Part 1,Part 2,Part 3,Part 4,Part 5,Part 6,Part 7,Part 8,Part 9,Part 10,Part 11,Part 12,Part 13,Part 14
"Flag At the Edge of Space" page, Athena Home Page, Other Stories Home Page.
"Take me over."
Captain Hall turned away from the man he had spoken to, his chief engineer, William Gerthe, and looked through the windows of the small travel pod. It lifted off the launch platform on the orbital station, and on its gravitonic induction drives, it pulled away and headed into space. The glare of the bluish disk of Earth was not visible, while the construction rig was merely a bright speck of light straight ahead. Gerthe worked the simple controls of the pod smoothly, and looked ahead. He, like the captain, were in their Starfleet uniforms, simple bluish-gray coveralls with a multitude of zippered pockets for carrying things, an equipment belt for holding tools and coloured patches on the shoulders to indicate the department the officer worked in. Gerthe had red patches, since he was in engineering, while Hall had on the yellowish-gold patches for the command and services division. Finally, the last touch was the ship patch, over the left breast. It was circular, consisting of stylized hands holding up a globe, superimposed over a five-pointed star. It was some designer's idea of what the U.S.S. Atlas represented.
"How are preparations?" the captain asked.
The Canadian-born engineer answered, "All preparations are on schedule, captain. We'll launch at sixteen hundred hours, as scheduled."
"That's good to know."
"In reality, the ship has been ready for two weeks. The fine-tuning, the final tweaks, are just us finding things to do while we wait for the details off the ship to be dealt with."
"That's not normal, is it?"
"No sir, it's not."
Slowly, the construction rig came into view. It was basically a three-sized network of girders and support beams that held the ship within it while mounting various construction modules and equipment housings. The Atlas was secured within that rig, and lit from multiple directions by the arc lamps. Hall had seen this view before. In fact, he had seen the Atlas when it was just a frame of structural support beams and some hull plating. When he was initially appointed to this position, he could not even walk on his ship. Now, of course, he would be taking charge of it. When he travelled up to the orbital station and met Gerthe and had him pilot him over, this felt just like one of those inspection trips. He had done this six times previously, but this was not the seventh. He would not be leaving the Atlas for Earth until at least three years had passed.
The ship was large, surprisingly large for a vessel that would house only a hundred and twenty-five. The ship was a hundred and eighty-three metres long, with the forward disk-shaped section fourty metres wide, while the engine pylons and nacelles together made the rear section of the ship more than sixty metres wide. From a distance, it looked large and powerful, its light gray hull glistening in the sun that was climbing above the limb of the Earth. The travel pod was approaching the ship straight on, so Hall could see the rather narrow profile of the ship. The forward section was seven decks tall, and from the front, it looked like the pylons, which mounted both the impulse and the warp engines, extended straight out from the side of the disk. Gerthe banked the pod around to the side to approach a docking port, and this brought more of the ship into view. Extending straight back was a long flattened-cylinder shaped hull, three decks deep behind the saucer section, and expanding into four decks at the rear. In the middle was the engineering deck with its containment structure at the top, and behind that, the fuel tanks, the cargo holds and the hydroponics tanks that would allow the crew to grow some of its food on this long mission. At the very rear, in a bulbous extension that looked like it was added on at the last moment was the shuttlebay, and its three shuttles. The engine pylons were long, thick structures extending straight out from the hull. The nacelles themselves were flat, but with a slight curve that existed more for style than anything else. The warpfield emitters were located along the top, bottom and outside edge of the nacelle, and designed to allow the warpfield to be efficiently projected around the whole ship. Just inside of the nacelles were the cylindrical tubes of the impulse engines, with the driver coils in the middle, on the pylons, and the emitter generators and coils pointing forward and rearwards. They were, Hall had been told, engineering marvels. He liked how Gerthe had once explained to him, "It's an odd fact of science, sir, but the technology and engineering requirements in making the impulse engines work is far more advanced and complicated than making the warp engines work."
He was startled again as Gerthe spoke. "We're approaching docking, sir."
Hall just watched on a monitor as the engineer turned the pod around so that the back was facing the docking port. Gerthe let the pod itself line up with the docking ring through laser sights and exchanges, and then gradually back up the small vessel until the docking rings were within each other. With the tap of a few buttons, the rings shifted and turned, to create an airtight seal through vibrations that both could feel.
"We're docked," Gerthe reported.
