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were necessary—but he would not be Foremost if he did not reflexively assess risks, plan options, prepare for contingencies.
Any contingency. He thrummed his throat for the attention of his tactical officer.
“Sir?” Arblen Ems Rashk Lothwer scurried to his side with a clatter of toe talons on steel deck. Dependable, dedicated Lothwer.
“Prisoners secured?” Mashkith’s front eyes never left the tactical display.
“Yes, sir!” his aide agreed. “Lockdown complete. Access codes reset. No risk of interference from that source.”
“Always some risk,” responded the Foremost. Lothwer flinched at the soft-spoken rebuke—as well he should.
The human broadcast chattered on. “The shuttle carrying the UP delegation is settling onto the de-spun docking platform at the bow of the alien craft. The ship’s main body is rotating about twice per minute, presumably to simulate gravity for those inside. Two rotations per minute may not sound like much, but because of the ship’s size, it gives the outer surface a velocity above 150 kilometers per hour. Anyone so foolish as to attempt standing on the outer hull would instantly be flung into space!
“In the telephoto close-up, you can see the flames of the UP shuttle’s maneuvering engines. Touchdown is imminent … the shuttle has landed.” Sensors within the docking station confirmed contact. “How tiny our courier ship seems in comparison!”
“Rotation up,” Mashkith ordered. Shipboard instruments and human broadcasts alike showed the magnetically coupled docking platform turning faster and faster to match rotational velocities with the main body of the starship. Other magnets held the shuttle in place as the centrifugal force grew. When spins matched, the platform would again be accessible from the on-axis main airlock.
“Lothwer,” Mashkith said. The friendly tone was meant to ease the sting from the moments-earlier rebuke. “Honor guard to assembly point. Time now for the welcoming of our guests.”
Time now, therefore, for strict adherence to the plan.
An unexpected bonus of Corinne’s return to the airwaves, mused Helmut, was the restoration of order on the Odyssey ‘s bridge. As ship’s owner she found no value in tidiness, but as a reporter she shunned clutter in her improvised studio. Whatever worked.
She launched into yet another recap, stalling until the diplomats disembarked from their shuttle. Helmut scarcely heard her, concentrating instead on his 3-V command display. Space around the starship swarmed with spacecraft. Four frigates from the tiny Galilean navy, Corinne had reported, were under the temporary command of a UP officer from Himalia. The prison base had provided two of its own armed vessels.
The space-traffic-control wavelengths crackled with orders for and threats to the many civilian ships. Some vessels carried media reps, others diplomatic observers, most thrill seekers from across the many moons of Jupiter. Few from out-system had had time to arrive. Yet. Helmut frowned at the chaos.
“To me, the starship most resembles an orbital habitat, a giant cylinder carved whole from an asteroid, hollowed, and spun up for gravity. Once again, the damaged portion of its hull rolls into view.” Corinne had cleaned herself up for the broadcast. He had forgotten she owned clothes not a mass of wrinkles. “There is surely a tale of adventure and bravery surrounding that mishap, a story this reporter will do her best to bring you.”
The region was simply too crowded for most ships to maintain position by choice of orbit. Ships a little closer to Jupiter than the starship slowly gained on the visitor, and were repeatedly commanded to fall back. Ships a little farther from Jupiter than the starship as predictably fell behind until they pulsed their engines to creep nearer. Of course one speeds up by dropping to a lower orbit and slows down by rising to a higher one. Each course correction raised fresh prospects of collision. More and
Any contingency. He thrummed his throat for the attention of his tactical officer.
“Sir?” Arblen Ems Rashk Lothwer scurried to his side with a clatter of toe talons on steel deck. Dependable, dedicated Lothwer.
“Prisoners secured?” Mashkith’s front eyes never left the tactical display.
“Yes, sir!” his aide agreed. “Lockdown complete. Access codes reset. No risk of interference from that source.”
“Always some risk,” responded the Foremost. Lothwer flinched at the soft-spoken rebuke—as well he should.
The human broadcast chattered on. “The shuttle carrying the UP delegation is settling onto the de-spun docking platform at the bow of the alien craft. The ship’s main body is rotating about twice per minute, presumably to simulate gravity for those inside. Two rotations per minute may not sound like much, but because of the ship’s size, it gives the outer surface a velocity above 150 kilometers per hour. Anyone so foolish as to attempt standing on the outer hull would instantly be flung into space!
“In the telephoto close-up, you can see the flames of the UP shuttle’s maneuvering engines. Touchdown is imminent … the shuttle has landed.” Sensors within the docking station confirmed contact. “How tiny our courier ship seems in comparison!”
“Rotation up,” Mashkith ordered. Shipboard instruments and human broadcasts alike showed the magnetically coupled docking platform turning faster and faster to match rotational velocities with the main body of the starship. Other magnets held the shuttle in place as the centrifugal force grew. When spins matched, the platform would again be accessible from the on-axis main airlock.
“Lothwer,” Mashkith said. The friendly tone was meant to ease the sting from the moments-earlier rebuke. “Honor guard to assembly point. Time now for the welcoming of our guests.”
Time now, therefore, for strict adherence to the plan.
An unexpected bonus of Corinne’s return to the airwaves, mused Helmut, was the restoration of order on the Odyssey ‘s bridge. As ship’s owner she found no value in tidiness, but as a reporter she shunned clutter in her improvised studio. Whatever worked.
She launched into yet another recap, stalling until the diplomats disembarked from their shuttle. Helmut scarcely heard her, concentrating instead on his 3-V command display. Space around the starship swarmed with spacecraft. Four frigates from the tiny Galilean navy, Corinne had reported, were under the temporary command of a UP officer from Himalia. The prison base had provided two of its own armed vessels.
The space-traffic-control wavelengths crackled with orders for and threats to the many civilian ships. Some vessels carried media reps, others diplomatic observers, most thrill seekers from across the many moons of Jupiter. Few from out-system had had time to arrive. Yet. Helmut frowned at the chaos.
“To me, the starship most resembles an orbital habitat, a giant cylinder carved whole from an asteroid, hollowed, and spun up for gravity. Once again, the damaged portion of its hull rolls into view.” Corinne had cleaned herself up for the broadcast. He had forgotten she owned clothes not a mass of wrinkles. “There is surely a tale of adventure and bravery surrounding that mishap, a story this reporter will do her best to bring you.”
The region was simply too crowded for most ships to maintain position by choice of orbit. Ships a little closer to Jupiter than the starship slowly gained on the visitor, and were repeatedly commanded to fall back. Ships a little farther from Jupiter than the starship as predictably fell behind until they pulsed their engines to creep nearer. Of course one speeds up by dropping to a lower orbit and slows down by rising to a higher one. Each course correction raised fresh prospects of collision. More and
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