“So in a year, it will be where it was before? Relative to the Sun and the Gliese system?”
“That is correct, yes.”
“So if we don’t make it, we can return in a year’s time?”
There were murmurings in the room in response to this.
“No, stop. I didn’t sign up for that!” said the anthropologist vehemently. “According to the confirmed official plan, we are to return at the appointed time. Not a month later, let alone a year!”
The captain shook his head.
“Calm down. That option is not on the agenda. Making the jump in a year’s time is no more than a fallback plan. If unforeseen circumstances cause us to be too late in reaching the evacuation point, it will be the only thing we can do.”
“But why, may I ask?”
“Because it involves great risk. This is connected with the position of the nearest stars. Steve, perhaps you...?”
Steve got up from his chair and went to the center of the room.
“It’s all quite simple. Our galaxy, the Milky Way, is not a monolithic formation, it’s something like a whirlpool of star clusters, cosmic dust and gas. It is constantly in motion, rotating around its own axis, but its individual segments also move relative to each other. Therefore the position of other stars relative to the Sun is not constant, but changing.
“For example, the Sun is moving towards the constellation of Hercules, carrying with it all the planets and other objects of the Solar System, at a rate of four AU per annum. At present, the closest star to the Sun is Alpha Centauri, but many thousands of years hence, it will be the red dwarf called Ross 248.
“Though the stars are relatively remote, they have tremendous mass and are able to exert influence even at interstellar distances. The team controlling the gravity wave generator has every reason to fear that the stars of the closest star neighborhood will distort the results of the calculations. To return when the field characteristics are so distorted is dangerous. Instead of arriving in the Solar System, we might find ourselves in another part of the galaxy, or plunging into the heart of some planet or star.”
The captain nodded his thanks to Steve and passed the floor to the SSS commander.
“As we know from observations of the planet, its atmosphere is opaque. This could be ordinary water vapor, or some aerosol of artificial origin. We must assume that communication with the main group of ships left in orbit will be difficult...” – the commander paused – “...if not impossible. Down below, the planet may be plunged in darkness. Light from the Gliesians’ star may not reach the surface.
“The further down into the atmosphere you go, the higher the pressure and density rise. This means that on the surface, we could find the aerosol incomparably more concentrated than in the upper layers. This could seriously limit the useful radius of our lamps or night vision instruments. The same applies to radio communications.
“This is a bad sign on two counts. We have to assume that the inhabitants of the planet have some means of communication that gets around the screening effect of the dense atmosphere, giving them another advantage. From a tactical point of view, the conditions of the mission are very difficult.
“And finally, gravity. According to the latest estimates, the planet’s mass is five times that of Earth. As chance would have it, its average density is much lower than Earth’s, so the planet has a large radius. That compensates a little for the gravity. Nevertheless, on the surface of the planet, we will be subject to higher gravity. On 581-c, it is more than 2g. It is only possible to work in full equipment in such conditions inside an exoskeleton.
“If our fears about the opacity of the atmosphere affecting radio waves are confirmed, communication will be by relay stations on high-altitude probes connected to the APCs below by cable. Immediately after landing, we will launch the probes, which should reach a sufficient altitude to provide reliable communication with the ships in orbit.
“Strong winds blow in the upper layers of the atmosphere. They may have an abrasive effect on the surface plating of the probes and on the cables. We must assume that the probes will have a life of only a few hours. This further limits our time window for being on the surface of 581-c.”
The captain took the floor again.
“If the atmosphere really is opaque, we will still be able to see how the mission is proceeding with the aid of the probes. If a serious conflict occurs, you can rely on our weapons. We will deploy the ships of our group so that fire support can be provided in less than a minute. If necessary, we will strike directly from orbit and have the capability to reduce the planet to ashes.
“It will not be an easy mission, but those who will be on it should know that we won’t let our people down.”
# # #
END OF EPISODE TWO
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An excerpt from “BEYOND THE EVENT HORIZON”:
By the evening of the day of departure, the weather was already beginning to deteriorate. When Steve left the house and got into a taxi, the sky was shrouded in a light mist, changing its colour from dark blue to milky. When he reached the spaceport an hour later, bundled his things together and walked towards the terminal entrance, there were sparse rai
n clouds overhead.
