Solar Express (9 page)

“FusEx three, this is LunaCon. You are disengaged. Cleared for immediate release this time. Cleared to use thrusters. Do not activate drive until you are cleared for ignition.”

“LunaCon, three commencing release this time. Will await clearance for ignition.” Tavoian put the AI in maneuvering mode. “Commencing maneuvering this time.”

Once the ship was clear, Tavoian announced to the AI, “Destination is Lunar Lagrange Point One. Begin destination orientation.” He watched while the AI oriented the ship for the trip to Luna Lagrange One, a course that would gradually converge to parallel the nearside lunar elevator that ran from the Moon's surface to Lagrange Point One.

After several moments, the AI replied,
ORIENTATION COMPLETE. READY FOR IGNITION.

At that, Tavoian commlinked, “Three oriented and ready for departure.”

“FusEx three, you're cleared for ignition and departure.”

“LunaCon, understand cleared for ignition.” Tavoian switched to the AI. “Commence ignition.”

COMMENCING IGNITION.

Initially, there was the faintest sense of pressure, pushing Tavoian back into his couch. That faint pressure continued to build for the next several minutes until it reached one gee, leveling out at that point. While he turned off the “restraint” display in the passenger deck, he did not bother to unstrap, not for the less than twenty minutes before turnover and decel.

He still couldn't help but wonder what awaited him at LL1. Lunar Lagrange Station 1 was entirely Noram, funded originally as a means to obtain Hel3 and whatever other lunar resources might prove useful … and profitable. After almost a century, Helium three remained the most useful and profitable, although enough light metals, water, and hydrogen had showed up that a small supply and fabricating industry had developed to provide some other supplies and equipment for near-Earth space activities.

After nineteen minutes of acceleration, followed by turnover, and eighteen point nine minutes of deceleration, FusEx three moved slowly toward docking ring two of Lunar Lagrange Station One. Tavoian link-pulsed the station. “EllgeeCon, FusEx three, approaching for docking.”

“FusEx three, cleared for docking at lock two. Thrusters only.”

“Understand lock two.” Tavoian cut the drive. “Proceeding on thrusters this time.” He turned over approach control to the ship's AI, although he continued to monitor the rate of closure until FusEx three rested in the locking cradle, and the station umbilical was ready to supply power. Then he switched to station power.

“FusEx three, Ellgee Control. You're cleared for disembarkation. Your replacement is standing by. Please leave your fueling port unsealed.”

“Will do, Control. Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

Replacement?
Someone wasn't wasting any time.

Still thinking about that, Tavoian shut down the ship's aux power before continuing shutdown procedures. Then he turned off the restraint light, and once he had opened the hatch to the forward passenger deck, he went along the ladder hand over hand.

Even before he was near the lock on the passenger deck, Frezza and Franck were unstrapped and retrieving their gear. At the same time, the AI announced through his earpiece,
YOUR REPLACEMENT IS READY TO ENTER.

Tavoian did not reply to that, but opened the lock hatch and turned to the two techs. “Whenever you're ready.”

Frezza moved toward the lock, nodded, and said, “Thank you.” She did not smile.

“Thank you, Captain,” added Franck, grinning boyishly.

“You're welcome.” Tavoian closed the inner lock and opened the outer one to the station. Once he saw that the techs were clear, he watched as a uniformed figure with a kit bag entered the lock with the grace of experience in weightlessness. Then he closed the outer lock and opened the inner one.

Not totally surprisingly, Tavoian recognized the major who pulled himself through the open inner hatch and into the ship, a kit bag in one hand—Drake Gray.

“Good to see you again, Chris,” offered the major.

“
You're
my replacement?” That didn't make sense to Tavoian. Gray had been a senior captain when he'd trained Tavoian, and he was probably near his rad limit, if not over it, by now.

“Only for one hop, and I'm not the pilot.” Gray offered a crooked smile. “I am in command, though. We're using your ship to pick up some special equipment. Your escort will be here shortly. You'll meet her at lock five, or rather you'll meet the tug she's piloting there.”

