The shuttle departed without incident, blasting ahead of the Cheyenne. The gas giant, meanwhile, was speeding toward them at 5 KPS. The shuttle would reach the planet roughly two and a half hours ahead of them. Patricia/PAT would help her identify and collect viable materials. This could actually work. It seemed like an impossible thought considering that one mere day ago they were dead meat. Not that he was quite ready to call it good luck – not when you considered the improbability of Animus being so vigorously protected. Why couldn't it just have been a regular planet on a destructive orbit? What were the odds?
The shuttle arrived at "GG" – Andrea's coinage for the giant gas planet – on schedule, aerobraking in the upper atmosphere to conserve fuel and swinging back around using the massive planet's gravity as a tether. Then it was an intricate balancing act of acceleration, deceleration, space rock harvest, and a full-burn race away from "GG" and the approaching Cheyenne to a rendezvous point three hundred and fifty KKM beyond the planet. By then, in theory, the Cheyenne's initial swift overtaking of the shuttle would've slowed by gravity and atmospheric resistance to the point where they'd be traveling the same speed.
Approximately the same speed won't work. The old saying, "close only counts with horsehoes and hand grenades" – something Zane's dad was fond of saying – would apply in spades here. A minuscule miscalculation could place the shuttle forever beyond their reach. The shuttle would be running on near-empty by the time it caught up with them, making last-minute adjustments difficult or impossible.
Patricia, both through Keira's mouth and the ship's speakers – occasionally they spoke at the same time when addressing different people - sounded confident. That tone of confidence, assuming Zane wasn't imagining it, was one of the few subtle differences that he thought he detected between Patricia and PAT. He sensed other differences, but found it difficult to put them into words.
He wasn't sure how to describe Patricia's personality, assuming it was real. The scuttlebutt was that Lance Spencer might've been anthropomorphizing in attributing consciousness to his new creation. The aggressive accessing of networks forbidden to her was supposed to confirm Dr. Spencer's claims of sentience, but more than a few people had argued for more plebeian possibilities. The fact was that no one could formally define sentience, so it was impossible to confirm. In the end, Dan Mueller claimed, you just had to rely on your own instincts or believe through faith.
"Despite what Dr. Know-It-All believes," Dan told Zane after their initial meeting with Lance Spencer, with an acrimony that suggested to a more than casual acquaintance with the brilliant AI researcher, "no one really knows what true consciousness looks like. We have no way of knowing if something besides an organic creature can even possess it. That's just an emotional stance by most AI scientists based on faith more than evidence or logic."
Zane wasn't sure what to believe. People a lot brighter than him assured him that sentient AI was inevitable. On the other hand, there weren't many people brighter than Dan Mueller. But then maybe he was speaking from a "love scorned" point of view?
Zane set aside his AI speculations when Patricia announced over the ship's speakers - while Keira's body was performing overhead presses on the Multi-Resistance Module - that Andrea had successfully achieved orbit just outside the main mass of objects circling GG. The shuttle had cozied up to one particularly promising chunk of rock and was jettisoning the ND Transport Module. Soon the hungry nanites would be feasting on a smorgasbord of iron, carbon, and silicates.
The repair class NDs could transport, ant-like, several times their basic weight in materials. A microscopic amount, but it added up when trillions of the miniature machines were involved. Trillions soon to be quadrillions as their maintenance protocols were raised to maximum reproduction. Usually, RCNDs maintained a stable population determined to be fifty percent more than necessary to keep a ship and all its systems healthy, but in times of need their population could be radically increased. The only limitation was food. All interstellar ships carried a store of ND and human rations. The difference was that NDs could feed off most space bodies.
The rock Andrea and Patricia had located proved to be particularly nutritious. As the Repair Class NDs gorged and replicated, Andrea maneuvered close to the rock and deployed the two Multi-Function Robotic Arms to slice off and secure five one hundred kilogram sections.
