the last voyage of the lathan devers pt3

"dry." 103. "the last voyage of the lathan devers, part three: 'eternal july'"

[ visit drytheserial.wordpress.com for the full story ]

they were at the bridge, and Devers walked through the door which slid open automatically at his presence. Issac followed him inside.

Devers plopped down in captains chair and swiveled to face Issac, who had taken up his post near the door. he scanned the wall briefly and found the switch Pert had alluded to in the sickbay. that it had escaped him during his first visit to the bridge perplexed him, but he was now even more upset that no one had taken the two necessary seconds to point it out to him.

“now that i know where the straps are, since you don’t have a chair for me, i suppose i’ll help myself.”

“no need,” Devers interjected. “traveling through the holes is significantly easier on the ship and any bodies inside than is gravitational assent. you will feel a touch of accelerations, but once we open the hole, it will feel as if we’re traveling through normal space — that is to say, it will be sensationless — until we exit, at which time you’ll feel a slight deceleration. the effects are much lighter on the bridge due the dampening fields in this portion of the ship. really, i just wanted you to be here to see.” the captain swiveled back around and addressed his crew. “Gamne, you have a point?”

“it’s not the best, sir, but it will be more than adequate given our circumstances.”

“distance to approach?”

“at current speed,” a brief pause, “seventy-five seconds to acceleration point.”

“good,” the captain said. “any contacts?”

“one distant contact, sir, bearing three one three dash seven one eight. looks like a cargo ship headed to Dulvern. low energy emissions.”

“very good,” said the captain, turning to Syry. “any signals?”

“no, sir!” Syry reported happily. “and as yet, i’ve intercepted no communications regarding our departure.”

Devers nodded. “Jaymon? course?”

“i’ve got it, sir. coordinates locked, acceleration track verified. ribbon drive is charged, dry tank at eighty percent; consumption, four to five.” he turned away from his controls and looked at Devers. “we’re ready.”

“very good,” Devers said again, leaning back in his chair. he was much more relaxed than the last time Issac had seen him on the bridge. then to Issac, he said, “you understand the principal of the ribbon drive, i suppose?”

“of course,” Issac said. “i may be an atmospheric, but i did attend the university.”

Devers smiled. “yes, yes. you see, what we are doing, really, is cutting a hole through space, through the softest part of it, of course.” Devers continued as if Issac had answered to the negative rather than the affirmative. “you see, travelling at the sluggish speed of light, it would take us years, often thousands or millions or more, to arrive at our destinations. and since no one has yet found a way to travel through ordinary space at a speed faster than that of light, we use the ribbon drive. what we’re doing, Issac,” he went on pedagogically, “is opening up the fabric of space, then finding another point, bending it to where we are, then traveling the short distance between the two points that is outside of space. and time, in fact. does this make sense to you?”

“like i said–”

“it doesn’t make complete sense to me, either,” Devers interrupted. “i’m no physicist. with all this space bending, one wonders how space holds itself together,” he said amusedly, as if he did understand, but was attempting some sort of joke. if he was, it was lost on Issac. Devers continued, “to be honest, i’m not even sure how one finds the ‘softest’ part of space, but then, Jaymon and Gamne do, so i don’t need to. something to do with gravitational pull of stars and planets and even asteroids — big ones, anyway. the acceleration track –”

Jaymon cut him off with a report. “acceleration track initiated, sir.”

“well, there you have it,” Devers said, as if that explained everything. he sat back and smiled. “i never tire of it, you know. not really. sure, in the day-to-day, i don’t always have time to admire it. but it is beautiful. from such a basic compound…” he trailed off. Issac knew he was referring to dry, the substance which powered the ribbon drive, and in which their destination, Klin, was rich, and uniquely so.

just as Issac was thinking this, he felt an ever so slight accelerative force exerted on his body. the ship was speeding up. he had told Devers the truth: though he had infrequently traveled to space, and only then in short-range passenger vessels to visit relatives on nearby worlds, he had studied the basic principals of the ribbon drive, and its predecessors, in an introductory university class. it was required, and though he initially had little interest in the subject, the complexity and vastness of the subject had piqued his interest. only enough to get an average grade, though, as it turned out.

in any case, he remembered the basics of the process. dry, which was a generally inert substance, split its atoms vigorously when subjected to specific levels of heat and pressure and combined with chilled water. water, of all things. despite its mundane combustion process, its combustion results were unmatched. when burned this way, dry burned, if it indeed could be said to burn at all, quickly and furiously, and was therefore not suitable for applications such as, for example, powering a city or even running a spaceship under normal conditions. however, the ribbon drive, since it did all the things Devers had indicated, required massive amounts of power to be expended for a brief period of time.

