Dragonstar Destiny (3 page)

“Soon after that, we observed an aura, a kind of force-field, begin to form around the exterior of the
Dragonstar.
Unable to identify the nature of the field, but fearing for the safety of our people on board, we sent several rescue ships out to forcibly board and enter the vessel. And, as you know, they were disintegrated by flare-like extensions from the field. And then it was not long after that before the on-board engines of the
Dragonstar
ignited.

“The ship accelerated away from the Lagrange Point at a constantly. increasing velocity, leaving the ecliptic plane of the solar system. We continued to track the vessel as it accelerated until it achieved a speed of more than three hundred kilometers per second. After that, there was a brilliant flash of light, and then nothing ...”

Gregor paused, and the audience took their cue, exploding into a shattering wave of questions and comments. He had already carried the summation past the point of what most of them already knew. That last bit about the flash of light and then nothing had not yet been released. Looking out at them, Gregor could see hands waving frantically like a sea of wheat in a strong breeze.

“Please, everyone!” he boomed through the P.A. “We must do this in a more orderly fashion!”

The frantic atmosphere seemed to calm a bit, then .surged again: Gregor pounded on the podium console, and the pickups resonated the sound through the hall like thunder. Things started to calm down in a hurry as he grabbed their attention.”

“Yes,” he said, pointing to a woman in the second row, who had held her hand up with dignity and an absence of body English. Gregor hoped that others would take the cue.

The woman stood up. “Michele Jordan, NBC. When you say ‘and then nothing,’ what exactly do you mean? Did the
Dragonstar
explode?”

“I am afraid I cannot answer that question. Visually the ship appeared to simply vanish in a flash of rainbow-colored light. It
looked
like an explosion, because of the brilliant flash, but our instruments do not confirm this.”

A man in the middle tier raised his hand and Gregor nodded at him. The rest of the assemblage remained orderly and respectful. This was more like it, thought Gregor.

“Gary Leventhal, CNN. What do you mean by that last line? What
do
your instruments confirm, if anything?”

“Well, an explosion has a particular ‘signature,’ if you will, which is well identified in terms of electromagnetic patterns. The final images of the
Dragonstar
do not fit this pattern. In fact, if anything, our scientists feel that we have witnessed
implosion.”

A distinguished-looking gentleman with silvery grey hair raised his hand and was acknowledged. “Al Tyler, BBC. What the bloody hell does
that
mean? Did the
Dragonstar
collapse
in
upon itself?”

“We do not think so,” said Gregor. “From the initial analysis of our data, it appears that the
space
surrounding the vessel did the collapsing. Let me explain. You see, what we are talking about is all highly theoretical, but the observable evidence suggests that the
Dragonstar
entered that
region of reality which has been referred to by various names—hyperspace, null-space, tau-space, or whatever. In other words, the vessel made the jump into the realm of faster-than-light travel, and the brilliant flash we saw was the impact of normal space rushing in to occupy the ... uh ... ‘gap,’ shall we say, left by the starship when it jumped.”

Countless hands shot up now, and Gregor pointed to one at random. “Cho Su, Chinese Sat-Net. How can this be so? Did not all earlier studies conclude that the engines of the
Dragonstar
were inoperable?”

“Yes, that is true,” said Gregor. “But I think it is safe to say that such findings reached the
wrong
conclusion.”

A burst of tension-breaking laughter filled the room. Gregor waited till it subsided before speaking again.

“Prior to the sudden on-board activity, our technical people had no indication that the engines could be fired. Having never seen a star-drive, our scientists did not know what to look for. In fact, we still have no conclusive proof that an FTL jump was accomplished. The
Dragonstar
may have been indeed destroyed in some kind of strange implosion. Please be warned that I am speaking hypothetically about all of this ... we simply
do not know
what actually happened.”

Gregor pointed to a familiar face in the first row.

“Wallace Michaels, ABC. If the ship
did,
as you suggest, enter hyperspace, do we have any means of tracking it or communicating with it?”