With the newly expanded ND army engorged with building materials, they returned to the ship in the transport module. Now came the exciting part, Zane thought. Though the Cheyenne's carbyne hull could withstand far more heat and physical force than NASA's traditional hulls composed of titanium, carbon-carbon, or ceramics, USSC's vortex-drive ships did not use – nor were they designed to use - traditional aerobraking or gravity-assist maneuvers. Zane could only recall two times that pilots of vortex craft had been forced by malfunctions to utilize those primitive options. Both times the ship and its crew had survived. No reason to think they wouldn't keep the string going.
Neither Patricia, Andrea, nor Dan thought the Cheyenne would have any trouble withstanding the 63 KPH thrust into GG's atmosphere or the gravity hit. But that collision was going to introduce some fairly kick-ass g-forces to the human beings on board. Normally, inertial dampening – the same systems that allowed classic UFOs/alien craft to stop on a dime and make 90 degree turns – would've rendered a twenty-second fourteen-g deceleration scarcely noticeable, but with that system offline the crew was now going to take the full hit.
Fortunately, the safety-minded engineers of Space Command had insisted on installing state-of-the-art backup crash harnesses in most of their fleet. They were essentially rugged coveralls secured by multiple micro-mesh bungee cords anchored by brackets embedded in the floor and ceiling. Strapped into the coveralls, they hung like spiders – or their prey – midways between the floor and ceiling in an interlocking web of incredibly strong cords that could stretch in any direction.
About an hour from the gas giant, they hooked up the web, suited up in the harnesses, and secured themselves in the equidistant crash stations. Andrea had begun her hard burn acceleration away from GG. The approximate hour head-start would, by Patricia's calculations, would place them at nearly the same speed by the time Cheyenne caught up with the shuttle some two hours and three hundred thousand kilometers later. With the shuttle's fuel depleted – one thing the RCNDs could not do was directly replenish fuel – any misstep would not only place it forever out of their reach but might just sentence the rest of the crew to death as well, depending on when and if Command sent a rescue ship.
When Cheyenne struck the giant planet's outer atmosphere the crew was stretched back from the center of the ship with a sharp clicking as the locking snaps were tugged tight. Zane felt he was in a slingshot being slowly drawn. The force was dissipated by the elastic cords and the heavily insulated coveralls. It wasn't so terrible, Zane thought – for the first few seconds. But as the hard deceleration deepened and the web reached its elastic limit, his discomfort built into real pain – the kind of full-body pain that made you question your survival.
Then they were through. The elastic bands slowly relaxed until they were hanging in the center of the main room once again.
"I knew there was a good reason I never went bungee-jumping," Dana wheezed.
Zane and his crew detached themselves from the web.
"Current speed, 36.89 KPS," Patricia announced from Keira's mouth. "We will reach the rendezvous point in 8.12 hours. The shuttle's projected speed at that time will be 36.91 KPS."
".02 KPS difference," said Dan. "That's what – fifty or sixty miles per hour?"
"47.738," said Patricia.
"That's not a problem, is it?" Dana asked, her voice tight with anxiety. "Will she have enough fuel to slow down make small docking adjustments?"
"My calculations show you will, with a 95% degree of accuracy."
"Ninety-five percent."
"This is going to work," said Zane.
It was a long eight
hours and change. Dana, Dan, and Malcolm played some distracted hands of bridge. Zane turned down Mallory's offer of a chess game, retiring to his bed and a dark room to de-stress and gather his thoughts while Patricia announced periodic updates on Andrea's approach.
The speed bump he'd been expecting came when one of the shuttle's forward ion jets failed on a final firing, leaving the shuttle about 30 KPH over their speed. Andrea was forced to spin around and use a side-thruster to reduce speed. That maneuver expended the remainder of the shuttle's fuel, and left the shuttle slightly off course – set to drift by at a relative speed of eight KPH, seven meters above the Cheyenne.
