7
Clement was up and prowling the decks well before the missiles were scheduled to arrive at 0600. When he arrived at the loading dock Middie Telco was already there. He checked his watch. 0540. Not bad for a rookie.
After exchanging pleasantries, the two went silent, both anticipating the same thing. Ten minutes later at 0550 the missiles started arriving. Clement jumped right in with directions for the dock techs and Telco.
The ship-to-ship missiles were five meters long and came in crates of two, with the warheads stored separately. The cargo bay had an automated racking system which pulled the missiles from their crates and then shipped them via a gantry loader up two decks and forward to the missile room where they were re-racked, waiting for their warheads to be installed. Telco had arranged for Middie Daniel to take care of the warheads, and he had them all loaded onto an open lift for travel. In Clement’s experience, it took about two hours to turn a load of crated missiles and a full complement of warheads into ready-racked missiles. Telco and Daniel had a lot of work ahead of them.
Once he was satisfied that the process was moving efficiently, Clement clicked the com to Daniel’s channel and gave the middies final instructions. “It’s 0615, Middies. My expectation is that you’ll have these missiles racked and loaded in the forward missile center by 0830 hours. I hope you don’t plan on disappointing me?”
“No, sir,” they both said in unison. Clement turned to address Telco directly. “As of this moment, Middie, you are my missile-room tech. That’s your station full time. Daniel, you will be his relief, covering the position while he eats, sleeps and pisses. Am I clear?”
There was a round of “aye, sirs” from the two middies.
Clement looked at Telco one more time. “I’m holding you personally responsible for making sure those nuke warheads are stored within a hand’s reach of the missiles at all times.”
Telco looked concerned. “Sir, Captain Wilcock has insisted that the nuke warheads stay in the ordnance hold under lock and key. Sir,” Telco said nervously.
“Unfortunately, Middie, Captain Wilcock is an idiot who has never had a ship command. You store them right where I said. If he wants to protest you come and get me. I’ll be coming by before we shove off to check your work, you can count on that,” Clement warned.
“Yes, sir. I’ll see to it, sir.”
“And one more thing. Make sure you rotate the rack so that six empty missiles are ready to be loaded with those nukes as soon as possible in an emergency situation. I don’t want to wait for sixty missiles to roll by if I need a nuke,” said the captain.
“Aye, sir,” said Telco.
Clement nodded, then left him to his work.
Next Clement checked in with Nobli in the propulsion room.
“Are we ready to go interstellar surfing yet, Mr. Nobli?” said Clement, surprising his engineer, who turned quickly from his station at the antimatter annihilation chamber.
“You should never surprise a man who controls enough power to wipe out a star system,” said Nobli, smiling. “Yes, sir, she’s ready to go. Xenon drive thrusters and the Ion plasma impellers have been test-fired as well. I think she’ll fly like a bumble bee, sir.”
Clement frowned at the metaphor. “Uh, I don’t know about where you’re from, Nobli, but on Ceta bumble bees are kind of slow, lazy fliers,” he said. Nobli was a native of Helios, like DeVore had been. The planet had no bees of any kind.
Nobli thought about that a minute. “Maybe I meant hummingbird,” he said, shrugging.
Clement had never seen a hummingbird. Story was they hadn’t been hardy enough to survive on the Rim worlds, but from what he knew, the analogy was a better match.
“I’ll take that then,” Clement said, and managed a wave to Middie Tsu, who was across a sea of pipes from the two men, adjusting a valve control as he waved back. Clement looked at his watch. “Just four and a half hours, Hassan, and we’re back among the stars.”
“Aye, sir. Never thought I’d see the day, but it’s good to have you back in uniform. It’s where you belong, sir.”
Clement looked down at his uniform, not one he had ever expected to wear again. “Don’t get sentimental on me, Nobli. I’ll have you running like a dog soon enough.”
“I bet you will, sir.”
Clement just nodded to his friend, then brought up another subject. “Have you done any research on other possible applications for the LEAP drive?”
