Ariticle Six

by C. T. Christensen

  She was looking at the control console, “Admiral, are you there?”

  A familiar and shaky voice came from the vicinity of the floor to her right, “I . . . well . . . I think I am. If this is . . . Valhalla, it’s a lot like the last place I worked.”

  Right then, the alarm blared.

  “FIRE IN ACCUMULATOR STACKS 8, 9, 10…RESET-FIRE IN ALL ACCUMULATOR STACKS - ALL FIRE SUPPRESSION SYSTEMS ACTIVATED.”

  “WARNING - ALL REACTORS OPERATING AT 114 PERCENT OF DESIGN LIMITS.”

  “WARNING - CURRENT REACTOR WASTE HEAT PRODUCTION WILL EXCEED THERMAL SINK CAPACITY IN 6.3 HOURS.”

  Confusion froze everyone’s minds; none of them had ever heard those messages or anything like them. CeCe did what seemed to be the smartest thing and focused her, still fuzzy, thought process on the most obviously immediate problem, “HELT, THE FIRES…GET THE FIRES OUT.”

  Helt was still blinking and rubbing his face, trying to grasp the information in front of him. Finally, he smashed a hand down on a remote part of his board; the alarm stopped.

  “I CAN’T THINK WITH THAT THING GOING.”

  He still had his hands pressed to the sides of his face like he was trying to squeeze his brain back into operation. As with all professionals, it was training and experience that came back first, “Ah . . . all accumulator stack tanks show sealed and flooded with nitrogen.” He started rapidly tapping at his panel and looking at the screens around him, “I . . . ah . . . I have no response from any of the stacks - AI, say accumulator status.”

  “ALL ACCUMULATOR STACKS ARE OFFLINE.”

  He tapped another inquiry and checked another screen, “The isolator drive is operating, but if we shut it down we’ll never get it started again without those accumulators.”

  Wills had crawled back into his chair again. He looked back toward the observer seating area and saw Stoker pressing some sort of cloth to Victoria Treelam’s head; there was a fair amount of blood on it. He touched a com panel, “Medical personnel to the bridge for a head injury.”

  He turned back toward her, “Hang in there Victoria; medical attention is on the way.”

  She opened one eye at him, “Don’t worry, I will live, Admiral; I may not enjoy it, but I will live.”

  He smiled back at her, “Is everyone else okay?”

  The general response was in the affirmative; they were shaken but uninjured.

  Satisfied, he turned back to CeCe and Helt, rubbing his own face, “Someone tell me why we’re pulling so much power from the reactors; we could have turned all of Temple Bay into superheated steam by now.”

  CeCe had been back-checking Helt. Her readings showed that the isolator drive was operating correctly and smoothly even if it was pulling every spare watt the massive reactors could provide. It had never been determined just how much power an isolator drive could absorb; the math was fuzzy at best. The only real known cause for power consumption variations was based on the size and shape of the ship--the smoother, the less--the bigger, the more.

  She, carefully and slowly, eyed her instruments. The resonator display showed them headed outward from the Forest system. She swept her eyes around the circle of screens; those that had been showing an external view now showed the blackness of isolator space.

  Her eyes came back to the resonator display; she entered a display data command, “That’s . . . odd.”

  Wills and Helt were on edge enough without hearing that, “What?” was spoken in unison.

  “We were on the sunward side of Forest. The combined planetary rotation and orbital motion should have given us a combined vector slightly more in the direction of the Forest primary. That does not seem to be the case.”

  She scanned the black screens one more time. Was that . . . ?

  “AI, say mass of this ship.”

  “SHIP’S MASS IS 5.6452X10 to the 24th KILOGRAMS”

  Helt froze, Wills swallowed--hard, “That’s . . . a planetary level mass.”

  CeCe smiled broadly, “Yes, sir; I would wager that it is the exact mass of Forest. AI, turn on north side external lighting.”

  Normally, the activation of external lighting while in isolator drive was a waste of power; you couldn’t tell they were on. In this case, the brilliant glare illuminated the ground beneath the Weasel, the ground between the Weasel and the game field, the game field with its mass of terrified locals, and a little of the town where CeCe had seen a small, improbable light.

  The rest of the group pressed up behind the command chairs, incredulous expressions crossing their faces as they gawked at the view of an outside world.

  Stoker whispered, “Well, there goes something else that I knew was impossible.”

  Wills was reclined in his chair tapping a finger on the console, “That is a word that I will never use again.”

  CeCe looked up at the screen to engineering, “Captain Helt.”

  “Yes, Captain”

  “Can the reactors maintain their current output? I don’t think I need to offer speculation on the culinary state of our goose if we should lose the isolator drive anytime soon.”

  Helt nodded, “The Berlin Reactors can take this and more. But I will shift some of the load off the old Weasel reactors.” He began tapping on his console, “I’ll feel better if they were kept down to 110 percent. I’ll also reduce power consumption inside the ship, open the heat sink vents, and take any needed internal heating from them. Oh, and I’ll get those two primary reactor cooling systems back online.”

  He stopped tapping and looked up at CeCe, “I can stabilize it. What are you going to do with it?”