“Will I need an exosuit?”

“No. They're sending a passenger tug.”

“Can you tell me what this is all about?”

“No. You'll find out once she takes you to your new assignment.”

“Exactly where is that?”

“You'll see when you get there.”

“That's it?”

“You never were the most patient officer, but you'll learn.” Gray grinned. “We all do, sooner or later. You'd better get your kit. The colonel doesn't like officers who keep others waiting.”

Tavoian decided against asking who “the colonel” was. He'd find out soon enough. He nodded and went to the end locker and pulled out his kit bag. Then he pulsed the signal to the AI that he was delinking, which would require Gray, or the pilot who was presumably on his way, to offer the proper authentication to take control of the ship.

“You have the ship, sir.”

“I have the ship, Captain.”

There was no gravity in the docking ring, but there was a moving rail on the inner side of the ring corridor. Tavoian grabbed it and let it tow him to lock five. He arrived just moments before the lock door opened.

The outer lock hatch of the tug was low enough that he angled himself forward as he pulled himself into the craft's lock, surprisingly large for a tug, although most tug locks were only big enough for two people in exosuits.

The tug pilot stood, or floated upright, by the hatch to the control deck, since the layout of the tug was more like an aircraft than a burner. She was a fresh-faced first lieutenant, who immediately said, “Courtney Collins, Captain. You can have the right seat up with me, if you want. You're the only one, and if you're like the others, you hate being a passenger.”

The others?
“Where are we headed, if I might ask?”

“Donovan Base.”

Tavoian had never heard of it. “Here at Lagrange One?”

Collins nodded. “Close enough. You don't have to strap in, but it will keep you in place. The lockers are at the back.”

Tavoian took the hint, stowed his kit, and then returned to the copilot's couch and strapped in. He doubted that there was a copilot very often. “The number two seat is just for training and familiarization?”

“That's right. There aren't any simulators for this tug.”

Tavoian had to admit he hadn't seen any pressurized space tugs before. “Because it's more of a transport, and it saves on suits … and notice?”

“Mostly notice, I'd judge.”

The other difference was that the tug had both a view plate in front of the controls, with a heads-up display, suggesting that the pilot had to do visual maneuvering in areas where the screen displays either could not be used or were not used, possibly for security reasons. Tavoian kept that thought to himself as Collins commlinked.

“EllgeeCon, Shuttle Zebra, departing lock five this time.”

“Zebra, you're clear.”

Tavoian was initially surprised when the lieutenant did not turn control over to an AI, but then realized that there wasn't one. That didn't make him feel any better.

The tug's destination was a gray cylinder floating in space. As they neared, Tavoian could see that it was huge, possibly a thousand meters in length and five hundred in diameter, with a docking ring that was a solid disk above. Given the short time it took Collins to guide the tug there, Tavoian doubted that it was more than five or ten kays from LL1, if that, because the effective area of the libration point at L1 was comparatively small.

Interestingly enough, Collins did not request clearance as the tug approached the cylinder.

“Active IFF?” asked Tavoian.

She nodded.

He didn't ask any more questions as she used what were clearly beefed-up gasjet thrusters to maneuver the tug to where the station grapples enfolded it and drew it to the lock. Before that, Tavoian had also seen a far larger cargo lock farther around the circumference of the docking ring. While he couldn't be certain, he thought he might have glimpsed a fusionjet on the far side of the ring as well.

An angular and narrow-faced tech2 in a plain gray shipsuit waited outside the lock, his boots well above the deck. As in all stations, the docking ring was not rotated.

“Welcome to Donovan Base, sir.” The tech reached for Tavoian's kit. “I'll take your gear, sir.”

“That's not optional, is it?”

“No, sir. It will be waiting in your quarters after you meet with the colonel.”

That was another factor that told Tavoian that Donovan Base was a secure installation. Everything in his kit bag would be scanned, and then some, before it was returned to him.

