Skies Over Tomorrow: Constellation (19 page)

BOOK: Skies Over Tomorrow: Constellation
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“Do you think we'll find the extraterrestrials that made the astral chasm on Kepler One-five-two-two?” said Vincent.

“I don't know. We might,” Rehana said.

“Well, I hope we do. I want my name in the history books as the first human to make contact with an ET.”

Rehana was quiet.

“I thought you of all people would be excited about this mission. In all likelihood, there is intelligent life on the planet.”

“We don't know if whoever or whatever made the chasm still exists,” she said, “so why get your hopes up? I am content with just being among the first to embark on this adventure, and that we are able to do this because of the chasm. Crossing thousands of light-years in just under three days—now, that's history.”

“Too bad we were in hyper-sleep for those two and half days or so.”

“Yeah, well, that's only because we had to play it safe. It is alien technology that brought us here, after all,” she said. “Be glad we came through it just the same. No one could say if we would have gotten days older, or what.”

“I say if chasms become the next best thing, then I'm looking forward to not being rendered unconscious, tubed and crammed, drowned in fluidic suspension, and stored like cured meat.”

“That day just might be right around the corner,” said Rehana. “Hey, let's concentrate on the mission. We've got to find an adequate path the Alto can maneuver without having to leave too much of a footprint blasting its way through.”

“I don't know. Xavier said the Alto just might have to do that. He and Lance looked for one yesterday to no avail.”

“There is a reason we're number one, and they aren't, you know.”

Vincent only smiled in agreement, as he went through menu options for the first of the Inquirer One probes on the main monitor of his center console.

“Slow it down and hold position,” he said while rechecking preparations made for the surveyor. When the hyper-boost disengaged, and anterior thrusters fired a few times, Alpha Omega Nine came adrift a couple of thousand kilometers from the asteroid field. Vincent finished with the push of a button and said, “Inquirer One ready for launch.”

“Launch it,” said Rehana, as she powered on the heads-up display, which overlaid the AED view of space.

“Inquirer One underway,” Vincent then said.

They watched the lighted tail end of the probe shoot off and mingle with the stars that lingered among the asteroids. Rehana reached and turned up the third channel switch of the com-link, and said, “This is Alpha Omega Nine to Zeta Squad, respond.”

“This is Lieutenant Versius, Zeta One of Zeta Squad, over.” His image appeared on screen seconds after audio contact. The dark visor of his helmet covered his face.

“Zeta One, have your squad on standby. Once we find an opening, we'll call you in.”

“Roger, Alpha Omega Nine.”

Rehana terminated transmission. “All right, Vincent, we're going in.”

“Just remember what I said about running into an asteroid.”

With the conventional option of its propulsion system, the boosters of the Guardian ignited and thrust Alpha Omega Nine into motion. Rehana, aided by the HUD, piloted it on the probe's flight path, tracking it into the chaotic shifting of roving planetoids. She became so immersed in piloting the Guardian that time slipped from her awareness, and pleased with the controls of the mech, she pushed its mobility to the limits of her piloting skill. With elegance, the gunsuit danced about the unborn comets.

The longer and further the recon team traveled the belt, the more Vincent's anxiety chipped away at his confidence in Rehana's manipulation of the gunsuit. “All right,” he said, resetting the vicinity alarm one too many times. “Hey, hey, try to stay on course!”

“Hey yourself,” she said, “and try relaxing.”

A short interval beeping sounded off.

“The probe has stopped,” Vincent said.

On each of their main monitors appeared a detailed computer rendering transmitted from the cosmic drone; the Guardian emerged from around a planetoid to find it waiting for retrieval.

“I suppose this is our lucky day,” Rehana said, bringing the recon unit adrift in a break in the asteroid belt.

“Hence, luck is why we're number one,” said Vincent, as he reviewed the probe's findings.

Though a few asteroids speckled the course and there were soft bends to be negotiated, the recon team was in agreement that the Alto could maneuver it.

“Let's get Zeta Squad in here to secure it,” Rehana said.

“Roger. Transmitting to the Alto and Zeta Squad.”

