Chapter 6
Peggy Sue, Alter-space Day 7
A week into the voyage, the various members of the crew had come to know one another well enough to operate the ship smoothly. There was, however, still a divide between those who had sailed on the Peggy Sue before and those on board for the first time. Aside from the officers, the veterans included Chief Zackly, Hitch and Jacobs. A second pool of experience was found in the Marines. Rosey Acuna and Herman “Kato” Kwan had been on board during the earliest voyages. Add to them Umky, Vincent DeSilva, and Dmitry Boskovitch, who had been Marines on the Great Alien Hunt.
Being Marines, they started doing PT—physical training—from the first day out of port. Every morning, they did calisthenics, practiced hand-to-hand combat techniques, and ran in the cargo hold. A number of the officers joined them in this activity, including First Officer Melaku, Sailing Master Danner, Science Officer Ogawa, and, not least of all, Captain Vincent. Participation by the old hands soon shamed most of the new crewmembers and the science staff into joining the daily activity, at least the running.
Among the new crew were a number of sailors and submariners. Fred Smith, Lou Wright, and Tommy Chen came from the American Navy, all having served in submarines. Tamara Wilson, Jay Taylor, and Sam Sheffield served in the navies of Canada, Australia, and the UK, respectively, while Katrin “Kate” Hamm was off a German Antarctic research vessel and Kashimawo Ademola from a Nigerian registered supertanker. Also new were Chief Engineer Arinbjörn Baldursson and the other two engineer's mates, whose quarters were aft by the engineering spaces.
It was tradition aboard the Peggy Sue for the crew to have a small libation at the end of the afternoon watch, before going to the mess for dinner. Except for those on watch on the bridge or in the engine room, the enlisted crew were lounging about the day room, enjoying a beer or a glass of wine, waiting for dinner to be announced.
“So far, this has been less eventful than sailing on the sea,” said Kate.
“I told you all, nothing much happens in alter-space except drills,” said Steve Hitch, playing the wise veteran.
“It's almost like being on patrol in a boomer,” said Fred Smith, “but a damn site more comfortable.”
“You got that right, Mate. Even the Aussie Navy didn't have a cocktail hour while underway,” added Jay Taylor.
“Trust me,” said Matt Jacobs, “things will get much more exciting when we get to where we are going.”
“You know something we don't?” asked Kate.
“Just that every other voyage on the Peggy Sue has served up more adventure than you can imagine,” said Stevie.
“Or want,” added Kato Kwan, to which Rosey just grunted. Rosey had been keeping a low profile since she had been given The Word by the First Officer.
“Is that why everyone on this ship is running around like fitness nuts?” asked Fred. “Sailing the ship doesn't seem like such a demanding pastime to me.”
“Just wait,” said Kato, “one minute you'll be safe and sound on board ship and the next you'll be fighting plasma shooting cyborgs or sex crazed giant insects with swords and axes who would just love to use your abdomen to incubate their eggs.”
“Really?” asked Tamara.
“The man doesn't lie. That's why Matt and I joined the PT sessions from the git go.”
“Yeah,” said Matt, “and trust me, Stevie is normally one lazy SOB. If he feels it's a wise idea to stay in shape you newbies should take notice.”
“What about it, Rosey?” asked Kate, seeking another female's opinion, “you were on the earlier voyages.”
Rosey looked at the German woman for a moment, shrugged and said, “I figure it's better to run your ass off on board than to get it blown off by some alien later because you're out of shape.”
Rosey got up and went over to the booze locker, the storage unit that held supplies of beer, wine and other potables. Regardless of preference, the daily booze ration was limited to two drinks a day that could not be saved for a later time.
“I notice that even the officers participate, particularly in combat training,” Tamara added, “including the First Officer. From what I've heard, she is tough enough without practice.”
“Don't know about that,” said Kato, “But a buddy of mine was on a cruiser she captained—totally by the book and hard as woodpecker lips, but she knows her business.”
