Copyright © 1997, 1998
Last updated on 1/21/98
Abdul Schmud's Cabin - 02:03
As the message comes over the intercom, Abdul rolls over in his sleep and mutters something about having to disable the intercom while he's sleeping. When the urgency of the message forces its way into his dreams, he rolls out of bed; staggers off the floor and he begins pulling on the nearest available clothing dispite his sleep induced instability.
"Pater, inform the rest of the sci team, that I'm on my way."
With that he finishes dressing and starts hurrying to the compartment.
"Keyaho! Here we go, people," Bhyarrvouf says suddenly, sitting up straight in the Command chair. The featureless grey of Jump space ripples like a bad mirage and breaks up, resolving itself into velvet black night and a glorious band of stars: the Orion Arm of the Galaxy.
Akhouw gives a soft, approving prrrrowl as he looks at the endless expanse of the Rift. Ger's fingers dance across the boards. "Maneuver drives on line and waiting, sir. Sensor data," he looks over his shoulder at Aiwi, "Now nominal."
Nishu scans the incoming stellar position data, and looks up, grinning. "Spang on target, Captain. We missed by MAYBE half a kilometer."
"Great," Bhyarrvouf smiles. "Nice work, Chief Aiwi, Mister Neriika." He reaches for the All-Call....
"Captain," Nanadh says softly from the Helm position, "Where's the tanker?"
"Erf?" Bhyarrvouf's hand stops just shy of the switch. He turns to the holodisplay Aiwi is quickly calling up at her station.
Nothing is there. No tanker, no wreckage, nothing. The area is clean.
The seconds tick by slowly, before the stomach-twisting ripple of reality rolls through the room.
Rafe watches everyone else wince from the nerve-mangling gravitational disturbance that passes through the ship as the Jump field collapses. Ah, he thinks, we must be Out. Wonder if Yorblin could tell me why I never feel it?
Lazer recovers quickly from jumpout, and turns immediately to the external tactics display, previously set up to repeat from bridge. He waits for the display to fill in around the Elissa symbol, ten, fifteen seconds with increasing impatience. Irritated, he keys for a refresh--still nothing.
In small pink letters, the statistics read: "Tracking 00 ships 00 unpowered objects / Sensor data 023-1120 0203 46.1 / Integrating."
Lazer whispers, "Bloody hell..."
Kakh pruotsin tsakha...! thinks Rafe, mixing multilingual profanity with abandon.
Akhouw merely leans back and gravely surveys the unsettling LACK of sensor data. After a few moments, his furry brow goes up in silent comment, then sinks back to normal, and his orange orbs continue their fruitless task to discern something, anything, that SHOULD be there.
A very small snort is his only further comment.
"Fuck...me," Bhyarrvouf says softly. He closes his eyes for a moment and whispers, "Aerrghzoum KIMIKH." [Panic LATER.] Then he flicks on the intercom and begins switching across channels.
CLICK << Science Division, this is the Bridge. All sensors should be hot and running, or else. Doctor Smythe, you are GO to launch VLA Drones, I repeat, you are GO to launch VLA drones. If Mister Shrike isn't on hand to help you, call him in ASAP. Bridge out. >>
CLICK << Security, this is the Bridge. Lazer, keep your men on alert for now; something's not right here, and I want people ready to move in case it's something we have to fight rather than run away from. I'll fill you in when I know more. Bridge out. >>
<< Security here. We copy. Farouk out. >>
CLICK << Medical, this is the Bridge. Stand down from Alert status for now, but someone should stay awake and available for the time being. If we spot the "Hole," Medical should be ready to go back on alert. Bridge out. >>
<< Medical, aye. >> replies Dr. Yorblin. << I'll remain on duty, and Dr. Limner will be available in aboard Igor. >>
"Well, that was a good exercise." comments Dr. Yorblin. " Dr. 'Khea, you may shut down. Dr. DaSilva, you have the 'B' watch, so you might catch some "Z's". Dr. Tabor, you may also stand down. Dr. Limner, I'll stand your watch down here, why don't you stay buttoned up there in Igor, give me a status report if something interesting should appear."
DaSilva rolls his eyes and sighs, "Right, I'll be in my quarters, finishing up on the sleep I was supposed to be getting now." and drags his PLSS unit out of sickbay, muttering something under his breath about "...damned waste of time, making me put on this stupid vacc suit and come up here..."
CLICK << Riders, leave your sensors on line and piped to PATER, but stand down from alert status. M'syoor de Mer, stay in the fighter until further notice; Mister Talon, power down the Command Shuttle to warm standby and come on back in. Mister van der Merwe, you can stand down from the Aurora. Goughzar, vreskegh ghuekzhabh Kharrbyegh. Aolrkhea', Hfolraw, you may stand down from the Khtaliyr. Bridge out. >>
Talon's voice is heard over the intercom. << Roger. Command Shuttle powering down. Do you want me for anything else at the moment? >>
<< Technically you'll be on standby, Mister Talon, but if you want to get some rest before your helm shift you should do so. >>
"Fe Captain."
