Exodus, page 31
“Yeah. Damn, three-point-eight light-years in forty-five hours!”
“Only in ship elapsed time. For everyone on Gondiar, it’ll be three-point-eight years.”
“Then another three-point-eight years back.”
“Plus the time we spend at Terrik Papuan. Realistically we’re going to be away for eight years.”
“Long time.”
“Only for those we leave behind. Maybe a couple of months for us.”
An expression of uncertainty flickered across her face. “That’s…I’m still getting used to that idea.”
“Why?” he asked, genuinely curious. “The Diligent’s flight time was only a few centuries for everyone on board. But you’ve been flying for forty thousand years.”
“Perception,” she said bleakly. “We had no reference point. But this…When we get back to Gondiar, I’ll be able to see. I’ll know what I’ve missed out on.”
“Regrets?”
“Dunno. I’ll let you know in eight years. That’s if we make it back.”
“Hey, if it helps, the Gift of Passage will be launched in a minute. Asteria will look after us.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Right, big help.”
“Don’t knock it.” He held up his thumb, which still had a fleck of dried blood on it where Tabia Enfoe, the Lestari’s first officer, had jabbed it. The Gift was a ritual followed by every Traveler ship. Each person on board complied, contributing a drop of their blood, which was flash heated to leave nothing but a few specks of dust. All of them were loaded into a small glass phial together, which was fired into the Gate of Heaven ingress aperture just before the ship itself went in. It was an offering, proof that the crew revered the Goddess Asteria and wished to thank her for the gift of starflight she and her Elohim had given the Centauri Cluster.
“Still can’t believe we did that,” Ellie said in bemusement. “Of all the places in the galaxy, people here still worship a deity. You just said the Celestials are the gods.”
“I think it’s mostly a human thing,” Finn told her. “Our veneration of Asteria grew up from the belief that it was she who sent the Green Worlds signal. After all, you followed that signal here, right? If that isn’t an act of faith I don’t know what is.”
“It was basic practicality. We hadn’t yet found a habitable world when we received the Green Worlds signal.”
“The signal brought you to me,” he said.
“Aww.” She kissed him.
“If you want to know more, Basyl Enfoe is the Lestari’s pastor as well as our Remnant artifact evaluator officer,” Finn said. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to explain the doctrines.”
“Not a chance. Wait, do you believe in her?”
“Asteria? Not sure.”
“Agnostic, huh? I thought you said all Travelers believe in her?”
“They do.”
“So that’s a dilemma for you.”
He grinned awkwardly. “Certainly is. Do you know what Captain Uzoma would’ve done to you or me if we’d refused to donate our blood to the Gift?”
“No.”
“SDE.”
“What’s that?”
“Spontaneous direct egress. Basically: straight out the airlock—with a spacesuit if you’re lucky.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No. So, delicate subject around our shipmates, yeah?”
“Hell. Yeah, okay, I’ll watch my mouth,” she said grumpily.
Finn twisted around until he was looking out of the cupola’s aft-facing window. The Lestari’s engine section loomed over the cylindrical life support module, which was only sixty meters long and fixed at right angles to the thrust axis. When they came on board, Uzoma had told them it was an ancient Celestial spaceship fuel tank. With its shell made from an ultrabonded ceramic material, it was orders of magnitude stronger than any human-manufactured hull could be, impervious to microparticle impacts. The internal decking and systems were all built and installed by one of the Enfoe family’s astroengineering companies at High Rosa. It was encased in a gridwork of tough girders, allowing it to handle a massive stress load between the ship’s trio of blunt cargo attachment pads at the front and the engineering section above the main engines.
