by Ryk Brown
“ZPEDs at five percent, Captain. All jump systems show normal.”
“Execute jump thirty-five,” Nathan ordered calmly.
“Jumping in three……”
Nathan thought about all the things that had happened to them since they had left Earth on what should have been a day trip.
“Two……”
No matter how difficult things had become, his instincts and a bit of luck had managed to find a way to come out on top.
“One……”
He only hoped they weren’t about to fail him.
“Jump.”
For a split second, as the bridge filled with the jump flash, he wondered if Cameron was right.
“Jump thirty-five complete,” Loki announced with obvious relief.
“Verifying position.”
Nathan looked at Cameron. He couldn’t tell if she was relieved or disappointed that nothing had happened to prove her right. He dismissed the urge to toss an ‘I told you so’ look in her direction.
“Position verified,” Lieutenant Yosef announced. “Two hundred twelve meters to port, fifty-seven meters below, one hundred eighty-seven kilometers downrange.”
Nathan looked back at Cameron. Her look turned a bit more smug. “Take the ZPEDs offline and shut down the hybrid jump drive,” he ordered as he stood from the command chair. “Plot jump thirty-six for fourteen light years using the standard emitter array and jump when ready, Mister Sheehan.”
Cameron breathed a sigh of relief.
“Aye, sir. Plotting jump thirty-six for fourteen light years using the standard emitter array.”
“Doctor Sorenson, I suggest you get busy on your analysis. I want a full report as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nathan stepped down from the command platform, passing Cameron. “You have the bridge, Commander,” he ordered as he headed aft toward his ready room. Abby also rose, exiting the bridge to starboard.
Cameron took a seat in the command chair, trying to maintain her composure. She noticed Josh as he turned around slightly and peeked at her over his shoulder. “Exciting enough for you, Mister Hayes?”
Josh just turned back around and stared at his console.
* * *
“I’d like to conduct at least one training exercise during each recharge layover,” Major Prechitt stated.
Nathan looked surprised. So far, the morning briefing had been the same old mundane operational details, just like every morning. He was beginning to wonder why they had these morning briefings. “Is that necessary?”
“Yes, sir, I believe so,” the major insisted. “Although most of my pilots are veterans of the Takara campaign, several have never even launched through the tubes and have only experienced one shipboard landing. If we’re to be expected to maintain a combat-ready state, we need to maintain our basic skills.”
“What about the simulators?” Cameron asked.
“The simulators have been most helpful,” Major Prechitt admitted, “but they are no substitute for actual flight time.”
“Simulators are good for running ‘what-if’ scenarios,” Master Chief Montrose stated, “but pilots need to fly to stay sharp, especially the new ones.”
“Can’t argue with that logic,” Nathan admitted.
“Since we do not know the state of affairs between the Earth and the Jung Empire, we should maintain a high state of readiness. That is why my pilots came along, is it not? To protect this ship?”
“No, you’re quite right, Major,” Nathan said. “Jump thirty-eight is less than an hour away. After that, you’ll have your first opportunity for your pilots to get out and stretch their legs a bit.” Nathan turned to Cameron. “Does that sound good to you, Commander?”
“I would suggest we limit the sortie windows to three hours to ensure that all spacecraft are safely aboard and the flight deck is red before jumping. Will that be enough time for your training flights, Major?”
“That would be plenty, Commander. I’ll start with my least experienced pilots in order to bring everyone to an even state of readiness.”
“Very well.” Nathan turned to Abby who had been sitting quietly at the opposite end of the table throughout the briefing. “Doctor? Have you anything to report?”
“Yes, sir. We have completed our analysis of the range variation problem we experienced while testing the hybrid jump drive system. I believe that we can compensate for the problem.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“The ZPEDs themselves create a rather odd field when running at higher outputs. Its effects are similar to that of a strong gravity well. It’s as if the vacuum point created by the module has mass, even though it does not.”
“But our ZPEDs were only running at five percent,” Cameron said.
“Yes, which is why we did not detect this field. We know of its existence because of the data from our encounter with both the Campaglia and the Avendahl.”
“If the ZPEDs act like gravity wells, wouldn’t that affect ships around it, pulling them in toward the ZPED?” Nathan asked.
“As I said, it’s like a gravity well, but it isn’t one. We can detect and measure the field, but it doesn’t seem to have the physical effects that one might expect. It does, however, affect other fields around it. The Takarans get around this problem in two ways: in their larger ships, they encase the entire ZPED reactor in a container made of a special, multi-layered, shielded alloy. This reduces the effect enough that it does not cause problems with other systems within the ship, like her exterior shields. This containment system allows them to run their ZPEDs at near maximum output.”
“What about in their comm-drones?” Nathan asked. “How do they get around the problem in them? There’s nowhere near enough space for such a containment system.”
“Correct. Their solution was rather simple: they keep their output at low levels—below twenty percent, I suspect. Even at a lower output, the mini-ZPED is more than powerful enough to run the high-speed comm-drones.”