All those taking part in the expedition were sitting in their seats in a small private conference hall. As he entered, Steve saw dozens of faces turn towards the sound of the door opening. Since working on the ‘Dawn’ project, he had got more used to such situations and had become more relaxed about facing people he didn’t know. Dozens of pairs of unfamiliar eyes directed towards him no longer brought on wobbly knees and a dry mouth as they had done before.
Also, he had now taken his finals. As soon as Shelby had finished checking and marking his work, Steve would no longer be a student, but a fully-fledged adult. An astrophysics specialist. Since the assessment was no more than a formality, it was time to conduct himself accordingly and not look up to his more senior colleagues from below, but consider them his equals.
Steve nodded to them in greeting and looked round for an empty seat. He started by looking along the back rows, but after thinking about it for a second, looked further forward, closer to the podium. The closer to the speaker, the easier it was to take in what was said. Steve knew this from his experience of lectures at university.
Under the gaze of those present, he stepped forward and sat in the front row. It was better that way. He looked to either side. On his right was a gloomy-looking elderly man working away on his tablet. When Steve had approached the seat next to him, he hadn’t even given him a glance, but just took his coat off the seat irritably. To his left, a little further away, was a group of people, clearly scientists, who obviously already knew each other. They were quietly discussing something. Clive was sitting a little further along the same row. They looked at each other, and Steve acknowledged him with a brief nod.
A voice suddenly rang out from the stage. “Greetings, team!”
Everyone stopped talking and turned their heads to the front. Once satisfied that he had the attention of his audience, the speaker continued.
“Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Kimble, and I have the honour of being the captain of our expedition ship.”
Compared to the others, Steve, as a former participant in the ‘Dawn’ project, knew more about the expedition, so he already knew the captain’s name. But this was the first time he had seen him in the flesh. The captain’s appearance radiated the confidence typical of all ships’ captains.
“Our route takes us beyond the limits of assimilated space,” continued Kimble in a confident voice. “This makes our expedition the first of its kind, taking us far beyond the orbits of the planets.”
The captain switched on the screen behind him to show images of the Solar System.
“If you look from the Earth’s viewpoint, our target is roughly in the direction of Mars, but at an angle to the plane of the ecliptic. This will mean that after only a few days of travel, we shall be far away from our entire space transport infrastructure, and should unforeseen circumstances arise, we will have no-one to rely on but ourselves.
“I am not saying this to arouse fear. But each member of the team must realise that the expedition has to be taken seriously; we can’t expect help from anyone. And now please proceed to the exit. We will be taking off immediately, and the shuttle is already waiting for us. I’ll tell you the rest of the details on board the ship.”
Steve, who had just made himself comfortable in expectation of a long and detailed explanation, looked surprised as he had to stand up and make his way to the exit with the others. That was probably the shortest briefing he had ever attended. It was clear that the captain was no lover of long speeches.
On his way out, Steve slowed down. When Clive caught up with him, he again nodded in greeting.
“Well, how did you find the briefing?”
Clive looked discontented.
“I don’t understand why we had to assemble in the hall. We all know where we’re going anyway.”
“Perhaps just so that everyone knows who their captain is.”
“It’s all the same to me,” said Clive in a loud voice, not in the least concerned that the captain himself might hear him.
Steve just smiled. Clive was being his usual self. Previously, Clive’s awkward socialising skills used to irritate him, but he found them rather amusing now. Perhaps Steve was beginning to grow up...
Outside, the weather had finally broken. The spaceport field greeted them with pouring rain, lightning and deafening thunder. A strong wind blew cold spray into their faces, and although the bus was waiting for them under a small shelter, giving some protection to the face, it meant their feet got wet through almost instantly.
The bus closed its doors with a hissing noise and set off immediately. The sound of its powerful electric motor was barely audible against the noise of the rain beating down on the roof. With every gust of wind, water lashed against the windows as if someone was amusing himself by spraying the bus with a hose, its valve fully open.
It was clearly not flying weather, and Steve looked around him in alarm. The dense rain prevented him seeing very far, but as far as he could make out, there was no other movement in the spaceport. The bus, rocked by the strong wind, passed long rows of parked tankers, their lights off.
