Carlisle's newly minted Ph.D. was in Military History and for her dissertation topic she had specifically focused on the final battle of the Succession War. The wrecked ship that the quantum drive had been salvaged from was a veteran of that final battle and she wanted to find out if there was anything on the drive that would help her to understand more about the battle and more about the derelict itself. The Veritian derelict was a rare find, an Opposition ship from the Succession War, and only a few such ships had ever been studied in any detail.
But that wasn't all. In addition to the historical significance of the derelict, there were a number of other mysteries surrounding the battered ship. Who was on it and how did they escape from the battle? How had a ship that badly damaged been able to make the journey from the New Ceylon system to its final resting place on the tiny moon in the Heard's World system? The journey would have required several microjumps and at the very least a single macrojump but the damage to the wreck was so extensive that these operations should have been all but impossible.
She went to the engineering section of the Istanbul and sought out the help of the ship's chief engineer, Commander Isma'il Raghib. At least a half dozen workers were attending to their various engineering duties and everything within the section looked to be calm and orderly. One of the engineers politely showed Carlisle into the engineer's small office. Raghib was frowning at a schematic on his computer monitor as she came into the tiny compartment.
"Ensign Carlisle," said Raghib. He pushed his chair away from the display on the monitor before coming to his feet to shake her hand. "It is good to see that you are recovering from your injuries. We all owe you a huge debt for your part in turning back the attack."
Carlisle blushed. "I...I was only doing my duty."
"As you say," said Raghib. "I thank you anyway. What brings you down to engineering?"
Carlisle held up her prize. "This is an old quantum drive that I removed from the wreck of that Opposition cruiser when were went to Heard's World a couple of weeks ago. I need someone to help me power it up and access it, to see what sort of information it contains."
"Ah yes," replied Raghib, "For that we will need to go and see Heskim, he is our chief electronics and computer tech. I think you'll like him, he is very knowledgeable. I must warn you, Ensign, that he is...rather a little strange as well."
"A little strange?"
"Well, he is a computer tech..."
Carlisle nodded in understanding. Raghib led her forward through a bulkhead hatch and down a short corridor to another hatch. He indicated that she should go inside. She ducked to negotiate the opening and found herself in a narrow, low-ceilinged compartment. A work table ran the length of one entire wall.
At the table was a short man in a chair concentrating intently on an electrical component that he was holding in his lap and prodding at with a tool of some kind. With the Istanbul currently more or less parked and not expected to be performing any maneuvers, the technician could simply lay out his various projects without worry that something might shift around due to ship movements. The little shop appeared to have several projects that were being simultaneously worked on and a number of electronic components were heaped up on the long table. Exposed wires were sprouting from several of the objects, and the entire area generally looked disorganized and chaotic. Carlisle realized that on a ship of the size and complexity of the Istanbul, there were bound to be a number of computer and electronic systems that were going to require attention at any one time.
"Welcome to our electronics shop, Dr. Carlisle," said Raghib, as they entered the room. "Heskim, I have brought someone I'd like you to meet."
"Please put whatever you need repaired in that open space over there," said computer tech, barely even looking up. "I will get to it when I can."
Carlisle looked at the table but didn't see anything that looked like an "open space" to her.
"Where?" she asked.
Upon hearing the feminine voice, the little man finally tore his concentration away from his current task, scanned the work area and rather sheepishly said. "My apologies, I forgot that I put that translator module in the cleared area earlier this morning." He laid his forearm down on the workbench in front of him and carefully swept the remains of a couple of other obscure projects to the right, clearing a space large enough to hold the component he had been working on. Reaching down into his lap with both hands, he transferred his current project to the newly cleared space before standing up and facing his visitors.
"Heskim, this is Dr. Tamara Carlisle," said Raghib, "She has brought a computer drive that she needs you to take a look at."
"I am pleased to meet you, Dr. Carlisle," said Heskim as he shook her hand. "Please accept my apology. There is so much to do and I confess that I easily get absorbed in my work. Let me see what it is that you have brought for me."
