Erin had been the last of her group to finish studying the far-off cargo hold before the end of training hours. As she emerged into the corridor, a friendly sentry informed her that her friends had gone back to their quarters and motioned his thumb off to the right passage.
The hallways here had not been activated for quick motion; no one had as yet discovered where the mechanism switch had been hidden. The walk back was more than a mile, down dark tunnels lit only by occasional floor lamps and the bright helmets of the sentries.
Erin wished she had not taken so long. She hated to be left alone, for it was during quiet moments that her irrational fears surfaced. She had begun to detest the solitude aboard the vessel, away from the warm, comforting light of the Earth outside, and she longed for the happier days at the UESRC, so close by.
As she drew closer to the inhabited areas near the Command Center, her feet ground to a halt, and on her left side she became aware of a small screen, overlaid with lit panels and buttons, not unlike hundreds of others distributed down the many passages she had traveled.
For weeks she had been thinking about the inside of the Charon ship, comparing it to the interior of Discovery, and with the recollection came all of the strange perceptions of the alien inquisitor which she had sensed during the interrogation of Jason Donnelley. Now, she sensed another, similar presence, here in the Discovery itself.
Then, as she stood by the panel, she felt as though the presence in her mind greedily encouraged her to remember the other, to put a face to the being she had sensed that day back near Pluto. As she regarded the wallscreen, the thought occurred to her that the screen was a kind of terminal linking the ship; the force behind it barely understood the strange Earth words in her head, but her feelings required no translation.
She shook off the idea that she herself was the force powering the mindlink which it had longed for, that only once invited could it scan her thoughts. The force seized upon her memories of the Charon ship, and she began to panic. Instinctively, she tore herself away from the terminal and ran down the hall, unaware that Dr. Knightwood had been watching her from the shadows of the Command Center passage.
* * * * *
Major Dimitriev realized he was not going to win the argument, but he refused to leave it alone.
“Are you sure you’ve cleared it with Knightwood, Zhdanov, someone?” he asked again stubbornly.
“I already told you I’ve got orders to clear this area out. We need the extra living space for the new squadrons.” The sentry, lieutenant Andrew MacLean, vacillated, seeing the Major’s point. He had felt the same way at first, but he had to obey orders. He couldn’t afford the luxury of reservations like this superior officer. “I know it’s a terrible thing to have to do, but the soil and materials have already been tested, and they’ll be moved to the cargo bay with all of the other stuff scheduled for compact storage.”
Scott had been in the Command Center when Knightwood and Kansier were discussing where to find extra living space, and they had chosen a few of the empty or near-empty holds surrounding the crew quarters, to keep the squadrons together. However, even with the relocation of part of the crew, the rooms reserved for squadron members remained overcrowded. Dimitriev had suggested using the rooms reserved for the technician crews that had not arrived yet, but it was true that once the maintenance personnel were brought on board, the squadrons would just have to move again. And giving up his own quarters could not save the hold.
Still Scott hated to see the restructuring crews demolish what appeared to have been a kind of playground for the alien children. Some of the soil had already been removed to be analyzed, but the rest had been untouched for who knew how long. What right did they have to do this? he wondered, watching the destruction, moved by the sight even though he knew it had nothing to do with him.
* * * * *
Five weeks before the scheduled test flight, the main engine power almost miraculously ignited during one of the technician’s firing attempts. Zhdanov, Knightwood, and Cheung had been biting their nails over the engine problems for weeks. It would have been an embarrassment if after all this effort, they had to dismiss the Discovery crews and abandon the plan.
Then, while the scientists slept, their problem had solved itself. Zhdanov had bumped his head running into a wall as he fumbled in the dark looking for his labcoat. Without mercy the alarm continued to blare in his ears; finally, he reached his communicator and patched in to the sentries, who directed him to lieutenant DiGiacomo just outside the main engine room.
Minutes later, the entire scientific team had gathered around the Discovery’s activated engines, staring mutely up at the scintillating metal sphere visible above the large tunnel upon which they stood. The tunnel spanned the length of the ship, where the engines’ power escaped the ship, driving it forward. They stood in a small, atmosphere controlled chamber enclosed by clear walls made of a completely synthetic material not unlike dense plastic in its chemical structure but extremely shock-resistant and completely shatterproof.
Another layer of a thicker, clear substance lay on the other side, its chemical composition not precisely determined, though scans reported crystalloid structure. Only the small room separated the assembled company from the vacuum of space surrounding the engines; only a small room next to the engines gained them access to such a view.
“Looks like there are several different engine systems adjacent to each other,” one of the engineers, Collin Gellar, explained. “We think they may somehow feed on each other’s energies–at least some of them seem to. That might be why we couldn’t get the main engines started–perhaps they had to wait for other energies to ignite, and the test firings we made before could have relied upon energy reserves. Then again, maybe the ship was grounded so long that the engines just needed time to warm up. ‘Don’t really know the answer. Anyway, what we’re seeing over there, that long tube, not the sphere–we’ve confirmed that thing is a tachyon engine–yes you heard correctly. We’ve been measuring output for weeks. Can’t believe it myself,” the engineer added, shaking his head.