“Standby with the subspace transmitters.”

“Transmitters are a go.”

“Target all asteroids along the lane, and those likely to drift across.”

“Copy that,” Vincent said. “Let's do it.”

The Guardian flew back and forth and about the rift, firing a high velocity rocket not only at planetoids that maintained a constant drift impetus, but also asteroids with differing momenta. Each rocket bored into a target and rested a subspace beacon above its surface.

In an attempt to keep asteroids from straying into the Alto as it was to transition through the field, the colonel decided it would be easier for the cruiser's artillery guns to track and destroy marked planetesimals, rather than use two or more squads to patrol and shield the ship's hull.

On the third sweep, Zeta Squad entered the strait and began to blast a few small asteroids. The light show from their weaponry flared about while one of the heavily armed Guardians retrieved the spent Inquirer One probe.

Because of the probe's functional design, the surveyor became useless once programmed with a task, and thus the reconnaissance Guardian was not equipped to retrieve its own device. Even more, it was standard protocol for a probe to have a full energy cell at the very start of an assignment, and in the case of the first Inquirer One, it was no longer valuable because with the successful completion of mapping the asteroid field, its energy cell depleted to less than half its capacity from frequent in-flight adjustments of its speed and direction. The only good the instrumented spacecraft could serve now was to be collected and hauled back to the Alto, where intelligence officers would further evaluate its data and redeem its worth by retuning it for use.

The vicinity beacon sounded off.

“It's okay,” said Vincent. “It's just fragmented debris from the asteroids they're shooting. You'd think they'd be a little more tactful.”

“Tell me about it,” Rehana said.

“Well, don't worry about them. We're finished marking the course, so now we can start the real fun.”

With a sense of zeal, Rehana reached for the com-link and dialed the bridge of the Alto. “This is Alpha Omega Nine,” she said with the appearance of the com officer on the VDT. “Phase one complete. A strait has been secured. We are proceeding forward with entering the system to begin the preliminary survey of the first planet.”

“That's affirmative,” said the com officer. “Five units from Zeta Squad will trace you.”

“Understood.”

“And your scout range is now being transmitted.”

“I'm receiving,” said Vincent.

“Reception confirmed, Alto.”

“Have fun,” the com officer said with a nod of her head.

“You bet we will. Alpha Omega Nine out.” Rehana turned down the second channel switch and paused before she flipped up the third one to call on Zeta Squad, as she said, “So, what's the range?”

“Whoa, Moore can't be serious. Have a look for yourself.”

The data blinked onto Rehana's main monitor, and she smiled. “I suppose making history requires new records to be set. I don't think any team has ever maxed their range limit before, have they?”

“Nope,” Vincent said, “but who better to be the first?” Receiving an approving nod from his co-pilot, as she signaled Lieutenant Versius, turning up the third switch of the com-link, he then said, “Of course, that will put us five lakhs pass the belt.”

The masked squad leader blinked on screen. “Zeta One, the Alto has just confirmed our go ahead with phase two. Discharge the phantom detail from phase one.”

“Roger that. Master Sergeant Hodo, Zeta Two, will head up the phantom detail. I and the remainder of my squad will hold the strait.”

“Affirmative. Alpha Omega Nine out.” Rehana dismissed the lieutenant from the face of the VDT, and then took hold of the controls and engaged the hyper-boost; the Guardian's twin nozzles once again expanded and discharged, blasting the recon unit from the asteroid field, and on into new space. “Vincent, prep another Inquirer.”

“I'm already on it. It's set for the first planet.”

“Instead, set up it for a shallow run to One-five-two-two.”

“Are you crazy? You just confirmed the go ahead of doing just the first planet.”

“I know. Have it run to the first, and then on to the next, and so on.”

“Rehana, we have orders. Are you trying to keep us in perpetual trouble with Moore?”

“Relax. We'll do a concentrated survey of the first planet, after we do One-five-two-two first and work our way back out.”

“I don't know, Rehana. Let's just follow the game plan.”

“Come on. Your ET just might be waiting for you on the planet.”

Vincent thought for a moment. “All right,” he said, “mapping course for second Inquirer One.”