“Forgive me, Doctor,” Cameron said, “I don’t mean to challenge your assumptions, but if this field isn’t detectable at lower output levels like those we were using during our test jumps, how can you be sure this was the cause of the range variance we experienced?”
“During the test jumps, we had reports of variations in the ship’s artificial gravity,” Vladimir announced. “These anomalies occurred in the decks around the mini-ZPEDs. It took some time to make the connection.”
“The variation patterns of the artificial gravity plating in the affected decks matches the expected patterns that would be generated by the ZPEDs at higher outputs,” Abby elaborated, “thus leading us to believe that the effect is still present at lower outputs, even if it is not enough for us to detect. This also explains why there were minor surges in power in the emitters nearest the ZPEDs themselves. The effect caused small surges, which the system compensated for by adding additional power to the remaining, unaffected emitters. The result was a longer jump than expected.”
Nathan rubbed his eyes. “This is all very interesting, but what exactly does it mean to us from an operational standpoint?”
“It means, Captain, that we can calculate the effect and adjust our power output to the emitters to compensate for the surge created by the ZPED fields. In fact, if we took apart the other two comm-drones and ran four ZPEDs at even lower outputs, we might be able to jump even farther and at even lower power outputs… again, without recharging.”
“That would leave us without working models for Fleet to reverse engineer when we get home,” Cameron pointed out.
“The commander is right, Doctor,” Nathan agreed. “We’re doing enough already. Best we hand over the last two mini-ZPEDs to Fleet R and D. I’m sure they’d love to get their hands on them.”
“As you wish, Captain. It shouldn’t take me more than a day to create and validate the new algorithms,” Abby promised.
“Doctor,” Cameron said, leaning back in her chair
as she cast an accusatory look toward Abby, “can you guarantee that the new algorithms will work as intended?”
“No, I cannot. However, if we start with shorter jumps at lower outputs and work our way up with each successful jump…”
“Until what? Until we have a problem?” Cameron interrupted as she leaned forward. She turned her head toward Nathan. “Sir, I’m not sure the risk is worth the potential gains here. Maybe if Doctor Sorenson took a little more time, ran the numbers some more…”
“Running the numbers further will not accomplish anything,” Abby protested. “Without practical testing we cannot be sure…”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Cameron interrupted. “We can’t be sure. Sir, we’re nearly halfway home already. Why take the additional risk?”
“A jump drive with greater range and without the need to recharge would be a significant tactical advantage,” Nathan reminded her as he leaned forward and placed his hands, folded, on the conference table.
“I’m not arguing that,” Cameron said. “But let Fleet R and D worry about that instead of risking the only jump-capable ship the fleet has.”
Nathan took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’ll take everything discussed here under consideration and give you my decision in the morning. If there is nothing else…” Nathan looked about for a moment to give everyone a chance to bring up another topic if desired. “Dismissed, everyone.”
Cameron sat patiently as the others made their way out of the briefing room, expecting to have a few words with her captain in private. However, unlike most days when Nathan would stay behind for a moment, today he, too, departed the room with haste, leaving Cameron alone without a word.
* * *
Cameron entered the captain’s ready room full of determination. She was going to have her say, regardless of military protocol.
“Captain,” she announced as she closed the hatch behind her.
“Commander,” Nathan responded, his eyes still on his desktop display. He glanced up momentarily and noticed that she was closing the hatch. “Something I can do for you?”
“Permission to speak freely, sir?”
Nathan leaned back in his chair. “Since when do you need permission, Commander?”
Cameron paused for a moment as she considered how to best address her concerns. Nathan, at times, was difficult for her to read. When they had first left Earth, she thought she’d had him all figured out. For the most part, she had been correct, but the last few months had changed him considerably. There were times when he was his old, arrogant, condescending self, confident that he could do no wrong. However, these days, he seemed more pensive, taking more time to consider his decisions. Still, she could not help but question his decision to continue the testing of the hybrid jump drive. He was the captain, and his decision would stand. She knew she had no grounds to override him on the matter. She did, however, have an obligation to protect the ship, even from her captain. She would have her say; she would challenge his decision in private. After all, he had granted her that right months ago.
“Speak your mind, Cam.”
“Are you seriously considering allowing Abby to continue testing the hybrid drive concept?”
“Yes, I’m seriously considering it.”
“Why, Nathan? Why are you so focused on getting that thing to work?”
“It’s simple, really. Being able to jump farther and without the need to recharge would be a huge step forward and would provide an even greater advantage than the original prototype provides.”
“I don’t see it as that great an advantage,” Cameron argued. “At least, not so much that it’s worth risking the ship.”
“How am I risking the ship?”
“Every jump is a risk, Nathan. You know that. For God’s sake, when we jump we’re literally plowing through space at unimaginable speeds and arriving in the middle of a completely unexplored region. That alone is a risk.”
“Granted.”
“At least with the prototype we have experience and an abundance of performance data. This helps us reduce the risk associated with jumping about the galaxy.”
“How so? Just because we haven’t yet had any problems associated with the prototype? We’re still jumping into unknown space every time. How is using the ZPED-powered hybrid any more risky?”
