"The coronal mass ejection will not reach this orbital distance for several days, and it will not be initiated until the activators reach the star in approximately fifty-two minutes," Ma explained.
"The SOB could get to the star and back dozens of times in fifty-two minutes. I'll just chase them down and blow them up!"
"Oh, please. Give me some credit," Karter objected on the radio.
"Karter? Did I give you a radio?" Lex asked.
"There was one strapped to the funk. Listen, you can't just 'chase them down.' They're running twilight drives. Why do you think they're taking so long to get to the star in the first place?"
"Uh... Okay, what's a twilight drive?" Lex said.
"Ma, when this is over, you'll have to explain to me why you thought that it was a good idea to track down the single most ignorant human being in the universe to lend a hand," Karter growled.
"I will explain," Ma stated. "Modern star ships are designed to operate within two standard speed classes: fractions of the speed of light and multiples of the speed of light."
"That much I know. The Carpinelli Field lets us skip the middle man."
"The twilight drive is a drive-system designed to jump to and maintain a near-light speed," Ma continued.
"But why would anyone want to do that? It's slower."
"And less efficient," Karter chimed in, "But the laws of physics behave differently at that speed, it makes sensors of all kinds more or less useless, and anyone attempting to intercept will outrun them or fall behind. It is a top notch way to run a medium-range, self-propelled weapon."
"And you're telling me I can't go that exact speed in my ship?"
"The SOB was not designed with sustained relativistic velocities in mind. The Carpinelli Effect is only completely stable at much higher speeds. The ship would be subjected to forces and effects that would make successful navigation practically impossible," Ma stated.
"For the past few days I've been traipsing across the cosmos trying to help a super-intelligent woodland creature to rescue a mad scientist. 'Practically impossible' is par for the course at this point," Lex said.
"It is an unacceptable risk with near-zero probability of success. Each of the six missiles is on a randomized course."
"Heh, probably not, actually," Karter interjected again. "They shot me in the back before I told them the procedure for setting the random seed, so those things are probably all taking the default route. I can plug the course into the SOB's nav computer."
"You're being unusually helpful, Karter," Lex said, suspiciously. "Could it be that you are actually trying to prevent this disaster?"
"I built your ship and I built the CME Activators. I'm curious to see which is better," he said. "Averted technological disaster is an unintended side effect, assuming the SOB wins."
"Processing... there is now a marginal chance for success, but negligible chance for survival," Ma said. "I am not comfortable asking you to risk your life."
"Ma, I'm a freelancer. Have been for over two years. I've made a career out of flight plans with a negligible chance for survival. Besides, we've been through this before. It's an imperative, remember. A personal rule."
"It is vital that one follow one's own rules," Ma agreed. "Very well. I will make changes to the sensors and firmware of your ship. Please go to the storage room indicated on your slidepad. There is a device designated the yo-yo coil that the station records indicate they have fabricated which should give you a reasonable capacity to exploit the vulnerability to blunt force that serves as the design weakness."
"I'm on it... Uh... What if I run into any lingering soldiers?"
"Stand by..." Ma said, continuing on the PA system and all radio frequencies. "Attention remaining Neo-Luddites. Your commander is no longer on this station. Her final order was to fight to your last breath. Ignoring this order and laying down your weapons until the authorities arrive or you are delivered to their custody is recommended. Alternately, if you are dedicated to following this order, I am pleased to inform you that I am now in control of station-wide environmental controls, and I will gladly schedule your final breath at your earliest convenience. For soldiers outfitted with environmental suits, please be advised that I have located the cybernetic entity known as Zerk on short-range sensors. If you are unaware of the capabilities of this entity, seek out a soldier who has faced it. If you have difficulty finding a soldier who has faced it, this is because it left very few survivors. This is, itself, an adequate indication of its capabilities. It is still active, and I will be able to re-introduce it to the station shortly. Thank you." Ma resumed her private connection to the others. "I am confident you will not encounter resistance."
