Mistrust amid solar flares forecasts trouble in “The Oort Federation: To the Stars”

PROXIMA CENTAURI—PS AD ASTRA & PS NEIL ARMSTRONG

A soft alarm sounded as Ad Astra exited nullspace and all the holographic monitors displayed their surroundings. A particularly bright star lay ahead of them.

“The orbit of Proxima b has been well established for more than a century,” eThorpe said. “It’s seven-point-five million klicks from Proxima, and its orbital period is eleven-point-two days. I want to park Ad Astra at the leading L4 point and hang out for a while, collecting data that will make a lot of people back in the Solar System really happy.

“Dale, please activate the portal so Dr. Fredricks can join us. eDaphne and eDale, get our Entangled Particle Display (EPD) up and running. It can help collect object data for this system, and we know that Armstrong will arrive in a bit, and Orlov will show up sooner or later.”

“Hey, everyone,” Dr. Fredricks said as he stepped through the portal. “That’s about the longest five-and-a-half hours I ever spent. How was the trip?”

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“Entirely uneventful,” eThorpe said. “We’re headed for Proxima b’s L4 right now.”

“Hi, guys!” Kimberly’s voice filled the lounge as she stepped through a portal that had just appeared from Armstrong. She kissed Daphne and Dale, hugged Johnny, and stroked Max. “We’re pacing Proxima b five million klicks above the ecliptic, collecting data and keeping an eye out for Gagarin.”

“It still will be four or five hours before they arrive,” eThorpe said.

“At L4,” Mother announced. “Engines shut down; EPD engaged.”

“Okay, listen up, everyone, both ships,” eThorpe said. “Back in the Solar System, we have a network of solar storm monitoring stations that warn us of an approaching solar storm. Typically, in the inner Solar System, we have five to eight minutes warning. Farther out, of course, we have longer. Here, we’re only seven-point-five million klicks from Proxima. This means that light gets here in a half minute, and the charged particles arrive in four and a half minutes. Both Ad Astra and Armstrong need to program Mother to take the ship behind Proxima b the moment we receive light from a solar flare. Another thing; Proxima is a flare star. Periodically, it increases its total luminosity so that it emits the same x-ray flux as Sol. This can happen several times a day, but the increase in x-rays is of no real concern to us because they are absorbed by the palladium-hydride between our double hulls. What matters are the charged particles that accompany a solar storm.”

Programming Mother in both ships was simply a matter of informing Mother what to do if she detected a solar flare on Proxima. No sooner had the crews programmed their resident mothers than alarms sounded in both vessels. A fraction of a second later, both Ad Astra and Armstrong exited nullspace behind Proxima b, 1,000 kilometers above the planet’s surface, hovering on their MBH drives.

Four minutes later, radiation alarms sounded again. On Ad Astra, eThorpe said, “That’s got to be Proxima’s charged particles being captured by the planet’s magnetic field and routed to our location. Mother,” he ordered, “move us out to twenty-four thousand klicks above the planet.”

“Why twenty-four?” Dale asked. “And what about Armstrong?”

“eBraxton is basically me with mods from our separate existence since he was cloned. He thinks like me, so he’ll do the same thing—I hope. Twenty-four thousand klicks because that would take us beyond Earth’s upper band of charged particles in its magnetic field yet still be sufficiently close for the solar wind to sweep past us. Without more data, I’m applying Earth parameters to Proxima b. Once the astronomy boys process everything we send them today, we’ll know a lot more.”

During eThorpe’s explanation, Ad Astra’s EPD indicated Armstrong’s arrival a thousand kilometers away. Shortly thereafter, the EPD alarmed again. Daphne checked it out.

“It shows a new presence near the Proxima b L5 position. Whatever it is, it’s taking the brunt of the solar storm.”

PROXIMA CENTAURI—UZ YURI GAGARIN

Eleven hours and forty minutes after entering warp 16,000 kilometers above Sol’s ecliptic, UZ Yuri Gagarin, with Isidor Orlov, Academician Sergii Anatoly Borisovich, Frohlican Adrhun Gloalorn, and ten crew members, flashed out of warp near the Proxima b L5 position, as close as Borisovich was able to calculate it from available data in the Solar System. Immediately, radiation alarms sounded through the Lance.