Carlisle noted a few gray hairs and some facial wrinkles that hadn't been apparent at first glance and concluded that the little man was probably somewhat older than her first estimate had suggested he was.
Carlisle handed him the drive. "This is a quantum drive from an old ship's bridge computer," she said.
Heskim took the proffered drive and carefully turned it over several times. He whistled. "This is old...," he turned it over yet again, "...very old. I haven't seen one of these for more than ten years and this one looks to be a great deal older than that last one was!"
"You're absolutely right," said Carlisle, "the drive has to be well over sixty years old. I pulled it out of the bridge computer on a Succession War Opposition cruiser. The ship was badly damaged and then abandoned after it escaped the final battle of the Succession War."
"What would you like me to do with it?"
"Can you power it up and transfer the data on it to a more modern computer?" She pointed to her left wrist, "I have a Hartwell Wrist computer, could we transfer the data to it?"
"Possibly," replied the tech, "Much depends on what kind of condition the drive is in. This one doesn't appear to be too badly damaged but we won't know until we try to access it."
Heskim spent some time looking at the connections for the drive, "I might be able to do something. It could take some time, though. I'll have to rig some special leads to get power to it. Connections like these haven't been used for decades. I might have some adaptors in one of these drawers but more likely I'll have to fabricate something." He turned the device over in his hands yet another time. "How soon do you need this?"
"I don't know that it's terribly urgent except that I have a bit of free time over the next few days."
"Old computer gear of any kind of has always been of interest to me. I'll see what I can do right after I finish this translator module. Why don't you stop back later today?"
"That would be great," replied Carlisle, "I have some other things to do myself. Thanks, Heskim. It was nice meeting you."
"My pleasure, Dr. Carlisle, "Retrieving data from a drive this old could turn out to be a real challenge. Maybe we'll get lucky."
"I certainly hope so, Heskim," she replied, with a smile, "I'll check back with you later today."
Carlisle left the engineering section and went to check on her spacesuit.
When she got down to the compartment where the space suits were serviced she was relieved to find that her special suit had been carefully racked and appeared to be undamaged. She coerced one of the suit technicians into helping her put the suit on and perform a few routine tests to make sure that there were no leaks and that everything still worked.
The suit was a technological wonder, form-fitted and less than half as bulky as a standard Naval-issue spacesuit. It appeared to be made of a smooth, slightly textured fabric, almost like the skin of a primitive, Old Earth fish called a shark. Though the color of the suit's fabric could be altered to match any background, Carlisle usually left it on the default color setting which was a non-reflective, white matte finish. The helmet was also an advanced design and could be programed
to alter its color just like the rest of the suit. While she was still experimenting with the suit to make absolutely sure that everything was in working order, she received a text message from Commander Kresge on her wrist computer."
"Command staff meeting at 0930 in the big conference room on the Istanbul," It said. "Admiral Kingston will be presiding."
Carlisle couldn't suppress a frown as she extricated herself from the suit and carefully placed it back on the rack.
Chapter 8.
"...Some things will always belong to realm of the purely theoretical. Things like time travel or truly exceeding the speed of light. Another such impossible dream that many scientists have speculated about is the theory of a so-called 'hyperdrive damper field.' The concept is simple enough: generate a field that cancels out the resident gravity wave frequencies of a Whitney macrojump zone and you would effectively close the zone to a macrojump coming in from the zone that the damper field was tuned to...
...Imagine the usefulness of such a device! In war it could be used to keep enemies from accessing your star system. For trade purposes you could amass a fortune by only allowing goods to be transported through your system when you allowed them to! Fortunately for all of us, such fields exist only in the minds of mathematicians and those who work on the fringes of hyperdrive field theory. If someone ever learns how to produce such a field, which is certainly impossible, it would be a major game changer..."
Hartwell Wrist Comp reference note highlighted for further review by Tamara Carlisle. Excerpt is from "The Whitney Revolution: Engine of a New Destiny for Mankind" by Melvin Patterson.
UTFN Reclamation Center, on board Meridian Imperial Diplomatic Ship Istanbul, January 2, 2599.
