“Admiral,” came a call on the com. “You may want to see this.”
The Admiral cursed again, knowing that those words meant that he damned sure didn’t want to see whatever was on the newscast. Duty demanded that he did watch, so he acknowledged the buzzing in his link and brought up the vid.
The scene was of a large smoking building, sheets of flame shooting up the upper floors. A replay came on, showing a commercial airliner slamming into the building. The Admiral was sure that he had seen this before, or at least one very much like it.
They’re using that one again, he thought, calling up an overlay of the Tsarzor continent and all of its commercial air traffic. And the blinking icons of six large airliners that were not on their predicted paths.
“Send out a com on the standard air traffic freqs,” he ordered. “All aircraft not on their required flight paths are to return to them immediately, or they will be shot down.”
“Acknowledged,” said the Com Officer, and a moment later that message was being transmitted on every standard and emergency frequency used by aircraft on the planet, in every language.
Nguyen watched the holo carefully for the next few minutes, watching as three of the airliners, who were only marginally off course, turned back onto their proper paths. And three didn’t.
“Shoot those three down,” ordered the Admiral in a flat voice, knowing that even if he was ordering the destruction of three hijacked airplanes, he was also dooming at least five hundred civilians to a sure death.
One laser shot each was all it took. The craft were moving at no more than nine hundred kilometers an hour, with nothing in the way of defenses or countermeasures. The lasers came down from ships in orbit, with clear tracks and nothing to get in the way of the beams. It took no more than a fraction of a second’s exposure from a weapon made to burn its way through strong electromag fields and tough armor to blast through thin aluminum. Each of the three airliners converted into balls of fire shooting thousands of pieces of fuselage into the air. The passengers and the people who had taken over the planes didn’t even have time to know they were hit, transitioning from living to dead too fast for their nervous systems to register the journey.
“I want to know how those people got weapons on board those aircraft,” shouted the Admiral to his security section. “And then I want us to get the equipment and people in place to keep it from happening again.”
Un-fucking-believable, he thought, all of those deaths already weighing on him. Killing terrorists didn’t bother him in the least. Killing innocents did, and he was tired of having to order those deaths, even if he had just prevented up to ten thousand more fatalities when those airliners were crashed into crowded skyscrapers or malls.
I almost can’t wait for that damned star to blow, so this assignment will be over with. Unbeliever or not, the Admiral considered that an evil thought, wishing destruction on sentient beings just so things would be more convenient for him. Even if those people were doomed to die anyway, no matter what he did.
* * *
“And you’re sure that’s where we need to be?” asked Captain Gertrude Hasslehoff of her Navigator, Lt. Commander Benji McManus.
“No, ma’am,” admitted the young, mahogany skinned officer. “There really is no way to tell for sure. But according to all the navigational formulas I have run our positional data through, that should be Klassek’s star. Or at least the gravity shadow of it. And here is Gromor, or Hrrottha, what we call Big Bastard. This trio over here corresponds to the Q-423ZX formation of bright young stars. You know, the one with the octopus shaped nebula. Which would mean this has to be the star we’re looking for.”
Hasslehoff sat there for a moment, thinking. They had used gravity shadows and their correspondence to real stars to navigate hyper dimensions for a thousand years. It was a time honored technique, proven over and over again. That was part of the problem. No one had ever navigated this kind of space before, and what had worked so well in hyper might just be a lie in this dimension.
“What’s the correspondence to regular space?” That was also an important question. As far as they knew, light speed was still the limit in this dimension. But they were not sure of the correspondence between this space and the normal space that they were used to. Hyper I had a 9.8 to 1 correspondence, meaning for every light year traversed in hyper I they moved a corresponding 9.8 light years in normal space. And the correspondence increased by a factor of four for each level up, until in hyper VII they were moving over forty thousand light years in normal space for every light year in the higher dimension.
“I’m not positive, ma’am. If I had to guess, I would say somewhere between IV and V.”
“So we’re looking at, what?” asked the Captain, doing the math quickly in her head. “Between a month and three months to get there?”
“That seems about right, ma’am.”
“We’ll, we don’t have anything better to do,” Hasslehoff said with a smile. “And I don’t see us coming up with some kind of magic translation device to get us back to normal space before we run out of antimatter.” They had already tried multiple times to translate both to normal space and the various dimensions of hyper with their generator. Nothing happened, and they had come to the conclusion that their hyperfield generator was not going to do shit in this dimension.
“We need to get to the region of those artifacts to have a hope of getting back.” And hope that whatever transported us here, and teleported us out this far, is in the mood to bring us back. “Go ahead and plot our course to that shadow. As soon as you have it in, contact me, and we’ll get under way.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the Navigator, getting up from his seat and turning to go.
“And Benji,” she said, causing him to turn. “Good job. Now get us home.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the man with a wide smile. “Thank you.”
And now I just have to hope this little jaunt actually gets us somewhere.