"Thanks for the smooth ride, as always," the captain said. He stepped towards the rear and tapped the switch that opened the two hatches. Somewhat to his surprise, he found somebody was waiting for him on the other side, his first officer, Mary Abuna.
Hall knew most of his senior officers, since some of them had served with him during the Romulan War and others had seen action in that same conflict. Abuna was different. If she had seen action during the war, it was not on her service record. She was fairly young, only twenty-six, and was certainly an attractive woman, tall and slender with a dark skin and black, thick hair. When she spoke in English, she did so with a slight but not incomprehensible accent. Hall was somewhat surprised when Starfleet Command told him that Abuna was going to be his first officer on the Atlas, but their reasoning was that Starfleet was not strictly a military operation. It was also an exploration operation, so they wanted someone with a more scientific background and a more non-military orientation to have command responsibilities. As much as he was unsure about the wisdom of such an approach, he knew that this was something he was going to have to live with. She was judged by those in charge to be highly capable and proficient in the task she was being handed, so Hall was simply going to have to accept it.
Smiling, Abuna said, "Welcome on board, captain."
"It's good to be on board," Hall replied. He could not think of anything better to say on such short notice.
Abuna continued, "Only three members of the crew have yet to report, but I've been informed all three are on their way. We continue to make final preparations, but I see nothing that could hinder our scheduled launch."
"That's good," Hall said, as the two started to walk along the corridor that led to the bank of turbolifts at the centre of the saucer section. They saw nobody in the corridor as they walked.
Holding out a small data tablet, the first officer continued, "Sir, I have confirmed that all necessary supplies and equipment are on board and accounted for. The complete list is in here."
"I'll check it over later," he answered, as he took the device, which was a simple rectangular shape about the size and weight of a thin hardcover book. The two arrived at the turbolift bank, with Hall pushing the button to summon a lift. One appeared several seconds later, and the two took it to the bridge, which, by a convention that Hall could not understand, was on deck one. In fact, the bridge was deck one. It made more sense to put the bridge deep within the ship, allowing the bulk of the ship to offer some protection for it. Some of the ships during the war were constructed in that manner. Hall had heard that the tradition on putting the bridge on deck one went back to naval ships on Earth, which put the bridge at the highest point on the ship in order to give the officers the best possible view. It seemed like a lousy comparison, since a starship was more similar to a submarine than a surface ship, and nobody put the bridge at the top of a submarine.
The doors of the lift opened. Ahead was a short corridor and another set of doors, which led onto the bridge. This bridge was somewhat like others that Hall had seen. It was on two levels, with the lower level a couple of steps down. The only console on the lower section was the helm and tactical console. The pilot sat on the left, and the helmsman, who also functioned as the tactical officer, sat to the right. At the front of the top section of the bridge was the seat for the captain, who had no console of his own, but had some small screens mounted on the sides that gave him some information and some buttons to push. On each side of him were freestanding consoles. To his right were the engineering and sensor stations, and to his left were the communications and life support and damage control stations. At the rear were two smaller stations, which were configurable for particular missions and not generally manned. Ship status displays filled the back walls, while on the sides were panels that allowed access to important bridge equipment, such as the dedicated life support system, the computer systems and others. At the front was the viewscreen, which was turned on and displaying a small section of Earth and the stars beyond.
The bridge was filled with people. Many of them wore the coverall-style outfits of the construction crews, and they were going over last-minute details and fixing the little things that inevitably went wrong when something as new as the Atlas was started up for the first time. It was all a matter of fine-tuning the ship, and it was something that the crew itself was going to have to do once they were underway. Gordon Weisser, the pilot, walked up to Hall. The two men had gone back several years, and had served together on a couple of ships during the war. Weisser had always talked about travelling fast and far. He was a man about Hall's height and age, but his hair was full and a rather light shade of blond. He was also a man who seemed excitable at times, as if he was simply glad to be alive and out here in space. "We're almost ready," the man finally said, sounding perhaps a bit too enthusiastic. "This is going to be something."
"It's a mission," Hall replied. "It'll be one of many that we carry out, and that the ships that follow us carry out."
"True, but we're the first."
Abuna, standing nearby, replied, "That's not strictly correct. A number of ships preceded us out here, and operated in much the same way as we are."
"Yes," Weisser replied, "but they worked for Earth. We're working for something greater than Earth now."
"It doesn't seem that way to me. It will take time for the idea of this ‘Federation' to seem like it is more than the network of alliances we forged during the war. It just doesn't happen because dignitaries signed documents with fancy pens. One day, we're working for the United Earth Space Agency, and next, for the Federation Starfleet. The labels change, but the circumstances are not that different, at least not yet."
