Frontiers 07 - The Expanse

by Ryk Brown

“Genetically modified, huh?”

  “Only to grow better in the soil of Ancot. They are high in protein and are quite nutritious.” The chief of the boat noticed the concern on the executive officer’s face. “They have been consumed for several hundred years, Commander. I have never heard of any health issues due to the consumption of cantor beans, except possibly from eating too many of them,” he added, blowing up his cheeks and sticking out his belly to simulate weight gain. Cameron’s expression did not change. “Cantor beans have been a popular staple throughout the Pentaurus cluster since before I was born. The people of Ancot eat them on a daily basis, and they are some of the healthiest people in the cluster. Do you not have genetically modified crops on Earth?”

  “We did,” Cameron answered as she looked at the row of bean containers stacked four crates high along the wall of the cargo hold. “They were quite common before the plague. According to history discovered in the Data Ark, there were some problems associated with genetically modified crops in the late twenty-first century due to lack of government oversight of the industry. The problems were corrected, but the industry was never the same, at least not until faster-than-light travel was invented. Once humans started colonizing other Earth-like worlds, the practice increased in order to accommodate differences in environmental conditions.”

  “Just as they did on Ancot,” the master chief pointed out.

  “Yes. However, that knowledge was lost along with everything else when the bio-digital plague swept across the Earth and throughout her core worlds. When the Earth was eventually repopulated, the practice was never adopted again. Even when the methods were found in the Ark, it was deemed unnecessary, as the standard methods of agriculture were more than enough to feed the population of Earth. It became one of the many technologies that were considered better left alone, at least for the time being.”

  “There are reasons for genetic seed modification other than yield.”

  “True, but after the bio-digital plague, the people of Earth adopted a simpler attitude toward such things out of necessity. Technology scared them for many centuries after the plague. Many were vehemently opposed to our getting back into space.” Commander Taylor paused as she counted the crates of cantor beans stacked to the ceiling of the cargo hold. “In retrospect, they may have been right.”

  “You do not truly believe that.”

  “No, not me,” she assured him. “You can’t hide from progress. Eventually it finds you.”

  “Quite true.”

  “Besides, had we not gotten back into space, we would have been sitting ducks for the Jung.”

  “Also true,” Master Chief Montrose agreed.

  “How many rows deep are these bean boxes stacked?”

  “Four rows, I believe.”

  “What’s behind them?” Cameron asked as she tried to see past the rows of crates to the back wall.

  “Mostly crates of dehydrated food products and seasonings,” the master chief reported. “We try to keep all the food products in the same area whenever we can, which has not been easy since we have been using every space possible.”

  “We are loaded to the rafters, aren’t we?” Cameron admitted.

  “If by that you mean from floor to ceiling, then yes, we are.” After serving with Terrans for several months, he was becoming accustomed to their various turns of phrase, most of which he did not understand.

  “We should make aisles through here going all the way back to the bulkhead so we can get to whatever is behind this without having to restack the crates in front.”

  The chief of the boat gestured to his men standing behind him, who quickly went to work with their anti-grav lifts to create the requested aisle. “Commander, it was my understanding that you requested what I believe you referred to as an ‘administrative load’?”

  “You are correct, Master Chief. But whenever possible, we need to make it flexible. We don’t know what to expect during our voyage home. It pays to be prepared.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Think of it as a cross between an administrative and a tactical loadout.”

  “We may not have enough space to do as you ask,” he warned.

  “Be creative, Master Chief,” she said with a smile. “And don’t be afraid to shift things around as stuff gets used up and space is made available. Just keep good records as you change things around.”

  “Be creative, aye.”

  Cameron watched as the men finished shifting crates around and quickly created an aisle down the center of the stacks that led all the way back to the bulkhead. Only it wasn’t the bulkhead at the end of the aisle; it was a large metal container. “What is that?” she asked, pointing at the container at the end of the newly created aisle.

  “It is a shipping container,” the master chief answered.

  “I can see that.” Cameron walked down the aisle toward the container. As she grew nearer the container, she could see that it stretched from floor to ceiling and nearly from fore to aft of the hold. “This thing must be at least twenty meters long. How the hell did you get it in here?”

  “It was a tight fit to be sure. We had to shift everything over to one side of the hold in order to load this container.”

  “What’s inside?”

  “I do not know.”

  Commander Taylor looked at the master chief, her eyebrows raising in disbelief.

  “All I know is that it came from Takara,” the master chief explained. “It has the seal of Prince Casimir, and the locks are coded for the captain only. I assumed he was aware of its contents.”

  “Well if he is, he didn’t say anything to me about it.” Cameron moved down the narrow space between the crates full of dehydrated foods and seasonings, making her way to the front of the massive Takaran shipping container. Once at the front of the container, she found the lock control panel. She placed her hand on the scanner pad. A moment later, a message appeared in red. It was in Takaran, which the commander could not read.

  “It says, ‘Unlock request denied. Access restricted to Captain Nathan Scott,’” Chief Montrose explained.