"Boy am I glad you're on our side..." Lex remarked as he hurried away.
"Silo and Garotte. Due to the large amount of damage done to this deck, pressurizing this bay sufficiently to release you may take some time. Are you in immediate danger?" Ma asked.
"Oxygen and carbon-dioxide levels should be okay for a few hours, if the suit's scrubbers do their job," Garotte answered. "Not that you should dawdle."
"It's starting to get a might chilly in here," Silo added, "I think my suit's heater went out when I lost the helmet."
"Lucky that it's cozy then, eh?" Garotte remarked.
"I am currently attempting to identify a sequence of functional bulkheads that will allow atmospheric retention for this area."
"Much obliged," Garotte said.
#
Inside the dark and cramped interior of the case, Silo shifted uncomfortably as Garotte switched off his transmitter. Through a series of difficult and awkward contortions, he managed to fetch a chemical light from a pouch on the suit and activate it. What little space inside the case that was not occupied by a tangle of human anatomy was filled with a vague green glow. Now that there was light enough to see, Garotte and Silo simultaneously noticed that their faces were inches apart, their noses nearly touching. If the face shield of Garotte's helmet had not been raised and retracted, Silo's face would be squeezed against it. A sudden and failed attempt to give each other more space served only to reveal that there simply wasn't any more space to give. With a sigh, Garotte fought his arm up and wedged the light behind one of the brackets near the top of the case, just above their heads.
"There, that ought to be a bit more pleasant than the helmet lights," he said.
He looked down again to be greeted by a stern expression on Silo's face.
"Something wrong, my dear?"
"Oh, no. This is just dandy. Exactly how I wanted things to turn out. I'm so very happy that you never came up with a Plan B. Heck, it might have denied us this gosh darned moment of bliss."
"Silo, dear, you really ought to consider sprinkling a few profanities into your language. You'll find them therapeutic."
"Oh, I'm tempted, mister..." she growled. "You realize that this never would have happened if you'd just gotten Claymore out of jail instead of me."
"Locked in an ammo crate with Claymore? No thank you."
"Seriously, Garotte, why get me instead of him? The man plots and plans, that's his whole thing. He's just as good with small weapons, which is pretty much all we've been using. All things being equal, he's a better choice. Why choose me instead?"
"Your sparkling-"
"If you make some dumb quip about my looks or personality, you're coming out of this ammo case with a limp."
"... speaking voice?"
"Quit ducking the question. Do you have an answer or don't you?"
Garotte looked aside, eyes wandering slightly.
"Well?"
"... Claymore. Did I ever tell you how he and I started working together?"
"I think you've told me six times, and they were never the same."
"Well, here's a seventh, and it happens to be the truth."
"Oh, well that will be nice."
"There was a splinter state. The name doesn't matter, it only existed for about eight months. A group of Teekers
on some planet that was being particularly resistant to terraforming decided that all of the hard work they put into getting their settlement off the ground wasn't worth giving up. This was about... probably nine years ago. It was one of my first independent field missions. The problem was that they couldn't clear out the lingering radiation. It was low level, and the folks who'd been working there all their lives didn't seem to realize that trying to raise a family in a place like that was a pretty good way to have children with too many fingers and not enough kidneys. The TKUR government didn't want what was sure to be a diseased and withering populous on their hands, but the settlement was a fairly successful trading post with a bustling chemical industry and a very stubborn population. Basically, they brought me in to help make sure that things failed and the folks went packing before a generation of genetic freaks was born.
"I got paired up with an Orionian mercenary group that had been hired to do some sabotage. They'd work the infrastructure, I'd work the economy. Nothing deadly, just enough to tip the scales and scare people off. One of the members of the crew came up with some fairly innovative ideas to speed the collapse. All things considered, we ended up getting the job done in a few weeks, rather than the few months we'd assumed. The two of us decided that we complemented each other well, so he spun off from his group and we went into business for ourselves. A year or so passed, and it became clear that we had a gap in our skill set. We needed a demo expert."