Goughzar scans the data as it rolls into the holodiplay and analyzes it quickly. Shortly thereafter, growls resolve into screams in a short period "kae.. Tsakha... YAURR!! URR KEDHAENGBHASTO!!!!"
On the cozy bridge of the Aurora, Christian has loosened the harness on the acceleration couch, and with feet propped up on the center console, he has been flipping through holo-diagrams of rewired computer circuitry when the call comes through.
Christian swings his feet down. "Great!" The diagrams vanish into nothing. "Yo, Moira, give me a local-area holo, display all ships and debris in enhanced mode." _Executing._ The modest-sized bridge holoprojector clicks on and displays a holosphere of local space. _Other than the Elissa, no ships or debris detected. Continuing to scan, sir._
Christian stares at the vacant holo. "NOT GREAT!" His disbelief compels him to vainly search for even the tiniest bit of junk, but that eludes him. His voice subsides to a reverent, near-whisper. "Jesus H. Christ on a popsickle stick." He thinks for a moment, and a tinge of worry creeps into his face. "Ah, um, Moira, conduct stellar navigation scan. Pinpoint location and identify nearest inhabited system within maximum jump; compute nav-coordinates and jump vector."
_Understood. Beginning scan._
Christian shakes his head in worried disbelief, and offers a silent prayer before sinking back into the couch and waiting for further developments.
A short pause. Bhyarrvouf looks worried.... then....
CLICK << Engineering, that was one sweet Jumpout. Perfect work all around. My compliments to your staff, Mister Munro. >>
<< Bridge. Engineering. Thank you Captain. We aim to please. When can we start refuelling, Sir? The tanks are as dry as my father's lectures. >>
'Vouf looks distinctly uncomfortable for a moment. << We'll inform you when we're ready to begin the fueling process, Mister Munro. No time estimate on it just yet. Bridge out. >>
Akhouw watches his Captain, very, very carefully for a long moment. If *he* is worried, then.... He moves his left paw out of sight, and with an effort of will forces his dewclaw back into its natural sheath.
'Vouf flicks off the comm, and says to no one in particular, "I would very much like to know what happened to the ship that held the fuel for our ride home, not to mention the rest of the stuff that was sitting here all nice and cozy when we LEFT. I am making it the priority of ALL within earshot to provide me with that information a soon as possible. Clear?"
"Mister Nanadh, station-keeping only. We've only got fuel for 24 days or so at full burn; I want to save it. Akhouw, you and Aiwi run a tactical scan of the area, filtered through the big Science sensors; coordinate with Science for help, but try not to start a panic. Mister Neriika, doublecheck the stellar references and make sure we aren't missing something obvious, then join the Execs. When the VLA data comes online, USE IT... it's the best hope we have. I'm going down to engineering for a moment. Akhouw, you have the Conn." He gets up and strides out calmly; by the time the iris valve closes, however, all on the Bridge can hear that he's started running....
Akhouw stands at his Tactical station and formally bows as Bhyarrvouf vacates the command chair and exits the bridge, waiting until the iris valve closes before stepping over to the command chair. He pauses before he sits, thoughtfully gazing at the iris valve, muttering inaudibly in He surveys the sensor data for a short time, then addresses his co-Exec. "Crew Chief Aiwi, please ready Tactical Scan, protocol Khtakh-Alpha. Priority neutrino scan. Engage when ready." He sits back in his chair, softly, dangerously growling.
"At once, sir," aiwi says crisply, turning to the display.
Five minutes later, Zben steps out of his room, turns and heads for the grav lift. Stopping just short, he glances at the time display. "Ah, it's only Oh Trey. I've got plenty of time." He starts to straighten his twisted suit, when... **_T_W_I_S_T_**
The jumpout wave washes over him, leaving him shaken, and sweaty. For a moment he fears losing, well, not breakfast, but whatever IS contained in his stomach. Slowly, slowly, the feeling passes. He glances at the grav-lift, and his stomach flips again, thinking that he might been in it when the wave hit. Looking at his time display, he's shocked to note that almost 3 minutes have passed! Shaking his head he dives into the lift, and emerges a moment later on deck 4, just in time to see a very familiar furry figure running flat out toward Engineering. Turning toward the Bridge Zben would not have been surprised to see a ravaging stravenger bearing down on him. Nothing. With a quiet "Oh, shit.... We've got troubles...." he turns and races for the Bridge.
> _Attention, all hands, attention. Jumpout approach procedures, all > hands, all decks. Engineering and Bridge personnel to stations, > Science Division personnel to the Sensor Suite. Medical and Security > to alert status._
Before PATER can finish the announcement Etienne is rolling out of his bunk. He has one leg in his vacc suit before there is even a hint of awareness in his eyes. By the time his suit is fully on he is mostly conscious. After a quick check to make sure his blade, PRIS binoculars and handcomp are still attached to the belt hanging next to the door he flops back onto his bunk and, suspiciously, his eyes slowly fall shut. Until...
The sickening waves of unreality pass through the cabin. Etienne's eyes open and the muscles around his jaw tense but moments after jump- out is over his eyes slowly close again. Until...
