Deep Space - Hidden Terror (The Stasis Stories #6) Read online

  ***

  AP Miami, Florida—Festive Cruise Lines announced they have entered an agreement with Staze Inc. to build the first Aircruise ship. It will be based to a large degree on the technology developed for the urban heat shield program, now better known for decreasing the frequency of major hurricanes.

  The heat shields are massive—approximately a square mile each—Stade structures covered with solar farms. They store energy in flywheels which incidentally act as massive gyroscopes that keep their attitudes extremely stable.

  The plan is for the Aircruise ships to be significantly smaller versions of the heat shield, though still very large in comparison to typical ocean cruise ships. Shaped like upside-down pyramids, they will earn significant revenue from the sales of energy derived from solar farms on their flat upper surfaces.

  An Aircruise ship will have staterooms around its lower periphery, each one with its own window and balcony. They will be looking out on a splendid view from the ship’s typical seven thousand foot altitude. Interior spaces will be vast, allowing them to be set up as party spaces and sporting venues. Though space on the top surface will be limited by the areas set aside for solar farms, the ships will have golf and swimming facilities on the sunny upper surface of the structure.

  At first, the ships will dock at spires currently used for orbital launch and collection of energy from the heat shields. In the future, Festive expects that destinations will put up their own tourism-oriented spires

  .

  As the craft she was in drew away, Lee stared out the window at the space station she and Norm had been building for the past couple of years. They’d started with only the huge blimp they cast their Stades in, attached to the ISS2 and a central hub. They’d attached kilometer-long spokes going from the hub out to two “sausage link blimps,” then started the links rotating around it. Swinging them around the hub at 0.95 rpm generated one gravity in the sausage links and obviated the problems of muscle and bone atrophy from weightlessness. As time had gone along, they’d added more spokes and sausage links, building toward the “wagon wheel” type of space station people had long envisioned in orbit. They still needed a few more spokes and links to have a complete wheel but with a circumference of 6.28 kilometers and several floors in each link, it would provide a vast amount of living space with normal gravity. The people who were living in the ring and working in microgravity blimps attached to the hub were doing some impressive science—in a radiation-free environment, while maintaining physical health by spending two-thirds of their time in full gravity. Plans were underway for a two-kilometer diameter by five-kilometer long “barrel” that would rotate similarly. Rather than hydroponics like they were using in the wheel, inhabitants of the barrel would grow crops in actual soil.

  Lee had considered staying on to finish the wheel and then take on the challenges of the barrel, but instead, she’d decided to take on the rest of the solar system. Today, she was on her way to the south pole of the moon where she’d be chief engineer for the thousand-kilometer interplanetary launcher. She and Dez Lanis had already spent some time together planning out that construction project and thought they’d solved most of those problems already. However, she knew that, as always, difficulties they hadn’t anticipated would raise their ugly heads. Once the lunar launcher was operating, Lee intended to be launched out to Ceres where she’d build another interplanetary launcher.

  It’d been hard, deciding to go to the asteroid belt rather than Mars. She felt wistful about Mars but the resources of the belt were much more accessible and appealing. She hoped they could find and crush a suitable carboniferous asteroid, one that, with a little more processing, would make reasonable soil for barrel habitats in the belt.

  Launching dirt from Earth just seemed crazy.

  And, of course, they hoped to mine one of the metallic asteroids. Not for iron, since Stade was a far better structural material than steel, but for precious metals.

  For a moment she reflected on the day when she’d been a junior engineer at Space-Gen and Mary Willis had practically had to force Lee to evaluate the Stade samples Kaem and Arya had sent the company. Those samples had opened doors she’d never dreamed of. Working part-time for Stade, then full-time. Designing space-launchers and space planes. Kaem and Mr. X giving her opportunity after opportunity until she’d become the best-known aerospace engineer on—or off—Earth.