* * *
“Welcome aboard, Dr. Phillipson,” said Captain Walther Huang as the scientist came out of the shuttle which had delivered him to the Lewis. “We are at your service.”
He felt Commander Harrison, his Exec, stiffen at his side as she laid eyes on the astrophysicist from the Imperial University.
Huang wondered again about the orders that had brought the scientist here. Of course the Lewis had better sensors than anything the research vessel Phillipson had come on possessed. Better screens, armor, acceleration, top velocity. Everything better suited to getting away and weathering the storm if anything happened.
“As long as I get the cooperation I ask for, we will get along fine, Captain,” said the small man, managing somehow to look down his nose at the taller officer.
“And this is my Exec, Commander Stephanie Harrison,” continued Huang, gesturing to the woman.
“And this is what happens when one fails to complete their doctorate, eh, Stephanie,” said the man with a cold smile. “At least a naval officer doesn’t require as much intelligence, eh.”
Harrison’s face reddened, and Huang could tell she was holding in the retort she wanted to make.
“Dr. Phillipson,” said the Captain, staring into the eyes of the scientist. “We are ordered to cooperate with you in your research of this pending supernova. We are not ordered to act as your slaves or whipping boys. Whatever problems you have with my Exec are between you and her, but I will not stand for having her insulted in public.” Especially since it appears that between the two of you, she is the much more competent.
“And if I tell your Admiral about your attitude?”
“You tell Admiral Nguyen whatever you feel you must,” said Huang, actually putting his face close to that of the scientist. “I am sure his reaction will surprise one of us. And I don’t think it will be me.”
“Just show me to my quarters, and find places for my assistants.”
“You and your assistants will be bunking in one of the junior offic
ers’ quarters, which will give each of you a comfortable room, and a common area to meet in.”
The scientist didn’t look like he was happy about that, but was obviously forcing himself to not get into a shouting match in front of his assistants, who were also his students. “Lead on, Captain.”
“Ms. Harrison will show you to your quarters,” said Huang with a feeling of satisfaction, particularly when he saw the reaction on the scientist’s face.
The next week was a nightmare of demands. Move the ship closer, turn off the electromag field, retune this or that sensor. Some were easy to fulfil, though a pain in the ass for the crew involved.
At the end of the first week Stephanie Harrison had come to the Captain, looking as if she were on the verge of tears. Huang knew her as a tough and competent officer, one of the best he had ever served with. She was also a compassionate and caring woman, who was a wonder when it came to crew counseling.
“That bastard,” she said as soon as she had entered Huang’s day cabin.
“What has he done now?” he asked, not having to ask who she was talking about.
“I tried to explain my hypothesis to him. Even offered to show him the math. And all he could say was that, ‘math is not the proper province of small minds’. And then one of his graduate students made remarks about plagiarizing the work of others, and how someone who did so should be drummed out of academia.”
She sat there for a moment, shaking with fury before she looked up at her commander. “You know I didn’t steal anyone else’s work. That I couldn’t have taken someone else’s intellectual labor as my own. It was that damned major professor of Phillipson’s, the arrogant prick. And of course everyone believed him, and wouldn’t even ask him to testify under a scan.”
“I’ve known you long enough, Stephanie, to know you are one of the most honorable people I’ve ever served with. I trust your hypothesis, and the math you derived it from, as well. In case you didn’t notice, I’m keeping us beyond the hyper barrier, no matter the demands of that jackass that I move closer to the star. So just put up with him, keep your mouth shut, and whenever it gets to be too much, you know where to come.”
“Thank you, Captain,” she said, running a hand across her face to catch the few tears she had let shed.
Later that day, he was confronted by Phillipson once again.
“I demand that you move the ship closer to the star. I can’t get the readings I need this far out.”
“That’s why we have probes all through the system, Doctor. If they get vaporized, no sweat off of me.”
“But there is no risk. Once the star goes into iron burning, just head back out at maximum acceleration and pop into hyper.”
“According to my Exec, we might not be able to get into hyper once the star blows. Maybe even when it gets to the point of collapse, before the rebound.”
“And your Exec doesn’t know what she’s talking about, Captain. I have a doctorate from Imperial University, while she was dismissed for academic dishonesty.”
“And I do not believe that, Phillipson,” said Huang in a growl. “I have known her a heck of a lot longer than you, and, to be frank, I trust her a hell of a lot more.”
The scientist stormed out of the day cabin at that, muttering about reports he was going to file with the Command. Huang did not feel threatened. He knew the caliber of the people placed over him, and was sure that Phillipson would not get the response he was expecting.
The next day Phillipson was back. “I want to get a better look at those alien artifacts,” he said, pulling up a holo of one of the objects in orbit around the star. “I need you to move your ship closer, so we can put some people aboard.”
“I can’t do that, Doctor. Haven’t you seen my report on the objects? After putting that first probe aboard one, everything else we have gotten near it has disappeared.”