the acceleration that Issac was now experiencing was necessary to reduce the total amount of consumption to a minimum. dry was expensive, and storing it required cubic meters that were, for an ordinary spacecraft, at a premium. once all the calculations had been made, a point was chosen to create the ribbon in time-space, and the drive, powered by the powdery substance known as dry, created a rift through which a ship could pass. if opening the rift, or ribbon, as it was known, required massive amounts of energy, keeping it open demanded even more. further, once the ship passed a certain point, the angle between the ship and the outer edges of the rift became too obtuse, and the drive could no longer keep the ribbon stable. at that point, the rift would begin to collapse on its own; the universe was naturally self-healing. if the aft half of a ship were on one side of the ribbon when it closed, and the fore half on the other, the aft half would remain exactly where it was while the second half slipped into the wormhole. the fore half would likely not be able to re-emerge from the hole unless it could self-sufficiently power the ribbon drive, and would be caught forever outside of space and relative time until perhaps someday when it chanced through a naturally or otherwise occurring ribbon — these portholes did create themselves sometimes, Issac knew, but rarely, and always unpredictably. either way, in most cases, the sectioning of the ship into fractions destroyed all systems and killed all passengers. as such, it was important that the ribbon be opened wide enough so that the time between the ship’s inability to stabilize the rift and the rift’s closing was long enough for this craft to pass wholly.

“are we still oriented to the Dulvernian axis?” Devers asked. all humans and all forms of quasi- and semi-intelligent life have an intrinsic sense of up and down, left and right. in space of course, the absolutes created by gravity and polar magnetics on planets did not exist. for maneuvering in space, however, it was useful to accept the orientation of the nearest planet as one’s guide. if all others in the area used the same guide, they could much more easily communicate with each other. if two ships were on a collision course, they should be able to say, one to the other, “you go up and i’ll go down,” and thus be able to avoid each other. in this case, Dulvern’s axis provided “up” and “down” for ships in its vicinity.

Jaymon answered, “yes, sir.”

“at what angle will the ribbon be opening,” Devers asked.

“ninety seven point three four, sir,” came the reply.

“ah,” Devers said more softly and to Issac. “so we’ll be flying into this one sideways.” he sat back more completely, and he intended to say no more. a faint smile spread across his lips. it was obvious that despite his frequent jumps, he had not really taken one in quite some time.

the accelerative effects increased noticeably, but not uncomfortably. unlike the departure from Dulvern, Issac felt a bit of excitement. a significant amount of it, actually, he allowed himself to admit against his usual stance of deliberate dispassion.

suddenly, Issac saw something. it was on the view screen, he knew, but somehow outside of it at the same time. and for a moment, the nature of what he saw was as transparent as the atmosphere of an airless world. he saw his life transpire in a moment — a phenomenon that was supposed to occur to some in the instant of their death. he knew this was pure fantasy, obviously, as no one could have reported such an experience, but for a moment he believed that he saw it. there was a growing radiance, and it was a blue-white that perplexed Issac. it was blue, to be sure. blue, he saw, like the lake by his fathers’ house, the one where he had moved in his teenage years shortly after his mothers’ passing, the one where he learned hate. and blue like Leah’s eyes, the ones that had looked deeply into his when she said “yes,” the ones where he had learned love. at the same time, and without contradicting these truths, it was white, pure, unadulterated white. white like the flash of raw light at the end of his recurring dreams, the ones where he learned death.

whatever color it was, or wasn’t, or was and was not simultaneously, it split his vision vertically and inexorably. “adjusting angle,” Pert announced, and Issac was instantly aware that for the passed seconds he had been completely oblivious to the crew and even the ship. Pert touched a dial and abruptly, the rift swung ninety degrees counterclockwise, and continued to grow.

“approach!” Pert shouted. then, “retraction!” the ribbon had continued to grow, encompassing the cockpit’s screen almost entirely. then, for a moment, Issac thought he saw the fiery edges of the rift retreat. before they could do so greatly, however, the Lathan Devers plunged into the white-blue heart of the rift and entered the wormhole.