Hall said, "I take it you voted ‘no' in the referendum?"
Smiling just a little, Abuna said, "How I vote is not a matter I should disclose with you, sir." She did not wait for any kind of response, but simply walked away.
Leaning a bit closer to Hall and speaking in a softer voice, Weisser said, "You know, she's kind of good looking and all, and I'm sure she's pretty smart, but I don't know about that one."
"Good looking?"
"Ah, you married men are all the same..."
* * *
Before the launch of the Atlas, Hall met with his senior officers, who assembled in the situation room one deck down. This room was located almost directly under the bridge, and was a simple rectangular room with a table in the middle and chairs around it. Viewscreens lined two walls, and windows were along the third. The space was not plentiful, but they did not really need it. Hall looked over his officers. Abuna was there, as was Weisser and Gerthe. He had also been introduced to Sachiko Yuniki, who was the pilot and tactical officer, and to the ship doctor, Manuel Torres. The sixth and final member of this group of officers was Wayne Quirk, who was the chief of security. Quirk was a man that Hall knew from previous ships. He was the head of a Marine squadron that had captured a Romulan base and acquired important intelligence on this mysterious, faceless race. The information that he had captured was enough to allow the humans to actually communicate with the Romulans, although it was over subspace radio and limited to mostly text. However, it was enough to reveal another race tired and worn out through the war and eager for at least a ceasefire. Now Quirk was on the Atlas, and was the leader of a squad of twenty-four Marines, who would provide security, and military action if necessary. Quirk was like his men, as he was tall and in very good shape, if not a little muscular. He was well-trained in all things military, including weapons and hand-to-hand combat, and also in things like defusing tension and confrontation, and in dealing with situations that one might come across as a security officer on a starship. Nevertheless, Hall did not expect his new assignment to mellow Quirk. Torres was the chief medical officer, and though Hall had encountered him before, he was not too familiar with him. Nevertheless, the tall, dark-haired officer was judged to be highly competent, and experienced working in isolation, where advice on a procedure or a diagnosis could only come from a computer. Yuniki was a woman of Japanese descent, who was a little on the short side and pushing fourty--and showing it. She had long, straight hair streaked with gray, and usually worn in a single braid. Years ago, in the early stages of the war, Hall had served with Yuniki, and in one battle, she had suffered significant injuries to her legs. Now, she appeared to be walking normally, and was back on a starship.
Looking over the officers, Hall, standing at his end of the table and leaning forward, his hands loosely bracing his upper body, started, "We launch in one hour. I have to inform Starfleet Command about our readiness to launch. Are there objections?"
Gerthe spoke first, "No sir. I've just checked on all engineering systems. We're fully ready."
Abuna added, "All members of the crew are on board, and have stowed their gear in their quarters and are ready at their duty stations."
Weisser continued, "I've checked the communications status, and it appears that all information downloads are complete."
"So lets summarize," the captain started. "Everybody's on board. The tanks are topped up. The computer is stuffed and the cargo holds are full. Everything works when we push the right buttons, and everybody knows which buttons to push."
"I sure hope so," Abuna remarked.
"Do you have an objection to our launch, Mary?" Hall said, turning to look at the first officer.
"No sir."
"Good, if there are no further objections, I'll pass the word to Starfleet Command. In the meantime, I want to be clear here about our mission. It is to Rigel. At the same time, we are going to perform the shakedown cruise for the ship, and the absolute last thing I want to do is limp back to Earth because something went wrong. We'll also have to continue to prepare and train for whatever we might find there. We have no idea. It could be occupied, or empty. Its dilithium, if any, could already be mined out."
Yuniki spoke up, saying, "I hope that somewhere there is dilithium waiting to be recovered. Otherwise, our presence in space might be quite limiting."
"Yes, I can see that."
Abuna asked, "Do you think that the Rigel system is occupied?"
"Not by any long-term settlers," Hall replied. "The system is, afterall, not going to stay around very long. Stars like Rigel burn through their fuel in twenty million years. That's hardly enough time for the planets to get very organized, much less evolve to the point that life exists on them. They could be rather primordial, and conditions might even be harsh. If there are resources to be had there, some species might have made the attempt to get at them. Occupation is likely to be short-term, likely mining colonies, and likely not in any great numbers. We've seen similar things around other stars, like Sirius and Vega."
