Johnny Winger and the Battle at Caloris Basin Page 8

  Now it had actually happened.

  Johnny turned over on his side and was about to lay a big kiss right on Katie’s cheeks when the thing that he had just made love to disappeared right in front of his eyes. It wasn’t like an angel, dispersing into loose atoms over several minutes. One minute she was there, half naked under the down quilt, her blond hair damp with sweat and stuck to the sides of her face. The next minute, she was gone.

  Johnny Winger sat up abruptly. What the--?

  He decided not to think about what had just happened. Doc III had warned him enough times to keep his thoughts bland and non-threatening.

  Okay, so I’ll just get dressed and get out of here. Nice and smooth, no worries, don’t think I’ll stick around here any longer….

  He tugged on his jeans, threw on the flannel shirt and jacket and left as quickly as he could, not bothering to look back.

  He plunged into the forest and soon found the beaten-down brush of the old footpath. He walked for only a few minutes, not really caring where he was going, only knowing that he needed to get as far away from that cabin as he could, then he heard rustling in the brush up ahead. He stopped.

  A bear? A few deer? Wolves, maybe? He listened, went forward cautiously, and was startled when he ran headlong into a man coming the other way, erupting out of the bush like a bad dream.

  They both stopped, startled at each other. The man was older, face weathered with years like old leather, stubbly and unshaven for what must have been days. He wore a baseball cap that said John Deere in yellow stenciling on the front. One hand cradled a shovel. Johnny had the impression the man was a farmer, though he had seen no farms anywhere nearby. In fact, the more he looked, the more the farmer resembled a neighbor of the Wingers, from when he had been a boy in Pueblo.

  But that couldn’t be, could it?

  None of this made any sense.

  The farmer squinted up at Johnny, gripping the shovel handle tightly for support. “Young man, you’ve passed the test. Congratulations.”

  Johnny didn’t know what else to say but, “Thanks. What do I do now?”

  Now the farmer gave that some thought. He rolled a toothpick stub around his mouth, chewing on it vigorously. “Can’t rightly say all the details. But you passed the second configuration change…I can say that much. How do you feel?”

  Winger admitted he felt great. Making love with Katie Gomez did that sort of thing. “Like a new person, actually.”

  “Well, you’ve got all kinds of new config drivers, new programming. Ought to feel like a million bucks, I reckon. You’re doing pretty well, young fella.”

  Winger looked back in the direction of the cabin, expecting to see the same porch lights he had first noticed, on approaching the place. He saw nothing. The lights were gone. The cabin was gone, like it had never been there. Only trees remained.

  “Where do I go now, sir?”

  The farmer raised his left arm with a grunt and pointed to some distant mountains. They resembled the Front Range of the Colorado Rockies.

  “Up there,” the farmer told him. “Place called Ford’s Creek.”

  Johnny Winger didn’t think twice about it. He said goodbye and started walking.

  He was determined he wouldn’t turn around to see if the farmer was still there.

  Chapter 9

  Gateway Station

  Earth L2 Point

  November 2, 2155 (five months later)

  0230 hours (U.T.)

  United Nations Quantum Corps “Official History of the Earthshield Project: Design and Deployment; November 2155 to January 2156, CH 2: Operation Spider Web.

  (from “The Archives of the United Nations Quantum Corps”)

  Even after five months, the Earthshield project still had plenty of detractors. The critics were numerous and vocal: the whole thing was too vast, it wasn’t well thought-out, there was no way it could stop the great swarm, what about gravitational forces that might distort the shape of the shield, couldn’t the great swarm just go around, over or under and why does it look like that anyway?

  In fact, many of the criticisms were valid from a technical point of view. However, the urgency of the situation demanded that something, anything, be done. If a camel was a horse designed by a committee, Earthshield was a protective barrier designed by a committee. In the end, politics would triumph over all else.

  Imagine two shallow saucers stuck together, open ends pressed together, with the Earth and Moon in the middle. Now replace the saucers with a three-million kilometer wide mesh of nanoscale robotic elements. That was Earthshield, at least in its initial design.