“None whatsoever ...”

“Do we have any idea where it was headed?”

Gregor smiled. “Well, it was pointed toward the center of our galaxy, but this could be meaningless when applied to the ‘Wu Li physics’ of FTL theory. In hyperspace, direction, as we currently understand it, may have little or no meaning.”

Buoyed by the vodka, Gregor Kolenkhov fielded their questions with a boundless energy and solid professionalism. The group asked some very intelligent questions in addition to the inevitable silly ones. And they kept it up for almost another two hours. When it was over he felt like an old dishrag squeezed dry. But overall, he believed that he had not alienated the media and had not given them any reason to believe that IASA was holding back any information. Granted, he had painted the picture a bit more cheerfully than his staff felt the situation indicated, but Gregor saw nothing wrong in giving the public the impression that there was probably more than a fifty-fifty chance that the occupants of the
Dragonstar
were still alive.

“Good show, Gregor,” said Rheinhardt as they left the assembly hall and walked quickly back to the Joint Chiefs conference room.

“I thank you. Although I must give credit where credit is due!” he said, holding up the empty flask and winking at his young aide, Fleisher. “As much as I love those wonderful California wines, they do not give a man the fortitude of a good slam of vodka!”

Rheinhardt laughed and slapped his shoulder. Marcia Bertholde’s expression remained grim. Gregor had always thought the woman was a pain in the ass. A real anal-retentive personality. Ever since this business with the
Dragonstar
began, at the first appearance of each new complication, Marcia Bertholde played her cards closer and closer to her vest. She would only speak to voice alarm, to push an ultraconservative action, or to express displeasure at any attempt to break the mounting tension. Gregor found her to be about as warm as your average lizard.

Aide Fleisher opened the door to the conference room and everyone entered. There were two lab-coated people already seated at the table. The man was lean and good-looking in an Ivy League sort of way. His face was smooth and unlined, and only his penetrating eyes belied his age of around forty. The woman had the body of an athlete, lithe and graceful. Her dirty-blond hair had been tied back in a pony tail. It was a purely functional style, but it made her look young and coltish to Gregor.

He recognized both of them. Dr. Bill Baker was Chief Engineer at Copernicus Base and Victoria Wendt was a physicist who had been serving as liaison for Dr. Takamura, who was now among the missing on board the departed
Dragonstar.
Baker and Wendt stood up as the Joint Chiefs entered, and Gregor waved them back into their seats.

“Good afternoon, Doctors,” he said. “More bad news, no doubt ...?”

Baker shrugged, tugged at the cuff of his white coat. “That depends on whether we’re right or not,” he said in a deep sonorous voice.

“I’ve been collecting the data-trans from the
Dragonstar
for Dr. Takamura since the beginning,” said Dr. Wendt. “Along with the last few reports concerning the radiation levels, his initial work had been on the structural integrity of the vessel and the radical engineering design employed in the alien ship’s design.”

Gregor nodded, looked to his colleagues, and then gestured for the scientists to continue.

“For the last month or so, Vickie’s people have been running a lot of ‘what if’ games with the data we’ve been getting,” said Dr. Baker. “Lots of standard, Hudson Institute stuff ... and we came up with one model which might bear some attention.”

“Go on,” said Rheinhardt.

Victoria Wendt produced a decahedron crystal from the pocket of her lab coat and carefully inserted it into the holographic projector sitting in the center of the table. “Here, let me show you,” she said as she flipped on the machine.

The room darkened and a 3-D image of the interior of the alien control-section of the
Dragonstar
appeared to float over the conference table.

“This is a typical bulkhead running Iongitudinally along the outer hull,” said Wendt. “Note the cross-hatching patterns which seem to be a central alien engineering signature. At any rate, the stress tests we performed on the hull sections indicate that the immense age of the metals and bonds used in the ship has severely limited its intended functionality.”

“In plain language, what are you saying?” asked Bertholde.

