The Sails of Tau Ceti (6 page)

The subminister opened the dossier and began to read: “Garth Martin Van Zandt. Age: 36. Born: January 9, 2204 in New Aberdeen, South Wales, Australasian Confederation. Graduated Terrestrial Space Academy, 2226. You ranked in the top one-third of your class. You have held the usual progression of shore and space jobs, and have served aboard ships of both the messenger and corvette class. You were promoted to command the destroyer
Currant
fourteen months ago. You are unmarried, physically healthy, and overdue for leave. Correct?”

“On all counts, Mr. Subminister.”

Sadibayan let his brown eyes focus on Van Zandt. “You may be interested in the fact that Admiral Carnevon speaks very highly of you. He says that you are one of his brightest officers, resourceful and flexible in your response to new situations. ‘An Original Thinker,’ was the way he described you.”

“I’ll have to thank the admiral the next time I see him.”

Sadibayan continued reading. “You have also served a tour as military attaché in our LaGrange embassy, so you are at least aware of diplomacy.”

“Yes, sir.”

“One thing puzzles me, Captain. Why did you spend so much time in corvettes?”

Van Zandt shrugged. “I made the mistake of embarrassing one of my superiors during my first tour as a ship commander. It was during an exercise against the fleet flagship.
Minotaur
was in a high elliptical orbit around Luna, with a low perilune. I put my corvette down practically on the mountaintops, popped up while
Minotaur
was making its close approach to the surface, and put two simulated missiles into her. The flagship’s commander was Aaron Dalgren. He filed a formal protest alleging that I had endangered both ships and crews. The protest was not upheld by the referees.

“Unfortunately, Captain Dalgren was promoted to admiral shortly afterward, and given command of all fleet corvettes. He made it clear that he was very irritated with me. I only recently worked my way out of purgatory and managed to get promoted to destroyers.”

“You made quite a name for yourself considering the fact that you were in official disfavor. You won the Rickover Award, I believe.”

“I had a good crew, and I was lucky.”

Sadibayan leaned back. He placed his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers in front of him. “How would you like to go back to corvettes, Captain?”

“Sir?”

“Your superiors have given me the power to offer you command of a corvette. Interested?”

“Is that what this is all about?”

Sadibayan nodded.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Subminister, but my career plans do not include backsliding.”

“Is that what you would consider it?”

“Yes, sir. You have to understand how it is in the space navy. An officer works his way up through the fleet, commanding ever larger and more important ships. There are not that many of them. If you miss your turn, you become stuck in grade. If I give up
Currant
, I have lost my opportunity to prove myself in destroyers. That means I will never advance to cruisers.”

Sadibayan’s look was one that Van Zandt could not quite decipher. “Captain, we would like you to command is the corvette
Austria
. She was decommissioned two years ago and sold to the Martians as a customs craft. They just finished overhauling her. As we speak, she is being modified to mate with the
Starhopper
booster. The mission is to take her out beyond Pluto, and once there, to intercept an inbound alien starship.”

Van Zandt regarded the small chocolate colored man for half a minute without speaking. He could not decide whether the subminister was serious, or merely possessed a defective sense of humor. When the silence had stretched uncomfortably long, he cleared his throat and said, “You can forget what I said about not leaving
Currant
, sir. I accept the command!”

Sadibayan grinned. “I thought you would.”

“How long will we be out?”

“Three years, more or less,” the subminister replied in an off hand manner. “Depends on the aliens, of course.”

At the mention of aliens, Van Zandt’s mouth popped open.

#

Sadibayan went on to review the data Luna Observatory had gathered on the light sail. Van Zandt listened with intense concentration. It became obvious that Admiral Carnevon had not been told why the Ministry for Science needed a naval officer. He did not particularly like that, or the political approach that was being taken. On the other hand, it was not his job to like it. He had been offered command of the expedition, which was more than sufficient for one career. He pushed the misgivings from his mind and concentrated on what Sadibayan was telling him.

