From: elf@halcyon.com (Elf Sternberg)
Newsgroups: alt.sex,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.furry
Subject: Journal Entry 031 / 1028 [ The Ritacha War: Breakthrough ]
Date: 11 Jul 1996 13:45:09 GMT
Organization: Pendor, UnLtd.
Lines: 435
Message-ID: <4s30h5$cbt@news1.halcyon.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: coho.halcyon.com
Elenya, Nenim 6, 1028
He was awake instantly at the sound of the buzzer, his hands
fumbling for the button on the console by his bed. "Cafran."
"Captain, we are approaching TD-102, and I think you should come
to the bridge."
"Problem, Number One?"
"It's... interesting sir. It's easier if you come up to the
bridge and see for yourself."
"Be there in a minute." Captain Tori Cafran rolled out of bed
and stood up, slowly stretching every muscle in his body in a careful
and disciplined fashion. The warm body still lying in bed shuffled
slowly to its right, taking up his pillow as well as its own. He
pulled the covers back a little and kissed Fez on her cheek. She was
a good engineer as well as a good listener and lovemate, and he
valued her presence on his ship. It didn't hurt that he found her
slim, Ebony Vulpin form unbelievably appealing. She didn't stir, but
he felt a smile spread across his muzzle anyway.
He used to think that being able to wake up instantly was a
necessity for starship captains. In his years as a starship officer
he had yet to be in a situation where being able to wake up instantly
would have saved lives or effort. As he pulled the grey and dun
yellow uniform over his bulky form, shoving his tail through the hole
in the back and closing the zipper up the front to his throat, he
wished for the ability to just lie in bed and drift; Fez had once
mentioned how much she enjoyed those moments just before total sleep,
when she was drifting and her mind half-dreaming. He envied her that
time; he had always been the sort to just pass out and wake up. He
rarely remembered his dreams, too.
He glanced both ways as he stepped out into the hallway; he had
more than once been run over by an impatient ensign. Down one strip,
turn right, SDisk. "Bridge."
"Captain on the Bridge," Rhonda announced patiently. He smiled
tolerantly at her anachronism. Until taking command of the Ille
Pendoro he had been used to announcing his own presence, or waiting
until someone acknowledged him. His current ship didn't give him
that opportunity unless he asked for it.
His first action was to locate T'Parrahn, his second officer. He
found the melFelinzi hunched over one of the large display stations.
"Find something exciting, number one?"
"I think so, sir." He smiled in a peculiar fashion, and Cafran's
curiosity was peaked. He had rarely seen T'Parrahn excited about
anything. "What have we got?"
"Evidence of intelligent life, sir."
Cafran's whiskers rose with surprise. "You're sure?" While
Cafran was no particular expert on intelligent civilizations, he knew
the basics. There were a total of five known planets in which
sentient life had arisen and which still held sentient life. At
least, it was assumed as such; few people had located the homeworld
of the Sinox, and the secretive Shriaa had never allowed anyone to
land on any of the three worlds they held.
"Sort of." T'Parrahn, whom Cafran usually thought of as just
"Parr," let his whiskers droop. "While the forward probes are
reporting large architectural structures and some orbital facilities
as well, the background radiation would fry you or me in a matter of
days and the average temperature along the planet's surface is
something near four degrees."
Cafran's eyes closed slightly. "Nuclear war?"
"Yes, sir. Probably a long time ago. This looks like nuclear
winter extended into a drawn-out ice age."
"No radio, no thermal siting... any signs of life?"
Parr shook his head. "No."
Cafran turned to front of the ship. There was no rational reason
for why the bridge was oriented along the ship's axis of travel;
nobody ever really "felt" the ship moving, and all of the imagery
coming over their screens was transmitted from cameras and sensors.
But it "felt right" to be facing the way the ship was moving.
"Navigation, how long until we reach the fifth planet?"
"Two hours, ten minutes at current velocity, sir."
"Pilot, we're going to make an orbital insertion for a long-
duration investigation. Understood?"
"Yes, sir. Expeditionary orbital plan logged in."
"Sir," Parr said, interrupting Cafran's thoughts, "Perhaps you
should log this and call for a staff meeting."
"What time is it?" Cafran asked.
"Twenty-six thirty-seven."