The bulky reaction drive section he could see comprised twin direct linear fusion rockets—tubes two hundred meters long and forty wide, salvaged by Uta Enfoe himself eighty years ago from a wrecked Celestial ship adrift in the HeSea beyond Tinaja. They were capable of supplying more than eighteen thousand tons of thrust each. The Lestari only massed four thousand tons, so they were rarely used at full power until they were docked with a high-mass cargo; the nine-gee acceleration they produced would wreck any human body if it was exposed for more than a few seconds. Talk on board during the flight out to the Gate of Heaven had featured the Lestari’s dramatic high-gee escapes from Remnant worlds and hostile ships. Finn reckoned about one story in five was plausible.
Right now, the Lestari was nudging in toward the Gate of Heaven’s ingress end at a tenth of a gee, the thrust coming from its secondary (human-built) drive: eight ion thrusters spaced around the engineering section, powered by ancillary fusion generators. He could just see the gossamer cataracts of their exhaust plumes fluttering out aft. After the white-giant blaze of the main engines, they seemed pitiful.
When they left High Rosa, Finn had been surprised by how wide the plasma plume flared behind them; he’d expected it to be a slim ultra-intense jet like most Celestial ships produced.
“Yeah, but this is what we’ve got,” Okimi-Sal Enfoe said dismissively when Finn pointed that out. He was Uzoma’s son, and the technician in charge of the Lestari’s fusion systems, which made him the closest thing the ship had to a main engine officer. His husband, Yoru Enfoe (the Lestari’s EVA technician), had laughed. “What he means is: he hasn’t got a clue how they work. Right, sweetheart?”
Okimi-Sal extended a middle finger. “Here, use Asteria’s anchor.”
“They’re Celestial,” Yoru continued. “So frankly we’re lucky some network grandmaster managed to rig an interface with their control circuits. All we can do is switch them on and off, and vary the thrust in five-percent increments. The biggest job my dearheart has is making sure the helium-three fuel feed pumps are working properly.”
“Sadly true,” Okimi-Sal admitted. “Honestly, we know as much about those two engines as we do ZPZ. Well, apart from them being the most expensive engines to run out of all the Enfoe starships. They drink He-three faster than Basyl chugs his beer at an open bar, may Asteria bless his soul.”
“But then we are a unique Enfoe ship,” Yoru said. “Which is why this flight is such a surprise. Gyvoy must have raided our Dynasty’s treasury to fund you.”
“What can I say?” Finn replied with false modesty. “I’m very important to your Dynasty.”
“That’s what they told me,” Toše said.
Gyvoy had insisted the security expert accompany them. “I’ve worked with Toše before,” he’d told them. “He’s got plenty of combat experience on planets and in microgee situations like the one you’re heading into.”
“You mean there’s going to be fighting?” Ellie had asked.
“Asteria, I hope not! This is supposed to be a quiet little collection mission. But that wreck is extremely valuable even if it didn’t have a ZPZ generator, so I want you to be prepared for any eventualities. You already have a ship that can high-gee you away from any trouble. Toše will cover your arse when you’re planetside on Terrik Papuan. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
It was obvious to Finn that Toše was someone who could handle himself. His personal proximity made Finn nervous at some fundamental level. He had Lidon bioware muscle grafts in his arms and legs, as well as long strands running up his rib cage: the kind of enhancement the people Finn had worked with back on Anoosha were always talking about acquiring for themselves. First impression was that he had serpents nesting under his skin. And there was something about his gaunt features that made him appear remote, not helped by the way one eye bulged out as if it was swollen from infection. When they rode up the orbital tower together, he’d proudly told them the eye was an ocular wasp; it could fly about on its own with a range of about a hundred meters, showing him what it could see. “Helps me find targets,” he’d explained.
“You have no idea the family politics involved in getting Uzoma to agree to this,” Okimi-Sal said. “And frankly, I still have no idea how Gyvoy got Uta’s backing. I mean, no disrespect here, Finn, but I saw the Diligent at High Rosa. It’s an amazing ship, but fitting it with a ZPZ generator? That’s crazy at an earthdragon level.”
“And yet, here we are.”
