Engineering Spaces, Peggy Sue
As the ship maneuvered to enter a retrograde orbit around the gas giant Capt. Vincent decided to pay a visit to the engineering crew in the aft of the ship. Chief Engineer Arin Baldursson and his artificers had their quarters in the rear of the ship, close to the drives and reactors that were in their care. Also located aft of the main cargo hold were cold storage, the polar bear quarters and the ship's machine shop.
In older days, when ships sailed upon the seas and not the vacuum of space, navy vessels had well equipped machine shops, capable of turning out replacement components for onboard equipment. In the age of sail they carried woodworking tools, during the age of steam metalworking was required. On the Peggy Sue the equipment to be maintained was likely to be a muon catalyzed fusion reactor, a segment of deck gravity generation grid or an antimatter containment vessel. And while there was still call for metalwork it was most likely to be handled by a 3D printer or 5-axis CNC milling machine inside a fabrication unit.
More often repairs meant dealing with circuitry: superconducting pathways grown by nanites, holographic storage devices, or quantum computational arrays. Sometimes, even old fashioned semiconductors and electronics were needed, but usually repair work involved advanced technology scavenged from T'aafhal sources. The ancient and alien T'aafhal had fought epic battles against the forces of the Dark Lords four million years ago and then vanished, but not before taking a hand in the evolution of life on Earth.
Those with access to the memory stores found among recovered T'aafhal artifacts knew that both humans and polar bears had been pushed toward sentience by those meddlesome aliens. Human scientists had only scratched the surface of the T'aafhal archives, enough to build starships and advanced weapons, but most T'aafhal technology remained beyond human ken. Most of their technology truly was indistinguishable from magic.
Peggy Sue's engineers were called upon to fabricate and repair the mysterious devices that drove the ship between the stars, slipping in and out of alternate dimensions that human physicists had only guessed existed. Their work was as much art as it was science. Naturally, they were the best people on board to divine the purpose of the alien devices recovered from the strange dead planet.
“Well Captain, this equipment is certainly intriguing,” said Chief Engineer Baldursson, motioning to the pile of alien devices spread across the repair shop's main tables. At various places wires and probes connected test equipment to the items being examined. Where some of the wires attached to the alien equipment half melted joins, typical of nanite fusing, could be seen.
“Are you getting any closer to figuring out what this stuff does, Arin?”
“Well, Skipper, we think it's some kind of recording system, capable of capturing both sight and sound. But we don't know what it hooked up to for input. Young Michaels here has managed to cobble up some interface circuitry for it.”
“And what have you discovered, Mr. Michaels?”
The engineer's mate practically came to attention when addressed by the ship's captain. The engineering staff pretty much kept to themselves in the aft part of the ship, not mingling with the rest of the crew and certainly not conversing with the Captain on a daily basis.
“Uh, well Sir, it looks like this stuff is made from 3D semiconductors, sort of like the most advanced stuff we were working on before the alien attack on Earth.”
“So we could be dealing with a home entertainment system or an alien PlayStation?”
“It's possible, Sir. But the technology isn't based on simple electronics, it uses spintronics,” the nervous tech continued. “The circuits use both the electrons' spins and their associated magnetic moments, not just fundamental electronic charge like our semiconductor devices do. The technology is quite advanced, spins are not only manipulated by magnetic fields, but electrical fields as well.”
“Yer saying that these critters were more advanced than us?”
“At least in this area they were. Of course they were not anywhere near the level of the T'aafhal.” There was a growing trend among human engineers and even scientists to hold the long vanished T'aafhal in almost worshipful reverence. For some reason he couldn't quite identify, this annoyed Billy Ray.
“So this group of aliens was on par with us, if not a little ahead, technology wise.”
“Yes, Skipper, I would agree with that statement. But we have been making good progress decoding the data stored inside this memory unit here,” Arin interjected, motioning to a large device festooned with thin wires that led to a rack of lab equipment. That equipment was sprinkled with tiny flashing LEDs and several screens displayed dancing green waveforms.
