Dreaming of Atmosphere

by Jim C. Wilson

  “Good luck.”

  I drifted in silence, my thoughts calm and serene. It was hard to be anything but, surrounded as I was with the beauty of the stars. The Blade of Xerxes was still too far away to see with the naked eye, but I could track her with the aid of the Dreaming’s sensors. They would send a tight beam to my suit to guide me in, and I would see course adjustments appear on my overlay when they were required.

  I turned to face the Eridani star. This wasn’t the first star to be named Eridani. There were dozens, all through the galaxy. Epsilon Eridani, Eridani Major, Phi Eridani, Alpha Eridani, and so on. It was a popular name, but I had no idea where the original Eridani star was. History wasn’t one of my strong points. I did know my family’s history, though. The Donovans came from this system, but like my father, I was born on the Dreaming. This system held no significance to me beyond being a place I’ve visited a few times. I have relatives, but being a frontiersman I’m several generations out of touch with them. Travelling the stars also means anyone that may be of a similar age to me would be closer to my official age, than my biological age.

  I tried to recall what I knew of the system. The most heavily populated planet was Eridani Prime. The ecunomopolis planets that the previous system boasts are not as popular here. The Inner System Worlds, as this style of living is known, prefer wide-open spaces, estates and parklands to densely packed populations. Eridani Prime was once known as the Jewel of the Votus-Eridani Network, and twenty five billion sentients live there. Mostly, they are the aristocrats and nobles of the system. The ruling government is the Esper Monarchy, led by the Prime Monarch himself, Precept Geral Usher the 93rd. The Esper Monarchy also caters to a dozen noble houses, each house controlling some aspect of the government’s power. They are not the only faction to rule in this system, however.

  Two other factions have a significant claim to power in the Eridani System. Landford is a democratic government that controls the planet Tyrillian, a terraformed world that was once a cold, unforgiving place. Over the centuries, it had become a bastion of democracy, and a warm and comfortable world to live. The DonCrest Galactic Corporation has its headquarters in the system, out of a large habitat called Restus Station. At one time, DonCrest was controlled by the Esper Monarchy, but privatisation and shrewd politics saw it become a power in its own right, rising to galactic standing several hundred years ago.

  The system also houses the single largest habitat in the Network, the Acheras Orbital. This giant torus orbital, point four of an AU closer to the star than Eridani Prime, is nearly three thousand kilometres in diameter. The standing population is in the billions, and is the main population centre that is not a planet. A smaller planet close to the sun also hold a few million people, but despite terraforming and solar shields, the planet is far from comfortable to live on. The remaining ninety eight billion people who call the system home live on the thousands of habitats, space stations and orbitals that litter the star system. One of only two star systems in the Votus-Eridani Network to boast three Jump Gates, Votus II being the other, the transient population brings the inhabitants of the system well above the one hundred and fifty billion mark.

  This place was too crowded for my liking; I prefer the backwater systems like Argessi. Even Harakiwa System has only a fraction of the traffic this place has. There was always something going on out this way, but there were always too many ways to get killed, or swindled, or out bid, or any other way you can get screwed over. No, my home is the Dreaming.

  It was getting hard to make out the ion glow of the drives now, I still had a many hours to go before I caught up with the Blade of Xerxes, so I chatted with Tac for a time. I had him relaying messages to Fel, and through him Max. Eventually, I tried to sleep. My old drill sergeant in the Star Marines used to say that sleep was as good a weapon as any energy rifle. Get it when you could in a combat zone. The abyss I was drifting in would unnerve many, but to me I felt safe here. Little could harm me, so long as my equipment continued to function. Besides the giant organic ship bearing down on me, that is. I put the Xerxes out of my mind and asked Tac to wake me if anything occurred. Then I dozed.

  Hours later, and it was time to ready my plan. The Xerxes was visible to the naked eye, a few hundred kilometres away. A radar data package from the Dreaming told me the range and velocity of the ship, and it was time to calculate how much thrust I would need in order to survive contact. I was well positioned; I’d need little adjustment to my course. This was good, because it wouldn’t take much for me to alert the Xerxes to my presence. I still had some time, so I went over my plan with Tac.