"A planet in the Vega system was terraformed," Yuniki said, "and even occupied by a race that's no longer here, apparently."
"And it's possible that something similar has occurred at Rigel, but we can't operate on the assumption that it had happened there. In all likelihood, it had not happened there, although if it had, the situation might become more complicated."
"We could always trade, instead of take," Abuna suggested.
"That idea has crossed my mind. Nevertheless, there is a lot of unknowns in this mission. I trust that everybody here, and by extension, everybody on this ship, is ready for those unknowns."
"The ship is," Gerthe remarked.
"The crew will be too," Abuna added.
Quirk said, "We'll be ready to do what we must. It's just the time frame that bothers me. It'll take a year to get there, assuming no serious problems, and that could put a lot of stress on us. I'm almost surprised that Starfleet Command is not considering use of the chronometric displacement drive for this mission. It would reduce the travel time from a year to weeks, or a week."
Hall answered, "The problem with the chronometric displacement drive is that we won't know what we're facing until we're facing it. Approaching it normally gives us the chance to learn and gather data along the way, which could help in the final stages of the mission. If the system is safe and we can recover dilithium there, I can see the cargo ships using that method of travel, but the first ship there has to be able to see in all the way. That's what makes this mission difficult."
"Of course."
The senior officers spent the better part of the last hour discussing their mission and what they would find at Rigel and how they could deal with all contingencies. They discussed signs of potential danger ahead of them, and methods to communicate to any aliens that they could come across, assuming that the aliens could use their communications methods and understand them. The mission was quite complicated, and the majority of those on board had never done anything like this. Hall knew that most of the people on this ship had served on various ships during the war, and it was those kinds of missions that they were most comfortable and familiar with. It was missions like the one coming for the Atlas that they would have to become comfortable and familiar with, because that was the future.
* * *
When Hall returned to the bridge, just one thought was occupying his mind. The Atlas was just ten minutes from launch. Nicole Dessardiens, the duty officer on the bridge at this point, turned to face him, and said, "Sir, we've just received word that there's somebody waiting to talk to you through the comm system."
"Who?"
"No indication," Dessardiens remarked.
"Patch it through to the ready room," the captain said. He was thinking that it was Starfleet Command contacting him and saying, basically, that there was a change of plan and that the Atlas was not going to launch. After all of these preparations, he would have absolutely hated to hear that message.
The ready room was a small room in front of the bridge. It was a small room, a place where the captain could go and wait for important developments, knowing he was steps away from the bridge, and it was a place where he could talk to someone in private. The room was not that large, but it looked comfortable, with muted colours, a large desk now clear of everything but the pop-up computer screen and the light. A couple of chairs were provided for more casual conversation, and those chairs could be turned to face the window that was at the very front of the room, a window that looked out into space. Hall could stand there, and look down and see the forward section of the ship sweep out before him, ending in the bow. The front of the ship was only about twenty-five metres away, but it just seemed further.
Right now, Hall ignored the view. He sat down behind the desk, and reached underneath to press a small button. The computer screen, a flat-panel display, rose out of a slot on the desk, and beside him, a panel slid open to reveal a control pad, which lifted in place. He entered the necessary codes to access the communications system and the message that was waiting for him. When the face appeared on the screen, Hall was at least relieved it was not the face of any of the Starfleet brass.
"Natalie," he said, gazing once more upon his wife. "We're just minutes from launch."
"I know that," she replied. She sounded a little said. He had tried to remain upbeat, but could understand her mood. "This is likely the last chance we can talk face-to-face. For awhile, we can exchange messages, but this is the last time we can talk like this."
"I know," the captain sighed.
"I just want to... be able to say goodbye."
"I am coming back."
"I know, but there's always a finite chance of... you know, and even if you do come back, it'll be three years. It'll be a long three years."
"For me too," Hall replied.
"Bring me back something nice."
Smiling now, the man said, "I'll try. Maybe there's this wonderful Rigelian souvenir shop along the way. We'll see." He felt a little relieved. He was really going to miss Natalie, a reaction that would be common among those in the crew that were married. He could see that in the future, marriage might be a handicap for Starfleet officers, and increasingly, they might remain single while in the service. About two-thirds of the crew of the Atlas were married, and none had their spouses on board. Not all of those relationships were going to survive. Hall hoped that his was not one of them. He had sensed that Natalie's fear about their relationship was behind her pleas, in months past, not to take this kind of mission. He had done enough, he had been told. Others could take this chance. It just was not his way, at least right now.
