Frontiers 07 - The Expanse

by Ryk Brown

  * * *

  “According to the files from the Data Ark, the star was part of a search for potentially habitable worlds,” Nathan explained from behind his desk. “It was on the list of worlds to be further studied to determine habitability.”

  “Yes, I read up on it on the way,” Cameron told him, holding up her data pad. “An F-eight, ninety-seven point two light years from Earth. Six gas giants, two rocky inner worlds, one in the system’s habitable zone.” She looked at him as she took a seat, noticing the intrigue on his face. “You want to go, don’t you?” She rolled her eyes. “Why?”

  “Yosef thinks it’s a ship or a satellite of some kind,” Nathan said.

  “Thinks?”

  “The signal is still pretty broken up. There’s a Doppler component to the signal as well. Yosef believes it—whatever it is—is orbiting a planet approximately one point four Earth masses.”

  “How many hours until we could jump there?”

  “About two and a half to jump. Seven to a full charge.”

  “Have you looked at the propellant consumption data yet?” she asked.

  “Minimal for pre- and post-jump course corrections. A little more than I’d like, if we end up parking in a stellar orbit in the target system. I had Loki plot a coast-through course. That way, if we find nothing of interest, we won’t waste any additional propellant putting ourselves on station.”

  “Well, it’s too far beyond the fringe to be a Jung-occupied world, at least according to Fleet’s limited intelligence,” Cameron said. “So why bother wasting any propellant at all?”

  “It’s not like we don’t have enough, Commander.”

  “I know. I just don’t like the idea of waste,” Cameron said. “So what do you expect to find?”

  “I don’t know. Another colony founded by people who escaped the plague a thousand years ago?” He grinned. “Perhaps with a big propellant factory,” he added.

  “Another thousand year-old colony?” Cameron said. “You really love those long odds, don’t you?”

  “What can I say? I’m an optimist.”

  “It’s more likely an old survey probe,” Cameron said. “They launched hundreds of them during the twenty-third century right after they developed mass-canceling fields.”

  “I thought about that,” Nathan said, “but weren’t those probes designed to go from one system to the next, ad infinitum? Those probes would be several thousand light years out by now.”

  “Perhaps something malfunctioned and it’s stuck there.”

  “Come on, Cam; don’t tell me you’re not at least curious.”

  “Yes, of course I’m curious,” she admitted, “but I am also practical. I did some calculating of my own. If we jump halfway there, we should be able to get a strong signal, possibly even an ID on the source. Then, if it turns out to be a waste of time, we can make our turn back to Sol earlier and burn a little less propellant in the turn.”

  “Is it really going to make that much of a difference?”

  “No, but every little bit counts, Nathan. Besides, it’s only prudent to get as much intel as possible before we go jumping into the target system. If that signal is coming from a ship, it parked itself in that system for a reason. I’d like to have a better idea of what that reason might be before we jump in close.”

  “Agreed,” Nathan said, “but I’d like to jump in halfway as soon as possible and continue recharging the jump drive while we collect more of the signal.”

  * * *

  “Jump fifty-five complete,” Loki reported.

  “Position verified,” Lieutenant Yosef reported. “Scanning for signal source.”

  “Green deck,” Nathan ordered.

  “Green deck, aye,” Jessica answered.

  “I’ve reacquired the signal, sir. It’s coming in strong and clear now, Captain,” Lieutenant Yosef reported.

  “Flight reports two Talons are away,” Naralena reported.

  “I have the contact,” Jessica reported. “It’s coming from the second planet.”

  “Transfer the target data to the Talons,” Nathan ordered.

  “Aye, Captain,” Jessica responded, “transferring target data to Talons.”

  “It’s definitely a ship, Captain,” Lieutenant Yosef reported. “It’s transmitting an automated distress beacon. I’m getting an ID string. Searching the database now.”

  “What’s our flight time to the target?” Nathan asked.

