Vorpal Blade votsb-2

by John Ringo

  9

  We’re HOW FAR Off Course?

  “ Wegurcaingl!” Tchar shouted as the grav wave hit. His arms flew to their limits from tidal stress and he watched in horror as the coryllium sphere began spinning out of control.

  At the first movement, the world seemed to tear apart. The massive Adar flew through the air of the engine room, spinning as tidal forces began to corkscrew. The air seemed to turn violet and the bulkheads seemed to stretch. By luck as much as anything he landed on his back, his helmet slamming into position and automatically locking. He slid across the metal floor feet first into the rear bulkhead as the air began to smell like yellow.

  The shearing forces of whatever had hit them had caused a cascade failure in the lighting system, but red emergency lighting came on automatically. When Tchar looked up the coryllium sphere was spinning like a top, a blue glow filling the air around it.

  The shearing stress and the random distance fluctuations caused by the confused warp field left an odd residual effect on the boat, which either was tossing end for end or felt like it was. The difference was only semantics and Tchar didn’t feel like debating it at the moment. He was pinned to the far bulkhead, and the engineer on the reactor console was crumpled in the corner, unconscious or dead.

  Tchar stretched out one arm and grabbed a stanchion, waving his hand back and forth to figure out where it was, then dragged himself across the compartment by main strength until he got a hand around the pedestal of the engineer’s chair. With two hands he chinned himself up to the chair then reached up and hit the chicken switch on the reactor, cutting all power to the engine.

  The weird sensory effect and gravitational stresses fell away immediately. Of course, it was replaced by microgravity.

  “Oh, this is much better,” Tchar snarled. He pulled himself into the engineer’s too-small chair and began the laborious process of stopping the spinning ball and getting it realigned.

  “What just happened?” the chief engineer asked from across the compartment.

  “Dr. Weaver, what in the hell just happened?” the CO asked, shaking his head. He’d popped his helmet into place as had most of the conn that were still at their stations. “And is it just me, or is the bow shock gone?”

  “It’s gone, sir,” Weaver said, slowly lifting himself up with one hand. At the very beginning of the strange effect he had hunkered down to the deck, slammed his helmet down and held on for dear life. Fortunately, most of the conn crew were strapped into their seats. The only three people on the conn who didn’t have seats were Weaver, the XO and the COB. Weaver had hunkered, the XO had grabbed a stanchion for dear life and was now holding on with one hand, frowning. He did not like microgravity.

  The chief of boat was standing by the diving board, legs spread, his arms folded, one hand holding a cup of coffee. He was floating about two feet off the deck, though.

  “That was interesting,” the command master chief said. He slowly turned his coffee mug over, then reached up and lowered himself to the deck by pressing a finger on the overhead. A careful wrist twist and he had his mug back upright with the coffee held in place by microgravity forces. He still had his helmet open so very, very slowly he took a sip. The black coffee rippled and glimmered oddly, but friction between the cup and the liquid held it in place as he lowered it again. “Damned interesting. Reminded me of one time we hit this tsunami off Sumatra…”

  “I saw all the viewscreens blank out,” the CO said. “The indicator lights were still going so apparently there just wasn’t anything to show. There are apparently benefits in this job to being a fighter pilot. I’m not sure if we were actually tumbling…”

  “Neither am I, sir,” Bill said, bringing his tracking system to life. “But I’m pretty sure we’re not where we were.”

  “And by that you mean…” the XO said.

  “I mean we’re not anywhere near where we used to be, sir,” Bill replied. “I’m working on tracking right now, but so far I can say that we are nowhere within five light-years of Sol…”

  “You okay, Miriam?” Mimi asked.

  “No,” Miriam said, folding up the plastic bag. “I’m dying. Oh. My. Goddd!” She hastily pulled the bag closed and reached for another. “I hate zero G!”

  “I don’t think it will repeat,” Mimi said. She lowered her feet from where they’d been planted on the overhead. “I think we went through a dimensional shift. I hope we get gravity back soon, though…”

  “Normal space drive coming on-line,” the COB said over the 1-MC. “Prepare for gravity in all compartments. Repeat, prepare for gravity in all compartments.”

