they have any exit velocity means they can generate excess energy-kinetic energy, in this case-before shifting. That means that they might not even need the weeks of near-relativistic preacceleration that our ships require. And here’s another indicator of just how far ahead of us they are: take a close look at the hull design.”
Caine did: it wasn’t at all akin to the long modular frames of Earth’s gargantuan shift carriers. Shaped like a blunted arrowhead with down-angled edges, the Dornaani vessel was essentially a delta-shaped design. As Caine studied the finer details, he noticed what seemed to be vents or intakes on the underside of the ship’s drooping “wings.” “Are those-?”
“Fuel scoops, yeah.”
“And the significance of that is what?” Elena’s question announced her arrival: Caine turned, saw Durniak, Trevor, and Hwang file in behind her.
Wasserman leaned far back in his chair. “Well, if the Dornaani can use any gas giant-and maybe any water world-as a gas station where they can tank up on hydrogen, then their experience with interstellar travel is going to be entirely different than ours. In every one of our systems, we have to maintain a multi-billion dollar infrastructure to provide fueling and cargo handling for our shift-carriers. But with a ship like theirs, you could conceivably go anywhere that there’s a gas giant insystem. Interstellar travel made fast, cheap, and easy.”
Trevor squinted at the arrowhead image of the Dornaani ship. “No sign of fuel booms or receptacles for tanker interface?”
“Maybe theirs don’t look like ours, or are hidden, but I’m guessing they work with internal fuel only. The architecture is all wrong for drop tanks.”
Caine turned to look at the ship again. “So that tiny hull also holds all the fuel they need.”
“Looks like it.”
“So how in the hell…?” Caine let his astonishment swallow the many different technological puzzles posed by the ship they were staring at.
“How the hell, indeed.” Lemuel shook his head, kept scanning the data.
Downing frowned. “It’s disconcerting that they can put that kind of performance in this little box.”
“And it’s a damned mystery box,” interrupted Lemuel. “We’re hitting it with ladar scans, but I’m getting garbage back.”
“Garbage?”
“Yeah. Beam reflection is shot to hell. I’m just getting a froth of photons pushed back at me. And I’ve got no return at all on the radar-no, wait: radar is registering their hull, now.”
Caine studied the screens; he couldn’t make much sense of the reams of data. But he had a guess. He leaned toward the lieutenant who was the suite’s ranking officer. “Tell me: as you got radar contact just now, did it look like anything you’ve seen before?”
She thought for a moment. “No-wait, yes: like when you’re trying to get through electronic countermeasures and then the target’s ECM goes offline. The garbage straightens out and you’ve suddenly got clean data. Except here there wasn’t any signal at all-and then, all of a sudden, there was.”
Lemuel turned around. “What are you thinking?”
“That they decided to give us a better look by turning off their electronic stealth measures.”
“But active stealth measures would put out an energy signature-and we’re not getting any electromagnetic emissions
“That’s because they must have the system built right into their hull material: probably some kind of electrobonded matrix-”
Lemuel’s down-curving eyebrows reversed upward into an arch of surprise. “Sure, some kind of radar absorbing and reflecting material that only works when they’re pushing current through it. Like stealth materials, only you’ve got an off-switch, since the antiradar molecular structures-or whatever-only have that property when they’re getting juiced.” Lemuel smiled at Caine. “And now, I’m thinking the same thing regarding the problems with our ladar. Probably some kind of hull coating that works like a scattering prism: breaks up coherent light. Might be a good defense against lasers, too.”
“Could be-but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Hey-it’s like you said about the Marine sergeant: I’m just doing my job.”
Caine smiled back.
The external commo screen was suddenly bright with data. Caine moved toward it, announced, “We’ve got activity on tight-beam commo,” and thought:
Chapter Thirty-Nine
MENTOR
Downing turned toward Caine. “What is it?”
“Don’t know yet. If I’m reading this screen correctly, the signal we’re receiving is high-speed, high- compression encrypted.”
Downing turned to the suite’s operator. “Is it the same data protocol as their first communique, four months ago?”
“Looks like it, sir. Decompressing and decoding now.”
“Excellent,” affirmed Visser with a decisive nod. “Mr. Wasserman, you will please continue to share your findings with us so we can collectively assess their strategic significance.”
Downing suppressed a smile. Visser was trying to sound like she had a firm grasp of the military implications of scientific data. However, the past week of joint preparations had proven that she did not. On the plus side, she took counsel well and not only listened to all the facts, but all the conjectures and hypotheses. And that was more important in a leader than a mastery of the theoretical sciences-or of any other esoteric discipline, for that matter.
However, Wasserman turned to look at Visser with an expression that was more sneer than smile: “Which findings are you most interested in, Ms. Visser? Spectrographic analysis of their hull materials and thrust exhaust? Gravimetric anomalies? Or maybe their bizarre shift signature? Or maybe you’re interested in something that I’ve overlooked?” When the ambassador did not rise to the bait, Wasserman’s sneer became more pronounced. “I’m ready to follow your scientific lead, Ms. Visser.” Visser tried to glare at him, but looked more like a deer caught in the headlights of advanced physics.
Downing bit his lip, wished Lemuel would let Visser off the hook.
Visser converted her failed glare into a severe look. “Tell us about the shift signature.”
“What-exactly-do you want to know about it?”
Visser sounded as though she had swallowed lye. “Start by telling us what a ‘shift signature’ is.”
Wasserman’s smile dimmed into a smug curve. “A shift signature is a collection of anomalous physical sequelae that result when extremely high energy-density levels induce space-time disruption of real-space interstellar superstring traces-”
Visser held up her hand. “Mr. Wasserman, please-you are the expert. Not us. In terms we understand, please.”
Wasserman leaned back, smiling, taking his time, letting Visser squirm. “So where would you like me to start, Ms. Visser? With high — chool physics?”
Visser became very pale, then very red. She was slowly raising her finger.
Caine stepped into the space between them. “Actually, Lemuel did a fine job of familiarizing me with the basics the other day. Major Patrone and I were, uh…napping when the shift drive was introduced, so we needed a review of its oddities. Maybe you could repeat that explanation here, Lemuel?”
Lemuel’s sneer faltered into a frown.
Downing almost nodded at Wasserman.