  “Six hours eight minutes at present speed,” Loki reported, “but we’re not on an intercept course, Captain. We’ll pass well clear of her gravity well. Shall we alter course to intercept and make orbit?”

  “Not yet, Mister Sheehan,” Nathan said. “Let the Talons take a look at the target first. Helm, maintain course and speed for now.”

  “Aye, sir,” Josh acknowledged, “maintaining course and speed.”

  Major Prechitt adjusted the beam width on his Talon fighter’s forward scanner array, focusing it on the area specified by the targeting data transmitted to him by the Aurora.

  “See anything, Major?” his wingman asked from his fighter as it followed off the major’s starboard side.

  “Stand by,” the major told him. A shape began to resolve on his scanner display, but no information about the ship appeared. “Got it, I think. There’s no data on the target, though. It must not be in our database.”

  “This far from the Pentaurus sector, I’m not surprised,” his wingman said.

  “I’m sending you its position now,” Major Prechitt told his wingman.

  “Let’s go check it out.”

  Major Prechitt pushed his throttle to the wall, pushing him gently back into his seat as his fighter’s inertial dampening system compensated for the sudden acceleration. “Aurora, Talon One,” he called over the comms. “Contact acquired. Vectoring to intercept. We have no data on the target, no ID on the target.”

  “Talon One, Aurora. We copy. We’re searching our databases now. Stand by.”

  “Talon One copies. Time on target: sixty-seven minutes.”

  “I found a match, Captain,” Lieutenant Yosef announced. “In an old ship registration database from the Data Ark. It took a while to find it, as it wasn’t an active ship at the time. I found it in a list of decommissioned ships.”

  “Decommissioned?” Nathan wondered. “Then what’s it doing out here?”

  “It was a cargo ship, the Jasper. Launched from the Alpha Centauri shipyards in 2257. She was designed to run cargo between Alpha Centauri and Earth.”

  “She’s a long way off course, then,” Nathan said.

  “The Jasper was registered to one of the old Earth interstellar shipping companies,” the lieutenant continued, “in service on the Earth-Centauri run for sixty-eight years until she was decommissioned.”

  “How does a decommissioned, old freighter end up ninety-seven light years from home?” Nathan mumbled.

  “Maybe someone bought her and fixed her up,” Josh said as he turned back toward the captain.

  Nathan had a look of surprise on his face at Josh’s theory. Not that it didn’t make sense, it just seemed odd coming from someone who, only a few months ago, didn’t even know Earth existed.

  “I’ve been reading up on the history of spaceflight,” Josh explained, noticing his captain’s look of surprise, “mostly about the Earth’s expansion phase. A lot of the old decommissioned ships were later sold to small independents looking to make a living running cargo between fringe worlds. The big ships mostly serviced the core worlds, so there was a lot of opportunity for captains with small cargo ships to earn a living running freight around the fringe.”

  “Those worlds were up to a decade apart, even at FTL speeds for the time,” Nathan said.

  “They used sleeper pods,” Josh explained. “To them, it was only a week per trip. Some of them had their whole family living on board.”

  “So they all traveled forward through time together,” Nathan said, “only aging a few days while the rest
of the universe aged years.” Nathan shook his head. “An odd way to live.”

  “A few trips and their ship would become antiquated,” Jessica said.

  “It was antiquated when they bought it,” Nathan corrected. “Any details about the ship?” he asked, turning to Lieutenant Yosef.

  “Top speed of two point five light. Crew of eight. Probably using suspended animation systems during the bulk of the journey.”

  “What kind of cargo did she carry?”

  “She was a container ship, so she could carry just about anything.”

  “Any other emissions coming from the target?”

  “Just faint energy and very low thermal images.”

  Nathan took a deep breath. “Comms, convey what we know to Talon One.”