  “We’ve got ten casualties,” the XO said. Everyone had their feet on the ground for when the gravity came up and when it did he simply bent his knees slightly. “All minor except for one cranial injury in engineering. He’s been taken to sickbay and Dr. Chet says that so far it just appears to be a concussion. No fractures.”

  “Small favors,” the CO said. “Okay, Commander Weaver, what’s the consensus?”

  “I’ve talked with Tchar and Dr. Beach,” Bill replied. “We apparently went into either a dimensional gate of some sort or possibly a ‘hard’ warp where we weren’t dropping in and out. Mimi is apparently pretty sure that it was a dimensional gate and based on some… objective effects I agree with her.”

  “Both of you having been in a dimensional gate before,” the CO said.

  “Yes, sir,” Bill replied. “The effect, as far as I can tell, other than the weird effects, was to… jump us to Epsilon Eridani.”

  “That’s not just off course,” the CO said, frowning. “That’s way off course.”

  “Yes, sir,” Bill replied. “More or less in completely the wrong direction. Our survey plan just went out the window; we weren’t supposed to survey the E Eridani area until late in the survey. But at least we’re in the same universe.”

  “Are we sure?” the XO asked, sarcastically.

  “Pretty sure,” Weaver answered. “The physics team is doing some pretty sophisticated tests. So far, quantum mechanics is working the same way as we’d expect with the exception of some gravitational effects. They’re asking if they can do an EVA and do more grav tests.”

  “XO?” the CO asked.

  “I’m for it,” the XO said. “We took some damage. Nothing serious, but it would give us time to fix it all before we take off again. If we shut all the way down we can chill, too. Question: Are we going to have that problem each time we hit one of these helio things?”

  “Unknown, sir,” Bill said. “I’m hoping that if we approach away from the bow shock it will be lower. But I’m also recommending to the chief engineer and to Tchar that we install a better seat for the engineering watch crew. That way if we dimensionally jump again, they can shut down the power. That is what stopped us, this time. If Tchar hadn’t scrammed the power, I’m not sure where we would have ended up. The other side of the galaxy would have been bad. In the middle of a star would have been worse.”

  “…A gravitational standing wave,” Berg said.

  Most of the Marines in the compartment were either sticking their heads out of their racks or were out of them listening, since the Nugget seemed to know what he was talking about.

  “What in the grapp is a grav…” Lujan asked.

  “It’s…” Berg paused and shrugged. “It’s what you felt. It’s sort of like a wave that stays in one place. If it’s gravity, you get pulled this way and that. I’m glad it wasn’t any stronger than what we hit. I mean, the shearing stress could have torn the ship apart.”

  “That’s great to hear,” Crowley said sarcastically. “But what was that thing that happened with… Did anybody else think the air tasted… yellow?”

  “I thought it tasted red,” Clay from Third Platoon said. The lance corporal shook his head. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

  “I don’t know what that was,” Berg admitted. “I’ve heard of the effect; it’s called synesthesia. I’ve heard of it bef
ore but I never thought I’d experience it. I think I puked up a soprano note.”

  “I got the smell like green,” Tanner from Third said.

  “It was a dimensional jump,” Top said from the hatchway. “But good job on the rest of it, Berg. I was dreading explaining gravitational standing waves. As for the dimensional jump, nobody and I do mean nobody, from the lowest engine tech up to Commander Weaver knows why it happened for sure.”

  He stepped into the compartment and made his way down to the center.

  “For your general information, we’re about ten light-years off course. For Crowley’s benefit, that’s a long way. And we made that jump in about a minute and a half if we can trust the clocks. The good news is that we’re still in the same universe. The command group is trying to figure out what to do about both problems, being off course and the grav waves at system edge, right now. And we’re going to leave it up to them because we are Marines not ship commanders or astrogators. Second Platoon, you’re on rest cycle. First and Third, you’re up. You’ve got training schedules, get with them. Anybody who is not supposed to be in their rack had better be out of that rack by the time I leave the compartment.”

