Chapter Four: A MAN AND HIS STARSHIP
The Space Rescue Service had initially begun as an extension of MHI's efforts to locate the Icarus, but has since been expanded into a full, internationally sponsored entity. Technically independent from government or corporate oversight, the organization functions almost like an old-time NGO, but with a far nobler purpose.
Since humans and mamono could now feasibly explore and colonize not only the Sol system but also the stars beyond, it became necessary for there to be a group that could render aid quickly and efficiently to anyone in need of it. Medical supplies, spare parts, specialized raw materials, even emergency evacuation. Anytime, anywhere, the SRS does it all, supplementing government efforts when necessary, and operating alone when other entities can not or will not get involved.
This proved to be a prudent decision, as at a speed once thought to be impossible, both insystem, and interstellar colonization efforts were launched, meaning the SRS found work almost immediately even in those early days.
Nowadays, things have begun to settle down somewhat, with more deliberate efforts at permanent colonization being constructed, compared to the first rush to hastily establish bases in the far-flung reaches of the inner system. And aside from the now flourishing cities on the moon, the most advanced effort to date in that respect has been almost unanimously agreed to be Gagarin Station.
Not coincidentally, the SRS has chosen to base all primary insystem operations from there.
Gagarin Station follows the basic form factor of a Von Braun space wheel, and still rotates to generate 1G at its outer rim, despite having a complete set of gravity plating throughout the structure. At almost three hundred meters in diameter, the construction of such a massive object would have been impossible, or at best highly cost-prohibitive even a decade prior, but between advances in gravity control, and the sheer necessity of such a station now that colonies on the Moon and Mars are also growing, has practically guaranteed its existence.
The station's position at the L5 Earth-Moon Lagrange point also makes it an ideal base for the SRS. A sister station, located at the L1 Earth-Mars Lagrange point named Komarov, is now under construction, and SRS has optioned at least six docking bays there.
On Gagarin, however, there are a full ten docking bays on permanent lease for the SRS' exclusive use. Bays twenty-six to thirty are reserved for Insystem Rescue Vessels, and bays thirty-one to thirty-five are reserved for the pride of the SRS fleet: the new (as of this writing) Knight class Deep Space Rescue Vehicles.
- Howard Cernan; "History of the Sol System, Vol. 3"
Five years, two months, and seven days later…
It was a slow day when the crew of the SCV George Chesterfield spotted the anomaly. As soon as the detectors registered it as a "planetoid", the Chesterfield had dropped out of FTL, and begun scanning. Advances in FTL technology had improved to the point that all ships heading beyond the Sol system were equipped with sophisticated gravity detectors, allowing them to not only avoid stellar debris, but also to spot potential resource rich asteroids and comets. Crews were awarded a finder's fee when such objects were successfully located and tagged.
Despite the temptation of a potential windfall, Space piracy was also a legitimate concern, and their cargo was time sensitive, so the Chesterfield kept her distance, and filed a preliminary report immediately.
One excerpt from that initial report was most notable:
"Stand by, I'm looking at it, and it is not a planetoid. It is a bright object, and it's obviously rotating because it's flashing. It's way out in the distance, rotating in a rhythmic fashion, because the flashes come around almost on time… I don't know if that does you any good, but there's something out there..."
The initial report was updated once the gravity fluctuation the object was emitting was recognized as an encoded message, and the coordinates were then sent to SRS headquarters. From there, dispatch orders went to the commander of the SRS offices on Gagarin Station.
Gagarin Station, Dock 31
Filling out performance reports was not a new pastime at this point. But that didn't make Captain David Wilkinson any less irritated when he had to do so. You would think with advances in computer technology, they would have done away with paperwork eons ago… But no, in order to satisfy the bean counters, he had to fill out reports on the performance of every component of his shiny new ship the moment they'd come back from their shakedown cruise.
To be fair, as the leader of her class, the DSRV Richard T. Knight would naturally require far more thorough documentation than any of the follow-on vessels would. By that time, the technologies he and M.I.T.C.H. were testing would have become the gold standard, after all. Still, he would never enjoy the cramps his arm and hand got after writing what felt like an entire manual on his own.
