Claws That Catch

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Oh, now that’s just too rich,” Bill said, shaking his head at the planetology monitor.

The ship had not lifted with a full science complement, but it had brought some specialty personnel. Astroman Darryl Figueredo was an astronomy-mate, once one of the most obscure members of the Navy’s wide-flung bureaucracy. Since man had gone to sea the stars had guided him and even with the advent of GPS the Navy had continued the tradition of teaching stellar navigation. Stars changed position ever so slightly on a constant basis which was why the Naval Observatory put out constantly updated tables detailing how to use their current position to find a ship’s current position. Somebody had to do the viewing, the calculating and fill out the paperwork. Since that was what enlisted men were for, the Navy had an insignificant number of enlisted people with just that specialty.

With the abrupt shift to a space Navy, the specialty had become far more important. However, there were still only a handful of astronomy-mates in the Navy. The school was being ramped up, but in the meantime…

Darryl pushed his glasses back up his nose and shrugged.

“Sir, I just find the stuff,” the astronomy-mate said. With gray-green eyes and chocolate brown skin, Darryl was a second-generation Dominican and still retained a trace of his family’s islands accent. But since he had also been the captain of his school’s astronomy club, getting this job was a dream-come-true. Admittedly, if he had his druthers he’d have been doing it from a nice safe observatory on Earth, but you went where the Navy sent you. “It’s up to somebody else to figure it out.”

So far the astronomy-mate had found only four planets in the system, a rather paltry number even for a blue-white star. But that was only the most minor part of the strangeness.

All four planets were super-massive Jovian gas-giants, planets that were right on the edge of being stars themselves.

All four were in exactly the same Keplerian orbit, circling the blue-white at a distance of 2 Astronomical Units, just a little greater distance than Mars is from Sol.

And they were, as far as the instruments could determine, perfectly spaced.

“I’m starting to wonder what this race couldn’t do,” Bill said, swearing faintly under his breath. There was no way that the orbits could be natural.

“And if you think that’s weird, sir,” Darryl added, “take a look at the spectral readings from the planetary atmospheres.”

The majority of a Jovian’s troposhpere was hydrogen and helium and that was the case with these planets: Atmo was 86% hydrogen and 13% helium. And after studying literally hundreds of them since the Blade went out, it was well understood what the mix would be depending upon the type of star that was in the system and the distance the gas planet was from that star. For Sol-like stars, Jovians between about three to fifteen AUs were mostly like Jupiter or Saturn and consisted mainly of hydrogen and helium gases in the outer layers. Deeper into their interiors were liquid metal hydrogen and very few other materials. Gas giants that had orbits out past fifteen AUs typically had hydrogen and helium in their tropospheres but also had other compounds like methane and ethane there as well. Deeper in those large gas planets were water and ammonia ices and even rocky materials.

In the case of these planets, however, the numbers were just… off. High levels of krypton, neon, and argon were present in planet one. High levels of sodium and neodymium in planet two.

“Metals in one planet, nitrogen in that planet, noble gases xenon, krypton, and… argon?” Bill said, swearing again. “It’s 4% argon?”

“The planetary chemistry has been tailored, sir,” the astronomy-mate said, pushing his glasses up his nose again. “I did the math while you were on your way down. That’s more argon in that planet’s atmosphere than the mass of the Earth. Be interesting to find out where they got it. Given that I’ve found no rocky planets or moons in the system, sir, they might just have converted it from those, assuming they could change huge masses of one element into another. Based on normal blue-white solar systems, the mass transfer is about right.”

“I so didn’t want to hear that.”

“This entire system has been tailored,” Bill said, shaking his head. “And that thing has to be why.”

“The question is… what is it?” Prael asked.

“A weapon,” Bill said. “Nobody expends that much energy on anything else. Their version of a supercarrier is my guess.”

“Something that can destroy this part of the galaxy?” Lieutenant Fey interjected. “There’s enough power there.”

“This is reality, Lieutenant,” Captain Weaver replied, “not an Xbox game. Think about propagation time. Even if it could destroy ‘this part of the galaxy’ it would be a while before the destruction got anywhere, don’t you think?”

“There may be a data point for that,” the TACO said. “A weapon that is. We’ve detected what look like meteoric impacts away from the surface. I think it has some sort of shield.”