  The whole purpose of Earthshield was to provide a physical barrier to the oncoming great swarm. The shield did not completely envelope the Earth-Moon system, but rather formed a sort of pancake structure, extending from Earth’s L1 to its L2 equilibrium points.

  Inside the protective envelope, both Earth and Moon would be more or less protected from nanobotic swarm incidence roughly along the plane of the Earth’s orbit, the ecliptic plane, plus or minus a few degrees. This structure was thought to be able to cover the most likely approach vectors of the so-called mother swarm.

  The physical extent of the barrier would be some three million kilometers, with a depth of about half a million kilometers.

  From the beginning, it was understood that gravitational forces would quickly distort the shield unless anchor satellites and positioning buoys were employed.

  Earthshield could be thought of as a single linked physical object, but the linkages were nanobotic effectors which could be adjusted and reconfigured as needed.

  UNIFORCE engineers had calculated that deploying the entire structure would take several months and would involve a minimum of four Frontier Corps ships. Two ships would lay shield bots from Earth out to L1. Two ships would deploy shield bots from Earth to L2. The deployment pattern would resembled a weaving pattern…multiple trajectories to and from L1 and L2, shifting a little the end of each sector sweep.

  The end result, it was hoped, would be a physical barrier composed of individual nanobot elements, linked by effectors and configured not only to form a barrier but to be able to fight off probes and assaults from other swarms. From the beginning, some Sentinel technology would be applied here. Most of the bots would be well equipped with bond disrupters and other defensive weapons as well as their linking effectors.

  The equilibrium points L1 and L2 are gravitationally stable and would require only modest maneuvering from the anchor satellites. However, the gravity of the moon and Earth along the ‘strands’ of the shield would eventually distort and disrupt the shield, so additional positioning and maneuvering buoys would be required, at multiple points along the arcs from L1 to Earth to L2. The PM buoys would be small satellites with comm links to specific sectors of the Shield, to help it maintain shape and orientation.

  Earthshield control would be operated out of Gateway Station, a manned complex at the L2 point. Control functions would include positioning and maneuvering, coordinating the operation of trillions of propulsors, overall sector status and condition, repairs and maintenance, power and configuration control.

  To give the public a sense of involvement in this great enterprise, and to provide an outlet for the media frenzy which had been stirring up riots and chaos worldwide since the approach of the mother swarm had been proven by Farside, UNIFORCE had concocted an ‘Earthshield Day,’ to commemorate the launch day of the four Frontier Corps ships which would deploy the shield—

  Akiro Murasawa snorted at the words on the tablet screen in front of him. “Earthshield Day, my ass,” he muttered, then finished off his last finger of sake and set the cup down with a firm thump.

  Swanson Vogt did likewise with his beer, but waved at Marshall Bob, the erstwhile Old West robotender running the bar at Gateway’s canteen. “Another round…right here.”

  Marshall Bob trundled over to retrieve the mug and moments
later, had replaced it with a new frosty container, its sudsy head already spilling out onto the table.

  “Hey, don’t get your nose out of joint, Akie. It gives the peasants something to do.”

  “Yeah, while we make like a big sewing machine and lay down this magic carpet. It’s a dog and pony show, pure theater and that’s all it is.”

  “Maybe so,” Vogt said, licking foam from the mug. “But we’ve still got a job to do. You didn’t sign up with the Corps to lie on a beach somewhere. At least, you’re off cycler duty. What a brainfreeze that is, Earth to Mars to Venus and back again, like an old bus.”

  The two corvette captains, Murasawa of the UNS Herschel and Vogt of the UNS Pegasus, stared morosely out the cupola window of the canteen, watching dock workers and yardbots swarm all over their two ships. In all, four Frontier Corps corvettes would depart from Gateway in the next few days: Herschel, Pegasus, Tombaugh and Copernicus. Murasawa and Vogt would command the first two.

  Vogt took a deep draft and belched, turning heads across the canteen. “Your crew ready, Akie? There are only about a million things that can go wrong with this stunt.”