Austria
had been one of the oldest ships in Earth’s fleet before it had been sold to the Martians. The extreme delta V necessary for rendezvous required that the corvette be stripped of all nonessential systems. The weapons had been the first things dismounted from the ship. Not only were they excess mass, no one wanted to send the wrong message by dispatching a functioning warship to intercept an alien starship. Out beyond Pluto, it seemed, diplomacy would be its own reward.

With the weapons had gone the targeting computers, both magazines, and the crew bunks. Cold sleep tanks were being installed in what had been the bunkroom.
Austria
’s new crew would spend much of the outbound flight in suspended animation, both to extend their limited supply of consumables, and to make the voyage go by more quickly. The ship’s life support system would sustain them for a minimum of five years, but they had only sufficient food stocks to keep eating for two.

“How many crew?” Van Zandt asked after Sadibayan told him about the cold sleep tanks.

“That is still under study. A minimum of four. If the engineers can squeeze a bit more margin out of their calculations, we may send six. For now, the crew consists of yourself, a ship’s engineer, a linguist, and a combination biologist/medical doctor.”

“Do I get to pick the engineer?”

“Sorry, no. By Hobson’s choice, the ship’s engineer will be a young lady by the name of Victoria Bronson. She is the only one who can make the necessary software modifications on the fly.”

“Surely a naval officer could learn what he needs to know.”

“Believe me, Captain. We have looked into this matter extensively. So far as this expedition goes, Miss Bronson is more necessary than you are.”

“What about the other crew members?”

“The ship’s doctor and exobiologist has tentatively been chosen, as well.”

“Who?”

“Actually, I believe she is Dardan Pierce’s personal physician.”

“Damn it, Subminister, cronyism is no way to staff a ship.”

“Actually, Captain, I’m told that she is quite competent. You will be given the opportunity to meet her, of course, and if you find you can’t work with her, then I suppose we can bring the matter up.”

“What are this doctor’s qualifications?” Van Zandt asked. He was becoming less and less enchanted with his new command by the second.

“The problem is political. Pierce demanded that he be allowed to choose a member of the crew other than Miss Bronson. That was his price for allowing us to take over the
Starhopper
.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t demand to go himself.”

Sadibayan smiled, as though he had just thought of a joke. “Please, Captain, don’t give him any ideas.”

“What about the fourth crewman?”

“That would be the linguist. We are searching for a qualified individual right now. Any suggestions?”

“I’d like the opportunity to review the candidates before any offers are made.”

“Of course, Captain.”

“What about someone to negotiate with the aliens once we get there?”

“Unless we’re allocated another berth, I’m afraid that job will fall to you, Captain Van Zandt. Think you can handle it?”

“I can try. What other modifications are they making to the corvette?”

Sadibayan listed several systems that were being upgraded for the long journey. Among these were
Starhopper
’s twin computers that were being installed in the corvette’s Number One hold. A large microwave communications antenna was being anchored to the ship’s hull.

“Why microwave?” Van Zandt asked. “A comm laser is a lot more efficient across that sort of distance.”

“A comm laser looks too much like a weapon. One powerful enough to punch a message from beyond Pluto also would be good at carving on the alien ship.”

“It doesn’t really matter, I suppose,” Van Zandt mused. “We’ll be too far out for two way communications anyway.”

“It isn’t for conversations. We want a continuous broadcast of your approach to the alien.”

“In case they destroy us, you mean.”

Sadibayan nodded. “That would be most unfortunate.”

“I would call it a major tragedy.”

The subminister was unsmiling as he shook his head. “It will only be a major tragedy, Captain, if they destroy you and we don’t learn how it was done.”

CHAPTER 5

Moscow has its St. Basil’s Cathedral; Paris, the Eiffel Tower; and San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge. Every great city possesses its signature monument or architectural masterpiece, a symbol by which it is known. Olympus, Mars, was no exception. The structure that symbolized the Martian capital rose two full kilometers above the northernmost rim of the volcano’s caldera. Its builders had dubbed it the Adverse Weather Communications Facility. Everyone else called it
The Aerie
.