>CLICK << Riders, leave your sensors on line and piped to PATER, but >stand down from alert status. M'syoor de Mer, stay in the fighter >until further notice...
Etienne's eyes snap open. "PATER can you replay that last message from the Captain?"
...Repeat of Mesage...
Moments later, "Merde! Does he think I'm telepathic or something?" Even as he is cursing, though, Etienne is on his way out the door and heading for the aft hangar bay, having paused only long enough to grab his belt and fix a comdot in his ear and on his throat.
CLICK << Pater can you start warming up the fighter? And let the Captain know I'm on my way there. >>
_The fighter is warming up, Mister de Mer._
Merkle is polishing the faceplate of his helmet, when the lurch of his stomach and the pulsing light level before his eyes tells him, the Elissa has made the transit. Instinctively he grabs a handhold, steadying himself for the few seconds as his senses return to normal.
<< Dr. Smythe...Merkle here. You sound great! We appear to be ready. I'm prepping for hold evacuation. We'll wait for everyone to get into position and for your go ahead, Doctor. >>
No sooner than Smythe had reassured herr doktor Morser that he'd be ok, than he spies Mr. Shrike rushing into the cargo hold. << Ahoy, there Mr. Shrike... welcome to the party! grab a horse and lets git tooit! Duey over there should be all warmed up and ready to go. I gottim start'd 'n auddo-warmupp when I got 'ere earlier. B'tter 'urry up, tho', we're gonna git the gittgo any sec now. >>
<< Roger mister Smythe, Duey it is. >> Shrike boards and seals the pod. "Pater, the checklist please." As Pater recites the checklist Shrike begins the pre-flight check.
At that instant, Bhyarrvouf's launch order hits the cargo bay.
<< Bridge, Smythe 'ere. Cap'n, VLA's been on hot-standby. Mr. Shrike's just arrived. we're good to go. Launch in 3 minutes. Deploy in five t'ten. Data'll b'yawn line in 10 plus. Doktorr Morser, y'all copied that? Smythe out. >>
<< Smythe to Merkle. Boris?! We've got the gittgo! Ready to draw down the hold and launch! >>
Merkle studies the indicators on his helmet HUD...
<< Copy on that Doctor Smythe. Everyone appears ready..oops..hold tight there's an airlock cycling. >>
The bow airlock in cargo bay #1 slips open and Adrian Bishop steps out dressed in his tailored vacc-suit, fishbowl helmet, and a PLSS-A. A set of standard dockyard gear packs are clipped to his suit harness, and he give them a tug just to insure that eveything is secure. As he rounds the end of the forward-most VLA rack, walking in the odd, flat- footed steps familiar to everyone who has ever worn mag-boots, he waves to Smythe in his workpod, and his comm clicks on.
<< Hi, doc. I'm one of your stevedores-du-jour. Boris should be here momentarily. >>
Meanwhile, across the cargo deck, inside Igor, the emergence into real space is noted by Dr. Limner as just another item in this trips data set. His scan of the sensor screen in front of him never wavers. A minute passes. Two. With a slight frown Limner checks the diagnostic telltale on the array. Everything is green. He boosts the gain, but gets only the typical `background noise' that he has come to associate with unrealized psionic potential. He watches for another minute, then flips a switch. "Igor, maintain surveillence of panel P-1, report any anomalous readings in excess of .2 microjoules." _Confirming. Monitor link established_
A glance out the window shows the lights go on in the starboard pod. A figure can be seen. Going forward to the corridor outside the bridge, Limner removes from the locker a Lightduty Vac suit, and puts it on, neglecting to close the soft helmet at this point. Returning to the workshop he takes the three hypo sprayers and loads them into a standard multishot vacumm applicator, which he slides into an exterior pouch.
"Igor, bring all systems to full standby, including propulsion. Prepare to disengage cargo grapples, on my command. Also prepare for grav-free vacumm manuvers," (pauses for a beat) "also, activate extreior cameras and RF antennas and feed EVA suit frequencies to interior monitor." _Confirmed. All systems ready, no reported problems, communications monitoring established_
Boris gives a few waves to catch Adrian's eye as he circles 'round the end of the VLA vehicle. Sounding positively cheerful..
<< Ahoy there Mr. Bishop, I'm right over here.. Hahaha that's right, over *here*. Okay folks let's pump 'er! >>
<< PATER. Please secure all Hold 1 airlocks, and lifts. Intiate program "deploy one point one". >>
Lazer stands and turns. "Our rendezvous is missing. Until we find out why, we're on full alert. Break out the rifles, Azani. Kor, you and Berana have the console. Everyone else, combat armour. Snap to it!
Rafe snaps to his feet and hits the locker with his armor. Skinning out of his tailored vacc suit, he thinks, Damn good thing I took the time to paint my armor last week....
<< Farouk to Jonson and Horne. Full alert, unknown threat. Farouk out. >>
Tar is at the console immediately. "PATER Display views of EVA activity, bridge, and main engineering. Check Security comm channel and route all security transmissions through it. Flag and identify all cycling airlocks, but do not restrict access to EVA team or to transfering rider personel"
Fingers bouncing along, Tar calls up repeaters for the environmental controls and checks their status.
