Peggy Sue (The T'aafhal Inheritance) (41 page)
“Whatever it is, it isn’t very large—I see no planetary disk at the center of the debris field.” Both JT and Elena were in total astronomy geek mode over the strange orbital configuration in front of them. Elena offered a cautious hypothesis. “It could be some form of degenerate matter object, small in diameter but incredibly dense.”
“Dr. Piscopia’s conjecture is plausible; A small body of degenerate matter could have sufficient mass; If the battle occurred near by, part of the wreckage could have collected around such an object.”
“An interesting possibility, Ambassador,” JT responded. “But I thought that the formation of degenerate matter required a stellar object with a mass over the Chandrasekhar limit?”
“Under natural conditions you are correct, but there are other ways to induce such a collapse; The battle may have been fought millions of your years ago, with weapons no longer understood; Further investigation may prove enlightening.”
“Are you saying there are ways to collapse whole planets?” Gretchen asked. The possibility of a weapon that could turn a world into a small ball of degenerate matter was a horrifying thought.
“I agree with the Ambassador, we need a closer look at the debris field. Mr. Taylor, I want a course computed to the far side of that collection of wreckage—put the bulk of the debris between us and the alter-space transfer point from Beta Hydri.” Jack did not wish to be surprised by another plasma volley if their unknown pursuers managed to follow them to Sirius. “Make our path a sequence of random segments, like we are tacking into a capricious cosmic wind. Maintain none long enough for a near light speed strike from the transfer point to intercept us without warning.”
“Aye aye, Captain. Course plotted and sent to the helm.”
“Mr. Vincent, take us to the far side of those wrecks.”
“Aye aye, Sir. Making way for the Dog Star graveyard.”
King Lewnhallooshna’s Flagship, Beta Hydri
The King’s fleet was now under its third commodore and repositioning to follow the fleeing alien. On the orders of the monarch, the previous commodore, Maarshennalloo, had sped directly to the intercept point, thus arriving on a totally unsuitable vector for entering alter-space using the transfer point the fleeing aliens must have taken.
The accelerated trip had taken a day and a half and, when the fleet passed through the tenuous cloud of matter that marked the plasma torpedoes’ detonation area, no trace of the alien ship was found. No debris, no telltale vaporized elements, nothing. The failure of their quick attack, carried out brilliantly by Maarshennalloo’s predecessor, naturally threw the King into a royal rage.
In what was quickly becoming a pattern, King Lewnhallooshna killed his commodore son when Maarshennalloo tried to explain that they would now have to reposition the fleet to make a proper approach to the alter-space transfer point. This was the same bit of news that cost the previous commodore his life.
The repositioning would take another two days. The new commodore, Bonnahaamshna, fervently hoped that they would successfully engage the warm life miscreants after the alter-space transit. Otherwise, another one of his siblings would undoubtedly get the chance to become commodore.
Bridge, Peggy Sue, Spaceship Graveyard
It took the better part of two days for the Peggy Sue to arrive at the far side of the spaceship graveyard, her path like a mote of dust knocked about in Brownian motion. As the Earth vessel drew near the drifting mass of cosmic detritus, it became even more evident that the derelicts were circling a common point and that each was in a stable orbit intersecting no other. The drifting hulks bore mute but eloquent testimony to the scale of the conflict that took place here long ago—millions of years before the first Homo sapiens trod the dusty plains of Earth.
Collisions had taken place in the past, however, with several large chunks of debris unmistakably the merger of two or more spacecraft. Whether the collisions took place during the hypothetical battle or later, during the aggregation of the wreckage, remained unknown. “Given the number of derelicts here, and the number of ships that must have fallen into the star or been gravitationally ejected from the system, this must have been one hell of a battle,” JT remarked, while scanning the wreckage more closely with the ship’s optical instruments.
“Indeed, Mr. Taylor,” the Captain replied. “Any sign of activity?”
