[This is actually the second chapter.]
Space flight occurs with three separate types of “propulsion” systems. The term propulsion isn’t necessarily valid for all three, however. The first has been around since some scientist decided to shove a controlled explosion at the back end of a long tube and watched it ascend into the clouds. That form is, of course, basic rocketry — using Newton’s Law to move something forward by doing a lot of pushing backwards.
Rocketry, has some significant limitations. First, you need to bring fuel for the controlled explosions … typically, a ˆlot” of fuel. And that fuel is inevitably very heavy and the fuel that you’re carrying needs to also be pushed ahead — at least until you’ve expended it. The other major limitation is that you can’t go faster than the speed of light (FTL). No matter how much you try, the universe waves a condescending finger of rebuke at you and then tells you, in no uncertain terms, “No.”
The remaining two methods came about much later and were the result of yet another scientist messing around. It had long been hypothesized that there might be a shortcut from point A to point B, but the shortcut might be to just bring points A and B next to each other. Then you could just take barely a single step from A to B and you’d be there. This remained a hypothesis for a very long time, until, one day, a scientist working at a lab based in one of the asteroids of the home system assembled some equipment and flipped a switch … and made the asteroid disappear.
As he was in the asteroid in question when it disappeared, his fate remains still unknown. Perhaps, one day, we will find a lone asteroid floating somewhere it’s not supposed to be and discover his remains.
Thankfully, though, he kept copious notes and the sudden vanishing of a rock in space caught a lot of attention. That was followed by intense research to figure out what happened and how it happened, as there wasn’t any sort of destructive force accompanying the disappearance.
And that is how both the Fold Drive and Crinkle Drive came about. The Fold Drive allows, as the name implies, “folding” space-time so that a ship can suddenly be elsewhere. In order to be able to accurately decide where you want to go, however, the ship that’s folding needs to be far away from any other major gravitational sources. You can’t just fold from the orbit of one planet and wind up in the orbit of your destination planet. Perhaps you’ll wind up in an orbit somewhere, but you won’t be able to control that. It has become generally accepted that a safe distance is about in the middle of a star’s Kuiper belt — beyond the farthest planets.
Which is where the Crinkle Drive comes in. A Fold is used for very large distances — interstellar ones. And that’s why local gravitational disturbances can disrupt the precise calculations needed to send yourself to a specific target. But, if you’re just trying to travel a much shorter distance … you can do it while you’re closer in-system. Crinkling is just a series of micro-, or more precisely nano-, pico-, or atto-, folds. And, unfortunately, it can’t achieve FTL speeds. It can get close to the speed of light and does not require a massive (constantly-expended) energy source.
Modern space travel, in-system, requires two of these methods — basic propulsion and Crinkle Drives. To travel between stars? That’s where Fold Drives come in.
It had been a very long and incredibly boring trip so far. Although he was a newly-promoted and graduated Lieutenant, Desmond Cowell hadn’t even been allowed onto the bridge of the transport ship. He’d promised he wouldn’t touch anything — only that he wanted to be on the bridge for undocking … and then for the Crinkle trip out … and, maybe, for the Fold? No? What about the Crinkle trip inbound? Surely, the Captain of the Coalition Naval Transport TT-10972, a.k.a., the Marie C. Griffiths, would allow him that least little favor?
But, apparently, even that was asking too much. He’d been ordered, in no uncertain terms, to confine himself to his passenger cabin, the small and cramped library, or the gymnasium. He was allowed to visit the wardroom during meal times, but even though he was seated at the officer’s table, everyone studiously ignored him and would go so far as to not discuss the details of their trip.
Cowell understood that he was receiving what amounted to an unwritten, but still catastrophic-level, reprimand. He guessed that the series of pranks he’d led at the Academy might have finally caught up with him. It had never occurred to him that his skills in piloting small craft would not be sufficient to allow him to escape punishment.
After graduation, all of the officers had waited, mostly impatiently, to be called for their duty assignments. Some of the ensigns — now Lieutenants — already had positions waiting for them and they’d departed before the ink was even dry and had barely had time to swap their rank insignia. Not Cowell, though. He had no notable connections other than the group which had formed every time he came up with another Grand Idea™, but dissolved as soon as the task had been completed.
Finally, his name had been called and he’d raced to the Assignments Office at the Academy. Taking a moment to adjust is uniform, he’d knocked and been told to enter. The Lieutenant Commander sitting at the desk with a large collection of files looked up at him. His name plate identified him as Daniel Palmer. Cowell came to attention in the middle of the room.
“At ease, Lieutenant… I have no idea who you managed to piss off this much, but I almost wish I knew the story behind this. I am pretty sure I could go a month with people paying for drinks for me just to have me tell them.” Palmer waved his hands. “Well, that’s neither here nor there. What’s relevant for you is that you have a duty assignment as a relief pilot in the Ceromi Duza star system, at Station YZ7-PP5, also known as Fortuna Burrow.”