Communications between the surface and the orbital relay satellites were via comm laser. No other transmission medium had the bandwidth to handle the necessary volume of information. In the early days of the colony, dust storms had blotted out the visible light lasers for weeks and even months at a time. The colony had been forced to fall back on radio circuits, which were themselves none too reliable in the spring and fall when the Martian dust was blowing.

Because the rim of Olympus Mons was already some 25 kilometers above the arbitrary “zero elevation” line that substituted for sea level on Mars, the Olympus city fathers built a communications tower to finish the job of getting above the worst of the obscuring dust. The comm lasers atop the tower were maintained in continuous standby mode, ready to take over should their ground-based counterparts become obscured. The glass sphere that housed them also included a restaurant, a bar, and a small banquet facility. These made The Aerie a favorite dining spot for both Earth tourists and the Martian upper crust.

Shortly after its completion, Victoria Bronson’s third grade class had visited The Aerie. They had ridden the lift two kilometers up the side of the tower to stand with noses pressed against the curved glass wall as they
oohed
and
aahed
at the panoramic view. Tory found herself again staring out across the lighted domes of Olympus. This time she was deep in thought concerning the voyage on which she was about to embark. She did not hear Praesert Sadibayan come up behind her until he spoke.

“Ah, Miss Bronson, there you are! May I present Captain Garth Van Zandt, Terrestrial Space Navy? He will command
Austria
on the expedition.”

Tory let her eyes focus on the man with Sadibayan. He was medium tall, with sandy hair and a light complexion. His features were nondescript save for his eyes, which were blue and commanding. His figure was terrestrial muscular. After a few seconds, she realized that he was examining her with equal intensity. She blushed as their eyes met.

“Captain Van Zandt,” she said, holding out her hand, “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“The name is Garth.”

“I’m Tory to my friends.”

“Very well, Tory. May I buy you a drink?”

“Of course.”

Van Zandt turned to Sadibayan and bowed. “Thank you, Mr. Subminister. If you will excuse us … ”

“By all means,” Sadibayan replied. He quickly turned on his heel and made his way back to the main reception.

There was an awkward silence as they both stood looking out across the lighted city. It was broken finally when Tory said; “I didn’t expect you so soon. Mr. Sadibayan said that he would have to send to Earth for a naval officer. That was … five days ago.”

Van Zandt laughed. “Sounds about right. My orders read ‘by the fastest available transportation.’ The subminister saw to it that I followed those orders to the letter. I will be days recovering. I take it that you people are in a hurry.”

Tory nodded and explained the desire to meet the alien as far out as possible. Van Zandt listened intently. He had his own suspicions about why everyone was so rushed. As a student of military history, he knew the advantages that flow from being one of the few privy to a closely held secret.

When she finished, he said, “I’d like to hear more. Let’s get that drink and find some place quiet where we can talk.”

An hour later, Tory found herself laughing at a long improbable story about how Van Zandt had arranged to have a case of caviar destined for fleet headquarters rerouted to his ship’s mess.

“Didn’t the admiral ever figure it out?” she asked.

“Never. My exec is now known around the fleet as the Great Stone Face.”

All of the awkwardness was gone as she laughed again. They were supposed to be reviewing the details of the mission. However, their discussions left plenty of room for war stories.

“I have to say, Garth, that you aren’t what I expected.”

He arched his left eyebrow.

“When they sent for an Earth naval officer to command, I guess I expected some hard driving martinet.”

“A cross between Horatio Hornblower, Captain Bligh and Captain Kirk, perhaps?” he asked.

“Something like that.”

“There’s a kernel of truth in the popular misconception that commanding officers are sons-a-bitches and martinets,” Garth admitted, “but only a kernel. Commanding a spaceship is far more complicated than the challenges those old sea and wind sailors ever faced. The equipment requires a higher level of training, the medium is far more deadly than the ocean ever was, and space crews expect to be treated like the professionals they are. A captain who resorts to the cat-o-nine-tails may find his cabin suddenly vented to space some night. No, people work best when you interfere with them least. Not that situations do not arise that call for a steady hand on the tiller, you understand. On the few occasions I do pull rank, I expect to be obeyed instantly.”