Floating in the void between Earth and Luna like a cosmic gnat drawn to their light, the Icarus was the most advanced vessel ever built by humankind. Though she had been under construction for nearly two years, the LaGrange shipyard's spiderweb of scaffolding still concealed her nose from distant inspection.
For just a moment the glitter of stars like diamond dust on velvet seemed irrelevant to Chang as the shuttle pilot made a gentle, curving approach above the dock's dorsal axis for the benefit of her passengers. Captain Chang's vantage point at one of the large, transparentsteel ports in the shuttle's observation lounge revealed to his welcoming eyes the Icarus' reversed arrowhead shape, a broad, flat forward section tapering to a rounded point at the stern. The main inertial drive protruded from the point of the arrowhead like the barrel of a colossal cannon. Thirty meters long and twenty-five wide, the most modern alloys reflected the silver light of the stars.
Chang knew from his intensive examination of her schematics and blueprints in preparation for his new command that when viewed from the side she was slender, with tapering, gentle curves. The Icarus was a beautiful ship.
But hers was a functional beauty. Though designed to never more than graze planetary atmosphere, her smooth shape was engineered to improve Warp performance. Physicists had been studying the nature of the Warp for decades, but the chaos involved had often eluded them. The hope of the engineers was that the Icarus' shape would assist in the moment of Jump, that she would be able to increase the distance she traveled in that instant by using the shape of the hull to enhance the Warp fields. All of the design tests indicated that it should work, but it had never been tried on this scale before. The great experiment was nearing readiness.
It was 2149; Captain Chang and his carefully selected crew of 18 were to be the first individuals to make the Jump using the Williams-Nabimitsu method of Warp field-shaping. The theory, borne out by painstaking observation, said that when a Warp field was generated it would cling to objects in nearby space. If the shape of these objects was right it would enhance and magnify the field generator's effect. Essentially, the Icarus would act like a lens at the moment of Jump, focusing the Warp field into a more usable, efficient shape and facilitating a longer Jump while simultaneously using less energy. When tested on small objects pushed through a static Warp field, the theory had held up.
Captain Chang did not know why he had been chosen to lead this expedition; others were more experienced Jumpers. He had made more Jumps than many; but other people had demonstrated better leadership, more courage, more loyalty than he.
But, given the opportunity, Captain Chang was determined to make history.
The shuttle now glided into a docking approach; Chang noted the clean lines of the Icarus with pride. He was ready now. Braking thrusters kicked in, shifting his center of gravity slightly; Chang's body reacted automatically with reflexes honed by years in space.
"Captain Chang," a reporter interrupted his reverie. "Now that we're in final approach, what are your feelings about this mission? Do you think it's dangerous?" she asked.
Over the last six months, Chang had finally gotten used to the incessant questioning; the media, always looking for a headline, tried constantly to interpret hesitation on the part of the administration or crew as a sign of worry. "Dangerous?" Chang scoffed, "nonsense. Human beings have been regularly flying in space for more than two-hundred eighty years, and the accident rate after the dismantling of the United States Shuttle program in the late 1990s has been negligible. The engineers who designed the Icarus have taken into account even the smallest detail." He looked directly at the binocular camera. "If I felt that there was more than an infinitesimal risk with this voyage, I would not ask my crew to make it."
"What about the stories that have been leaked about the failure of several trial runs with your new propulsion system?" asked the correspondent. "Many of our viewers have heard the rumors of a cover-up in the Warp Development Program."
"First, there've been no trial runs with the new drive on a ship -- only static tests," responded Chang. "Those rumors are the fabrications of malcontents who are attempting to undermine the Warp Development Program," he enunciated. "They have no basis in fact. There have been delays in the development of the new drive, that's true. But with any major engineering breakthrough, one must expect a few setbacks." Chang drew a breath. "However, anyone who lends any credence to those rumors is sadly mistaken."
"But isn't it true," persisted the journalist, "that as recently as last week there were reports of vandalism in the shipyards and that perhaps a terrorist organization has planned to sabotage this mission?"
"I didn't make those reports," replied Chang, "and, not being a follower of the news, I wouldn't know." Chang enjoyed watching her expression shrivel for just a moment before she recovered.
"All passengers, this is your pilot," scratched the shuttle's intercom just then. "Please return to your seats as we connect with the spacedock facility."
"If you'll excuse me," said Chang, grateful for the interruption, "I should return to my place as the captain has requested." The reporter nodded and turned to face the stereocamera.