The assembled crew all nodded in agreement—gossiping about the ship's officers was a long standing tradition on naval vessels.
“What is with that oriental woman and the flock of insects that follow her around?” asked Kashimawo Ademola.
“Now there in lies a tale, my Nigerian friend,” began Stevie.
“That isn't just a flock of butterflies, it's actually an alien creature, Kashi,” said Matt, beating his friend to the punch. “Stevie and I were there when she acquired it, er, them.”
“Bollocks! I think you two are full of it,” said Jay.
“Don't take our word,” Stevie replied. “Acuna was there too, weren't you Rosey?”
“Yes,” Rosey said, sitting back down after fetching a second beer. “I've seen those cute little butterflies electrocute a man sized alien, and I've seen Dr. O slice through three charging multi-armed maggot creatures with that sword of hers. A word to the wise, do not fuck with the butterflies, or Dr. Ogawa.”
“OK, and the other officers?”
“They all have experience handling warships, fighting in space armor and making contact with aliens,” Matt answered. “You may not like 'em at first, but they are probably the best bunch of officers you could find—assuming you want to return from this little jaunt.”
“I want to know about the bears,” said Jay, “I don't much care for being trapped on board a ship with 'em. What if we run out of food? They'll eat us just like a pack of dingos.”
“Bullshit,” said Kato, “I've fought beside bears on a number of occasions and was damned glad they were on our side.”
“I have heard that they even eat each other in the wild,” said Kashi.
“How would you know?” Stevie retorted. “You and Jay aren't even from the same hemisphere as polar bears.”
“But I am, eh?” said Tamara. Being Canadian, she too had misgivings about being in such close proximity to the large carnivores, and she had some idea of how dangerous polar bears could be.
“Well, speak of the devil and up he jumps,” said Matt. Ambling into the day room from the forward passageway was Umky, all 600 kilograms of him.
“What are you primates yammering about?” the white bear said as he headed for the booze locker. Though a polar bear's most acute sense was smell, there was nothing wrong with Umky's hearing.
“What brings you to the day room, Umky?” asked Stevie, “we don't normally see you here.”
Umky swung his huge head around to look over his shoulder at the assembled humans. He made a point of sniffing the air twice, black nostrils flaring, as if to register the humans' scents. Before answering he turned back to the locker where he fished out a couple of two liter jugs containing dark liquid. These he clipped to his utility harness—being a quadruped made it difficult to carry things.
“Just passing through,” Umky replied, closing the locker, “picking up a couple of blackberry brandies before relaxing in the bear quarters—gotta hurry before Ahnah, she bitch of the Arctic, gets out of the science staff meeting and beats me to the pool.”
With the two jugs dangling from his harness, Umky headed toward the cargo hold and the polar bear quarters beyond. “You primates take care,” he said in departure, winking as he passed by Matt and Stevie.
“Hey, Umky,” said Stevie, picking up on the bear's signal, “some of the new crewmembers were asking about your gastronomical preferences. You wouldn't eat a crewmate would you, even if we ran out of supplies?”
Umky stopped and looked back at the collection of anxious sailors. Again the bear sniffed the air.
“Of course not, I would never eat
a crewmate.”
Relief could be seen on the faces of Jay, Kashi and Tamara as Umky continued aft. Just as he went through the door he added, “unless I was really hungry.”
ESS Fortune, Outbound from Farside
The day finally came when the three disparate flocks of colonists boarded the ship that was to take them to a new home circling a distant star. The name of that ship was Fortune, the name of the second English ship to arrive at Plymouth Colony in the New World, one year after the voyage of the Pilgrim ship Mayflower. She was of utilitarian design, a 200 meter cylinder rounded off at either end. Her cabins had more than enough space for the 173 colonists and her hold accommodated their livestock and supplies with room to spare.