  “Analyse the data from the Dreaming and tell me when to activate the jet pack. I have the thrust pre-programmed, so all I have to do is brace myself. As we approach, I’ll activate the grav-plate and attach my boots. When we hit the stabiliser field, the grav-plate should synchronise with the field and negate my inertia. That’s when we fire the jets.”

  I am well versed in the plan, First Mate Donovan.

  “I know, it’s more for me than you. Helps to focus on the task at hand, talking it out.”

  Very well, if it helps.

  “And you don’t always have to be formal. Please, call me Seth.”

  I apologise, Seth. Formalising your names helps me to categorise you and assign functions and hierarchies to your social standing.

  “Our social standing?”

  I am fascinated by the way living beings interact with each other, there are literally dozens of social standings on the Dreaming alone, amongst the crew. You interact with other crew in different ways, depending on who they are, what their current function is, who else is present in the compartment, and what is happening about the ship. You also behave very differently when clothed or unclothed.

  My face started to turn red. “Oh god, you can see us in our cabins?”

  Negative, Seth. I was only joking. Zoe has been teaching me about the role humour has in dangerous circumstances. She says you and several of the crew employ it to relieve tension and stress. Have I been inappropriate?

  “Ah, no. That was quite a good one actually. I had this horrible thought that you were watching Zoe and I…er. Do things.”

  What things would you be referring to?

  “You know…”

  I’m afraid I do not, Seth.

  “Living things.”

  Oh. Such as eating?

  “No. Like…er. When a male and a female…of the same species…when they…when full grown adults…” What the hell was I doing? Having the birds and the bee’s conversation with an AI while about to do an axial deployment on a Corporate warship? “Never mind. Yes, like eating.”

  Does watching you eat make you uncomfortable?

  “No. Look, let’s change the subject, okay?”

  Very well.

  With that minefield cleared, I began to mentally prepare myself for my almost suicidal attempt at saving my friends and loved ones. Now that is much more up my alley.

  49.

  The closer the Xerxes got, the faster it seemed to be travelling. In actuality, it was travelling faster each second, but the rate at which it grew in my vision was startling. It was at this point in an axial deployment that most rookies bail out. The fear that one would collide with the target at too high velocity differential was real, and it took courage and a trust in your own reflexes, your own technology, to see it through.

  I aligned my-self so my feet were pointing down, the grav-plav between the ship and my boots. I waited the final few moments with baited breath; my thumb on my jet back thrust controls. If I miscalculated this, and I bounced off the hull, I was as good as dead. Maxine would not be able to come around and pick me up, there were no rescue shuttles in the area to collect floating marines after the battle. I had to wait until the grav-plates synchronised with the stabiliser field of the ship before I could engage my jet pack. If I ignited my thruster too early the inertia of the jet pack would also be cancelled, and I’d collide with the hull with en
ough force to shatter every bone in my body. I had a window of about half a second.

  If I managed to get that window right, I could arrest my velocity with ease, slowing down to a safe speed relative to the ship to allow the bottom of the grav-plate to magnetically clamp to the hull. At first, I thought I’d horribly miscalculated my chances of this occurring, and it only occurred to be half way through my drift through open space, as the hull of these organo-ships were living tissue. Tac had assured me, though, that the outer hulls were constructed, or grown, using an organic composite that include ferrous properties. He said it was essential to starship construction that the hulls were able to interact with electro-magnetic forces in order to allow certain functions. He assured me that mag-boots and grav-plate mag clamps would indeed work. Time to put that theory to test.

  The Blade of Xerxes was huge, not just big on a starship scale, but truly massive. It was easily several kilometres in length, and several hundred metres in diameter. It was shaped like a giant terrestrial squid, with a bulbous front section that tapered off at the end in a trio of tendrils. It was a solid matte black, with hundreds of arrays and sensor pods all around it. I thought I could make out the rail gun porthole near the centre of the mass. I figured it would be near there as it was a spinal gun that ran the length of the ship.

