Echelon’s End
Book 5:
Chasing Infinity
By
E. Robert Dunn
PROLOGUE:
Lights on the upper deck had been dimmed. The illusion of circadian cadences was preserved to fit in with the long familiar internal rhythms. Only holo-sets maintained their vigil with 3-D data-streams or waiting insignia legends. A constant background of audio and visual information of a general nature relating to aspects of life on the podship was present. Reports on Space conditions, computer news of the podship status, progress reports on probe scans, duty schedules - routine chatter about daily life. Information available to everyone through the communications columns found in every communal area.
Major Nicraan Matasire looked out over the shimmering tracers of light flashing by the bowport. He shivered. The reaches of Space were so vast, so empty. A star, brighter than the others passing through hyperspace, flared briefly.
A male with considerable self-confidence and ability to command. At the time, he had jumped at the chance to partake in the construction of probeship AST Saarien and subsequent PODships, stimulated by the danger and excitement inherent in the job. Since the destruction of the probeship and survival of countless trials and tribulations since, Matasire had quickly proved his worth. He had become the podship Pioneer 4 Commander's ‘right-hand’. His responsibility, to oversee the smooth operation of the podship. At many times a younger reflection of the male he served.
Nicraan turned away. The routine of the flight deck claimed his attention. Watches had changed; the Pioneer Pod 4 was his responsibility now. The astrogator needed confirmation on the ship’s heading. Nicraan was guiltily glad of the chance to lose himself in professional attentions, to forget for a while that his comrades and he were in a saucer-shaped craft and heading through regions of Space where star-maps ended.
“Computer,” the pilot called to the astrogator’s tie-in control. After the recognition tone, he said, “Scan for Tauron presence in approaching vectors.”
A moment, then the clipped synth-voice responded, “Search complete. No sign of indicated life form.”
It was odd to see the flight deck empty, the non-essential holo-sets dark, the quarterdeck back wall computer banks working at half-capacity, and duty stations empty of personnel. In the dim glow of the reserve lights the place had a ghostly appearance, recognizable shapes drawn eerie. Only the clear syntheglass of the bowport held a touch of beauty, the shimmer of the hyperspace deflector shield.
Nicraan took station in the deck-recessed contoured pilot seat and glanced down at the navigation panel on the facing control console. Calculations raced the holo-spread, more than crude statistical measurements of time and space from the Pod’s concealed long-range telescopic sensor array. Peering closer, the pilot entertained a flight of fancy with the tens-of-thousands of planetary groups light-shifting past the Pioneer at 6c. Of those, the conditions necessary for life he knew were one in a thousand against. So that meant that 1014 were left. Refining again, the numbers got down to 1011 with an atmosphere. Logically, Nicraan figured that somewhere there had to be a hundred million planets where life had actually got up a little stream. And all the crew really needed was one. So why did Capel want to go to Sheey?
He took a deep breath, fighting his imagination, wishing that he, like the others, had found things to occupy his mind during the transit back to the remnants of The System. Cold, unwelcoming Space beckoned outside the bowport as Matasire redirected his attention.
Questions swirled in his mind of what the future held for his comrades and himself. They were faced with no alternative but to prepare for the worst. They had taken every opportunity to stock the Pod with the raw materials that would be required to keep them alive from Thilen Nine’s planet. The podship had become a refuge for the Aidennians as it crossed the great abyss between the planets. And, there was a lot of Space out there. However, could they make it?
“To Another Shore”
CHAPTER ONE:
"Sire. I'm turning in,” Lieutenant Retho Capelsire called out from the astrogator.
"Lucky you."
"Goodnight, Sire."
Retho walked back through the flight deck, heading for the quarterdeck’s lift.
Commander Capel Perezsire lifted his cup of tea from the sideboard of the command console and took a leisurely sip as he surveyed the instrumentation before him. A report on the sector of Space the Pioneer 4 was traversing was up for review. Other than the unusual composition of many of the region’s rogue planetoids and errand asteroids, there was little to note about that whisked by at hyperdrive speeds.
A male, a pilot, a maverick, an astronaut, and an astrophysicist of very high repute whose interest in science began when Capel Perezsire was only in his adolescence. An interesting and somewhat complex male with two streaks in him: one, rather ruthless and efficient, the 'mind-as-computer' aspect; and, on the other hand, a moody and introspective strain. A male with one foot somewhat in the past and one foot somewhere in the future.
For the moment the only thing of interest to the commander was the exotic aroma of the oolong tea he consumed. His scientific mind knew the sensation of astringency of the liquid was caused by a reaction between polyphenols (tannins) and the protein in saliva. The limbic section of his brain just relished the ‘puckery’ sensation created along the sides of his tongue.
He mused over the historical note of tea’s discovery; as legend had it, when some tealeaves accidentally blew into a pot of boiling water. A myth that had been passed from generation to generation for eons. Where and when was of no interest to Capel; for him, the bouquet, astringency, body, and muscatel of the beverage mattered.
