Torchship (25 page)

“I’m glad you did, Captain. Otherwise we’d still be on
Sukhoi trying to find a way to keep another Passover Seder interesting.”

“Don’t thank me until after you land. But I thank you
gentlemen for joining us for a most memorable dinner.”

***

The next dinner with passengers was on Sunday. The ship was
still boosting up to coast speed in the Samnia system. The meal was free of
rude outbursts until after the four white-robed members of the Crystalline
Order bowed and left.

“Let me see if I have this straight,” said Billy. “Their plan
is to get uploaded, have the AIs read their grand idea, and then because the
idea is so obviously perfect the AIs put all their resources into totally
remaking the galaxy to comply with it.”

“Yes,” said Guo.

“That’s . . . I don’t have words for how nuts that is.”

“Infinitely?” offered Mitchie.

“Yeah, that’s good.”

“We’re not their pastors or therapists,” said Captain
Schwartzenberger. “Just transportation. Their money’s good so we’re hauling
them. That’s it.”

“I should have taken bridge watch.”

“And missed meeting three girls?” teased Mitchie.

“Listening to them recite their doctrine in unison is not ‘meeting,’”
said Billy.

Journey Day 46. Samnia System. Acceleration: 10 m/s
²

Captain Schwartzenberger had come early for shift change.
This was normal. He liked to review the log, take a position sighting, and
otherwise assure himself that no unreported disasters had happened while he was
off-watch. This shift called for some extra sightings. They were about to cease
thrusting to conserve fuel. The ballistic trajectory would take them through
(well, around) the system to the gate. Any error would be more expensive to
correct the closer they were to the gate.

After four days they’d learned the system well enough to
take sextant sights without needing to use the telescope to identify their
targets. Sighting on two planets and the star, with half a page of
calculations, gave them an exact location. Checking a third planet told them
how big their measurement errors were. Schwartzenberger picked a fourth and measured
its angles to all the others. Mitchie started to wonder if they’d have enough
paper for the journey. He tore off a sheet of equations and handed it to her. “Check
me.”

She went through the rows of figures. She’d caught him in a
few mistakes in her time on board. One may have been accidental. She was
certain the rest were just to see if she was paying attention. But being in
non-human space had cured the captain of those games. “I check you, sir.”

“We’re in the groove, then.” He secured the sextant in its
case. Schwartzenberger stood and gazed out at the stars, trying to relax in
their beauty. His eye drifted back to Samnia. Their course had been driven by
his desire to stay at least five million klicks from the former human colony.

The blue-white planet suddenly changed to a brighter shade
of blue. Schwartzenberger grabbed the telescope. A perfect blue circle, darker
at the edges, with a black dot in the center. “It’s coming straight at us,” he
said.

“What is, sir?” asked Mitchie.

“A ship. From Samnia. High thrust.”

She activated the radar. “There it is.”

“Log the reading. Then get us away from Samnia.”

“Aye-aye.” PA switch. “All hands, brace for maneuver. Grab
something now!” She counted off five seconds then fired the thrusters to point
the ship directly away from the planet. Schwartzenberger didn’t bother with his
couch, just bracing himself with a hand on the comm console.

The AI ship was now hidden behind their exhaust. The captain
lifted his mike and switched on the PA. “All hands, this is the captain
speaking. We’ve spotted another torchship in this system. We’re going to plot
its course. If it’s coming toward us we’ll maneuver to evade it. We’ll need to
maneuver at short notice. Everyone please secure themselves in their bunks
until further notice. I’ll make further announcements as there’s news.” Then he
strapped himself in.

At the ten minute mark the captain said, “Let’s take a peek.”

Mitchie pivoted the ship to let them look around the plume
at Samnia. They studied the radar. “Heading straight for us,” she said. She
pulled her acceleration sliderule out of its holster. “If it was stationary the
first time we ranged it, it’s accelerating at about fifty gravs. So the real
accel is closer to forty.”

“Which is more than our passengers can handle. Take us up to
thirty and turn away from it. We’ve got a head start, let’s use it.”

“Aye-aye.” They sank deeper into their cushions as the
thrust built up.

Schwartzenberger noted the time and forced himself to wait a
whole hour before taking another look at their pursuer. Mitchie worked her
sliderule and announced, “About forty-three gravs. On average. Don’t know if
they’re taking any cool-down breaks.”

