Really Really Really Big (part 5)
"Irwin, it's amazing." I ran my finger across the cool golden brass railing leading into the Leo observation deck. Great parabolic arcs of diamond-glass soared from the faintly luminous tiles of deep blue tessellating across the expansive floor. Rich, creamy-white Yansmar marblewood paneling surrounded the nearly-invisible windows that opened up to the pastel terrains of hyperspace. The shades and vortices outside were understated when compared to the shapes, sizes and outfits of those strolling the deck. From the four meter tall voS'trel, shimmering with iridescent purple feathers (its own), to the four meter long Dineril centipede, with oscillating yellow and silver feathers (not its own, glued on for fashion), everyone was dressed, coiffed, powdered and pressed for the occasion. All were tended by ornately uniformed stewards carrying delicacies from thirty worlds. "I think I know where most of the budget went."
"With some of the guests we have on board, we dare do no less. It's quite the social event in the Coterie."
"You look right at home." His uniform was positively scintillating, with sparkling reflections glinting from every extremity. Patches, ribbons and trim glowed of their own energies. He could never be lost in the dark in that uniform.
"So do you," he complimented. "Very chic."
"So I was told by your dresser, when he came to my cabin." I made sure to let him hear some of my exasperation. "That was a dirty trick, Irwin, making sure that all of my clothes were out 'being cleaned.'"
"Maggie, I apologize, but the dress you'd crammed into your flight bag just wouldn't do. I made sure the Armas had appropriate clothing put aboard for you. I don't get a chance to see you enough, and I wasn't about to not share this with you."
I tugged gently and carefully at one side, to make sure I wasn't about to fall out, as if there was much to fall out of. The fine silvery swirl wrapped around me wasn't designed to hide much, a shiny opaque fog just a few simple molecules thick. It's not that I'm a prude; I've been to too many worlds where nudity was the norm. I'm just used to jumpsuits - they're warm, typically stained with greasy lubricants, and protect me from the scrapes and sharp edges of some of the constrained corners in the engineering spaces of the Vortex of Chaos. The daring minimalism of material I was wearing now wouldn't protect me from any of the scrapes and sharp edges of the constrained corners of high Coterie society.
Fortunately, Irwin was very good at the social niceties. He knew all the proper titles and gestures. Many beings stopped us as we wandered around the circumference of the great deck. One was a behemoth of a being, jowled and round.
"Admiral," the being boomed, an imperative to stop clear in its commanding bass voice.
"Your Imperial Obesity." It was not a title I would have expected, even though it clearly fit. I just bowed. That seems to work for most rulers.
"If one looks out into the void..." The Monarch turned back to the vista outside. "...one sees patterns that remind one of the great Thunder Volley clouds of one's homeworld. One might think one is sailing into a storm. Is there sympathetic symbolism in this?"
"Your Heaviness, that is an astute observation." Again, the social niceties. Anyone who's ever scanned Carpenter's Hyperfield Mechanics would know that symbolism doesn't have anything to do with it.
Irwin carefully reached into his jacket pocket and slowly pulled out a small metallic pen. I noticed three beings of different species tense up nearby. You can always tell the security and protection types. Fast movement is always ill-advised in their presence, and Irwin was a master at keeping things calm, yet with style and a flourish.
Irwin traced the patterns of the terrain outside the window with his pen. Faint lines appeared on the diamond-glass pane, pale lavender strokes of illumination.
"You will note, Your Tonnage, that the storms form two sides of a rather narrow passage." Irwin's lines curved around the two cloud masses to form a rounded V. "This passage is known as the Straits of Robb. While appearing narrow and ominous, I can assure you that our navigators will keep us away from the energy turbulences at either side. It is tricky sailing, I admit, but it is also the fastest path for this leg of our voyage, by far. There will be no volleys of thunder."
"The Thunder Volley is a natural wonder of great power." Perhaps that's how the Monarch learned to speak, in the midst of one of those storms. He didn't seem to know any volume other than loud. "The Volleys bring terrible destruction. It is not wise to challenge such powers."
"They are respected, Your Weightiness." Irwin's pen drew a few lines leading away from the storm clouds, creating another V. "As you can see, we are already well into the mouth of the Straits, heading into the throat of the passage."
The Vortex and I have been through here before. It's a tight fit in some places, even for the much smaller Vortex. If Irwin thought the Really Really Really Big could get through, then he and his navigators had to have done their homework. They had slowed down a bit; that much was obvious to my trained eye.
