M'tak Ka'fek (The T'aafhal Inheritance) (34 page)

The convicts were lucky it was not raining outside—summer was the local rainy season and the messed up weather patterns had made this year wetter than most.

“At least tell us where we are,” another convict pleaded.

“You are in the Argentinian wine country, a region known as the Cuyo,” said the pilot, taking pity on the convicts. “It's a hilly, mountainous region in the foot hills of the Andes. Summer temperatures can reach 32ºC, with overnight lows around 18ºC, though it might get a bit cooler than that since the bombardment. I would suggest you try to make some friends among the surviving locals before winter, because the weather drops below freezing then.” 

“I'll give you some free advice,” added the Marine, “don't try that 99% crap on the locals, they might just shoot you where you stand.”

“I'm not leaving,” cried the hysterical Silvia, echoed by several others. This prompted the flight engineer to alter the gradient of the deck gravity, in effect tilting the cargo deck until the whole of Occupy Moon Base slid out the rear and landed on Argentinian soil in an unkempt heap. The shuttle lifted off, its rear ramp closing as it rose into the gray leaden sky. A number of the former prisoners could be seen waiving their arms or on their knees pleading as the shuttle headed back into space. 

Emergence, Gliese 581

An alter-space transit from Sol to Gliese 581 takes 22.69 days even though it is only 6.3 parsecs away. This is because of the relatively small mass of Gliese 581 itself, a diminutive M5 red dwarf only one third the Sun's mass. Taking a page from his former mentor's book, Billy Ray drilled his crew continually during the three week voyage.

Now I know why Jack used to drill our asses off,
Captain Vincent mused,
It was to keep us out of trouble and from going crazy in alter-space.
 

At the helm was Lt. JG Pauline Palmer, who had been a midshipman on Peggy Sue's last voyage. Though it was not his watch, Lt. Wim Vandersluys, the executive officer, was also on the bridge. In fact, anyone with a semi-plausible reason to be on the bridge was wedged in somewhere. Given the spectacular view through the ship's transparent nose, the capacity crowd was understandable. 

I remember the first time I saw an emergence, normal space suddenly reappearing with the ship in a new star system. Of course, the first time we weren't sure we would emerge anywhere.
Billy Ray smiled to himself.
Well, let them enjoy it—hopefully they'll live to tell their grand kids about it.
 

“How are we looking, XO?” he asked Vandersluys, formerly a lieutenant in the Dutch navy.

“We are at action stations and rigged for emergence, Sir.”

“Very good.” Noticing Chief Zackly out of the corner of his eye, Billy Ray addressed the old salt. “And how's the crew doing, Chief?”

“A bunch of snot nosed excuses for real sailors, but they'll do, Captain, they'll do.” From the grizzled old chief that was high praise.

“Ten seconds to emergence, Captain,” Pauline called from the helm. 

The bridge crew waited the last few seconds in silence and then, with the slightest of shudders the Peggy Sue reentered 3-space.

“Viewports transparent. I want a full sensor report Mr. Tanaka,” Billy Ray ordered his navigator. “Locate Gliese 581d and lay in a course to match orbits with it.”

The crew jumped to obey.

In all, a pretty good crew. I could have done worse for my first real command. Of course, we ain't done anything but fall through alter-space so far.
A call from the Ambassador interrupted his thoughts. 

“We have emerged from the lesser dimensions without incident; With your permission, Captain, we would contact our Conclave on the planet ahead; Our preparations with JeanJaquesDebelcour have gone well and we feel confident that our negotiations will yield a positive result.” 

“Yes, Ambassador, the trip so far has been uneventful as expected; Please make contact with your home planet using the computer's facilities; I'm glad that Jean-Jacques has been of assistance.”

Jean-Jacques was on the mission by happenstance. Had Billy Ray not taken Beth to the Frenchman's restaurant for dinner the night before departure the former UN diplomat would not have learned of the mission until after the Peggy Sue sailed. As things transpired, De Belcour overheard Billy Ray explaining to Beth that he had been handed a secret mission, which was about to take him away for the better part of two months.

