Analog SFF, July-August 2006

by Dell Magazine Authors

  “Then please get to the point.” And belying his own words, “Can I get you something?"

  “I want to go on the flight tomorrow,” Art said.

  “Yes, well, so do many people, and the seating is limited. You were on a vacation joyride recently, weren't you? Io, I believe."

  “That's irrelevant. This is about—"

  “I have chosen, and you are not going.” Art blinked. Chung was never this direct. “Do you know why that lifeboat went straight from the Kuiper Belt to Himalia? Why I must fly to Himalia to accept the ship on the UP's behalf?"

  “As a token of appreciation they've invited some of the scientists and technicians that have worked most closely with them. Himalia is more convenient for most of them.” Final approach of the lifeboat, and everything to do with it, had been all over the news as UP escort ships paced it to its landing.

  “Hardly.” Chung stared at him. “I am going to share something the Foremost told me in confidence. ‘That is the ship whose interstellar drive has been demonstrated. It will go directly to the most secure facility in the Jupiter system. I will not have Dr. Walsh accuse me of bait and switch.'

  “In short, Dr. Walsh, your rude skepticism has offended our guests. I will not further insult our K'vithian friends through your ill-mannered presence. Consider yourself persona non grata. Now if you will excuse me, I have an early flight tomorrow."

  * * * *

  Gleaming consoles in front of rows of command seats. Soft-spoken crew working their way down their preflight checklist. Radio chatter with space-traffic control. In a way, this was like the bridge of every vessel Eva had ever seen. And in another way....

  Finally, she was on a starship!

  “Amazing, isn't it?” she whispered to Ambassador Chung. His nod lacked enthusiasm. He obviously cherished the right and the perk to participate in the turnover of the interstellar-capable lifeboat. Just as plainly, being aboard held no intrinsic interest for him. Too bad he was like that—many would have loved his place on the flight. Art, for one. She had missed him today at breakfast, despite the bon voyage dinner he had insisted upon. Art could be sweet.

  “Bit of a cold fish, isn't he?"

  It took Eva a moment to switch mental gears. He meant Chung. In her mind's eye, an avatar winked. It belonged to Corinne Elman, the pool reporter seated on Chung's other side. As the two women netted, more of the group filed in and buckled into their seats. Eva knew most of the guests from other visits to Himalia: antimatter experts and theorists with whom she had worked on hypothetical interstellar drives.

  Eva had half-expected to wind up sitting on the floor, but the lifeboat had chairs and adequate headroom for humans. To Art's surprise, the Snakes had promised a shirtsleeves environment. All the passengers’ spacesuits were now neatly stowed in cabinets, and they had full view of the controls and crew operations through a crystal-clear partition.

  Truthfully, not much so far had met her expectations. A handful of Snakes, their flight crew, had been on the UP ship from Callisto. The lifeboat itself had arrived at Himalia on autopilot. Chung seemed unsurprised to find its airlock locked when their group arrived, muttering about cynics who made life too complicated.

  The Himalia scientists by electronic consensus nominated her to ask the question topmost in everyone's mind. Fair enough. She had had more dealings with the Snakes than anyone aboard but Chung, and they could not silently consult a humanist. “Lothwer, everyone is wondering when we will be taking off.” “Soon, Dr. Gutierrez.” Lothwer's eyes glazed briefly, presumably confirming status. “We need only to finish integration of the traffic-control transponder. Safety first."

  And for reasons of safety first, all substantive questions were deferred until they reached uncrowded surroundings. Operations were easier to demonstrate than describe, Lothwer told them, and the controls would be demonstrated in free flight. Fine, she had waited this long to get onto a K'vithian vessel; she could wait a little longer.

  At last, all was ready. Lothwer said a few words. Chung said many words. They boosted slowly, a holo display showing them cautiously making their way past layers of UP warships on patrol.

  Surely by now they were far enough out. “Lothwer, I think I speak for my colleagues in suggesting.... “She stopped in confusion as her neural linkup dissolved in a burst of static. Mutters and soft curses all around said the failure was not limited to her implant. A suppressor field? Like what was used in prisons?

