The engines had to race at full power to enter the conduit. Once inside the walls of the jump-space, the computers would marginally reduce the speed of the craft. After only an hour, the conduit would expel the ship as she was sucked in by the gravitational forces of the M88 galaxy in the Virgo Cluster, the next landmark on their journey.
Before any of that happened, though, the captain had to finish his tour of engineering and return to the bridge. Satisfied that Lieutenant Guttmann was on schedule and had his department on task, Captain Hill departed.
O’Connell, standing beside her pilot’s chair, came to attention when he emerged on the bridge deck.
“Complete pre-jump walk-through, Commander.”
O’Connell stiffened.
What does he think I’ve been doing for the past fifteen minutes
? “My walk-through is complete, sir.”
The captain looked up from the notes he’d been consulting. “Is it?” His tone was cold with doubt. “Then take your seat, Commander, I have the con.”
“Captain has the con, aye.”
As she settled into her seat and slid her arms through the loops of the shoulder restraints, O’Connell caught sight of the captain when he moved to stand beside the co-pilot’s chair. Lieutenant Price looked up at his commanding officer then wordlessly transmitted the system parameters for the pilot’s station to the captain’s tablet. The commander’s temper ratcheted up another five notches. The final pre-jump checklist was supposed to be relayed by the
senior
pilot. She hadn’t heard the captain ask for it and she certainly hadn’t authorized Price to transmit anything. Worse, she didn’t see any sign that the captain was prepared to rebuke Price for by-passing her authority. Instead, he nodded at the lieutenant, and gave the commander a stern look.
“Check your straps, O’Connell.” He walked off, seemingly oblivious to the glare she shot his way.
Maggie jerked her restraints tight and clicked them in place. She switched the helm control back-up setting to default to her station. Then she had nothing more to do except wait and fume.
“Carbon compressor tubes vented, sir. Fuel production systems shut down and secured.”
Hill acknowledged Chief Turner’s report with a clipped “Thank you.”
A bell chimed on the ship-wide communications circuit followed by a recorded message. “All personnel please check restraint straps and prepare for conduit jump. All section heads report jump status to bridge.”
Lights on Ensign Chi’s jump board began to flash green. After a minute, he looked up and said “Sir, I have a green board. Ship is ready for jump.”
“Captain to engineering: You may start the jump countdown sequence.”
Guttmann’s response came clearly over the circuit. “Aye, aye, sir. Starting sequence for jump 001.”
In the engineering space, Swede leaned over a console and stared at the display. He could feel, through the deck beneath his feet, the increased vibrations from the engines. His ears, attuned to every whisper of his work-space, picked up the shift in harmonic resonance. Raw data scrolling before him on the data screen showed the spiking power levels to both engines. Adrenaline coursed through his body, dilating his pupils. Without consciously realizing it, he caught and held his breath.
On the bridge, the captain’s eyes narrowed. O’Connell’s hands tensed on the controls. Price leaned fractionally forward.
An Orion Station sensor buoy recorded the ISS shuttle
Hudson
floating just past Neptune’s orbit. Then it recorded stellar dust and increased magnetic energy. The space beyond the buoy, however, was empty of the
Hudson
.
***
The captain blinked. O’Connell rolled her head around and wiggled her fingers. Price relaxed against his seat restraints. In engineering, Guttmann released the breath he’d been holding.
Ensign Robertson broke the silence. “Sir, magnetic field readings indicate we are within the jump conduit. Fifty-seven minutes until we reach the terminus”
“Very well, Ensign.”
***
Fifty-six standard Earth minutes later, at the edge of the M88 galaxy, a Dremikian signal-relay drone registered a sudden increase in radiation levels and a brief reversal of gravitational forces. A bright elliptical shape flashed past and began transmitting navigational data.
“Engineering to the bridge. Sir, jump is complete.”
Ensign Robertson spoke next. “Sir, I have a navigational fix. We are at the designated jump terminus on the rim of the M88 Galaxy, otherwise known as Virgo.”