“In fact, Sir, we think we have recovered a snippet of the last thing it recorded,” Michaels said, pride in their accomplishment overcoming fear of the Captain.
“Really? That's very impressive. Can I see it?”
“Sure, Captain!” Michaels threw a bunch of switches and then nodded in the direction of a large screen on the lab bulkhead. Swirls of colored light danced across the screen, coalescing into a blurry picture.
It looked like the view out of a large arched window opening. Outside were green trees similar to weeping willows, a field of red flowers and a number of white curved shapes that could have been buildings. The picture dissolved into a shower of pixelated color.
“Hmm,” Billy Ray said, “I'm assuming there is more of this stored in the device.”
“Yes, Skipper,” Arin said, “we've been working on cleaning up the video before dumping the rest of the entry.”
Sensing the engineers were a bit disappointed by his reaction, Billy Ray quickly added, “it looks like y'all are doing a bang up job of figuring this stuff out, well done. Carry on, Chief Engineer.”
“Aye, aye, Skipper,” Arin replied, smiling for the first time since the Captain had invaded his domain.
“You too, Mr. Michaels, keep up the good work.” With that Billy Ray exited the lab and headed forward, his mind already lost in thought. That clip was awfully short but it plainly showed trees and flowers, which verifies that the second planet was once a living world. The big question remains what killed it?
Mizuki & Bobby's Quarters
Bobby and Mizuki retired to their quarters to grab some shuteye in anticipation of exploring the strange porous moon the next day. Mizuki had been worn to a frazzle, riding herd on the science section's expeditions planet side and subsequent efforts to analyze the samples they collected. Her significant other had put in even more time ferrying personnel between the ship and the planet, but had been able to catch up on his sleep deficit during the survey passes of the habitable zone's other planets.
Their cabin was not nearly as large as the Captain's, but it was still large and luxurious compared with accommodations on a Navy vessel. Intended as a guest suit when the Peggy Sue was fulfilling her original purpose as a wealthy man's yacht, the room had a king sized bed, rich wood paneling and the ultimate shipboard luxury, a private head and shower. Mizuki and Bobby had availed themselves of that luxury and were now relaxing in kimono-like robes prior to crawling into bed.
To Bobby, the silk man's kimono was just what the Japanese word said—a thing (mono) to wear (ki). For Mizuki, however, it was a link to her heritage and those she had lost forever when Earth was attacked. Simplified significantly for onboard use, her kimono was a far cry from the traditional Japanese formal garment. A typical woman's kimono often had twelve or more separate pieces, worn in prescribed ways. The cut and style of the various parts all carried meaning to traditional Japanese.
“Well here we are, Mizuki-chan. Just you, me and the kids.”
Bobby's reference to “the kids” meant the flock of blue-green alien butterflies that shared their cabin. Since Billy Ray had jokingly referred to the butterflies as their children, both Bobby and Mizuki had taken to calling them that. Mizuki had become emotionally attached to them several years ago and they to her. Not true insects—the body segmentation was wrong
as were the number of limbs—the butterfly like creatures seemed to posses a shared consciousness, each member of the flock linked to the others like a bevy of blue tooth devices. Mizuki had permitted enough testing of her pets to show that they were, collectively, more intelligent than a dog and maybe as smart as a dolphin.
She often sang to them in Japanese when they were alone together and on occasion they even beat their wings in synchrony to say a few word back. Several times in the past she had found dead individual butterflies. These she wept over and performed Buddhist funeral rights before cremating the remains. The flock hovered around her during these ceremonies and seemed to understand their meaning. That they sometimes acted as one being and as individuals on other occasions did not vex Mizuki. As a physicist she accepted the wave particle duality of photons; she accepted the alien butterflies on their own terms.
Even though a score of the little aliens had perished over the years the flock had not grown smaller. Obviously they were reproducing, though Mizuki had no idea how the new butterflies were conceived, gestated or delivered. If anything, since the flock accepted Bobby as a part of their world, they seem to have grown in number.