  She was still pondering that odd impression when a soft hissing sound from the air vents penetrated her awareness. Next to her, Chung slumped in his seat. For an instant she felt weary and confused.

  Then she felt nothing.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 28

  “To recap what we now know, an unexplained catastrophe has occurred in the Jovian system, centered on Himalia. This moon is, was, home to the recently disclosed top-secret UP antimatter program. From the incredible magnitude of the destruction—the very world of Himalia has shattered into three large pieces and innumerable shards—experts now theorize that an antimatter explosion was the root cause of the event. Tremendous loss of life among the scientific community on Himalia appears almost certain."

  Around Art, the bridge crew of Actium was all focused attention and intense whispers. A data fusion from multiple sensors filled the tactical display. Glowing fragments of the shattered moon dominated in IR. Dense clouds of dust and debris continued to stymie radar and lidar. Just outside the blast zone, identified by their traffic-control icons, hung a small armada of Galilean naval vessels and hospital ships awaiting clearance to enter. Smaller holos were dedicated to media 3-V coverage, but distance and thick clouds of dust rendered their telescopic images all but useless.

  “Compounding the tragedy, the shock wave, an intense burst of radiation, and shrapnel from the blast have crippled the UP fleet which had been securing the top-secret facility. None of the few ships to have reestablished radio contact remain flight-capable, and all report significant casualties. Ironically, one victim of the disaster was the K'vithian lifeboat bartered to the UP for antimatter. That small boat was on its final approach to Himalia following a demonstration cruise for UP scientists and dignitaries when the moon detonated."

  Eva had been so excited about her spot on the lifeboat demo, since she'd never gotten onto Victorious. Art remembered thinking how cute she was being. Now cute seemed such a disrespectful last memory. She and so many others were gone, their bodies adrift in an expanding volume of debris, perhaps shredded beyond all recognition. His imagination insisted on strewing the dead across a stony red landscape.

  Carlos Montoya plopped into a chair beside Art. “You look about as shitty as I feel.” Part of that comment was sincere sympathy. More of it was: You're in charge now, so get a grip.

  Would Chung have seen the irony, Art wondered. The ambassador's blacklisting had left him the senior member of the delegation. Or maybe Art should credit an ability to piss people off so highly developed it crossed species boundaries. “Sadly, I feel as crappy as you look."

  A video crawler made clear he was watching Interplanetary News Net, but Art didn't recognize the voiceover. The famous Corinne Elman was the pool reporter aboard the Snake lifeboat. With the secrets of both antimatter and an interstellar drive to be protected, anything she was going to netcast about this ride was to have been cleared first by UPIA censors. Whatever she knew had died with her.

  Victorious swelled in the main holo. At the time of the accident, it had been moving slowly to the outer reaches of the Jovian system. The starship had not changed course since, and its acceleration remained low. Messages had been exchanged, expressions of condolence and puzzlement, but light-speed delay from major settlements had been making consultation with the K'vithians impractical.

  Actium had no difficulty overtaking it. Art struggled for words beyond Eva is gone, but he had a job to do. “Foremost, on behalf of the United Planets and for myself personally, I am here to extend deepest sympathies
for K'vithian losses in the recent accident. May we come aboard?” Will you order the docking platform despun so we can land?

  “There is no need, Doctor. Your message is acknowledged."

  That was abrupt even by Snake standards. Art stared back at the image on screen. “Respectfully, Foremost, there are matters to discuss. Most pressingly, we wish to make arrangements for K'vithian participation in a UP inquest.” And, whispered some insensitive but practical corner of his mind, to discuss obtaining another lifeboat for study.

  “Respectfully, Dr. Walsh, I see no need to participate in an inquest. The miracle is that such a catastrophe had not already befallen your antimatter program. We have previously shared our misgivings about your ... technology."

  What would Chung have made of that response? To Art, the Foremost's attitude was insulting and sarcastic. “May I ask your plans?"

  “We lost crew in the unfortunate accident en route to this solar system. This recent debacle took the lives of more, including technical specialists Victorious can ill afford to be without. My plans, therefore, are to rendezvous with our few auxiliary vessels not presently aboard. Then we will depart at once. And before you ask: We can spare no more lifeboats."