"And that was me."
"Yes indeed. I finagled my way onto one of your missions as a liaison. Watched you for a bit, found what it would take to... liberate you."
"You did that... on purpose..." she rumbled.
"Yes. I manipulated you. It is what I do. I've had an awful lot of training and an awful lot of practice. I'm quite skilled. Then we started working together, and it became clear to me fairly quickly that you didn't belong with the rest of us. You did fine work, a consummate professional, but the rest of us were a bunch of malcontents. Misfits. I was black ops. Claymore went rogue. Karter is a sociopath. We all were heading for a sturdy prison or an early grave from the start. You never would have if not for me. I got you locked up."
Silo began to shake her head and opened her mouth to speak.
"Say what you want about you not having to go along and it being just as much your fault as mine because you gave into temptation, but we both know that I was always the one exposing you to that temptation. That's why it was you I sprung from prison instead of Claymore. Because you were the only one who didn't deserve to be there. I'd actually been trying to break myself out for some time. I couldn't stop thinking about you rotting away in that prison. It turns out, while I can pull just about anything off if you give me time to prepare, I'm more or less worthless without my contacts. Then Lex showed up with that furry little computer and I had my chance to get on the outside and get you out. I had to do it. It was my way of trying to make it up to you, or at least to say I'm sorry."
"... And now we're stuck in an equipment case in a crippled space station surrounded by renegade soldiers," Silo pointed out.
"I've never been very good at apologies," he said with a weak grin.
#
Now half a station away, Lex managed to find the so-called "yo-yo coil." It looked like a metallic bowling ball with a notch cut out around the center which had been filled with coiled wire. It was easily as heavy as the piece of sporting equipment it resembled, and didn't appear to have anything resembling controls or instructions associated.
"Okay, Ma, I've got the... thing. How, exactly is this supposed to help me?" Lex asked.
"I will explain on the way. Please utilize the highlighted route to access the nearest airlock. The SOB is waiting outside," the AI answered.
Lex set off, becoming increasingly aware of why you seldom see people doing any vigorous workouts in sealed space suits. They, by definition, do not breathe. At this point his clothes had the texture of a damp washcloth, and the chafing was getting bad enough that millions of lives hanging in the balance were just barely enough to distract him from it. The oxygen supply was handy, though.
"As previously established, the most effective way to deal with the CME Activators is low velocity blunt force to the heat shielding on the tip. The coil can be used to deliver it. It couples with tractor beams. In order to destroy the missiles, you will need to match velocity and use the coil as a flail," Ma explained.
"That doesn't sound too hard," Lex said, finding his way to the small, single occupant air lock that probably would have led to an escape pod if this station was being run by anyone who was interested enough in health and safety to make sure there was a full complement of them.
"Karter has entered the default route for the CME Activators into a console, and I have transferred it to your nav computer. Your Carpinelli field generator has been modified to permit near-light velocities. Activate navigational pre-set 113 when you successfully deactivate a missile and your ship will jump to the next," she further explained.
"Right."
"Please try to minimize maneuvering while at near-light speed. There will be extreme stresses on your ship which are greatly in excess of standard specification," Ma said. "And be aware that, if you do not succeed in destroying a CME Activator with your first attempt, automated defenses will trigger and fire randomly."
"Wait... so I can't move around too much, but things will be shooting at me?"
"Correct. Also, you will have approximately four minutes to disable all six CME Activators."
"Four minutes! You said it would be fifty minutes!"
"The modified Carpinelli field will not protect you from the effects of time dilation. At 99.5% of light speed, time will pass at approximately 10 times the speed for you, relative to external phenomena. Forty minutes for us will be four minutes for you."
"Man... I really hate the laws of physics sometimes..." Lex muttered as he exited to the station and maneuvered to the waiting SOB.
"They do complicate matters," Ma conceded. "I have attempted to modify your sensors to function at near-light speeds, but you will likely be required to target manually. Exposing even a few square centimeters of the tip of the warhead will be sufficient to prevent their proper activation. Do only what is necessary."