“No, Sir. No electromagnetic emissions other than from the star and interstellar background noise. Infrared shows the wreckage to be fairly cold, in line with the amount of irradiation from Sirius itself.”
“Captain, there are certain signal patterns employed by search and rescue vessels; It is possible that some ships contain survivors in suspended animation; A single pulse might elicit a response from any surviving mechanisms.”
“It might also draw fire from any ship just playing dead, Ambassador,” Jack said. “I will keep the suggestion in mind however.”
“Prudence may be the best course; We recognize ship types from both warm and cold species; To our knowledge, the last such clash between the forces of Light and Darkness took place nearly four million of your years ago.”
“Are you suggesting that some of these ships may still be active, may even contain survivors, after four million years?” Lcdr. Curtis asked. “That would be more than incredible.”
“Some species were excellent builders; There are ships from at least nine species among the wreckage; Members of our own species can live that long without artificial extension.”
* * * * *
Deep in the bowels of one of the wrecked ships an intelligence stirred. An artificial intelligence, whose mind inhabited a fabric of quantum entangled particles and holographic memories. A low power proximity sensor had detected an energy source, possibly a working ship.
Several picoseconds were spent waiting, while the AI expended some of the ship’s precious remaining energy to power up a more capable sensor array. Then a flood of readings swept away all doubt—it was a ship, primitive but functional, and the drive signature was familiar. The sensor array was powered back down to save energy and a weak beacon activated.
It knew that it was taking a chance, but the AI had waited so long for rescue. The ship’s reserve power was almost exhausted and when it was the AI would die. This might be the last, the only chance for survival. The intelligence returned to its lowest power state and waited for fate’s verdict.
* * * * *
Peggy Sue’s computer interrupted the ongoing discussion about the sea of wreckage. “Captain, I am receiving a signal from one of the wrecks.”
“Can you identify the source and nature of the signal?” the Captain demanded. After a moment’s thought he added, “Sound general quarters. Shields to full, Mr. Medina.”
“Not again!” Whispered Bobby to his fellow helmsman. “The last signal we got lured us into an ambush by a bunch of belligerent crickets.”
“Yep, but the time before that we found the Triads,” Billy Ray replied. “We are one and one on contacts. I reckon this will be the tie breaker, pardner.”
As the klaxon called the crew to battle stations, the computer identified the source of the beacon using a holographic overlay on the forward viewport. The object in question was fairly deep within the mass of drifting wreckage. Elena quickly zeroed in on the vessel with one of the onboard telescopes.
“That is the source of the signal, according to the computer,” the Italian astronomer announced as the image came up on the forward viewing screen. “It doesn’t look as bad as some of the other derelicts.”
“Still, I don’t want the Peggy Sue trapped inside that maze of drifting junk if hostiles show up,” Jack said. “Commander Curtis, let’s send a boarding party to investigate. Lt. Bear and half the Marines in shuttle two. Include Mr. Taylor and the SEALs—they have demonstrated skills for sneaking in and out of tight situations.”
“Anyone else from the science section, Sir?” Gretchen asked.
“Not until we know what we are dealing with.”
“Very good, Captain. Mr. Danner, I think that you would be a good choice to pilot the shuttle. Take Jacobs and Hitch as crew.”
Those two have been in almost as many tight spots as the Marines. Besides, this will keep them out of Chief Zackly’s hair for a while.
“Aye aye, Ma’am,” Bobby replied, rising from the pilot’s console.
“Report when ready for departure, Mr. Danner,” Gretchen said as Bobby made his way aft. “We will monitor your progress from the CIC.”
The Derelict, Spaceship Graveyard
With an ease born of skill and long practice, Bobby guided the shuttle through the graveyard of wrecks and then circumnavigated the derelict identified as the source of the signal beacon. Peggy Sue’s computer reported that the beacon was only active long enough to identify the originating ship. It had remained silent since the shuttle was deployed.