At least he was able to enjoy the view while he did so.
Having set up an impromptu writing station near the docking bay controls, David took in the sight of the Earth passing by the partially open docking bay doors as the station slowly rotated, only the auxiliary atmosphere shield between him and the void. If he held out his hand at arm's length, he could just about obscure the entire blue and white marble with his thumb. Doing so prompted him to then stretch his arms over his head, and let out a deep sight, as he felt his six-foot frame relax. He let his arms drop, then ran his fingers through his curly black hair, and massaged the trim beard he maintained.
There was the electronic equivalent of a throat clearing, and his mechanical partner spoke up through his earpiece.
"So David, done for the day?"
"Yeah, buddy. I've had enough of filling out reports for one day, and dinnertime's almost here."
"I'm certain your efforts will be appreciated by those who read them."
"Don't count on it. These reports are for the bean counters, not the tech boys."
"Ah, I see. The ones who insist that my proposed adaptations to the Bussard collector are "wasteful and unnecessary?""
"That's them. To be fair, you did want to adapt it into a particle cannon, as if we aren't already heavily armed as it is. The Danuki's in accounting already aren't thrilled with the fact that we're armed like a cruiser, despite being barely the size of a frigate. Best to not antagonize them too much."
"Understandable. However, my insistence on the modifications is not merely for self-satisfaction. Despite out spinal mount railgun, we have no similar class of energy weaponry. It would be prudent for us to equip such a weapon, in the event we encounter difficulties in the deep black."
"It has two barrels, Mitch."
"Only one of which can be brought to bear at a time. True, this doubles our rate of fire, but we still lack the ability to keep force on target quite like an energy weapon."
"If I frame it as a tool for comet deflection, do you think they'll go for it?"
"That is indeterminate at this time. They may insist we return the Casaba shells if you do so."
"Definitely not returning those. The field test against those pirate hulks proved they're practically indispensable."
"I do have another possible solution."
"If you're going to say what I think you are, I'm not too sure I'll be able to cover for you. And Command will probably blow a gasket."
"Even so, I do have the requisite schematics ready to go. All it would take is a call down to Miss Cosgrove's, and she can have them shipped here in time for our next assignment."
"And where would we even get the money to pay for the parts, assuming you don't plan to ask the bean counters?"
"I've made some… Investments over the months we've served together. Suffice it to say, my own personal finances are more than sufficient. And besides, I have few things I actually desire. The bulk of my needs are supplied by the SRS free of charge, and we are permitted our hobbies in our spare time."
"Despite my better judgement, I can't really see a flaw in your reasoning… All right, transfer the designs to her, and make the request. How much is this going to affect our mass curve?"
"And now we arrive at one of the primary sources of my discomfiture. The requisite components mass less than twenty kilograms, and would in fact be drop-in replacements for a similar mass of existing components."
David took a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose at that. "So what you're telling me is that the accountants, in their infinite wisdom, are playing games with us again."
"Not in so many words, but that assessment is essentially correct."
"All right, I'll run this by the Admiral, just to keep things aboveboard. But first, I'm gonna grab some dinner. I assume Tessa will have the parts printed by the time I get back?"
"Your ability to determine that I have already finished placing the order is astonishing."
"Don't act so surprised. Your argument is sound, and I assume you'd figured I'd say yes."
After exchanging goodbyes, David made his way to one of the cafeterias on the deck inward of the ring docks, and ordered dinner. Fortunately, Gagarin was a mature space station, so fresh food was on offer, instead of the basic carbo-protein sludge that was then pressed and flavored by industrial food printers into passable imitations of real food. (That was reserved for stations and colonies still under construction, fortunately) Or even worse, the compressed rations that could barely be considered "food" that the most bare-bones of colonies had as their almost exclusive source of nutrition.
He'd followed his nose to one of the Asian-themed food counters, manned by a pair of ren xiongamo. Through the open space into the kitchen beyond, he could see a salamander and a mantis busily cooking over an open-flame grill. Less than ten minutes later, he was tucking into a bowl of spicy chicken and vegetables over rice, accompanied by a tall cup of green tea, when his wrist communicator chimed. The ID on the call showed it came from "Admiral B. Tumansky. SRS". With an internal sigh, David swallowed, and braced himself for the incoming storm.