*

Issac sat upright in his bed, the thin blanket issued to every passenger of the Lathan Devers tucked loosely around his shoulders. the bulge of his knees under the grey blanket protruded to his chin, and his elbows jutted out laterally under the colorless cover as his fists clasped between his shins. he breathed heavily, taking in gasps just short of panic breaths. the door to his quarters slid open with a wisp, and Gamne, without looking back, exited his room.

she stepped out into the corridor and the door closed almost silently behind her. she stood still for a moment in the ship’s quiet hum, her eyes closed. she ran her hands down the sides of her slim ribcage, pressing out the wrinkles in her black tank top. she breathed in deeply, said, “shit,” almost inaudibly. her eyes opened.

the ship fretted subtly in its exit from the wormhole. either she had underestimated the time that the Lathan Devers would spend out of time-space or the moments themselves, moments that passed differently inside the ship while it was outside of space than had passed elsewhere in the galaxy’s regular time-space, had transpired more rapidly than she had anticipated. in either case, she needed to be back on the bridge about thirty seconds ago, and a moment later she was.

“what the fuck?” was her greeting as she stepped onto the bridge. Devers was irate.

“sorry,” was her quiet response as she walked quickly towards her seat without making eye contact.

“i tried calling your quarters,” Pert said sharply.

again, “sorry,” was her only response. she sat down and began tapping at her controls rapidly.

“Gamne, mass contacts,” Devers demanded. she hesitated, attempting to gather data as quickly as possible. she scanned a display in front of her, manipulating and altering its readings with keystrokes and hand movements. her fingers swept across the touchscreen, and she saw a three-dimensional summary of the surrounding space as quickly as the ship’s instruments could detect them. “now,” Devers shouted.

“uh, planet, type one; distance, point nine-seven parsecs. star, g-type; distance, 2.1 parsecs. we’re in the Klinian system.”

“i know that,” Devers said with irritation. “close contacts?”

“scanning,” she said.

“Syry, any radio contact?” Devers inquired.

“we’re receiving automated informational communication from Klinian satellites. no direct contact of yet.” Syry was serious, a marked difference from his usual demeanor. Devers knew Syry well, and situations like this were about the only ones where his communications officer was not his normally bubbly self. it was the only time he was not laughing constantly.

“Gamne?” Devers said.

“scopes are clear.” the captain began to speak, but Gamne cut in. “wait, captain. one contact. small. not ribbon capable. twenty-five thousand kilometers.”

“course?”

a brief pause. “it’s headed straight for us. closing rapidly.”

the captain snapped his fingers. “Syry!”

“yes, sir.” Syry began scanning for short-range frequencies.

“the energy signal is unknown, captain,” Gamne reported briskly. she was working furiously at her controls now. “it’s accelerating. wait, something’s happening. it’s…dividing.”

“what?” the captain barked.

“it’s…they must have been in linear formation. three – no, seven contacts, sir. vee formation.”

“Pert, alter course by z-21 x-minus-five.”

“sir,” Pert responded.

“they’re turning to follow us, captain.” Gamne said, the tension rising in her voice.

the captain swore. “Syry, anything?”

“i’m not getting any frequencies near their position, sir. i’m broadcasting a request, but no one’s listening.”

Devers face formed itself into a hard scowl. “pirates,” he muttered sharply.

“i don’t think so, sir,” Gamne interjected. “they knew we were coming. they were in an i-formation headed straight for us. and they’re local.”

“security?” Devers asked.

“doubtful,” Syry answered. “it is procedure for all Klinian security vessels to hail arrivals before engaging.”

“whoever they are, they’re accelerating,” Pert said.

“distance now fifteen-thousand kilometers,” Gamne reported.

“can we outrun them?” Devers asked Pert hurriedly.

“i don’t think so, sir. they’re near our maximum speed and still accelerating.”

“how quickly can you plot a jump out of here? doesn’t have to be far — even to the edge of the Klinian system.”

“i…i…” Pert stammered.

“how long?” the captain demanded sharply.

“sir, we’re too close to Klin, and the computer hasn’t refigured for our current position. it knows where the other planets are — there are five of them further from the star than Klin — but it has to reorganize for where we are now. and at this range, Klin’s gravity is going to affect the wormhole dramatically. it’s possible, but it would take calculation.”

Devers thought for a split second, then said, “this isn’t a fight i want. seven against one, and we know nothing about them. set full thrust directly away from them and begin those calculations. and hurry, Jaymon. i don’t want them getting within seeker or c-ray range.”

“yes sir,” Pert said dubiously. he didn’t think it could be done — the calculations were too complicated. they would be complicated even if the ship was stationary and he had time, but they were moving and he had no time. opening a ribbon this close to so many massive objects — predominantly Klin, but even the other planets and the system’s sun — with incorrect calculations could be fatal.