  #

  Two hours later, internal power consumption had been reduced and the reactor load evaluated and stabilized to sustainable levels. Helt had people repairing the damaged primary cooling systems on the two reactors, and Doctor Treelam had her scalp laceration reduced and covered with a small bio-gel pack. The worst injuries throughout the ship were a dozen broken bones, and a variety of cuts and sprains.

  Wills stood with Ames, Twisst, and Susan as the loading ramp lowered to the ground in front of them. Helt and an engineering team hurried down the ramp ahead of them to check external damage.

  Wills reached the ground and turned toward the game field. He was surprised by the size of the crowd and noticed that they had come closer but had stopped as they reached the overhang of the ship as though the ground beneath was untouchable. Wills had the odd thought that they had come to the lights of the Weasel to get some relief from the sudden shock of the absolute darkness of the isolator environment.

  Ames looked around and took a deep breath, “I appreciate the fact that the Silverman saw fit to bring the atmosphere with. Those isolator theorists I know are going to have a total orgasm over this one.”

  While the engineering people ran checks on the floaters, the three of them made the two hundred meter walk to the edge of the crowd. Fires and torches were appearing around the game field and throughout the mass of locals. Wills had thought about getting a needler out of the weapons locker but had settled for posting Kraigor and Bonn at the foot of the loading ramp with stun grenade launchers in case a hasty retreat from the tense locals became necessary.

  They stopped about ten meters from the Foresters where Joe and a group of town leaders stood. Joe had never given Hayes or Wills the impression that he adapted well and quickly to sudden changes in his life; the look on his face at this moment did nothing to change that impression. Wills waved him forward and made sure Susan was standing next to him. If he had to bet, he figured that she would understand what he was about to say much better than Joe would.

  Susan had been looking at the strangely dark world that used to be her home as they walked to the waiting crowd. Surprisingly--or not--she asked the first question, “Have you destroyed our sun”

  Wills looked down at the small sky watcher and slowly shook his head, “No, your sun is still there. What has happened is that we have left it far behind us; we, our ship and your entire planet
, are now headed into space far from your sun.”

  “We would not go with you - you have killed us ” said Joe.

  Okay, Wills had a hunch this was not going to go well. His voice took on a command edge, “No, what happened was an accident that was far beyond our knowledge. We had no idea that this was possible. The situation now is very dangerous for all of us; we will either all live together or we will all die together.”

  He turned and pointed a finger into Susan’s face, “Listen very carefully to me because I trust you more than Joe to get this right. We are working on a plan that might save us all. You must get word to all of your people and tell them to harvest all of their crops that they can; there will no longer be a sun and all plants will die. They must be prepared to live in the dark for about five months until we reach a place where we can move back into normal space. Until then, all of your people must do what they can to stay alive. Do you understand me?”

  Susan stared at Wills’ com pad as it interpreted his words; then she looked up at him, “We go to another sun ”

  That question surprised Wills; Susan was leaping ahead.

  “It will not be a sun that your planet will orbit; it will be a place where all of your people will be rescued and removed from this world. Until then, your people must survive.”

  Wills felt compelled to make as strong an impression as possible; he put a hand on each of their shoulders, pulled them even closer, and spoke in a harsh voice that he hoped the translator would pass along, “It does not matter what you feel is the right thing to do. You no longer have a choice in anything except to do as I say or die. If you do what I say, you have a good chance to live. If you refuse to do as I tell you, you die. Your sun is gone forever and all plant life will now die. Harvest all the crops that you can so that you have food for the next five months. If you do not do this . . . you . . . will . . . die. Do you understand me?”

  He, finally, got a frightened “yes” from both of them and backed away, “We will report any progress in our plan.”

  They turned and started back to the ship. Wills looked out toward the ocean; even through the glow of the lights, the absolute blackness was disturbing. He noticed the frantic way his eyes moved in their search for something, anything.

  “It’s like some surrealistic nightmare. Do we have a psychiatrist aboard the Weasel?”

  Ames and Twisst were on either side of him and both looked up at him, “I…don’t know.” said Twisst, “I will check with Roland; he has been on the ship and should be acquainted with the passengers.”

  #

  Wills entered the medical section and was surprised to find a high level of activity. All of the injuries had gathered here and the lack of obvious damage to the ship had pushed this part of the fallout of recent events out of his mind. He found Captain Edward Banko, the chief medical officer, helping one of his med-techs make final adjustments to the cast on the arm of a young Forester girl.

  “How are things going, Ed?”

  Banko gave a quick look over his shoulder, “Hey, Admiral; so far nothing we can’t handle. Forester physiology is close enough to ours that our radiative and induced therapies seem to be working just fine. Luckily, there has been no real need for drugs, and I’ve ordered that none be given.”

  He approved the setting and straightened up, “So, what can I do for you, Admiral?”

  “I’m looking for Doctor Bernard Jordan.”

  Banko was almost as tall as Wills, but he still had to stretch upward to look over people toward the back of the room, “Ah…back office; he’s checking our data entries for these patients.”

  Wills turned in that direction, “Thanks, see you later.”

  He found the thin, balding man examining an entry on a screen, “Doctor Jordan?”