Dr. Baker cleared his throat. “The
Dragonstar
is not as structurally sound, not as
strong,
as it originally had been. As with all things, time has taken its toll.”

“Of course,” said “Dr. Wendt. “This routine test was not thought to be significant or important because the vessel was in a permanent orbit, and there were no plans to subject it to the undue stress of extended space flight.”

“What are you trying to tell us?” asked Gregor, although he suspected that he already understood.

“If what we witnessed was indeed a jump into hyperspace,” said Dr. Baker, “then the
Dragonstar
might not be strong enough to withstand the kind of tidal forces we expect to be present in a jump to FTL speed.”

“Not strong enough?” asked Gregor. “What do you mean? What would happen?”

Baker shrugged again. “This is all theoretical, you understand ... but the forces implied in such a maneuver could possibly crush the hull of the
Dragonstar
like an egg.”

THEIR NAMES
were normal enough.

Alexandra Marshall.

Timothy Linden.

Two solid American citizens, who had excelled in their respective colleges—UCLA and Yale—they joined the IASA in scientific capacities, and excelled, serving their country Earthside and in space. They seemed absolute studies in American physical and mental values: she of the blond hair and blue eyes, with a computer-sharp mind that danced amid the tricky planes of astrophysics, he of the brown hair and dark brown eyes, with an IQ and test scores off the map, and a love of baseball, with a degree in xenobiology.

It was natural that the IASA should assign them to duties aboard the vessel known officially as
Artifact One
. They seemed tailor-made for such duties, and in fact their work had been absolutely sterling aboard the already fabled
Dragonstar,
that 200-million-year-old alien vessel, complete with its bizarre complement of a Mesozoic interior and array of dinosaurs. The IASA was modern enough not to mind that they seemed to have a sexual and emotional relationship: this seemed natural. These were good-looking, healthy adults, with adult needs and attractions. Certainly their relationship did not seem to interfere with their work. Perhaps it even helped it. What was the harm?

However, if all had continued as planned, their work would indeed have harmed the IASA.

For they were sleeper agents of the Third World Confederation, studying the likelihood of another hijacking, a takeover of the
Dragonstar.

But, the
Dragonstar
had other ideas, apparently. It had taken off—into hyperspace—long before it could be taken over.

It had taken off with the fresh-scrubbed “American” sleepers Marshall and Linden aboard, leaving them with no way to contact their superiors.

Still, they had their orders, and they had original minds and could easily improvise. Which was just what they were doing as they drove out from their base camp, dispatched by Dr. Robert Jakes himself to investigate a source of intermittent radiation that had been popping up on the base screens.

“It is fortunate,” said Marshall, her long blond hair blowing, “that we were able to dissuade them from sticking another guy aboard.”

“Fortunate I could let them talk me into letting me take you along,” said Timothy Linden as he downshifted the omni terrain vehicle to deal with a steeper grade. “Glad you’ve got that good marksman record.”

“Well, if there was still the problem with the ‘natives,’ I think they’d have wanted another gun along.” The “natives” that Alexandra was referring to were the dinosaurs. Somehow they had been changing lately, often with murderous results. The scientists aboard conjectured that they were affected by the radiation the
Dragonstar
was giving off in certain places after the arrival of human beings. But in the last few weeks the reports of aberrant behavior in the beasts had lowered. Certainly the predators were just as nasty as ever—but the others seemed to have settled down after the abrupt insertion of the
Dragonstar
into hyperspace—even if the radiation had not.

“With my smooth tongue? Never.” Linden turned the vehicle slightly to avoid a ginkgo tree that had grown apart from the forest. “We have to talk, Alexandra,” he said. “I have been having serious doubts.”

“Yes, I know what you mean,” she said, peering about at this primeval world. ”The training certainly never prepared us for anything like this. Loyalties to factions on Earth seem to fade, so many light-years away, with dim likelihood of returning.”

“And yet, we must remain faithful, to our religion and to our calling. The opportunities are not present now, but if they should arise again ... We must pounce.”