“I doubt they’ll need to.”

“Sir, permission to go to ten gravs for a minute? I want to
check something.”

“Granted.”

When the weight let up Mitchie grabbed the telescope and a
reference book. A look at the AI vessel and the system primary sent her to a
lookup table of stellar magnitudes, then another in the same book. “The
brightness of its plume gives us a rough thrust estimate. If their drive is as
efficient as ours then that ship is about ten times our mass.”

“So whatever they want with us, they want it bad. Resume
course and full thrust.”

“Aye-aye.”

Schwartzenberger switched to the converter room intercom. “Guo,
if we’re still being chased an hour from now we’ll try a discourager on it.”

“Will do, sir.”

“Mitchie, get him angles for Samnia.”

“On it.” That gave his subordinates something useful to
focus on. Schwartzenberger spent the next hour brooding. The peek at the
pursuer was a relief, even knowing the ship was still coming at them.

“Do it,” he ordered.

Mitchie cut thrust to ten gravs. Guo and Alexi scrambled
from the converter room to the hold. The mechanic went to the target drone
programmer and tapped in the direction to Samnia in the ship’s current
reference frame. It spit out a card which he inserted in the drone’s “brain.”
The inertial tracking unit booted up. Alexi handled getting the drone into the
airlock while Guo suited up.

Fitting himself into the airlock with the drone was a tight
squeeze. When the door could finally be closed he transmitted, “Cut thrust.”
When the ship was in free fall he pushed the drone out. Careful to keep from
putting any spin on it he pressed the start button and shoved it away from the
ship hard. Then it was just a matter of getting back in the airlock and closing
the door before the delay ran out.

He had fifteen seconds to spare. As Guo opened the inner
door the drone’s torch exhaust slapped the hull like a crack of thunder. It was
off to Samnia—and, not incidentally, their pursuer—at a hundred gravs.
Fives
Full
went back to ten gravs without any announcement.

Mitchie had been watching their enemy with the port camera.
It was a perfect bright circle. The drone obscured the screen for several
minutes before it was far enough away to see around. The ship’s plume had
changed to a streak, round on one end. The perfect image of a torchship
thrusting perpendicular to the observer.

She laughed out loud. “They bought it! They’re running.”

“For now,” said Schwartzenberger. “Until it notices our
missile isn’t reacting to their maneuvers.”

“But that buys us some time.”

“That it does.”

The intercom sounded. “Converter room strapped in,” said
Guo.

“Roger, converter room,” said Mitchie as she sent the ship
back to fleeing.

The next few hourly peeks showed the other ship evading,
then ignoring, and finally closing with and destroying the drone. “Just as
well,” said the captain. “We shouldn’t make craters in worlds unless we know
exactly what we’re blowing up.” The crew spent some time on the intercom
discussing the option of sending a dozen drones to the planet on divergent
courses. Bing ended it by pointing out that whatever the ship’s current motive
for chasing them was, “wipe out the genocidal maniacs” was not an improvement.

At twelve hours they spent fifteen minutes at ten gravs to
let everyone have a potty break. Bing and Billy volunteered for shift changes.
The control freaks on duty declined.

The prolonged high acceleration wore on Mitchie. Her neck ached.
Her arms were exhausted. The most trivial tasks felt like climbing a cliff. She
didn’t complain. It had to be worse for the others.

Guo was the first to complain. Technically he spoke for the
equipment. “Sir, it’s getting pretty hot in here. Do you think we might be able
to coast for a bit?”

“Not an option,” said the captain into the intercom. “It’s
still closing. How bad is it down there?”

“I sent Alexi to his quarters. Converter efficiency is down
18%. I have gauges too warped for me to get an accurate reading. And the
mechanic’s out of spec too.” Mitchie chuckled at Guo’s phrasing. Still, he had
to be in bad shape if he admitted to it.

“I see. You’ll have to soak it.”

“Sir, I can’t guarantee we won’t lose something critical if
I do that.”

“Not asking you to, Mr. Kwan. It’s just the least bad
option.”

“Okay. I’ll need some ten grav time to prep.”

“Right.” At the captain’s nod Mitchie cut thrust.