  She looked fondly over at the man sleeping in the seat next to her. Those Stade samples and the subsequent events had early on led to her meeting Norm Tibbets when they’d both been half-time employees at Staze; she from Space Gen and him from GLI. They’d had somewhat of a rivalry at first, but when they’d both become full-time employees of Staze and gone up into space to build the station… they’d become friends.

  Very good friends.

  He’d gotten over his space sickness, though she still gave him grief about how long it took him. She’d thought working together so closely would destroy any nascent romantic notions about him.

  It hadn’t. Instead, they’d fallen in love.

  They’d been the first couple married in the station they built.

  She hadn’t told Norm yet, but now she was pregnant.

  I’m gonna have to push the completion of the Lunar Ring, she thought. The ring rotated like the space wheel, spinning slower, but fast enough that the centrifugal force in its tilted sausage links could combine with lunar gravity to provide residents with Earth-normal gravity. She’d already insisted that if she were going to take on this project, she had to get an apartment in one of the links that were already rotating. Can’t have our little one come into the world afflicted with low gravity health issues, she thought.

  Part Two

  Chapter Five

  AP Charlottesville, Virginia—Today, Staze Incorporated announced that they’ve achieved another remarkable increase in the efficiency of their proton-boron fusion system, including the thrust per gram of fuel of the rocket engine that’s based on it. Staze developed the fusion system to generate electrical power and has successfully dominated the sales of new power installations over the past decade. Their only competitor in this field, Maryland Fusion Systems (MFS) has virtually no market share because their prices were initially exorbitant. Though they have subsequently reduced their prices, they have been unable to win back a significant customer base. MFS sued Staze for patent infringement, but the courts determined that the mechanics of the Staze system have little in common with the process patented by the University of Maryland.

  Staze developed the proton-boron fusion rocket engine in conjunction with NASA and even the initial version made a huge difference in the transit times for interplanetary space flight. This new ninety-five percent efficiency rating should result in a further seventy-five percent reduction in fuel requirements, allowing much larger payloads on trips to the outer planets.

  In a related announcement, NASA says that they are considering a robotic expedition to the star Alpha Centauri A. They are also soliciting possible astronauts, though they are not sure whether anybody would be willing to make the trip. It seems unlikely, since just getting to Alpha Centauri would take over fifty years. During that time the astronaut or astronauts would be in stasis so, to them, it would seem as if no time had passed. However, assuming the ship was able to refuel—which is far from certain—over a century would have passed here on Earth by the time they returned to our solar system. Though it seems doubtful that anyone would be willing to apply, NASA says they are interested in interviewing highly qualified applicants. They would need to be skilled in the sciences and willing to be gone from Earth for so long that not a single person they knew, relative or friend, would still be alive (unless, of course, that person also went into stasis during their absence).

  Diddiq stretched and blinked, thinking muzzy thoughts and struggling to bring his hand up and rub at crusty eyes. Slowly he focused on the wall display of his cubby showing his vital signs. His first heart, the main feed to his b
rain and vital organs, was up to forty beats per minute. His second heart, the main supply to his extremities was only at five bpm, explaining why it’d been so hard to move his hand up to his eyes. The third heart, a backup for the other two, was registering at a normal one beat every two minutes—just enough to keep the blood in its chamber from clotting.

  The temperature in the cubicle was only twelve ℃, which explained why he was still somewhat in a hibernation state. Maybe I don’t have to come all the way awake? he wondered. He used his organic radio to reach out to the ship’s system. “Rabaq,” he said, speaking to the ship’s captain—who was supposed to be awake during the Jovian passes. The captain who’d presumably ordered his cubicle’s temperature raised to bring him out of hibernation.

  “Yes, Expedition Leader?” Rabaq replied.

  “What’s our status?”

  “Tanks are topped up on Busux, Kranex, and Nesex,” Rabaq said. “The scoutship is at ninety-five percent.”