Nobli looked at him sidelong. “Such as?”
Clement leaned in close to his engineer inside the noisy room. “Such as possible weapons applications? We are, after all, using a lot of energy in the drive.”
“That we are, sir. There are some theoretical papers. I’ve skimmed them.”
Clement stepped back. “Well, you’ll have about seventeen days to look into it. I’d like you to give me an option before we arrive at Trinity. Something that works, Nobli.”
Nobli nodded. “We do have the old forward plasma cannon array from the previous iteration of the Beauregard. Nobody uses those anymore. Last I saw it was still intact, but I don’t know if the piping could hold that kind of energy output.”
Clement nodded. “Well, check it out, and let me know in a couple of days, after you have everything LEAP-related running smoothly.”
“Will do, sir,” said Nobli, and then Clement was gone again.
Captain Clement sat and watched his crew from his command seat on the bridge. Ivan Massif was busy teaching young Middie Adebayor about some navigational principle or other. Mika Ori was at the helm, tinkering with the controls while reading a training manual on her hand pad. Yan’s station was empty, as it had been for the last two hours, and Captain Wilcock was taking up the engineering console, watching everything like a curly-haired hawk. As a precaution, Clement had shut off the engineering controls, so mainly Wilcock had to stare at a blank panel, and that was fine with Clement.
Clement looked at his watch again. 1140 hours. Still twenty minutes to go and everything was green to go on his master console. They’d missed their two-hour early ready mark, but that had just given him the excuse to yell at everyone again. He’d just got back from one last sweep of the Beauregard’s stations, even stopping too take an inventory of medical supplies with Lieutenant Pomeroy. It had been his third such sweep of the morning.
Finally, he’d had enough.
“Commander Yan to the bridge, please,” he said impatiently over the ship-wide com. A few seconds later and he heard her footsteps clanking on the open metal stairs to the bridge.
“I was just down in the galley having a last coffee,” she said casually as she keyed in the code to unlock her station.
“I’m glad someone’s relaxed,” Clement said, then he keyed in the code through his com panel to the Admiralty, and Elara DeVore. “Middie Adebayor, do you have a communications badge?”
“I do, sir,” she said after snapping around to him at attention.
“Then get on the engineering console and raise station traffic control.”
“Aye, sir,” she said, and started making her way to the console, which was occupied by Wilcock.
“Captain Wilcock,” said Clement, “I’m afraid you’ll have to sit this one out in your cabin.”
“But, I have—”
“It’s not my fault they made the bridge so small. You should register a complaint with the Admiral when you get back,” Clement deadpanned. Wilcock scowled at Clement but reluctantly relinquished the station to Middie Adebayor. The sound of Wilcock’s boots clinking down the short stairwell brought a smile to Clement’s face.
A second later and Admiral DeVore popped up on the main bridge display.
“I was just about to call in and wish you all good luck,” said the Admiral.
Clement smiled at her. “I’m actually just calling to ask for early clearance to depart. We’ve been ready for over an hour now . . . and frankly, I’m bored,” he said, lying.
DeVore laughed. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, Clement. Clearance is given. Good luck. We’ll see you in about a month.”
Clement stood. “Thank you, Admiral,” he said, and snapped off a departure salute.
At that DeVore switched off the feed from her end.
Clement turned to his middie. “Do you have Kemmerine Station traffic control on the line, Middie Adebayor?”
“I do, Captain.”
“Please inform them we are seeking early clearance from the dock. Fleet Admiral’s priority,” he said.
Adebayor repeated the same to traffic control and then got a positive beep in return.
“Stations, everyone. Prepare for departure,” said Clement.
Yan got on the ship-wide com and repeated Clement’s command. Within a minute all the boards showed fresh green lights again.
Clement turned to Mika Ori. “Lieutenant, you may shove off at your convenience,” he said.