"Perhaps Your Gravity would like to come up to the Bridge tomorrow, to see how carefully we make our passage?" His Gravity beamed; there are some places that even the largest of Monarchs is not normally allowed. Irwin handed him a gold embossed card, a rare official invitation.
The card fell to the floor, slipping from the Monarch's fingers as a silent shudder vibrated quickly through the room. It went unnoticed by most, a minor tremor in the normal background hum of the ship.
"I'm sorry, Your Immensity. Let me get that." Irwin's voice was calm and polite, scented with the proper tinge of apology. He had to know that something serious was up, but I couldn't tell that by looking at him or listening to his voice. That's why I don't play poker with him. He reached down to the floor, picked up the invitation, and handed it to the Monarch.
"Now, Your Tremendousness, if you will excuse us, I must attend to some ship's business."
Irwin offered his arm in escort, and I took it. He steered us to the nearest exit.
"You felt it, didn't you Maggie?" His voice was low, conspiratorial as we passed into the hallway.
"Of course I felt it," I whispered back. "Look at the heels I'm wearing for the sake of fashion. I'm having a tough enough time walking in them, let alone standing when we get a shaking like that." I stopped, reaching down to take the shoes off.
Not all the medals on Irwin's chest were for show. A molten golden starburst identified Irwin as an Admiral for the Armas. It also was a direct private link to the ship intelligence. A door opened up in the hallway, the entry into one of the plush transport nodes that ferried people about the vessel.
"Bridge, please. Captain's Privilege." There was a slight hum, and a bright green spot started racing across a diagram of the ship, a small pale green electronic window set into the dark cherry paneling. I moved to the portion of seating designed for humanoids and sat down. The soft reddish material settled comfortably around me, creating a perfectly molded seat. No sense in getting excited without knowing what was happening. We'd find out when we got to the bridge.
"They had to add this, you know." He tapped the picture. The dot had already moved a fifth of the way across the ship. "The sound, too. The inertial dampers were too good. People didn't think they were actually moving."
I was about to say that the extra damping probably made the transports the safest place on the ship when we were hit by another tremor. There were two distinct peaks, as if the inertial field had wobbled. That was a very bad sign. It was also one that would be noticed by the passengers.
"Irwin, we've stopped." The blip was close to the bridge, in the middle of the crew quarters. The display changed colors, to a sickly lemon.
"Not good." Irwin looked at the door. "Big, are you there?"
"Yes, Admiral." The ship spoke in a deep bass voice, rich and rumbling.
"I need to get to the bridge, and my node is stopped. Can you restart the node?"
"I am currently at Alert Stage Morning Sunrise Yellow, with all transports stopped. One moment, please." Irwin's eyebrows rose, and his mouth opened. A ship the size of the Really Really Really Big has more than enough intelligence to carry on hundreds of conversations. The captain should never be ignored.
"Collision imminent," boomed the voice, much louder than it had been before. "Please brace for impact." The display turned red. Irwin looked directly at me, as if to say 'I told you so.' He knew there was nothing he could do from here.
Space is mostly empty, with the emphasis on mostly. A ship at any velocity will encounter molecules of hydrogen and helium, rarely with any appreciable density. Occasionally, there are flecks of ice or chunks of grit. All of these get swept away by the hyperspatial field, pushed aside with little resistance.
Every now and then, a ship crosses paths with a piece of rock or ice of respectable size. Ship sensors are designed to scan for these kinds of hazards. Other systems enhance the hyperspatial field at the appropriate time and place to deflect the danger. Alternatively, tiny blasts of energy vaporize the object before it becomes a threat.
There's even less junk in hyperspace. The systems don't need to work as hard. They are also multiply redundant. They don't just fail.
"Collision imminent! Please brace for impact." The ship was programmed to be calm and polite to the end.
The transport node shook.
For an instant, one wall became the floor. Irwin dropped sideways, slammed by the change in gravity. I tumbled across the seating, which frantically tried to adjust to make me comfortable. I lost my grip on my shoes and they danced about, threatening the both of us with a deadly tango. The walls groaned under the strain.
Gravity shifted again, as the floor reasserted its preference to be a floor. Irwin rolled down the wall, falling in a blur of braid.