“I’m surprised they left any asteroids in the system,” Bill muttered. “They sure seem to have cleaned up otherwise.”

“So much for getting close, then,” the CO said, ignoring the muttering.

“Not… necessarily, sir,” Bill replied, breaking out of his reverie. “There are various types of theoretical shields that will stop a meteor but not a vehicle that’s going slow enough. Not saying that’s the case, but it’s possible.”

“How do we test it?” the CO asked.

“Well, the dragonflies are just sitting there.”

“It’s important to approach from the shade, Colonel,” Bill said. “It’s going to get really really hot if you don’t.”

“So you have repeatedly told me, Captain Weaver,” Colonel Che-chee said. “I will make that approach.”

The ship was in orbit around the star at three AU from the tree while Colonel Che-chee and her wingman accelerated towards it.

“Approach slowly,” Bill reminded her.

“I will endeavor to avoid being smashed, XO,” the colonel said.

“Flight One, follow the ball,” the fighter control officer said, punching in deceleration orders. “More, more, stationary relative. Ready to advance, Colonel?”

“Quite,” Che-chee said.

“That’s about where we think the shield is, sir,” the FCO said to the hovering officers. “If it’s really a shield it’s a big one, extending nearly a kilometer from the tree.”

“Given its size, that’s not all that far,” the CO said dryly.

“But it’s far enough we can fit the ship inside it,” Bill said.

“Point.”

“Flight One, two hundred meters to shield,” the control specialist said. “One fifty. One hundred. Fifty…”

“That is an odd sensation,” Colonel Che-chee said. “All my fur just lifted.”

“Flight one is inside the theoretical shield zone,” the control specialist said.

“Keep them inside it,” the CO replied. “Colonel, are you willing to go try to look over the edge at the sun? Be aware that if this shield doesn’t work the way it seems to, you’re going to get fried. You will not survive.”

“Then I will let the male take the risk,” the colonel replied. “That is what males are for. Vector?”

“Dragonfly five approaching edge of Limb One,” the control specialist said. “Maintain heading and course. Reduce speed. Prepare to decelerate and reverse. Five, four, three…”

“No effect,” Colonel Che-chee reported. “I’m moving forward.”

“Careful, Colonel,” the CO said.

“Ka-kre reports no ill effect,” the Cheerick said. “But he does ask why the sun is so dark…”

“Why put something like that that close to the sun and then put a shield on it to reduce solar input?” Lieutenant Fey asked.

The shield acted as a polarizer on the side pointed to the sun, essentially a giant sunglass lens, reducing solar input to marginal levels.

“Prevents long-term degradation, I suppose,” Bill said. “But the point is, the thing didn’t react to the Flies. In fact, there’s no indication that it even knows we’re here. You’d expect some sort of automated defense system.”

“Degraded?” the CO asked. “If it’s from the same race it’s over twenty million years old.”

“Massive power output,” Bill pointed out. “The shield’s still working and there’s apparently a reactionless drive to hold it where it is, sir. If this thing has had any degradation effect from sitting around for a bunch of million years, you’d think one of those systems would have gone.”

“And we still have no clue what it is,” the CO said, sourly.

“The Tum-Tum Tree, sir,” Bill said, chuckling. “God knows we’re all in uffish thought.”

“What?” Captain Prael snapped.

“I never thought of you as a quoter of poetry, XO,” the CO said, frowning.

“ ‘Jabberwocky,’ by Lewis Carroll, sir,” Bill said. “When the Adar named this thing the Vorpal Blade I looked it up and memorized it. If there was ever a Tum-Tum Tree, that’s it. The way things are going, I’m looking for the gimble in the wabe.”

“Well, let’s hope the Jabberwock doesn’t come burbling for us, here,” the CO said. “Next step?”

“Send in the Marines?”

“So what kind of particles are we looking at?” Lieutenant Bergstresser asked.

Captain Prael looked nonplussed at the question and turned to Weaver.

“Lots of neutrinos, quarks, pentaquarks and fermions,” Bill said. “No neenions.”

“Didn’t think so, sir,” Berg said, grinnning, then turning serious. “But that sounds a lot like the output of the engine, sir.”