“The children did not like it when we left them to go exploring the dead planet. I suspect they will be upset when we travel to the metal moon as well.”
“Yeah, but they get so excited when you return.”
“When we return, Bobby. I have seen them flock around you when you come home after a watch. I think they have adopted you as well.”
“I guess this is as close to a real family we will have until you decide to marry me.”
This last remark caused Mizuki to look away. Bobby had been courting her since the night in Tokyo when he rescued her from the yakuza. They had become a couple and began living together more than two years ago, yet for reasons that Bobby could not understand, Mizuki would not marry him.
“You know I love you, Bobby.”
“So why won't you marry me?” His voice carried an almost pleading tone. The butterflies scattered about the cabin began to display darker colors—indigo and purple—a sign of emotional distress.
“We have been over this before. I want to accomplish something important before I become your wife. Something that people will remember me for, other than just being the mother of your children.”
“What's wrong with being the mother of our children? That's what people do who fall in love, they get married and have children.”
“I know that, Bobby. And there is nothing wrong with being the mother of your children—someday I want to be the mother of your children. But I feel I must first do something memorable, something noteworthy. For my family, and for Japan.”
“You have already traveled farther across the Galaxy than all but a few Earthlings. You explored the Ring Station, fought many battles and helped to save our home world from total destruction. Isn't that enough?”
“I was a member of the crew, not the leader. It will not be my name remembered in association with those deeds.”
“You want to be famous? Is that it?”
“No! Not like a rock star or an actor. I wish to be remembered for accomplishing something worthwhile. How can I explain? The goal of marriage in Japan is to meet social expectations and raise children. In my culture the woman sacrifices herself for her husband and her children. My family was so disappointed when I didn't come home from college with a husband, and were even more upset when I went to graduate school.”
Mizuki was close to tears and the flock of butterflies was flitting about the cabin in a state of high agitation. Bobby sat down on the bed next to her and hugged her. She buried her face in his shoulder.
“Oh Mizuki, it's not that way anymore—you can have a career after we're married. I would never do anything to prevent you from being happy or from becoming the most famous sword fighting astrophysicist in the galaxy, if that is what you want.”
“Love and marriage are not the same thing. Most Japanese couples hardly sleep together after they have a child. The men have their careers and the women have their children. For women, their pleasure is supposed to come from raising a family. When they get bored, they just go shopping or do other things that housewives do—or have an affair. I don't want you to stop loving me, Bobby.”
“If you are afraid I will grow tired of you and stop wanting you if we get married that won't happen! I will never stop loving you, Mizuki. I want to grow old with you, and if you won't marry me I will take you this way—any way—as long as we are together.”
“I'm sorry Bobby. I do want to marry you, I just am not ready yet. Please understand.” She looked up with tear streaked cheeks and Bobby's heart broke.
“Hush now, I didn't mean to make you cry. Come, we need to get some sleep; it will be a busy day tomorrow.”
Without speaking further, the couple removed their gowns and climbed into bed. Mizuki snuggled inside Bobby's embrace. The emotional storm past, the butterflies settled down, alighting on perches around the room. They remained ever vigilant, however, protecting their goddess and her consort.
Armory, Peggy Sue
“Why are we pulling extra duty, cleaning our armor after hours, Gunny?” asked Vinny DeSilva, as he took a wire brush to the overlapping small bands of metal-ceramic in his suit's left armpit. Though the suits had been decontaminated after use on the dead planet's surface there was still the possibility of fine contaminants in the armor's overlapping bands.
“Because the Chief says we are getting close to rendezvousing with some kind of small moon that the science geeks find interesting. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the Captain will be sending a shuttle to take a closer look, and that means we'll be going along to keep the nerd squad safe.”
“All of us?” asked Dmitry Boskovitch, getting ready to strip and clean his railgun. “Why do we all have to go?”
