“Belay that,” Peter responded. “In other words ….”
Perry continued for him, “We have exceeded the zero-point equation given our current parameters.”
“How about the shuttle?” Stiles asked.
“That is not an acceptable solution, Stiles,” Perry replied. “The courier that is sequenced for launch would be unable to maneuver, let alone comply with Peter’s projected course. The main engine is able to complete minor course corrections, but is also not able to overcome the gravitational potential of the stellar mass.”
“We should jump then,” Stiles suggested.
“That would be equally impossible,” Perry replied. “Hyperspace initiation cannot occur deep within a gravity well.”
“So all is lost,” Henrietta said. “We’re stuck.”
Peter dropped into the command chair. He stared at the tactical screen, observing the tiny ship falling into the bloated burnt umber stellar sphere. For some reason, the image reminded him of an ancient cave painting of a lone warrior walking into the sun.
“The direct path is not always the one best chosen, Rising Sun.”
“Grandfather …?” Peter asked.
“What did you say,” Ali asked.
Peter blushed. “Nothing; I—I was just thinking …,” Peter replied confused. “Perry, display the mass of that star.”
Perry displayed the data, listing it on the lower edge of tactical. “The mass of that body is 6.7964 to the thirty-first power, in Colonial-standard pounds.”
Ali crowded next to Peter, obviously interested in the results.
“What’s wrong?” Peter asked.
Ali stared at the display for a moment. “Wait a minute,” he said, “that can’t be right.”
“Too much mass?” Peter asked.
“No, way too little. That’s only ten to twenty times the mass of the sun.”
“That’s still a lot,” Henrietta said.
“But nothing like what I thought. Its insides must be a hot vacuum. Aww geez ….” Ali slapped the arm rest angrily.
“What?” Peter asked.
“Of course,” Ali replied. “It’s not a main sequence star, like the stars in the Colony. It’s a supergiant. Idiot!” He hit his head with the palm of his hand. “I think they are much less dense.”
“So the gravity’s not as bad as we thought?” Henrietta asked.
“Oh, it’s bad, but not as large as I thought. Still gets us nowhere, though. You heard the ship; we can’t break free.”
Peter nudged Ali aside to access the navigation screen and began inputting figures. He scratched his head and cleared the screen in frustration.
“Trying to write your will?” Stiles asked.
“Trying to save your butt. So shut up for once.”
Peter frantically worked out all the orbital parameters his father had patiently taught him. Each one was for a special case his dad needed at one time or another during his career. Peter had been so bored, listening to his father drone on and on about thrust and mass and orbital mechanics. The only trajectories Peter was interested in at the time were spitballs hitting a friend’s face. His father even patiently explained the math behind spitballs until Peter realized that that was just as boring as the other lessons he was trying to explain. He wracked his brain trying to recall all the specifics of those useless lessons.
“So what are you trying to do?” Ali asked.
“My dad taught me stuff about orbital mechanics once, but I can’t remember the details.”
“No wonder,” Stiles replied. “That speak-teach stuff never sticks.”
“You’d better hope it did,” Peter replied. “It may be the only thing that saves that scrawny neck of yours.”
Peter attacked the screen again as the lessons slowly came back. He scratched his way across the screen several times. Each one showed a schematic of the ship in accelerated time falling directly into the star—six failed attempts. He wondered if he should just give up until a special case came to mind. He input the parameters and began the simulation. Henrietta and Jimmy edged over Peter’s shoulder, waiting impatiently for the simulation to unfold. It slowly ran its course, avoiding the huge star to their front as if the two bodies were opposing magnets.
“Perry, look at this course projection.” Peter locked the last simulation in the computer and directed it to central memory.
“Received,” Perry confirmed.
“What did you find?” Ali asked.
“The path best not chosen,” Peter replied. Thank you, Grandfather. “We’ve been trying to fly away from the star.”
“Yeah,” Ali replied. “Of course we have.”
“So that’s our mistake.”
“How can that be wrong?” Stiles asked.
“We can’t reach sufficient speeds to exceed the gravitational potential energy of that star.”
Everyone looked confused, so Peter continued, “In other words, we don’t have the power to—”
“If I hear that one more time from you, I’ll break your neck,” Stiles said.
Peter smiled. “What we need to do is fly directly toward it.”
“Are you nuts?” Stiles asked. “Fly closer? You just want to die sooner, huh?”
“No, we accelerate tangentially toward the star, increasing our velocity using the star’s mass. That gives us all kinds of free thrust, allowing us to slingshot away. I think my dad said something once like that about a gravitational assist.”
“Like they used to do with old chemical rockets? Is that still possible?” Jimmy asked hopefully.
Back in the old days of space exploration, when rocket efficiency was in its infancy, they utilized any advantage they could, including a controlled fall toward planetary bodies.
“I think so,” Peter said triumphantly. “Besides, smart captains still use this technique for optimal trajectories, even with our advanced engines. Free energy is free energy. Perry, what do you think?”
“Initiation of this command sequence will provide an acceptable solution for the next 16.7 hours, at which time no amount of maneuvering will pull us away.”