"Staff meeting at twenty-eight hundred, Parr. You, me, Baker,
Fezzik, Miroh, Heely, Glass, Masters."
"Yes, sir. They're not going to appreciate being awakened three
hours early."
"That's why you're the first officer, Parr."
"Yes, sir."
- - -
Cafran was pleased, or more appropriately amazed, to see that
everyone whose presence he had requested had arrived on time. Fezzik
and Mandy Glass had an annoying tendency of arriving late to staff
meetings. With Glass, that didn't bother him quite so much because
he didn't expect military professionalism from someone who was not
especially part of his transit crew, a scientist; they were used to
discoveries in their own times on their own terms. But he did expect
it from his chief engineer. This time, though, the news of their
discovery had brought everyone running.
Parr leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasped together in
front of him. "As you all know, at 22:00 this evening the *Ille
Pendoro* entered the TD-102 star system for a routine exploration and
cataloging of resources. Since we were arriving just before the
fourth shift changeover, it was decided that we do an automated probe
scan during the night and that during first and second shift next
morning the science teams would conduct their usual investigations.
"At 26:10 that all changed with the discovery of major
metropolitan structures on the fifth planet of the system as well as
orbital facilities, at least one of them designed for occupation."
A ripple of excitement went through the members of the team.
Cafran suppressed a small smile to see that even Rhonda's 'droid
reacted appropriately. "Notice I haven't said anything about people.
Some of you already know, and the rest of you will see shortly, that
as far as we can determine these people wiped themselves out in a
nuclear spasm."
Of the eight people arranged around the table, four drooped
noticeably. "Do we know how long ago?" Doctor Baker asked.
"No, not really," Parr replied. "We will be able to estimate
once we make orbit and bring one of their satellites inside for
micrometeorite damage assessment, and if any of them used nuclear
fuels a half-life analysis will provide us with an even more accurate
picture of history." He held up his PADD and examined it for a
moment. "At this point there's nothing to support the theory that
there is any sentient, or even non-sentient, life on the planet's
surface."
"Will there be expeditionary parties down to the surface?" Fezzik
asked.
Cafran smiled. Almost every member of the sixty crewfen on board
his ship held double duty; otherwise scientists would go crazy during
transit and engineers would do the same during explorations.
Executive members of the crew were generally chosen from scientific
backgrounds unlikely to interfere with their primary mission, and
upper-level scientists like Glass were trained in some aspect of
ship's function but were rarely called upon. Every scout ship needed
a technological archaeologist, but since there were only six events
in recorded history that had required one, the TA was cross-trained
from (or to) command, upper engineering, or personnel management.
Fezzik, his chief of engineering, was also his technological
archaeologist, and a chance at hacking away at the seventh 'dead'
sentient species ever found certainly held her attention.
He cleared his throat. "If I determine that there is no inherent
risk in doing so, yes, Fez, you can go down to the surface and pick
up whatever your heart desires. It's almost time to head home and as
you know the holds are almost empty."
"Thank you," she breathed, beaming. Cafran had to admit that
making her happy made him feel good, and he worried momentarily about
the professional detachment he was supposed to be projecting.
He looked over at Doctor Baker. "Sorry for waking you up this
early, Doc. Looks like we're not gonna need you."
"Not a problem, Captain," Baker replied. "Even if my services
aren't needed on the surface below, excitement like this always leads
to an accident or unfortunate mishap. It's best that I know now that
the crew is probably going to be mucking about on the planet's
surface."
"Markov, how soon can you give us your time estimates?"
"As soon as Parr gets me a satellite to take apart and Miroh
gives me a weather report."
Cafran nodded, bemused by Heely's uses of the term "weather
report" to describe the local particle and energy environment.
"Until we know more, there's not much left to discuss. I thank you
all for coming so early this morning and I'll leave you to your
individual teams. I'd like to be able to authorize you additional
sleep time to return the three hours I took away from you this
morning, but I don't think your staffs would let you have it."
"Probably not," Lieutenant Heely agreed.
"Dismissed."
- - -
It's fragile, Lieutenant Markov Heely thought as she floated
closer to the satellite that the *Ille Pendoro* had been chasing for
the past hour and a half. It hovered before her sensor-enhanced
eyes, her vision filtered through a range of input sensors that she
had long been accustomed to using.
