CHAPTER 6
Richard Drake sat in his acceleration couch on the bridge and watched as Discovery’s astrogator maneuvered the ship toward the Valeria-Napier foldpoint. The foldpoint was a red-shaded ellipse in the middle of the main bridge viewscreen. Just beyond the boundary to the interstellar gateway, eight tiny gold sparks moved cautiously forward. As Drake watched, the first spark crossed the edge of the ellipse and began to blink rapidly. Within seconds, each of the others did likewise. Drake watched as the last of the ships under his command crossed the boundaries of the foldpoint.
“Mr. Cristobal,” Drake said.
“Yes, sir,” the astrogator replied.
“When will you be ready for the jump?”
“Any time, Captain. We are beyond the zone of uncertainty and have entered the foldpoint proper. We’ve nothing to gain by waiting any longer.”
“Very well,” Drake replied. “Lock in the preplanned jump sequence.”
“Locked in, Captain.”
Drake keyed for the general fleet communications circuit. “All captains, link to me.”
Drake’s screens lit to show the faces of his seven subordinates. He polled them individually, and found them eager for the coming jump. Most had never been outside the Val system, and their eagerness brought back memories of his own first interstellar jump. When the last captain had reported his readiness for foldspace transition, Drake nodded and said:
“Right. You each know the plan. Discovery will go first, followed by Dagger, City of Alexandria, and then the cryogen tankers at intervals of thirty seconds. Once on the other side, immediately report your status and position, and then form on the flagship. Any questions?” There were none. “Very well, you may proceed when ready.”
As quickly as his screens had cleared, Drake turned back to his astrogator. “You may do likewise, Mr. Cristobal. Proceed when ready.”
“Aye aye, sir. One minute to transition. Generators to power, now!”
This last was addressed to the engineering officer whose station was next to Argos Cristobal’s. Drake listened to the interplay between the astrogator and the various other departments. At the same time, he punched for a view of Antares on the main viewscreen. The nova was now merely a very bright star.
“Sound your warning, Mr. Cristobal.”
“Sounding now, Captain.”
There was the raucous sound of alarms, followed by Argos Cristobal’s voice on the general annunciator: “Attention, All Hands! This is the Astrogator speaking. Prepare for foldspace transition. I repeat, prepare for foldspace transition. You have thirty seconds. T minus thirty seconds and counting!”
“All hands, report status!” Drake ordered.
“Once again there was a roll call, this one for the various department heads onboard Discovery. All reported their readiness for foldspace transition.
“Ten seconds, Captain,” Cristobal reported.
“Jump when ready, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir. Five, four … three … two … one, Jump!”
No particular sensation accompanied foldspace transition, not surprising when theoretically the ship had not “gone” anywhere. For one single instant Drake felt a touch of fear that something had gone wrong, that perhaps the foldspace generators had malfunctioned and Discovery still orbited high above Val. Then he glanced at the viewscreen and felt the usual feeling of relief that followed a successful jump. For the object on the screen bore no resemblance to the eye-searing point of violet-white light that had been there just a few seconds earlier.
In the single blink of an eye, Antares had been transformed from a particularly bright star into a vast ball of ghostly light that covered half the sky. At the center of the sphere lay the remnant of the once mighty red giant. The furiously radiating object that was all that remained of Antares was a vast ball of plasma larger than most stars. Beneath that veil of energetic gas lay a rapidly rotating neutron star. As the invisible neutron star rotated, its magnetic field whipped the expanding cloud of plasma, generating intense synchrotron radiation and considerable radio energy. The quick “fluttering” call of the Antares pulsar was clearly audible across a wide band of communications frequencies.
Scanning outward from the wrecked star, Drake noted that the nebula turned nearly transparent just beyond the bounds of the central object, allowing several background stars to shine through the gas cloud. The remnants of Antares’ A3 companion sun also lay close to the central mass. The gas cloud turned translucent again at approximately one-third the distance to the periphery. The thickening cloud glowed with a deep reddish color. Farther out, the red subtly turned to orange, the orange shaded up to yellow, and the yellow turned to green. At the outer perimeter, the gas thickened until it was nearly opaque and glowing with the blue-white radiance of a fluorescent lamp. Drake’s inspection of the nebula took only a matter of seconds. As he gazed at the ghostly apparition, Lieutenant Cristobal’s voice could be heard echoing through the ship. “Foldspace transition successfully completed!”
“Communicator,” Drake ordered. “Get me a status report from all department heads. Also, let me know as each ship checks in.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Drake reached out and switched his private viewscreen to a view of Napier. The system primary was noticeably yellower than was Valeria. Whereas Alta’s sun was an F8 dwarf, yellow-white in color and somewhat hotter than Sol, New Providence’s sun was a G8 giant, cooler and much larger than humanity’s birth star. Its size made for a much larger temperate zone than is normal in systems with terrestrial worlds. Thus, New Providence was planet seven in the Napier system. Napier’s size also resulted in foldpoints forming much farther from the system primary than was normal for a dwarf sun.