“That over there,” he pointed to a great, squat cylinder linked to the tachyon engine, “is a fusion generator–we’re sure of that. Now ask me what that metallic sphere is up there–I have no idea. It seems integral to the tachyon engine, and there is a platform up there inside the clear contained area, so I imagine there is a way to get to it from somewhere else inside this ship, but of course...” The engineer, Gellar’s voice trailed off. He did not need to explain. Everyone understood that the corridor to the room up above was buried in one of the sealed sections.
* * * * *
The scientists were dubious about the sudden and undeserved success in the engine room but were not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Knightwood hoped that the ship was merely programmed to respond to the presence of inhabitants and that its previous dormancy had been the result of abandonment.
As the deadline of take-off approached, Kansier and Zhdanov made the primary team selections. Each member of the crew had been re-trained to operate the alien controls of Discovery in the field to which they were already accustomed on Earth ships, and so former navigators were considered first as candidates for navigators and pilots.
The technicians claimed that the entire ship could have been controlled using only the primary stations on the bridge, but the understanding of the ship’s functions required for the primary position would then be greater than the Earth teams could possibly learn in such a short time.
They had already taken too much time ensuring that every member of the crew had been familiarized with each position on the ship. There had been an uneven number of trained technicians for each position owing to the worldwide selections, so those who had excelled at one post more than another were reassigned that position as their primary station. With the additions from space, the full crew list numbered over three thousand, yet the primary and secondary crews were each limited to one hundred and twenty-five
for all of the seats on the bridge.
A week before take-off, Erin, Ho-ling, Nathalie, and their roommates were talking in Erin and Ho-ling’s room when a sentry arrived with a large package for lieutenant Mathieson-Blair. A read-out had been affixed to the top of the box, welcoming Erin as the third seat navigator of the primary bridge crew. The others urged her to open the box, and Erin pulled out a shiny silvery-blue uniform with dark boots wrapped underneath.
“Not that that thing isn’t absolutely brilliant,” Jianming said enviously, shaking her head. “But why did they send you another uniform? It’s almost exactly like the one we’ve already got.”
Yet, unlike the other similar uniforms, the silvery-blue garment Erin held had been embellished with tiny triangular and elliptical panels about the shoulders and down the sides that reflected the light in luminescent blues and greens, creating a wave-like illusion of motion as she turned it in the light.
Jianming found herself looking forward to seeing people wear them. They’d probably create an interesting optical effect if seen from a distance.
“This looks exactly like that one we found near the entrance to the ship,” Nathalie spread the uniform out on a lounge sofa and rubbed the material between her thumb and forefinger. Alien script still appeared on the chestplate, to which a small badge had been added that read “First Lieutenant Erin Mathieson-Blair, third navigator”.
“You know what?!” Ho-ling exclaimed. “I’ll bet this really is one of the alien uniforms and not a replica.” She shivered, dropping the edge of the garment as if it could contaminate her. “I don’t think they should be using the alien suits,” she said. “Wonder why they think it’s necessary?” she wondered. “Our replicas should be good enough.”
“No answer here,” said Erin. “I guess they thought they had to do something with them, anyway, might as well use them.”
“Hmmm, I wouldn’t.”
* * * * *
The next morning, when Erin reported for duty on the bridge of the Command Center, conversations on the subject of the new uniforms were already in progress. Someone to her left was explaining how the orders had arrived from Secretary Hilbert that the original alien uniforms be distributed among the scientists permanently assigned on board the Discovery and then to the primary and secondary bridge crews to distinguish them from the rest of the crew.
Erin headed towards the navigator section where two of ten were already seated. Then she felt her gut clench as she recognized the features of Major Scott Dimitriev behind the fifth position.
“Hello,” she offered. Scott turned around and gave her a smile. Before he could ask any questions, she continued, “I didn’t know you were being trained as a part of the crew. I thought you’d be flying back there in the command section with Kansier as his Co-Captain.”
“Well, no.” He said, though the demotion seemed rather to please him than to cause any resentment in him. “They haven’t designated any Co-Captain to my knowledge.” He admitted, seeming anything but disappointed. “But I’m not the only officer to have given up his command for the opportunity of joining the Discovery crew. If you look around, you’ll see Captain Hanson of the Palatino somewhere around here. And there are others who didn’t want to be demoted to regular crew positions. They’ve been assigned posts as strategy specialists and tactics consultants. They’ll be the ones that look like us, but they don’t have to be on the bridge. By the way, when did they tell you that Kansier had been selected as the Discovery Captain?” He asked, wondering at how composed she was under the strange set of circumstances.
“I’m not sure.” Erin paused. “I guess I just naturally assumed he would be, and so it didn’t surprise me when I heard the news.”
“Actually, there was a lot of contention around who would be the ship’s Captain.” Scott laughed. “A lot of other officers wanted the job, but it was eventually agreed that Kansier had the most experience.” As he was talking, the fourth bridge navigator appeared and waited for him to finish, then introduced herself as lieutenant Lee.
“Well,” Erin said by way of terminating the conversation. “It’s nice to see a familiar face around here.” As she turned back to her duty station, she pretended to make some minor adjustments, but her mind was on other things.