Only when all is ready and has been checked does Tar seat himself in one of the console station chairs.
Like a seasoned veteran, Azani proceeds to pass the rifles out to the security team. After completing passing the rifles, he dons his combat armour swiftly. The jet black armour hiding inside a man trained to kill without question, the black HUD of the face plate hiding the predator within. Azani checks the internals of his armor with all systems go. He then grabs his own rifle and preps it up for a fire fight. He grabs his scimitar and places it on his back. Azani then pushes a code sequence on his combat armour and for a brief moment, shimmers then stops.
"Sir, all systems operating within acceptable perameters, all personnel equipped with specified equipment. We are prepared to encounter threat," says Azani with a cold, monotone voice.
With swift, controlled motions, Lazer accepts his rifle from Azani, does a quick field test, and begins dressing in combat armour.
As the Hold is depressurized, Merkle keeps his eyes peeled for any movement around the hold that might indicate loose objects.
Depressurization complete, << Okay folks we're still here! Time to open her up. >>
<< Bridge, this is Merkle in Hold 1. We're cracking the hold hatchways. << PATER please initiate program 'deploy one point two. >>
The stained and scuffed hold doors to port and starboard silently roll up revealing the beautiful panorama of open space. Taking but a moment to drink in the sight, << Bridge, Hold 1 is now environment free. VLA deployment on Dr. Ostyn Smythe's command.
<< Shrike here, pre-flight check complete, just give the word. >>
<< Dr. Smythe, the crowds are hushed, the bit players are in the wings and ready! The spotlight shines at center stage!
<< It's time to step up to the mic..the Passion Play is yours! >>
Boris grins to himself, knowing full well the doubts that Ostyn has, but he knows the scientist has been waiting for this moment for some time, and Boris is confident he hasn't pushed the Doctor's nerves *too* far.
<< Aolrkhea', >> comes Hfolraw's voice from the Khtaliyr bridge, << there's nothing more for me to do here. I'm shutting down helm functions. >>
Aolrkhea' has been staring, unblinking at the empty display. Yet her fingers have been moving at high speed, exchanging holo views. Her ears twitch. "I shall remain here. Perhaps the Khtaliyr's eyes and ears may by chance find our elusive prey.
She taps the comlink. << Medical, KCR Khtaliyr is standing down. I will remain on station until ordered otherwise. Aolrkhea' out. >> A holo panel is accessed and only sensors and computer remain active.
Another panel. Moments later the displays bog down as a hastily written program ties up computer cycles, crunching on gravimetric wave data as it is sucked in from the sensors. "What pattern history can I establish before our presence disrupts the area?" Aolrkhea' growls.
The computers results are precise and disappointing: there are no measurable gravimetric disturbances in the area, according to the best performance the Khtaliyr's densitometers can give. The Elissa is alone. A few minutes later, the VLA drone pods leave the Elissa, and further attempts to read the background are muddled.
Meanwhile, on the Aslan bridge, Hfolraw makes another comm-call. << Major Farouk, Hfolraw. The Captain has told us to stand down, so I'll be available in just few minutes, as soon as I can bring systems down here. Do you want me in the armoury? >>
<< PATER. Please secure all Hold 1 airlocks, and lifts. Intiate program "deploy one point one". >>
He sees one spacesuited figure waving at another. Moving forward toward the bridge he pauses in the corridor leading to front hatch, and throws a switch. An airtight door with a small window slides across, creating a crude `airlock', one that could hold at most three people dressed as he is, two in normal vacc-suits.
Arriving on the bridge, and sitting in the pilot chair, he activates the monitor bank around him. Through the large view port in front he can see most of what's going on. The exterior cameras bring images `upclose and personal'. He sits back, anticipating seeing the VLA array deploy. And waiting.
As the Hold is depressurized, Merkle keeps his eyes peeled for any movement around the hold that might indicate loose objects.
Depressurization complete, << Okay folks we're still here! Time to open her up. >>
<< Shrike here, pre-flight check complete, all ready. >>
<< Bridge, this is Merkle in Hold 1. We're cracking the hold hatchways. << PATER please initiate program 'deploy one point two. >>
The stained and scuffed hold doors to port and starboard silently roll up revealing the beautiful panorama of open space. Taking but a moment to drink in the sight, << Bridge, Hold 1 is now environment free. VLA deployment on Dr. Ostyn Smythe's command.
<< Dr. Smythe, the crowds are hushed, the bit players are in the wings and ready! The spotlight shines at center stage!
<< It's time to step up to the mic..the Passion Play is yours! >>
Boris grins to himself, knowing full well the doubts that Ostyn has, but he knows the scientist has been waiting for this moment for some time, and Boris is confident he hasn't pushed the Doctor's nerves *too* far.
