Really Really Really Big (part 3)
"Maggie!" I could see his round face light up, even under all the graying facial hair. With his classic Terran captain's cap in his hand, his unruly bangs spilled unevenly over his forehead. "Come give me a hug!"
It was an invitation I couldn't resist. When my father vanished so many years ago, it was Irwin who came to my rescue.
"It's a law of space," he'd told me in his deep, grave voice, "that ship captains look out for each other and their kin." He wasn't my Dad, but he was close enough. He would always be my Captain. I jumped into his arms.
There was something new on his uniform.
"You've gotten a promotion, Captain!" There was significantly more silver and blue tufted braid than there had been the last time I'd seen him. "Or, should I say Admiral!"
The Armas have a thing for flash and panache, and it shows in their uniforms and their ships. I stepped back to admire. His under-jumpsuit was trim and sharp, dark blue, with narrow lines of pale luminescent cerulean outlining both sides of his body. His blazer was electric white, almost glowing in intensity. His shoulders were covered in braid, shimmering and flashing with every movement. There were three rings of silver at each cuff, sartorially handsome and also integrated into the command controls of the ship. Irwin could move his hands in choreographed movements through the air on his bridge and the ship would respond. Very chic.
There were also more ribbons and medals on his chest, too. I pointed to a new decoration, fuzzy, fluorescent pink, and oval.
"Let me guess, rescuing a wealthy widow from a dishonorable loss at shuffleboard?" I smiled up at him, like I'd done when I was seven and adorable.
"More like surviving the scathing barbs of a notable scoundrel of space who's on temporary leave of her own ship." He smiled right back at me. I hugged him again. It had been too long.
"So?" I admit it. "Why did you want to know how long Vortex was going to be here?"
"Why don't we take a little ride, and I'll show you." The spacedock facility at the L-5 point trailing the Armas homeworld is one of the largest humanoid constructs in known Coterie space. Over the centuries of Armas shipbuilding, it has grown, almost organically, into an irregular honeycomb of steel, polymer, habitat space, and ship berth nearly a hundred kilometers across.
To get from one end to the other, you have to take the subway. Three transfers later, Irwin had still said little of substance, frustrating me at every turn about our destination.
"Do you believe in Fate?" he asked, as he allowed an optical sensor to scan him at an unobtrusive exit from our last subway station. We faced a thick, reinforced door, with none of the viewports mandated by safety regulations.
"Only the Fate we make for ourself."
"Identified," moaned the door, in a deep, slow voice typical of the Armas. "Welcome back, High Admiral Irwin Allen Smith, First Captain of the Armas Starship Really Really Really Big. A shuttle is standing by for your use." The door opened politely.
"I used to think that too, until this." He ushered me in. We were standing in a transparent bubble, high on the interior wall of a giant ovoid chamber easily a kilometer across. Light units and scaffolding were tethered against the interior walls, resting after a long construction effort.
I barely noticed them.
The ship was breathtakingly beautiful. Elegant and simple, it was an ocean wave frozen in titanium and crystalline composites. Its curves swept along in pristine symmetries of power and grace.
Irwin placed his fingers softly on my shoulder. I heard him sigh, gently. We both stared at the ship for several minutes, hypnotized by its sheer sweet artistry of form and function.
"This is the hand of Fate, Maggie." He smiled wryly. "The Armas and several other races have worked for three year-cycles designing and building the Really Really Really Big."
"Will it fly?" There are limits to what works in hyperspatial travel, strictly defined by mathematics. Mass and geometry control what can slip across dimensions and travel beyond the speed of light. It's not a question of energy. We can throw all the excess power generated by a ship's reactor into the engines, and it just doesn't matter. It's like trying to accelerate something to the speed of light in normal space. Once you reach the limits, you're stuck. A hyperspatial field can only be so big, and can only take so much mass.
Irwin was quiet, intently studying the curves of the immense ship waiting in the vacuum beyond.
"I don't think I've ever seen a ship so big before. Are you sure it's safe?"
He didn't turn from the view.
"It will fly," he said, barely above a whisper. "The designers have worked the computations to their satisfaction. They've pulled out all the stops, run thousands of simulations, shaved every curve." His voice wavered.
"You don't sound completely convinced."
"Maggie, you know the risks as well as anyone." There was no uncertainty in that statement. Hyperspatial mathematics are extremely complex. There are weird boundary conditions to the equations, with chaotic edges that produce unexpected results. The history of faster-than-light space travel contains a litany of bizarre events triggered by the strangenesses of hyperspatial mechanics.
"That's part of the reason I want you here. You have more direct experience with difficult situations than anyone else I know." He looked directly at me. "Well, except for yours truly." His toothy grin beamed. "My crew is great, but they're a luxury crew, more concerned with the comforts of the passengers."
"And you knew I'd be here with the Vortex of Chaos."
"And I knew you'd be here. Again, Fate." He spit out the last words, clear, concise, seemingly inevitable.
"You keep saying that. Why?"
"Look at her. She is the marvel of her age, a ship unsurpassed in size, speed, and technology."
"So? The Armas have chosen the best to command her."
"Yes, Admiral Smith," he said, his voice tinged with irony, "a captain from a long line of ship captains and explorers. Do you know that I can trace my lineage back to Earth itself, a line of Smiths reaching back centuries? Command runs in our blood, including the lines of Smiths that died out."
"Died out? Irwin, what in a black hole are you talking about?"
"Run the damn ship name through your typical translator. The Armas were the senior partners in the project. They got to name her - and you know how the Armas love their grandiose adjectives and unrivaled hyperbole. This ship was designed to catch the attention of everyone in the Coterie. And you know the Armas, they're almost superstitious in their beliefs. Once they name something, it stays named. I couldn't convince them to change - and it all means the same damn thing. The incredible Armas 'Really Really Really Big' commanded by Smith; the legendary unsinkable RMS Titanic, commanded by Smith, a distant relative, on a very dead branch of my family tree. Any wonder why I feel like I have Fate looking down over my shoulder?"
"And you want me on board?" I looked him directly in the eye. "Thanks!" I stretched the word out to four or five sarcasm-filled syllables.
He just stared out at his ship, lost in thought. He did not speak for several moments.
"I am determined that history is not repeated," he whispered, each word clearly spoken. "I have taken the engineers back to their design simulations to replace unnecessary extravagances with extra safety equipment. I've made sure that the systems are at least triply redundant, if not more so. We carry extra lifepods, with supplies sufficient for an extended duration. I even had the design team rip out the lagoon running the length of the Leo Deck in order that we could afford additional structural integrity enhancements to the hull." His voice trailed off.
"They said I was crazy. They said my precautions were excessive."
"But they made them anyway, didn't they?"
"I wouldn't take command if they didn't."
"You should feel great - they listened."
"So why," he sighed, "do I feel like it's not enough?"