“This way, sir.” The tech moved toward a corridor that led to the center of the docking disk. Once there, he touched a stud, and the transit rail began to move. Following the tech's example, Tavoian grasped the rail and was pulled toward the center of the disk, where an open shaft dropped down, presumably into the center of the cylinder that was the base. Four ladders led down, not that there was any “down” in weightlessness. It could have been “up” as well, but Tavoian preferred to think of it as down. He went hand over hand, just using the ladder rungs occasionally, and joined the tech in front of an open hatch.

“After you, sir.”

Tavoian stepped into what seemed like a small room or an elevator car, but what had to be a transfer car that would match the rotational speed of the base. The tech followed, and the hatch to the shaft closed. Tavoian shifted position so that his feet were against the bulkhead opposite the hatch, which would become the floor—sort of, because there would be that much centripetal force at the center of the cylinder, likely only the slightest amount, although that depended on the base's rate of rotation. He could feel the slightest tug almost immediately as what had seemed a bulkhead became a deck. Then a section of the new “deck” opened.

Tavoian moved forward and let himself drop into the transition room, which opened onto a shaft heading outward toward the rim of the base.

“There are belt harnesses on the shaft railing. Please use one of them, sir.”

Tavoian understood. While he doubted that the base/station was rotating fast enough to cause him any physical damage if he slipped and was thrown outward to the end of the shaft, it was better not to take unnecessary chances—or to break the rules of a base that he hadn't even known existed, especially one as large as Donovan Base.

They did not pass or see anyone on the trip down the moving rail to the outermost deck. Tavoian did notice that the bulkheads, overheads, and decks were all a pale blue, far easier on the eyes than the gray of LLOS or ONeill Station. When he reached the base of the shaft, he realized that he stood in the equivalent of about a half gee. Given that, the harnesses did make much more sense. It also told him that the base was intended for longer-term tours.

He walked beside the tech2 along a corridor for almost fifty meters, passing several closed doors—doors, not hatches, although Tavoian saw an open pressure hatch some twenty meters farther along when the tech stopped and opened a door. “This is the colonel's office. I'll take care of your gear.”

“Thank you.”

Tavoian stepped into the office, where a rating sat at a console outside a closed pressure hatch—another oddity, or so it seemed to him.

The rating looked up as Tavoian approached. “Captain Tavoian?” Her voice was pleasant, but even.

“Reporting.”

The spacer3 pointed to the biometric ID attached to the wall. “If you would, sir.”

That wasn't a request, either, and Tavoian had no doubt that if the biometrics didn't match, he'd be immobilized before he could move. He still felt nervous when he stepped up to the eye reader and placed both hands in the gauntlets.

“Thank you, sir. The colonel will see you in a moment.”

There were no chairs, suggesting that there was little loitering in the outer office … or that the colonel wanted to make it uncomfortable, although that was likely to take longer in what amounted to a half gee. Tavoian didn't have to wait long, less than five minutes before the hatch opened.

“You can go in, Captain.”

“Thank you.” Tavoian nodded politely and eased around the console and through the pressure hatch that closed immediately behind him. The colonel's inner office held a console and two chairs … as well as one entire bulkhead that was jet-black—most likely a blanked-out dimensional display that could focus on a single image or scores of individual displays, probably from all over Donovan Base.
And from who knows where else.

The officer who stood by the console chair had short-cut but limp sandy hair shot with gray and a round face that might have been cherubic if there had been a gram of fat in it. His eyes were an innocent-appearing blue.

“You can call me Colonel Anson, or Colonel. Don't bother searching for me under that name. You won't find anything.” The colonel's voice was a pleasant baritone. He gestured to the empty chair, then seated himself. “Have you ever heard of Donovan Base before, Captain?”

“No, sir.”

“Even a suggestion of it?”

“No, sir.” And that was true.

“Would you care to speculate on why it exists?”

“It's obviously for a military purpose, and one that DOEA doesn't want known. I can't think of any other reason. Beyond that, I'd rather not speculate.”