* * *
It did not take Peter 16.7 hours to issue the command. It was more like 16.7 seconds. The kids felt the ship surge forward as the engines took hold. Instead of drifting aimlessly toward the gravity well—as they were doing for the past week—the ship began accelerating directly toward the star, utilizing all six fusion plants as they slowly ramped up to maximum capacity. The gravitational attraction assisted the ship’s acceleration rate and it began speeding through space almost immediately. As it gained momentum, the ship altered course away from the center of the star and began to deflect around its rim.
To break free of the well, all the ship needed to do was attain a speed that gave it a kinetic energy potential greater than the gravitational potential. The boost from the star’s mass provided the extra kick it needed and once it went fast enough, it would skip across the star’s corona like a flat pebble skimming over a pond.
“I never thought I would get this close to a star,” Perry observed. “Most people would never attempt this.”
“Don’t thank us for the opportunity,” Peter said dryly.
“I had not thought of doing so,” Perry admitted. “The dangers involved would not justify it.”
Henrietta looked around the bridge nervously. Now that she brought the ship back into operation, she found herself with nothing to do. After several days of constant activity, and little sleep, it was a supreme let down. “You’re sure this will work?” she asked, feeling helpless.
“The orbital mechanics are sound, Henrietta,” Perry replied for Peter. “At our closest approach, however, background radiation will be critical. Even within the radiation room, the prompt dose will exceed one hundred rems. That is sufficient to induce spontaneous vomiting in humans. I suggest you prepare for that eventuality.”
“You mean we’ll get cancer,” Jimmy said.
“Well, our chances go up, J
immy,” Henrietta replied. “It doesn’t mean you will get it.” Just because the probabilities of developing cancer went up a percent or two for a couple hours did not mean it was a serious problem. Henrietta wondered how many times they had been exposed to carcinogenic sources before and had not even known it. More than I’d probably want to know, she concluded.
“Whether we do or don’t, it beats being dead now,” Ali observed.
“I guess,” Jimmy conceded reluctantly.
“What about the heat?” Stiles asked. “I don’t know if I can take much more.”
“That continues to be a problem,” Perry replied. “However, as we come broadside to the star I will be able to rotate on my axis to distribute radiant energy more uniformly throughout the ship. It will get very hot, but should be survivable within the core. In fact, my maneuvers may even make it cooler in the rad room than it currently is here on the bridge. Luckily, much of that star’s radiation is transmitted in the infrared. The surface, in actuality, is rather cool for a star.”
Ali knew they would survive the temperatures. It would be uncomfortable, but all his models showed them to be well within tolerable ranges throughout the entire maneuver. But rising temperatures were not the only problem they faced. “Hull pressures?” Ali asked.
“That will be an interesting problem,” Perry conceded. “I will do whatever I can to survive.”
“That doesn’t sound reassuring,” Ali said. He was wondering the same.
“No, it is not,” Perry agreed. “The amount of gravities we will experience will be extreme, and I only hope my compensators will be up to the task.”
As they continued forward, the image of the star filled the entire view screen. It looked like they were flying over a strange, alien landscape rendered in garishly false color. Dark red mountains jutted above orange and yellow valleys. Flares occasionally shot up toward the ship like volcanic geysers, spewing plastic-looking plasma into space before crashing back into the star’s surface. If not for the terror, it would have been fascinating to watch.
About an hour into the flight, the radiation count began to rise. Noises from the ship’s hull were nearly deafening as the ship pinged like a hot skillet.
“Ali,” Perry advised, “it is time for you all to vacate the bridge.”
“Thanks, Perry,” Ali replied.
“Okay, we’re leaving,” Peter said. “We’ll just sit it out now. You have the bridge,” he added in jest to Perry.
The children transferred to the radiation room and followed Perry’s progress using the monitors in the sanctuary. The large sphere looked like a huge glowing cinder. It was mostly red, but splotches of orange, yellow, and tan scarred the rough surface. Individual granules could be seen on the surface, the result of upwelling plasma from the fiery internal furnace. It reminded Peter of an old, cracked rubber kickball.
Although huge, the surface temperature was only around 6,000 degrees Fahrenheit, with much of the star’s energy radiating in the cooler, invisible infrared. The star was old and slowly evaporating away—losing mass from the strong wind of the encasing nebula that glowed from the light of the two stars within.
Perry would accelerate as quickly as the programmed orbital parameters allowed, and on average would achieve a little over half-light speed. At those average speeds, the fly-by would take about five hours to complete.
Perry was still in communication with the kids in the rad room, and provided continual updates throughout the voyage. “As we pass through the corona, the solar wind fighting against the nebular currents will be extreme. Be prepared for a bumpy ride.”
“Just what we need,” Henrietta moaned.
As promised, the ship jerked and vibrated as they passed nearer to the star.
“Approaching perigee,” Perry announced. They were about halfway through the flight, and had survived so far without any problems. Peter, however, was doing everything he could to keep the contents of his stomach down.
“Are you alright?” Henrietta asked.
“Yeah,” Peter replied, although his expression betrayed him. “It must be the radiation.” He hiccupped and excused himself to a corner of the safe room, sitting down on the deck in agony. Stiles uncovered a snack he brought with him and ate it purposely in front of Peter. Glancing his way, he offered Peter a bite. Peter turned his head away, trying to ignore him.