“Similar,” the TACO admitted. “Not exactly the same, though. It’s possible, however, that a part of the power source is a black box system.”

“Colonel Che-chee didn’t detect any entries on her flyby,” Bill continued. “But that’s what you’re looking for. Hopefully, this thing has an intact control center, maybe even some clue as to what it does. Take your platoon down to the surface and look for an entrance. Just for giggles, I’d suggest that you start on the trunk extension. More particles seem to be coming from that area. But we don’t have a lot of resolution at this distance. Stay in contact and continually feed us data.”

“Roger, sir,” Berg said.

“This is a recon, Lieutenant,” the CO said, looking over at Captain Zanella, Berg’s commanding officer. “Don’t do anything rash.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, sir,” Berg said.

“You know why you’re doing this, right?” Captain Zanella asked. “You’re our most experienced space hand and the best Marine we’ve got with particle readings. But you’re not a physicist and you’re not Superman. Just get in there, get the readings, try to find a hatch and get out.”

“Yes, sir,” Berg said.

“Good luck, son,” Captain Prael said, standing up and holding out his hand.

“Thank you, sir,” Berg said.

“Second Platoon, Bravo Company will approach the anomaly from the out-system direction in line, Team Bravo, Heaquarters, Charlie and Alpha in sequence. Upon reaching the tip of the anomaly, teams will spread in echelon to cover one hemisphere of the anomaly, Bravo left, Charlie left, Heaquarters forward, Alpha right, and will proceed upwards towards the spread end. Teams will maintain head-down position and use laser rangefinders to maintain one hundred meters separation from the anomaly. Open personnel separation as proceeding to maintain maximum spread across the hemisphere. Upon reaching maximum spread, platoon will reconfigure and move to trunk portion, performing a close sweep of the underside and trunk region. In the event that no opening is found, platoon will then move to the opposite hemisphere and do the same actions in reverse, regrouping at the tip and then proceeding back to the ship.

“Conditions: This is space, people. Conditions inside of the shield are reported to be nominal spatial conditions. Outside the field and in direct line to the star, suit temperatures will briefly rise to over four thousand degrees and turn the wearer and suit into an expanding ball of atoms. Do not get outside the shield.

“Communication: All sensor systems including but not limited to particle sensors and visual sensors will crossfeed to platoon radio transmission operator. RTO will ensure constant communication with the ship and will retrans all sensory data to the ship on specified frequencies. Teams will monitor platoon net at all times. Teams will not enter other teams’ nets unless specifically ordered to do so. Teams will not communicate on platoon or command nets unless specifically ordered to do so.

“Safety: Pairs will check all seals prior to entering EVA chamber. Pairs will check for seal closure and leak upon draw-down of atmosphere. If all checks are good, personnel will then and only then exit chamber on boards, maintaining separation. Individuals will maintain minimum ten meters separation while in movement on boards. Weapons will be safed with no round in the chamber. In the event of failure of seal during EVA, individual will be placed in secure-bag and team will return with individual to the ship, opening bag only upon full resumption of normal pressure.

“Commander’s Intent: It is the intent of the commander to gather information from the anomaly and find an opening to same while staying alive doing so. This is a reconnaissance mission, only. Platoon will take no pro-active actions in the event of finding out-of-standard readings or an opening. In the unlikely event of threat we will back off and call for support. Are there any questions?”

“Sir?” Corporal Shingleton said, raising his hand.

“Go.”

“Are the particles dangerous?” Shingleton asked.

“No,” Berg said, looking over at Gunnery Sergeant Juda with a raised eyebrow. “To repeat, all that has been observed is penta-quarks, fermions, quarks and neutrinos. Anybody know what that output resembles?”

“The ship’s engine, sir?” Lance Corporal Kaijanaho asked.

“Correct,” Berg answered. “You’ve got the same things going through you right now, Corporal. I want a report from you on the output level of the ship’s engine in the Marine quarters under normal use by Monday.”

“Yes, sir,” Shingleton said, wincing.

“A coherent one,” Berg continued. “Any other questions? No, then let’s get it on. Gunnery Sergeant Juda, a moment of your time?”

“…Don’t know diddly about particles, sir,” the gunnery sergeant admitted. “So I’m having a hard time getting them more advanced than they already are.”