Pert slammed the ship into full acceleration and began assaulting with his fingers the terminal that programmed the jumps. he glanced at Gamne’s screen, and could see the seven ships, flying in attack formation, closing quickly.

Devers punched the intercom button on left armrest of his chair. “Issac,” he said firmly, “report to the bridge immediately. we’re going to have to make another jump in just a few moments.” he clicked the intercom off and did not expect or wait for a response. to Gamne, he said, “any more data on those ships?”

“they’re definitely fighters, sir. their energy signatures suggest active maneuvering jets, and heat plumes indicate powered weapons. the computer doesn’t recognize the weapon types, though. and there’s something else.”

“yes?” Devers asked impatiently.

“i’m not reading any life forms on the ships. it could be that the hulls are blocking our scanners, but at this range it should be obvious how many people are on each ship. i’m not reading anything.”

Devers frowned. drones? he felt confident he could hold his own against an entire unit of drone vessels. the computers could react more quickly and execute more precisely than a human pilot; that much was true. but he knew a few tricks that computers wouldn’t — couldn’t think of. and given the risk of making a jump at such short notice… but what were those weapon signatures? there was a difference between daring and recklessness, and Devers knew the distinction well. never fight a battle you don’t know you can win, he always thought. a corollary of this axiom was that unknowns needed to be reduced to an absolute minimum before engaging hostile ships. to be sure, there was no way to eliminate unknowns completely, but not knowing even the nature of the enemy’s weapons…

and then their nature became known. or at least known enough. the seven attack drones emitted brilliantly white beams that joined at a single moving point in space from their several sources. the point grew into a ball, a throbbing sphere of energy. jagged bolts twisted outward into space as the ball grew. Devers was not positive that what he saw was indeed what he thought it was, but he was confident enough to risk everything to avoid what would happen next.

“Pert,” he shouted, “get us in a wormhole now!”

“sir—“ Jaymon began, but his objection was cut short.

“if you don’t get us out of here, we’re all dead. now!”

the orb of light had ceased its growing, and hesitated for a moment, trembling in an unstable fury. the drones stayed in perfect formation, combining their energies into a terrible locus. suddenly, the energy compressed into an awesomely radiant pinhead of space before exploding outward into a translucent white cascade of power.

“Gamne, give me a distance on that explosion,” the captain ordered.

“ten thousand kilometers,” she said, her voice shrill.

the door opened behind Devers and Issac stepped into the room.

“what–“ Issac began, but stopped when he saw the tidal wave of light racing toward the ship.

“Jaymon, goddam it!” Devers screamed. the white light enveloped the drones, which no longer fed the weapon, and they did not falter, still mindlessly pursuing the Lathan Devers. “Gamne!”

“five thousand!”

“oh, christ,” Jaymon said as he pressed the final button in the last sequence of keystrokes to engage the ribbon drive. “this is it!”

the drive cut open a slice of space in front of the ship, but the viewscreen still showed the sternward view. the light was nearly upon them now. “two thousand kilometers,” Gamne yelled.

“approach,” the pilot shouted.

“eight hundred kilometers!”

Devers stood up from his chair, hands on his head, mouth agape. he stared at the view screen, now completely enveloped in white. the light filled the cockpit. Issac believed for a moment that he was in the heart of a star.

“retraction!” Jaymon reported, and suddenly the light was gone. in its place was the black-blue shimmer of the wormhole’s inner wall. there was a collective sigh on the bridge, and for a moment no one spoke. the ship was quiet and still. Devers stared at the screen, nearly stupefied. the only sound was Issac’s panting.

a moment passed, and Devers regained his composure. he cleared his throat. “Jaymon?”

“yes, sir,” Pert answered.

“where are we going?”

the pilot considered for a moment before answering. “i’m…not sure, sir. i tried to set a course towards the edge of the solar system, but with the gravitational complexity–“

“how long will we be in here?” the captain asked. Issac’s eyes darted back and forth between the two. he was still unsure what he had just witnessed, and equally unsure about what was happening right now.

Pert sighed his response. “i don’t know.”

Devers sat down in the captain’s chair. he rested his chin in his palm for a moment. he breathed deeply and allowed himself to consider what menace they had avoided only barely. what it was called, he did not know. it had required a large amount of energy to fire. he supposed that a single ship capable of discharging it would have been too large, too slow and too unmaneuverable to pursue a smaller ship singly. thus the drones, coordinated with the precision of an elaborate computerized matrix, each contributed to the weapon, each a smaller jigsaw of the larger puzzle. and the explosion had not damaged the drones. in fact, Devers had watched it pass right through them. so it was not explosive force. neither was it electromagnetic force. that would have at least disabled the ships, even while leaving their hulls intact. no, this new devilry destroyed only one thing: life.