Smythe taps his console to get a private link to Merkle. << Boris, were you successful regarding our prior discussion? An occasion such as this just _screams_ for Vaughner... So, if you please, the time for the ceremonial 'Ride of the Valkeries' is at hand. >>
A deep chuckle can be heard through the Hold commlink! << PATER, please run program Ostentatious Ostyne, please! >>
Smythe waits for the blaring of the valkies, smiles, consciously forces himself to relax, lest he get _too_ excited and careless, then switches to a shipwide comm channel... << YEEEHHHAAAAHHHH!!! We have a go! Launch the VLA! >>
Switching back to a local net...
<< The word is given: LAUNCH! Let's gitt this dog'n ponie show on the road! Mr. Bishop, if'd you'd be so kind as to do me the 'onors on the portside, then Mr. Merkle, you'kn give Mr. Shrike a hand on starboard. >>
<< Smythe to Capn' 'Voouf, Aye'll 'ave that datta ferrya n'bout 15 minutes, sir... >>
<< Captain to Pod One. Better late than dead, Doctor Smythe. Take your time and do it properly. 'Vouf out. >>
Boris pauses momentarily to give the exoloader a final visual check, then clabbers up into it's belly and straps himself in. A few toggles are flipped and the metal demon's servos and hydrualics whine into life...or at least Boris imagines hearing them whine. ;)
In mere moments, the beast rises to it's operational height; storage clamps are released and the exoloader under the tutelage of Merkle's careful hand swivels, flexes and proceeds toward the starboard side VLAC.
<< Mr Shrike, I am proceeding to the VLAC. >>
<< Roger Mr Merkle, a few control tests and I'll be ready. >> After a check of the proximity detectors to make sure nothing is close enough to bump into, Duey rises slowly to 1 meter off the deck and proceeds to do a 360 degree rotation, 1 at a time, around it's X, Y and then Z axis. << Control checks complete. Ready Mr Merkle. >>
Meanwhile, Bishop is expertly emulating Merkle on the port side of the cargo deck. Sliding smoothly up into the 'loader frame, he pulls the protective cage down into it's lock position and energizes the servos. Slipping his hands into the 3-fingered claw manipulators, he flexes the arms briefly and then quickly moves towards the VLAC on his end.
With that hoop and holler, Smythe ever so gently lifts Huey (aka Discovery-Pod 1) off the deck and slides over to the attach point on VLAC-1.
Whiiine, *CLUNK*, Whiiine, *CLUNK*, Whiiine, *CLUNK*, the 'loaders magnetic footsteps reverberate through the deck plating. Stopping at the end of the VLAC, Bishop's loader reaches, gently for something so massive and ungainly, and slowly lifts. One, two, five, ten, twenty centimeters of clearance appear under the VLAC. At a half meter, the vertical movement slows and stops. Pivoting veeeeeery slowly, fighting the incredible inertia of the 20 ton VLAC, Bishop dexteriously turns and extends the monstrous container towards Smythes waiting work-pod.
Smythe wonders aloud how such a large package can be maneuvered ever so delicately by such an ungainly looking creature. "Damned thang 'ave ever seen", he whispers.
With a 'katchunk, p'ting', Smythe docks Huey to the VLAC pod attach points. While Bishop carefully monitors the EVA, Smythe applies power to the gravitics and gently nudges the mammoth crate from it's quarters.
<< Looking very good on this end, Ostyn. >> Bishop's voice sounds metallic over the commo. << You're clear of the lock. You can pivot any time. >>
As the huge box emerges from Hold #1, the brightly lit interior of the hold
fades to the black inkiness of deep space. Smythe smiles to himself, "It's
good to be home again...
Boris's exoloader, appearing to have found it's stride, ambles to the side
of the VLAC, turns and jitters a little, slowly crouching to deck level as
it shimmies into proper position. Newly installed arms, reminiscent of
those found on standard grav-forklifts, slide smoothly beneath the VLAC.
Without the slightest jolt, the stops on the arms come to within a
centimeter of the VLAC's edge, where special non-magnetic grapnels
quietly secure themselves to matching lock points, part of a series of
locks normally used to secure the VLAC to the hold deck.
Waiting for Shrike to complete his pods mating with it's control point,
Merkle begins his lift.
<< Mr. Shrike, ready to release hold secure points on your mark! >>
Once again, checking the exo's system's status, Merkle begins to ease the
exo from it's crouched position. The exo's joints flex and twist into
weird combinations as it carefully raises the VLAC 1.5 meters from the deck.
<< Okie dokie Mr. Shrike, here comes the fun! >>
The exo through some feat of magic begins to swivel at it's waist, until
the lower 'leg' section is facing toward the hold hatchway. Again, joints
appear to get twisted into impossible juxtaposition, but incredibly,
the VLAC never receives a wobble. Inside his helmet, Merkle wipes the
sweat from his brow on pads mounted inside his helmet...
<< Mr. Shrike, ready to release hold secure points on your mark! >>
<< Standby, moving now >> says Shrike as he slowly manuevers Duey into
position. Grapples out and ready, 'katchunk. << Got her. Release when
ready Mr Merkle. >>
<< Ready for release Mr. Shrike. She's yours in 5..4..3..2..1! You're
away! This channel remains open for the convenience of your tour guide!