“My fault,” Berg said. “I should have been checking into it. When we get back, shoot me their most recent scores in standard particle identification. I may have to give some classes.”

“Yes, sir,” Juda said. “They’re good Marines, sir, but…”

“There are good Marines, Gunnery Sergeant,” Berg said quietly, “and then there are good Space Marines. The two are not necessarily synonymous. We need to get it on. We’ll discuss this later.”

“Platoon, hold position.”

Up close the Tum-Tum Tree looked less like a tree and more like a bunch of pagoda roofs stacked on top of each other. Each layer had multiple points of equal size with more points on each layer as the layers got larger. There were five at the very end, by the sharply tapered point, then eight, fifteen… If there was some sort of mathematical sequence there, Berg wasn’t getting it.

It was also spectacular. Each of the “branches” that led to the points fluoresced in a cascade of colors, shifting through most of the visual spectrum. There was no definite light source; it played from somewhere in the transluscent depths of the thing. There seemed, however, to be a more intense line of the color in the depths, as if something was pulsing the colors into the branches like blood through veins.

Berg swung around, getting particle readings, and then frowned. The particles waxed and waned with the colors, pentaquarks being the most prominent line at this range. He had no grapping clue what that meant.

He also knew what he wanted to do but knew, as well, that he couldn’t do it.

“Gunnery Sergeant,” Berg said. “I need someone to go down and make physical contact with the surface. They’re to touch it, lightly, and get particle readings from up-close. They are not to touch it if they determine there may be a threat.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Juda said.

Lance Corporal Antti-Juhani Kaijanaho was a second generation Finnish immigrant born and raised in Orange County, California. With dark hair and eyes, a wide-flat face and very slight epicanthic folds from some Lapp ancestor, he had eventually just started spouting gibberish that sounded vaguely Asian when people asked him if he was, Chinese, Japanese, Korean or Cambodian. His favorite had been one guy who had been absolutely sure he was Mongol and wouldn’t take Finn for an answer.

When he had joined his first Force Reconnaissance unit his team NCOIC had looked at his face and name and said: “Kaijanaho. Japanese, right?”

“Finn, Staff Sergeant,” he had responded, proud of his heritage. At the confused expression he had followed up with his standard expansion: “You know, where reindeer come from?”

Most members of a Force Recon team had their “team name,” the nickname assigned by the team through some mystical process that involved a concensus of a short name or phrase that defined that person’s personality and position. He had come to regret his standard explanation a few months later when the magic moment came for him to be assigned his team name.

Kaijanaho lifted “up” to the surface of the thing carefully, using his laser range finder to determine how close he was and his approach speed. Up close, it was nearly impossible to tell how far away the thing was; there was no real depth perception possible. As he closed he grew more entranced by the wall of color above him, shifting in multiple hues. As he got to nearly arm-length it was apparent that what looked like one shade was, in fact, millions of hues mixed together, flowing just under a translucent surface like billions of multicolored blood corpuscles.

He reached up one Wyvern claw and, lightly, almost reverently touched the surface. It was hard but where he touched the light seemed to draw around, following his finger…

“Blitzen?” Sergeant Champion barked. “Readings?”

“Uh…” Kaijanaho replied, entranced by the swirling colors.

“Lance Corporal Kaijanaho!” the sergeant barked again. “Atten-hut!

“Sorry, Sergeant,” the lance corporal said, closing his eyes and lowering the claw of the suit. “Up close this stuff is hypnotic. My apologies.”

“Accepted,” Champion said. “Gimme some readings, Prancer.”

“Just lots of pentaquarks, Sergeant,” Kaijanaho said. “Actually, at this range I’m getting some slight alpha particle readings. Those are hazardous but the rad level is very low. About like a tritium watch face. No gamma or beta.”

“Shiny…” Champion said after a moment. “Pull back to your position, Rudolph.”

“It’s pretty hypnotic from up here, too,” Berg admitted.

“Agreed, sir,” Gunny Juda replied. “Orders?”

“Continue the sweep,” Berg said. “Onwards and upwards. But since I’ve spent, like, no time with the teams, can you explain why Lance Corporal Kaijanaho has three team names? And why they all seem to refer to Santa’s reindeer?”