  Art tried to put himself in Mashkith's place: many years from home, after two losses of crew. Yes, he'd be anxious to head for home, but this anxious to leave? “If you wait for a while, I anticipate human volunteers could augment your crew."

  “No, thank you.” And with equal abruptness, the connection was cut.

  * * * *

  Helmut stared blankly at, or perhaps beyond, the radar display. He was too weary, too shocked, too mad, to distinguish. Somehow he needed to focus, though, because the autopilot was never designed to deal with space junk whizzing by at the speeds of most Himalia fragments.

  Corinne was dead.

  He was alone in space en route to Ganymede, to another new name and new life. Why did an old life have to end yet again in tragedy?

  He was beyond coffee, beyond the stimulants in the autodoc. He knew better than to start with the booze that called out to him.

  Corinne was on the Snake lifeboat because she got the pool assignment, and she no doubt got the pool assignment because she was the best. See where it got her.

  Deep down, he knew what was eating at him. On this very bridge, he had gotten her the scoop. Would she have become the star reporter for all things Snake without his timely intervention? His unending paranoia?

  Would she still be alive if not for him?

  The continuous media coverage whispered softly in the background. Long years as a solo prospector had honed a knack for balancing diversion with distraction; without effort he tuned out the repetitions and uninformed speculations. His ear homed in on the subtle warble that preceded a news alert. The Foremost would be making an announcement from his ship.

  He turned it up, more from habit than from interest. The Snakes had declared an end to the first interstellar visit. Victorious was seriously shorthanded after two accidents, and the UP at this time of great tragedy did not need the “interruption” of the aliens’ continued presence. Claiming pressing duties associated with preparation for departure, Mashkith took no questions.

  Like much the K'vithians had to say, the announcement was short and sweet. And unconvincing. He muted the broadcasts that continued streaming past Odyssey. Any further alert tones would override. What was bothering him? What, that is, besides Corinne's death, and all those other deaths, and fleeing the scene while almost every other ship in the Jovian system converged on what remained of Himalia to render whatever help they could.

  Victorious was the other major exception to the rule. Maybe that was what bothered him. The people of this solar system had greeted these visitors with open arms. Moved nearer to the disaster, the starship with its vast stockpiles would be a natural base of operations for the rescuers. He had a reason to run away like a thief in the night, but....

  Helmut squeezed weary eyes in concentration, baffled. So the often inscrutable Snakes were inscrutably not helping. Did that surprise him? What could possibly be driving his suspicions?

  To hell with the Snakes and his personal situation. Spacers helped spacers. A hi-gee course correction re-vectored Odyssey toward Leda, where one of the improvised evacuation flotillas was converging. Leda, Lysithea, and Elara: all basically co-orbited with Himalia, sharing the same oddly inclined orbital plane. All four were thought to be fragments of a large asteroid long ago captured by Jupiter. Now Leda, Lysithea, and Elara basically shared their orbit with a meteor shower, soon enough another ring for the great planet.

  His ongoing struggle to understand the Snakes could wait.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 29

  Visualizations in holo tanks, files on the ship's tactical network, downloads to his implant, even strata of hardcopy scribbles burying the wardroom tables ... information in countless forms surrounded Art. Sensor data from the surviving near-in picket ships. Crew depositions from the same. Simulations of blast dynamics, inferred from radar tracks of selected fragments. Contemporaneous measurements from observatories and ships across the solar system.

  Why, Art wondered, can't I pull it all together?

  Carlos and Keizo took turns looking in on him. It must be first watch again, because now both colleagues appeared.

  “Jesus,” Carlos said. “You're still up? You have got to get some rest."

  “Morning.” Standing to get more coffee, Art almost fell. The only positive thing about Victorious and its slo-mo departure was that Actium was keeping pace for now. Acceleration meant drinking coffee from a cup, not a squeeze bulb. “Oops. My leg was asleep."

  Keizo reached across the table for Art's mug. “Just walk it off. I'll refill this."

