"The primary scans matched the layout of an advance base or concealed research facility. Historical analysis of Imperial activity in this area posits three points of presence. The Coral Nebula Depot was one. The other two, while likely, were never found. League and Halcyon historians attribute this to their being stripped or destroyed during the Collapse or Interim."
Blakeschiff powered down the holovee.
"Our mission is to conduct a prepositioning investigation of this site." He paused for emphasis. "We are not the primary investigation team. Our mission is basic survey, site survey and verification and initial expedition site construction. I have specific spools prepared. Read them and I will answer any questions you have.
"Lieutenants Harper and Keyson, please return to your stations."
Silence! Silence until Blakeschiff left then pandemonium! Excitement washed through everyone then reverberated twofold. This was unprecedented! Imperium sites were as rare as... Imperium sites! They were...
Morris caught that thought and held it firmly. Imperium site investigation typically involved hundreds of specialists and years of work but only after the initial surveys deemed it safe. The First Look team mapped the location of the site, chose the location for the base camp and verified that neither posed any measurable threat to the safety of those to follow. They would determine the necessary supplies, logistical requirements, protective measures and the thousand other details the dedicated scientists might forget.
"This is incredible," said Lace, eyes glowing, "I wonder if we'll be on the follow-up team."
"Play the game right," said Jackson, "and you will."
Morris noticed that Rackwell, while no less excited, radiated smugness. Polov sat quietly with an unreadable expression on his face.
"Mister Polov," said Morris, "You look as though you have something to say."
"This..." Polov took a moment to gain his composure. "This is what I want to do, sir. With my life, I mean. It's what I've been studying and learning."
Rackwell clapped him on the shoulder.
"Just think of the experience, Greg. Think of the prestige you'll gain. Learn well and you will be indispensable on subsequent expeditions. Careers have been made from less!"
After the initial excitement calmed most of them began devouring Blakeschiff's spools. Even though the man's communication skills had not improved Morris had no difficulty at all keeping himself focused.
***
Dinner conversation revolved around the site. Every monitor within the room contained some aspect of preliminary data. The main screen showed the location of the site and the area surrounding it. All of them agreed that it was not a well-developed travel hub, a strongpoint, otherwise there would be some record of it. With its location it should have been a commercial hub which meant it was built late into the Imperium, possibly even during the Collapse or that it was a secret scientific research station. That particular debate lasted past dessert.
Curiosity aroused, Morris powered up a terminal and began running queries. Along with the spools Blakeschiff also released the database the ship had carried sealed: it contained as much data on the Imperium as Blakeschiff could cram into the cores. Morris found what he wanted easily.
Since early in its existence the Imperium established a very efficient pattern of stellar conquest. Working from an established strongpoint probe ships jumped out to the limit of their hyperdrives. From there the probe ship, usually a large carrier, dispatched scouts to scour the nearby systems for the most inhabitable and comfortable worlds they could find. Upon selection of the best candidate the carrier then jumped to that system and began analyzing its star. Meanwhile other vessels landed on the selected planet and established a beachhead. Once the carrier completed the star's navigational profile it jumped back and a construction fleet followed. Within months the Imperium had a new strongpoint and hub for the other systems surrounding it. Should an emergency arise the network of strongpoints became chokepoints to contain the catastrophe. The system worked quite well and several established governments outside the League still used it, or at least tried.
By the time Morris finished he and Delroy had the room to themselves. She had a Racefort diagram on her display again. When she felt Morris' eyes she cleared the display and looked up at him. Just as well; from what Morris saw any process or machine matching that particular diagram simply would not, could not, function. Such flawed tolerance peaks must certainly indicate an erroneous base state coupled with multiple incorrect metrics and correlation matrices.
"Good night, Specialist."
She turned her attention back to her display and dismissed him silently.
***
The next morning everyone scrapped the study schedules they had so carefully crafted the day before. Morris formed in the group with Polov, Rackwell and Jackson to plan how best to conduct the survey and plan the expedition base. Blakeschiff had a good topographic map of the areas surrounding the suspected site with water sources and potential obstacles marked. They also had the ship's holds full of exploration gear courtesy, Morris assumed, of Blakeschiff.
Of all the people aboard the ship Polov was well and truly in his native element. While he enjoyed the conjecture and speculation he focused like a laser cannon on site selection for the base camp and its preparation. For all the experience he claimed to lack Polov did an outstanding job with structuring the base and calculating resource needs, all with an eye toward the follow-up missions. While Rackwell had the most experience on archaeological expeditions Polov's parents made their career by outfitting them, and Polov often considered details Rackwell missed. On the rare occasion when Polov miscalculated he took careful notes on what happened and worked equally meticulously to not let it happen again.
***
A few days later Morris finally made it to engineering alone. Lydia greeted him with a quick, warm kiss.
"Because I missed you, silly," she said.
"I'm, umm..."
"You've been busy preparing for our wonderful mission," she smiled, "You're probably going to be the hardest worker there; I hope you realize that. I certainly don't envy you." She winked. "But if you're here for a while I think I can find something else to occupy your time."