The satellite was of a very traditional design, using a pair of
rectangular antennas and operant under the assumption that he ground
stations had the power to reach a small rectenna in geosynchronus
orbit, and the sensitivity to hear the output of the same. Her
internal analysis of the satellite at this range indicated that it
once had a nuclear power source along with the array of solar
collectors that covered the entire surface of the satellite.
She registered that that was an assumption. Radar 'slices' of
the insides showed a large gap, as if nuclear fuel had runaway and
melted the insides. But there as no radiation coming from the
satellite, no evidence of power fluctuations. "It's cold. Bring in
the first half of the sphere."
Behind her, three members of her EVA team floated towards the
satellite, a band of what appeared to be wires nearly 20 meters in
diameters in their hands. "How are we doing on velocities?" she
asked Rhonda.
"Almost perfect. I could easily handle the rest without
influencing the satellite unduly. And it's a lot easier then trying
to make the *Ille Pendoro* do this!"
"Yeah," Heely agreed. The debate had gone on for almost ten
minutes about bringing the satellite into the ship. It could have
been done, but the assessment had finally concluded that an orbital
lab would have been safer and more efficient to set up.
The three people responsible for placing the ring raised thumbs
up in confirmation, then one floated back while two took up opposite
sides of the ring. "Ready for expansion, sir."
"Do it," Heely said. She watched as the two ensigns, volunteers,
activated the small mounting circles along the band, making the
multiple strands of curved wire expand, rotating about a common
access until they defined a ball around the satellite.
Heely directed the other two members of the EVA team to fit the
ball with the multi-layer cloth external shell that would inflate to
provide a shirt-sleeve environment for the satellite investigation
team. The two halves of the ball overlapped along the initial band,
and after about a half-hour of fitting the "cloth," the engineering
team announced that it was ready to fit the access module, a box that
had life-support, power, and emergency airlock access.
Flexible structures in space was an old technology. Terra, as
far back as their late 20th century, when they had nothing but
chemical rockets and had ventured only as far as their local moon,
experimented with inflatable structures for medium-scale, temporary
orbital or lunar installations as well as emergency shelters that
could be folded up and stored away. These had used nothing more than
the same protective "cloths" used in their EVA suits.
The evolution of programmed-death biological engineering,
followed by solid, artificial ergasynthesis and finally fully
realized nanotechnology had led to the next-stage evolution of
microengineering and electromagnetic matrixed cloth, the stuff of
Stark and the 'muscle' of hardshell powered armor like Shirow. Each
'cell' of the matrix, smaller slightly then a standard biological
cell, attracted or repulsed its neighbor by controlling the flow of
electrons across its surface. The instructions for doing so flowed
over the surface of the cloth by mild changes in the overall
electrical field, both in frequency and in amplitude depending on the
application. "Flat" cloth was made up of multiple layers of
hexagonal cells and could pull along any active axis of the cell.
Some versions of flatcloth used deforming cells, and these were the
kinds most often used in armor, because although their range of
contraction was smaller, their maximum strength was the greatest
available. Three-dimensional cloths were available, but they were
weaker and were generally used only for artistic or light-duty
robotics applications.
Pre-fab two-dimensional cloths such as the one they were using
now were a great boon to orbital research. Although not as useful as
something made of clear polyceramics, there was something to be said
for a 1400 cubic meter structure that folded into a two by three
meter box, and that could be constructed around the subject of
investigation.
And what was currently a sphere could be broken into two halves,
laid with a rigid, flat sheet of powered cloth and made into surface
domes for uncomfortable environments.
"What's it look like in there, ensign?" she asked the one
volunteer she had left inside the ball.
"Satellite is still hovering dead center, sir," the report came
back in her ears. "Be nice if I had some light to work with."
"Your wish is my command," she said, touching a switch. The
silvered ball expanded slightly, becoming rigid. "How's that?"
"Good, sir. No change from the satellite."
"I'm going to give you an atmosphere, ensign. Starting." She
pressed another button on the command console. The linear gauge
registered the increase in pressure inside until it reached the same
pressure that was maintained inside the typical starship. "Any
change?"
"No sir. I'm surprised; I would have thought some components
would have responded poorly to a change in atmosphere."
"It's likely that the satellite was assembled on the ground,"
Heely pointed out.
"Yes sir."