  The final distance closed to a few metres, and I saw that I was in trouble already. The hull curved, sweeping back towards the outer flanges of the main bulk further back on the ship. The angle would mean that I had a very real risk of simply sliding off, despite doing everything right. My training kicked into over drive, and I angled the grav-plate to match the hull, but due to the angle of approach, it wouldn’t make much difference. My overlay pulsed white, my signal from Tac that I’d synchronised with the stabiliser field. I activated the jet pack and bent my knees slightly.

  With a bone jarring impact, I hit the hull, and the grav-plate mag clamps struggled to grip the hull. As I feared, the angle of force directed me towards the rear of the ship and I began to slide at an alarming rate. My back was throbbing in pain, as were my knees. I halted the jet pack burn and leant forward, falling onto my hands. I engaged the mag clamps in my gloves and gradually began to feel myself slow. A passing antenna array warned me to turn around and try to see where I was sliding. A head, about fifteen metres down was another array, all jutting spikes and branch-like outcroppings. If I hit that, a suit tear would mean the end of me. I tried to angle my slide by flailing my arms on the hull, trying to anchor myself somehow, but it was no good. In desperation, I use Spatial Translation and teleported fifty metres but up the slope, from the direction I came. I still had my momentum, but the grav-plate mag clamps had not re-engaged. I released my boots’ lock on the plate and kicked it away, using my own mag boots to grip the hull. I was on all fours, feet and hands, sliding still, but now I had more control. Eventually, I slowed to a halt, my arms shaking with effort and my breathing heavy. I waited a few moments to catch my breath.

  “Tac, please let the Dreaming know that I have successfully completed stage one.”

  Certainly, Seth. Congratulations.

  I took stock of my surroundings. I could stand now, and I stretched my legs and bent my back to try and work some of the pain out. No broken bones, no sprains or other deadly debilitating injuries. I unhooked my equipment bag and rummaged around for my tool bag, extracting a pen shaped device, careful not to dislodge anything and lose it to outer space. I secured the bag again, and activated the device. A light green light emitted from the end, and I played it slowly over the hull all about me. It was a hand scanner that would map the surface looking for anomalies that could indicate the presence of an airlock. A three dimensional map appeared in my overlay as I scanned, and soon Tac highlighted an area about forty metres away towards the…well. I hadn’t yet designated an ‘up’ and ‘down’, but I guess I could use the front of the ship as ‘up’. The hatch was to my left and down about thirty degrees.

  I carefully made my way over to the hatch and looked for any controls. Better yet, I found a small view port that showed the darkened interior of the airlock. I pointed my scanner into the port and mapped out the inside.

  “I have enough info to translate directly into the ‘lock. Density of the atmosphere indicates it’s pressurised, so unless I want to alert the ship to a hull breach, this is the best way. Worth the expenditure of charge.”

  I concur. Informing the Dreaming of stage 2 progress. The Captain wishes you a speedy return, and Zoe sends her love.

  “Okay, here we go.”

  I concentrated on the space inside the airlock and activated the Spatial Translation paradigm. The shift in gravity was disorienting, and I fell to the deck like a sack. The ship’s local gravity was oriented so that ‘down’ was aft, towards the stern of the ship. I untangled myself from the mess I’d fallen in and began to strip down out of my space suit. It was a struggle, these suits were never meant to be put on by a single person, but eventually I was free of its burden. I pulled on the Infantry Vest and my ablative coat, strapped on my PX-2, attached my brace of grenades and party poppers, stowed my extra batteries on my webbing, clipped the lurzak to my belt, slung Tac over my shoulder and attached an anchor point to my webbing at my back and hooked the bag with the explosive charges next to it. My tool bag was slung from a utility hook on the other side from the sword.

  I examined the inner ‘lock hatch, and found the access panel. I inserted Fel’s override device and a green light lit on the controls. The hatch slid open and I stepped into a long darkly lit passageway. The air in here was warm, and had a strange smell to it. I could feel a breeze flowing aft and hear a hushed sound like a constant breath.

  “Is that the life support making that sound?”

  There are several oxygen organs at the far end of this passageway. I would assume the organs would try to circulate air constantly about the ship.