"Permalube and a safety harness?"
"Beast," she laughed, "Help me calibrate the engines."
Morris laughed as he complied. Thruster calibration, especially while in link, required a lot more time than actual effort and they spent much of that waiting. They grabbed a quick bite of lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon in non-labor-intensive work. Afterward they had dinner in her office where, warm and content and with his arms full of Lydia, Morris fell asleep.
"Oh the perfidy of men," she said softly. Then, when he woke she repeated it a bit louder.
Morris started to stammer something even he didn't understand but she shushed him quickly, effectively and very pleasantly.
"Apology accepted," she said, "I think someone needs to go to bed." Then, "Alone, you lecherous beast. Walk me to your room and you can blush in privacy."
Morris complied and enjoyed the forever-long and happy good-night she gave him.
One hot shower later Morris noticed his terminal flashing a query. When he released it it popped open a message box.
'Good evening Technician.'
'Good evening, Specialist,' replied Morris.
'What makes you think it's Delroy?'
'No one else is up, Specialist.'
'Have you been studying your information theory?'
'As I've had time. Not much of that to spare lately.'
'What do you think of the mission now?'
'It's exciting. I'm excited. We'll be the First Look team, the first one in since the Collapse. We'll be working with Imperium technology in its pristine state. Who wouldn't be excited?'
A graphic box containing a simplified Racefort diagram opened on Morris' screen.
'What do you think of this?'
He studied the th
ing. For a machine it absolutely would not work but it might for a computer program.
'That's not from any functional machine.'
'Why so?'
Morris highlighted three of the worst peaks. 'These.'
'What about them?'
'In mechanical analysis we call these tolerance peaks. That's a summative measure of likelihood of failure over two or more measurable quantities which may be independent or interrel...'
'I know that,' she interrupted.
'Well, depending on your scaling those peaks represent tolerance seven to tolerance nine. Nothing can function for long under that kind of stress.'
'So you're saying this isn't viable.'
'Not in a machine. Why? What are your criteria and what kind of metric are you using?'
No answer.
'Specialist?'
The graphic and message boxes disappeared and the external connection terminated. Morris considered walking to the lounge and asking in person but decided against it. He privacy-locked his machine and went to bed.
***
Morris noticed something the next morning. Whenever Blakeschiff and Rackwell occupied the same room tension built between them. The others seemed oblivious and Morris saw no reason to enlighten them. He made a mental note not to work with both of them together.
Midafternoon Morris' group finished their plans. They had five optimals for where the base camp should go, once they analyzed and set the parameters it took the computer all of five minutes to generate them. Now it came down to picking one. With a glance to the others Polov chose one.
"Why that one, Greg," asked Rackwell.
"I like it, sir," said Polov, "There's ample room for a landing pad, good terrain to land the ship and the mountains and hills should prevent any really bad linear weather. The base-to-water and base-to-dig distances are good, too."
"Not my first choice but certainly my second," said Rackwell, "Good job, Greg."
"I agree," said Jackson.
"Make it unanimous," said Morris, "I'll also second that 'Good job.'"
With nothing to do planning-wise Morris wandered down to engineering.
"Hi," said Lydia, "Are you done or just skipping work?"
"Finished for now. We can't really start something new until the others finish so I have some time. Besides, that's all mental work. I want to do something. With my hands." He lifted his eyebrows suggestively.
"Heaven's flames, I've created a monster," she said, "Very well, sir, in the interest of protecting an innocent populace I suppose I can find you something to do. With your hands."
She had just started servicing the backup power systems when Morris arrived. With him helping the work went a lot faster. She checked the readout automatically and started to log it then stopped.
"That's odd," she said.
Morris examined the readout.
"There's a variance in the redundant coupling," she said, "Feces! Were you in there?"
"Not since the last time we checked it."
"Before we landed on Helene. Feces squared! Having seen it I have to log it."
"Blakeschiff?"
"Maybe he's not on duty. Mallory will just log it." She sighed and reached for the 'comm. "Bridge, engineering."
"Blakeschiff."
Lydia made an incredibly sour face.
"Keyson. I need to log a minor variance in the secondary redundant power system coupling."
There was a pause before Blakeschiff responded. "I've taken station at the engineering terminal. Can you fix it?"
"Aye sir. Technician Taylor is working with me."
"Very well, chief engineer. You may begin investigation and repair. I will log the incident and maintain station here."
"Aye sir. Engineering out." She cut the 'comm. "Damn that man! You better be ready to give me one double-plus-good back massage, m'dear. He won't be happy until that variance is zero."
"Aye sir," grinned Morris, "Do you want me on the board or in the tube?"
"Board. You're faster on it than I am and if anyone but me touches that coupling the Commander won't be happy."
Morris strapped down at the board and pulled up the necessary systems. Lydia donned a safety suit, removed an access panel and wriggled inside, which Morris enjoyed watching.
"'Comm check," said Lydia, "Testing."
"'Comm check nominal."
Lydia wriggled completely out of sight.
"Secondary main looks fine. Isolate nodes... Isolate nodes seventeen-alpha through twenty-echo."