“Report received, engineering, navigation. Lieutenant Guttmann, begin power reduction cycles and stand down on engines. Robertson, please begin transmitting data to the relays.” The captain shifted in his chair to stretch his neck.
Ensign Chi was busy receiving status reports from around the ship. Each section head checked his area for gravity, air purity and supply, crew health, and general structural integrity.
Price released his seat straps and rose. He grabbed a kit from beside his seat. The co-pilot was also the jump section head for the bridge. He checked to make sure each crew member’s bio-metric chip transmitted data to the medical bay. After he confirmed their on-line status and they received a “green light” indicating proper blood pressure, Price allowed crew members to unbuckle their seat restraints and stretch their legs. Only O’Connell remained in her seat.
She studied the returns from the radio telemetry and radar sets. She’d been to M88 before, on the final test jump during the
Hudson’s
“shake-down” cruise. This section of the galaxy was quiet and empty of any astral bodies. Only the navigational beacon showed on radar. A small, cooling, star several million kilometers away emitted just enough radiation to cause a small blip on the
Hudson’s
sensors. The central navigational computer still flew the ship. All O’Connell had to do for the next few hours was monitor the flight systems and make sure nothing went horribly wrong. She repressed the urge to wriggle down and slouch in her seat. As boring as the rest of her shift would be, she was likely to fall asleep if she got too comfortable.
Lieutenant Guttmann didn’t have the luxury of relaxation. He had another monstrous check list to complete. The list of required items for post-jump inspection was just as tediously complex as the pre-jump list. The engines were slowly cycling down through their power settings. Once they reached minimal output he would request permission from the bridge to bring one engine down at a time and check for structural flaws caused by the forces exerted when entering and exiting the jump conduit.
“Starboard engine will reach idle settings in thirty six minutes, sir,” one of his petty officers reported.
“Thank you, Milkonyvich. Have Logan continue to monitor the power-down sequence while you prepare your team for the engine inspection.”
Inspecting the engines required letting them cool to 30 degrees Celsius. Each member of the five man team would be suited in full radiological gear, making their movements tedious and slow. The full inspection would take one hour from the time the first man stepped into the engine casing until the last man exited. They would repeat the process on the port engine two hours after that. Swede had a long night in front of him.
In the medical bay Dr. Ruger supervised the incoming updates of crew and civilians. One screen showed scrolling status reports. Names with vital signs outside of pre-determined ranges flashed and then the patient’s detailed report appeared on another screen. Cassie parsed them into categories for immediate action or further review. A corpsman by her side double checked the results to make sure the sorting program was functioning properly. Every person on the ship displayed increased stress and anxiety signs but nothing that caused the doctor any alarm. She yawned and then shot a chagrined look at the man by her side. “Sorry, Marty.”
Marty Mangoda grinned and shrugged. “Quite alright ma’am, as long as you don’t mind when I do it.” The corpsman’s congenial nature and excellent medical skills endeared him to the doctor. He wasn’t an enigma; she didn’t have to waste precious time interpreting his words or actions. With Marty, what she saw was what he was feeling. Moreover, she could trust him in a crisis.
“Marty when are you going to stop calling me ma’am?”
“I suppose that will be about the time they find ice caps on Mercury or I become captain of my own ship, ma’am.” He nodded at the screens. “Looks like we’re finished with this run-through. Should I start the spot checks or set up another run of the program?”
A quick glance at her chronometer told Cassie that she had plenty of time before the shift change. “I’d rather do spot checks.” She parceled out the decks between Mangoda and her other senior techs. “I’ll check the senior crew myself.”
When the doctor appeared on the bridge, the captain nodded in acknowledgement before returning to his reading. Behind him, Lieutenant Price announced the doctor’s presence for the log. Captain Hill set his tablet to display larger holographic images of the reports from engineering. He wanted to know if the readings from the latest jump matched their previous test-jumps. Around him the normal activities of the ship’s bridge continued, heard and seen, but not distracting.