  “This isn't very ambassadorial, you know.” Carlos peered into the graphics in which Art kept trying to organize the data into something—anything—meaningful. “I'll explain again, in short sentences. You need sleep. It's okay to sleep. The Snakes don't want to talk. Mashkith responds the same way to all queries: He's too busy readying his ship for departure to chat. With Lothwer gone, he'll stay busy. And uncommunicative."

  So, Art, stop being stubborn. “I'm convinced there's a big picture here we're not seeing. Somehow, this whole situation makes sense.” It must.

  Carlos slapped the table. “You want the big picture? Fine. Our Snake buddies had a close call, a major scare, on their way here. A few months later they were up close and personal with Himalia for refueling. A few days later it blew. That second brush with disaster is what spooked them, not the few casualties they took on the lifeboat."

  “I don't believe that,” Art said. “I can't imagine anything rattling Mashkith."

  “Perhaps not. I don't delude myself that I can think like him.” Keizo looked at the refilled mug in his hand. “Regardless, more coffee is not what you need now."

  Art allowed himself to be led to his cabin, but sleep refused to come.

  * * * *

  Actium was neither smaller nor more crowded than on his previous visits. Somehow, it was more oppressive. Art paced its corridors, hoping the change of scenery, at least, would do some good.

  The clear blue sky above the azure Mediterranean might have been a lifetime ago. Jupiter growing and growing and growing, until there was nothing else in the universe but clouds and the thunderous roar of the scoopship's hypersonic plunge—that had been a few short weeks ago. It, too, might as well have been another existence.

  Big scenery. Big picture. Both eluded him. “Complexity is nature's way of saying: ‘You're asking the wrong question.’”

  Judging from the passing crewman's double take, he had said it aloud. Talking to yourself had to be bad form from the head of mission, even an acting head. Still, the statement was true. Understanding things sometimes involved details, but details should refine understanding, not obscure it. Titanic: arrogance amid fog and ice. Challenger: O-rings turned brittle by cold. Barsoom dome: decades of
wind-born dust abraded the anti-UV coating and accelerated aging of the plasteel material.

  The long-ago sightseeing rocketplane: a fuel pump rebuilt with a substandard pressure-reduction valve.

  What simple statement explained Himalia?

  * * * *

  Thirty minutes on a treadmill, warm milk, or total exhaustion—at last one of them kicked in, and Art didn't care which. He slept. When he eventually awoke, it was well into the third watch. Fortified by twelve hours sleep and a long shower, he ordered a huge breakfast delivered to the wardroom he had commandeered for his office.

  The tray made better time to the office than he did. Sipping piping-hot coffee, he found the status displays little changed. Victorious was a little farther from Jupiter, Actium tagging along like a servant or supplicant. Evacuation fleets swarmed Leda, Lysithea, and Elara. Conjecture and data, their boundary indistinct, swamped the infosphere.

  One thread of infosphere speculation had been flagged by an aide, “for your amusement.” Rather than laugh, what Art read made time stand still as his thoughts turned some heretofore unseen corner....

  * * * *

  Unification: the long-sought physical theory that would conjoin gravity with the other three fundamental forces: electromagnetic, weak nuclear interaction, and strong nuclear interaction.

  Cosmologists have long believed that for a very brief interval following the Big Bang, the four forces were, in fact, indistinguishable. Unification of three forces into the so-called Grand Unified Force under early-universe conditions has been experimentally validated. The energy density at which gravity separates from the other three is not reproducible, nor has it existed since approximately 10-43 second after the Big Bang.

  —Internetopedia

  * * * *

  The sanctum sanctorum of any ship is its captain's cabin, reason enough to hold a top-secret summit here. Aaron O'Malley, skipper of Actium, was another. O'Malley was among the youngest masters in the UP Navy, the youngest to hold command of a cruiser. He was renowned throughout the fleet for tactical brilliance, intuitive leaps, and wild idiosyncrasy. His face (or as unsubstantiated whispers would have it, his skin from head to toe) was lined with nanornaments. It was not hard for Art to guess the mood that went with today's lightning-bolt tattoos.