Drake oriented himself quickly and began picking out guide stars. He let his gaze drift to where New Providence lay. The planet did not show on the viewscreen, nor had he expected it to. The distance between the foldpoint and the one-time capital world of the Napier system was such that a powerful telescope would have been required to make New Providence visible.
“Dagger just reported in, Captain,” the communicator said over Drake’s command circuit. “Its breakout point is three thousand kilometers from us.”
“Acknowledged,” Drake said. Over the next four minutes, the rest of his fleet materialized in the foldpoint around him. He mentally ticked them off as they came through. Dagger, City of Alexandria, Phoenix, Tharsis, Vellos, Alcor V, and finally, Suma Warrior. All checked in as quickly as they arrived. All reported having successfully made the jump from Valeria without difficulty.
“All ships to close on us,” Drake ordered when the last cryogen tanker reported in. Because there was no way to predict where in a foldpoint any particular ship would materialize, it was necessary to reform the fleet after the jump. “Someone get a telescope focused on New Providence.”
“Done, Captain,” one of the bridge technicians responded. “Channel sixteen.”
Drake keyed to switch his screen to the telescopic view. New Providence showed as a small half-moon shape. The planet was still five billion kilometers distant. “Any sign of our Sandarian allies?”
“We’re analyzing now, Captain. No coherent radiation such as from a message laser, sir. If they’re here, they aren’t advertising the fact.”
Drake watched quietly while the technicians did their work. After a minute’s silence, the sensor tech reported, “We’ve got them, sir! There are several ships in orbit about New Providence. At least a dozen, possibly more. One of them is large, probably blastship class. Shall I pulse them?”
“What’s the communications delay at this distance?”
“Five hours each way, sir.”
“All right, send them the following message. ‘Have arrived in good order. Will proceed to rendezvous as soon as fleet order has been restored. Am anxious to begin explorations. Signed, Drake, Vice Commander.”
“Yes, sir. All ships have acknowledged your order to rejoin. Alexandria is the farthest out. Captain Martin reports he’ll be here in two hours.”
“Acknowledged.” Drake glanced one last time at the crescent New Providence floating against the black of space. He then keyed for Bethany’s cabin. She smiled up at the camera when she saw who it was.
“Well,” he said, “we’re here.”
“So I see. The nebula’s more beautiful than I remember it.”
He nodded. “I hope we still think so once we’ve gotten inside.”
* * *
The ship’s boat slipped from behind the curve of City of Alexandria and moved out into the blaze of full Napier-light. Ahead lay the backlit sphere of New Providence; its black form turned silvery by nebula light. A horizon-to-horizon light show was taking place over the night side of the planet as continent-wide auroral displays chased one another across the sky. A silver halo along the eastern limb of the planet betrayed the coming of day. Hanging immediately above the advancing terminator was Napier, a perfectly round ball of fire in the sky.
“Hello, Royal Avenger, this is Moliere. We have departed City of Alexandria and are en route to your position.”
“I have you on my screen, Moliere. You are cleared for approach to Landing Bay Seven. Please report the outer marker.”
“Will do, Avenger. Moliere out.”
“Avenger, out.”
Ensign Grant Nals, Moliere’s pilot, turned to Richard Drake and said, “We’re in the groove, Captain. I estimate rendezvous in ten minutes.”
“How long after that to achieve a hard dock?” Drake asked.
“Another five to ten minutes, sir. We are cleared for the central axis entry into the hangar bay. That should speed matters up considerably.”
“Excellent! What margin of safety have you programmed into our trajectory?”
“We’re set up for a miss distance of one hundred meters, Captain, if that meets with your approval.”
“You are the pilot-in-command, son,” Drake said. “You don’t need my approval when it comes to flying your ship. Now, if you’re asking my advice…”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I would say that a margin of one hundred meters is entirely adequate. It’s close enough to impress them with your ability as a pilot, but far enough to make sure that we don’t plaster ourselves across Avenger’s hull. Needless to say, smashing into the flagship would hardly endear us to our new boss.”
“No, sir,” Nals replied. “I’m sure Commander Marchant would have something to say about it too.”
Drake nodded. “I believe he would. Please buzz the passenger cabin as soon as you report the outer marker.”
“Yes, sir.”
Drake turned, floated to the exit hatchway, braced himself against the zero gravity environment of the boat, and opened the hatch. The quiet chatter of the outside radiation detectors which had been the only background sound on the flight deck was suddenly drowned out by the buzz of many voices. He pulled through the hatch and closed it behind him before turning to face his fellow passengers. In addition to Drake, Moliere was carrying Stan Barrett, Bethany Lindquist, Captain Bela Marston of Dagger, Captain Raoul Bustamente of Alexandria, and several of the expedition’s senior scientists.