It was starting to look like horseshoes and hand grenades to Zane. He and Mallory donned EVA suits and went topside fifteen minutes before the shuttle was due to arrive. They hooked safety tethers to bracket mounts on the ship. All they had to do was accelerate to the shuttle's speed – their suits could propel at a top speed of fifteen KPH - and latch the tethers to one or two of the shuttle's many bracket loops. Worst case scenario, Andrea could evacuate the shuttle in her own EVA suit along with the ND Transport Module. As a last resort, the shuttle could, in theory, extend its 7.5 meter robotic arms and grab the mounting platform.
A cluster of white lights and a yellowish glow appeared off the stern of the ship, announcing the approach of the shuttle. Mallory and Zane rose twenty feet into the air, with a few meters between them, aiming to sandwich the shuttle. Soon they could see the lone figure of Andrea through the forward windows, and finally, the hopeful but concerned look on her face through her EVA suit visor. Patricia's calculations proved to be spot-on as the shuttle cruised over the Cheyenne between the two men at the speed of a slow jog. Zane and Mallory closed in as one, and snapped the heavy carabiner clips onto latches on either side of the shuttle. The tether unwound a few feet under mild braking until locking up. The shuttle halted with a slight jerk that barely moved Andrea in her seat.
Inside, champagne was uncorked and the crew toasted each other's survival and future prosperity as Patricia – even as she drank with them in Keira Quinn's body – oversaw the nanites' repairs on the telemetry and impulse drive systems. They would soon reverse course and return to GG, where all their restorative needs would be fulfilled in a matter of days and the ship would be fully operational.
If anyone was worried about what they'd hear from Command, only Dan Mueller's off-hand remark, "I wonder if our masters will consider the nuclear option or pull something else out of Lance Spencer's egomaniacal sleeves."
From the small darkening of the festive grins, Zane knew he wasn't the only one who had some misgivings about further antagonizing Animus.
"Whatever it takes," said Mallory, raising his drink, ice in his eyes. "We're not gonna let a bunch of fucking space-locusts keep us from saving the human race."
Chapter 5
U.S. SPACE COMMAND'S reply arrived 25 hours and seventeen minutes after Zane had sent their communiqué. Colonel Tom Hurtle gave the message on behalf of Fleet Admiral Frederico Sanchez, after brief consultation with the Space Advisory Council, President Elkton, and his Chiefs of Staff.
"Captain Cameron and Crew, it is very good indeed to hear from you. We weren't optimistic when regular transmissions from you and the Peacemaker suddenly ceased without explanation.
"Please accept USSC's deepest regrets over the death of Chief Medical Officer, Keira Quinn. Keira exemplified the finest Fleet traditions of selfless service, bravery, and devotion to her crewmates. She will be missed terribly.
"I can only imagine the shock of learning that her death coincided with the birth of a new entity which now is controlling Keira's body. But perhaps in this way her sacrifice may continue to benefit the crew and mission that she so loved."
Hearing those words was for Zane a fresh dash of salt in an open wound he hadn't had a spare moment to tend. He noted the concerned glances of the others – even Mallory wore a semi-sympathetic expression – but it was Patricia staring at him with Keira's green-blue eyes that caught his attention. He'd had plenty of surreal moments with her since awakening in a wounded ship, but seeing what appeared to be a strangely Keira-like sympathy in her eyes rivaled the surrealism of that first waking moment. Despite her theoretical sentience, Zane found it impossible to believe that Patricia was capable of feeling anything remotely like Keira, if she in fact had feelings.
"We have examined the brief recording of the attack that PAT – or Patricia, as I understand she prefers – managed to preserve," Colonel Hurtle continued. "We haven't had time to analyze it yet. That will be a full-time project from this point forth. We have attempted communications with the Zetis and Alphas on the subject of Animus given our new information. As you know, they offered neither assistance nor information when the subject was raised with them before, so we're not optimistic on that score.
"Nor are we optimistic, I'm saddened to say, about the fate of the Peacemaker and its crew. We've heard nothing from them, and no sign at all of the ship. All we have are theories – the main one being that Animus's guardians did not exercise the same restraint they apparently did with your ship and crew, Captain Cameron. They obliterated it in some way that avoided a MAME detonation, which would've left detectable traces. The other possibility – that the Peacemaker jumped before it could be destroyed – doesn't square with the lack of communication. Possibly it jumped and was destroyed when it emerged. It's all theory at this point. We simply don't know.