Issac’s pulse was racing still, and though they seemed to be out of immediate danger, he still felt terrified. he looked at Gamne. her dark features were bent around her controls, but her eyes stared blankly at them. she did not move. her jaw was tense. it seemed to Issac completely incongruous that earlier in this same hour she had been in his quarters, and had been there without clothes.

“well,” the captain said heavily, “well done, Jaymon. at least you got us out of–“

he had not finished his compliment when the pilot’s failings, understandable and forgivable though they may be, manifested themselves violently. before anyone aboard the Lathan Devers could react, the ship had been expelled from the wormhole, spat out into real space. only they weren’t really in space, as such: they were in an atmosphere.

immediately, the ship began to shake violently as gravity and air resistance took hold of it. Devers knew exactly what was happening. he had considered the possibility before hand; Pert had as well. as Jaymon had said several times, the calculations were rough at best, and it was not surprising that the gravity of a nearby planet, Klin in this case, had warped the path of the wormhole directly towards itself. for a split second, Devers was thankful that they hadn’t entered real space in the planet’s mantle. as undesirable as air was, it was still better than molten rock and metal.

Issac remained frozen, but the crew sprang into action. in a flash, Issac was pushed out of the bridge and was being forced into a small room whose door he had not noticed before. “when the door closes,” the captain was saying as he shoved a stunned and bewildered Issac into the pod, “the light will turn from red to green. when it’s green, hit it. you’ll float down to the surface. we’ll try to land the ship and find you. if we can’t…” Devers paused for a split second. the ship had begun to spin, and the artificial gravity generators were failing under the authority of mass and inertia. the captain looked squarely into Issac’s eyes. for the first time since Issac had boarded the ship, and for the first time in many, many years, Issac saw in those eyes a deep and honest love.

“godspeed, kid.” and the door closed with a rush. through the small porthole, a dumbfounded Issac watched Devers turn away and sprint back to the bridge. he heard a hiss above the rattling of the ship’s hull, and guessed that the escape pod was compressing…or decompressing; he wasn’t sure which process was needed to send him safely into the air.

the hiss died, and he watched the light in front of him click from a bright red to an equally vibrant green. the smooth, palm-sized surface of the light suggested its dual use as a button, and Issac reached out his hand towards it. he inhaled fully, closed his eyes, and prepared himself for what he was sure would be a massive jolt. but the jolt happened before he pressed the button. his eyes flicked open. there was a hole where the left half of the hall outside the escape pod had been. daylight shone in, a dizzying whirl of clouds and…were those mountains? most of the ship was still there, from what Issac could see, but an entire chunk of the hull had separated from the catastrophic descent.

a rational part of Issac’s brain took over then, overwhelming for a moment his panic and utter confusion. it told him that no matter what was happening to the ship, his best chance of survival was to eject. and his own survival was the only matter he could concern himself with now. his rationality told him that he could not help Devers, or Gamne, or even Pert and Syry. Issac agreed, and reached out his hand for the button again. he closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and prepared for an event unlike any other experience he’d had in his short life.

then he heard a voice. a real voice.

“Issac!” it screamed. he heard a pounding, too, a sound that was somehow distinct from the twisting metal of the ship’s hull. his eyes snapped open again.

it was Gamne. her face was pressed up against the small porthole on the escape pod.

“oh christ!” she screamed. “let me in! god, let me in!”

Issac’s eyes moved frantically. he saw only one button before him, the green one, and knew its purpose. he had seen Devers open the door from the outside, but it occurred to him now that he had no idea how to open the door from the inside. he knew there had to be a way, and he ran his hands uselessly up and down the sides of the door. all these thoughts transpired in the time it took him to scream: “Gamne!”

for a split second, their eyes met. hers outside, his within. the world began to shatter around her. she mouthed his name. her lips moved, and in that moment he longed for them. he longed for her to enter the escape pod and float gently to Klin’s surface with him.

but he could not save her.

another portion of the hull disintegrated behind her. an air current reached out invisible fingers and dragged her away. she shrieked noiselessly. Issac stopped breathing. then he did what his reason told him.

he pressed the button, and the world spun and drained into darkness. the next sensation he was aware of was as simple as it was painful.

heat.