Everyone except Orlov and Borisovich ran for the Bolt Room.

“Excuse me, Sir!” the Academician said to Orlov as he grabbed the controls and attempted to re-enter warp.

Nothing happened.

He tried twice more—nothing.

“Status!” he barked at the resident computer as he pushed Orlov into the Bolt Room.

“The forward warp ring sustained substantial charged particle damage. It will remain inoperative until repairs can be effected,” the Resident responded.

“Explain,” Orlov demanded as he and Borisovich took seats in the cramped quarters.

Borisovich explained. “Proxima generates many solar storms, some worse than others. We came out of warp directly into a heavy charged particle flux. Our palladium-hydride-filled double-hull will have minimized our individual radiation dosage, and the crew getting into the Bolt Room probably helped further. You and I should take anti-radiation medication, and the auto-doc should monitor all of us.”

“Explain why radiation damaged the pod,” Orlov demanded, frustration filling his voice.

“Too many variables and insufficient information,” the Academician answered. “Until we can examine the problem, I simply cannot tell you.”

“Radiation levels normal,” the Resident announced.

Orlov and his crew exited the Bolt Room.

“What now?” Orlov asked.

“We need to get behind Proxima b to be shielded from the next flare,” Borisovich said. He checked his Link. “It will take us fifteen hours and twenty-two minutes to arrive at Proxima b’s L2 point, one hundred fifty-one thousand kilometers above the surface.”

“Is your Link working?” Orlov asked.

“Just internal functions.”

“How do we get back?” Orlov asked. “Is the hyper-brick working?”

“No, Sir. That’s the first thing I tried. We lost the link somewhere along our route. The only way to regain it is to generate another hyper-brick at the locus on Udachny. The fuel portal is still working because the portal size is much smaller.” While he talked, he set Gagarin on course for Proxima b’s L2 spot.

“There’s got to be something we can do,” Orlov said, his exasperation increasing.

“It’s not that simple,” the Academician said. “It’s really not.” He called up his Link again and spent several minutes doing mathematical manipulations. “We have an operating VASIMR system that can push us at one-gee, supplied by deuterium through the fuel portal. If we push steadily at one-gee for about seventeen days and then reverse and decelerate for another seventeen days, we’ll arrive in the vicinity of Sol in thirty-four days subjective time—during which over four years will have passed in the Solar System.”

“During which time,” Orlov said, “Phoenix will have reached the Aster System and established diplomatic and trade arrangements. In effect, we will have been left in the dust.” He growled. “That option falls just before staying here forever. What else can we do?” He walked around in the limited space, his arms folded, scowling. “Think, people…think!”

“Isn’t one of the Phoenix starships near Proxima Centauri?” Gloalorn asked tentatively. “Can we signal them?”

“Hell! I don’t know,” Orlov snapped. “They gotta know I’m responsible for losing their station.” He turned to Borisovich. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. Our sabotage was set to shut down their power supply, not collapse their mini black hole. When we get back, I want to address that.” He placed his hands on his hips. “If they did that to me, I wouldn’t help them.”

“Do you have a better idea, Sir?” Borisovich asked. He turned to the crew. “Does anybody?”

On Armstrong, Mother announced, “The Gagarin is heading for Proxima b L2. Arrival time about fifteen hours.”

