Read Online Day of the Dragonstar by Thomas F. Monteleone, David Bischoff - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Thomas F. Monteleone, David Bischoff
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arrived.
“Affirmative, Captain. Colonel Kemp’s given the go-ahead. Any time you guys are ready.”
“Launching warheads now. Stand by, Copernicus . . .”
Coopersmith nodded to Commander Fratz, who keyed in the launch order to the Heinlein’s on-board computer. The ship shuddered slightly as the warheads were hunched. Instantly, tracking instruments displayed their data on the console screens. Small, three-dimensional blips closed in on a schematic representation of the targets. Noone spoke save for Coopersmith, who reported the closing distances in a half-whisper: “Trajectories are on-line . . . closing nicely . . . twenty meters and closing . . . ten . . . we have detonation!”
In the vacuum of space, the explosions on the surface of the alien ship transmitted no sound. They looked like brilliant crimson buds suddenly blossoming. The display grids of the console flickered as the sensors collected new information. Coopersmith could see that the first phase of the operation had been successful. The controlled explosions had obliterated the defensive blisters without seriously affecting the alien’s hull.
“Copernicus, this is Coopersmith. So far, so good. Scanners indicate no loss of pressure on Artifact One. We are launching a dummy probe. Stand by.”
Fratz waited for Coopersmith’s nod, then keyed in the launch.
Heads turned to watch as the small torpedo-shaped probe, equipped with shock-absorbing landing legs, slowly descended toward the surface of the alien ship. No one spoke as it closed within range of the defensive systems. Closer and closer it descended until its automatic devices fired off a short burst of retrofire and the probe settled gently upon the surface, holding fast with magnetic seals,
“Copernicus, we have a touchdown!” cried Coopersmith, exultant.
“Affirmative, Captain. Congratulations,” returned the communications man from Copernicus.
The crew cheered, and Coopersmith swept off his communications helmet, and turned blue eyes upon the company.
“I do believe that we’re next!” he said.
* * *
Ian Coopersmith kept his thick dark hair cut short for moments such as these. Long hair could be rather a problem sometimes in an EVA suit. Coopersmith tried to keep his problems down to bare minimum.
“Ready, Valdone?”
The dark Italian turned amused eyes and Sicilian nose toward Coopersmith. “I’ve been ready for this for a long time, Captain.”
Coopersmith gave him a thumb’s up signal. They donned their helmets and switched on the life-support equipment.
After a quick jump through the airlock of the Heinlein’s number one lander, which had drifted down from the Probeship and effected a perfect landing near the outlines of what appeared to be an entrance bay, they floated cautiously down to the hull.
Led by Coopersmith, they carefully walked with magnetic boots across the surface of the alien ship. The lander — which looked to Ian rather like an overfed tarantula — waited patiently behind them
A historic occasion, thought Coopersmith. Yes indeed. Man’s first physical contact with an extraterrestrial craft. But there was no trumpet fanfare, no live TVcoverage to Earth’s billions, no eloquently-rigged speeches for the history books. There would be time for such things later, maybe. History books were not on Coopersmith’s mind as he appraised the contours of the hatch below their feet.
The outlining seam of the hatch was quite large: approximately ten meters wide and fifteen high. Several small rectangles that measured slightly more than two meters each were on each side of the hatch. Their function or relationship to the larger, seamed configuration was not clear. Coopersmith used a sensory instrument which resembled a fluoroscope: Mark 8 Betatron Scanner, which allowed the user to view the interior of metallic objects of varying degrees of density and opacity.
Incredible, thought Coopersmith. An airlock quite comparable to IASA design.
Although he and
“Affirmative, Captain. Colonel Kemp’s given the go-ahead. Any time you guys are ready.”
“Launching warheads now. Stand by, Copernicus . . .”
Coopersmith nodded to Commander Fratz, who keyed in the launch order to the Heinlein’s on-board computer. The ship shuddered slightly as the warheads were hunched. Instantly, tracking instruments displayed their data on the console screens. Small, three-dimensional blips closed in on a schematic representation of the targets. Noone spoke save for Coopersmith, who reported the closing distances in a half-whisper: “Trajectories are on-line . . . closing nicely . . . twenty meters and closing . . . ten . . . we have detonation!”
In the vacuum of space, the explosions on the surface of the alien ship transmitted no sound. They looked like brilliant crimson buds suddenly blossoming. The display grids of the console flickered as the sensors collected new information. Coopersmith could see that the first phase of the operation had been successful. The controlled explosions had obliterated the defensive blisters without seriously affecting the alien’s hull.
“Copernicus, this is Coopersmith. So far, so good. Scanners indicate no loss of pressure on Artifact One. We are launching a dummy probe. Stand by.”
Fratz waited for Coopersmith’s nod, then keyed in the launch.
Heads turned to watch as the small torpedo-shaped probe, equipped with shock-absorbing landing legs, slowly descended toward the surface of the alien ship. No one spoke as it closed within range of the defensive systems. Closer and closer it descended until its automatic devices fired off a short burst of retrofire and the probe settled gently upon the surface, holding fast with magnetic seals,
“Copernicus, we have a touchdown!” cried Coopersmith, exultant.
“Affirmative, Captain. Congratulations,” returned the communications man from Copernicus.
The crew cheered, and Coopersmith swept off his communications helmet, and turned blue eyes upon the company.
“I do believe that we’re next!” he said.
* * *
Ian Coopersmith kept his thick dark hair cut short for moments such as these. Long hair could be rather a problem sometimes in an EVA suit. Coopersmith tried to keep his problems down to bare minimum.
“Ready, Valdone?”
The dark Italian turned amused eyes and Sicilian nose toward Coopersmith. “I’ve been ready for this for a long time, Captain.”
Coopersmith gave him a thumb’s up signal. They donned their helmets and switched on the life-support equipment.
After a quick jump through the airlock of the Heinlein’s number one lander, which had drifted down from the Probeship and effected a perfect landing near the outlines of what appeared to be an entrance bay, they floated cautiously down to the hull.
Led by Coopersmith, they carefully walked with magnetic boots across the surface of the alien ship. The lander — which looked to Ian rather like an overfed tarantula — waited patiently behind them
A historic occasion, thought Coopersmith. Yes indeed. Man’s first physical contact with an extraterrestrial craft. But there was no trumpet fanfare, no live TVcoverage to Earth’s billions, no eloquently-rigged speeches for the history books. There would be time for such things later, maybe. History books were not on Coopersmith’s mind as he appraised the contours of the hatch below their feet.
The outlining seam of the hatch was quite large: approximately ten meters wide and fifteen high. Several small rectangles that measured slightly more than two meters each were on each side of the hatch. Their function or relationship to the larger, seamed configuration was not clear. Coopersmith used a sensory instrument which resembled a fluoroscope: Mark 8 Betatron Scanner, which allowed the user to view the interior of metallic objects of varying degrees of density and opacity.
Incredible, thought Coopersmith. An airlock quite comparable to IASA design.
Although he and
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