Going Interstellar (collection)

Harrod turned to Ackley, and found the younger Intendant already staring at him—now more in desperation than defiance. Harrod nodded and answered his unuttered question:

“Yes, we have much work to do. Much work, indeed.”

— 4 —

Kalsor Tertius (high orbit), 356th year of founding

Bikrut Mellis’s voice was bored, his face expressionless. “And the ignition trials?”

Harrod nodded. “Success, my Overlord. We will achieve output sufficient for standard acceleration of .35 gees by the middle of next month. I suspect maximum output will be achieved the month after that.”

Bikrut’s answering nod was the closest he ever came to fulsome praise. “And the ship’s fusion power plants?”

“The refurbished originals did not achieve break-even as quickly as the new units, but once they did, they have routinely out-performed our modern copies. We will achieve maximum rated output within three months, unless something dire occurs.”

“Make sure nothing ‘dire’ occurs, then, Intendant. Or you could experience your own dire occurrence.”

Bikrut, Harrod reflected, was ever the voice of boundless encouragement. “As you command, my Overlord.”

“Let us turn to the problems, then.” He fixed dead eyes upon Ackley hur-Shaddock. “You still do not have enough away-craft: what is the delay?”

To his credit, Ackley did not flinch under that lethal stare. “The delay is caused by the intransigence of the HouseMoot, Overlord Mellis. We can only use away-craft secured for House Shaddock’s exclusive access, but the Moot is slow in supplying these vehicles.”

“The Moot’s lethargy is no excuse for your failure: you should have explained that the biometric security requirements stipulated by Verone must be rescinded.”

“I did so; Overlord Verone will not relent.”

—To your relief, thought Harrod. Without the security protocols that require the pilots to be of House Shaddock, the Evolved of House Mellis would kill them in their cold sleep.

Bikrut’s withering stare did not waver. “I have also learned that House Shaddock disapproves of the energy we have allotted for our magnetic shielding.”

Ackley remained calm. “Our dispute arises out of hard physics, not House politics, Overlord Mellis. Your House’s scientists assert that doubling the field strength of our electromagnetic protection grid will enable it to repel cosmic rays. This is a fallacy.”

Bikrut looked at Harrod, who took the cue. “Ackley, we are quite aware that the field emitters cannot ‘stop’ cosmic rays. However, if the shielding is produced by generators tethered to the ship at a range of four kilometers or more, the fields can be biased to slightly alter the trajectory of the rays. Exposure levels in the protected sections of the ship will decrease by over eighty percent—perhaps more. The efficacy of this deflection strategy is well-documented by the surviving accounts of two prior Exodates.”

If Ackley had heard Harrod’s explanation, he gave no sign of it. “Overlord Mellis, there is a further issue I must raise. Just today, the HouseMoot rejected our third request for uranium. Without fuel for our nuclear back-up plant, how do they expect us to reinitiate fusion if the capacitors lose their charge?”

Bikrut glanced at Harrod, who shrugged. “It is hardly surprising that our enemies are slow to furnish us with materials from which we could make more weapons of retribution. Particularly given our present possession of an orbital launch platform.”

Overlord Bikrut frowned. “And yet we cannot relinquish the failsafe codes for our ground based-nuclear arsenal until we have passed into the outer system. Once there, we can allow them to disarm our missiles—but not before. Harrod?”

“Yes, my Overlord?”

“Recontact Verone. He seems to—favor—you. Make a personal appeal; explain our need for nuclear fuel rods, and also for the removal of the biometric security protocols on the away-craft. I make it your responsibility to solve these problems.”

Well, Harrod thought, now I’ll have more gray hairs to join the ones that just started coming in. But what he said was: “Yes, my Overlord.”

— 5 —

Harrod hur-Mellis held himself steady with a hand-rung located beside the aft-facing observation port. Back at the stern, the last of the Ark’s four tug-tenders was making its hard dock. Once attached, the tugs would both provide fuel to the on-board fusion engines, as well as adding their own considerable thrust. One hundred and sixty days from now, their assist-fuel expended, the robot ships would detach and return home.