* * *
—
A rapid whistle sounded inside the Lestari’s life support module. It made Ellie flinch and quickly look around to the cupola’s hatch. Always check your exit route. Alarms were never a good sound on a spaceship; that was ingrained deep in her brain. She was instantly alert for the sound of escaping air.
“It’s about to shoot, look,” Finn said.
She followed where he was pointing. One of the turret-like nuggets of equipment on the life support module’s outer skin was swiveling around to line up on the incredible Gate of Heaven they were rushing toward. She still couldn’t get her head around the energy levels involved in the Elohim machine. The output of entire stars?
It happened almost too fast for the eye to catch. A tiny puff of gas from the turret, and a speck zipped out to vanish almost instantly.
“We send You all that we are, and ask you to grant us your protection in our flight, bountiful Lady,” Finn intoned.
“Bountiful Lady,” Ellie mumbled, completely unsure if she’d got that right. The whole idea was stupid; machines were as un-godly as possible. But then again, she didn’t fancy an SDE.
Finn gave her a tiny smile, which may or not have been a sheepish thank you. “Let’s get back inside,” he said.
She gave the Gate a final look before sliding down the ladder below the cupola’s hatch. The amazing glow of the nebula had almost vanished behind the Elohim artifact, easily an order of magnitude bigger than the largest asteroid habitat ever built at Sol. Ten million stars in the Centauri Cluster, most of them linked by these monsters. Yes, the universe really is stranger than imagination.
As soon as she dropped below the hatch, it slid shut. Finn was walking as quickly as he could in the low gravity. Ellie kept up with him without effort, making sure she didn’t laugh at his clumsiness. Amber lights came on along the corridor ceiling.
“Why couldn’t we stay in the cupola?” she asked. “Radiation from the Gate ingress?”
“No. It’s not a good place to be after…Er, people can suffer a kind of psychosis after a frame jump.”
“You’re kidding. What, no human brain can withstand the sight of hyperspace?”
“What’s a hyperspace?”
“Never mind.”
“Look, I shouldn’t have said ‘psychosis,’ sorry. That’s just how the gossip streams have it. But some people—not many, this is very rare—can experience a kind of dream state when they’re framed by ZPZ.”
“So you dream during the acceleration stage?”
“Well…Okay, technically every atom is inert when framed by ZPZ, but molecules still have vibration; it’s all to do with the energy conditions of the absolute zero state. Therefore a human brain is very slightly aware of time passing. It has been known—and I’m stressing how slight this is—to have an effect on a frame dreamer’s basic psychology.”
“What the hell do they dream?” she asked in alarm.
“Nobody quite knows. But you see, we’re not sure what time rate they dream in. Is it the few minutes we’re in ship time during ZPZ, and accelerating up to relativistic speed, or is it the months beyond the ship that pass out there in spacetime? There’s a disconnect, you see. Some people theorize that’s the source of the problem—that at some animal level, the brain perceives the difference, that the fabric of reality is twisting. Who knows how the subconscious reacts to that?”
They reached the deck’s small crew lounge, and Finn sat down hurriedly in one of the chairs.
Ellie stood over him, scowling. “And this is the time you choose to tell me? One minute before we ingress the Gate? I don’t even have time to get thrown off for heresy.”
“Sorry, sorry; I’m not used to people with a different cultural background. Everyone on Gondiar knows all about frame dreaming; we learn about it at primary school. And the way I explain basic things like that sounds like I’m talking down to a child.”
“Telling me my brain is about to sense the universe being ripped in half is not goddamn basic, Finn!”
“I’m sorry. Truly I am. There’s nothing else bad about Gate travel, I promise. Please sit down now.”
She glared at him for a long moment; his blatant discomfort was a small reward for his stupidity. “You realize I can’t back out now, don’t you?”
“Er…Yes. I didn’t think. But I would never deliberately back you into a corner. Look, I’m here, and my sense of self-preservation is huge. Millions of people—hell, hundreds of millions—are currently flying along Elohim pathways. It really is safe.” For a second he looked guilty. “A lot safer than flying relativistic in an arkship.”