"That's good," Natalie said. "I'm going to miss you, miss you bad."
"I'll think of you every day."
"As will I." For the next few seconds, they just looked at each other through a viewscreen., unsure of what to say, or even if they should say anything. History was full of men going off on long voyages of exploration like this. Hall was just another in a long line. Finally, Natalie spoke up, "Darren, good luck and good speed. I love you."
"I love you too."
With those words spoken, Natalie Hall looked downwards, and simply ended the link between her in their Manhattan suite and him in the ready room on board the Atlas. Hall stood up. For the first time, he had an idea on how hard this was going to be. What he had been told could happen on this mission were just abstract ideas and thoughts dreamed up by someone who had been hired to do that. Now he could start to feel it. A part of him was reluctant to leave. A part understood what his wife had said about him having done his part, but he could not turn back now. He did not want to turn back now, and could not.
Returning to the bridge, with nobody questioning him about the message, as if they knew, Hall asked, "What's our status?"
"Countdown to launch remains," Abuna said, speaking from her position at the sensor and science console. "No delays. We have full clearance from Starfleet Command. All members of the crew are logged in and at their launch stations, all construction and non-ship personnel are off the ship. Hatches are sealed and gangways retracted."
"Are we free to manoeuvre?" Hall said, as he took his seat. Once more, he could look straight ahead and see the stars, and a little sliver of Earth.
"Not yet," Gerthe remarked. "Engine systems and internal power systems coming up now. We've initiated the warp core startup. Impulse cores approaching operational temperatures and pressures."
Yuniki, at her post at the forward console, with Weisser beside her, spoke up, "Sir, the construction rig indicates that it has confirmed our power-up status. The controller is waiting for your permission to sever the last connectives."
"Have him do so," Hall replied. He looked down at his seat, and the restraint systems built into the armrests, the underside and the backrest. Guided belts could loop around him at the touch of a button to hold him down should the going get rough. Launch was not expected to be rough.
Gerthe reported, "We're now totally on ship power. All external connectives are removed, and all ports are now sealed. That's confirmed."
Wiggling just a little in his seat, while staring at the controls in front of him, Weisser remarked, "Now we're free to manoeuvre."
"One minute to launch," Yuniki reported. She checked her displays again, and added, "All construction and base personnel have left potential exposed regions."
"Bringing up impulse cores to power," the engineer remarked. Hall felt little tension listening to this, since the Atlas had flown already. It had undergone tests and trials and demonstrations. This was its first mission, but not its first time out of the shed. Nevertheless, Hall did feel a little nervous. After each time out, the systems had been analyzed and tweaked for maximum performance and reliability. They had to check and recheck and try again. Once they were out of the construction rig, they were on their own. "Preparing for the full power thrust test."
"Go ahead."
Gerthe bypassed the helm controls and operated the engines directly. The full thrust test was simple. Both the forward and reverse impulse engines would fire simultaneously, and as the trust level increased, the ship should remain stationary. In addition, it should not shake or worse, start to move in one direction. He activated the control program that operated the engines, and which would shut them down if the ship started to move. He had to monitor the various displays to see if he could spot a flaw before the computer could. He watched as the thrust reached one hundred percent. The only hint that the engines were operating was a deep hum that seemed to come from the very structure of the ship, but it did not shake nor strain. The starship remained exactly centred in the construction rig. "Beautiful," the engineer said glowingly. "This is one fine ship."
"They put a lot of effort into it," Abuna remarked.
"About the only thing they could do to improve it would be to make it faster."
"They could make transporters fast enough to beam people."
"And have them live?"
"It's theoretically possible," the first officer remarked.
Gerthe scoffed, saying, "It'll never happen in my lifetime."
Yuniki cut into the conversation, saying, "Control has acknowledged our engine test, and other tests and telemetry we have sent them. Launch remains a go. Fifteen seconds."
"Gravitonic induction drive?"
"Standing by and ready," Weisser said, his hands already on the controls.
Those last fifteen seconds counted down seemingly slowly. Hall found himself at the edge of his seat, feeling the anticipation that had been building in him for a long time. How many times during his life did he think about being right in this position, guiding a starship under his command out into deep space, and into the unknown? Was this really what his life had been leading up to? He liked to believe it was.
"Sir," Yuniki reported. "Control has given us the clearance to go. They wish us the best of luck and a positive outcome to our mission. We can go at your discretion."
Hall waited only a second. "Helm, ahead at departure speed. Nice and steady."