  Cameron looked at the front end of the container. It was dark gray and polished just like the rest of the container’s walls, and it had structural ribs along the outside spaced every meter. It was solidly built with the obvious intention of protecting whatever was stored inside. For a moment, she felt apprehensive. The container was from a world that only weeks ago had been their enemy. She couldn’t help but wonder if the contents of the container might pose a threat. Many stories had survived the bio-digital plague, and the story of the Trojan horse had been one of them. Tug, or Prince Casimir, was a trusted ally who had laid his life on the line like everyone else, perhaps even more so than others. Still, not knowing what was inside bothered her. She was the ship’s XO, and she needed to know. It was her job to know.

  * * *

  “As you were,” Nathan announced as he entered the command briefing room. The trappings of rank and protocol never sat well with him, and he took every opportunity to avoid them whenever possible. Compelling them to remain seated before they even had a chance to stand had become habit with him, despite the constant objections from his executive officer. Nathan moved to his chair at the end of the table, the rest of his staff having already arrived for the morning briefing. As he took his seat, he noticed a late arrival coming through the hatchway. “Major Prechitt,” he stated with surprise, “I thought you were reassigned by the Corinari. Aren’t you supposed to be on the surface and in command of the Corinairan military forces?”

  “I have been reassigned,” the major said as he stepped up to the table.

  “To where?” Nathan wondered.

  “To the Aurora, sir, so that I may continue serving as your CAG, at least until you have safely returned to Earth—that is, if you’d still like me to do so.”

  “Of course, Major,” Nathan said, gesturing for him to take a seat and join them. “Glad to have you back aboard.”

  “Th
ank you, sir,” Major Prechitt said as he took his seat.

  “Who’s running the Corinari?” Jessica wondered.

  “Commander Toral will be taking command,” the major told her.

  “I wasn’t aware he had survived,” Nathan said.

  “His injuries were quite severe,” Doctor Chen said. “In my care, he would not have made it. The Corinairan surgeons were able to stabilize him enough to get him back to a hospital on Corinair. He’s been through several surgeries since then, as well as intensive nanite therapy. He will probably never regain full mobility of his legs, but last I heard, he was able to walk.”

  “Granted, he still has a long way to go in his recovery, but so do the Corinari.”

  “Wasn’t he a lieutenant commander when he was injured?” Cameron asked.

  “Yes, he was,” Major Prechitt said. “There are others that might be more experienced and more qualified than Commander Toral, but the Corinari numbers are already depleted, and combat-ready officers are in short supply. Toral was an obvious choice, under the circumstances.”

  “I’m surprised they let you go,” Nathan said. “I’m surprised they let any of you go, for that matter.”

  “They would have found it difficult to stop many of us,” the major responded.

  “How many did return?” Jessica wondered.

  Cameron picked up her data pad and studied it for a moment before responding. “All but fifty-seven, most of whom were serving in noncritical positions.”

  “I suspect that many of them were swept up in the moment or did not want to be seen in an unfavorable light in the eyes of their peers,” Major Prechitt said. “In addition, I know of several who, although they sincerely meant to stay aboard, were forced to remain on Corinair for family reasons. One of my own pilots was forced to remain when he discovered that his best friend’s children had been orphaned as a result of the attack by the Wallach.”

  “We never expected everyone to remain and make the journey back to Earth with us,” Nathan told him. “I consider us lucky that so many have returned.” Nathan turned to Cameron. “How will the loss of fifty-seven crewmen affect our staffing?”

  “Since most of them were noncritical positions, we still have three full shifts of operational crew. With a little cross-training, I can juggle them around a bit and make it work. We can even go down to two shifts if necessary. That would give us extra personnel to better cover sick calls. I will work something out and run it past you later today, sir.”

  “Very well.” Nathan turned to Vladimir. “How’s the ship looking, Lieutenant Commander?”

  “Better than she did when we first left Earth,” Vladimir said. “All flight systems are fully operational. Main propulsion, maneuvering, power generation, environmental: all are in perfect order. It is quite nice for a change.”

  “How about our jump drive?” Nathan asked.

  “The jump drive is fully operational, Captain,” Doctor Sorenson reported. “We also have two sets of emitters, guaranteeing us at least one full degree of redundancy. In addition, the Takarans upgraded all of the computers used by the jump drive and the jump plotting system. They also changed some of the basic algorithms to allow us to program a series of short local jumps. Now, you can create a preprogrammed series of jumps to quickly move the ship about during a tactical situation such as combat.”

  “Really?” Nathan didn’t hide the interest in his voice. “That was good thinking, Doctor.”

  “It was the Takarans, actually. Captain Navarro, the captain of the Avendahl, was fascinated by the possibilities of using a jump drive during combat. I believe it was his idea.”

  “So, we could jump several times in rapid succession?” Cameron wondered.

  “Yes. During our previous engagements, Captain Scott regularly made a series of short jumps in order to strike the same target from different angles. Because of the time required to calculate each jump in the series, it generally took several minutes for the Aurora to get into her next strike position. Captain Navarro was convinced that, if that time could be reduced to seconds, it would provide an even bigger tactical advantage.”

