Legacy

by Bob Mauldin

  Simon turned away from his audience to gaze through the insubstantial barrier out to the vessel waiting just beyond his reach. Finally realizing that he was keeping almost fifteen hundred people waiting, Simon turned away from the vision and back to his audience. He let his gaze drift from left to right over the entire group then looked down at the podium. He realized unhappily that he recognized even fewer faces than ever.

  Replacing the microphone, he gripped the podium with both hands. “I’m going to cut this short. I’m only going to say that where we stand right now and what that ship out there represents is a crossroads. A crossroads for human history. At a normal crossroads, you have four choices, one of which is to go back where you came from. Unfortunately, things aren’t that simple here. From where we stand there are an infinite number of roads we can take. One course is to go back and stick our heads in the sand and hope the universe goes away. Another is to turn what we have accomplished and the Galileo over to the governments of Earth. On the first road, we give up any chance at the universe in our lifetimes, our children’s lifetimes, even our grandchildren’s lifetimes. As for other roads, well, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you where they lead, because we don’t know yet, but I can tell you this: I don’t like the first two roads, and I won’t walk either of them.

  “The only things more to say are thank you for walking this road with me this far, and I pray that our association continues for many years to come. And now, the real reason we are here today. We have conceived, and you have built, the first ship in the Terran Alliance fleet. I don’t think anybody knows how badly I wish this first ship didn’t have to be a warship. But even though she is capable of an immense amount of destruction,” he hesitated a regretful second, “I envision her, her sisters, and all the ships to follow, to be a constructive force, securing mankind’s place in space. And defending, if necessary, our right to be out here.

  “From the time the first human gazed up at the stars in wonder, to this very day, mankind has dreamed of being where we stand. But it wasn’t until the late nineteenth century that people started to speculate in print. And mostly, it was twentieth-century writers who got us all hooked on the possibilities. Those writers, from Jules Verne on, have fueled our imaginations. We grew up with his stories and those of H.G. Wells in the late nineteenth century. Most of us, though, grew up reading stories by the premier authors of our times. And the first six ships to come out of our docks are going to honor the spirit of those visionary people without whom most of us wouldn’t be here today.

  “The second through sixth ships will carry the names Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, Larry Niven, Anne McCaffrey, and Andre Norton.” Simon turned to gaze out upon the ship glowing in the sunlight. “And this one,” he continued, “to be named after the grand master of modern science-fiction.” If any eye on that deck had been looking anywhere but at the ship, it might have seen a small flash of light at the end of Simon’s last comment. He hesitated for a few seconds, then continued, “It is my great pleasure to christen the first ship in the fleet of the Terran Alliance. By the power vested in me by the people who share my dream and my vision, I hereby christen her the TAS Robert A. Heinlein.”

  Quite literally on cue, as the last syllable left Simon’s mouth, a small glittering cloud appeared at the bow of the newly christened ship. For a few seconds, a small portion of the Heinlein was obscured from view, and Simon heard mutters of surprise from behind him. He turned back again with a smile on his face and said, “Of all the engineering feats that have been accomplished out here in the last year, you have just witnessed one of the hardest. Do you realize how hard it is to christen a spaceship with a bottle of champagne?” Laughter broke out on the deck. Simon let it run for a few seconds, then held up his hand. As the sound died, he went on, “Special congratulations go to Engineering for not only designing the delivery system to get the bottle from here to the Heinlein, but keeping it liquid until it could smash on the hull and give you all those pretty little sparkles out there. Good old human ingenuity strikes again.

  “Now. Those of you who are assigned to the Heinlein already know who you are. At this time I would like to introduce you to your command staff. For the position of Helm Officer, Donna Hall. Front and center, Lt. Commander.” Having rehearsed before the ceremony, Donna Hall walked up onto the dais. Daniels, standing in the background until now, stood beside Simon.

  When Donna reached the two captains, she stood to attention. “Lt. Commander Hall, for your dedication to your job and your superior performance of same you are hereby posted to the Terran Alliance Ship Heinlein,” Simon said. “With the position come greater responsibilities and duties. Therefore, I have the pleasure of promoting you to full Commander. Congratulations, and may you acquit yourself with honor.” During his speech, Simon had removed her insignia and replaced them with the golden stars of her new rank. He stepped back, saluted her, accepted her salute in return and watched as she pivoted and left the stage. Naming and promoting as necessary, the two captains continued until only three were left. “Robert and Michiko Greene, front and center.” The two officers stepped up on the dais together. Simon and Daniel each taking one officer, quickly stripped off the old rank and installed the new insignia, finishing at the same time. The four exchanged salutes and then the stage was again Simon’s.