Weisser, calmly, applied thrust to the gravitonic induction drives, the low-speed engine system designed for situations like this. The starship started to move forward. The last trusses of the construction rig, which had framed the viewscreen, slowly slid off of the screen. The Atlas, the largest and most complex vessel launched by mankind--so far--moved forward and cleared the rig. From observation and safety posts, the construction crew, who had spent almost as much time with the ship as those on board were going to, watched their handiwork move on by. One even did the backhand flips along an external walkway, something very easy to do in zero gravity. Others simply waved, and still others knew that as soon as the Atlas was gone, they would begin work on another ship.
"We're clear of the construction rig," Weisser reported.
"Adjust our course for departure," the captain ordered. The pilot smoothly worked the controls to turn the Atlas in the general direction that it was to go. Stars slid across the viewscreen, and the last look of Earth disappeared. "Ahead one quarter impulse." Seen from the rear, the impulse emitters started to glow, first a dull red, then a bright red, and finally a red so bright it was really white. The starship started to move forward at twelve and a half gravities, and pulled out of Earth's orbit. Hall looked at the small display mounted to his chair. He had set it to the departure angle. Earth was about half lit, and that half was the western half of North America, partly obscured in cloud. His wife was out of the line of sight, but she was there. It would be a long time before he was there too. Eventually, Hall pulled himself away from the display and looked forward. Ahead were just stars, some brighter than others, and Rigel likely among them. Hall could feel that the inertial dampers were doing their part and cancelling out the feeling of their acceleration, so it was time to push ahead. "Helm, one half impulse."
"One half impulse," Weisser acknowledged, pushing up the thrust controllers further. Now the ship was accelerating at twenty-five times gravity. "Subspace effects coming up now," the pilot added. Even at twenty-five times gravity, it would take the Atlas a long time to accelerate to one third of light speed, so they needed to cheat. The cheat was using the negative energy coming out of the warp core, which was still on standby, to make the impulse engines think that the ship was not as massive as it was. Without increasing engine thrust, Weisser was bringing up the acceleration to fifty and then one hundred times gravity.
"Full impulse," Hall ordered, and once more, Weisser worked the thrust controllers, putting them to their maximum setting. The Atlas was now accelerating at its highest sublight rate, and with the mass-reducing subspace fields, that acceleration was over one ten thousand times gravity. The numbers still astonished Hall. At this rate of acceleration, the Atlas would still take twenty minutes to reach a speed high enough to make the jump to warp, but they were heading out of the solar system and in the general direction of Rigel. If Hall studied the screen, he likely could pick out Rigel from among those other stars he could see, at least until their ever-increasing speed started to blue-shift the light and alter their perceptions about what they were seeing.
Gerthe added, "Warp engines are powering up now. Nacelles are responding. Diagnostic checks indicate all superconducting coils in the nacelles are functional."
"How long?"
"Twenty minutes."
For those twenty minutes, the impulse engines continued to work at maximum thrust, with their power augmented with surplus positive energy from the warp core. The negative-energy motons were guided into the nacelles, where they bided their time until forced into the alignment that would generate a warpfield around the whole ship and propel them forward at many multiples of the speed of light. Both Gerthe and Weisser monitored the engines, but the impulse system remained within tolerance, and the computer picked up no imbalances. The ship was completely steady. The hum was there, but after a few minutes, it was difficult to notice it unless Hall was concentrating on it. Everything was going just right.
Yuniki reported, "The local gravity caused by the sun and the planets has dropped to zero. In that way, we're ready for warp."
"Speed?"
"Twenty-nine psol," Weisser reported. "Still too low."
Hall was a patient man. Travellers in deep space had to be, since the journeys were long. Even starting the journey could be long. He could wait, and watch as the speed built up. The subspace factorization of the mass continued to increase, which pushed up their rate of acceleration. They were doing so at almost eleven thousand gravities. Thankfully, the inertial dampers were compensating for that nicely.
Finally, Weisser remarked, "Sir, we're cleared for warp travel."
"Then do so," the captain ordered. "Take us to warp six and point us in the general direction of Rigel."
