Dremiks

Dremiks

Cassandra Davis

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

© 2012 Amy Cassandra Davis

ISBN: 978-1470126362

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Cover art © 2012 Kirk Lunsford

For Ethan and Ian:

May you always travel the stars,

if only in your imaginations

Chapter 1

In space, the sun never truly rises. Moons and planets might obscure the direct rays of a solar system’s primary star, but the light is always there—waiting to dispel shadows and blind the unwary. The International Space Administration’s (ISA) Orion Launch Station orbited around the Moon, serving as workplace and home for jaded scientists, seasoned explorers, and cynical pilots. As the full glare of the Sun came around the Earth’s curve and fell upon the station, they all paused to marvel or wince. For those about to travel far beyond the familiar confines of the Earth’s solar system and such familiar sights, the moment of blinding light was especially poignant.

“Remember your duty, Margaret, and you will encounter no difficulties on this mission.”

Commander Maggie O’Connell stared at the video conference screen with blank features even as her nails bit into her palms. All around the ship, other fathers, mothers, siblings, and relatives wished their loved ones a speedy, safe journey, or expressed great sadness at their impending departure.

Not my father. My father chooses to remind me to do my duty
.

“Your captain is a responsible, steady officer. Trust in his orders and look to Chancellor Trell or Vice Chancellor Hill for diplomatic support. They are aware of the political realities. They know what is at stake.” Admiral O’Connell’s hazel eyes glared out of his weathered face.

As if I have no clue about “what’s at stake.” Like I somehow forgot the war that raged during my entire childhood and killed four hundred million people. Like you would ever
let
me forget my responsibilities.

“I will be in touch throughout your journey.” He paused for effect. “Remember our agreement, Margaret. Dismissed.”

She made sure to cut the feed before letting her shoulders sag.

***

The crew of humanity’s newest space shuttle,
Hudson
, secured to Orion station pending her launch, completed their final system checks. The
Hudson
would carry her forty member crew and one hundred fifty colonists on a seven month journey to Dremiks—a Saturn-sized planet orbiting the sun Santalas. Santalas, its system of six planets, and its corner of the universe had been unknown twenty-five years before.

The planet Dremiks, according to her former inhabitants, was dying. Her smallest of two moons, Najif, was in a decaying orbit. The moon would eventually break apart and bombard the surface of the planet with monstrous asteroids. The planet was already uninhabitable for the Dremikian race. They’d fled a century before and started new lives on a space station. Their engineers held out hope that a humanoid species able to withstand the extreme climate and gravitational fluxes of the surface of Dremiks could mine the material necessary to save the planet. Humans, according to the Dremikians, were the first species they’d encountered who had the physiological make-up needed.

Deep under the surface of Dremiks, in strata of rock as hard as Earth’s iron, sifted a fine mineral which could be used in a powerful weapon. It was the Dremikian’s hope that the detonation of that weapon would right the orbit of Najif. The concept of moving a moon with an explosive force was too fantastic for many humans to believe. To persuade mankind, the Dremikians provided some of their small stores of the mineral, lorga. The resulting explosion disrupted the gas tides on Jupiter for a span of three years. Having suitably impressed humans, they provided the plans, engineering, and materials needed to build a shuttle to take human miners and engineers to Dremiks. In return for saving their planet, Dremikians signed a treaty promising humans a new home on the restored planet. The technological advances they proffered would open up the universe to exploration.

Captain Brett Hill, thirty-six years old and in command of his first ship, paced the engineering spaces. He knew it made him look unsure and fidgety, but he couldn’t stop all the same. He kept his hands clasped behind his back to resist running his hand through his dark hair.

Don’t fidget. Back straight, shoulders back. Head high, eyes direct. Make eye contact, but don’t intimidate. Mustn’t distract them now. No, don’t rake your hand through your hair. The captain must be implacable, a rock in the stormy sea.

The engineering crew members were completing their final pre-launch duties. Nodding assent and clicking softly in his native tongue, Dwax G’Trujkulis floated along beside Chief Turner. As the youngest son of the Dremikian ambassador, Dwax was supposed to be a merely ceremonial part of the crew, yet he had already proved to be invaluable in deciphering the finer points of Dremikian engineering.

This ship, fifteen years in the making after thirty years of genocidal war. If she’s not a symbol of all the good mankind can accomplish, I don’t know what is. Hell, the men who came up here to work on her had no country, no families, left to go home to. By the time the Peace came around we were half-way to needing a new planet ourselves.

Too bad we couldn’t take the time to add some aesthetics.

Hudson
was not stately, and she certainly was not an awe inspiring sight. She was so elliptical as to prompt snide comments of flying saucers. She was, for all her alien engineering and shape, a shuttle. Her purpose was to deliver cargo and persons from one spot to another. Exploration or combat were not in her design. If, in the highly unlikely event, she were threatened,
Hudson was
designed to flee as swiftly as possible. However unprepossessing the shuttle might be, she was built for speed. She could fly to Mars faster than anything yet produced. But she was not going to Mars, or anywhere quite so common.

All of humanity’s desires and energy focused toward this one goal, for 15 years. Cannot fail on your part. Must not let your crew down.

We need to get there, fix that moon, and establish a colony.

Please let it be as simple as that.

Captain Hill had encountered quite a few Dremikians during his space academy days and his later military service. Their ethereal shapes and clicking language took getting used to, but they were a genial and humorous species. More mathematically intelligent and longer living than humans, they had physiological mysteries still to be explained. Their society and culture would be intriguing to study in their native habitat.