  Berg pulled his head back in as First and Third started throwing themselves out of their bunks, sucking up to the walls to let Top past.

  “Synesthesia, huh?” Hattelstad said. “You know, I’m reconsidering this whole Space Marine thing. This maulk never happened to those guys in Aliens. All they had to worry about was being impregnated by an alien monster.”

  “Hey, day’s young,” Jaenisch said. “I think that’s on the training schedule for tomorrow.”

  “All hands! Stand by for chill!”

  “Ah, hell…”

  “All hands, all hands, stand by for chill,” the 1-MC announced. “Microgravity in five seconds. We Be Chilling!”

  “They’re chilling,” Dr. Aaron Ratliff said, closing the connections on his suit gloves. “We have to work.”

  He grasped a stanchion as the gravity faded to nothing, then cautiously donned his last glove.

  “Apparently Dr. Becker’s theories on the interstellar gravity aren’t just the ravings of a deluded madman,” Beach said, pulling the astrophysicist over to check his connections. “You’re good.”

  “Stand by for door opening sequence,” Ratliff said, pushing himself gently to the far wall. The airlock had two door controls, one on either side of the compartment. Both required a keycode and both had to be activated within a fraction of a second of each other for the door to open.

  On submarines, outer hatches were set up so that they could only open outward. One reason for this was that the pressure was better managed that way; the pressure seated the hatch instead of trying to push it open. The other reason, though, was a tad more subtle. Sometimes people cracked under “pressure” as it were. And sometimes they very much wanted out, to the point of attempting to open the hatches.

  One of the biggest refits on the SSBN Nebraska had been installing remote controls on all the hatches. It was impossible to refit them all so that they opened inwards, thus preventing such “accidental” openings when in vacuum. But the three true airlocks on the boat had to have two people open them. And the inner doors could not be opened simultaneously, the only exception being during a declared emergency.

  The last thing anyone wanted was an “accidental” venting of the spaceship.

  “Venting to death pressure,” Beach said, entering his code. “Pressure check.”

  “Nominal,” the astrophysicist replied.

  “Keycode entered,” Beach said.

  “Same same,” Becker said.

  “And three, two, one…”

  Both twisted the hatch controls as close to simultaneously as human reactions and quantum theory allowed, and the airlock door opened outwards.

  Everette pulled himself out the door one-handed, then spun to face outwards. When he was aligned he punched the controls on the air-pack and was puffed gently away from the boat.

  “How far?” Beach asked. “I’d say that a thousand meters should do it.”

  “Until we don’t pick up gravitational effects from the boat,” Becker replied. “Which I’m still picking up.”

  “Sure it’s not from you?” Everette asked.

  All bodies exert gravity. Just as the Earth “pulls” a person down, the person’s body exerts gravitational effect on the Earth, pulling it ever so slightly “upwards.” Newton had demonstrated this with a couple of balls of lead and springs back in the 1800s.

  The device Dr. Becker carried was essentially the same thing, a device for measuring gravity, if much much more accurate. But the very presence of the scientists was going to affect the measurements, much less the much larger mass of the boat.

  “Quite,” Becker replied. “We’ll go out to a thousand meters, then check. If there’s still noticeable effect from the boat we may need to use a probe.”

  “Okay, I’m going to admit to ignorance,” Miller said.

  With the boat in “chill” mode, activity was discouraged. Most systems were shut down, the engines were shut down and people were encouraged to find a quiet place to sit and generate the minimum heat possible. In the meantime the silica heat sinks were extended from their tubes and folding heat vanes popped up, dissipating the maximum heat possible.

  And it was very possible. The area that the boat currently rested in was at a temperature very close to absolute zero. Between the minor air and liquid leakage that was unavoidable with the Blade and the vanes on the heat sinks, the built-up waste heat was sucked out like a kid going at a milk shake.

  In the meantime, it was a great time to talk. The crew and mission specialists took it as “off duty” time and Miller was dressed appropriately in one of his Hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts. He also was floating in midair and the shirt tended to ride up, showing a stomach that was roped with scars.

