Koban (2 page)

Dillon Martin, his mind far from thoughts of disaster, had been
engrossed in speculating on the research ahead of him at Midwife, the huge station
orbiting around Newborn. The sudden awareness that the Captain had just spoken directly
to him forced him to replay the words his mind had subconsciously registered. He
noted the emphasis on “hope” and “expect,” as well as an awareness of the slight
ache in his arms from isometric strain. He realized he had unconsciously assumed
a tense posture while allowing his excited imagination free reign.

He replied, registering a warm smile. “Captain, I believe you
have mistaken my eagerness to arrive for a fear of hitting the target. I’m not particularly
versed on Jump physics, but I do work with probability in my work. I’d think the
risk of hitting anything here should be exceedingly small.”

The grin on Dillon’s face and the refined Ramaian accent countered
any trace of rebuke his words might otherwise have conveyed. Nevertheless, Mirikami
was at a momentary loss for words.

Just before the exchange had started, one of the Bridge lift
doors had opened behind the two men. Overhearing both of them, and correctly interpreting
the Captain’s intention, the First Officer arrived on the Bridge just in time to
save her superior from his minor embarrassment.

“Fine Sir, please understand that our Bridge guests are usually
colonists, predominantly farmers and untraveled craftswomen making their first Jump,
more fearful of the voyage itself than of the wild new world they plan to settle.
A ship full of scientists is a refreshing change.”

As she spoke, Dillon pivoted his seat to face her. She was tall
and stunningly beautiful. She was also the reason he had called in a number of favors
to gain the purely token observer’s post.

“Quite understandable Good Lady,” Dillon flashed another winning
smile. “The number of biologists, geneticists, biochemists; all of the various ‘ists’
of the life sciences on board is rare on entire planets, let alone aboard a single
ship. We are exceedingly eager to study the emerging life of Newborn, which will
likely be the culmination of our collective careers.”

Mirikami, with a small nod of gratitude to his First Officer,
stepped in again, “Doctor, I apologize for misjudging your mood. Often our passengers
are colonists, apprehensive about where the ship might White Out. A few hundred
accidents each year, out of several hundred million safely completed Jumps, receive
an undue degree of news coverage.”

“No problem Captain. I would hardly allow the Gracious Lady’s
valiant rescue effort to fail.” Dillon gave a lopsided grin that made him seem boyish
and he looked expectantly from Mirikami to his subordinate.

The Captain, deferring his superior rank for the social grace
expected, extended his right arm and pivoted towards the new arrival, “Gentle Sir,
may I present my extraordinary First Officer?”

Enfolded in his chair’s restraints, ship custom permitted Mirikami
to make an introduction without rising for a full bow. “Gracious Lady, I am pleased
to present for your approval, Doctor Dillon Martin, our observer.” Continuing, as
he executed the slight bow his restrains permitted, swept his arm in an arc from
his First Officer to his guest. “Distinguished Sir, I have the honor to present
my very able and indispensable First Officer, Commander and Lady, Noreen Renaldo.”

Dillon’s preferred gesture of gallantry with a woman he was interested
in, old fashioned as it was, would have been to drop to his right knee, then with
eyes averted, offer his right hand palm down to be lightly held, or if fully successful,
kissed. His own seat restraints thwarted such action now, and he offered an alternative
greeting, almost as archaic and conservative as well. Averting his eyes, “On my
honor, my Lady, it is my pleasure to be presented.”

Unexplainably, Noreen found herself pleased by his restraint.
The absence of an overt sexual invitation or proclamation of fertility from a male
with obvious breeding potential was refreshing. She decided this subdued approach
was probably a calculated and successful technique for him, and yet this knowledge
made it no less appealing.

She chose a suitable sexually neutral form in reply. “Gentle
Sir, how noble of you to speak so. I am pleased to have you presented,” and she
stepped past him with a light stroke of fingertips along his jaw line.

Circumstances compelled Mirikami to interrupt further social
interplay. “Please excuse me Gracious Lady. Doctor we will able to view the Newborn
system first hand shortly.” Then, abandoning formality, “Better strap in Noreen,
we only have a few minutes. I’ve advised Ms. Willfem that I want to begin acceleration
just as soon as we have our bearings.”