  “He’s right,” Nathan agreed. “The only delay would be our time to turn, which, if we were moving slowly enough, would only be seconds. A four-point turn could be done in less than a minute instead of a few minutes. If we were simply doing a one-eighty and jumping back in, it could be less than twenty seconds, assuming we were traveling slowly enough.”

  “The slower we travel when we jump in to attack, the easier it is for our opponent to strike back.”

  “True,” Nathan said, “but it only takes us ten seconds to get a round of torpedoes launched and another five seconds to change course and jump away. If we jump in at just the right distance from the target, we can be long gone before their weapons reach us, even if they launch the moment we appear.”

  “Unless they’re using energy weapons,” Jessica warned.

  “Do the Jung have energy weapons on their ships?” Nathan wondered.

  “We haven’t seen any evidence that the Jung possess them,” Jessica admitted, adding, “yet.”

  Nathan thought for a moment. “Regardless, the concept is worth looking into further. Commander, why don’t you and Lieutenant Commander Nash come up with some maneuvers that might be of use to us in a combat situation. You can start by analyzing the jump drive tactics we’ve used thus far that have been successful.”

  “Yes, sir,” Cameron said.

  “Feel free to throw in some ideas of your own,” Nathan added, the slightest hint of a smile forming on his face.

  “Count on it, sir,” Cameron answered, also fighting the urge to smile.

  Nathan had found it considerably easier to smile these days. While it was true that they were still a long way from home, they were no longer under threat and fighting for their lives. They also had a fully functional and properly supplied ship and nearly a full crew. Although he had grown accustomed to his role as captain as of late, he had no regrets at the thought of handing over command to someone more qualified upon their return to Earth.

  “How are we doing on supplies, Commander?” Nathan asked, changing the subject.

  “We’re fully loaded, sir,” Cameron told him. “In fact, I doubt we could fit much more. We’ve got enough food, water, and consumables to last us nearly a year at our current staffing levels. We’re also carrying quite a bit of raw materials for the fabricators that the Takarans gave us, so we should be able to manufacture any spare parts we might need along the way.”

  “Hopefully that won’t become necessary,” Nathan commented as he turned his attention to Lieutenant Commander Nash. “How are we with weapons?”

  “All sixteen mini-rail guns are operational,” Jessica began, “and we’re carrying full loads of both standard slugs and point-defense frag-rounds. The four quad guns are also operational, as are their translation rails, so they can be used from both our topside and our belly. The Takarans loaded us up with custom-manufactured rounds for the quads. We’ve got full loads of standard slugs, frag-rounds, and hull-piercing, delayed-trigger explosive rounds.”

  “What about torpedoes?” Nathan wondered.

  “That was a little trickier. As you know, the Takarans aren’t big torpedo users. They like missiles. They were able to scrounge up some older air-to-surface cruise missiles, the same kind they let the Corinari use. They were sitting in an ammo dump somewhere. They put fixed-yield tactical nukes in them and adapted them to be launched from our tubes. But again, they are point-and-shoot weapons with no maneuvering capabilities, as they were designed for atmospheric use, not deep space. However, they do some damage, just like the ones from the Corinari.”

  “How many?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “That should be more than enough,” Nathan said. “I don’t expect to get involved in any more rebellions on our way home.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Cameron agreed.

  “What about shields?” Nathan ask
ed. “Any word on that?”

  Doctor Sorenson leaned forward to chime in on the subject. “It is possible, at least according to the Takaran scientists and technicians that are making the trip with us. The problem is power generation. In order for the shields to be effective, they need to have a dedicated power source.”

  “We have four antimatter reactors, Doctor,” Vladimir stated. “Surely that would provide enough power.”

  “Of course,” she agreed. “Even one of them would be enough. However, our reactors are designed to work together to provide huge amounts of power to the entire ship and to balance the loads across all operational reactors, are they not?”

  “Da, that is correct.”

  “The design of the Takaran shields are such that strikes against them require massive energy surges from the reactors that supply them. For this reason, the Takarans always isolate the reactors powering the shields from those powering other systems. They also insist that at least one redundant reactor be available for the shields, again, in isolation from the rest of the ship.”

  “That would make it more difficult to recharge the jump drive in a timely fashion,” Vladimir noted, seeing her point.

  “What about the zero-point energy device?” Nathan asked.

  “We are looking into that possibility as well,” Abby assured him. “However, as you remember, the ZPED used by the Avendahl causes significant problems with our jump drive, even at lower output levels. We’re hoping that we can implement the smaller ZPEDs used by the high-speed comm-drones to power the shields. Theoretically, they should provide sufficient power. However, we are not yet sure if they will have a similar effect on the jump drive.”

  “We’d have to drop our shields first,” Jessica said. “Not an attractive requirement during battle, even if only for a split second.”

  “No, it’s not,” Nathan agreed. “Continue your research, Doctor. At the very least, I would think Fleet Command would want to incorporate the Takaran shields into future ship designs.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How about our jump range?” Nathan asked. “Any word on that yet?”