  “Ready as we can be,” Murasawa replied. “We didn’t finish all our quals but Fleet says do it later, after we’re underway. That’s what I love about this whole operation…let’s just throw the book out the window and wing it all the way. That’s how you get people killed.”

  Vogt shrugged. “At least it’ll be a good show. And they can always blame any failures on the poor crews and captains of Pegasus and Herschel. Makes sense to me. We do have an awful lot of rookies onboard. Hey, I saw that new engineering officer of yours yesterday. What’s her name?”

  “You mean Lieutenant Commander Polansky? Yeah, she’s our new angel…and that’s one practice the Corps has maintained for about three decades too long. Whose idea was it anyway that execs and engineering chiefs should be angels? Here we are fighting a cloud of robo-bugs in outer space and what do we do: we use the same damn bugs to man our ships. Pure genius, if you ask me.”

  Through the cupola window, the two captains watched dockhands scurrying around Herschel, checking last minute fittings and upgrades to her structure.

  “Still looks like a big kebab skewer to me,” Vogt said. “And all the hab spaces are like onions and potatoes.”

  “She does have quite a kick, though,” Murasawa said. “New plasma torch engines. Once we launch, we can be on site at L1 in less than twelve days.”

  “What say we make like captains and take a tour?”

  “You’re on.” Murasawa slammed back the rest of his sake.

  The two of them left the canteen and made their way through tunnels and compartments to Gateway’s outer docks.

  In loose orbit around Earth’s L2 equilibrium point, Gateway Station was an oddball assortment of cylinders and spheres, hung on trusswork-like structure like grapes on a trellis. A few hundred meters away, Herschel floated serenely oblivious to the fantastic vista around her, tethered by telescoping work tubes to the station.

  At the dock hatch, Vogt studied the venerable old ship through the nav scope. “She still looks like a kebab skewer.”

  Murasawa beamed. “True, she ain’t much for the eyes. But she did yeoman duty as a cycler for five years, til Ptolemy and Voltaire and the newer ships came along. Venus, Earth and Mars, around and around. Not the most exciting duty I ever pulled but she was a good ship and we had a good crew. Swan, you remember Marcel Goodwin?”

  “Old Goody?…I do indeed. Worked with him building the station here. I guess he was off flight duty then. Gruff old bird but he had some stories that would curdle your nose hairs.”

  “Yep, that was Goodwin. Best captain I ever worked with. When you’re cycling, time passes pretty slowly. It’s boring duty. But I have to hand it to Old Goody. We seldom had a boring day. Only C/O I ever served under who could make casualty drills into a contest and get you motivated to pull doubles every week and like it.”

  Vogt and Murasawa cycled through the dock lockout and rode a small shuttle on curving tracks along the worktube to the ship. The once-mothballed cycler was designed with a long central mast off of which hung cylinders and spheres, a quad of propellant tanks stuck on the aft end above radiation shielding and her plasma torch engine bay.

  “She’s the only thing around here that could make the trip out to our first deployment site in less than three months. We don’t have a lot of suitable ships in the vicinity.”

  Akiro Murasawa had developed a lot of respect for Frontier Corps people over the years. When word came out from CINCSPACE that Big Herk was to be saved from the scrapyard and converted for deployment ops, he thought the schedule Paris had sent up was insane and that was being kind. But converting Big Herk and her sister ships was priority number one at Gateway Station and the engineers and techs and roughnecks of Frontier Corps had gone to work with pluck and determination you didn’t often see back Earthside.

  Which was just as well since CINCSPACE had decreed that Herschel would launch not later than two weeks…fourteen days…from today, come what may.

  Murasawa figured the techs would still be nailing parts on the old warhorse even as she lit off her plasma torch engines and headed out.

  “Let’s check out the bridge first,” Murasawa offered. He and Vogt drifted through the main hatch, skirting tubes, ducts and wireways stuffed through the opening as dockhands scurried about, then made their way along the main gangway forward to A deck, the command center.