“Aye, Sir.” Noreen moved to her station directly to Mirikami’s
right, with the observer’s chair between and a meter behind them. The Flight of
Fancy’s command section was on the topmost deck of a three hundred-meter diameter
elongated sphere, and four hundred fifty meters on the long axis.

Dillon watched appreciatively as Noreen, in her near skintight
white dress uniform, eased her trim figure into the amorphous Living Plastic couch-seat.
Sensing her presence, it promptly molded itself to her contours, folding the control
arm smoothly down in front of her. Pseudo pod like appendages extruded from the
sides and over the back to merge and gently but firmly secure the seated occupant.

Watching the seat fit itself to her body brought a vague tingle
to Dillon’s mid-regions. Her Earth-Hispanic heritage was apparent in silky soft
flowing black hair draped about her shoulders, as well as in her light olive complexion,
full lips and dark eyes. He detected the scent of some pheromone-based perfume that
accentuated the tingle he felt.

Noreen made a rapid entry at a keypad on her control panel and
a long slender rod grew from the console, curving slightly toward her face. She
spoke into it to address the ship’s Artificial Intelligence. “Jake, display status
of all couches on screen three B.”

The auxiliary display indicated that eight hundred and seventy-four
passengers were secure; eight other crewmembers were at duty stations, ten stewards
secured among the passengers, and four off duty crewmembers were in their bunks.
All eight hundred and ninety-nine souls, the three on the Bridge included were
ready for the White Out.

Mirikami, also noting the all-secure display, keyed on the ship
wide intercom. “Gentle Sirs, and Gracious Ladies, White Out will be in about two
minutes. You may observe our re-entry on your local viewers. Please remain seated
after we enter Normal Space, as we expect to begin our vector towards Newborn promptly.
You will feel a shift in ship attitude as we rotate and begin thrust. When we have
established a constant vector at a compensated three-quarters standard gravity
I will allow you to move about. Thank you, and enjoy the view.”

The White Out went as always. As the countdown reached zero,
there was a barely audible ping along the hull. There was no other physical sensation,
and the best evidence that the Jump had ended came via the sudden appearance of
normal star filled space on the screens.

The term White Out was somewhat of a misnomer, and derived from
the exit of the ship from an event horizon created via the capture of particles
of enormous energy from Tachyon Space. There
was
a spray of radiation produced
at a White Out, but it was directed away from the re-entry point in the form of
invisible gamma rays. The White Out was the antithesis of the Black Hole like event
horizon formation that initiated a Jump, just before the ship rotation into Tachyon
Space.

Noreen exclaimed. “I don’t believe it!” she spoke in exasperation,
as she noted the star’s location. “Mother is on our aft screen. We overshot optimum
reentry by at least four AU’s. I owe you another fiver Tet.”

With deadpan
expression in place, Mirikami acknowledged. “Captains are always right.”

Then he added, “Do your sharp eyes have the second planet picked
out yet? I see a large gas giant that Jake has flagged on the left side of our aft
screen. If that’s the inner giant then we aren’t very far out. We might have a short
vector to Newborn’s orbit.”

“Sir, Navcomp has our position fixed relative to three pulsars
and a quasar and the primary star.” New data continued to appear. “Ah!... Jake now
indicates Newborn is aft and to port of our position, at about two point four AU
and we are sixteen degrees below orbital plane. We’ll be overtaking Newborn from
behind and below. Maybe...,” she made a rough mental calculation, “thirty to thirty-five
hours out if we can maintain fifteen g’s in Normal Space. The Midwife beacon will
give us the exact distance, once Jake picks it up.

 “Should I have the Drive Room use the last of the Jump tachyon
to start vectoring towards the predicted position, or wait for visual confirmation
Sir?”

Trusting computer accuracy completely in this situation, Mirikami
didn’t hesitate. “Let’s get underway. The star itself is moving away from us, or
we from it, at a hundred-ten kilometers per second. We can step up to fifteen g’s
Normal and one g internal after we catch a couple of new tachyons.”