Ellie scowled at him. “That was a low smartass comment.”
“I’m trying to put it into perspective.”
She continued to glare at him—although she reluctantly admitted it was a good equivalence. “You’re an idiot,” she said, and sat beside him. As she did, the Lestari’s acceleration faded away. She fastened the seat strap, holding herself into the cushioning, clenching her abs to conform to the seat’s profile.
“I’ll make it up to you, I swear,” Finn said urgently. “Flying on the Diligent is going to be the greatest adventure a human can have in the Centauri Cluster. We’re going to see wonders, Ellie. Just you wait.”
“Gate ingress in thirty seconds,” Captain Uzoma announced through the module’s PA. “If you’re not sitting down, get on your arses now, people. And may Asteria have mercy on us all.”
Ellie found herself mentally counting down. No preparation. She didn’t have the slightest idea if she should brace herself in case she started to frame dream, or clear her mind, or think of ice cream…
“Oh, and there will be some disorientation when we come out of ZPZ,” Finn said. “Just so you know. It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Uzoma’s voice announced: “Engaging ZPZ.”
Ellie saw Finn extending his arm, trying to reach her hand so he could grip it reassuringly. She opened her mouth to speak. Wait, if we don’t understand the stasis generator, how can you run functionality tests on it? Do Travelers even run functionality tests? Every tiny system on Diligent had diagnostic software analyzing it constantly. Is this like the fusion rocket tubes, you just hope it works when you press the on switch? Oh, craaaap—
Something odd happened. Not frightening or painful, just…not right. The lounge flicked into a much sharper resolution. Whatever she looked at was perfectly clear, as if she were only centimeters away. That was when she realized her eyeballs weren’t turning and focusing, but that it was her mind concentrating on the items that made them leap out of the background. Then somehow she saw darkness growing behind her field of perception. Light had become a shrinking sphere, its outer boundary rushing toward her at lightspeed, except it wasn’t lightspeed, not inside the relativistic ship where all energy functions were suspended.
Just as the collapsing bubble of photons closed around her, the lounge abruptly rematerialized behind it. Both images collided as they reached her. The surge in brightness from two wavefronts striking each other was intense, making her wince as she instinctively jerked back from it. “Whoa,” she gulped.
“That’s it,” Finn said, staring at her anxiously. “We’re done. We’re riding the quintessence line now. Are you okay?”
Ellie couldn’t help the nervous laugh that came out. “Holy crap!”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Well…no. This is my first time, too.”
She awarded him an eye roll.
“We’re flying relativistic between stars,” he said with childlike glee.
Ellie unclipped her seat strap, watching the ends float away. “And I’m not psychotic. Double win.”
“Yeah. I think I’m okay, too.”
“Finn.”
“Yeah?”
“You need to start telling me about all your cultural bases; everything Gondiar’s ten-year-olds have known all their lives, okay? If I already know it, I’ll tell you and we can move on to the next.”
“Right.”
“So, what’s obvious to you about this flight? Is the egress deceleration going to be the same experience as we’ve just had?”
“Sure, but we really need to be prepared for it.”
“In what way?”
“Well, we’re not sure when it’s going to happen.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No. Look, the ZPZ is the same as the fusion rockets. Switch on, switch off; that’s all the control we have. The egress Gate engages with the generator somehow, or there’s some kind of signal contained within the line of quintessence, which it senses, so when we’re the right distance away, it frames the Lestari again, and the Gate decelerates us.”
“Are you saying we don’t know where we are? We’re not navigating?”
“No. We’re flying along the line, okay, and we know roughly what our velocity is, and we know how far Kelowan and Terrik Papuan are apart, so we can work out approximately where we are. But…not exactly. It gives us a window when we know deceleration is going to happen and the ZPZ will kick in, but it’s about two or three hours long.”