Merkle out. >>
Shrike proceeds to slowly move the VLA package out of the Elissa's hold.
"Something's wrong," Silvmane says coolly, feet propped up on a table.
"How can you be so damn SURE of that?" Grey looks at him in annoyance.
"Everything was planned to the minute," Silvmane shrugs. "We pop out, we go under thrust to the tanker, we refuel while the VLA has a look-see for the 'hole'. Well, we're not moving, are we?"
"Something's wrong," Grey says, worry in his eyes.
"Don't go manic on me now, Morgan," haut-Frieder says sternly. "We don't have any evidence. We don't KNOW...."
The door to Engineering Control slides open, and the Captain steps in. "Mister Munro," he says in a smooth, cheerful voice, "Could I talk to you for just a moment?" He ushers her into her office and shuts the door behind him.
"Something's wrong," haut-Frieder sighs, throwing up his hands.
Bhyarrvouf waits until the door closes, and then begins to speak to Munro, softly but with great urgency. "Yolanda," he says, "We're in trouble. The Hamilcar's gone. We've got the fifty-three thousand kiloliters of dregs in our tanks, and that's IT. I need you to get our staff working on possible methods for getting the Elissa back to the nearest star system, 4 parsecs from here, either by a combination of microjumps and STL burn or just by STL means. I'm hoping we don't have to do it, but...." His ears wilt. "We may be looking at several years in cold sleep."
Munro is startled. Her eyes wide she stares down at the floor a moment and then back at 'Vouf. Seeing his downcast ears, she gives him a quick hug and a smile, along with a little shake to get him to focus on her. Rubbing her hands together, she walks around the desk.
The hug is the first time Munro has ever touched 'Vouf in any way other than a handshake or a slap on the shoulder. He stiffens for an instant, then returns the hug quickly, as if stealing an opportunity he may never have again. Munro hears him taking a brief, luxuriant sniff of the scent in her hair, his nose momentarily buried in the tinkling crystals. Then he lets her go with a sigh. The look in his eyes tells her that her show of support had the right effect....
"Bloody 'ell. When the universe deals you a bum hand, slip it a shive, I say." Activating her console, she motions to 'Vouf to take a seat on the corner of the desk and look over her shoulder. "Okay. We have fifty-three thousand kiloliters of fuel left. If we siphon the riders and jettison them, we can still only do one Jump-1. We do have 73.5 days of life support if we don't use the maneuver drives. 148 days if we power down all nonessential equipment and put alot of people in low-berths. Though Hur'Shurvan and Doejin wouldn't fit. And we have 191 days if we turn off the gravitics, which means draining the pool. By siphoning the tanks on the riders, we would actually have a little more time than that - but I wouldn't want to count on it."
"That's about the same order of magnitude as the math I was doing in my head," 'Vouf says grimly. "We actually DO have low berths for Doejin and Shurv-- the Meds saw to it before launch. We can accelerate to 0.2c and be home in 60-odd years, if it comes to that...."
We need to go 4 parsecs you say?" Tap, tap, click. Munro leans back and looks 'Vouf in the eye. "The Aurora has a Jump-4 drive. It could go for help. If at the end of 2 months, it's not back, we could turn off gravitics and wait some more. I don't see any other option unless we can find fuel." Taking his paws in her hands, she leans forward. "The hard question is yours - who stays and who goes, my friend?"
"Hurf?" 'Vouf shakes his head vigorously, and grins. "Stupid old wolf. Getting SENILE. Of COURSE the Aurora can make the trip! Silly of me. The Anslinger can make the Jump out here with enough fuel to get us to Storm in less than six weeks!" He frowns momentarily. "As for who stays and who goes, well, that'll be my decision. BUT!" he stands up, giving her hands a brief squeeze before letting them go, "That gives us a day or two of leeway before we have to make a decision. In the meantime, the best thing to do, I think, would be to try to carry out our mission."
"While we're here, let's run the tests we were supposed to do, and think over our options in the meantime. We need to break the news to everyone without causing a panic...." His mind obviously on the practical approaches to the problems, he gets up from the desk, the efficient officer once more. "I'l see to that. In the meantime, Mister Munro, go over energy-saving techniques with your staff and give some thought toward stretching our endurance a bit."
Halfway to the door, he stops and turns to her. "And Yolanda..." His eyes meet hers for a moment, and he smiles. "Thanks for the hug. I guess I needed it...."
Tapping a few keys on Huey's console, Smythe executes Pod Program Delta-one. There is a whine with increased power output, and Smythe hears the hum of the gravitics. In the corner of the cockpit, a small holo display projects local space, with Elissa at the center, projected trajectory paths of the VLAC deployment. Smythe nods slightly, and thinks, "Looking good..."
Simultaneously on the other side Shrikes moves mimic that of Smythe.