Lieutenant Harris had saved himself an unnecessary trip back to the Istanbul by calling ahead to see if he needed to bring anything or anyone over to the Greyhound. He was told to remain on the Istanbul until the meeting with Admiral Kingston was concluded.
Commander Kresge, Harris, Ambassador Saladin, Sondia Saladin, F.C. Talbot and Lieutenant Lawrence Harvick were waiting in the designated meeting room onboard the Istanbul for the arrival of Admiral Kingston and her small entourage. Ensign Carlisle, somewhat fatigued already from the mild exertions associated with her activities of the morning, came in and immediately sat down gratefully in a chair. Kingston was due in the next few minutes and the Ensign, still trying to adjust to being upright after several days in the infirmary, was taking no chances at displaying any weakness.
The Istanbul's doctor had said that her recovery would take a little time. As tired as she was from the morning's light activities and the short walk from her quarters, Carlisle was reluctantly inclined to believe him.
The Admiral had been at the Reclamation Center for several days but, so far, she had not yet met with any of the command staff of the Scrapyard. Apparently today was the day that she had chosen to meet with them. Might as well get it over with, thought Carlisle. None of the Scrapyard defenders had any idea what to expect except Carlisle, who remembered, all too well, her single run-in with the crusty old woman.
Based on that experience, she feared the worst.
Lieutenant Shirleen Nesbitt, from the FNS Asimov, a young and very professional officer whom Carlisle had interacted with briefly on her journey from the Naval Academy on Old Earth to the Santana Nexus a few weeks ago, came into the meeting room and made an announcement.
"Admiral on deck!"
Immediately all of the Federation officers came to attention. Carlisle went over to stand next to Harris thinking she might be able to lean against the Lieutenant for support if she needed to. She pulled herself up straight as Admiral Kingston came rather gingerly into the room. The Admiral was using a makeshift cane fashioned from a short length of railing and appeared to be favoring her left leg. There were two marines in front of her and another two behind. Bringing up the rear was a short, young, slender male ensign who, at first glance, appeared to be of Old Earth Japanese descent. Carlisle was surprised to see a Spacer clan tattoo emblazoned across his left cheek. But that wasn't all, the young man also looked vaguely familiar to her. She filed that away and turned her attention back to the Admiral. Carlisle, having only seen Kingston while the older woman was seated behind her impressive desk back on the Santana Nexus Station, was surprised to see that the Admiral was actually a rather smallish woman, not a lot taller than Carlisle herself. The Admiral smartly returned the salute from the row of officers and said, "At ease."
Immediately the Federation officers went to parade rest.
"Lieutenant Harvick," the Admiral began, "as the Federation Naval liaison to the Meridian Ambassador, would you please perform some introductions?"
Harvick was a federation officer who was trained as a professional diplomat and had been Admiral Kingston's personal choice to be the Federation liaison to the Ambassador's mission. From the experience that the Junkyard Dogs had with him so far, he was a bit odd, but very good at his job. Slender and just a few centimeters shy of two meters tall, he appeared to be of Old Earth African descent, with ebony skin; a broad, flat nose and short, kinky hair. With his deep melodious voice and his precise and cultivated speech patterns, he would have made an excellent video announcer.
"Admiral Harriet Kingston, may I present the Meridian Ambassador to the Federation, His Excellency Mohammad Saad Saladin and his wife the Lady Sondia."
The Ambassador was tall, athletic and, as was his habit, immaculately dressed. He was also immaculately groomed with short, neatly-combed black hair and a stylish pencil-thin mustache. His wife, standing next to him, was a woman of exotic and exceptional beauty. Her sleek shoulder-length black hair was classically styled, with the ends curved slightly inward and bangs straight-cut across her forehead. Her hair framed the perfect, light-olive skin of her oval face. The Ambassador and his wife both appeared to be of Old Earth Middle East origin.
The dignitaries performed the necessary rituals, including the slight bow required by Meridian custom.