“Yes, that is quite correct.” She shook her head dismally. “Should we ever return to our solar system, that is.”

“Our mission keeps us alive, I think,” said Timothy Linden. “And our love ... We are not as the others ...”

“I’m not sure about that, Timothy. We are, after all, in the same boat together ... so to speak.” She smiled and stroked his shoulder. “A threat to them is a threat to us ... like this radiation we are investigating.”

“I don’t think it’s a threat, but it is well that we are checking into it. Dr. Jakes believes that these radiation outbursts could be the key to understanding what makes the
Dragonstar
tick. We must learn as much as we can ... for our survival, and most important, for our mission.”

They had both been planted into college with fake backgrounds. Both had been born in the United States and grew into the culture and language ... But both had parents who were fanatical Muslims. During pilgrimages to Mecca, the Jiha—the state-of-the-art-terrorist organization run by the TWC—had seen their potential and convinced their parents that their formative years should be spent in the Mideast, receiving vital training and indoctrination. It was all much in the tradition that the notorious KGB had established in the twentieth century. The result almost foolproof sleeper agents, with airtight backgrounds. They had not been activated until the business with the
Dragonstar.
And their masters could never have known what was going to happen with that vessel they so desired. Of course, despite the failure of the expert terrorist Marcus Jashad to secure the alien ship—a failure he paid for with his life—doubtless the TWC were having the last laugh now. For it was they, not the IASA, who would have been trapped aboard the ship when it clamped up tight and dived like some space whale into hyperspace. And the TWC knew, after all, that if there was any hope that anything could be done on their behalf, then their agents Alexandra Marshall and Timothy Linden could be counted on to act in their interests.

The day was hazy with tropical humidity, even though Linden kept the open OTV away from the jungle areas. He knew that he could be stuck in this hell for a very long time—and he knew that he would never get totally used to the oppressive heat, pulsing down from the Illuminator rod ... the shaft that bisected the interior of the
Dragonstar
and created an Earth-like day/night cycle, switching on at “dawn” and dimming at “dusk.” Even now, with the breeze created by the OTV’s speed, he sweated. It was not at all like this in the desert. The heat there was dry and omnipotent, like the presence of Allah, and the body adjusted to it. No, here was a great deal like hell.

“That juncture of hills up there,” said Alexandra while she consulted the. screens on the dashboard in front of her. “The overlay map is picking up the type of radiation we’ve been reading. From behind those rocks, Tim.”

“Excellent,” said her partner, adjusting the direction of the OTV accordingly. “I must admit, this does intrigue me. The spectrum readings on this radiation have been quite interesting.”

“Do you think that this is the sort of radiation that’s been escaping and affecting the beasts?” asked Alexandra,

“That’s what Jakes thinks. See any strange-looking creatures about, my love?”

“Absolutely nothing,” she said, after a survey of the area with her field glasses. “Which
is
odd.”

“Could be smart—could be avoiding this radiation. Maybe we’d better get the life-support suits.”

“I don’t see anything on the screens that would warrant that,” said Alexandra. “Nothing the suits would keep out, anyway,”

“Oh, that’s nice to know!”

“Hey, cheer up. Those things can be hot!”

“So, my dear, can be radiation!” They were approaching the rocks. “Looks to me like the terrain up there is going to be too rough for the OTV.”

“Which means we walk?”

“Which means we walk.”

He stopped the vehicle and got out his rifle. He wore a portable analyzer, which by now was going crazy with blinking arrows and numbers.

“I kinda think that old Jakes is going to like what this thing is recording,” she said.

“Should I radio back and tell him to get out here?” Linden asked, checking his weapons.

She laughed. “Oh no. There may be things we find that we may want to keep to ourselves.”

“Funny, you don’t look like an A-rab spy,” said Linden, affecting a southern twang.

“Funny, you don’t, either,” responded Marshall. “And you TWC people ain’t supposed to have a sense of humor, either!”