Rehana held an impish smile in reserve with a slight nodding of her head, as she in turn, powered off the HUD and piloted the Guardian farther into the unfamiliar solar system—freestyle—with just the AED. She was ecstatic with exploring and seeing all it had, particularly the exoplanet of interest to Mars, Kepler 1522F.

Across time and space, the recon team spearheaded the Red Planet's latest venture to procure new worlds and resources. The heavens through the AED of the cockpit made the lieutenants seem motionless and unable to ever catch up to the stars that lured them, though the Guardian's hyper-boost was at three quarters from full throttle. Such was the effect of voyaging kilometers per second. As its resplendent plume of plasma and carbon imitated the glow of a comet's coma, the Guardian trekked a lonely course through the universe.

The gradual wilting of Alpha Omega Nine's primary thrusters faded the luminosity of its exhaust, as random bursts of auxiliary thrusters slowed its momentum. “We're coming up on our range limit,” Rehana said, reading one display of her console while coasting the gunsuit. “Point two five AU.”

“Don't get too excited,” Vincent said. “Three point eight crores is a long way from the Alto, with the belt separating us. Let's not get lost out here in the great beyond, okay?”

“Relax,” she said, thrilled to have piloted the Guardian to its maximum distance, though Vincent was untechnical with rounding it up.

“Inquirer One Number Two is ready,” he said. “And thinking about it, I'm glad these probes have the option of hyperdrive. With you, we would either really be lost out here, or Moore would probably clip our wings for breaking range limits too many times for his liking.”

“Oh, come on,” Rehana said after a light chuckle. She settled and took in a deep breath, and exhaled. “Launch it.”

The Guardian wafted in the vacuum of space as its main thoracic, posterior compartment exposed the surveyor. The satellite, which looked more like a miniature rocket, lifted from the trunk and drifted behind the gunsuit, and then floated to a position above the reconnaissance mech. While the coffer closed up, the Federation probe darted into hyperspace toward its first objective. The cockpit fell quiet, which after starting the mission's timer, Vincent settled and joined Rehana in waiting for the probe to relay back its observations.

Time passed one minute after the other, with each minute having evolved from every counted second. Because the lieutenants were well accustomed to sitting for durations, they were unfazed by the waiting. Their training taught them to turn anticipation into calmness while a probe was on approach to a target. Elevated body activity of any kind was conducive to wasting energy and air, which could affect the overall productivity of the mission and undermine the achievement of its goals. Only when the sound of short interval beeping called their attention did they rise from their meditative, reposeful state.

“Inquirer One has dropped out of hyperspace and entered its primal stage,” said Vincent, communicating with the probe. “Visual coming in. Approaching the first planet. Everything is looking all right.” He kept close track of the probe's activities and systems.

Rehana depressed a button on her center monitor and watched with awe the images from the transmission of the second Inquirer One.

“According to these readings, it looks to be a B class, more like Neptune. There is nothing special about it—liquid mantle, atmosphere of hydrogen and helium.”

“You know what to do,” Rehana said. “Send it back to the Alto.”

The surveyor skimmed the orbit of the powdery lime world for several minutes, compiling a generic analysis before conveying it to the recon team. When its timed assessment of the gaseous giant ended, it adjusted its orbital path and used the rotational movement of the planet to accelerate it deeper into the star system. The moment the sling shot effect began to diminish, the probe's hyperdrive system leaped it back into hyperspace.

Dissimilar to the hyper-boost of the Guardian's hybrid thrusters, the probe's hyperdrive system, attributed to a supercomputer that managed an advanced solar ionization engine, maximized the efficiency of its energy cells. This maximization bolstered its flight range by permitting it to attain stellar speeds to reach hyperspace and travel in parsecs—much to Rehana's contentment.

The solution of equipping probes with hyperdrive technology proved best to extend the sensors of a reconnaissance Guardian, as to cover vast areas of space beyond its range limit in a short period of time. This arrangement also spared the Federation the expense and risk of putting ships, people and equipment in harm's way with expeditions, and even with rescues. It was always best to first check things out.

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