  “It’s warmer in here than the Dreaming.”

  Also the result of using living organs for life support. All of the organs generate heat as a by-product, which in turn bleeds into the ship as heating. It is a very efficient system.

  “We can marvel at its ingenuity from afar, while it’s drifting disabled through space and I’m escaping in a ship back to the Dreaming.”

  I understand, Seth. I shall focus my commentary on purely factual and advisory observations.

  “Appreciated. Which way now? I can’t linger here for too long.”

  Ships of large scale need fast means of transportation along their axis, for emergency and operational requirements. I would advise you locate one as soon as possible.

  I moved at a brisk jog towards to my left. The passage curved around in both directions and I passed a hatch on my way. I paused to see if there were any notifications or designations on the hatch, but could find none save for an alpha numeric code – C2:028.

  I continued on my way, passing several more hatches. Each one had an ascending number – C2:029, C2:030, C2:031. I began to realise that each number represented the access hatch. The C2 probably represented the deck number. After jogging for about ten minutes, I’d come full circle. I had passed C2:040 and the numbers had begun again at C2:001. The airlock hatch was C2:028. I would have to enter one of these hatches.

  I returned to C2:001 and pressed the release button. The hatch slid open to reveal another passageway ahead about twenty metres the ended in a T-junction. I checked the designation on the combing behind me as I stepped through. It read B2:015. The letter must represent the ring of compartments on each deck. I said as much to Tac.

  Logic would dictate that the main access corridor should be on ring A.

  “I agree. If the hatches follow the same pattern, the access to ring A should be at B2:001.”

  I trotted off in one direction, and found B2:014. As I was running past it I heard the hatch begin to open, and I turned around with my carbine at the ready. I kneeled as a figure stepped out of the hatch and turned their back to me witho
ut a care. The figure walked away, in the middle of a conversation on his overlay, no doubt. He was a dark blue jump suit and was unarmed. I watched and waited, and when the figure was almost around a bend, he checked a pocket and came up empty. He turned about as if he’d forgotten something and saw me. He froze and starred down at my gun. Don’t do it, I thought. He did. He turned and was about to run, but I opened up with a three round burst straight into his back. He fell to the deck, his flesh a smocking ruin. He was dead by the time I got to him. I checked down the passageway as far as I could see and rummaged through his pockets. I found a writing stylus and a packet of candy. I sighed and began to drag his corpse back to the hatch he’d left. I checked the compartment first, finding it to be an empty office with a couple of consoles and a desk. There was a cupboard against one bulkhead, and a half-empty stationary store. I pushed the body into the cupboard and closed the door. It would have to do.

  I left the compartment and continued on my way, counting the hatches as they went down towards B2:001. I had two more encounters on the way, but luckily, I was able to duck out of sight while the crew walked away. My luck would not last.

  I made it to B2:001 and opened the hatch. Inside was much like when I entered C2:001, a straight corridor that lead to a T-junction, which was also a ringed passageway. Suddenly, a pulsing light and an alert sounded. A throaty, deep sounding voice carried throughout the passageway, and for a moment, I thought I’d been discovered. What I heard chilled me to the bone, though.

  “All hands, prepare for firing. Three rounds. T898 Thermal warheads.”

  In moments, I heard a vibrating chuffing sound that echoed throughout the entire section. Three times. I hoped the Dreaming was ready. I had to pick up my pace. I ran around the passageway, counting down towards A2:001. In my haste, I made a mistake and ran straight into view of three crew walking towards me. They were surprised, and only one was armed. I stitched all three across the bellies with my carbine, and they died thrashing in pain. I walked up them and made sure they were dead before looking around for a place to hide their bodies. The nearest hatch was A2:007. I popped the hatch and covered the entrance with my gun. It was an equipment room of some kind. Occupied by a single crew, bent over a console in concentration. He looked up as I opened the door and was confused by what he saw. My first shots caught him squarely in the chest and he died, still unsure of what he was seeing. I dragged the corpses to the compartment and hid them behind and beneath the consoles. This appeared to be a monitoring station of some kind.