She was glad Scott had gotten what he wanted and returned to his old position as a navigator, even though it would make it harder for her to be around him so much. She listened as he struck up a similar conversation with the fourth navigator, as the happy chattering around her continued.
As unhappy as it made her to be near him, she had to admit she felt proud of Scott. She could not help but admire him, for his integrity and for so many other things. She admitted she had been wrong about his character in the past, but during the time she had been around him in the last few months, she had seen that he held no stock in empty promises. To Scott, talk was only worthwhile as long as guided action soon followed. He was not Machiavellian, but he did believe in achieving “the ends”. She saw that a promise, whether his own or another’s, meant little to him unless it was kept. Scott Dimitriev did not pave the road to hell with good intentions.
She had on occasion chanced to hear him acknowledge his own vices and motivations–whether he had confessed in jest or earnest, she did not know. Despite these confessions, she didn’t believe him to be malevolent, and although he gave few guaranteed assurances, his unmeditated actions were frequently of a self-sacrificing, noble nature.
“Erin, you’ve checked your console ten times already.” Scott’s voice interrupted her.
“Have I? Well you never can be too sure,” she responded, refocusing her concentration.
Good Lord! she thought. We’re going to fly an alien spaceship! With a glance about the room, she saw that the others were just as apprehensive as she was, and underneath their outward composure–just as exhilarated by the thought as she was.
* * * * *
Erin had expected to see Erik Ross and some of the others from the Stargazer crews as bridge navigators, but he and lieutenant Garrick turned up at the change of shifts in the secondary bridge crew. Two of the Blue Stripes she discovered had been in her group far away on her right; the newest member, Kusao, had become an analytical navigation coordinator, and Hans Rheinhardt from the former Blue Stripes Sky Hawks had remained a radar operator.
The rest of the crew had been given time off to further their explorations on board while the bridge crews practiced drills in preparation; Erin returned home late in the evening or early in the morning whenever her shift ended. Quite often the apartment was empty, but a few times she managed to catch the others before they left on a tour and was able to join them for a little while before heading back to catch some sleep.
News arrived during that week that the Charon aliens had launched a small cruiser from Pluto/ Charon air space. The UESF council met as soon as the message from Neptune was received; whether or not the cruiser was a sign that the aliens knew of Discovery or was merely a delayed retaliation in response to Arnaud’s infiltration unit, in no time, the systems-testing take-off date of the new Discovery was moved up by several weeks.
Despite the looming threat of the Charon aliens’ cruiser, the morning of take-off dawned peacefully, with clear, rose-colored skies outside the ship, but the primary crew already waited at their stations. Some had not been able to sleep for days, others were only now succumbing to anxiety. Kansier sat at the rear of the Command Center where he had been the past four hours. Knightwood and Zhdanov had come in and out, but Cheung had remained seated nearby and the two continued discussing old times until 0600.
Then at last Kansier gave the order to raise the viewport shield, and all eyes watched the first action executed by the new crew on baited breath. As the exterior metal plate rose in an arc above the viewport window, rosy beams brightened the pale air within, and the crescent halo of the sun appeared in the distance barely above the bow of the ship.
“Pilots, take her up,” Kansier quietl
y ordered, and the team complied, carefully implementing their synchronized consoles.
Underneath them the engines started cycling power, sending faint vibrations throughout the ship. The anti-gravity thrusters flared, and the Discovery began to rise, the sun sinking beneath the forward view, replaced by a magenta sky and thready clouds.
Minutes passed; the ship rose higher and the surrounding space darkened into midnight, stark, unwavering white lights all around.
“All right Dimitriev, Mathieson-Blair, Garen, and Bekker–put us in orbit.” Kansier’s clear voice resounded on the bridge.
Erin and the other navigators responsible for course adjustments set the flight path as in the last drill session. The crew watched in satisfaction as the Discovery sped smoothly around the planet below, completing one revolution in only two and a half minutes. With the simple test run completed, they could now return to the Earth.
“All right now, take us down,” Kansier ordered calmly, pleased that everything had gone so well.
“Yes, sir. We’ll reach our window in seventy-two seconds.” Jens Bekker said. The pilots began at once to prepare for landing. The seconds ticked by, and finally lieutenant Bekker began the ten second countdown. At zero, each of the navigators endeavored to pull the Discovery back down on a vector that would bring them back to sector eight; however it took them only a moment to realize that the ship wasn’t responding!”What’s going on?” Kansier demanded.
“We’ve lost control, sir.” Lieutenant Navarre updated, a note of panic in his voice. “We’ll try again to bring her in.” A brief pause ensued, punctuated by the clicking of buttons on the navigational instrument panel. No one on the bridge stirred. “It’s no use, sir.” He went on, struck by shock. “The ship’s not responding to any attempts to pull it into the Earth’s atmosphere.”
“Can you switch off the engines?” Kansier tried to keep things calm.
“No, sir. I’m trying, but the engines are deadlocked.” Navarre said, but he spoke for all of the navigators. None of them were having any luck at all making the ship respond. “Should we contact the engine room and ask them to try cut off power from the source?”