The transfer of the diminished Jump tachyon’s energy into the
secondary field for Normal Space propulsion was completed. Noreen fed the course
to the Drive Room and to Jake, the AI.

Mirikami
had a new wager ready when his First Officer had finished entering their course.
“I’ll bet you another five Hub credits that we can trap a few more energetic particles
and hold eighteen g’s
all
the way to Newborn.”

“No bet,
Sir. You either majored in Improbable Statistics, or tinkered with Jake’s prediction
logic.”

“Ah, well,” he sighed. “I’ll just have to get rich some other
way.” He looked to Dillon, “Doctor, would you be a gambler by any chance?”

Dillon’s chuckle matched his deep voice. “Please Sir, both of
you may call me Dillon. Doctor makes me sound too old. And I’ll wager on some games
of chance Captain, but I need a better grasp of the odds than tachyon capture probabilities.”

“Well, might you be a practitioner by any chance, of the old
Earth card game of poker?” Mirikami probed.

“As it happens, I am. I completed my Doctorate on Earth. Poker
was practically a required subject in my social circle. I’m a bit out of practice,
but if this is an invitation, I couldn’t pass up the chance to play against someone
that might try to beat the odds and draw to an inside straight.”

Noreen gave him a friendly warning. “Don’t let his example today
fool you Dillon. He chooses his bluffs as carefully as he navigates. Ms. Willfem,
our Drive Engineer, has been learning some hard Poker lessons from our merciless
Captain.”

“We would be honored to have you join us at one of our games,”
invited Mirikami. “The stakes are low and the atmosphere friendly. We will likely
have a number of sessions during our two-week layover at Midwife.”

Dillon promptly accepted. “Thanks, I would enjoy the diversion.
Until our work crews have our equipment unpacked and our labs set up, I’ll have
some spare time.” He was pleased to notice that Noreen had eased into the informal
and first name mode of address with him. It was a good sign she had warmed to him.
He visualized her naked, a warm fuzzy image, totally out of place of course,
but one common to Dillon’s experience as he climbed the male social ladder.

“Excuse me Captain,” Noreen interjected. “Ms. Willfem has advised
me that the transfer to the secondary is complete and the primary Trap is retuned.”

“Good, let’s
boost. We’re losing distance every second.”

Dillon could see the diminished K class sun against the backdrop
of stellar pinpoints on the aft screen. It appeared to be slightly more orange than
Sol, and much more so than Ramah’s hotter and nearly white star. Their motion away
from the star wasn’t perceptible at this distance, of course.

The acceleration gong sounded gently, followed a moment later
by a slight twisting sensation and a mild push as the ship rotated and began a vector
towards the still unseen planet, nicknamed Newborn. Dillon experienced a brief moment
of vertigo as the star field swirled on the view screens.

“Noreen, give our passengers our approximate ETA and remind them
of the Last Night party in the Main Salon after dinner. Jake’s short-range scan
hasn’t found any rocks we need to dodge. Key their couches and allow them to get
up and move about, normal routine.”

“Yes Sir,” she acknowledged, and then reminded him of another
matter. “Jake had particle beam plasmas up to firing temperature before re-entry.
Should we let the chambers cool now since there are no nearby rocks too large for
the lasers to handle?”

Nodding, Mirikami gave partial assent. “Cool number two; hold
number one at sixty percent. We might want a quick reheat. This is an extraordinarily
dirty solar system and, I don’t want to lose a lot of time avoiding all of the cometary
tails. Contact the Midwife Bolide Watch Officer. Ask for any data they have on large
debris along our trajectory.”

As Noreen began executing her orders, Mirikami resumed his interrupted
role as host. “Doctor, I assume you wish to contact Midwife Station. The radio time
lag would be awkward at this range, but we can set up a record cube to repeat your
message until they reply.”

“The need was anticipated,” replied Dillon, as he dug a finger
into a pocket of his belt. Producing a standard small black data cube, he passed
it to the Captain.

“Is there any one individual you need to receive this?”

“Whoever is on duty will do. That contains our roster of personnel,
as well as an inventory of equipment and cargo.”

Nodding, Mirikami made several rapid entries at his keypad. “Jake
will repeat the message until they send a reply.”