“Aye, sir,” said Ori, then proceeded to turn to her station and cut the Beauregard’s moorings, using a tiny burst of the thrusters to move her away from the station. Once the ship was a hundred meters clear of the dock, Ori turned the ship expertly and began to accelerate using the thrusters, the station fading quickly behind her.
“Xenon thrusters making .0005 light, sir,” said Ori.
Clement acknowledged and then sat back in his chair for the first time as in-service captain of the Beauregard in fifteen years.
“Light up the Ion drive, Lieutenant. Increase speed constant to .025 light. That should give us about three hours to the jump-off point for the Trinity system.”
“Aye, sir,” said Ori, quickly turning and making adjustments on her console board. They all felt a slight tug at the increase in speed as Ori activated the Ion plasma drive.
Clement turned to Ivan Massif. “What’s our course, Navigator?” he asked.
“Generally on course for the Trinity system, sir,” replied Massif.
Clement looked at the lanky Russian. “Generally on course?”
Massif shrugged. “It’s not like navigating inside 5 Suns Alliance space, sir. Trinity is 11.5 light-years away. We can be off by quite a ways on our final target and still be well within the mission parameters, especially from this distance, sir. You don’t want me to fly her right into the Trinity star, do you?”
Clement smiled. “No, Ivan, I don’t. But if you don’t mind me asking, what will be our dropout point in the system?”
“Based on what the last probe did, we’ll be about ten AU out from the outermost planet, and that last planet is only about 0.06 AU from the Trinity star itself, sir,” said Massif.
“Six hundredths of an AU? How many klicks is that?”
“Just under nine million kilometers, sir,” chimed in Yan.
Clement mouthed a sardonic “thank you” without saying anything. “Those planets must be packed in tight,” he then commented.
“The three habitable worlds are within 2.5 million kilometers of each other, sir,” said Massif.
“Very close, then,” said Clement.
“Short orbital years too, sir. Four, six, and nine days, sir,” said Massif.
Clement whistled. “Just a fraction of 5 Suns Alliance space. This will be interesting flying, Mika. I hope you’re ready,” he said, turning to his pilot.
“Always ready, sir,” she replied. “But for now it’s just the milk run until we get that LEAP drive turned on. I could do it in my sleep, sir.”
“I bet you could, Mika.” Clement stood and took the short walk around his compact bridge. “Well, we’re on our way. The next milestone should be in about three hours when we turn the LEAP engine on. Until then, I’ll be in my cabin, monitoring. Call me if you need anything. And Commander Yan, call Captain Wilcock to the bridge to take the con. And tell him not to touch anything.”
“Aye, sir,” said Yan, smiling, as Clement departed the bridge.
Clement got a knock at his door, not an entry-request chime, mind you, but a real knock, about thirty minutes later. Clement pressed the open button on his desk and the door slid aside. To his surprise it was Yan, bearing a bottle of Argyle whiskey and a pair of drinking glasses. He stood to greet her.
“Why, Commander, this is most unexpected of you. Cutting into my alcohol rations already, I see.”
“I felt this was a moment worth celebrating,” she said as she sat down in one of his desk chairs. Clement joined her at the table and after popping the bottle, he poured a healthy portion of whiskey into the glasses. She took her glass and raised her hand in a toast. “To Captain Jared Clement, and the crew of the 5SN Beauregard,” she said.
“To the Beauregard.” They clinked glasses and then drank, Clement savoring the taste. “Ah, god, that’s good,” he said, leaning back in his chair and then swiveling slowly back and forth. “I wish they’d outfitted this cabin with a recliner.”
“For what? Watching tri-vee or your sports?”
“No, Yan. Just to have a drink in and read a good book.”
“We have millions of books in the ship’s library.”
“True. But reading off a pad isn’t as fun as holding a real book in your hands. Plus, there’s the thrill of the hunt.”
She frowned, looking perplexed. “Hunt? What do you mean?”
“Browsing through shops full of ancient leather-bound books. Finding just the right edition. I find it all very relaxing,” he said.
“More relaxing than the whiskey?”
“Much,” he said.