<< Smythe to Shrike. How are things progressing on the other side? Status is green here. Pod Program Delta-two should instruct Duey to the proper coordinates. Just keep an eye on system status readout. Also monitor the link between the VLA's and PATER and the HOLOPTIC in the Science lab. Everything oughta go smooth as a babies ass, just like we 'hears'd it. >>
<< All green here Dr. Smythe, Pod Program Delta-two in progress. >>
<< Smythe to PATER. PATER, pleze monituh VLA status and tr'j'ctuhry dahploymen and not'fy me of any 'nahmlees. I'll monitor from here. >>
_I understand and will comply, Doctor Smythe. All telemetry appears nominal at this time._
<< Smythe to Morser, Smythe to 'Vouf. VLAC deploy proceedin' nomin'lly. Expect prelim data in twelv. Herr Docktor, system's status nomnahl from this end. Do ya concuh? >>
As Huey slows VLAC-1 to a standstill relative to Elissa, Smythe notes with satisfaction that everything is nominal. VLA drone #28 is still giving some spurious signals, but nothing he hasn't seen before and well within tolerances. Smythe's fingers tap out the deploy sequence and immediately an orange rotating warning beacon is set off at the far end of the carrier. Since there are no space suited figures around, Smythe kills the beacon. The navigation lights at the corners of the 20 ton carrier are still lit, though.
Within a few seconds, a VLA drone emerges from the far end of the carrier on the right side. An internal carousel launches the drones one every thirty seconds. As the cylindrical drone emerges, a small comm antenna deploys at the very top and swivels around, locking onto the Elissa. A red navigation light winks on at the bottom. One side of the drone looks like someone squashed a parasol onto it. On the other side, a gravitic plate glows very faintly, and the drone starts accelerating away from Smythe at a constant rate of 1 m/s every second. It will be on station in 65 seconds, about 1 km off the Elissa's porside where it will conduct a systems check and deploy it's dish 10 meters across.
The iris reopens, and Zben Blaine steps onto the Bridge. His hair hasn't seen a brush, and his skin is slightly ashen, but there is a look in his eyes that few people have seen. Not anger, or fear, but sheer stubborn determination. He pauses for a moment, sizes up the situation, and salutes crisply to Akhouw.
"Sir, Zben Blaine reporting!" He sits at the still warm Commo station, a set up his configuration.....
Slamming his fist onto the comm panel, Goughzar opens a line to the Bridge and the Science team.
"Pater! Relay this to anyone else working with the sensors. Goughzar reporting with initial data. My sensor analysis shows an expanding gas cloud which MIGHT be the remains of the fleet. No other solid object remain within the boundaries of my sensors. I checked for a gravitational flux leading either to or from the hole, and quickly found there was nothing. A passive energy scan of the area revealed nothing of the hole in the 4 kelvin universe background. Science Team, can you verify!?"
There is no immediate answer. After a pause, PATER says, _Mister Goughzar, all Science Division members are on station and unavailable for direct communication at this time, but their initial data matches yours._
"kedhaengbhasto..."
"Requesting permission to begin active scans of the area, Goughzar out."
THAT gets a response IMMEDIATELY. << Actife SKANZ?! ACH NEIN! Herr Goughzar, I aprrreziate your ensuziazm, but ve do not vish to clutter ze local arrrea ov zpace mit unecessary chunk chust yet. Rremain on Passif skanz ONLY until vurzer notice! Morzer out. >>
A moment passes, Goughzar's head held in his hands. "Paladin?"
_Yes_
"Since there isn't tsakha out there for fuel, can you check to see the maximum distance the solomani fleet could have stashed it's fuel cache?"
_I don't think tsakha would be an appropriate fuel as the purification process..._
"Shut up and figure it OUT!"
_Processing,_ Kharrbyegh says. After a moment....
_Insufficient data for more than a zero-order estimate of two parsecs radius._
Munro and 'Vouf exit the Engineering Office. 'Vouf heads for the bridge while Munro comes into Engineering, a grim look on her face.
"Told you," Silvmane says mildly.
"Shaddup," Grey muses.
"All right folks, I need your full attention. Silvmane, turn that bloody Walkman off." She looks intently at all assembled. "The news is that our re-fueling station has up and disappeared on us. Before anyone panics, we've got enough fuel to last 6 months while one of the riders goes for a tanker to refuel us. What is needed is energy saving measures. Also, investigate any and all ways of saving even more power."
"Fun wow," Silvmane grimaces, putting away his headphones.
"Shut up," haut-Frieder agrees.
"One option may be to drain and use Doejin's pool for fuel. We need to find out how long Doejin can survive in his skysuit."
"Next we need to check with the medical team and find out what we can drop the ship's gravitics level to and still be close to 100% effective."
"An important need is to tune the power systems to maximize fuel to power ratio. I have some statistics garnered from other ships that may help. I'll open up the files."
"Investigation of what systems can be powered down completely without causing problems should be a high priority."
"These measures don't have to implemented immediately. We aren't in dire straits yet, but I want numbers available when they are needed. If *anybody* has any ideas or suggestions, let's hear them."
"Life support should be given top priority," haut-Frieder says immediately. "If the breathing mix isn't right, people start making mistakes. The air should be kept not just adequate but clean for long after we shut down gravity and start rationing fresh water."
"The oxygen content of the ship's mix can be made a bit thinner without affecting crew performance at all," he continues. "In a pinch, we can work on thin oxygen for a long time."