"I've just spoken to one of the biggest celebrities in the Coalition, Captain Chang Xu," she said. "He has indicated his complete confidence in the future success of the latest Warp Development Program mission..." Her voice faded from his ears as Chang made his way forward to his seat.
The docking procedure continued uneventfully as Chang settled in and fastened his restraints. The berths -- lavender-blue paisley overstuffed behemoths -- on the Boeing shuttle were comfortable out of necessity; Global Lines couldn't afford the liability of passengers squirming out of their seats during launch. The steward came back along the aisle after checking belts for the passengers; as the shuttle nudged into position along the side of the spacedock he reached for the overhead rail to steady himself. Chang mused on the upcoming press conference aboard the Icarus. The International Space Agency had arranged a bon voyage party and had, over his objections, invited the media. Given the negative coverage the mission had received over the last few months, Chang did not expect to have a good time.
The rest of the crew had been aboard the Icarus for several weeks already; familiarization with the ship's systems and one another were their main priorities. He knew they would be prepared; they had all studied the ship's layout and controls for months in preparation for the Warp tests they were about to perform. But they would want to unwind at the reception and Chang had to put a damper on them; the press, like so many vampires, were eager for blood.
As soon as the shuttle had sealed locks with the shipyard Chang scurried across the umbilical into the facility. Quickly identifying himself with teenage-looking dock security and passing through the weapons check, he hurried to his waiting ship. He had only a few minutes to stow his duffles and change his uniform before the press corps would start to hound him.
Chang bounded to his quarters, adjacent to the bridge. The cabin was tiny, typical for a deep space vessel, but designed to take advantage of every available centimeter. The brightly lit room was well-suited to occupancy by an officer, with a small data terminal, communicatons center and bunk configured for maximum efficiency. Chang dumped his bag on the bed and dropped into the contoured chair before the comlink.
Before the journalists and bureaucrats arrived on the Icarus, Chang began his carefully drafted speech over the ship's intercom. "This is Chang. You are all aware of the sensitivity of this mission and the rumors that surround the construction of this vessel. With that in mind, during the press conference at 1900 hours please refrain from expressing any comments that may be interpreted by any of our visitors as negative," Chang paused, glaring at the grille into which he spoke. "That includes sarcasm and irony in all their forms." He gathered his breath again. "However, be relaxed and conversational when asked questions by the media. We don't want this conference to seem tense in any sense," Chang cracked a half smile at his bad rhyme, grateful that he was alone in his restrictive cabin. "I trust your judgement implicitly in this; you are all invited to attend the briefing."
Promptly at 1900 the crew assembled in the cramped mess deck. The room, designed to hold only half the crew at any one time, was packed with personnel. The numbers were swollen again by the arrival of the hypermedia anchors and their assistants; scattered among the crowd of journalists and crew were several big name politicos from the U.N., their bodyguards -- obviously bodyguards -- watching the proceedings with detached interest.
The glare of the klieg lights reflected brightly off the polished brass on the crew's uniforms as the conference began. The reporters were clustered closely about the lectern in front of them. The expectant faces of the crew, picked up by fifteen holocameras scattered around the mess, were broadcast over the global nets as millions of Earthbound citizens gazed, entranced, at them. The mess, despite the crowd, was quiet; only the muffled rustle of bodies packed closely together in the quarters marked the presence of dozens of journalists and crew.
The First Officer cracked the stillness as she suddenly snapped to attention. The rest of the crew followed suit in unison as the portal to the cabin swished aside to admit Chang's imposing presence. "Captain on deck!" she proclaimed as he stepped to the lectern, his nearly two-meter height looming over it. Chang placed his large hands carefully, one on either side of the note stand. To his left stood the Second Officer, to his right the First.
"My name is Chang Xu," he announced, "and I am the captain of the Icarus. Welcome aboard." The assemblage murmured appreciatively at this small courtesy.
"This press briefing," Chang continued, "was called to dispel several rumors about this ship, her mission and her crew.
"Many of you have, no doubt, heard that the Icarus has a totally new warp drive design. This is true. It is also true that no crewed vessels have ever tested this design.
"But there must always be a first. Our object with this maiden voyage is to make the Jump using the Williams-Nabimitsu drive and reduce by fifty percent the transit time currently necessary for traveling between Solar space and the outer colonies. We believe, and laboratory tests and computer simulations bear us out, that we can accomplish this using the new drive.