"This is Captain Wilkinson."
"Wilkinson, this is Admiral Tumansky. Are you currently busy?"
"No sir, just finishing an early dinner."
"Excellent, come to the main SRS offices as soon as you can. I have news that cannot be shared on an open channel."
Masking his surprise at the undercurrent of eagerness in the Admiral's tone, David mentally calculated how long it would take him to make his way to the main SRS offices in the Hub. "I can be there in ten minutes."
"Excellent. My secretary will buzz you through to my office as soon as you arrive."
With that, the Admiral disconnected. David took a moment to finish his meal, sad that he'd had to gulp it down instead of savoring the obvious quality that had gone into it, sucked down the rest of his tea. and disposed of his refuse. From there, it was a brisk walk to the number five pylon, where he boarded one of the transport pods there. The pods could go quite fast in an emergency, but it was murder on the inner ears of passengers, so he opted to let it follow the standard mode, and wait the five minutes a normal transfer took.
The drier air of the Hub always felt like stepping onto a windswept mountaintop, and he could see into the central docking core from where he'd stepped off the transport pod. Across the cavernous space, there was a moderate level of activity. He could see Tessa's storefront from here as well, the neon sign with an interlocking trio of rotating gears and the words: "Cosgrove's Cogs, Gears, & More" immediately catching the eye. For the life of him, David still couldn't figure out how she'd managed to get a permit for something so garish… But that was gremlin's for you.
Sitting on either side, the storefronts for an electronics shop, a vac suit cleaning and repair service, and a fuel depot/lubricants vendor were readily seen, but their signage didn't have the same… panache, as Tessa would have called it. Similar storefronts ringed the entire inner surface of the Hub core in-between the docking bays, and other zero-G facilities. There were workers cris-crossing the open space as well.
As he walked along the outer corridor to the SRS offices, David saw more than one kakuen nimbly traversing the open space of the Hub, often using their handlike feet along with their powerful hands to rapidly change direction, towing packages with their prehensile tails. There was the occasional flitting shadow as well, as manticores, wyverns, humans with thruster packs, and the occasional cheshire or arachne operated equipment, ferried packages, or went about other business among the numerous vessels docked.
After entering the SRS offices, David went up to the secretary, a gazer, who was using all eight of her stalk eyes to track multiple screens, while also routing instructions from the two physical keyboards on her desk. Her central eye swiveled to look up at him.
"Captain, Wilkinson, here to see the Admiral."
After pressing a button to one side, she gestured with her eye. "Head on in, he's expecting you."
The Admiral rose to his feet as David entered the office, his Slavic features taking on a pleased expression. "Good to see you, Captain." He said, extending a hand in greeting.
"Likewise, Admiral," David replied as they shook, and took their seats on either side of the Admiral's desk.
"I take it from you latest reports that the shakedown cruise went well?"
"It did, Sir. I was especially happy with how well the M.I.T.C.H. system was integrated into the vessel's own systems, and how installing an MI gives us so much better fine control over all the systems in a coordinated manner."
"I'm sure the tech boys will be pleased to read your in-depth analysis. But right now, I have an assignment for you. How familiar are you with the story of the Icarus?"
"It was required reading at the Academy, and part of the coursework involved analyzing what went wrong with her drive system. Come to think of it, it's why we only mount drive coils in multiples of two now…"
"All of this is true, yes." Here, the Admiral steepled his fingers, leaned onto his desk, and fixed David with a piercing look. "How familiar are you with the interconnected history between the loss of the Icarus, and the founding of the SRS?"
"So it's not a rumor, Sir?"
"I find it interesting that such an intrinsic portion of our history has already passed into rumor and legend, even after only five years," the Admiral sighed. "Still, you're the man on the spot, as the saying goes."
Now David was confused, but he put the pieces together rapidly. "Sir, are you saying what I think you are?"
"You suppose correctly, Captain. The Icarus has been found."