Fifteen or twenty minutes later, the bus left the field in front of the terminal and was now passing between launch pads. They were weakly illuminated, and it seemed that most flights had been cancelled. Those ships that had not managed to land before the onset of the bad weather were awaiting the end of the storm in orbit. Nor were any launches taking place.
The wind was so strong that even the space elevator was not running. As they passed, its cables stretching up into the sky were barely visible in the glare of the floodlights. They were rocking considerably, despite being thick and under strong tension.
Steve got up from his seat to talk to the captain. The bus was going at quite a speed, so it wasn’t easy to keep his balance. He staggered up to the front where Kimble was sitting, busy with his tablet.
“Sir, why are we in such a hurry? I thought lift-off was scheduled for five in the morning,” said Steve, raising his voice to make himself heard over the sound of the wind and rain outside. Gusts of cold air were blowing into the bus through a slightly-open hatch in the ceiling. The larger drops were trapped by filters, but fine spray still found its way in. Jets of wet air were beating right into the captain’s face, but he seemed to be enjoying it.
“The plans have changed. I’ll explain everything on board the ship,” he answered curtly, making it known by his manner that he had no desire to discuss the subject with every member of the team individually.
Steve said nothing, but looked out through the windscreen. Nothing could be seen apart from the cat’s eyes in the asphalt.
“But won’t it be difficult to take off in this weather?” he asked.
“I’ve taken off in worse weather than this. It will rock a bit at first, but nothing to worry about,” said Kimble to allay his fears.
“Taken off? I thought you were the captain of a large cargo ship,” said Steve, rather surprised.
Large cargo ships, as a rule, transported ore from the asteroids and were so big that they never landed on the surface of a planet. They unloaded in orbit.
“Even I was young once, Steve,” said the captain, smiling.
“Forgive me, sir, but non-flying weather has always been non-flying weather.”
“So it has, but no-one ever told us about it in the SSS,” replied Kimble as if to himself, looking at the screen of his tablet. Glancing back at Steve, he said, “Everything will be OK.”
The trip had already lasted at least half an hour and they had still not reached their launch pad. Steve had not realised that the spaceport was so huge. The glare of powerful floodlights was soon visible in the distance. It seemed they had finally reached the shuttle that was to deliver the team to their ship awaiting them in low orbit.
The bus slowed down gradually, and the light became brighter and brighter then suddenly disappeared, leaving a few floodlights illuminating a launch pad with a squat shuttle
mounted on it.
Steve discovered to his surprise that what awaited them was not a civil ship but a military one. Quite small, squat, streamlined, predator-like – it had already opened the entrance under its belly, from which a red light was emanating. The powerful engine nozzles suspended above it looked significantly larger than those of civilian ships of the same size.
The bus drove as close to the shuttle as it could, then finally stopped. Steve was sitting next to the door, so was the first to leave the passenger cabin and come under direct bombardment from the cold rain. The water didn’t just fall from above, it beat into his face from all sides, even from below, bouncing up under his untucked shirt and running in a cold stream down his stomach.
Steve ran for the shuttle as fast as he could. You might think that the faster you run, the less wet you get, but in such rain, it makes no difference. His clothes were soaked through the second he left the bus.
The interior of the shuttle was quite spartan. Everything was functional, with no concern for either convenience or comfort. Steve hadn’t expected anything else. The wide entrance led into something like a cargo hold, which, unlike civilian shuttles, had two rows of seats for spaceborne troops, their backs to the walls. Further on there were illuminated racks for weapons, which now stood empty. Further on still, the compartment narrowed, ending in a door to the cockpit. Unlike the space for passengers, the cockpit had narrow windows, their lower edges roughly at shoulder level. All the lighting above was red, but looking down, there were a vast number of lights of every possible colour. The two pilots were already strapped into their seats, chatting to each other.
One of them, hearing Steve’s footsteps, turned round and took a quick glance at him. Steve, who was looking round the interior of the cockpit with interest, met his eyes. He nodded in greeting, but the pilot simply turned back, ignoring the gesture. Oh well, armies have their own ways of doing things. Not so much formal courtesy, but, on the other hand, more respect when things got serious.
Fundamental Force Episode Two Page 8