"This crew has been carefully selected from among literally thousands of applicants to accomplish this and fully test the capabilities of the Williams-Nabimitsu drive. The United Nations Space Agency has every confidence in their ability to carry out this mission. I, personally, have every confidence in their ability to carry out this mission.
"This forum is now open for questions."
The room broke into confusion as several journalists shouted at once, "Captain Chang, Captain Chang!" Chang steeled himself for the barrage of inquiries. "Yes, Ma'am," said Chang, indicating one of the microphone-waving network anchors. "You have a question?"
"Captain," she said, "We've all heard the rumors about sabotage, terrorism and incompetence. How are you going to dispel these?"
"Simple, Ma'am," replied Chang. "We're going to come back quickly with appropriate proofs of a successful trip. Next?" Chang smiled appreciatively at the ripple of laughter.
"Where is the Icarus going?" shouted another anchor.
"Our destination is classified," said Chang.
"If this voyage is so safe, why won't you tell us where you're going?" insisted the man.
"If we told everyone where we were going, it would make us an ideal target for just the sort of activities that have been suggested by the media. Would you like us all to be killed because of you?" answered Chang. "Not that there's any unusual danger from terrorism or sabotage to this mission; we just want to minimize all risks."
"Captain," asked a bitter-voiced journalist, "will you confirm for our audience that there have been threats to this mission?"
"I will not," responded Chang. "Please, can we keep this conference focused on the mission, the potential for evolutionary change in space travel, rather than the surrounding politics? I am neither a politician nor a beaureaucrat. I am a sailor. Don't ask me about terrorism, or sabotage, or anything I'm not in control of." Chang's face hardened as he raised his hands for silence.
The assemblage quieted.
"We're going to do something that no human being has ever done before. Please acknowledge the courage of my crew and the sacrifices they've made to be here. Please remember the families and friends they're leaving behind. Adding to their stress by making irresponsible claims of clandestine attacks and surreptitious raids on this ship is not journalism. It's rumor mongering." Chang realized he was starting to sound shrill. "I think I've said enough. Feel free to mingle with my crew. I'll not answer any more questions."
Over the next few hours Chang worried that his comments would cost him his command. But no one came that night to relieve him of duty; no one interrupted his solitude as he lay awake in his cabin thinking about the potential of this voyage and the opportunities it would present for the future of space travel.
In a week the ship was flight-ready. In two weeks Captain Chang was satisfied that his crew was flight-ready.
The voyage out of the Solar System took over four weeks at full acceleration; the ship had to be away from all sources of gravitational interference before making the Jump. After reaching a safe distance, and still under full acceleration, Captain Chang and crew began the first warp test.
"All hands, this is Chang. Prepare for zero gravity maneuvers on my signal." The crew scrambled for restraints, readying themselves for the shutoff of the gravity generators; eliminating gravitational influences included those generated on board. "Communications, inform control that we are commencing the first test on my mark."
"Aye."
"Shut down all gravity sources now," ordered Chang; slightly light-headed, he felt the wrench of weightlessness.
"Gravity cut," reported engineering.
"Status from all stations?"
"Go," came the replies.
"Jump," he commanded.
Without transition, the Icarus vanished from near-Solar space.
When the starfield displayed on the bridge viewscreen shifted from constellations visible from Earth to an unfamiliar pattern, Captain Chang knew that the Icarus had made the Jump. He was vaguely surprised that he had not been able to sense the moment; in his previous experience, the instant after Jump had been ephemerally disorienting.
The Icarus had maintained her velocity through the Jump and her exit position was verified by the navigational computers to within fifteen thousand kilometers of the navigator's pre-plotted course -- an amazing feat of accuracy. The Williams-Nabimitsu theory was proven on a grand scale.
After a week at speed to recalibrate on-board equipment and report test results to Solar-based observatories, the Icarus performed the second test. This time the Jump distance was tripled; the Icarus successfully arrived within ten thousand kilometers of her planned destination.
Captain Chang and his crew were ecstatic; they had broken all previous Warp accuracy and distance records in one Jump. The reports were sent to Solar-based observers; a celebration ensued aboard the vessel. All on-board systems were checked out for the third test.
The test this time was for a huge progression in Jump distance; if the third trial succeeded, as a fourth test the Icarus would simply make one Jump back to the outer Solar System instead of making a series of smaller Jumps.
But the third Warp test did not go well.
At the moment of Jump the Icarus shuddered like an epileptic in the throes of a grand mal. A roar tore through Captain Chang's head as the control deck flashed a violent red, then yellow, then all was black except for the pinpoints of crimson and amber warning and caution lamps. From somewhere above his head a siren sobbed.