Guo started securing everything that could be water damaged.
Manuals, tools, sliderules all came out of their handy niches by the
acceleration couch and into vacuum-tight cabinets. Once the fragile items were
secure he donned his pressure suit. With his air supply safe he sealed all the
hatches and ventilation ducts.

The converter room was walled with pipes connecting the
water tanks with each other and the converter. Inspection ports, relief valves,
drain spigots—plenty of options for dumping water on the floor. Guo started
with inspection valves, spraying water up to the ceiling. If he could cool the
instruments gently they might get through this without fractures. He started a
drain valve streaming onto the floor. Steam poured off the converter. An
ammeter’s cover shattered.

Mitchie’s voice sounded on his helmet radio. “How are you
doing down there?”

“Switching from baked to boiled. There’s a few spots on the
floor bubbling. The converter’s cooling down though.”

“How’s your temp?”

He glanced at the gauge by his chin. “A bit high. I’d better
vent the room.” One pipe went to vacuum. He waded over and twisted the valve
open—one hand on the valve, the other on the safety release. Steam blew past
him into it. A hammer disabled the safety. He tied on two ropes to handle
opening and closing it, using a nearby pipe as a pulley. Another rope toggled a
drain valve by his couch.

“I’ll be ready for full thrust again in a moment,” he
reported. The ropes were tied to the acceleration couch. Guo sloshed around
turning off the other valves. The vent had some ice forming on it from vacuum
freezing. He knocked the crystals off then climbed into the couch. “Ready for
boost.” His weight tripled.

The captain came on the radio. “Eleven minutes. Good work,
Mr. Kwan.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“We’re going to stay at this accel for a while.”

“Yes, sir.”

On the bridge they could see when Guo vented. Puffs of steam
were visible at the edge of the dome.

Mitchie had finally tired enough to sleep at thirty gravs.
It wasn’t a restful nap, just a break from feeling her body squeezed flat. The
captain woke her up for the next peek at the pursuer.

The bogey was noticeably brighter. “Crap,” said the captain.
“We’ll have to double thrust. That’ll kill some of the passengers. What’s its
accel up to?”

Mitchie worked her sliderule, plugging in the latest range
number from the radar. “It’s . . . this doesn’t make sense. Its overtake is
down. Should be closer if it had kept on its old boost.”

Schwartzenberger looked at the camera image again. “Jesus,
Mary, and Joseph. It’s flipped. Gave up on trying to catch us.” It was a solid
blue circle, no dot in the middle.

Mitchie calculated an answer that fit all the data. “They
turned over four hours ago and kept the same accel.”

The captain crossed himself. “Straighten her out. We’ll
boost another three hours then peek again. If they’re still decelerating we’ll
go ballistic then.”

“Aye-aye.” Mitchie paused. “Do you think they just hit their
limit?”

“Maybe. Or all that steam venting makes them think we’d blow
up before they could board us. You take the watch, I’m going to nap. Don’t tell
anyone until we confirm it next peek.”

“Aye, sir.”

Unlike his supposed naps earlier, the captain did fall
asleep this time. Or so Mitchie inferred from his snores. She decided to let
him sleep until she’d confirmed the enemy ship’s new trajectory, but he woke as
the ship pivoted. One pulse from the radar proved it was on the course she’d
calculated for it. “It’s been thrusting away from us the whole time, sir.”

“Good. Cut thrust.” The ship went into free fall.
Schwartzenberger flipped on the PA. “All hands. The pursuing ship has turned
back. We’re going to take at least a twelve hour rest before resuming our
original course. Resume normal cruise activities. Captain out.” Flipping to the
crew intercom. “Mr. Kwan, shut down the converter. First Mate, take bridge
watch and deploy the radiators. Billy and Alexi, suit up and get the converter
room dried out. Everyone else, get ten hours of sleep.”

“Done, sir,” said Guo.

Journey Day 48. Samnia System. Acceleration: 0 m/s
²

Mitchie drew a circle around the coordinates with a
flourish. Her position sighting matched the acceleration log as accurately as
they could measure. She turned to plotting out a new course to the gate.
Staying at least a hundred million klicks from any world with radio activity
wasn’t going to be hard at this point. They were headed out of the system at
over a percent of lightspeed. By the time they worked off that velocity they’d
be well clear of everything. The dogleg to get on-vector for the gate would be
expensive. She set a start time two hours in the future and got to work.