  “Odd world for a cargo ship to orbit,” Major Prechitt commented as his flight of two Talon fighters approached the target. They had settled into orbit just behind the target, rather than intercepting her head on. Although the contact didn’t appear to be a threat, caution seemed prudent. It was also a good opportunity for his wingman to get some orbital intercept practice.

  He gazed out his canopy at the planet below. It was cold and desolate in its appearance, its gray-blue oceans broken up by barren, mountainous terrain along its middle latitudes. Both poles were covered with ice caps that extended considerably toward the planet’s equator. “Doesn’t seem very habitable to me.”

  “Neither does Lonjetta,” his wingman stated over the comms, “but we all go there for vacation every year.”

  “Corinairans go to Lonjetta for the hot springs, not the climate.”

  “Don’t forget the all-day night life.”

  Major Prechitt smiled. He had stopped vacationing at the resort on one of the many moons orbiting Darvano’s largest gas-giant. That was a place for younger men.

  He turned his gaze forward once more, picking out his distant target against the background of stars along the planetary horizon ahead. “Visual contact. Time on target: one minute.”

  “Still think it’s an Earth ship?” his wingman asked.

  “The configuration matches the one the Aurora sent us.”

  “Think there’s anyone still living on that thing?”

  “Negative, but we’ll pass on opposite sides, just in case.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Major Prechitt watched as the distant, gray-white dot rapidly grew in size, changing its shape into that of a ship as they grew closer with each passing second. “Twenty seconds. Beginning deceleration for rendezvous.”

  They had been coasting as they approached, and now both fighters applied deceleration thrust to gradually decrease their closure rate until they were traveling only slightly faster than their target, allowing them to overtake her slowly. As a precaution, the major had armed his weapons systems, knowing that his wingman would detect his actions and do the same. “Ten seconds.”

  Major Prechitt stared out his canopy at the freighter as they approached from her stern, glancing down at his instrument console every few seconds as he maneuvered his fighter in closer. “Recording,” he announced as he activated his data recorders.

  “Man, this thing is bigger than I thought,” his wingman exclaimed.

  The cargo ship was long and slender with three main sections located at her bow, midship, and stern. Each section was connected by long trusswork, within which were tunnels, piping, and conduit of all sizes. Along the exterior were large cargo containers neatly parked in rows along all four sides of the trusses, both fore and aft of the midship section. All but one of the cargo containers were missing from the forward truss. However, all of her aft containers were still affixed to the trusswork that joined the midship section to the drive section at the ship’s aft end.

  “She’s definitely seen better days,” Major Prechitt commented as they coasted past her mid-section on their way forward. He pivoted his fighter, keeping his nose on her as they passed. “Look at all the external damage.”

  “She looks fried, sir.”

  “And battered,” Major Prechitt added, noting the various holes in her hull and the numerous broken truss sections. “She’s taken more than a few debris hits in her day.” He looked down at his instruments. “She’s still got power,” he announced. “Her reactor is still hot.”

  “She’s got more than one, sir,” his wingman reported. “I’m picking up a few dozen fusion signatures.”

  “Are you sure they’re not just echoes of the same reactor?”

  “No, sir, they’re separate sources. Very faint, but definitely separate.”

  “Telemetry coming in from Talon One, sir,” Lieutenant Yosef reported. “They confirm it’s the Jasper. Transferring to viewer.”

  Nathan and the entire bridge crew watched as the data feed from Major Prechitt’s fighter displayed on the main view screen in three separate windows. The visual feed was displayed in the center as the fighters performed their flyby. On the left was their flight data and course projections, and on the right was their sensor data.

  “Initial reports indicate that, although she has suffered a lot of external damage, many of her internal systems are still operational.”

  “Well, she’s still got power,” Nathan said. “That alone is pretty impressive, especially after a thousand years.”

  “Why is she still heavily loaded?” Cameron asked.

  “What?”

  “Her cargo pods,” Cameron added, pointing them out on the viewer for Nathan. “Her aft section is completely loaded. If she were delivering cargo to the planet below, she’d be empty, wouldn’t she?”