Weisser flipped up a panel on the helm console. He glanced over at Yuniki, who had confirmed his own calculations. The Atlas could generate a stable warpfield given their speed and local gravity and other effects. The display showed the configuration of the warpfield, and the status display indicated that the nacelles could generate and hold that particular configuration, and that the deflectors could handle it. He reached into the slot, and pressed down the two relatively large buttons that were positioned there. They started a sequence of events that used magnetic fields in the nacelles to force the motons into the right flow patterns. Their own warpfields augmented each other and generated an overall warpfield that surrounded the ship. As seen on the bridge, the band of light caused by the Doppler-shifted light from the stars just seemed to rush towards them and explode in countless bright streaks. Hall always hated that moment, since it looked like the ship was under attack, but those streaks simply shot past. When the image returned, real-time views were replaced by computer-generated views using the infinite speed of light approximation. It seemed, somehow, reassuring.
"Warp two point two and stable," Weisser remarked. "Like I've heard, this is a nice ship. Accelerating to warp six."
Hall just thought to himself, the journey has begun.
* * *
The shift was over. With the Atlas simply heading at just over warp six to Rigel, Hall had no need to keep a full bridge crew on duty. In addition to a watch officer, who also operated the sensors and science console, the bridge only had a pilot and the navigator, who handled most other details of the ship operation. Even then, they had not that much to do but were there just in case something went wrong. Space was mostly empty, and a starship could be pointed in the right direction and then realistically left to its own devices. It was extremely unlikely that it would hit anything. Add on a computer that could detect and avoid pretty well anything that the ship might encounter, and there was no need to keep a large presence on the bridge. The pilot could do an entire shift without touching any of the controls. Nevertheless, they had to be there in case the unexpected happened. Hall knew that they should focus on their tasks for the entire shift, but he also knew that was unrealistic, and he was backed up in that view by a large number of psychological studies. The minds of the crew were going to wander. They were going to talk. He was sure that decks of cards, or at the very least mental games, would come out. He had seen it before. He had been part of it before.
After the shift was over, Hall went to the crew lounge. This large, rectangular room was located on deck three, in the centre of the saucer section. The furniture was simple, with a number of tables, each designed to sit four, making three neat rows down the length of the room. At the front was a viewscreen, which could show movies or related media, or it could simply show the view outside the ship. It was showing the latter now. At the rear of the room was the galley, where the two cooks and their one assistant was continuing to prepare food. The assortment of available dishes was placed cafeteria style, and the crew could simply go along and pick up what they wanted. Hall was not yet hungry, but he did stop to get a mug of coffee. Even with only a little cream added to it, the coffee seemed especially weak. "I hope that they're not watering down the coffee already," he muttered.
Someone heard him. He turned, and saw Gerthe at one of the tables. The engineer was eating a submarine-style sandwich. He said, "A problem, sir?"
"Not really. I'm just getting used to coffee Atlas style. Why does each ship have its own distinctive taste of coffee? This is definitely something that should be standardized across the fleet."
"I'm sure that they are working on that, sir."
Hall needed a place to sit, and Gerthe was taking up a table by himself. The engineer did not mind when the captain sat down across from him. Senior officers were supposed to stay together and all of that, he thought. "I see that the choices offered tonight aren't to your liking," the captain said.
"Perhaps," Gerthe started. "Personally, I'm more of a meat eater. I never thought that Starfleet would turn me into a vegetarian."
"Unfortunately, food choices are limited. We can't carry a lot of meat, and not many eggs either. We have to grow what we can in the hydroponics tanks, and limit the meat to occasional. I'm pretty sure that the supplies will last until we get back home, but still, you're right, it's heavily vegetarian, to the point we all have to take special supplements."
"Still the hardest thing about being in space," Gerthe continued, as he continued to eat the sub, between drinks of water. "The form of diet we have on starships is still something of a limiting factor in the kind of missions we can undertake. This mission is the longest that mankind has ever attempted. I can see in the end that the problem with the diet might cause problems."
"You think so?"
"It is possible," the engineer said. "I'm no expert on this, but I can understand where frustrations over a lack of variety in the food, and a lack of favourites, could spill over."
Hall just shook his head, saying, "But we've just begun. It could not have started already."
"Some of us in engineering were even thinking." Hall wanted to make some remark about how engineers who are thinking could lead to something dangerous, but he kept the words to himself. "You know how the transporter works. It dematerializes something, and then reassembles it in another location. In so doing, it transfers this matter stream through a pattern buffer to keep everything under control. Now, I was thinking that it might be possible to rearrange the matter stream and work with the bond energies and other aspects to, basically, create one thing from another."
"Alchemy?"
"No, not alchemy, since I'm not talking about turning one element into another, lead into gold, if you will. I'm talking about taking, say, a mass of carbon atoms, some oxygen atoms, some hydrogen atoms and a bunch of lesser atoms, and then using the pattern buffer to rearrange how those atoms are ordered so that what rematerializes are not piles of base materials, but a steak."