"I'm coming in to join you." She floated towards the power
module. On the outside of the power module was a SDisk that led
inside. She touched it, waited for the blink, then found herself
inside the sphere. "Rhonda, are we connected to the ship?"
"Yes we are," the AI replied. The SDisk inside turned green,
indicating that it was now part of the *Ille Pendoro* SDisk network.
"Good job, engineering. Could the Satellite Autopsy Team please
join us?"
- - -
"It's a mess," Lieutenant Heely was saying four hours later.
"When compared to the weather patterns we're reading from the orbital
track, I'd say this thing has been here between nine hundred twenty
and nine hundred seventy years. The one good thing about the
satellite is that it was nuclear powered, and we're guessing at what
the original status of the nuclear fuel rod was, but we might be able
to get a more accurate estimate of the satellite's age."
"Lieutenant," Commander Fezzik said when it was obvious Heely had
concluded her report, "You're working on the basis that the failure
of the nuclear core was caused by accident. Have you considered
hostile action?"
"I don't understand?"
Cafran leaned forward. "I see what she's saying," he said.
"Markov, we're not particularly used to thinking in warlike terms.
But, what if the hardware that regulated their generators was
destroyed by hostile EMP? Wouldn't trace radiation from materials in
the path of the melting core give you a solid indication, almost to
the minute, of when the EMP occurred? And if so, wouldn't that tell
us at least to the day when the war happened? First thing they'd
want to do is destroy each other's orbital monitoring facilities,
right?"
"I hadn't thought of that," Heely said, scribbling madly on the
PADD in front of her. "I'll get on it immediately."
"In the mean time," Lieutenant Miroh was saying, "I have a
surprise. Fezzik, you're going down to the surface."
"I am?"
"She is?" Cafran asked, surprised.
"Your pardon, Captain," Miroh, the head of the Sensors and the
ship's chief planetologist, continued. "I didn't mean to usurp your
authority, but it is my understanding that Commander Fezzik would
like to exercise her skills as a technological archaeologist on the
surface of this world, and I believe the perfect opportunity for her
to do so has come up. We are detecting a power source on the
planet's surface."
The room erupted in cries of "What?" Cafran pounded on the table
to regain control. "Hold it! Miroh, explain."
"About an hour ago I decided to check the surface for the
possibility of military traffic or intelligence. I found evidence
not of a military installation necessarily, but I did find sufficient
fast neutrinos to point to a fusion power source."
"Miroh," Heely said, "There's no evidence that these people had
controlled fusion. The power source in the satellite is very much a
slow fission process."
"That's what the numbers point to. In fact, the output
characteristics is surprisingly close to that of early Pendor fusion
plants."
Fezzik examined her PADD closely. "I think it's closer to some
Terran models. Maybe a second-generation Morrow station plant."
"In any event," Miroh continued, "We're looking at an
approximately 30 kilowatt installation. The locale is a sub-arctic
region within about 20 kilometers of what looks to have been a major
metropolitan seaport. It was apparently a military target. There's
not much left."
"Is there any surface construction at the site?" Fezzik's voice
was charged with curiosity.
"Extensive," Miroh said. "The layout of the visible grounds is
quite interesting and apparently somewhat haphazard. We haven't been
able to guess the logic behind the layout, and if we are going to be
sending a team down to investigate, I would like that particular
mystery to be investigated as well."
"You'll get your chance, Miroh," Cafran said. "Okay, we have our
jobs. Doc, sorry, but..."
The Lutra drummed her fingers on the tabletop. "Like I said, I
don't want excitement right now. It's nearly the end of the tour."
Cafran nodded. "Okay. Miroh, you're to finish up an assessment,
including a three-angle neutrino scan, of the site. Fezzik, draw up
an engineering and investigation team. Parry, two pilots for a SDisk
shuttle first thing in the morning. Heely, I want the assessment of
that satellite completed for Fezzik's team." He glanced over at
Glass. "Sorry, Mandy. Looks like you're out of luck. That place is
sterile as space."
"'S okay, Captain," she said. "If we can find traces down there
I'll be happy.
--
"Journal Entry 031 / 1028 [ The Ritacha War: Breakthrough ]"
The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., and Related Tales
are copyright (C) 1989-1995 Elf Mathieu Sternberg. Redistribution of
this work for profit is reserved to the author. Redistribution by
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Any redistribution must include this copyright notice intact.