"Big, get me to the Bridge immediately." Even sprawled on the floor, Irwin's voice was commanding, demanding respect.
"I am sorry, Admiral, I have upgraded the ship status to Alert Stage Incandescent Crimson, if you concur." There was a burst of static, as if the computer were clearing its throat. "Transport to the Bridge is currently impossible."
"Get me as close to the Bridge as you can." Irwin pushed himself upright, so that he was sitting comfortably on the floor.
"I am sorry, Admiral, but I cannot do that." The calm, polite voice wavered a little, as if unsure of itself. "The closest functioning transport lounge is currently outside of the operational limits of the environmental parameters for your species." There was another burst of static from the computer, a fitful spasm of electronic coughing. Every light and panel flickered, threatened to die, and then slowly regained some of their energy.
"Admiral?" Big's voice contained electronic echoes, overtones of changing voltages and electronic emotions. "I am afraid..." Big's voice choked up for a second, before starting again. "I am afraid I am currently undergoing a major systems reorganization. My consciousness is being rerouted from damaged nodes." Big's voice fluttered, then dropped an octave. "Admiral, I can't seem to concentrate. If there is something you must know, you are going to have to ask me. I apologize for this inconvenience."
I looked at the diagram of the ship on the display. This transport line, highlighted to show our path, ended just outside the Bridge, near the bow, almost in the center of the ship. If we couldn't survive there, then the damage had to be severe. If Big couldn't concentrate, then we were truly in trouble.
"Big, let me speak to Second Duty Captain McAfee."
"I am sorry, Admiral, but the bioindicators report that Captain McAfee is no longer living."
"First Officer Justan?"
"Also deceased."
"Big, is there anyone left alive on the Bridge?"
"No, Admiral. The Bridge no longer exists." Irwin's shoulders sagged as he slipped back against the side of the seating units. He shrunk silently, just a little, a haunted look in his eyes. The lights were dimming, which only made him look worse.
"Irwin?" He seemed stunned, in shock. "Irwin?" I poked him in a particularly dense cluster of medals, a stiff spray of tungsten angles emanating from a glowing black starburst. "What's this one for?"
"Maggie?" His voice wavered. I wished he'd snap out of it.
"What's it for? Can I have it?"
"What?" He seemed utterly confused. I reached for it, to unfasten it from his uniform.
"That's what I asked you. What's this for?"
"It's the Distinguished Suaveness Cluster." His voice started to regain its usual depth and dimension. "It's for Gallantry and Unavailability, with Excellence, as a Romantic Archetype for Passengers."
I pried it free, and then jammed it into a crevice in the wall.
"Maggie! Give that back!" Before he could protest further, I found one of my shoes on the floor, and, using its heel as a hammer, whacked the edge of the medal. A second blow pushed it even further into the crack. There was a brief spark. The wall opened, revealing the emergency exit.
The medal clattered to the floor. One of the tungsten blades was slightly charred.
"Suave, magnetic and definitely electric." I pinned the award back onto his chest.
The exit let us into the transport tube passageway. There was a slight breeze, blowing towards the front of the ship. We were probably losing air somewhere, but that was a minor concern. Right now, we had to figure out how the entire ship was faring. A panel showing the maze of transport tubes was mostly red from our location forward, with symbols showing that most of the emergency bulkheads had dropped into place. No one was moving easily through the ship right now - but we also weren't losing atmosphere as quickly as we might.
A hundred meters from our stalled transport, we found an exit into a crew quarters hallway. The air was noticeably thin.
"Big?" Irwin's voice echoed faintly.
"Yes, Admiral?"
"Can you route a pair of environment suits to our vicinity?"
"Yes, sir." A segment of the wall to my right opened up. There was a chamber, like a dumbwaiter of ancient days, a meter on a side, with two silvered space suits.
"Thank you, Big."
"I concur!" I turned to Irwin. "I can finally get out of this damned dress into something comfortable."
Once suited, I ran Irwin through the suit check, and he ran me through mine. The pressure was still dropping and so was the temperature. Thin tendrils of greenish-gray smoke drifted out of most of the air ducts.
"Big, close down the air recyclers in this section and isolate the regeneration systems from the rest of the ship. Can you detect if we're venting atmosphere?" There was only silence.
"Big?" No response.
"Big, are you there?" Irwin's voice quivered uncharacteristically. He'd already lost too many friends in the catastrophe, but there is a special bond between a captain and his or her ship. I don't know what I'd do without Vortex; we've been through too much together.