"Could such a thing be done?"
"Well, it wouldn't be easy. Given how many atoms are in a steak, you'd need one hell of a computer program, and lots of processing power, to do this, but I can see that it is theoretically possible."
Hall commented, as he continued to drink the weakened coffee--and realizing he had nobody to complain to about it, "Well, I'm sure that scientists back home could be working on that."
"It would revolutionize space travel. We could have any kind of food, with no concerns of carrying extensive stores or worrying about hydroponics tanks."
"I can see that such a future might also require more exercise facilities for the crew who would otherwise overeat on unlimited quantities of any kind of food imaginable."
"Discipline, sir. It's all about discipline."
"And what were you mentioning earlier?"
"Of course," Gerthe sighed.
The engineer finished his meal and left, leaving Hall alone at the table. He watched the others come and go, and was surprised that few even noticed that he was there. Most members of the crew knew hardly anybody on board, although that would likely change with time. Right now, though, this crew was at the awkward moment shared by many children starting at a new school, where lots of people from different schools had come and basically nobody knew anybody else. Those who made friends easily would get along well, while those that did not would have a lot of empty time on their hands.
Hall turned to the viewscreen at the front of the room. It was showing the forward view of space, with the distant stars holding their places, while the nearer ones could be seen to be moving, albeit slowly, as the Atlas moved past them. Centred in the viewscreen was one star, one that did not seem particularly brighter or more significant than the others, but that would change. Rigel was a blue-white supergiant star, and as they got closer on their seven hundred and seventy light year journey, it would increasingly dominate the view. Of course, Hall realized, he was not looking at an actual image of what could be seen outside the ship. The image on the viewscreen was a computer recreation. He had seen the real image, and it was nothing but an incomprehensible blob of light. When travelling at warp, not only did the forward sensors record the photons coming towards them, but also the photons that they were overtaking. Looking forward also was looking behind them. Out of the rear of the ship was nothing but blackness. It was a wonder that the sensors and the computer algorithms interpreting the raw data could straighten it all out.
"Oh there you are, captain."
Hall turned at the sound of the voice. It was Abuna, who was walking towards him carrying a tray that had a bowl of soup and what might have been a glass of tomato juice. "A problem?" he asked, assuming that by the tone of voice from the younger woman, she had been looking for him.
"Not yet, anyway. I'll let you know after I have this. I believe that this is chicken noodle soup, but I doubt there's any chicken in here."
"We're not even a day into the mission, and already people are complaining about the food."
"Well," the first officer continued, "people like to believe that they can eat the same variety of food that they are used to back on Earth while serving on a ship. Mankind will never become a significant space-going race until we can more fully duplicate the planetside existence on board the ships."
"What strikes me as peculiar, Mary, is that most of the crew of this ship served on military vessels during the Romulan War. The food had less variety, and in some cases, was simply not all that good, compared to what we have on the Atlas."
"True, but those military missions lasted just months. This one is lasting at least a year, in each direction. That's another thing that I wanted to ask you about."
Tentatively, Hall asked, "Yes?"
"Has Starfleet Command given you any direction about how to actually conduct this mission? I mean, is it non-stop to Rigel, or do we make stops along the way?"
"Our primary mission is to go to Rigel and assess the system for dilithium mining. However, I have been given the freedom to investigate anything we encounter along the way that might be significant or of interest to us."
"Are you planning to do that? I believe at some point along the line, the crew is going to need something different from this routine."
"I'm planning to run at least one planetary survey mission, on a world established to be uninhabited, just to give them practice. That might be months away. I'll need assessments on what we're capable of doing first. If we encounter other space-capable civilizations, that could lead to secondary missions as well. It's even possible that somewhere along this line to Rigel, we might be able to meet with some other advanced race, perhaps take shore leave. Who knows, the crew might even be able to pick up some souvenirs along the way. I did promise Natalie I'd bring her something back."
"That's good to know, sir. I don't think I can stand an entire year on this ship, heading just to Rigel. Right now, though, I need to know if I can stand chicken noodle soup without the chicken..."
Part 1,Part 2,Part 3,Part 4,Part 5,Part 6,Part 7,Part 8,Part 9,Part 10,Part 11,Part 12,Part 13,Part 14
"Flag At the Edge of Space" page, Athena Home Page, Other Stories Home Page.
