8
“Your Highness, we need to spend a couple of days refueling in this system,” Captain Drago said as they shot into their eleventh new star system.
“You think so?” Kris answered.
“That last jump dropped the Wasp’s reaction tanks to below half-full, Kris,” the captain said. “I’d like to orbit a gas planet and have the courier ships do some cloud dancing.”
This was no surprise; they’d done it a week ago after the fifth jump. Every ship in the fleet needed reaction mass for acceleration and deceleration. Ships like the Wasp and the battleships, even the freighters, weren’t designed for the knocking around that came while trawling for fuel in the upper atmosphere of gas giants.
“Pick a big one and make it happen, Skipper. Once we’ve refueled the fleet, I want to dispatch one of the couriers back home to bring them up to date. All we’ve got to tell so far is a lot of nothing, but I suspect they’d like to know that.”
“We were lucky last time and only took two days, Princess. It could take longer this time.”
“I don’t have a problem, Captain. Whatever is out there will still be out there when we’re ready.”
A gas giant wasn’t too far from their jump point. The fleet decelerated toward it at 1.3 gees.
Kris was on the bridge as they approached orbit. The Mercury had already deployed a balloot and was dropping away for its first run at skimming the outer atmosphere of the planet.
At Sensors, Chief Beni shook his head. “There’s something wrong with my instruments,” he muttered.
“That would be unusual,” Kris said.
“Yes, and I’ve checked them. I can’t find anything wrong with them, but this can’t be right?”
“What can’t be right?” The chief now had Captain Drago’s attention.
“There are eleven decent-sized moons around this puppy. According to my readouts, they have wobbled a smidge farther away from the planet than they were just after we came through the jump.”
“They are in unstable orbits?” the captain said.
“If what I’m reading is right, they sure are. It’s not a lot, but then, we’ve only been observing them for a few hours. Let me check with the boffins. Just a minute.”
Kris was at her usual station, Weapons. She’d brought it up more out of habit than any expectation of a shoot. She doublechecked her board; all four of the Wasp’s 24-inch pulse lasers were locked and loaded.
“Hey,” the chief looked up in surprise. “One of the moons has a hot spot.”
“A volcano?” Kris asked.
“Maybe,” the chief muttered, his eyes studying his board. “What’s this? A bit of electromagnetic activity as well?”
“Talk to me, Chief,” the captain said.
“It just showed up as the moon’s rotation brought it into view. I’m on it, sir.”
“Stay on it, Chief.”
“I’ve got Professor mFumbo calling me. Could someone else take the call?” the chief said, not breaking concentration.
“I’ve got it,” Kris said. “Bridge here, Professor. We’re kind of busy just now.”
“I am answering Chief Beni’s call about these damnable orbits. Yes, all the moons orbiting this gas giant are dancing a very strange polka.”
“Any ideas why?” Kris asked.
“No idea. I’ve never heard of this happening before. It’s as if this giant used to have a lot more mass and lost it, and now its gravitational hold on its moons is adjusting to the sudden weight loss.
Captain Drago scowled at the forward screen. The Mercury was about to take away some more of the planet’s mass as it filled its balloot with gases that would be transferred to the ships of the fleet to use as reaction mass for their fusion reactors. The fleet would need a lot of mass to refuel.
Still, what they removed would hardly matter to something as big as this gas giant and its moons. Kris took a deep breath as she considered what kind of force could make such a difference.
“Chief, talk to me about that hot spot,” Captain Drago said.
“Nelly, pass all that we’ve gotten to the fleet,” Kris told her computer.
“Kris, I’ve been doing that. The other ships of the fleet have a lot of science aboard, too. Our data is just verifying what the other are concluding, as well. The Haruna has gone to General Quarters.”
“Pass the word to PatRon 10. General Quarters, Guns. Unknown cause.”
“Done, Kris.”
On the Wasp, the General Quarters’ Klaxon began to sound.
“We’re the closest to that moon, Captain Drago,” Kris said. “Would you close on it, please.”
Of all the ships in PatRon 10, only the Wasp had a contractor for a captain. He was older, more experienced, more mature. He drew his check from Admiral Crossenshield’s black-ops funds. He was here, Kris didn’t doubt, at King Raymond’s specific order to see that Kris didn’t do any of the damn fool stunts that he and Grampa Trouble had done before they reached old age.
Someday, she expected he would countermand one of her orders. She waited to see if today would be that day.
“Sulwan, put us closer to that unknown event,” he ordered.
“Aye, aye, sir,” the navigator replied.
So, not today, huh.
“Your Highness, the Intrepid is nearby,” Captain Drago observed.
“Yes, right,” Kris said, properly instructed. “Nelly, invite the Intrepid to join us in this little side trip.
“Done, Kris.”
On the screen, two dots broke from the strung-out line of ships still decelerating, aiming for a lower orbit of the giant. The Wasp and Intrepid, however, stretched their vectors to match the high orbit of the moon in question.
“Can somebody give me an idea of what we’re heading into before we actually ram that damn moon?” the captain snapped.
“It’s a rocky planetoid with no iron core. Its surface is a cold mix of vapors, some water, some methane, lots of crud,” the chief said. “Liquid, not gas. I don’t think there are any lakes; the moon’s surface looks pretty rough.”
“We boffins concur,” Professor mFumbo said.
“One small spot is showing hot,” the chief went on after a hasty breath. “I’m trying to get a visual, but that heat seems to be steaming off the volatiles. Radar . . .” He paused. “Radar isn’t coming back. Something’s driving our radar nuts.”
“Active or passive?” Kris and Captain Drago said at the same time.
“I can’t tell. I’ve got some sort of electromagnetic crap coming from there, but it’s not organized like anything I’ve ever seen.”
“Can you laser range it, get a picture that way?” Kris asked.
“I’m lasing it.”
“Nope, nothing,” he said a moment later. “Laser can’t get through the vapors.”
“Is there a gravity well?” Kris asked.
Every mass sets up its own gravity well. The very sensitive atom laser on the Wasp, designed to track twitchy jump points, was the most sensitive instrument for measuring variations in that weakest of the four natural forces. Weakest, but most important. Just ask any two-year-old trying to defy gravity with each step.
“Checking,” the chief said. A long moment later, he nodded. “There’s something solid there. There’s definitely more mass under that hot spot than there is in the rest of the moon.”
For fifteen long minutes, the rest of the fleet decelerated into lower orbit and went about beginning the process of refueling. Meanwhile, the Wasp and Intrepid cut back on their deceleration and swept toward a much higher orbit, one that would take them on a quick flyby of the mystery-shrouded moon.
Sulwan, good navigator that she was, guessed before Kris asked her that she’d like to know if they could transform their present course into an orbit around the moon. “Even decelerating at 3.5 gee, that option is already gone. We’ll need at least one orbit to match that moon. Maybe two if I miss a window.”
They were halfway to the moon when the chief announced, “Something is lifting off from our target moon. Whoever they are, they’re coming straight at us.”