictly some of the high points.”
She gestured at the holo.
“Plash’s atmosphere is non-breathable and consists largely of nitrogen with decreasing amounts of ammonia, sulfur, oxygen and carbon dioxide. The surface gravity is half of standard and the surface pressure is two atmospheres. Wind speeds can exceed a thousand kilometers per hour depending on height and exposure.”
Havoc winced. The wind sounded atrocious.
Weaver spun the holo with a flick of her hand.
“Plash has a magnetic field that fluctuates between one and fi
ve times standard and it actually flips, reversing direction, around every twelve hours. We don’t know why.”
Weaver zoomed the holo onto Plash's surface at the transition between night and day. On the cusp of light and dark was a vast standing wave of fire and vapor, hundreds of meters high, that was constantly curling forward as the planet rolled away beneath it; it was a never breaking tsunami trapped in the limbo between night and day.
“Sick,” Jafari said.
“It looks like the Wrath of God,” Darkwood said.
Weaver projected data alongside the holo image.
“The surface temperature varies from minus one hundred and fifty degrees Celsius in the shade up to eighteen hundred in direct sunlight. Plash’s orbital sector around Neria is colder; while around Jötunn, as Plash will be on our arrival, it experiences the heat.”
Fournier’s tone was mild.
“Those temperature ranges seem unlikely. Given the atmosphere there shouldn't be sufficient time for that type of temperature differential to develop.”
“I agree.”
Fournier frowned.
“Unless the heat is being drawn off, somehow...”
Weaver grinned.
“Exciting, isn't it?”
“Is our equipment rated for those temperatures?” Kemensky asked.
Weaver turned to Brennen, who answered.
“The entry vehicles are, for a time, though most equipment would degrade to failure in the maximum temperature. We don't want to be out in the sun. We have major constraints on surface access to Plash when it orbits Jötunn.”
Weaver nodded as she zoomed the holo in on a giant hyperboloid structure, wider at its top and bottom than at mid-height. Reddish clouds hugged the narrow waist of the elongated hourglass.
“I want to highlight some notable surface features. Across the surface are lines of these towers, each fifteen kilometers high.”
'Oohs' and 'aahs' came from the audience.
Touvenay looked enraptured.
“Genuine alien architecture,” he breathed.
Weaver panned the holo.
“Near the equator are more architectural features, including these towers of varying sizes.”
There were sounds of awe. Havoc studied the immense circular structures. Their walls, though fuzzy at the presented resolution, were adorned in arches, columns and carvings.
“We call the largest central tower the Colosseum. It's three kilometers high.”