Palmer leaned back in his seat, weaving his fingers together, and then resting his chin on them. “I had to do a bunch of research to figure out where the hell that system is. Suffice it to say that it’s off the regular transit lanes. There’s one inhabitable planet in the system, which is the one the station is orbiting. However, it’s an some sort of special quarantine status with an ‘Eyes Only’ designation on what’s there. I’m not cleared to read the file. Presumably you’ll be briefed when you arrive.
“The good news, such as it may be, is that it looks like it’s the wrong direction from any of the front line fighting that’s going on. The bad news, though, is that you’re not going to be racking up combat time, so expect to be stuck with that rank for a while. Like I said, you’ve managed to receive a totally shit assignment out in the ass end of nowhere to keep you out of sight and mind … probably until whoever you pissed off has completely forgotten about you and you’ve spent your time being punished and then you’ll be allowed to return.
“As for reaching your station, there’s no civilian transport available or even allowed to go there. That means you’re getting tossed onto the next navy cargo ship taking supplies there and bringing back the guy you’re replacing at the same time. Lucky you, TT-10972 is due to depart within the next three days, and they are docked at the station above us right now.”
He leaned forward and stood up, reaching out his hand to shake Cowell’s. “Grab your gear and haul ass up there. I’d strongly suggest trying to stock up on whatever entertaining items you think you may need or want over the next three years.”
The voyage had taken twenty days, seven in Crinkle out, six days through a long series of Folds, and then, seven on the Crinkle in. Yesterday, one of the mates had informed him that today is when they’d be arriving, so he should pack up and get ready to debark the ship.
Today, even before the announcements about the crew needing to prepare for docking, Cowell could tell that they were on final approach to the space station simply because he could sense the minor changes in acceleration that signaled lining up for docking clamps. And, as expected, after a final set of reverse acceleration, presumably to complete what was known as a zero-zero intercept — for zero difference in position and zero difference in velocity — there came the loud clanging of station clamps grabbing the hull of the transport ship.
Next was the announcement bellowing out over the internal speaker system, “All hands! Ship is docked! Secure your duty stations and prepare for cargo transfer. Hatches opening in ten. Passengers prepare to debark once we open them up!”
Cowell knew that he was the only passenger on the ship, but the indifference with which he’d been treated during the trip remained. He was probably just as happy to leave as they were to get rid of him. Grabbing his bag, he walked through the corridors to the passenger hatch. When he got there, it was still closed, so he dropped it on the floor and waited until the announced ten minutes had passed.
Moments later, the hatch cracked open. No matter what else, the transport Captain knew his job and had equalized pressure between the ship and the station before this, so there wasn’t even the slightest “pop” of air rushing one way or the other. With the hatch fully open, Cowell turned and saluted the ship’s flag before stepping across the open hatchway and onto the station platform.
Standing at the end of the short platform was an officer, a Lieutenant Commander. A quick walk brought him in front of the other and he came to attention, saluting the Coalition flag, then the station flag, and then the officer waiting for him.
“Lieutenant Desmond Cowell, reporting for duty as a replacement pilot on station YZ7-PP5, sir! Request permission to come aboard.” He held the salute while the other officer casually looked him up and down.
“Lieutenant Commander Bryce Veevers.” The salute was returned and both men lowered their hands. “At ease. I’m Flight Deck Management, so you’re under me. Since I’m sure you spent the trip out here sleeping, I’ll tell you that the Base Commander is Joshua Yamamoto. He’s responsible for the entire base and all twenty-five thousand souls, military and civilian, on board.” Veevers noted Cowell’s look of surprise when he said “civilian”.
“Yes, that’s right. We’ve got civvies on board as well. Some people brought their families with them. Also, since we have absolutely no major civilian support anywhere nearby, be aware that fraternization is permitted so long as no one is in the same chain of command … not counting the Base Commander at the top. However, get on too many people’s bad sides … or don’t take no for an answer … and you’re likely to wind up trying to breathe on the wrong side of an airlock. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Cowell was still surprised at a large station like this being run this way.
Veevers handed over a small file of paperwork. “Since you’re solo, you get a small cabin — luckily all to yourself — on the second ring, B Level. cabin 274. It puts you reasonably close to the flight deck, so it’s a short trip back and forth. Take a look at the file, it’s got all the details about what’s where on the station. Your personal comm unit is waiting for you on the desk in your cabin. Make sure to put it on as soon as you get there and it stays on so long as you’re stationed here.”
He glanced quickly at his wrist. “It is currently 1326 station time. Tomorrow you get to show me how much of a hot-shot pilot you are. Report to my office, 1-A-73, at 0800. Be ready to get kitted up and fly. Any questions?” The look on his face made it clear that the answer should be “No, sir. No questions,” but he didn’t even bother waiting.