  “Assuming the planet was her destination,” Nathan said. “Maybe she was bound for someplace farther out and had to stop here due to mechanical problems.”

  “For a thousand years?”

  “Only one way to find out,” Nathan turned toward Jessica at the tactical station behind him. “Think you can access her through one of her hatches?”

  “If not, we’ll blast our way in using the breach boxes,” Jessica said with a constrained grin, “just like we did on the Loranoi.”

  Nathan smiled. He was finally giving his security chief something exciting to do. “Take a security team and some engineers with you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mister Sheehan, if we maintain our present course and speed, how long before we are too far past for a shuttle to catch up to us?”

  “We’ll be passing the planet in five and a half hours, sir.” He paused for a moment as he ran the numbers. “It will take us about fourteen more hours to reach the shuttle’s max return range—so about nineteen hours and thirty minutes, sir.”

  “Let’s play it safe and say eighteen hours,” Nathan said to Jessica.

  “We’ll be back in half that,” Jessica announced as she turned to exit.

  “Eighteen will be fine, Lieutenant Commander.”

  “We’re not going to make orbit, then?” Cameron wondered.

  “Unless they find some compelling reason to hang around longer, I don’t see the need,” Nathan said. “Every drop counts, eh, Commander?”

  * * *

  “Good seal,” The shuttle’s flight technician reported.

  “How’s that possible?” Sergeant Weatherly wondered. “It’s a thousand year-old cargo ship, and a busted up one at that.”

  “It’s probably because our docking collar is designed to create its own seal, independent of the target,” the shuttle’s Corinairan flight technician explained. “We’re just lucky the ship’s designers thought to make her hull smooth and flat around her boarding hatch.”

  The sergeant nodded. “At least we don’t have to blow our way in.”

  “I rather like blowing our way in,” Jessica said, grinning.

  “Not me,” Sergeant Weatherly admitted. “I hate loud noises.”

  “You’re a Marine,” Jessica stated with amusement. “Man, did you pick the wrong job.” Jessica turned to face the boarding team behind her. “Face plates down and sealed, g
entlemen,” she ordered as she dropped the face plate on her suit helmet and activated the sealing mechanism. All exterior noise suddenly left her ears as the helmet sealed up and the suit adjusted its internal pressure, becoming its own little environment. “So why did you enlist, Sergeant?” she asked over her suit comm.

  “I liked the pretty uniform,” he joked, “thought it would get me laid more.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Worked great with your sister,” the sergeant jeered.

  “I don’t have a sister,” Jessica answered, “just brothers.”

  “My mistake. Must have been your mother.”

  Jessica shook her head inside her helmet. She sometimes missed the bravado of her old special operations unit, and the sergeant was a good substitute at times. “Check your weapons: low power, safeties on. This old wreck has already got enough holes in her; let’s not make any more.”

  The internal lighting in the shuttle dimmed. “Adjusting lighting to match the interior of the Jasper,” the flight tech reported.

  Jessica waited a moment for their eyes to adjust. “Stay dark until I light up.” She turned to the flight tech, who had also donned his helmet and sealed up his suit. “Open her up.”

  The flight tech cracked open the shuttle’s inner hatch, revealing the Jasper’s midship boarding hatch on the other side. A thick layer of dust, collected over centuries in orbit, swirled up from the Jasper’s hatch, pulled free by the slight suction created by the movement of the shuttle’s inner hatch as it swung inward. Jessica stepped forward and brushed the dust off the control panel alongside the Jasper’s hatch.

  “It’s in English,” she stated without surprise. English had become the universal language long before the bio-digital plague had nearly destroyed humanity across the core. Even after the people of Earth had become separated and people had reverted to their native tongues, English had always been taught alongside whatever primary language the locals had spoken. She also spoke a derivative of Spanish common to the lower regions of the Florida peninsula on Earth.