  The three main ships and the scout had started at Epsilon Eridani 2 with full tanks of hydrogen, using their gaseous-core fission-reactor rocket engines to accelerate out-system from EE2 toward the first of the four Jovian worlds in the EE system. By the plan, once they were in flat enough space, Rabaq would’ve jumped them most of the way to the gas giant—to the point where space was again warped sufficiently—this time by the Jovian’s gravity—that it would precipitate them out of the jump. From there they would’ve continued accelerating, then plunged through the Jovian’s atmosphere, using its gravity to bend their vector while also scooping up atmospheric gas to refill their tanks with reaction mass. Full tanks would allow them to continue accelerating as they traveled onward toward the outer gas giant. When they once again reached space that was gravitationally flat enough, they’d have jumped some of the intervening space to the third Jovian—which was in the best position for the next jump to the interstellar jump point to the Sol system. They would’ve continued accelerating and then made a pass through that planet’s atmosphere, filling their tanks again and bending their vector once again, this time toward that interstellar jump.

  Rabaq told Diddiq they’d just made their pass through the atmosphere of the third Jovian and were on their way out to the very flat gravitational regions of the outer system. They needed the gravitational pull of the sun or any of the planets to be less than 0.0000007g, which wouldn’t happen until they were way the hell out there. With space that flat, the power the ship’s nuclear engines could store for sudden discharge would be able to jump them the 10.47 light-years to Sol.

  If we’re up close to 0.5% of light speed, we should reach the jump point in about seventy days, Diddiq thought. He asked Rabaq, “How much of our reaction mass will we have to use to correct our alignment?” They needed to jump from a point exactly on a line between Epsilon Eridani and the star of the Sol system. They would then arrive instantaneously at a point on that line near the target star. They would precipitate out at a point in that system that had the same gravitational warp as the point they’d left from in their home system.

  Rabaq replied, “As hoped, we should be able to correct our approach to the jump point and reach 0.5% of light speed before our tankage gets down to fifty percent.”

  They’d need some tankage to maneuver and decelerate in the new system. Of course, arriving without speed was almost as bad as arriving without fuel. It could take forever to reach the inner system if they arrived at a low velocity. Also, a low velocity would mean that a pass close enough to a gas giant to scoop their tanks full would bend their trajectory too much or yield too little gas. Deciding they were going to be okay, Diddiq rolled over and turned the temp in the cubby back down. “I’m going back into hibernation,” he sent to Rabaq. “Wake me a few hours before we jump.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he got out some hibernation food and started to eat. Anytime you woke from hibernation you tried to put away some nutrition. The extra calories enabled a longer stay in hibernation.

  ***

  Shelle stood to the far-left side of the classroom door and gave it a gentle pull that swung it slowly open and into the room. As it swung, she first looked down the immediately revealed opposite, right hallway, then she shifted her eyes to the dim reflection of the left hallway behind her—reflected on the glass panel of the swinging door. There were a couple of kids in the hall, but Eric wasn’t among them.

  Taking a deep breath, Shelle slipped out of the room to the left and, head down, hurried down the hall toward the exit.

  Putting her hand on the push bar for the door to the outside, she thought she’d made it, but then Eric stepped out of the shadows beneath the stairs, “Hey, Shelle,” he said, sarcasm and anticipation dripping from his tone, “you were supposed to call me before you left.”

  Stomach sinking, Shelle pushed the door open, “I-I did try to call. Your phone was busy.”

  He reached for her wrist. She tried to jerk it away, but he caught it anyway. His grip was painfully unyielding as he pulled her back into the building. As tears sprung from her eyes, he dragged her toward the first classroom on the right.

  Shelle’s eyes searched the hall for someone who might save her. The only person she saw was a pretty dark-skinned girl Shelle thought was a junior. Certainly not someone who would interfere in the affairs of a couple of seniors. Still, Shelle gave her a pleading look in hopes the girl might tell a teacher.

  Though, Shelle thought with dismay, what good would that do? Eric would make me say I was fine, then hurt me even worse once he got me to himself again. She decided she hoped the girl just ignored the look Shelle had given her.