  “Go,” Weaver said, taking a sip from his bulb of cola. He’d much prefer beer but the “Alliance” ships still had a regulation against it. He’d stayed in uniform precisely because it was a better outfit for microgravity.

  “What’s the deal with gravity being different between the stars?” Miller asked.

  “Bent space,” the Adar said, taking a sip of cola. Which in Weaver’s opinion was just unfair. Caffeine had an effect similar to alcohol on the Adar so Tchar was, for all practical purposes, having a beer.

  “Which tells me exactly…” Miller said.

  “Well, we’ve sort of gotten beyond Einstein’s theories at this point,” Bill said, “but they still sort of work to explain. First of all imagine a rubber sheet stretched off to infinity. Flexible and thin, like latex.”

  “Got it,” Miller said.

  “Big sheet of latex and more or less perfectly flat,” Bill continued. “Now, take a metal ball and set it on the sheet. What happens?”

  “If it’s heavy enough it sinks in,” Miller said.

  “Right,” Bill said. “But what happens to the sheet?”

  “It gets sort of bulged down,” Miller said, frowning. “So?”

  “That’s a planet,” Bill said. “Or a star or a galaxy if it’s a big enough sheet. And anything that gets close?”

  “It sort of rolls down to the ball,” Miller said, nodding. “Okay, gravity makes sense. But what’s the thing with between stars… ?”

  “What if the sheet isn’t actually flat?” Bill asked. “Say if there’s like air being blown up under it?”

  “I don’t get that one,” Miller admitted.

  “Near planets and even suns, the sheet acts as if it is flat,” Tchar said, taking another sip of cola. “But as you get away from that influence, it acts more as if it is… bulging up. There is inertial resistance throughout the interstellar space. This may be due to reduced interference with Lilarmaurg particle generation. Theoretically.”

  “Lilar — What?”

  “One of their scientists,” Bill replied. “Lilarmaurg particles are similar
to what we refer to as zero point energy, but Lilarmaurg proved the existence of his particles while ZPEs are still debated. However, just because you know that a particle exists doesn’t mean you can do anything with it or even produce it. And even after seven years we’re still trying to get some merging in our two physics approaches. Anyway, there’s some indications that as you leave the solar regions there is sort of a hill you have to climb to get to the next solar region. And we’ve more or less proven that there’s a disturbed zone between the two regions.”

  “Ten casualties proven,” Miller said. “So how’d we get so far off course?”

  “Ain’t got a clue,” Bill admitted. “You’re going to have to ask Mimi that one.”

  » » »

  “Dimensional shift,” Mimi said. “Are you sure you want to talk about this now?”

  “When you’re talking I can concentrate on something besides my stomach,” Miriam said.

  “There are things you can take…” Mimi told her.

  “I’ve got really bad reactions to most drugs,” Miriam said. “Dimensional shift.”

  “There are multiple dimensions…”

  “Ten according to the last thing I read on it,” Miriam said.

  “Well, that depends on whose model you use. Dr. Weaver, Tuffy, and I could explain things better from eleven, but that is another story. I didn’t know you knew that much about topology and mathematical physics.” Mimi’s brow furrowed. “Do you have a doctorate in it?”

  “I don’t even have a doctorate in linguistics,” Miriam said, chuckling. “But that’s because I can’t stand school. I just hate sitting in class. But I read all the time and can do tensor calculus in my head.”

  “How many languages can you speak?” Mimi asked curiously.

  “Thirty-seven fluently,” Miriam said. “About ten more enough to get around. I generally take about thirty minutes to get to that point. Admiral Avery said that I was the first person he’d ever met better at languages than he was. I picked up Adar in about two hours. I was working with a scientific translation team when I got asked to go on this mission. They were willing to take me even though I have… issues because if we do run into an alien species… Well, the Adar were trying hard to get translation going when we first met them but we still have translation problems both ways. A totally alien species, especially one that’s not as interested in communicating as the Adar… Dimensional shift.”