Once Jean-Jacques learned of the mission he would not be denied. He implored Billy Ray to take him along, proclaiming that he must repay his debts and redeem his honor. Billy Ray kicked the decision upstairs, telling the insistent former diplomat that he would have to clear his participation with Col. Tropsha. The new Captain hoped that Jean-Jacques would balk at facing the formidable Russian woman he had so antagonized in the past, but the Frenchman was made of sterner stuff. 

To Billy Ray's surprise, Jean-Jacques presented himself at the foot of the gangway the next morning with permission granted by Col. Tropsha and endorsed by Captain Curtis.

“If that frog bastard gives you any trouble, Captain, you just give the word and I'll march his garlic eatin' ass out an airlock,” the Chief offered, unconsciously rubbing the shoulder where he had been shot during the incident in Vienna. But De Belcour caused no problems on the voyage out, spending most of his time in consultations with the Triad Ambassador. Billy Ray suspected that the Chief was slightly disappointed. 

“We have received a message of welcome from the Triads, Captain,” the ship's computer announced. “They congratulate us on our species' continued existence and for bringing NatHanGon back unharmed.”

“Send them an appropriately diplomatic reply and let the Ambassador get on with it,” Billy Ray responded.
Damn sarcastic plants, just because their species is four or five billion years older than us humans.
 

“The Ambassador is exchanging information as we speak, Captain. For a biological entity, their bandwidth is most impressive.”

CO's Office, Farside Base

Since Melissa's departure, Clem and Lem had been spending their time making minor changes to the fly farm. With their boss gone they were wondering what they should work on next. Then they got a summons from Col. Tropsha's office.

“I hope we don't get put back on vent cleaning duty,” Clem said as they entered the outer office.

“Me either, buddy,” answered Lem, “maybe the CO will ship us off to Mars like Melissa hinted before she left.”

The door to Ludmilla's office slid aside and the commanding officer's voice called from within, “Gentlemen, please come in and take a seat.”

There were two other people present in the office that the pair of engineers did not know, at least not personally. Both were familiar to anyone on the Moon base.

“Clement Mathews, Lemuel Souther, meet TK Parker and our Chief Engineer, Cdr. Jo Jo Medina.”

The men shook hands all around while mumbling meaningless pleasantries. Ludmilla waited impatiently as the ritual of male greeting was observed.

“Please, everyone have a seat.”

As TK's wheelchair lowered itself back to four-wheel mode Lem could not help but crane his neck to get a better look at the mechanism. This caused TK to chuckle.

“She's a beauty, ain't she,” the old oilman said.

Lem blushed, embarrassed being caught staring at the man's wheelchair. “Uh, yes sir, Mr. Parker. That's quite a piece of equipment.”

“Call me TK, son. Yeah I had this little number built special out of a couple of old iBOTs a few years back. Had her hopped up a bit too, but I don't get much chance to race around up here.”

“I keep offering to build him a floating, gravitonic driven one for use here on the Moon,” threw in Jo Jo with a crooked smile.

“Including the stand-up mechanism? That would be an interesting problem, keeping it stable during the transition,” added Clem, drawn into the discussion.

Ludmilla harrumphed and rolled her eyes. “Well, if there was any question that you two are engineers this answers it. Now if you all do not mind I would like to get down to business.”

“Aw Ludmilla,” TK said with a Texas twang, “if we were talkin' about transplanting a liver or bisectin' someone's bowel you'd have been right there with us.”

“Yes, TK, you are right. Still, we need to get to the matters at hand.”

“Yes, yes,” he said, waiving one had in the air as a sign of surrender. “You see, boys, after the latest little alien incursion we've realized that Farside is defenseless, totally dependent on the Navy to keep the bad guys away from our door.” 

“We also realized that, while we are building new ships as fast as we can,” added Jo Jo, “some parts of the process take longer than others. Specifically, nanite fusing the hull sections together once the engines and reactors are installed, followed by building out the interior spaces takes a lot longer than fabricating some of the other components.”

“Like deflector shield generators, X-ray laser units, and railguns,” TK interjected.

“Precisely,” said Ludmilla. “So we are in the process of installing shields and laser batteries to protect the base.”