"Report!" he howled into the darkness just as his chair was wrenched from its anchoring and he was thrown against the cool, vibrating deckplates, still in his restraints. His left shoulder crunched against the bulkhead with a sound he could feel in his lungs. There was no answer but the clamor of the crew struggling to understand their situation. Coupled with the thunderous screeching of the Icarus, it threatened to make him deaf. Struggling to release his now dangerous restraints, Chang felt disoriented and realized that the local gravity generators had failed to return to power and he was floating above the deck. The ruby emergency lights flashed faintly in the dark; in their dim glow he saw the rearward bulkhead rippling like a plastic sheet in the wind.
The wind.
"Decompression alert!" he heard his voice scream faintly above the din, "secure all stations! Close all doors! Life support, give me your status, now!" He stretched out his right arm for the nearest handhold, grabbing something soft and yielding; he turned to discover it was the arm of his first officer. she floated ludicrously over his head near the floor, eyes wide, thin streams of blood trailing into the air from her ears, nostrils and lips.
He could not catch his breath and his pulse pounded threateningly behind his eyes.
Suddenly, the shuddering stopped; the violent wind was replaced by the bedlam of disembodied intercom voices screaming in pain. He drifted toward the floor and thanked whatever providence had intervened, though he knew it was too late for most of the crew.
The gravity intensified; Chang was left sprawling on the deck next to the body of his first mate, both leaning against the rear bulkhead. Chang wiped the blood from his nose, struggling to keep his desiccated eyes open. His injured shoulder throbbed like the Icarus had moments before. The three others stationed on the bridge, tossed like flotsam by the destruction, were sprawled in various contortions about the bridge like so many abandoned marionettes.
Chang, planting his feet against the deck, pushed his back against the bulkhead and thrust himself erect. The Klaxon still screeched in his ears, but he ignored it as he slapped at the com panel. "All crew, this is Chang," he slurred through swollen lips into the pickup. "I want a damage assessment, now." He turned his attention to silencing the siren, thankful that the crimson emergency lights concealed the color of the viscous liquid splattered around the command deck.
Shutting off the siren with his good hand, Chang dropped into a seat at the life support station. The display screens, barely visible in the dim glow of the emergency lights and on standby power, were not encouraging.
There was no atmosphere in the rear third of the Icarus.
There were only five living crew members.
Chang and the other survivors gathered on the bridge after securing the Icarus from immediate danger. "First, I want to know what works. Then, I want to know what happened," demanded Chang. "I don't want to hear any scapegoating, I don't want to hear any doomsaying." He continued, "We'll start with you, Lewis."
"I'm not sure of the full extent of damage, Captain," replied Lieutenant Lewis, "but the radiation leakage is severe. Our escape capsules are pinned by wreckage, but we've got to get away from this ship if we're goin' to live."
"No doomsaying, Lieutenant," snapped Chang.
"Sorry, sir," mumbled the graying man. His left eye was completely swollen shut; his right eye was glazed from anesthetic. A bandage covered his left cheek and neck from his hairline down; and Chang knew that most of the second engineer's left side was blistered beneath his shredded uniform. Lewis had been in the forwardmost compartment of the drive section during the accident. "We have manoeuvering thrusters if you don't want to do anything fancy. We can at least control our general direction."
"Can we slow down?" inquired Chang.
"Not without the main drive. And that is, literally, gone," replied Lewis. "Power generation is minimal; enough to run essential life support, navigational shields, some of the most critical functions of the main computer and about half the operable thrusters at any given moment. We've got complete hull integrity in only twenty percent of the ship, and I can't guarantee that that much will stay tight. Life support is minimal even in those areas. I estimate that, if the Icarus holds together, we have about three weeks' worth of life in the recyclers. The forward navigational shields are at forty percent, enough to protect us from minor collisions; nothing bigger than a football or moving faster than we are. The gravity generators work in about one third of the secured areas, and I can fix the remaining units or replace them with units from outside the liveable area. Overall, engineering and life support both look pretty grim."
"Mehtanra?"
Lieutenant Mehtanra, the chief communications officer, replied, "Captain, we've got internal communications in about a third of the ship. We don't have external communications beyond a forty kilometer radius, since our long-range antennas are inoperative or nonexistent. We can't send a distress call, and even if we could nobody would get here before life support gives out. I don't know where we are, I can't look behind us because the aft scanner array is gone and the main computer can't handle the calculations required to figure it out."
