The Directorate Destroyer Moscow came out of the silver-blue flash of its star drive breaking into normal space and began its three-million-mile patrol. The 250-foot-long Directorate ship moved smoothly through space with its hull glowing bright white from its clear armor coating and the discharge of its Coronado power cells. Most of the thirty-five crew members were asleep. Captain Alexander Kosiev slouched in his command chair and watched the sensor screens showing the space they were traveling through. He would often glance through the viewport to see more than a billion stars, some of which were billions of light-years distant, yet it was stark and lifeless where he was traveling, and the nearest star was four parsecs away. This patrol was mind-numbingly boring and there really wasn’t much to do. His ship would jump half a light-year and read its sensors while it cruised for three million miles, then jump another half light-year. This process repeated itself throughout the entire patrol, and so far the Moscow had never found anything that warranted any attention, much less action. Captain Kosiev’s assigned duty was to patrol the twenty-light-year limit that bordered the Cainth Empire between Earth Base six and seven and make sure no one crossed it from either direction. So far no one had ever come close. Still, they couldn’t take any chances. He glanced over at the electronics screen and it remained blank. The sheer emptiness of space where the Moscow was traveling made Kosiev wish he could see his home again. He took the bag of popcorn he had asked his quartermaster to bring to the bridge, opened it, and then took a few kernels and started munching on them. “It’s a wonder that I don’t weigh four hundred pounds with all the popcorn I eat,” he thought. The lights were low on the small bridge, and the various control boards that lined the walls provided most of the low-level light. The lights were almost like the stars that could be seen through the viewport. The sheer immensity of the universe he could see outside his ship humbled him; it made him feel small. The deep blackness of space made those distant stars shine like brilliant diamonds, and Kosiev recognized one of them and knew that humans were still in caves when the light of that star had left to arrive at his current location. “Someday I’m going to visit that star,” he thought.
He would often discuss with Lieutenant Mikado, his sensor officer, the places he would travel were it not for the twenty-light-year limit the Alliance had imposed. “Sir, I just don’t understand how Adam Douglas discovered the principles of the star drive,” Mikado said. “Our technology was so primitive at that time and you have to admit that being able to jump around the universe with no loss of time was a major discovery.”
Kosiev liked passing the long hours with this type of discussion; it helped keep the bridge crew alert. He chewed a few more kernels and said, “It really wasn’t a quantum leap in genius. He developed an instrument to measure the resonance of space around him. It was then a certainty that he would uncover the fact that no spot in the universe has the same resonance on the frequency reader he was using. He never got the same reading anywhere he went. Once he developed it so that he could measure the resonance and vibration of stars, then the hard part was over.”
Mikado leaned back and asked, “Why do you say that? Reading the resonance of stars or galaxies doesn’t give you a star drive.”
“That’s true, but once he turned his viewer that gave resonance readings on a star, he made two huge discoveries; one was that that particular resonance frequency of that distant star was being read in real time. There was no loss of time because of distance, unlike the speed of light, where in some cases light took centuries to reach Earth from the star it left. The second discovery was building a field that would contain one of his devices that could vibrate the field at any resonance he chose, which led to its immediate disappearance; then simple logic was all that was necessary to make a star drive.”
“How do you get that?” Mikado asked. “It took him another ten years to finally build a drive.”
“Yes, but he had to eliminate all the other possibilities before he could understand it,” Kosiev said. “He learned that every place in the universe has its own unique resonance frequency and that anything that resonates at the same frequency as another place will immediately leave normal space and time and, for lack of a better term, instantaneously jump to the place that resonates the corresponding frequency. Of course the jumper must be surrounded by a field resonating at the frequency of the place targeted for a jump. If you remember, he built a small field and resonating device and put in the coordinates of the table on the other side of his lab. Once the resonance matched, the small device immediately appeared on the other table.”