“Because of the range variance error…”
“Which is why I stopped the previous testing once we had accumulated sufficient data,” Nathan said, interrupting her. “Now Abby believes she has figured out how to compensate for the effect of the ZPED’s field disturbance. I’m inclined to give her a chance to test her theories.”
“At the risk of this ship.”
“Tell me how I am increasing the risk to this ship by any significant degree,” Nathan demanded calmly.
Cameron paused to regroup. “It’s not the level of risk that I object to, Nathan. I admit that Abby has done everything possible to mitigate the risk. My objection is to the use of this ship as the test vehicle. Under other circumstances, I might agree that the additional effort is worth it. However, we have an obligation to get this ship back to Earth.”
“We have an obligation to protect the Earth,” Nathan corrected. “I’m trying to make sure we’re as prepared as possible to do just that.”
“And how exactly does putting this ship at additional risk help protect the Earth? We’re going to be home in less than two weeks, Nathan, even without the ZPEDs. We don’t need to experiment with them…”
“People died for those ZPEDs!” Nathan declared, sitting forward again with such determination and speed that it startled Cameron. “So you can be damned sure I’m going to try to find a way to use them!”
“Is that why you’re so hell-bent on getting the ZPEDs to work? They didn’t die so that we could have ZPEDs, Nathan. They died defending their world.”
“They died because I couldn’t leave well enough alone!”
Nathan took pause to gather his thoughts, leaning back in his chair again as he regained his composure. “From a practical standpoint, it makes sense to conduct further tests of the hybrid jump system. Should it prove usable, it might allow us to jump right past Jung-occupied space, giving us a better chance of reaching Earth without further incident.” Nathan looked Cameron directly in the eyes. “That’s the reason I’m ‘hell-bent’ on getting the ZPEDs to work, Commander, and that’s the only reason. I don’t want any more of us to die, not if there’s a way to prevent it. The ZPEDs are our best hope, Commander. For us and the Earth. Is that understood?”
“Couldn’t leave well enough alone. Aye, sir, I understand that,” Cameron retorted, feeling confident that she had gotten to the bottom of Nathan’s reasons for pursuing the ZPEDs so fervently. “Then you’ve decided?”
“No, I haven’t, Commander,” Nathan stated, returning to his previously calm demeanor. “But rest assured that your comments will have some bearing on my decision.”
After a long silence, she dipped her chin down slightly, trying to look into Nathan’s eyes. He had the amazing ability to go from enraged to dead calm in seconds. It was one of the traits that had surprised her early on. “Are we good?”
Despite his best efforts to conceal it, a smile started to form at the corner of his mouth. “We’re good, Commander.”
“Just checking.” She took two steps backward, maintaining eye contact long enough to see that he had relaxed a bit. Satisfied that they truly were okay, she began to turn toward the hatch.
“Hey, Cam,” Nathan called. She stopped and turned back toward him. “If Captain Roberts were still alive and in command, and you were his XO, would you be asking him the same questions?”
“If he was thinking about doing the same stupid thing? Hell yes.”
Nathan’s smile broadened. “Just checking.”
* * *
Nathan walked across the main room of his quarters to the entrance hatch. He swung the hatch open and found Vladimir smiling on the othe
r side.
“Did I wake you?” Vladimir asked. “Of course not,” he added with a laugh, “you don’t sleep.”
“Not from lack of trying,” Nathan said as he closed the hatch and followed Vladimir into the main room.
“Sorry I could not join you for dinner,” Vladimir said as he went to Nathan’s kitchenette, looking for a snack. “Abby had my entire department installing special sensors in the decks around the mini-ZPEDs. That woman…” Vladimir stopped mid-sentence, thinking. “How long have we been gone?”
“From Earth?” Nathan asked, plopping down on the couch.
“Of course from Earth.”
“I don’t know exactly. I kind of lost track. Four months, maybe?”
“Four months, and that woman is still a pain in my popa.”
“Your what?”
“Popa. You know.” Vladimir stopped searching the kitchenette long enough to point at his butt. “Don’t you have anything to eat around here?”
“I have my own cook, remember? I think there are a few of those meal bars in the cupboard over the sink.”
“Oh,” Vladimir declared with glee, “I love these things. I thought Cameron returned them all to the escape pods.”
“I guess she missed a few.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Vladimir took a bite of one of the bars and took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. “She doesn’t miss anything.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Nathan said. “She’s been riding me nonstop about my wanting to let Abby test the hybrid jump drive.”
“Why?”
“She thinks it’s an unnecessary risk.”
“What risk? We have sensors everywhere. Not a single electron flows without our knowing it. The worst thing that can happen is that we jump a bit farther than we planned.”
“I guess she sees that as a risk.”
“Nathan, she does know that we are in the middle of nowhere, right? It’s not like we are going to run into something. I mean, the odds of that happening are so…”
“Don’t talk to me about odds,” Nathan said, grimacing. “I have a bad habit of proving them wrong, remember?”