  The interruption startled him, “Huh, what? Oh . . . Admiral Reynolds!”

  He rose from his seat and pointed to another chair at the side of the desk, “Have a seat. What brings you down here?”

  Wills took the offered seat, “Doctor, I understand that you are a psychiatrist!”

  Jordan leaned closer and smiled in a soft professional way that made Wills think that Jordan was looking at a patient, “Why, yes, Admiral; in fact, my wife, Katrin, and I are both psychiatrists. She is helping in the kitchen; she likes to cook. Is there some problem you would like to discuss? You can close the door if you wish; or we can find a quieter room.”

  “Ah…no, it’s not that; at least not yet. Doctor, I was just outside the ship talking to the local leaders and I had the opportunity to look into the blackness that is the inside of an isolator drive field. It was…disturbing. It made me remember that there are many environments throughout human controlled space, and even on the Earth, where normal day-night cycles are not available. We all are now trapped on a planet that will not see any external illumination of any kind for several months. I would like you and your wife, if you are willing, to formulate means of combating the negative effects of this situation. This would apply to all of Forest; I think the locals are going to have more of a problem with this than we here in the ship will.”

  Jordan leaned back and started rubbing his chin, “Yes . . . seasonal affective disorder, circadian rhythm disruption, depression; we were on the Gregory Falls, and I remember that we had to make an effort to adjust to the ship’s rhythm. Because of that, we have had no problem here on the Weasel.”

  He looked back at Wills, “I have not been outside since we went into isolator drive; is it really that bad?”

  “Doctor, have you ever been at the bottom of a deep mine or cave and turned the lights out?”

  Jordan’s eyes narrowed, “Yes, twice; it is that bad?”

  “Identical, except that it’s planet-wide.”

  Jordan started rubbing his chin again, “Two things spring to mind, light therapy, and routine. Of the two, strict adherence to a daily routine of as great an involvement as possible in order to keep the mind occupied should be our best tool in this situation. A technical enhancement to that would be the daily use of light therapy. Of course, the main beneficiaries of that would be the people that spend a great deal of time outside of this ship. I will have to consult with Doctor Banko and get an assessment of Forester optic response, but I doubt there will be a problem there. Would it be possible to build lighting devices for the Foresters with specific spectral output?”

  Wills held up his hand and stood up, “Don’t ask me; talk to Captain Helt in Engineering. Doctor, you, and your wife are now in charge of keeping us all sane. Do what you have to and good luck.”

  ##

  Wills stepped out of the elevator on the dimmed crew deck at the same time as Helt was leaving his quarters, “Ellias, perfect timing. Before we go to the meeting, there is something I need.”

  “What’s that, Admiral?”

  Wills got a small smile on his face and pointed at Helt’s collar, “Do you have an extra bar?”

  The questioning look on Helt’s face changed to a grin, and he reopened his door, “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  #

  Wills and Helt entered the crowded dining hall and worked their way to their seats at the front table. The seating arrangement had been changed to surround the holographic projector stage that now occupied the center of the room. As with other meetings of general interest, the rest of the crew, and a lot of Foresters that remained on the Weasel, watched the meeting in other dining halls or duty stations. All of the floaters now sat in the centers of towns with screens pulled from the Weasel set up to show this meeting to as many Foresters as they could reach. CeCe acknowledged the Admiral’s presence and moved to the center of the room.

  The background noise quieted and CeCe started to speak, “Five days ago-”

  “Excuse me!”

  A startled CeCe turned to face Wills, who has rounding the side of the table to approach her, “Sir?”

  “There is one piece of business that needs to be taken care
of before we go any further. Stand at attention Commander.”

  CeCe came to a really confused attention, “Sir?”

  Wills reached a couple of fingers behind the left collar of her uniform and pressed a fourth small silver bar in place next to the three that were already there.

  “Cicely Copeland, five days ago you became the commanding officer of the biggest ship in human history; you should have the rank to go with it. So, effective from the moment you activated the isolator drive on the Weasel-Forest, you are promoted to the rank of Captain.”

  Wills stepped back and saluted.

  CeCe managed to return the salute as the applause from the crew members in the dining hall started. What had happened had to be explained to a small degree to watching Foresters, but they, largely, understood it.

  CeCe lifted her left hand to her collar and felt the four bars while Wills smiled and shook her hand, “Captain, I believe you have a report to give, so stop fooling around.”

  CeCe bowed her head at the applause and reorganized her scattered thoughts, “Five days ago, while attempting to lift the Weasel off the surface of Forest, an unforeseen event destroyed the lift ring. Because of the lack of time caused by an approaching radiation wave, I proposed and initiated an act of near suicidal desperation.

  “When humanity first developed the drive that we now use to travel across the great distances between the stars, its first test took place on the surface of our home planet. That test caused great destruction and many deaths. Since then, we have never activated that drive system near a planet. After the disaster of that first test, many investigations and much research tried to determine what happened. In the end, we could never say exactly what did happen.

  “Five days ago, I did what they did on that first test; I activated an isolator field generator on the surface of a planet in a desperate gamble that our greater power, control, and generally better systems would . . . .”