She put the cap back on the bottle. “Well, I think that’s enough celebrating for one day,” she said, then headed for the door. “Congratulations again, Captain,” she added. “I’ll see you on the bridge.”
“On the bridge, Commander,” he said, then finished his whiskey ration, savoring the taste.
Clement took over the bridge, relieving Wilcock, whom he exiled back to his quarters, with the Beauregard about twenty minutes from the agreed-upon jump coordinates. After running through reports from all his subordinates and doing his pad systems check, he called down to Hassan Nobli in the engine room.
“How’s our new baby?” he asked.
“Purring like a kitten, sir, but ready to leap on a moment’s notice.”
Clement smiled. “Was that a pun, Mr. Nobli?”
“Do I really have to tell you that?”
“No,” said Clement, smiling. “We’ll be arriving at the LEAP coordinates in about . . . ” Clement trailed off as he checked his watch. “Eighteen minutes. Will you be ready?”
“Most definitely, sir. Will you be coming down to watch?”
“Honestly, I hadn’t thought of that,” admitted Clement.
“We’ll give you a show, I promise. And if anything goes wrong, you’ll be one of the first to die,” joked Nobli.
Clement laughed. “Here’s to hoping nothing goes wrong. I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he said.
“Aye, sir.”
Clement slid out of the captain’s couch and nodded to Middie Adebayor at the engineering console. “Raise the Admiral, please, Middie.”
“Aye, sir,” she said. About thirty seconds later she had DeVore on the line and put her image up on the main bridge display.
After a second or two delay, DeVore smiled. “All ready?” she asked.
“Ready, Admiral,” Clement said. “Request permission to activate the LEAP drive and depart 5 Suns Alliance space.”
There was that hanging delay again, then DeVore said, “Permission granted, Captain Clement. Good luck.”
“Thank you, Admiral. We’ll see you sooner than you think.”
The local ansible network adjusted for the time delay at that moment and DeVore answered almost immediately. “Oh, I’m sure of that, Captain,” she said.
With that Clement saluted and gave Adebayor the cutoff signal. DeVore faded from the screen and was replaced by a ship’s system status view. Clement got on the all-ship com.
“Now hear this. All hands prepare for LEAP drive activation. Take all safety precautions. Captain Wilcock to the bridge,” he said, then hung up the com. He turned to Yan. “You have the con, Yan.”
“But sir, Captain Wilcock is the ranking—”
“Not on my ship, Yan. Now that we’re about to leap out of the Admiral’s jurisdiction, I make the rules. You have the con at all times in my absence, unless directed otherwise. Wilcock can take your station. I’ll be in the engineering room watching Mr. Nobli light this baby up.”
“Aye, sir.”
And with that Clement was gone, Yan slipping comfortably into his chair.
Clement entered the engine room with three minutes to spare. He shook hands with Nobli and his technicians, who numbered three if you included Middie Tsu. The two senior men then entered Nobli’s office, which had a full view of the engine apparatus and the console stations.
“You’ll want to watch this monitor, sir,” said Nobli, pointing to a display at the back of the room. Clement stepped up and examined it. It showed a diagram of the main LEAP drive components, the antimatter accelerator, the positive proton accelerator, the intermix reactor chamber, and the four drive infusers that would create the wave itself.
“I could monitor this from the bridge,” complained Clement. “Plus, I have my back to the reactor.”
Nobli shrugged. “Sorry about that, sir. But at least if something goes wrong you’ll have the knowledge that you’ll be annihilated into subatomic particles before you have any chance to gripe about it.” Then he turned to his techs. “Take your stations,” he ordered. Clement watched as the three young crew members took their stations. One, a woman, was at the antimatter accelerator, the second at the proton accelerator, and Middie Tsu was at the intermix console facing the reactor.
“Isn’t this just an automated process?” asked Clement.
Nobli shook his head. “I’ve been running this engine for six months, Captain. It can be temperamental. Each part of the process has to be carefully monitored and managed.”