Ad Astra and Armstrong had set up their comms so that each vessel was aware of the other’s communications without duplicating incoming messages. About a half-hour following the announcement of Gagarin’s movement, both ships heard, “Mayday…Mayday…this is the Udachny Starship Yuri Gagarin calling on the international distress channel. We are transmitting from the Proxima Centauri solar system, in transit on VASIMR engines from Proxima b’s L5 location to the planet’s L2 location, anticipated arrival in approximately fourteen hours. Our warp drive is damaged beyond our ability to repair without parts from Udachny in Earth’s Solar System. Mayday…Mayday… anyone receiving this message, please respond on any channel. We are monitoring all channels. Mayday… Mayday…” and the entire message repeated.

eThorpe transmitted a response. “UZ Yuri Gagarin, this is PS Ad Astra. We have received your distress call. In fifteen minutes, Ad Astra will come alongside Gagarin. We have a docking tube that will make an airtight seal against your hull around your airlock. One of our crew members with a broad level of technical expertise will enter Gagarin for a face-to-face conference to determine how we might be able to assist you.”

At first, there was no response. Then an acknowledgment where even across the transmission, the sender sounded relieved. “Roger, Ad Astra. We are standing by to receive your technician.” 

“Dale,” eThorpe said, “I want you to transfer to Gagarin and find out what their problem is and what they need. Take one of the specially programmed E-disks with you, and keep your finger on the activator. Activate the E-disk on even the smallest irregularity. It will take you back here. Keep an open channel with me.”

Mother brought Ad Astra alongside Gagarin on her MBH drive so that Ad Astra’s top was pointed in the direction of Gagarin’s travel, extended the collapsible docking tube, and set an airtight seal around Gagarin’s airlock hatch. Dale filled the docking tube with one-atmosphere air, locked through Ad Astra’s airlock into the one-gee environment of the tube created by Gagarin’s forward acceleration, and opened Gagarin’s outer lock hatch.

“The inner hatch is shut,” he reported. “I am opening it.”

As the hatch opened, Dale caught a brief glimpse of crew members pointing projectile weapons at the hatch. He activated his E-disk.

“UZ Yuri Gagarin, this is PS Ad Astra. We have undocked and moved a safe distance away. You are bracketed between PS Ad Astra and PS Neil Armstrong. We both are sweeping Gagarin with unfocussed neutrino beams. We can shift our focus in a microsecond so that the beams will disrupt all biological life on Gagarin. We will allow you to continue on your course to L2. If you take any other action of any nature, you will all die.

“When you arrive at L2, you will shut down your VASIMR’s and drift. Within fifteen minutes of arrival at L2, you will collect all of your portable weapons into a cargo net and place them into your airlock. One of your crew members will push the cargo net with the weapons out of your airlock and close the hatch behind him. Should your airlock open again after this, we will disrupt all biological life on Gagarin. We will collect the weapons and then communicate with you again. 

“Acknowledge this transmission.”

“What options do we have?” Orlov asked Borisovich.

“I do not know these neutrino beam devices. I really cannot advise without further information.”

“Bullshit! Assume their weapon will do what they say. You and your people come up with some options, and do it quickly.”

“While we study our options,” Borisovich said, “I recommend we lay out a cargo net for the weapons.”

Orlov grunted his concurrence. He leaned back in his chair at the control console, placed his hands behind his head, and dropped into deep thought. Those bastards have me by the balls right now. I need to convince them that I have capitulated completely, and that I will do whatever is necessary to gain their cooperation. He began to explore various avenues, most to be discarded, but several saved for closer examination.

An hour later, Borisovich approached him. “We have come up with a possible plan, Sir.” He proceeded to lay out a plan that matched in most details one of the avenues Orlov had already examined. I got lucky when I acquired this man, Orlov thought. “Okay,” he said, “Good job! We will implement your plan.”

Orlov turned to Gloalorn. “Adrhun Gloalorn,” he said formally, “you have an important role in this operation.”

Orlov laid out for the alien exactly what he expected.

Robert G. Williscroft is a retired submarine officer, deep-sea and saturation diver, scientist, author of 19 books and hundreds of articles, and a lifelong adventurer. He spent 22 months underwater, a year in the equatorial Pacific, three years in the Arctic ice pack, and a year at the Geographic South Pole. He holds degrees in Marine Physics and Meteorology and a doctorate for developing a system to protect SCUBA divers in contaminated water. Author of non-fiction, submarine technothrillers, and hard science fiction, he lives in Centennial, Colorado, with his family.