In the coldness of Space there were few pleasures. Capel grasped the rare moments when they came along to remove him from the podship’s clinical surroundings and make them homier. For him, tea was his drug of choice for escape; it took him to places of mind and spirit. Others of his crew had their vices: for his daughter, Moela, it was things of antiquity, his consort, Dara, her photography, for his son, Retho, literature, and for the ship’s pilot, Nicraan, spacecraft engineering models. Idiosyncrasies perhaps, but all helped as psychological pressure values that maintained sanity in the midst of the juxtaposition of monotony against chaos.
Finishing the drink, he rose from his seat in the Pioneer 4’s command-apse, stretching knotted muscles as his body surrendered at last to relief. Finally able to stop looking at the stars warped by hyperspace, he turned to look back at the flight deck’s active hardware.
For good-housekeeping measure, Capel replaced the emptied cup he used for his tea back into the flight deck’s food slot. Activating the recycling program caused the niche to flash with a reclamation beam. When the light was gone, so was the cup.
A holographic schematic of the known galaxy hung in the air at the center of the upper deck above the astrogator’s parabolic display. The commander recognized the familiar icon of the Pod 4 among the stars. On the far side of the presentation there was another blinking point of light: Sheey. It was their destination now. Almost forgotten was Mira IV – their original point of termination; a place to settle, to make a new home. A place of memory, of unfulfilled history.
The flight deck was empty of any other personnel. It was the ‘night-watch’ onboard, and his turn as exec. There was some sanctuary in solitude, even if it was an illusion. The others were around him, he felt their united-Ka; but in the confined space such as the podship afforded it was refreshing to find a moment of privacy while the crew slept.
From the command console a warning pinger sounded. Holo-screens deckwide showed a test card for a heartbeat, then broke into clicking hieroglyphics flashing passed in quick three-dimensional succession. Static broke through the still air, overtaking the steady background oscillations of the computers synchronizing. Capel Perezsire looked mildly worried, more annoyed that his peace was disturbed than anything.
Doing a manual check, Capel’s mouth gaped. “It's coming in on every channel.”
The hieroglyphics suddenly stopped. Normalcy returned to the podship.
Thumbing a computer tie-in control, Perezsire said, “Report, Computer.”
All of the information, on whatever subject, that concerned the working operations of Pioneer 4 was stored in the Central Computer. Everyone on the podship had access to the computer to a greater or lesser degree. Getting the information simply by asking for it through their commpins, field communicators, or ever-present audio-pickup. For information to which not entitled, then the computer quickly refused to divulge. Its method of selection straightforward. The same electronic key that gave the crew access to specific areas also governed their access to the computer's information. Whenever a request was made the Computer knew instantly, by means of the electronic key and/or voice recognition, who was making a request and the extent of the information to which that particular individual was entitled.
“Receiving a series of hypospace signals that may indicate intelligent life in the Silar el-Mitrix region,” the electronic companion reported. “We are within sensor range.”
A new alert sounded to replace the first and Capel urged the computer to continue with its report. The holoset before him illuminated edge-to-edge with raw data as the synthetic voice of the on-board narrated, “Sensors indicate a small metallic object ahead.”
“Configuration?”
“Unknown. Nothing in database comes close for identification.” The computer seemed to pause for dramatic effective before adding, “Within visual range.”
As the commander watched the sectional bowport, he caught the briefest glimpse of a spacer-shaped mass buried at the turbulent center of the rolling tubule of hyperspace.
“Computer,” Capel called out. “Analysis.”
It only took a moment for the electronic brain to reply. “No discernible armament. Reading no life-forms aboard, it is on automation.”
“Hail the object.”
There was a lull in the interchange while the computer did his bidding.
“No response.”
“Whatever that is, it doesn’t seem to be responsive,” Capel frowned. His gut was twinging; not a good sign.
An attention signal sounded on the air and the computer quickly explained, “The ship is being scanned. Sensor system is not like any on record. Evasive directives are now advised to be initiated. Raise shields?”
“No …” Capel paused, quelling his instinct to duck-and-cover. “Let’s begin with a show of good faith. After all, we are still outside The System. First Contact is a dead art for Spacecorps. And, we could use all the allies …”
Another alert signal played on the air, cutting him off. “Alien scans are now matching the frequency of Pioneer Four’s data network. Warning! This could be an attempt to access ship’s computer systems. Scanning intensity has increased by fifteen hundred percent.”
This wasn’t going the way in which the commander had hoped. Throwing his hands up in defeat, he sighed, “Shields up.”
The command-apse instantly became a pandemonium of light as on-board systems went to crisis status. Out the bowport the foreign probe grew larger as he watched. Nose on, it looked like a black dragonfly.
White flakes and strands of energy floated passed the podship. As Perezsire observed, the flakes started to collect around the Pioneer 4’s reactive shielding.
“Computer,” he called out. “"There are strange shapes forming all around us."
More energy accreted to the podship protective bubble, causing it to become opaque at contact points. A hardening shell. The form of the podship was hidden under a mass of white.
“Alien scanning signal has penetrated ship’s shields,” the computer explained yet another alarm.
A series of short sharp bleeps and resonant trills came from the flight deck equipment. The command-apse’s consoles’ lights on their panels flashed off and on in response to several resounding alerts. The quarterdeck wall computer banks had developed a schism. Perezsire felt an inexplicable dread as he watched.