“Like what, for instance?”
“Like when we just let the software run the system, the engine start can be rocky. We even blew up one of the probes when they opened the intermix chamber too early. I’ve isolated those problems and we’ve now got it down to a fine art.”
“Which is?”
Nobli never looked up from his board, nonplussed. “You have to let the protons warm up longer than the antimatter particles, by fractions of a second. If you release them too soon, sometimes things go boom. We give ourselves a safe margin, Captain. Don’t you worry.”
Clement turned to look at Middie Tsu at the intermix console. “Hassan, Tsu has only been on the ship for a day, and you’ve got him controlling the intermix chamber.”
“I’ve run him through the process, sir; he’s good at following orders.” That didn’t fill Clement with confidence.
Nobli looked at his watch. “Final reports,” he called out with one minute on the clock. They all gave their assent to go. “Stand by for LEAP drive initiation on my mark.”
Clement waited as Nobli counted down to ten seconds, then he took a deep breath and looked away from the crew and to his assigned monitor.
“Initiate proton accelerator,” said Nobli from behind him. The left side of the monitor turned an icy blue. Seven seconds.
“Initiate antimatter accelerator.” This time the right side lit up bright yellow. Five seconds.
The wait seemed like forever. Clement forced his attention to stay stuck to his monitor and let Nobli and his crew do their jobs. The last seconds clicked by . . .
“Now, Tsu! Open the reactor chamber!”
The entire board lit up a vibrant green as the energy filled the main chamber and then tracked outward along the four spines of the infusers, encompassing the drive carousel in an instant.
The carousel started spinning on the monitor.
“Confirm readouts,” yelled Nobli as the LEAP drive hummed to life.
“Confirmed!” said the excited female tech from her station. “We have positive confirmation of a contained LEAP wave bubble.”
“Are we moving yet?” asked Clement, turning away from his monitor.
“Just a second,” said Nobli, holding up his hand. Then he smiled, relieved. “We’re moving sir, .16 light and accelerating.”
“How long—”
“Until we go superluminal? About two minutes at the recommended acceleration rate, sir,” he said, not the least bit intimidated about interrupting his captain.
Now Nobli came to Clement’s station. The two men watched in silence as the monitor showed steadily increasing levels of power, and steadily increasing speed. Almost dead on two minutes and the ship seemed to shift ever so slightly.
“That’s it, sir, we’re superluminal. 1.05 light speed!”
“Well done, Nobli,” said Clement, shaking his chief engineer’s hand, then repeating, “well done,” to the three techs as he went and shook each of their hands. Clement started clapping and the rest of them all joined in. “Congratulations to you all. Well done,” he said a third time as the com bell chimed.
Clement brought up the signal on his monitor. “Yes, Yan,” he said.
“Captain,” she replied. “You should come up here and see this. It’s . . . spectacular.”
“On my way, Yan,” he said, then gave a last wave to the propulsion team and scrambled back across the cargo hold and up the gangway to the bridge.
Yan was right. Looking at the forward visual display was like looking at space through a fishbowl. Stars of all colors swept past them as they cruised by, the tiny dots representing passing stars, pulsars, globular clusters, nebula, and even distant galaxies. They all floated past the external camera and then twisted and distended as the Beauregard moved through the quantum fluid of distorted space, riding her wave of bent gravity at an ever increasing pace. Clement had to remember to breathe as he watched the sight go by on the bridge’s three-dimensional monitor.
Spectacular indeed.
All one could really do was look at the passing starfield and marvel, but even that got repetitive. Mika Ori, for her part, called it “romantic,” with a warm, knowing glance directed at her significant other. In a way he found himself envious of the two of them. They had something he had never had, and likely never would. Their obvious love for one another had never waned in the decade-plus he had known them.
Clement ordered the two of them to cross-train all the middies, just in case, and as a way of getting them to focus on something else besides each other.
Then he left the bridge, letting out a heavy sigh as he slowly navigated the hollow metal steps to his cabin, alone.