Read Online Day of the Dragonstar by Thomas F. Monteleone, David Bischoff - Free Book Online
Authors: Thomas F. Monteleone, David Bischoff
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situation, who could blame him?
Lieutenant Huff leaned over and said in his usual mild voice, “Channel clear, sir.”
“Right. Thanks.” Coopersmith cleared his voice, and snapped on his headphone mike. “Copernicus Base. This is the Heinlein. Coopersmith here.”
He glanced over his shoulders and gave a wink of reassurance to the others. That was important at this point, and Coopersmith tried to maintain a spirit of bonhomie with everyone to try and relax them. All except two remained expressionless. Doctor Hagar was frowning with intense concentration, as though it was his will power alone that made this expedition possible. He’d said almost as much once, allowing that if it weren’t for his efforts amidst the public in the past years, the space program might have been extremely curtailed. The bounds of the man’s egotism never failed to astound Coopersmith. He studied science the way a person obsessed with genealogy might study his family tree, and with the assumption that he was indeed at the uppermost branches of intelligent development. Doctor Thalberg smiled pleasantly at him, which was a welcome relief. He could use that kind of space medicine anytime.
“Affirmative, Heinlein,” came a voice, deep and crackling, from the speaker grille. “What is it, Captain?”
“We are prepared to start the disarming operation. Request check on telemetered data. Do you get a good make on the visual?”
“One moment, Heinlein.”
Coopersmith waited along with the others in silence.
Waiting, thought Coopersmith. There was a lot of that in Deep Space.
They’d waited awhile to get here. The IASA Planetary Probeship Heinlein had hurtled through the light-shot darkness of space on a course here that formed a great, quasi-linear trajectory. Powered by high-thrust, continuous-impulse Lukodyanov engines, the ship had made a continuous-thrust hyperbolic transfer to rendezvous.
The Heinlein, by IASA standards, was a moderately large ship — more than a hundred meters in length. Since it was a Deep-Space vessel which would never fly in any planet’s atmosphere, no thought had been given to aerodynamic design. The control section, located at the bow, resembled the head of a mako shark, but without the smoothed edges. Below the forward viewport yawned a large ram-scoop, which enforced the shark image. Trailing off behind the control section was a thinner, rectilinear fuselage which contained flier cells, crew quarters, equipment hold, launch bays for planetary probes and lander, life-support modules, and the energy converters. Beyond the fuselage, at the aft end, were the engines — large conical funnels in four groups of three. All along the hull, ungainly superstructure dishes and radio-receiving parabolas were placed. In terms of sophistication, the Heinlein made the old LEM modules of the first moon landings look like the Wright Brothers’ gas-powered kite.
As grand a vessel as the Heinlein was, it was dwarfed into insignificance alongside the alien cylinder. So immense was Artifact One, that if viewed from a distance, the Heinlein alongside appeared no larger than a dust-mote trying to attach itself to the alien hull.
As they waited, Commander Douglas Fratz just gazed at the ship, shaking his head slowly. “My God, those engines . . . Can you imagine the thrust they must have in them?” His voice was surprisingly soft for his build, which was large and muscular. He wore his reddish-blond hair long although it was beginning to thin at an early age. He sported a neatly trimmed beard that Iooked like a chin strap to keep on his hair. He’d accompanied Colonel Phineas Kemp on the first manned probe to Pluto, earning a commendation for his service during the long, arduous journey.
“I think what interests IASA most,” said Coopersmith, “is the drive.”
“Hmm?” returned Fratz.
“Drive!” Doctor Hagar said, like a teacher talking to a small child. “Interstellar drive! By what method did this ship get
Lieutenant Huff leaned over and said in his usual mild voice, “Channel clear, sir.”
“Right. Thanks.” Coopersmith cleared his voice, and snapped on his headphone mike. “Copernicus Base. This is the Heinlein. Coopersmith here.”
He glanced over his shoulders and gave a wink of reassurance to the others. That was important at this point, and Coopersmith tried to maintain a spirit of bonhomie with everyone to try and relax them. All except two remained expressionless. Doctor Hagar was frowning with intense concentration, as though it was his will power alone that made this expedition possible. He’d said almost as much once, allowing that if it weren’t for his efforts amidst the public in the past years, the space program might have been extremely curtailed. The bounds of the man’s egotism never failed to astound Coopersmith. He studied science the way a person obsessed with genealogy might study his family tree, and with the assumption that he was indeed at the uppermost branches of intelligent development. Doctor Thalberg smiled pleasantly at him, which was a welcome relief. He could use that kind of space medicine anytime.
“Affirmative, Heinlein,” came a voice, deep and crackling, from the speaker grille. “What is it, Captain?”
“We are prepared to start the disarming operation. Request check on telemetered data. Do you get a good make on the visual?”
“One moment, Heinlein.”
Coopersmith waited along with the others in silence.
Waiting, thought Coopersmith. There was a lot of that in Deep Space.
They’d waited awhile to get here. The IASA Planetary Probeship Heinlein had hurtled through the light-shot darkness of space on a course here that formed a great, quasi-linear trajectory. Powered by high-thrust, continuous-impulse Lukodyanov engines, the ship had made a continuous-thrust hyperbolic transfer to rendezvous.
The Heinlein, by IASA standards, was a moderately large ship — more than a hundred meters in length. Since it was a Deep-Space vessel which would never fly in any planet’s atmosphere, no thought had been given to aerodynamic design. The control section, located at the bow, resembled the head of a mako shark, but without the smoothed edges. Below the forward viewport yawned a large ram-scoop, which enforced the shark image. Trailing off behind the control section was a thinner, rectilinear fuselage which contained flier cells, crew quarters, equipment hold, launch bays for planetary probes and lander, life-support modules, and the energy converters. Beyond the fuselage, at the aft end, were the engines — large conical funnels in four groups of three. All along the hull, ungainly superstructure dishes and radio-receiving parabolas were placed. In terms of sophistication, the Heinlein made the old LEM modules of the first moon landings look like the Wright Brothers’ gas-powered kite.
As grand a vessel as the Heinlein was, it was dwarfed into insignificance alongside the alien cylinder. So immense was Artifact One, that if viewed from a distance, the Heinlein alongside appeared no larger than a dust-mote trying to attach itself to the alien hull.
As they waited, Commander Douglas Fratz just gazed at the ship, shaking his head slowly. “My God, those engines . . . Can you imagine the thrust they must have in them?” His voice was surprisingly soft for his build, which was large and muscular. He wore his reddish-blond hair long although it was beginning to thin at an early age. He sported a neatly trimmed beard that Iooked like a chin strap to keep on his hair. He’d accompanied Colonel Phineas Kemp on the first manned probe to Pluto, earning a commendation for his service during the long, arduous journey.
“I think what interests IASA most,” said Coopersmith, “is the drive.”
“Hmm?” returned Fratz.
“Drive!” Doctor Hagar said, like a teacher talking to a small child. “Interstellar drive! By what method did this ship get
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