"I would also like to present Commander Oskar Kresge, Dr. F.C. Talbot and Lieutenant Ryan Harris." Harvick paused for a second when he got to Carlisle. "I believe that Dr. Ensign Tamara Carlisle and you have already met." The Admiral gave Carlisle a dismissive nod and Harvick continued with the introductions. "Accompanying Admiral Kingston are Lieutenant Shirleen Nesbitt, acting Captain of the Asimov and her acting tactical officer, Ensign Massa Sukamoto."
Carlisle remembered meeting Lieutenant Nesbitt on her trip out from Earth to the Santana Nexus and, upon hearing the name of the young ensign, she suddenly remembered him as well. She had seen him in Admiral Loftgren's office back at the Academy while she was waiting for her new orders just over two months ago. He had been one of the fresh Academy graduates -- one of the honor students -- that Admiral Loftgren had requested an exit interview with. Carlisle had been forced to wait while Sukamoto and several others among the top students of the graduating class were being processed out of the Academy before going on to their first assignments. She hadn't seen his Clan tattoo because she had only seen him briefly and then had only seen the right side of his face. "Acting Tactical Officer?" she thought, "This soon after graduating from the Academy? There must be a hell of a story there!"
The Admiral nodded to the Federation personnel and gave Carlisle another perfunctory glance. She looked around the room and said: "Somebody get me a chair."
One of the Marines scooped up the same chair that Carlisle had collapsed into a few minutes earlier and brought it across the room before helping the obviously injured Admiral sit down in it.
"I was wounded in the altercation at the Nexus," explained the Admiral, "It's not too serious, they tell me, but it sure as hell is inconvenient!" She stirred slightly in the chair, to get a little more comfortable and then scanned the faces of the assembled personnel. "I have some information that I received just this morning that I must share with all of you but first I think we'd better bring each other up to date on the current situation." Sh
e turned her attention to the Ambassador. "What's been happening out here in the Reclamation Center, Mr. Ambassador?" she asked.
The Ambassador pondered for a moment before speaking. "We have survived some very earnest attempts to kill or capture us by some very determined people, Admiral Kingston. Things are complicated considerably by the fact that I currently have almost three dozen dignitaries from the governments of twelve Santana Quadrant planets on board my ship. As you probably already know, we had to leave the Nexus station in a rather...unconventional manner, and several of them continue to insist that they have been kidnapped. The last several weeks have been...difficult."
"We copied your 'unconventional' exit from the station," said the Admiral, "That tactic saved us from certain capture or destruction. Whose idea was that anyway? It was brilliant!"
Lieutenant Harvick looked at Carlisle.
"It was Ensign Carlisle who came up with the idea," said Harvick.
The Admiral gave Carlisle a disbelieving glare.
"I see..." was all the Admiral could say.
Behind the Admiral, where the old woman couldn't see him, young Ensign Sukamoto nodded his head slightly as though he were not surprised by the revelation.
"If I may be so bold, how has your group fared and what was the cause of your injuries, Admiral?" asked the Ambassador.
"I got banged up when the cutter we were escaping from the Nexus on jinked to avoid a pulse beam strike. That violent maneuver at over five gees was just too much for this old knee too handle. We managed to get onboard the Asimov just as we saw the Istanbul microjump out of danger. As luck would have it, the crews of the Asimov and the Xerxes had performed several joint maneuvers during the last six months and a number of them had become good friends. Out of concern for them, Captain Nesbitt offered our assistance. We managed to keep a couple of enemy destroyers at bay while we programed the microjump and instructed the Xerxes do the same. After that we covered for them again at the hyperlink zone while they macrojumped out of the system. We had a brief standoff with the destroyer that the enemy left guarding the jump point but she was no match for the Asimov. By mutual agreement, we jumped both ships to the Dalmation system. That one macrojump was all the Xerxes could manage with all the damage she'd suffered. It took us almost two weeks to cobble her back together enough so she could jump again. Meanwhile we heard about the stronghold out here in New Ceylon and we came here as soon as we could. The Xerxes won't be jumping again without some major attention. We were lucky to get her and her crew out of the Santana system at all."
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