  They made their way down an access tunnel and into the airlock, where Murasawa encountered a young electrician with a tablet. Murasawa scanned the work logs, then signed off. The electrician disappeared back into the worktube. Murasawa grabbed his gear and bags and pitched them in his bunk compartment three levels down, then drifted back up to A Level to find Vikram Singh, Gateway’s chief engineer, dressing down a few young techs for something they’d done or not done. After haranguing the poor saps for five minutes, Singh kicked them out of his office and blinked hard, realizing it was Akiro Murasawa and Swanson Vogt hanging at the door.

  “Either I’ve had a few beers too many or that’s the legendary Murasawa-san gracing my doorway…I heard you were running Big Herk.”

  They shook hands, then embraced roughly, slapping each other on the back. Murasawa introduced Vogt.

  “Yeah, Vik…it’s me. And I’m supposed to be driving that old crate you guys are sprucing up. I’m taking Swan here on a little tour. How’s it going?”

  Singh was partially balding with a fringe of gray hair like a halo around the top of his head. He swept his hand toward the view outside the porthole. “That ‘old crate’ you’re referring to will soon be able to run circles around all the other cyclers, once we get through with her. Complete re-do on all decks and everything aft of the propellant quad is brand new…the engine bay’s got higher temperature chambers, high-capacity plates and shielding. Plus a new reactor core, right out of the box. Take a look—“

  Singh pressed a few keys on his desk keyboard and the swarm box on his desk came alive, a faint sparkling fog issuing out of its head like a smoking chimney. In seconds, the swarm formed itself into a scale model likeness of the Herschel, floating in space between the two men.

  Vogt marveled at the detail. Right down to the seams on her hab spaces and the stores and supplies pods hung off the main struts, the nanobotic model was a faithful reproduction of the very ship they were in, complete down to the most minute details.

  “CINCSPACE was right…it does look like a kebab skewer. Those pods could be the onions.”

  Singh snorted. “Those pods you call onions are A, B, and C decks. That’s where you’re going to spend the next six months, Captain.”

  “I want to see for myself, Vik.”

  Singh smiled. “First, you meet my assistant…Aki.” Singh pressed another button and the swarm box issued more glowing fog. This time, a para-
human angel entity formed up, hovering over them like something out of a dream. The bot stream swirled and shifted, drifting and coalescing into the likeness of a face and shoulders…a passable sim of a bearded, squint-eyed sage with a double-chin…a suitable resemblance to Buddha himself.

  Murasawa was duly impressed. “Hello, Viktor…what exactly do you do around this place anyway?”

  The Viktor angel swirled and brightened as the bots built structure and stabilized the image.

  ***I assist Dr. Singh in any way possible. I take notes and images, manage assignments, handle correspondence and perform many other essential functions for this project***

  Murasawa understood. “You’re a glorified secretary.” The swarm brightened and roiled like a time-lapse storm front at Murasawa words.

  “You’re not hurting his feelings by calling him a secretary,” Singh said. “Viktor’s very proud of what he does. I couldn’t manage this mess without him.”

  ***And I have the greatest respect and admiration for Dr. Singh and what he has been able to accomplish in renovating Herschel, with limited time and resources***

  “A secretary and a cheerleader…Vik, anytime I need an ego boost, I know where to come. Now how about a little trip to show off Big Herk? Swan here swears his own Pegasus can run circles around this crate.”

  “When pigs fly, Captain. Gentlemen, just follow me.”

  Singh, Murasawa and Vogt made their way down the ship’s central gangway to an airlock at the end of C Deck. They cycled through and found themselves aboard Big Herk’s Service and Support deck, the bottom onion on the kebab skewer.

  “Let’s go forward…to the command deck. If I’m right, your new engineering officer’s already aboard.”

  “Polansky? I didn’t know she had arrived.”

  Singh smiled. “Captain, there’s a lot you don’t know about what goes on around here.”

  The three men made their way forward through the ship’s central tunnel, past wire and cable bundles, exposed ventilation ductwork and workbots drifting from deck to deck, carrying tools, supplies, lunch buckets and everything else crews needed. Finishing Big Herk was priority number one at Gateway Station and every able-bodied man and bot had been drafted for the work, which had proceeded around the clock for the last few weeks.