  Simon again faced the audience. “Wing Commander Katharine Hawke, front and center.” At the sound of Kitty’s name, the crew who were not in the know began to cheer. Walking as if to her own execution, Kitty slowly ascended the dais, her eyes locked on Simon’s. She came to a halt directly in front of him, in the same position of attention the others before her had used. Simon finally signaled for the cheering to stop. In the silence, he stared deep into his wife’s eyes, then said, where everyone could hear, “I had two choices today. One was to play the part of a happy husband and stand down there while you got promoted and applaud with the rest, the other was to stand up here and pin your comets on you myself.” He reached out and slowly removed the golden stars from her lapels. He turned to her newly appointed first officer, Marsha Kane, who had appeared at his side holding a small black box open for him to pick up the first comet. After he finished with the second one, he stepped back a half pace and stuck his hand out. With a slightly perplexed look on her face Kitty reached out and took his hand and he shook it. “Congratulations, Captain,” he said, and then, with no warning, tightened his grip, pulled her to him, put his left arm around her and kissed her soundly on the lips in front of the entire assemblage. Whistles and cat-calls greeted the sight. Stepping back, he said quietly, “Damn, Kittyn. I hope that doesn’t become part of the tradition of promotion.” Grasping her by the shoulders, he turned Kitty around to face the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to present to you the Captain of the TAS Robert A. Heinlein, Captain Katherine Hawke.”

  As the applause started to die down, a voice rose up out of the front row. “Three cheers for Captain Kitty!” At each hurrah, Simon could feel the deck vibrate from the power of nearly fifteen hundred voices yelling in unison. As the third cheer echoed into silence, Simon reached into the podium and said, “Captain, there is one more thing for you to take with you. Apparently this is going to become part of the tradition as well. He pulled out a brass plaque and handed it to her.

  All this fuss for a piece of metal, she thought, then looked down at the words embossed there:

  T.A.S. ROBERT A. HEINLEIN

  COMMISSIONED FEBRUARY 14, 2011

  CAPTAIN KATHERINE HAWKE, COMMANDING

  Staring at the plaque in her hands, with her name on it, she realized just how well she had been roped in by the ceremony. Ceremony is not just for the crowd. It binds the person participating to the event, and to the people watching it, forever. The problem with ceremony is that it brands an individual as well, sometimes for the good, and sometimes otherwise. Think of an execution. The ceremony surrounding an event of that nature is not for the guest of honor at all.

/>   “Show ‘em the plaque, Hon,” Simon quietly urged, breaking her train of thought. “That’s why they all came.”

  To Kitty’s credit, her thoughts never reached her face as she raised the plaque over her head and let the applause, undeserved though she felt it to be, wash over her. She recognized the psychology behind Simon’s strategy for what it was, but still couldn’t get the lump in her throat to go away. Not that she would change anything. Not that she could. Simon, you will pay for this. Worse than the time you did forget our anniversary. I promise you that, she thought.

  “The sooner we get these trials done, the happier I’ll be. I want to see us get base number three started. We’re going to try something different this time,” Stephen said to Simon. “I know the Heinlein is going to complete her trials with flying colors. Call it an engineer’s intuition mixed with knowing how user friendly this technology is. I’m thinking ahead to three things we need to do with one ship in a very short period of time. It’s the end of March. We’ll have two more ships needing crews by mid- to late April. Meantime, we’ll be building ... what are we going to name the next base?”

  Simon looked up from the collection of papers, files and reports on his desk. “What? Oh, I don’t know. I picked two constellations. Let’s continue that and you pick the next name.”

  Stephen added the stack of papers he was holding to the growing pile on the desk and sat down in one of the chairs across the sea of folders that threatened to spill off onto the floor. “We’re going to have to get you a secretary before long, maybe two,” he said, glaring at the mess. “That office out there is a pretty good indication the previous captain knew how to delegate. You shouldn’t have to read anything but synopses and ask for the relevant report if you see something interesting. That will take a lot of pressure off of you.”

  Stephen could see that the conversation wasn’t going anywhere near the direction Simon’s thoughts were. “Look, Simon. You can’t beat yourself up over assigning Kitty to Heinlein. The best person for the job as far as I’m concerned. Of course, I’m not married to her,” he quipped. “She’ll do a good enough job on you when she finds out how much you really dumped on her.”

  Simon roused himself enough from his self-pity to look up at Stephen. “You’re probably right,” he said with a lopsided grin. “So, what do you mean by try something different?”

  Stephen said, “Look. What good is Galileo once the habitat section and factory sections are completed? They can finish building the Shack themselves, then start on their first ship. So, we get the fuel plant built, set up the habitat, factory section and docking bays. We help produce the station shuttles and a half dozen Mambas and the new dock, let’s call her Libra, can finish completing itself. We make a bee-line for Earth, pick up crew for two ships and get back in, I’d say seven or eight weeks. With the Mambas as protection as well as cover, there shouldn’t be any trouble while we’re gone. Especially if Heinlein stays in the vicinity until we get back. Think about it.”

  Simon leaned back in his chair, stroked his chin and put on his pondering face. Stephen tossed a folder at him. Papers flew everywhere, and both men laughed. “See what you made me do?” Stephen complained. “Let’s go get a beer.”

  Simon demurred. “I’ve got these reports to go over. The engineering staff seem to think a wobble they found in the magnetic containment fields can be permanently cured with the right filters coupled into the system. They’ve tried to solve the problem with software filters, but sooner or later they begin to drift again. According to them, the faster a ship moves the more stress on the containment fields. This time they’re looking at a hardware change and I’m not sure I want to mess with the original design specs on something as critical as this. They tend to get too technical for me, so, if you’d look into it and let me know what you think, I’d appreciate it. And I’ve got something personal to look into.”