  Eric forced Shelle up against the wall and pinned both of her wrists over her head with one hand.

  He’s so strong, Shelle thought hopelessly. She timidly said, “Please, Eric. Don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do what, Shelle? Are you saying I shouldn’t be able to kiss my girlfriend?” He leaned close and kissed her, bruisingly hard, nothing romantic about it.

  It was as if he were doing it to her, rather than with her. His other hand had been brutally groping her breast, now it crept down toward her crotch. “No. Please, Eric. You’re hurting me.” Desperately she tried to appeal to reason even though he’d never responded to such pleas in the past, “You shouldn’t hurt your girlfriend.”

  “My girlfriend shouldn’t be trying to ditch—" Eric began.

  A forceful alto voice cut the air, “She said, ‘no!’ Let her go and step away!”

  As Shelle turned to stare at the open door, she noticed abstractly that Eric had jerked back away from her in response to the powerful command the girl had given. He still had a grip on one of Shelle’s wrists but he stepped back and turned toward the door. The junior girl stood in the doorway. Feet apart a little more than shoulder-width, arms akimbo, she looked… dangerous.

  How can she look so fearsome?! Shelle wondered.

  Stepping into the room the girl stalked toward them. Shelle’s eyes widened, Is she insane?!

  Eric snarled, “This is private! None of your business, bitch, get out of here!”

  The girl’s voice turned into a low growl, “I said, ‘Let, her, go!’ I don’t want to hurt you but I’m not going to let you keep hurting her either.”

  Eric sneered, “You? Hurt me?” He let go of Shelle and lunged for the girl.

  The girl’s foot lashed out like you might kick a soccer ball, striking Eric’s crotch a solid thump.

  Eric’s eyes widened and he started to crouch forward, reaching for his family jewels.

  As his head came down, the girl grabbed the back of his neck and pulled downward. Her knee flashed upward smashing into his descending face with a sickening crunch.

  Eric collapsed to his knees, then flopped onto his side, one hand on his crotch, the other on his face.

  The girl turned, calmly asking, “Are you okay, Shelle?”

  Blinking in astonishment, Shelle rubbed her wrists. She nodded, “A little bruised is all.” Involun
tarily, her eyes went down to Eric, not in sympathy, but in fear of what he’d do once he recovered.

  The girl gave her a nod and put out a hand. “I’m Zaii Vera.”

  Shelle shook the proffered hand and replied, “Shelle Brown.”

  Vera said, “Let me talk to Eric, then I’ll take you home.”

  “Talk to Eric?” Shelle thought in consternation. Don’t talk to him, we need to get out of here before he gets up!

  Shelle hadn’t got up the gumption to protest before Vera knelt next to Eric and pulled his hand away from his face. He glared up at her while she studied him a moment, then said, “I’m pretty sure your nose is broken. You want us to call your parents or 911?”

  “Of course, it’s broken, you whore!” he hissed, voice nasal because of his injury.

  Vera simply nodded, “Who do you want us to call?”

  Fury in his eyes, Eric caustically said, “I’m gonna file charges against you. And after you get out of jail, I’m gonna find you and beat the living shit out of you. Next time I won’t give you a chance to sucker punch me. I’ll destroy you.”

  Vera still spoke calmly. “Phone, call 911.”

  “What?!” Eric squawked disbelievingly.

  Vera shrugged, “If you’re planning to file charges, calling 911 will simplify that, and,” she fingered a black jewel pinned to the front of her shirt, “Then I’ll be able to give them my audio-video recording of events without anyone being able to claim I had time to edit it.”

  Shelle suddenly recognized the jewel as a body cam. One that sent a video record to the girl’s phone.

  Eric apparently recognized the same thing. He said, “Don’t call anyone, you stupid bitch! I’ll get myself home!”

  Vera fingered her earpiece and said, “Yes. I need to report an assault on an underage girl at Charlottesville West High School, room 102. The perpetrator’s been injured.”