Dr. Ruger tapped the commander on the arm. O’Connell looked up, sighed as if she was being subjected to some hideously boring lecture, and extended her arm. In response, the doctor rolled her eyes and tugged on the commander’s flight suit cuff a bit more roughly than necessary. When Maggie cut her a glare, Cassie bared her teeth. The data from the commander’s wrist implant matched that recorded in the medical bay. Because she was feeling perverse, Cassie pricked the skin on the pad of Maggie’s finger just to triple-check that the chip was functioning correctly. Not expecting the sharp stab from the pressurized syringe, O’Connell yelped.
Captain Hill frowned. “Something amiss, Doctor?”
Dr. Ruger released her roommate’s arm before turning to smile innocently at the captain. “Nothing at all. May I take a moment of your time and check your implant data?”
The captain stared a moment longer at the seat back that hid O’Connell from view. Then, he extended his left arm and returned to his reading. Whatever had caused O’Connell’s outburst was clearly not worthy of immediate investigation. She’d been in a contentious mood all day. He would speak to her later.
In the colonists’ quarter, Specialist Mangoda repeated the vitals checks of random patients. He stopped outside Vice-Chancellor Hill’s quarters and consulted his notes. Marissa Hill was scheduled for a full physical at the end of the week. He’d selected her name at random for his spot checks, but decided he could cross her off his list. If anything was wrong with her implant it would show up during her physical. He moved down the corridor to Chancellor Trell’s room.
The chancellor could
not
wait for his check-up. His blood cholesterol was elevated, again, and his blood sugar had spiked dramatically during the jump. Mangoda would check Trell’s blood readings and pressure before escorting him to sick bay. Doctor Ruger’s most troublesome patient wouldn’t appreciate the lecture he was about to receive. As a military man, and as such not reporting to the Chancellor, Mangoda had no qualms about harassing the man. That Trell took pleasure in using Dr. Ruger in the inevitable power struggle between crew and colonists only exacerbated the antagonism felt by the doctor’s entire staff. While she privately worried about her competency and her acceptance by the military personnel of the ship, Cassie’s medical staff was fiercely protective and loyal. Mangoda acted as the doctor’s official, if un-known to her, champion. Coolly professional, Marty chimed the chancellor’s door.
While the humans bustled through their post-jump routines, Dwax reclined in his room. He had no responsibilities, no tasks to complete. A small projected image showed the
Hudson
‘s position relative to Dremiks. Humans were disgustingly enthusiastic about the speeds that they could attain with Dremikian technology. Dremikians, Dwax in particular, were disgusted at how slowly humans moved. Like every Dremikian for nearly a thousand (Earth) years, Dwax had a countdown running in his head. While the
Hudson
plodded through space, the doomsday numbers of his mental clock rapidly ticked off.
Chapter 6
Like so many previous inventions intended for military purposes, the communications chip implanted in the cartilage of the human ear proved extremely adaptable. A built in stereo to play her favorite music while she worked out was Maggie O’Connell’s favorite commercial application of the technology. She uploaded new songs via her wrist implant and could listen to anything she wanted while running or weight training.
The
Hudson
‘s crew amenities included a full gym. Two of the colonists were trained kinesiologists specializing in maintaining muscle tone in low gravity and artificial gravity settings. One was also a licensed physical therapist. The colonists, as part of their contract, were expected to maintain a good level of physical health. The military crew was
required
to be in excellent shape.
The commander’s presence in the gym was, thankfully, barely noted by the other occupants. It was hard to concentrate on one’s workout when everyone in the room was watching you and holding his or her breath. After brief nods of greeting or smiles, the others returned to their respective workouts, leaving O’Connell in peace. She crouched down on a mat and began to stretch her back and arm muscles. It was 0600 in the morning, two hours before the start of the 0800-1200 forenoon watch. She had time for her strength training before a nice run and shower. Then, she had back to back watches on the bridge followed by an officer’s briefing at 1700 and dinner with the captain, Fortunas, and Ruger.
Finished stretching, she rose to claim a weight bench and found Lieutenant Price waiting for her. She tapped down her frustration level, always high when he appeared suddenly, and tried to smile. “Good morning, Lieutenant. Up for a little weight work?”