  After seeing Stephen out one door, Simon went directly to the bridge to check on Heinlein’s progress. Transmissions came in on a regular basis from the techs and engineers on board, but Heinlein’s captain only saw fit to send a personal report once a day. Simon wasn’t sure if it was to make him worry, but he still did. And to tell the truth, he even looked forward to the distant tone of voice and terse reports in the daily dispatch from Kitty. He just wished she would let go of her grudge over her promotion.

  Six days of trials. The engineers were putting Heinlein through some pretty stiff paces. They had spent days going over the parameters she needed to meet, and so far, everything was well within tolerances. Quite a few of the parameters were drastically exceeded, to tell the truth. Tomorrow was to be the last major trial. An extended boost up to warp speed, then beyond. Simon had told her to head for Alpha Centauri. When she asked why, he only said that it was the nearest star, and she wouldn’t be going all the way there on this trip, anyway. It just gave her navigator something to program into the computer.

  Every trial, so far, had come off without a hitch. Even the weapons tests. Here she sat, farther from Earth than any human had ever been. Except her own crew, of course. Almost eight hundred and ninety million miles from home. Shooting at asteroids in Saturn’s rings, of all places.

  The lasers were even more powerful than expected due to having their own power core to draw from and the poor asteroids never stood a chance. The missiles only needed some fine tuning to their targeting mechanisms. The missile technology, like almost everything else the Builders produced, was perfected to the point of not really needing anything added to increase its effectiveness. The targeting systems worked perfectly, of course, it was just the adaptations humans had made that needed to be gone over. Most of the problems, as in most things the engineers and scientists discovered, lay in the different measuring systems inherent in the computer and the new programs installed by humans. Glitches that surely would not exist for the Builders kept cropping up and needing to be adjusted.

  The engineers had turned out several shield generators that would simulate an enemy ship, assuming, of course, that the enemy ship had shield generators. Bets were being taken that there would be no shields to contend with. Generator and power supply were turned loose and the ship took them out, telling the techs much about what the ship might have to face in a combat situation. Now all that remained were the final engine tests, then she could go home.

  Calling her staff together, Kitty put them to the question. “Are we ready to go for the engine tests?” The usual hemming and hawing began, but she had suffered through enough of that in the previous week and had learned how to stop it before it got into deep technical explanations that she would never understand. Hell, she was sure most of the technical team didn’t understand half of what they said, themselves. “Let’s cut to the chase, people. Either we know for sure, or we are speculating. Are we sure enough to risk all our lives?” Taking the silence as a commitment to continue, she said as much. “In the absence of a strong verbal no, we will begin the final tests tomorrow shortly after breakfast. I think I’d rather try this on a full stomach and an empty bladder,” she joked.

  Kitty woke up the next morning in her quarters aboard Heinlein with a feeling of disorientation. She couldn’t shake the feeling of something forgotten or missing. The feeling was so intense that even going over her previous days’ calendar didn’t dispel it. She finally realized that she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. As she showered, dressed and otherwise prepared for her day, the feeling seemed to become more internal than external, leaving her with a curiously pleasant tingle. Oh, no, she thought, as she brushed her hair into her usual shipboard ponytail. I hope I’m not getting addicted to life-defining moments!

  She had checked her repeater screens immediately upon arising to make sure the course she had given to third shift was being followed, so she decided she had time for a quick breakfast. Finding the room considerably more crowded than expected, she asked, “Aren’t some of you supposed to be getting some rest?”

 
A face she barely recognized and wearing Lt. Commander’s insignia, spoke up. “Yes, Ma’am, but I don’t think any of us want to miss what’s coming up. If everything works like it should, some of us will just be a little tired and go to bed early next shift’s-end.” He shrugged and added philosophically, “And if something goes wrong, it won’t matter.”

  Kitty sat down at the table next to the philosophical young man and pressed him. “And it doesn’t hurt that the technology is tried, true and tested for hundreds of years before we got it. It’s not new, merely new to us. Now, isn’t that right?”

  “No, Ma’am, it doesn’t hurt at all, even if we have added a few twists of our own.” This came from a red-headed ensign sitting next to the young Lt. Commander. “We spend a lot of time after shift talking about where we are and what we’re doing. Speculating on the future. Anyway, Ma’am, one of the things that keeps coming up is just that fact. The age of the technology.” Kitty looked at the new speaker more closely and recognized her. She glanced at the name tag on the woman’s uniform, and said, “Oh, yes. You would be Ensign Ross from ... that would be one of the forward missile bays. We met during one of my first inspections.”

  The redhead smiled and said, “Yes, Ma’am and no, Ma’am.” At Kitty’s confused look, the woman went on. “Ensign Ross and forward missile bay are both correct, Ma’am. But I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting you. That was my twin sister. She’s on first shift, I’m on second. And she didn’t quit talking about your visit for days, Ma’am.”