"How about you, Kinte?" Chang asked the medical officer.
"Sir, as you know, only we four are functioning, and you can tell our condition by looking at us. Lieutenant Jones is in a coma and I don't anticipate that she'll survive without major surgery, which I can't perform under these conditions anyway." Kinte paused, shrugging his shoulders. "Psychologically, we've all suffered a mighty big blow. If we can handle what we've handled so far, we can probably take about anything. But, my guess is that what we need is hope for a landing somewhere." Kinte paused and looked at his scabbing hands.
"Mehtanra tells me that you've scanned local space and that there's a planet around here close?" He finally blurted, the hopefully questioning look on his face voicing the rest of his thought.
Mehtanra looked closely at Chang, who nodded his head. "Yes, we've located a system that's only about a week away, give or take, and close to our present trajectory. But, we can't perform a detailed scan on the most likely planet at this range," said Chang. "And I want you all to know that, even if this planet can support life, landing is a really risky chance. The Icarus is not a surface-capable vessel, and, as Lewis has indicated, our escape capsules are not launchable, let alone spaceworthy." Chang examined each crewman in turn. "Now, tell me what happened to us."
Lewis volunteered, "my guess is that we got pinched in the Warp field. When we Jumped, the field closed before the Icarus had cleared. When you Jump, you open a hole between two places. The front end of the ship is one place and the stern is another; the rear of the Icarus got blown to hell because it wasn't anywhere. That's my theory, anyway."
"It also explains why we don't have a drive section," said Chang. "And why we're going about four times as fast as we were before we Jumped. The instantaneous conversion of all that destroyed mass into energy shot us away from the Warp like a shell from a cannon."
"It also explains why I can't fix our position without the main computer," said Mehtanra. "An explosion during Jump would set up a space-time distortion, and who knows when we are, let alone where."
"All right, then," said Chang, "we'll worry about what caused the pinching and explosion when we get to our destination. In the meantime, we all know what we need to do to stay alive. Do it." Chang rose, his left arm secured by a sling, and said, "Lewis, point us at that system. Mehtanra can give you the directions. Kinte, do what you can for Jones. And, everybody, I want your ideas on how to get down to that planet. Think very carefully, and don't rule anything out. Dismissed."
For a week, the derelict Icarus rattled through the vacuum toward her destination. Fragments of vessel and a corona of gasses formed a wake behind her. Chang, Kinte, Lewis and Mehtanra struggled to repair essential systems and keep themselves alive.
Using only the inertia of the ship and a few bursts of the manoeuvering thrusters, Lewis gently guided the Icarus into a severely elliptical orbit around the planet. Deft piloting and inventive decision-making left the four a few options, but the only remotely viable one was to attempt a power-assisted landing using the navigational fields and the hull of the Icarus as airfoils.
The Icarus was traveling at about fifteen kilometers per second, necessitating aerial braking maneuvers to reduce speed before the actual landing attempt. Lewis nudged her into a lower orbit; the friction of the planet's atmosphere against her titanium-aluminum skin raised the internal temperature of the Icarus. The wind shrieked; her body shuddered. The already twisted shell of the ship fragmented into the tempest as jagged edges broke off from the shockwave and atmospheric friction.
Come back with your shield or on it the Spartans used to tell their warriors, referring to the body-sized shields the soldiers carried with them into battle. Since they couldn't run from a battle while carrying the shields, it meant that they were expected to die or conquer on the field, not run from it. If a Spartam died honorably in battle his comrades would carry him home on his shield. Chang thought the expression apt for his circumstances. Although the navigational shields of the Icarus were severely weakened by the blast damage to the drive section it looked like the shields would hold the debris of space at bay; but the crew of the Icarus was literally about to land on those shields. They fervently hoped that they would come back holding their shield, rather than dead upon it. Again the vessel shuddered. But the Icarus' navigational shields held out the worst of the turbulence and her crew made it through.
After slowing to mach six, the Icarus made a few more orbits of the planet, then plunged into the atmosphere. Lewis had programmed the computer to adjust the navigational shields as her speed dropped; they were to change gradually from a bullet-like shell to an arrow to a delta to a saucer, each to compensate for the changing dynamics of her flight. The saucer was to provide the Icarus with enough lift to prevent a vertical descent.
The roar of wind deafened the four alert crew, firmly strapped into acceleration couches as they bounced in the stratosphere. During the final moments of descent they blacked out, preventing a controlled landing.
The Icarus ripped into the ground still traveling at mach two.