“But then he was stuck,” Mikado said. “It would move no further than the width of his lab. It was five years later on a trip to the orbit of Jupiter to work on the engines of mining equipment that he tried his little experiment again, and the device disappeared out of the ship. He had an ‘Aha’ moment and discovered that the sun’s gravity prevented the device from resonating over any distance within Jupiter’s orbit. He actually modified the field around the ship he was in and scanned the resonance of Neptune and actually jumped the ship to its orbit and then back to Jupiter. It probably would have taken many more years if he had not made that trip to Jupiter.”
Kosiev nodded and said, “But he did make the trip, and now we jump from star to star. He also learned that it was impossible to jump into a planet or star because just like the sun, its gravity would force the jumping ship out of star drive.”
Mikado thought for a few moments and said, “Where do you think ships go when they jump? They don’t stay in normal space.”
“No one has ever really answered that,” Kosiev said. “But there are some theories. The current theory is that it’s really not space at all; sort of like null space or no space. Some of our higher thinkers believe that every place in the universe is in contact with every other place in that ‘no’ space, sort of like it was at the moment just before the big bang when the universe was the size of the smallest atom just before it exploded. The resonance of each place is still locked up atom sized in ‘no’ space because unlike the physical universe, the resonance frequency space didn’t expand and is still the size of that small atom and when you match the resonance frequency of somewhere else you’re actually not moving any distance at all in null space. That’s why it’s instantaneous when you emerge back into real space.”
Mikado leaned back in his chair, stared at his console, and finally said, “Every advanced race eventually makes the same discovery, which is why the Alliance has so many members. Maybe someday we’ll be able to go out more than twenty light-years.”
Kosiev looked out at the stars, “I hope so, I really do.”
Mikado then leaned back in his chair and said, “It’s also strange that every race we’ve encountered so far breathes oxygen. I wonder what the odds are of that happening strictly by accident.”
Kosiev took another mouthful of popcorn and said, “It’s a big universe, Mr. Mikado; perhaps our galaxy is easier for oxygen breathers to evolve in.” Then he laughed and said, “Maybe an oxygen breather set the ball rolling millions of years ago.”
They still had six more days before they arrived at Earth Station Seven, and Kosiev was looking forward to three days of rest and relaxation. Most of his ship’s crew was sleeping, leaving only Lieutenant Mikado (his sensor officer) and Ensign Smith, his helmsman, on the bridge. The background hum of the fusion reactors had a calming effect and helped most of the crew to fall asleep. Even when off the ship, most of his crew had a recording of that hum playing in their rooms; it just didn’t feel right when it was missing.
“Sir, there’s something peculiar here,” Lieutenant Mikado said.
Kosiev stopped, his hand full of popcorn a few inches from his mouth, and said, “What’s that?”
“I’m getting a small return from our Coronado screen about sixty thousand miles off the starboard side.”
Kosiev put the popcorn down and got up to take a look. He saw the small blip on the sensor display.
Since the invention of the Coronado power cell, it had found wide usage in weapons development. One of the developments was the Coronado screen, where the entire surface of a warship would be covered with Coronado power cells and then covered with a hard, clear armor. The cells would be powered by four fusion reactors, and when the cells were charged they would emit an extremely low power energy field as it bled off excess power that would extend out six hundred thousand miles. The bonus of using this field for sensors was that it didn’t use any extra power. The emitted field had such little energy that it was hard to detect more than fifty miles from its source. Anything that entered the field would cause a disruption that would be detected by the processors controlling the field. The other benefit of having the ship covered with power cells was that they would also absorb and store energy from any star they passed, which made use of the fusion reactors to charge them unnecessary most of the time. One of the primary design functions of the cells was that if a ship was attacked, the screen would be contracted to within three hundred yards and then would solidify into a protective force field. Each of the cells would discharge energy into a pattern that totally surrounded the ship. Anything that struck the screen would be instantly burned out of existence. Even then the power cells would absorb the energy from that destruction, replacing the energy that was used. It was like shortening the flame on a welder. The tighter it was pulled in, the hotter the flame. As the screen pulled close to the ship it became impenetrable. The only thing that could come