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Lex said. He climbed into the cockpit of his trusty ship and pressurized. Popping open his suit's helmet, he spat out the now flavorless gum from his previous flight and replaced it with three fresh sticks from the stash in the cockpit. He then targeted the tractor beam at the coil and grabbed on, giving a few practice swings to get a feel for it. "Okay... Let's do it."
The commands were punched into the computer and the SOB leaped into action. It began like a normal FTL jump. The view out the window flared up through blue and out of visibility, but almost instantly it ticked back down... most of the way. The sun was a gradually approaching, bright blue dot, and what little he could see of other stars seemed oddly distorted and on the blue side of the spectrum as well. He would have investigated this in more detail, but some of the other effects of this specific speed were considerably more distracting.
First of all, the inertial inhibitor seemed to be rather unhappy with him. It hadn't outright failed, or else he probably would have been reduced to a vague red tint on the ship's interior that would have been labeled "human remains?" by investigators. It certainly wasn't working correctly, though. There was an odd sort of pressure bearing down on him, like he was walking along the bottom of the ocean in a poorly designed pressure suit. It was also shoving him fairly forcefully into his seat, and seemed to amplify side to side motion. It was disorienting to the extreme, giving the overall feeling that his brain and internal organs were sloshing around when he moved. He genuinely hoped it merely felt like that, at least. His entire control panel was flashing with warnings and errors, and at least six audio alarms were fighting for his attention, but he tuned them out. As far as he was concerned, a star ship's warning system was the "bo
y who cried wolf" of the technology world.
He managed to wrestle his mind back onto the task at hand. Whether it was the way physics worked, or something Ma had done, the only thing in his field of view that seemed to be the right color and undistorted was the CMEA, though it was exceedingly difficult to make out. It looked to be about a hundred meters ahead, and its flat gray metal didn't exactly catch the light well, and the engine didn't appear to be active at all, beyond the occasional burst and stutter. Lex eased his own engines up a bit and nudged his ship aside. The maneuver was sluggish, and accompanied by a rumbling creak that gave him very little confidence regarding his ship's structural integrity.
"Tha-a-a-at's not a good noise," he said nervously.
While he did his best to pull up along side the missile with as few course corrections as possible, his mind, as minds tend to do, ran itself in circles trying to answer questions that were better left ignored. It dredged up facts and lessons from classes that he'd mostly slept through in college and tried to apply them to the current situation. He seemed to remember something about things moving at the speed of light being infinitely massive, and he knew that he was moving at 99.5% of the speed of light, so that meant he must weigh... 99.5% of infinity. While that would admittedly explain the ship's poor handling, it didn't make a whole lot of sense. Finally he was lined up with the missile, which despite claims of autonomy, didn't seem to know he was there. He tapped the controls for the tractor beam, pulling back the coil and then thrusting it forward. His aim was off, the coil glancing off of the missile just behind the black tiles. It wasn't enough to break any of them, but it was enough to get the weapon's attention.
Panels along the side popped open and fired vaguely forward, nowhere near Lex. After traveling a short distance forward, though, they suddenly dropped in speed, launching back toward ship and missile alike. In the case of the missile, they splashed weakly against its briefly activated shield. Lex expected them to do the same to his own shield, until he noticed about an eighth of a second before impact that one of those irritating warning lights was informing him of a complete defensive shield malfunction. He heaved the ship out of the way, prompting a chorus of creaks and one particularly unnerving ping. One shot grazed along the belly of the ship, but when no new warnings joined the argument the others were having, he went back to work. The ship was lined up for a second swing the instant the guns had retracted back into the device. This time the coil hit its target, easily cracking the protective tiles and sending them tumbling off in two neat halves to reveal a smooth, pointed metallic nose that wouldn't last two seconds once it got up close and personal to the star. By the time the guns had reappeared, Lex had tapped the command to leap to the next missile.
Unstable Prototypes Page 48