Catching the eye of a random Spacer walking nearby, he signaled him to come over. Once he got closer, both men read the man’s name tag. “Poole. Great. Lieutenant Cowell, here, has just arrived and is now stationed with us. Please take him to 2–B-274 and make sure his comm unit is waiting for him.” With that, Veevers turned and started walking away.
“Eh, don’t worry about him, sir. He’s always like that. But he’s a good officer. Now, Lieutenant … 2–B-274, he said? Let me carry your bag, sir.”
Spacer Poole grabbed Cowell’s bag and started guiding him towards an open hatchway in one of the station bulkheads. “I’m sure you saw it as the transport was approaching, sir, so you know that the Burrow is a standard Triple Ring-and-Spindle station.”
“No, Spacer. I didn’t have the luxury of a port window, so I have no idea what this station looks like.”
“Ohhh… Sorry, sir. Yeah, it’s a Triple, so nothing special about the basic layout. Center spindle is pretty much all of the main environmentals and station positioning adjustments. Bridge is at the starward end of the spindle, nothing pointing planetside. First Ring, closest to the Bridge, is all of the main operations areas. Launch deck for all of the small craft is spindle-side, A Deck, to give the catapult tubes maximal distance before separation. Landing and recovery, as well as docking for larger ships is space-side, which for us is G-Deck.”
“Ok. Seven decks in First Ring. Is that consistent throughout?”
“Yeah. All three rings are seven decks. Third Ring is almost completely residential and some entertainment areas, but nothing really big. A couple of holovid auditoriums and even a club or two for when someone feels like putting on some sort of music performance or decides to try a comedy routine. Occasionally, one of the work crews tries to do a play or whatever. It’s best to attend and tell everyone they did a good job even if it was horrible. Keeps morale up.”
“Veevers said there’s a bunch of civvies here. Does that include kids?”
“Yes, sir. Second Ring is where the school is located, as well as stuff like gymnasiums, some parks, as well as the BX. It’s also where flight crew get cabins so you have reasonably quick access to the flight deck. There’s transit connections between your cabin area and the deck, so you don’t need to take a trip through the spindle. There are a few others that have been set up between the Rings, and they usually wind up being the fastest way around.”
Poole paused and winked meaningfully at Cowell. “Although, if you’re attempting to entertain a lady friend, nothing like a nice leisurely private pod ride from one of the rings down to the spindle and then back up to another ring.”
The pair of them arrived at a closed hatch labeled “InterRing Transit”.
“Here we are, sir. This’ll take us down to Second Ring, A Deck. From there, it’s not too far to B Deck and your cabin. If you’ll just push the call button next to the hatch?”
After a quick pod trip to Second Ring, and a very quick walk later, they arrived at a closed hatch labeled “2-B-274”.
“Here we are, sir. Your cabin. Since no one is residing here, it’s not locked, and anyone can open it. Although, unoccupied cabin openings are logged, so no one can just go around grabbing a cabin for storage space if they wanted.” Poole chuckled. “Not that a few of us haven’t tried one time or another.”
He waved his wrist near the touchpad next to the hatch and it slid open. Poole waited for Cowell to precede him in.
“I guess this is home for however long I’m stationed here, huh?”
“Most likely, sir. Unless you get married or something, in which case, you can request a larger cabin. Otherwise, none of us really move around much.”
The cabin was small, but was set up like a studio apartment. At one end, there was a loft bed with a ladder to the side. Underneath the lofted area stood a desk and chair at one end of the alcove, while opposite it were cabinets. Next to the desk and jutting out from underneath the loft was what looked like a chiller for food and a countertop area next to that. On the opposite wall was a cooktop and another surface area, with two stools stored underneath, and then a sink. Finally on the bulkhead opposite the loft area was another closed hatch.
“It’s about 30 em-two, so you shouldn’t have to step into the corridor to sneeze, but don’t flail your arms around too much, sir, or you’ll bruise a knuckle. The closed hatch, there, is to the head and a shower area. It’s not much, but it’s functional. Unless you’re restricted to quarters, the wardroom is open to all and it’s not just one meal for everyone. You can actually have a seat and order whatever you’d like. Or, of course, you can get food from the BX and prepare something for yourself here.”
Poole pointed at the wristband sitting on the desk. “That’s your comm unit, sir. Once you put it on, it’ll register to you and also set you up as the resident of this cabin. That’ll lock the hatch from the outside unless you’re present. Lock is, of course, able to be overridden by Base Command or the MPs, just like usual. Other than that, you get your privacy, sir.”
Cowell looked around at the bare walls and cold surfaces. “Just drop my bag there. I need to get settled in here and start figuring out what’s where in this station. Thank you very much, Spacer.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