Out the bowport, the strained force fields that surrounded and protected the podship suddenly vanished; as if a soap bubble popping. The view suddenly, starky in full clarity. A diminishing whine waned in the background.
“Warning!” the reedy voice of the computer called out. “Shields interrupted. Hyperspace fields collapsing. Computers going off-line.”
“Take evasive action!” Capel cried, tabbing several flight controls system icons. The panel before him should have illuminated with his touch and input of command codes. Instead it stayed dead gray. “Computer, the helm’s not responding.”
Beyond the clear bowport syntheglass, the mottled-effect of hyperspace coalesced into real-time pinpoints of light. The Pioneer Pod 4 was now at sublight speed. The once benign alien satellite suddenly took on a malignant cosh as it too phased from hyperspace.
Perezsire punched activation codes again, but there was no change. Anxiously he leapt over to the secondary piloting chair and tapped out a command for the ailing computer. No response.
There was a moment’s horrified silence, and then he slapped his hand down on the RED ALERT icon. It took a moment for him to catch on. He looked at the ship communication monitors. There was neither a sound nor a flicker of a response. The alert system was dead as well.
“We’ve been cut off!” Capel shouted aloud.
At that moment there was just the slightest tremor across the floor plating of the unusually quiet fight deck. It was quickly followed by an abrupt lance of brilliant, blinding beryl light.
The jade brightness appeared to emanate from nowhere, although it seemed to be at its brightest around the bowport. Shielding his eyes with his arms, he was able, with difficulty, to discern the outlines of the hostile beyond the syntheglass. Photochromic carbon-based molecules embedded in the sectional panes that change their molecular structure when UV light struck them (and thus absorbed more light) and become dark, failed.
Proactively, Perezsire reached out to the panel before him and tabbed the bowport’s shutter control. For all his effort a dull inactive buzz was his reward along with a computer taunt: Function unavailable. To Perezsire it could just as easily had been a raspberry.
He remained unhurt, gazing helplessly as the light tracked him with its fierce rays as he attempted to evade its contact. Perezsire moved deeper into the flight deck, behind the astrogator, the light followed him. It blazed around him, then faded away completely.
Major Nicraan Matasire moved through the lower deck on his way to the engineering section, checking instruments as he entered the cabin, noting the findings. The new installations were working well, in the rotates since they had left the Thilen Nine solar group the ship had been put on a near-military footing with back-up furnishings re-enforcing the original sensors. Yet a few bugs remained to be ironed out. He had just come on duty and was seeing to it.
“Computer, can you switch off outside circuits four and seven?” he called out as he moved to the main console and pressed the appropriate keys. When there was no response from the on-board brain, he called out again the order.
Confused, the engineer set to work manually. Opening a panel he began to check the complex circuits, grunting as he found a faulty component, changing it for a new one with trained dexterity. Closing the panel he rose, glancing up at the main system’s display section of the control room. Everything was blank. Tabbing his collared commpin, he called, “Computer, report on systemic malfunctions!”
This time when there was no response, he took the direct route uptop to the main deck. As the lift car leveled, he could see the bowport filled with Space. It was empty but for a blaze of stars, a breathtaking vista of the Universe; they were no longer in hyperspace. Capel Perezsire was stationed with his back toward him at the astrogator. He stood looking at it as well.
“Commander?” Nicraan frowned as Perezsire made no answer. Leaving the elevator cage, he said again, “Commander?”
Matasire quickly studied the three-dimensional grid up for view as well as the data files afloat on the holograph’s periphery. “There are intermittent sensor readings,” he said aloud, trying to rouse his commander. “It looks like there’s metallic debris right in front of us. Distance seventeen kiloretems. Are they the remains of a ship, Commander?”
No response. The commander’s face remained frozen as if in shock. Perezsire ignored him.
“You look as if you’ve been stunned by some bioelectric field…” Matasire’s comment was interrupted.
As if reaching a sudden decision Perezsire stepped quickly towards the command-apse and began to operate the highly complex navigation and helm controls. He moved quickly, hands dancing with amazing skill, his face expressionless as he stared at the bowport. Within moments, the warp effect filled the bowport in a red-shift of light. They were on the move again.
“What the wraiths?” Nicraan came running. “Commander, what are you doing?”
Glancing down at the monitoring systems, Matasire saw that the ship’s course had been dramatically altered. Over his shoulder, he could see the flight path change. Sheey was no longer represented in the holographic map; instead a remote star group took center stage.
Once again, Nicraan tried to reason with the kinetic commander. “What are you doing? You’ve altered our flight path away from Sheey, from The System. Why?”
He gripped Capel’s arm to get his attention and was sent flying. With his senses still spinning behind his eyes, Nicraan made another attempt at grabbing Perezsire as he worked. It was like gripping an uncoiling spring. Again the pilot was swatted away to sprawl on the deck. His head coming down on the polish solidity with a loud crack! Unconsciousness came quickly with tunnel-vision that flashed to blur and to fade into darkness. Sound whirled in a strange, haunting whisper … Remember nothing …rreeemmmmmbbbeerrrnoootttthingggg …. nothing