#5 gate along the IF-57 (short for Interstellar Frontier #57) grew closer and larger. The IF-57 was an exceptionally long spacelane, running due north into dead space. It was a union-funded attempt to reach its greedy paws into the unknown. The IF-57 was continually growing longer, presently ending with gate #97. Few people actually had a good reason to use the lane, since there was precious little civilization along its length, and nothing had yet been found to justify the expense of creating it.
Well, all that's about to change, isn't it? Kieran took a long swig from his water bottle, and then set it in the holder beside his flight chair. The discovery of a previously unknown belt with rich tetrillium deposits will give people ample reason to use the IF-57. There was just one thing bothering him. Why had no one discovered the belt? It wasn't that far from the lane. Engineers and cartographers should have discovered it when they were constructing the gates. So why was this particular belt uncharted?
Kieran frowned. The belts are always in motion. Maybe it wasn't there when they were constructing the gates? Shaking his head, Kieran reached beneath his seat and triggered the release for his chair. He slid it back along the rails to give himself more leg room; then, feeling along the side of his armrest, he pulled a lever, letting out a foot rest. Reclining his chair as far as it would go, Kieran settled in for another, longer nap. In his business, he had to catch sleep wherever he could.
The autopilot would wake him if any unusual situations arose. Closing his eyes slowly, lazily, Kieran summoned an image of Jilly to mind, hoping they could continue where they'd left off.
* * *
The Fat Chance emerged from trispace, for the umpteenth time, at gate #26 along the IF-57. Kieran's destination.
“Finally!” Kieran sighed and slid his chair forward, popping his foot rest back in.
Instead of sleeping, for the past hour he'd been staring at the blinking green and blue lights on the ceiling of his flitter, his mind going in circles, from Jilly, to his brother, to the mystery of the uncharted belt he was about to claim — and back to Jilly again.
In hindsight, sleep would have been more productive, but the IF-57 was a very winding spacelane, and he'd given up on sleep after the first five gates. From gate #5 to #26, that was 42 sleep-disrupting jolts into and out of trispace. Somehow in his sleepy brain, he hadn’t found the sense to crank up the inertial dampeners. By the time it had occurred to him, he was thoroughly sick of trying to catch up on sleep.
Kieran snapped off the autopilot and guided his flitter toward the distant, western edge of the modest sphere of surrounding space which his sensors could illuminate. That sphere was entirely empty. The number 26 gate was nothing but a random bend in the greater spacelane. Bringing up his father's starmap, Kieran set a waypoint where the belt was supposed to be, and nosed up by 15 degrees until the glowing green HUD overlay of that waypoint was dead center in his ship's targeting reticle. The belt was invisible to the naked eye and sensors alike.
Bracing himself, Kieran set acceleration to maximum — 110 µA/s 2 . Compared to a Navy interceptor, that was nothing, but it still pinned Kieran mercilessly to the back of his flight chair — Kieran kept his initial dampeners dialed to 90%, so that he could still feel some of the effects. A little g-force was helpful to keep a pilot oriented in space.
After a handful of seconds at maximum thrust, Kieran killed his engines and let his flitter drift. No point wasting more fuel than he had to. He'd waited all night and half the morning for his brother to get around to sending him the money he needed for the trip; he could wait another few minutes to tag his claim.
Kieran spent those idle moments of waiting appreciating the bold, starry beauty of space. Without even the glare of a nearby sun to diminish those stars, they
Well, all that's about to change, isn't it? Kieran took a long swig from his water bottle, and then set it in the holder beside his flight chair. The discovery of a previously unknown belt with rich tetrillium deposits will give people ample reason to use the IF-57. There was just one thing bothering him. Why had no one discovered the belt? It wasn't that far from the lane. Engineers and cartographers should have discovered it when they were constructing the gates. So why was this particular belt uncharted?
Kieran frowned. The belts are always in motion. Maybe it wasn't there when they were constructing the gates? Shaking his head, Kieran reached beneath his seat and triggered the release for his chair. He slid it back along the rails to give himself more leg room; then, feeling along the side of his armrest, he pulled a lever, letting out a foot rest. Reclining his chair as far as it would go, Kieran settled in for another, longer nap. In his business, he had to catch sleep wherever he could.
The autopilot would wake him if any unusual situations arose. Closing his eyes slowly, lazily, Kieran summoned an image of Jilly to mind, hoping they could continue where they'd left off.
* * *
The Fat Chance emerged from trispace, for the umpteenth time, at gate #26 along the IF-57. Kieran's destination.
“Finally!” Kieran sighed and slid his chair forward, popping his foot rest back in.
Instead of sleeping, for the past hour he'd been staring at the blinking green and blue lights on the ceiling of his flitter, his mind going in circles, from Jilly, to his brother, to the mystery of the uncharted belt he was about to claim — and back to Jilly again.
In hindsight, sleep would have been more productive, but the IF-57 was a very winding spacelane, and he'd given up on sleep after the first five gates. From gate #5 to #26, that was 42 sleep-disrupting jolts into and out of trispace. Somehow in his sleepy brain, he hadn’t found the sense to crank up the inertial dampeners. By the time it had occurred to him, he was thoroughly sick of trying to catch up on sleep.
Kieran snapped off the autopilot and guided his flitter toward the distant, western edge of the modest sphere of surrounding space which his sensors could illuminate. That sphere was entirely empty. The number 26 gate was nothing but a random bend in the greater spacelane. Bringing up his father's starmap, Kieran set a waypoint where the belt was supposed to be, and nosed up by 15 degrees until the glowing green HUD overlay of that waypoint was dead center in his ship's targeting reticle. The belt was invisible to the naked eye and sensors alike.
Bracing himself, Kieran set acceleration to maximum — 110 µA/s 2 . Compared to a Navy interceptor, that was nothing, but it still pinned Kieran mercilessly to the back of his flight chair — Kieran kept his initial dampeners dialed to 90%, so that he could still feel some of the effects. A little g-force was helpful to keep a pilot oriented in space.
After a handful of seconds at maximum thrust, Kieran killed his engines and let his flitter drift. No point wasting more fuel than he had to. He'd waited all night and half the morning for his brother to get around to sending him the money he needed for the trip; he could wait another few minutes to tag his claim.
Kieran spent those idle moments of waiting appreciating the bold, starry beauty of space. Without even the glare of a nearby sun to diminish those stars, they
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