The ship jolted down severely after it passed through a strong current. The kids grabbed hold of their seats. Stiles decided to quit eating as well, and shoved the remains of his food into the ’cycler.
“Perry, how are you doing?” Ali asked.
“Hull pressures are holding. It has been difficult, but I believe we will be okay. It is a very painful experience, but not as bad as it was when I was shot outside the Vega Construction Base. Your slingshot maneuver is working, Peter. The worst appears to be over, and we will be able to begin deceleration soon.”
The ship whipped around the far side of the star and began pulling away, just as Peter predicted. The further they went, the less turbulence they encountered. Soon, it felt like they were once again in smooth outer space. As they progressed through their orbit, the star began to tug at them, which helped slow them down, but due to the residual speed it was not strong enough to pull them back in.
Henrietta gave Peter a hug. “You did it!” She was careful not to squeeze too tightly.
“We all did it,” Peter replied blushing, “especially Perry.”
“Thank you, Peter,” Perry acknowledged. “That was quite exhilarating.”
“Let’s hope that’s the hardest thing we have to do,” Ali stated.
“Amen to that,” Henrietta agreed. It was the first time in a week she truly smiled, yet she kept a watchful eye on Peter to be sure he was all right.
They watched the star pass to their rear as the ship began to slow down to more normal in-system speeds. The worst was over, and now it would only be a matter of finding their way back home.
CHAPTER 10
Lost in the Clouds
The atmosphere on the ship was much more relaxed now that the immediate crisis ended. Temperatures returned to normal and the creaking of Perry’s hull finally stopped. After whipping around the giant star, Perry slowed to a crawl as they took stock of where they were. That presented new problems. The nebula surrounding the star was an enormous cloud of ionized gas, charged by the energy of a pair of stars co-orbiting near its core. They were totally enshrouded within it, as if travelling through a dense fog.
Now that the danger had passed, it was actually a stunning sight that all but Stiles appreciated. The main view screen produced more than a few “Ooh’s” and “Aah’s” as they took in the scene, but Stiles continually grumbled under his breath about needing to get back home to his studies. Peter was not so naïve; he knew that Stiles meant “scheming” rather than “studies,” for it was obvious that his life-long dream was to become president of the Ten Colonies. And that could not happen while they were way out here.
“Oh, look at that stream of yellow stuff,” Jimmy exclaimed. A gossamer thread of yellow gas wove delicately around a dark cloud silhouetted by charged gas further in the background.
“It’s like an enchanted island floating in space, isn’t it?” Henrietta proclaimed.
Within the nebula were countless gas clouds. They looked like massive cumulus storm clouds, resembling billowy balls of cotton. Instead of blinding-white and bluish-gray, the clouds displayed every color imaginable—blood-red, indigo, aqua-green, and mustard-yellow, set against the black starkness of space.
Henrietta continued her daydreaming, “And the tip of that black cloud looks like a giant mountain, with a city on top.”
“Yeah,” Stiles replied with boredom soaking his every word, “and Prince Charming is waiting there to whisk you away to his fairy castle.”
“He didn’t live with fairies,” Henrietta quipped.
“No, but I do.”
“A man’s judged by the company he keep
s,” Ali observed.
Stiles looked up from his PAD, “What’s that s’pose to mean?”
“Oh, nothing, Stiles,” Ali replied sweetly.
Jimmy turned away from the view screen. “I’m hungry.”
“Me too,” Stiles said. “Come on, let’s go do something other than waste our time staring at the magical scenery.”
Before they could leave, Peter called on Perry.
“Yes, Peter?” the ship responded.
“Do you have any idea where we are?”
“No, I do not. There is no way to fix ourselves in space. It is like being dropped in the middle of a vast desert without any landmarks.”
“Are there any records of nebulous regions within the Ten Colonies?”
The others settled back in their chairs to listen in.
Perry purred as he checked all his records. “My database is extremely limited, so I cannot say for certain. However, the records I can access do not indicate any regions such as this in or near the colonial worlds. For that matter, I do not even know which direction the colonial worlds lie.”
“But there could be these … nebular clouds … nearby,” Stiles added.
“That is a possibility,” Perry conceded. “But without any referents, I cannot place us at any specific location.”
“Do any of you ever recall seeing anything like this at the places you’ve been?” Peter asked the group.
None of them saw anything remotely like this, other than black space and white, blue, or yellow stars. Peter tried to remember anything his dad said about flying through nebula, but could not think of any times it was mentioned. He continued asking Perry questions. “Of the nebula you do know about, how close are they from the colonies?”
“The closest one currently accessible in my database, other than the one we are in, is a sinuous nebula at 450 light-years. There are several hundred others listed at distances from a few thousand to over ten million light-years.”
The kids remained silent for several minutes, absorbing what Perry just said. Eventually, Ali broke the silence.
“But that doesn’t mean there can’t be others closer.”
“That is correct, Ali. The absence of data does not preclude their existence, especially with the partial records we have to work with.”