“Because that's what the Captain wants, Bosco. If you haven't figured it out yet, Capt. Vincent is trying to get us as much training time as possible, just in case we do eventually come across some nastiness. So shut up and keep working.”
“Ho ho! It looks like the jar heads have the same idea we do, Matt,” Steve Hitch announced as he and Jacobs entered the armory. “Getting everything shipshape so's not to be in a panic tomorrow morning when the Skipper sends us to take a gander at that moon Doc Ogawa is all excited about.”
“The swabbies have arrived,” commented Kato Kwan, “there goes the neighborhood.”
While it has been known for sailors and Marines to not get along, that was really not the case on the Peggy Sue. This was partly because the Chief and the Gunny wouldn't stand for it, but also because Hitch and Jacobs had fought alongside Kwan and Acuna on earlier missions. It didn't matter if you bled Navy blue or Marine green, if you passed the trial by fire you were one of the club.
“Good to know you two are thinking ahead, even if a bit slowly.” The Gunny grinned at the two petty officers as they began working on their own armored suits. “You hear any scuttlebutt about this moon the science types are so ga-ga over?”
“They way I hear it, the whole thing is like a giant sponge made out of metal,” Hitch provided.
“Yeah, Commander Danner thinks that the moon has been mined,” added Jacobs. There were few onboard activities sailors enjoyed more than spreading rumors.
“Cmdr. Danner believes a lot of nutty things,” scoffed Kato.
“That may be, but sometimes he's right,” said the Gunny, “and he's one hell of a pilot. If we are going to take a side trip to a funny moon I want Danner at the controls.”
“No argument there, Gunny. Hey Umky, what do you think?”
The squad's only polar bear was quietly working on his suit, listening to the humans babble. Of course he had a bigger job than the other Marines, since a bear's suit was much larger than a man's. Its ammo load was much bigger as well.
“I think all you primates believe in kooky stuff,” Umky grunted. “But Danner seems OK to me. Aft
er all, Dr. Ogawa seems pretty attached to him, so he can't be totally crazy.”
“Right you are, Bear 2,” said Hitch. “Say, how are things going with your four-legged honey?”
Umky snorted. “If you are referring to Doctor Ahnah the science bear, let's just say I'm looking forward to floating around an airless metal junk pile for a few days, just to get some peace and quiet.”
“I though you two weren't talking?”
“Not at first, Gunny. Now I'd pay to have her shut up.”
“Maybe she's succumbing to your he-bear charms,” said Hitch, waggling his eyebrows.
“Keep it up, Hitch. I'm feeling a bit peckish.”
“That ain't gonna work, Umky. You should have heard all the times your Dad threatened to eat Stevie.”
The bear turned to look at Jacobs to see if he was joking. Matt looked back with an innocent expression and Umky made a woofing sound as he went back to cleaning his multi-barreled railgun. “So what's the ammo load for this little outing?”
“I'm thinking some of the DU armor-piercing,” Rosey replied. “Explosive stuff doesn't work so well in vacuum and we got a shitload of the solid stuff.”
“Handling uranium rounds gives me the willies,” said Vinny, “that crap is still radioactive. I heard some guys in Iraq got lung cancer from breathing in dust from expended rounds.”
“That's bullshit, Marine,” said Jacobs. “It's not the radiation, they even use DU shielding to contain dangerous radioactive materials. Most of the problem with DU is that uranium is a toxic metal. There have been reports of an elevated risk of birth defects with long-term exposure.”
“That ain't a problem with Vinny. The woman ain't been born that would have his children.”
“Funny, Kato, funny.”
“Quit your complaining. After all, you're gonna be inside a space suit. No way to come in contact with any uranium, not unless you shoot yourself in the foot.” The Gunny paused in thought before continuing. “Maybe after we check the place out we can do a little live fire.”
“That would be great, Gunny,” said Umky, hefting his weapon. “I've never seen what full rated fire with DU rounds can do.”
T'aafhal Legacy 1: Ghosts of Orion Page 13