“Since we only have to defend from one direction, we will have stronger shielding than a frigate and more than a dozen semi-autonomous X-ray units installed in the next couple of weeks,” Jo Jo concluded.

“How can we help with that?” asked Clem, puzzled why they were being briefed by the top brass about this.

“Yeah, seems like you have everything well in hand,” added Lem, “except you didn't mention any railguns.”

“I told you they were perceptive,” Ludmilla said to her two male companions.

“If they were dumber than two sacks of hammers you wouldn't have recommended 'em.”

Clem and Lem looked at each other, thinking the same thing.
The CO really enjoys needling TK. Not mean spirited, more like a sister and an older brother.
Jo Jo picked up the slack in the conversation. 

“You see, gentlemen, the railguns are different from the other equipment. The shield generators and laser batteries are simple to install—all they need is a stable mounting platform and power. Since the base is carved out of solid rock, and we now have four operational fusion reactors, neither requirement is a problem. The railguns are not so simple.”

“I'd imagine they have quite a recoil,” Lem commented.

“They kick like a damn mule,” TK answered.

“On a warship we simply build the railguns into the ship's structure and let the mass of the vessel absorb the recoil.”

“But that won't work on a shore emplacement,” said Clem, thinking out loud. “You need to be able to aim them.”

“Right again. In space we aim by simply pointing the whole ship at the target. We can't do that in this case.” Jo Jo looked at the two former armor techs expectantly.

“And you're hoping that we can come up with a mounting system,” Lem said.

Ludmilla smiled brightly. “See? Compared with the fly farm what are a few railgun emplacements?”

“Yes, Ma'am,” the two friends said together.

Chapter 21

Ring Station

The final negotiations securing employment of Captain Jack's band of mercenaries were brief. As it turned out the Trader had no cache of antimatter himself, but he claimed to know were such a trove of starship fuel could be found.

“You see, Captain, the antimatter vault for this section of the station lies about 90 kilometers to spinward,” the Trader, whose name was Threshnar-rak-ak-ran, confided. “Not coincidentally, there are a number of disagreeable creatures between here and there. Warlike primitives, mostly, who have simply moved in and occupied our rightful territory.”

“Naturally, we will need to convince these squatters to seek other accommodations as we travel to the storage facility,” Jack replied with a tight lipped smile.
Like I believe that story for a minute or that you are the rightful owner of the antimatter. No matter, there will be time to sort out who owns what when we actually find the antimatter.
 

“You are indeed perceptive, Captain. We should proceed to the top level greenhouse area. From the surface you will be able to get the lay-of-the-land, so to speak.”

“Lead on, Trader. We shall go reason with these unruly neighbors of yours.”

* * * * *

The Captain's column wound its way up seemingly endless staircases to ascend the four vertical kilometers to the top level of the station. There they emerged onto a verdant plane, an area that might have been mistaken for the surface of a planet until its topology became evident. Looking north or south the shape of the world was not noticeable, but looking east or west—locally called spinward and antispinward, respectively—presented a sight both wondrous and disquieting.

The world curved upwards, a ribbon of green and brown and ocean blue climbing to heaven in either direction. Scattered clouds dappled the landscape as it disappeared into darkness, narrowed by perspective while arching around the curvature of the gas giant. Just above the disk of the planet the local star shone, a fuzzy white smudge wreathed in streamers of dust. 

“The day-night cycle here must be more complicated than we thought,” JT commented. “The ring, and the planet's axis of rotation, are tilted 18-19 degrees with respect to the planet's orbital plane. As the planet orbits the star its tilt will cause the ring's exposure to change.”

“That is true, JT,” said Mizuki, getting astrophysical. “Twice a year the ring will be edge on to the star and be in permanent night. At other times the ring's interior will pass in and out of the sunlight due to its daily rotation, but the planet itself will eclipse the star when the angle is shallow.”

“That would cause a dark period somewhere in the middle of the day,” JT concurred. “Plus the length of the dark period would vary, depending on the axial orientation with respect to the star,”

“That's way too confusing,” Bear rumbled. “Conditions in the Arctic are much more sensible.”