"However, we believe we have a sound solution to the threat posed by Animus and its apparently formidable defensive forces. Pending further analysis of the alien threat, we have decided to pursue the 'nuclear option' – remotely directing the destroyer Journeyer at maximum SC Superluminal drive the entire distance to Animus and deploying it from hyperspace two thousand kilometers from the planet/spacecraft. The energy accumulation released on emergence, I am assured, will be sufficient to completely destroy all physical bodies within twenty million miles and cause substantial damage out to fifty million. It is anticipated that the Journeyer will be rendered either inoperable or destroyed itself. Despite all failsafe MAM containment measures, if the Journeyer is sufficiently damaged an anti-matter breach will occur. If that doesn't happen, however, we may ask you to do everything reasonable to make it operational again.
"So your role, should we proceed with this mission – tentatively named Operation Backwash - will be to observe and confirm the destruction of Animus. From a safe distance, needless to say.
"We choose to believe your planned mission will prove successful. Given that, when you're fully operational you will maneuver approximately one AU from Animus. If we proceed with Operation Backwash, you will fly to the site after the Journeyer arrives and confirm the destruction of Animus. If the Journeyer is not destroyed, we will ask you to attempt to restore it to flight capability, if possible. Trillion dollar black budget space ships don't grow on trees, I've been told."
Colonel Hurtle offered a rather pasty smile.
"Please keep us apprised of your repair mission. We will have more for you in the next communication, of course, regarding Animus.
"Thank you for your service, Captain Cameron and crew. You have upheld the highest traditions of the Fleet under the most dire of circumstances. I pray for your success and the success of our upcoming mission."
A few seconds of silence followed the message.
"As expected," Dan Mueller murmured.
"Patricia," said Zane, not looking at her, "when do you expect our SC drive to be operational?"
"13.4 hours, Captain Cameron."
"How long would it take the Journeyer to reach here at maximum uninterrupted warp?"
"6.24 hours, sir."
"Open a channel to Command."
"Yes, sir."
Zane took a few moments to gather his thoughts.
"Colonel Hurtle and Admiral Sanchez. Good to hear from you, too. Andrea was successful in obtaining building material for the RNDs and rendezvousing with the ship. We a
re now in orbit around the gas giant where the repair process should be completed in fourteen hours or so. We will send a message when repairs are finished and then, per your orders, jump an AU from Animus, where we will await your next communication."
Zane paused, looking to the others for further input. He received mostly shrugs.
"I'd like to know why our supposed alien friends won't knock Animus out of its destructive course," Dana spoke up. "I can't believe they aren't capable of that and that we didn't ask."
"Good point," said Mallory. "My first guess is they don't give a flying fuck about Earth."
"What's your second guess?" asked Dan.
"My second guess is they don't want to mess with whoever that steel ball belongs to."
Zane stood up and paced around the room, stretching his arms and lower back. He was due for a hard workout or something tension-relieving.
"I wonder if the guardians will have a defense against 'Operation Backwash'," said Malcolm.
Dan shook his head. "I don't see any way they can defend against the accumulated energy burst from a continuous six-hour SCSD 2 flight. They'd have to stop the ship en route."
"We didn't see any way they could defend against Spencer's NDs," Mallory growled.
"Touché."
"I guess we'll find out soon enough," said Zane.
THE MOMENT of truth.
They had withdrawn a bit over 93 million miles from Animus, in orbit around a large asteroid roughly half the mass of the moon, which was dragging them along with it at 30 KPS back in the general direction as a small fuel-saving measure.
The Journeyer, now approaching "hell for leather" at 1.78 light speed, was scheduled to arrive in twenty-three minutes. The nine probes on the planet were no longer operational, but the Cheyenne's long-range telemetry showed no sign of activity on the planet. The Guardians seemed to have, as Mallory put it, "returned to their cubbyholes."
Animus Intercept Page 6