Alexandra Linden shrugged. “Allah chuckles from time to time, I suppose.”

“If Allah truly exists, I suppose indeed he does.”

“Oh, come off those stupid doubts of yours!” she said, suddenly harsh. “You really can’t afford them, Timothy,”

”I don’t know. I suppose it was a perverse luxury back a couple of years ago ... enjoying the luxury and life-style of the West, while nurturing a big secret in your heart. But after getting called up—” He gestured expansively at his surroundings. “And certainly after all this—one begins to wonder.”

“Too true. But there are too many oaths, too many duties and obligations ... too much inside us that is of the Old Lands to allow doubts to have any effect. Who is to say, my Hasan”—which was her secret name for him— “we may have truly been swallowed by a djinn, and we walk in some desert mirage ... This perhaps is some test of our faith!”

Linden looked at her skeptically. “Stow it, daughter of the desert. We do what we do because we’ve been trained to. I don’t need to hear the damned theology.”

She shrugged, her face all business again. “All right. Now, I think that if we take that pathway up there, we can get to the source of these readings.”

“Okay. I’ll go first.”

They threaded through a couple boulders, then found the narrow stony pathway that Marshall had indicated.

“I figure only about fifty meters,” she said, looking up from her board.

“Yeah, but with this kind of zigzag path, it will take a little while.”

Which it did.

Nor was it truly a pathway. They found themselves often having to climb and crawl over considerable obstacles, from rocks to boulders.

“I hope that Jakes is damned grateful,” said Linden, sweat dripping down his face. “This is work!”

“And let’s hope the TWC is grateful!”

“l didn’t know they
got
grateful.”

“If we ever get back, we’ll get our reward, I’m sure.”

“I’ll just settle for staying alive right now, thank you.”

Finally the pathway opened up into a large clearing, perhaps forty meters in diameter. Marshall’s readings indicated that the radiation emanated from the other side. But what lay between them and it was of much more obvious interest.

It seemed, at first sight, to be an allosaurus, stretched out on its side. It appeared also to be dead. But no scavengers were present, feasting on its flesh ... and upon further inspection, it proved to be still breathing, its thick sides rising and falling regularly .

“Be careful,” said Linden, holding up a warning hand after clicking off the safety of his rifle. “What do you make of it? Think this radiation has affected it?”

“Nothing indicates the radiation is harmful ...”

“Doesn’t have to be harmful to affect something ... Damn! Do you see that?”

The allosaurus spasmed a little, twitching as it rolled over, revealing its true nature.

It was an allosaurus, all right ... both Marshall and Linden had seen them before.

But it was an allosaurus with two heads.

Two heads, to say nothing of the extra limb that grew from its side, and the rudimentary tail that sprouted midway from its original tail.

“Some kind of freak?” wondered Linden.

“I don’t know,” said Marshall. “But whatever it is, I’m getting a picture of it.” She pulled out her special Leica for a shot. “Mikaela Lindstrom will certainly want to see this!” The device clicked twice. Alexandra Marshall adjusted it, and then moved closer to get better shots of the creature’s extreme abnormalities.

“Alexandra, you don’t have to get too close.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll be careful. Fascinating, isn’t it? Like something in a horror movie!”

“This whole month has been like something in a horror movie,” said Linden. “Okay, that’s close enough. We’re going to have to skirt the thing to check out the radiation ... I don’t like it being here. Maybe we can just get the necessary readings—”

The thing moved with lightning speed.

In less than a second, it had thrashed its way onto its feet. The heads moved in amazing synchrony, swiveling around, both sets of eyes leveling fiercely upon the exploration team. Those eyes were pure red, pupilless, seeming to flare like a double set of glimpses into hell.

“Get back, Alex!” Linden cried as he jerked his rifle up to eye level, aiming,

But his companion seemed frozen in her tracks.

Linden pumped a round into the beast’s chest. Flesh and blood spurted, but it only seemed to madden the monster. It lunged forward, straight for Alexandra.