On Fortune's outer hull three sizable shuttles were docked, capable of ferrying a hundred people at a time to a planet's surface, fewer with a mix of cargo and passengers. The ship was manned by a crew of twelve: a captain, a navigator, an engineer, three pilots for the shuttles, and six deckhands. The passengers, having been trained on the ship's galley and laundry facilities, were expected to fend for themselves during the voyage. The crew would remain locked in the forward section until planet fall, baring any emergencies.
Two days out from Farside, the colonists were still settling into their spartan accommodations. Shadi and Dorri were in a room with six other girls, where they would be confined during most of the journey. The sisters would have preferred to be in the shared lounge for their deck, with its large viewing screens, but the lounge was filled with men—women, particularly young single women, were not allowed. They could only venture forth, fully swathed in their hijabs, to cook for the men and then carry their own food back to their rooms.
Fortunately, their single room prison had its own bathroom and each bunk possessed a viewing screen. Most of the girls showed no interest in the screen units, having no idea how to operate them. Shadi and Dorri, however, knew about things like computers and the internet. Shadi was quickly able to bring up a floor plan for the ship and information about the voyage.
“We are going to be stuck on this ship for almost a month,” she said to her sister in Farsi.
“Why does it take so long? Even a plane trip halfway around the world only used to take a day.”
“Evidently we have already traveled a distance many times that of going around the world and are lining up to go some place called 'alter-space'. It will take 22 days in alter-space to get to our new star, and several days in normal space after that before we can land on the planet.”
“Another month of this?” said a girl from the facing bunks. “Why do I feel so heavy? I felt light as a feather before we got on the ship.”
“That's because the ship is at standard Earth gravity,” replied Shadi. “The Moon's gravity is only one sixth that of home.”
“Well I don't like it,” the other said petulantly.
“Get use to it, it is only going to get worse. The planet we are going to has a gravity that is a third stronger than this. During the trip the ship's gravity will slowly increase to get us use to our new home.”
“How do you know all this? Are you just making this up?”
Shadi considered telling the girl that all that information and more was available through the access screen in her bunk, but then hesitated. If it got back to the Imam he might forbid the use of the devices, so instead she said, “I heard some of the men talking when we were boarding.”
Her sister looked at her and raised an eyebrow. In English she said, “smart not to tell the others about the data screens—they probably couldn't use them anyway.”
“Yes, don't tell anyone else. If you find things you want to read you better do it now. I doubt there will be any such devices when we get to our destination.”
Peggy Sue, Emergence Gliese 667A
Sam Shepard, Tommy Chen and Jimmy Tosh were unpacking a stellar surveillance satellite from its shipping crate under the watchful eye of Chief Zackly. Deck gravity in the cargo hold was reduced to a tenth of Earth normal to make the 500kg space craft easier to handle.
“Move it slowly, yous deck apes! It may not weigh much but it still has mass.”
“Aye, aye, Chief,” said Tommy, not really understanding the Chief's point.
“That means, if you get it moving fast, it'll be just as hard to stop as on Earth,” Sam added, “so take it easy, mates.”
“Yous guys turn this space widget into a broke-dick we'll have to get the bilge rats to fix it before it can be launched,” added the Chief. “And if we cause a delay we'll all be on the Captain's shit list.”
“What is dis ting for, mon?” asked the Jamaican cook, who had been pressed into service to help ready the probe for launch.
“Dr. Ogawa wants us to put this in orbit around the first star we come to,” the old Chief said. “As fer what it does it's PFM.”
The crewmen carefully landed the metallic dodecahedron on a hover sled and strapped it down. The satellite needed to be taken to an ejection port on third deck, which meant moving it forward to the cargo lift against the forward cargo hold bulkhead. As they carefully moved the hefty payload the men conversed.
“I understand how most of us got on this mission,” Sam said, “but how did you find yourself aboard, Jimmy?”
“I still be tryin' to figure that out, mon. I was visitin' some friends in Colorado when all Babylon exploded—fire rained down on Jah's creation and I only lived because I was in de mountains. Bamba yay, I brought to de Moon with a bunch of other survivors a few months later. I went from Rocky Mountain high to I and I Moon base.”