"Isolating," said Morris, "Grounding now. Give it a few seconds."
"No blather. Hey. This is really strange. The panel seems to have..."
A sudden actinic flash blinded Morris. Klaxons screamed as the lights died. The control board went chaotic as it reported no less than a dozen emergency events. Blinking his eyes into focus Morris started working the console even before his vision cleared.
Drive fluctuation, bioreactor media, bioreactor seal compromise, hull breach, capacitor fluctuation: Morris worked with inhuman speed to stabilize the power systems and keep the ship together. Components sparked and shorted throughout the chamber, filling it with acrid smoke. When the hull breach alarm reached critical he stopped long enough to shed his toolbelt, slip into an EVAC and back into his belt. Now sealed and pressure-stable Morris pulled power from all nonessential systems and cut the fusion chamber to fifty percent. The starchamber itself now showed a minor instability; he started the hot regen and repair cycle and isolated the L-drive and hull grid from the rest of the systems.
Fortunately the link systems escaped the event and still showed optimal. Acting as an immense fuse the thruster array shorted and protected the thalyssium grid and coils. He switched it into isolation-protected mode and took it completely off all power networks. The lights dimmed and darkened as Morris pulled power from lighting. The emergency reds activated and Morris trimmed the fusion chamber further.
Not wasting time to swear Morris switched life support to battery power and isolated it. Engineering and the other pressure-segments hard-sealed; Morris hoped the others were in vacc suits or EVACs by now. And strapped down.
He pulled power from the internal gravity pads. His body lightened and floated up against the straps as the last major power drain vanished. Morris isolated them as well and trimmed the chamber to the bare minimum required to keep it active.
"Bridge to engineering. Report now!" The voice belonged to Harper and Morris realized he'd been ignoring it.
"Taylor. Major incident report. Initial read is a massive power surge along the primary main power network. Link drive, life support and fusion plant are active and functional. Power pulled from all nonessential systems. The fusion chamber appears stable." Morris' suit still hung loose but that meant little. "Negative report on the hull breach."
"Status confirmed. Are we stable?"
"Aye ma'am." As he spoke an icy realization washed through Morris.
Since the initial event Lydia had not spoken a word.
"Engineer Keyson?"
The words froze Morris' throat. "Unknown, ma'am."
"Medical team en route. Do what you can, Morris."
Morris did. League fusion plants were built to self-stabilize. The smartsystem controlling this one knew it had sustained severe damage and it worked to attain a stable equilibrium. With no confirmation of hull breach Morris started running pressure checks. The individual scans reported full pressure with no variation. He started isolating segments of the power and control networks he isolated earlier. Anything strong enough to surge now would vaporize the ship. Not a comforting thought.
Morris jumped when the main bulkhead popped open. Kody, Jackson and Harkin floated in.
"Where is she," asked Jackson.
Morris pointed. Jackson looked and, amazingly, wormed his way through the access panel, vacc suit and all. Kody floated to Morris' station.
"I can manage this, Tech. Go to sickbay."
Exactly what Morris wanted to
do. A frozen hand on his spine held him in place.
"Negative, Mister Kody. I'm needed here."
Kody shook his head. "Sir, if we're not dead now we'll stay that way. Go."
"No, Midshipman, I..."
The words choked Morris as Jackson gently pulled Lydia's unresisting body out of the access. He saw little past the charred remains of her safe-suit. Kody gripped his shoulder.
"Morris. Go."
"N-no. I can't leave."
Jackson administered a pair of hypos. He strapped her to a stretcher and he and Harkin flew toward sickbay.
"Engineering, bridge." The voice belonged to Harper, "Report to sickbay, Technician. That is an order."
Morris didn't feel Kody unstrapping him. He only felt a cold, hard emptiness. Woodenly he half-swam to sickbay. Lace sat outside the operating theatre, loosely strapped into a chair. She looked uncomfortable but when she spied him...
"Steady, Morris."
He felt a gentle hand squeeze his. When he looked up he saw Lace's eyes, soft and full of sympathy.
"She'll be fine, no blather," said Lace, "Jared's a ruddy good medic."
Morris knew better. Whatever happened breached an insulated safety-suit designed to resist it. As to what lay inside...
The exam table drew Morris' attention. Something - someone - lay there with a sheet strapped over him. Or her. A colder shock shook Morris.
"Blakeschiff," said Lace softly, "Whatever hit Ly... engineering got the bridge too. Jared had to pop him into stasis. He'll live, Morris. He'll live and so will Lydia."
***
The cold void within Morris spread into a cold numbness. He heard Lace talking to someone but the words simply didn't register. He saw Jackson working through the large window into the operating room. Wafted by an errant motion Lydia's suit drifted behind Jackson and past the window. Both arms, most of the torso and part of the attachment collar were charred. In places it had even vaporized. Setting aside the hellish amperage that arced through her Lydia had probably inhaled the vaporized insulation and suit material. That told Morris the story. With that much damage no stasis drug would work.
After an eternity Jackson emerged from the room. When he caught Morris' eye he shook his head.
"She's alive now, Morris, but she won't last long."