Drake pulled himself to the empty couch beside Bethany, pivoted once more in midair, and pulled himself down into the seat. He turned to her, smiled, and said, “Have I complimented you on how beautiful you are today?”
She smiled back, displaying two prominent dimples. “I believe you’ve mentioned it once or twice.” Bethany was wearing a pantsuit of powder blue, black space boots, and the scarlet sash traditionally worn by terrestrial diplomats. She had piled her hair on top of her head in a formal zero gravity style for the occasion. The effect was stunning. “Did the pilot mention how long it would be before we arrive?”
“Not long,” he replied. “Avenger is only about thirty kilometers ahead of us in orbit. We should be aboard within twenty minutes.”
“Will we be able to see Avenger during the approach?”
“Better than you may like. We’ll be coming up astern and will transit its whole length at a distance of one hundred meters before we match velocities.”
Bethany slipped her hand into Drake’s and asked, “Are you nervous?”
He smiled wanly. “A little.”
She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “No need to be. You’ll do fine.”
“I hope so,” he replied. “Otherwise, I may find myself swabbing decks for the Sandarian Navy…”
It had taken the Altan fleet two weeks to cross from the Napier-Val foldpoint to New Providence. Much of that time, Drake had spent in long distance communication with Admiral Gower. The subject of their exchanges had been how best to integrate the Altan and Sandarian fleets into a well-functioning whole.
The gross details regarding how the expedition was to be organized had been established two years earlier by the Altan/Sandarian mutual defense treaty. One of the things the treaty stipulated was that the military commander of the Helldiver Expedition must be a Sandarian, and an Altan must fill the post of vice-commander. The treaty gave the military commander overall responsibility for the safety of the men, women, and ships under him. It also required that he listen to the advice of a triumvirate of civilian advisors.
Drake knew of no one who had been totally happy with the arrangements mandated by the treaty. Parliament had not liked being forced to accept a Sandarian in overall command, nor had the two militaries involved enjoyed having civilians looking over their shoulders. Despite the dissatisfactions, however, both governments had worked diligently to implement the provisions of the treaty. Despite all the preplanning, Drake and Gower had discovered numerous organizational details that required their personal attention. By the time the Altan fleet closed the range to where two-way screen communication became possible, Drake had developed considerable respect for his new boss. He hoped the feeling was mutual.
Ten minutes after departing City of Alexandria, Landing Boat Moliere drew abreast of His Majesty’s Blastship Royal Avenger. The view through the starboard viewports was awesome. At the blastship’s stern were the focusing rings and field generators of three large photon engines. Even quiescent, the engines that drove the flagship gave the impression of unlimited power. Just in front of the engine exhausts were the radiators and other piping associated with the ship’s four massive fusion generators. In front of the generators were the blastship’s fuel tanks; heavily armored and insulated to keep the deuterium enriched hydrogen fuel as close to absolute zero as possible.
Drake let his gaze move forward along the blastship’s flank. The cylindrical hull was pierced in places by large hangar doors through which armed auxiliaries could sortie into battle. Forward of these were the snouts of a dozen antimatter projectors, Royal Avenger’s primary anti-ship weapons. The business ends of other weapon systems also jutted from the heavily armored hull. Interspersed with the weaponry were all manner of sensor gear.
As the landing boat slipped past the blastship’s flanks, they were rewarded with ever changing vistas since Avenger was rotating about its axis at the rate of several revolutions per minute. So close was landing boat to blastship that it was easy to imagine oneself in a small aircraft flying over an endless plain. The optical illusion came to an abrupt end when the landing boat passed abeam of the blastship’s prow.
Like most starships, little or no effort had gone into streamlining Avenger. In fact, the prow was actually slightly concave, and its surface covered with arrays of electronic and electromagnetic sensors. A hangar door outwardly identical to those that dotted the blastship’s flanks was set flush with the hull at the giant ship’s axis of rotation.
As quickly as the bow portal came into view, Moliere’s pilot fired the attitude control thrusters to halt the landing boat’s forward speed. Once Moliere had halted in space, he began firing his side thrusters to align the landing boat with the central portal. A popping noise echoed through the passenger cabin each time the thrusters fired. When Moliere was lined up with Royal Avenger’s axis portal, the thrusters fired twice more to match the flagship’s rate of rotation. The hangar door retracted, and Moliere’s pilot nudged his boat toward the lighted opening. Within seconds, the boat passed into a spacious cavern lighted by million-candlepower polyarc lamps. There followed a series of bumping and scraping noises, and a gentle tug of deceleration as the landing boat’s forward velocity was halted. After that, there came a long span of silence interrupted by the sudden sound of air swirling outside the hull.
Moliere had arrived.