“But not destroyed,” insisted the scientist. “And everything you sent over was a machine. I’m betting that whoever built these things built in a failsafe to protect organic sentient life.”
And you’re not going to be the one betting his life on that, thought the Captain, shaking his head.
And so it went, with Dr. Phillipson making daily demands, and the Captain refusing him. Huang knew they were still doing good observational science here. He just regretted that the asshole he was saddled with would get all the credit.
* * *
First Councilman Rizzit Contena sat in his seat at the head of the council chamber and listened to the interminable debates about how his nation shouldn’t cooperate with the aliens. After months of attacks, after they were assured that Zzarr was no longer among the living, people were growing weary of the terror attacks. And if we refuse to cooperate, where does that get us. The humans have already taken hundreds of thousands of people off planet, and built shelters for millions more. Are we supposed to destroy those shelters, just to satisfy a bunch of fanatics.
“And if we stop cooperating, the fanatics of Honish will stop hitting us. Stop hurting us. They are not hurting the humans, with their superior tech, armor suits, and spaceships. They are hurting the innocent among our people. So if we give them what they want, they will stop.”
“What about the people that have already been taken off planet?” he asked the council member. “We can’t give them the return of those people without the humans cooperating. And I can’t see them doing that after going to all the effort they went to of evacuating them in the first place.”
“Then we demand that they do.”
“And with their superior tech, armored suits, and spaceships, why would they listen to us?” asked another council member.
“Then let’s put it to a vote,” said the junior council member. All agreed, and the vote was taken, with it split equally among the sitting council members. Which left it up to Rizzit to cast the deciding vote.
“We will give the humans their time, and hope they will save as many of our people as they can. And I, for one, will not bow down to cowards who can only strike at the weak.”
The meeting broke up with half the council angry, the other half just afraid, and one leader who hoped he was making the right decision.
Chapter Twenty-two
Sometimes we think we’re the masters of the Universe. One only has to look at the remains of a supernova to know that for the lie it is.
Dr. Larry Southard.
JULY 3RD, 1001. D-0
“Spectrograph is showing iron burning,” called out the Sensor Officer, looking back at the Captain with alarm.
Captain Walther Huang looked up from his chair, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Big Bastard in the viewer. It didn’t look any different than before, but the spectrograph lines along the side told the story. And we’re sitting nine light hours away, which means what we’re looking at now happened nine light hours ago. And the iron burning stage will only run for about twenty hours. Shit.
“Prepare for jump into hyper I,” called out the Captain, and the crew of the Merriwether Lewis came back with their acknowledgements.
“What is going on, Captain Huang?” asked Dr. Avery Phillipson, running over from the station he was using to monitor the star. “I need more time to take readings.”
“You’ve had all the time you’re going to get, Doctor. I’m not about to risk my ship just so you can get some more information, just before the thermal wave hits.”
“You’ll have plenty of time when the graviton wave hits,” said the scientist, putting hands to hips.
“Not according to my Exec,” said Huang, watching as the lights on the status board turned green, indicating that all hatches to the outside were closed, all crew aboard. “She thinks we’re going to be unable to go to and from hyper once that damned star blows.”
“And I think your Exec is an idiot,” growled the Astrophysicist.
“Since I don’t agree with your appraisal of Commander Harrison, I am going to jump my ship now.”
“You have orders from a
bove to cooperate with me,” said the Scientist with a scowl. “And I expect you to follow those orders.”
“With the clause that I am not to put my ship at risk,” said Huang, standing up from his raised chair and looking down at the smaller man. “Those orders were not a suicide pact.” The Captain sat back down and looked straight ahead to his Helmsman. “Jump her into hyper, Ensign.”
“Aye, sir,” said the Helm, pushing the panels on his board. “Jumping to hyper, now.”
The hyperdrive opened the hole in hyper I, and the light cruiser slid into the higher dimension. Huang felt the characteristic nausea from the translation, something he had grown used to, if not immune. Dr. Phillipson bent over, clutching at his stomach as he was wracked with much more severe illness. Then the ship was through and the space around them had turned the red of the alien dimension.
“Set a course for Klassek, fastest turnover at each hyper barrier.”
“Aye, sir.” The ship started to accelerate from near rest at five hundred gravities, on a course for the nearest star.
“I must protest, Captain,” said the pale faced scientist, trying to glare at Huang and failing, then staggering away.
“Protest all you want,” whispered the Captain, staring at the back of the scientist.
An hour later they were jumping to hyper II, an hour after that III.
“Are you happy, Captain?” asked Phillipson in a hacking voice. “We lost hours of readings, when the star would not blow for at least a day.”
“Doctor Phillipson,” said Huang, trying to keep his temper. “I...”
“We’re picking up severe graviton fluctuations,” called out the Sensor Officer. “I think its collapsing.”
Exodus: Machine War: Book 1: Supernova. Page 26