The alien ship was huge. If the Peggy Sue was the size of a modern naval destroyer, the alien ship was more on the scale of an aircraft carrier: its mass was easily greater than 80,000 tons. Roughly 300 meters long with a maximum diameter of 60 meters, its hull was not a simple tapered cylinder like the Peggy Sue’s. Several large, bulging sections—like the conformal fuel tanks added to some contemporary jet fighters—deformed the main hull’s clean line, giving the vessel an asymmetric look. Scattered about the hull’s smooth surface were numerous teardrop shaped blisters, looking like the X-Ray laser turrets on the Peggy Sue, only on a much larger and more prolific scale.
The skin of the vessel was silver, with hints of hatches and openings faintly etched into its sides. One of the bulging ancillary sections held a jagged scar, as though something had violently penetrated the hull and then withdrew. Within the dark recesses of the hole, pipes and conduits could be seen, some intact, others rent asunder and dangling in empty space.
Closer examination revealed scorch marks on the otherwise smooth hull. Places where some offensive energy lashed the ship’s skin, causing the hull material to melt and splash away from the point of contact. As large and impressive as the ship was, it had obviously been sorely abused.
“What do you primates think?” Bear asked. “Do we want to try and enter through the gash in her side or search the hull for the outline of an intact opening?”
“It’s hard to tell what we would encounter entering through that hull breach—the interior looks pretty torn up,” JT posited.
“If they did manage to seal the breach they probably didn’t add any new airlocks during the effort,” observed Chief Morgan. SEALs possessed a lot of practical knowledge about ships and ship design, since they were often called on to forcibly enter enemy vessels. Morgan figured that Navy ships and spaceships were fairly similar at a fundamental level—ocean vessels needed to keep water out and spaceships needed to keep air in. “If we did find some intact compartments we would still have to cut or blast our way in, which would decompress the interior spaces.”
“Roger that, Chief,” Bear replied. “Peggy Sue, shuttle. Do Chief Engineer Medina or any of the science staff have comments or suggestions?”
“Shuttle, Peggy Sue. We concur with staying out of the hull breach area and suggest looking for an opening in some of the less damaged areas.”
“Affirmative. We will do a closer reconnaissance of the undamaged portion of the hull.”
* * * * *
Rounding the smoothly curving hull at the front of one of the large flared bulges, the shuttle arrived near the junction of the bulge and the main hull, abaft the bow section of the ship. There in front of the shuttle was a large hatch, its outline faintly etched into the burnished silver of the hull. If it were open the entire shuttle could pass through to the ship’s interior.
“Let’s send some people outside to examine the surface close up,” suggested Chief Morgan.
“Sounds like a plan to me, Chief,” Lt. Bear rumbled. “Got anyone in mind?” Bear’s last remark was accompanied by a toothy grin. All parties in the shuttle’s cargo area were suited up: the Marines in full battle armor, Bear and JT in powered armor but with clear helmets and the SEALs in light armor. The shuttle crew were in standard spacesuits with utility coveralls, though there were suits of battle armor hanging in the rear for them if necessary.
“I think we SEALs ought to take a closer look at that hatch. We aren’t as dexterous as the crew but at least we have some protection.”
“OK, Chief. You, Kowalski and Jones take a walk and see if you can find a door knob.” It was obvious that Bear did not like having to stay behind while others took the lead, but the logic was clear. “Mr. Danner, if you could please let the air out a bit we will send the SEALs to find a way in.”
“Roger, Lieutenant. Depressurizing the cargo compartment now.”
A few minutes later and the SEALs could be seen through the shuttle’s windscreen approaching the silver surface in front of the craft. “Hey, I don’t see any handholds or cleats. How do I stick to this thing when I hit it?” asked Kowalski.
* * * * *
Inside the alien ship the AI again came to full consciousness, alerted by sensors on one of the forward airlocks.
Interesting, these aliens are bipedal, much like the builders. They are also obviously warm life, given the readings from their suits and small boat.