“Right, mate. But how did you get on the crew?” Sam repeated. “Most of crew were sailors of one kind or another, but you seem like some tosser who just wandered on board before we cast off.”
“Hey mon! I be a good cook and de Captain like Jamaican food,” replied Jimmy. “In fact, I was savin' money to open I own restaurant back on de Moon. It was going to serve Italian-Jamaican fusion cuisine.”
“Italian-Jamaican?” said Tommy. “I can't even imagine what that would be like.”
“It be great, mon! Jerk chicken fettuccine, conch Marsala, all sorts of great combinations—I was going to name de place The Pasta Rasta.”
“What?”
“Pasta Rasta. As in pasta with a Rastafari twist.”
“The only thing I've seen you twist up is a spliff,” said Tommy.
“Ya mon! But only a Jamaican spliff made wit ganja, no jackass rope. True Rastas don' smoke tobacco, only God's plants.”
“I thought that Rastafari were also vegetarians; how can you cook meat dishes for the crew?”
“Ital eatin' varies widely from Rasta to Rasta; food only need be pure, clean and natural.”
“So why aren't you back at Farside, working on your restaurant?” Sam pressed.
“Well, you see, I had some financial difficulties. I hopin' that de profits from dis trip will pay off I creditors and let I start de restaurant.”
“Right,” said Tommy and Sam in unison.
“All right, quit yer yappin' and pay attention on the cargo lift,” the Chief ordered as the elevator platform rose, headed up to deck three.
* * * * *
On the bridge all stations reported ready as the Captain and crew prepared for emergence—the transition from alter-space back to normal 3-space. There was really nothing for the crew to do during the transition—the ship's computer handled all necessary adjustments to the engines, shields and deck gravity—but you never know what might greet you when suddenly popping into being in a strange star system.
The klaxon sounded and the computer's voice announced, “transition to 3-space in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.”
The panels in the ship's nose went from opaque to transparent as the normal Universe shimmered into existence outside. Directly ahead was a star, orangish and slightly cooler than the Sun, though it looked as large as the Earthlings' native star. This was because the arrival transfer point was closer to GJ667A than the departure point was fr
om the more massive Sun—linked transfer points have complementary spacetime curvature.
“Mr. Lewis, lay in a course to bring her about,” Billy Ray ordered. “Notify the Chief when we are properly positioned to release the stellar observation satellite, then line us up for the jump to 667C.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
“Dr. Ogawa, please reconfirm the transit calculations with the ship's computer. I wish to spend as brief a time around this star as possible, but missing the transit point on the first pass would be even worse.”
“Yes, Captain,” Mizuki answered. “It will take at least six hours to get properly positioned. I will have refined parameters well before we are on the final vector.”
* * * * *
A little over six hours later the Peggy Sue had altered course and was on an outbound trajectory. That trajectory was a line joining GJ667A and 667C, suitably corrected for the time lag incurred by light from the target star. Though part of the same stellar system, it took light more than thirty hours to travel from A to C. The Earth ship was about to make the same trip in fewer than five minutes.
This transit would be the shortest, and quickest, ever made by an Earth ship. Such a brief excursion into alter-space required the utmost care with its entry parameters; the course and velocity must be spot on or, when the computer tried to trigger the transition to alter-space, nothing would happen. Even worse, they could enter alter-space on a trip to some unintended destination. Mizuki had triple checked the parameters and passed them to Bobby, who was manning the helm himself for this maneuver.
“We are ready for the transit, Captain,” Bobby reported.
“We are tracking all parameters accurately?”
“One hundred percent balls on accurate, Sir,” Bobby replied with a smile. In years past Bobby and Billy Ray had manned the ship's helm together in many a tight situation. “The computer has the conn for transit.”
“Acknowledged, Sailing Master Danner,” the ship replied. The warning klaxon sounded.
“Transit in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.”
T'aafhal Legacy 1: Ghosts of Orion Page 8