Stocky, graying, Chief Turner stopped his conversation with Dwax and glanced at the captain. “Your pardon, sir. I believe that was Commander O’Connell calling you to the bridge.”

Hill snapped out of his reverie at the chief’s comment. “Of course. Carry on, Chief. Report to the bridge at 0900 for launch preparation.” With a small nod to Dwax, Hill turned and made his way to the nearest tube lift.

Vacuum tubes as a mode of transportation were new enough that children still squealed in delight to try them. Captain Hill merely grunted. No matter how often he was assured that his internal organs were
not
being sucked out of alignment, the experience was still unsettling. The
Hudson’s
design had a major flaw in her captain’s eyes. There was no direct tube from engineering to the bridge. It was a short walk from one end of the spherical crew deck to the other and the nearest tube to the bridge, but it was an annoyance that the captain had not gotten past.

The bridge itself was a nightmare of logistics. The main steerage and control panels abutted the nose of the craft, but the communication, navigation, and engineering panels were spread out around the room. To the supreme irritation of their diplomatic passengers, there wasn’t enough room on the bridge for observation seats. They would have been supremely bored, as the captain and his officers had repeatedly informed them. The launch would be no more impressive than the first fifteen trial flights the
Hudson
had taken. It was just as well, Captain Hill thought. He didn’t need extra bodies cluttering his bridge.

His executive officer, Commander Maggie O’Connell called the bridge to attention as he entered. He nodded smartly to the room in general before focusing on the woman in front of him. “As you were. Progress, Commander?”

“All systems on-line except for engineering, sir. Navigation has obtained star fixes for Mars orbit; communications has opened the launch channels for Houston and Orion command. Lieutenant Price reports the colonists are ready for departure. Dr. Fortunas has secured the science deck, and Dr. Ruger reports the medical deck stocked and secured. Awaiting inspection sir.” Her report was delivered smartly and precisely, just as he had become accustomed to over the last three months. He would inspect the bridge, but he knew before moving another foot that everything would be perfectly turned out and in order.

“Very well, Commander. Ring the bells, all hands prepare for pre-launch inspection and sequences.” Ringing the bells was more of a ceremonial throwback than a necessity, but the ISA had too many naval roots and naval-trained officers to forget long-standing traditions. Hill stood peering at the nose of the craft where heads-up screens and projections listed off bearings, status boards, and every other basic function of the ship. Another bank of digital displays showed the images captured from the surrounding space dock and the cold vastness beyond. Chimes sounded throughout the craft. The captain jerked his head around at the sound of Commander O’Connell’s voice across the loudspeakers following the chimes. Somehow, in all the confusion of the past few days, she’d found the time to re-record the basic command messages with her own voice. He had to admit the effect was more personable—hearing the voice of command instead of a synthesized droning.

He turned back to watch as the status boards showed each of the department officers reporting that their stations were manned and ready for inspection. As the last stations reported in, Commander O’Connell again snapped to attention before him. “All hands accounted for and all stations report ready and prepared for inspection, sir.”

“Indeed. Accompany me, Commander.”

Ensign Nate Robertson stood at attention beside the bridge navigation panels along with the two navigation crew members. Robertson’s father was a US Senator, which was why so young an officer was present among the crew. He had only recently graduated from basic navigational school, but done so at the top of his class. A genial young man with coal-black skin and just a trace of his native Alabama accent, Nate had inherited his father’s ability to put people at ease.

“You have obtained the necessary fixes and are ready for the Mars leg?”

“Yes sir!”

“Good, carry on Ensign.” Hill moved on to the engineering consoles where Lieutenant Johan “Swede” Guttmann waited. Captain Hill was tall enough that he rarely had to look up at another man. The Swedish engineer, however, towered above his captain.

“Everything in order down there, now, Lieutenant?”

“Yes sir,” the broad shouldered man replied in barely accented English. “Ready for launch, all systems running true and normal.”

“Ready to set a speed record to Neptune orbit?” A speed record was something raised as a jest a month before, but the
Hudson’s
chief engineering officer and his subordinates had taken up the challenge.

Impossible as it seemed, the six foot seven inch lieutenant stood even taller. “We’ll shave four hours off the best time, sir.” The hint of a smile touched the corners of his mouth beneath a thin blonde mustache. “My guarantee, sir.”

“I’ll hold you to that then, Swede. Carry on.”

The commanding officer and the executive officer of the
Hudson
continued around the bridge space and through the adjoining duty-stations, assuring themselves that mankind’s first transport to deep space was indeed ready to depart. The full inspection took an hour. Upon returning to the bridge, Captain Hill turned and nodded sharply to O’Connell. “All hands prepare for launch sequence.”

“Aye, aye, sir, all hands to prepare for launch.” She pointed at the communications section first. “Open channels on screens 1 and 5 for Orion and Houston. Secure all data streams and make ready ionic particle shields for the instruments. Engineering be ready to respond to commands in fifteen.” Her gaze fell on Dwax. “Honored One, please find your assigned seat and prepare for launch.” He rocked his head back and forth in the curious Dremikian gesture of assent even as she turned to Lieutenant Tony Price. “Co-pilot’s chair awaits you Mr. Price. Have controls ready to respond in,” she turned her head to check the countdown clock, “thirteen minutes.”