"Indeed," Hur'Shurvan agrees, sounding slightly short of breath having just rushed down from deck 2. "If necessary, I can easily wear a personal respirator."
"I can't breathe nothin' but FAT oxygen," Grey says nervously.
Silvmane shrugs. "Try."
"The point's academic, as I was ABOUT to say," haut-Frieder continues, glaring at the others, "Because it won't be an issue for several weeks or months, even at normal consumption rates. We can get planning right now, I suppose, but as you pointed out, Mynheer Munro, it'll be a long time before we feel the pinch."
Hur'Shurvan ponders, "I wonder if we could reduce the burden on life support by shutting off areas where it is not really needed, such as unused crew quarters?
"They're not self-sealing," Silvmane muses. "All you'd do is let the air get stagnant and maybe cut down on heating. The only real savings would be turning off the grav plates, and compared to the inertial compensators on the fuel tanks that's almost no savings at all."
"In the meantime," continues Hur'Shurvan, "I will be happy to look into the question of improving fuel efficiency."
Silvmane snaps his fingers. "THERE'S a savings, maybe. We're down to 53 megaliters-- could we pump it to the main-body tankage and turn off the slosh supressors in the outriggers?"
Angus ponders for a moment, then speaks up.
"Hmmm. Yolanda, If things really get tight, we could look at reducing the gravity field in the ship -- a lesser field consumes less power. However, I think that the trade off for power won't be worth it unless things get real tight and we're fighting for scraps. The pool however, does eat a bit of power since it is on its own independent, redundant system. We could rig something smaller for Doejin elsewhere in the meantime. The pool is the only absolutely non-essential."
"Boy, am I going to miss roll school."
"All are good ideas." responds Munro. "Let's pump the fuel into the main-body tankage like Silvmane suggests and look into the pool and empty crew quarters ideas. Hur'Shurvan, go ahead and start fuel efficiency measures on the power..."
Without further ado, the engineering team rapidly disperses to their various tasks.
The door to the Armory opens, and 'Vouf glances inside. He sees the frantic activity of the Squad suiting up, and whatever he was about to say dies on his muzzle. He just gives a nod and a proud smile to everyone in the room, softly says, "Carry on," and leaves again.
Lazer salutes the closing door crisply.
'Vouf comes back onto the Bridge, waits for Akhouw to vacate the Command chair, and sits back down. His hackles are partly ruffled, and he has an expression on his face very similar to the one he was wearing the very first time he appeared on the Trakh's viewscreen so many weeks ago in this part of space... sharply leashed anger and cold resolve. His tail is stiff and bristled.
As 'Vouf steps onto the the Bridge, a quick sniff of the sudden change in the atmosphere tells Akhouw of his Captain's black mood. With smooth grace, Akhouw rises from the command chair and remains standing by it, at attention, as 'Vouf resumes his post. His face is grimly set, his stance imposing, his arms carefully folded in front of his chest. One hand clenches to form a fist, powerful muscles flex, and then the fist relaxes.
Zben Blaine keeps his head down eyes fixed on the panel in front of him. Only partially is this to stay out of the tension. He's also Very Busy re-routing and directing communication channels to handle all the additional data needs. Under his hands connections appear, swell to match need, and then are reallocated.
Without speaking to anyone, the Captain calls up a small holo of the VLA deployment, and watches it unfold, occasionally inserting terse, acid commentary to Smythe's commo traffic.
As the first pod jets away, Smythe taps Huey's console and detaches the carrier. The carriers internal computer and IMU correct for the faint bump and command the station keeping gravitics to maintain station.
Smythe whirls away from VLAC-1 and heads back to the Elissa, 200 meters away, at full power. If anyone was watching, they'd notice a space work pod doing a crazy spiral corkscrew through space. If they didn't know any better, they'd think the pilot was insane. In fact, quite the opposite, Dr. Ostyn Smythe has never known such peaceful bliss. He was home again.
A cold voice on the commlink splashes a small dose of cold water on Smythe's elation. << Elissa to Pod One! Get your Bhastoum relative acceleration back DOWN to safe operating limits, NOW! I MEAN it, Smythe-- fly safe or I'll haul you out of that Pod by your pink, stumpy tailbone and sprinkle your little seed-pods MYSELF. 'Vouf OUT. >> The voice sounds tense and worried, Smythe notes. Much more so than a routine operation like this should warrant....
Smythe arrives at the hold to see that Bishop is holding 20 tons of VLAC-3 *OUTSIDE* the cargo hold while he stands just at the edge of the bay.
<< Here's your next pick-up, Ostyn. >> signals Bishop. << Call the ball. >>
<< Whoa there Mr. Bishup, that thar's suhm pretty fahncy loadin! >>
<< We aim to please. >>
Smythe quickly attaches Huey to the carrier, taps a few instructions
into the console, and hits
While he's pushing VLAC-3 to its drop point, Smythe notes the holodisplay
showing the VLAC-1 and -2 deployments proceeding normally. Already
4 drones were in place and unfurling their deep space antennae.
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