He ran through all the comm frequencies in the suit, including the emergency channels. Nothing was getting in or out, except between the two of us.
"Irwin, where's the nearest computation nexus?"
"There is one off the Bridge." He turned down the hallway and moved with determination. Ten minutes later, we were prying our way into one of the chambers that housed part of Big's intelligence. The door, normally quite talkative and polite, was sullen and frozen in place. If the door said anything, we couldn't hear it in our suits. It had grown quiet because the air was gone, the only noise the echoes of my breathing.
The nexus was ominously dark. The beams of our headlamps cut stark slices across the chamber.
"This isn't going to work," I said, looking down a rack of blackened processor arrays. Irwin stubbornly reset a series of breakers, tried to reboot the dead system, and ran through the usual checklist of resuscitation. "There isn't any power here, from the primary or the secondary feeds. The atmosphere that didn't vent condensed into the circuitry. It looks like there were three or four big shorts or power surges. We have to hope that Big managed to evacuate enough of her localized consciousness from these primaries into the other nexuses."
Irwin grunted and moved to the hatch leading into the bridge. The door was stuck, slightly twisted and askew, wedged into place. Surprisingly, a good kick knocked it completely free. It fell silently to the deck, the expected weighty sound sucked away into the vacuum around us.
The Armas had spared no expense for Big, to make it plush and comfortable, and that had been true even on the bridge. Set on the centerline of the ship, right at the very prow, the view had been amazing. An amphitheater of lustrous silvered control stations looked out onto the panoramic diamond-glass, a half-circle of starry void directly ahead. Behind that arc, a raised dais for the captain's chair, a throne overseeing the line of flight through the shifting terrain of hyperspace.
Not any more. The view was gone, replaced by a wall of volatile ices, a sheer blue-green cometary berg. The arc of control terminals were shattered and crushed, pushed over and through the captain's chair. Second Duty Captain McAfee was still at his post, impaled by a shaft of console support, frozen solidly in place. His was the most recognizable of the corpses.
Irwin stood quietly, surveying the room. I put my hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at me.
"If you're thinking what I'm thinking..." he started calmly, which was a relief. Irwin was back in charge. "...then you know we need to survey the impact mass. There's an external airlock near here that had better work."
"I agree, but if anyone is going on the exterior, it's me."
"Maggie, this is my ship."
"Which is exactly the reason I'm going. You're needed here, not on some risky walk outside. You also need to let the rest of your crew know you're alive." He didn't argue.
As I was convincing the airlock that, despite expectations, there was no pressure on the inside, I rocked slightly from a shudder that ran along the ship.
"Irwin, did you feel that?"
"Yes, and it wasn't good. If we were closer to the crew levels, I might have thought it was a launch of the escape pods, but it shouldn't be that rough."
The airlock door slid to the side, but the way out was still blocked. There was a faintly bluish wall in front of me. I put my hand on it, and very cold tendrils of liquid melted along my fingertips. I could feel my skin burning from the supercooled ice, even through the silvered protective gloves.
"It's worse than we thought." I played my maneuvering jets onto a narrow circle of the icy wall. It melted away quickly, faster than it recondensed and tried to close back up. I slipped through the hole, leaving a tether anchored behind me.
I didn't have long, because I could see a fog of gas sucked into the hyperfield boiling across the vast curve of the ship. There was a layer of ice, probably mostly hydrogen and helium, coating the entire surface of the ship. It was several centimeters thick. As I planted my boots firmly onto the surface, I could see small roils of vapor boiling away from the contact with my heated suit.
"Maggie, report." I looked towards the bridge, where a looming wall of ice destroyed the symmetrical curve of the Really Really Really Big. Damn. The nucleus of a small comet was welded to the front of the ship. It was probably half the size of the ship, a veritable iceberg in the emptiness of space.
Everything shuddered again, a minor temblor that sent me gently drifting across the surface. I turned away to look down the curve of the ship towards the stern. I could see the flares of the engines of escape pods firing to get out of range of the ship's hyperfield, so that they would drop back into normal space, for rescue. The shudder had been two of the pods exploding.
"Irwin, it's catastrophic runaway, and you have to get into the comm system right away. Order the escape pod launches stopped, now. I'll explain when I'm back in."
"Roger that."