Exiles of Titan- The Martian Phase Page 2

  Deira relaxed at last. Her chest still hurt but her adrenaline levels were up and her intense green eyes blazed with excitement.

  ‘Way to go!’ she said. ‘One thing about this job – it’s never boring!’ She gazed at Adam, who was also wired, though still wheezing badly. ‘Thanks for the guiding hand, by the way – I wouldn’t have got out of there on my own.’

  Adam looked surprised. ‘What guiding hand? I couldn’t find you. It was all I could do to get out myself.’

  Chapter 2

  Chayka gazed out of the shuttle window while the little craft powered out of Earth’s gravity-well towards the waiting Q-ship. It was a far cry from the chemical rockets of twenty years ago with their bone-rattling, stomach-churning, high-G lift offs. Because of the QUAVER-powered gravity generators the ride was a comfortable one-G all the way and even atmospheric turbulence was almost imperceptible now that the new inertial dampeners had come on line. Chayka allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. None of this would have been possible without his discovery of sub-quantal physics.

  He glanced at his companion sitting in the seat in front of him. Nicolau Dominguez was Portuguese and had been his colleague and friend ever since their early days at the Moscow Institute. He had an extraordinary talent in the field of experimental sub-quantal physics and Chayka knew that the sub-quantal revolution could not have occurred without him.

  Nicolau was watching the azure blue of the upper atmosphere fade into the blackness of space, his short legs curled beneath him and his large, bulbous head pressed against the window. He was an achondroplastic dwarf, a figure of ridicule to some but to those who knew him a towering intellect, a phenomenon equal to Chayka himself. He was also one of the very few people Chayka truly respected.

  As if he were aware that Chayka was watching him, Nicolau turned and grinned.

  ‘An awesome sight, eh Sergei?’

  Chayka permitted no-one else to use that name. He had determined he would have no more use for it shortly after he moved to Cambridge. He was deliberately cultivating an image – a persona – Professor Chayka, the Father of sub-quantal physics and, by extension, the saviour of the world.

  ‘Indeed Nicolau,’ he said, ‘though I’d have happily done without it if I could have remained in Cambridge. It would have been far more comfortable working in familiar surroundings with the original team. How do you feel about relocating to Titan?’

  ‘I relish the prospect. It will provide us with the ideal conditions for our life-generation experiments and may be the catalyst for so much more. Even your past accomplishments may be eclipsed out there, Sergei.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ Chayka was less than convinced but had to admit there were distinct possibilities. It was not the transfer itself that rankled with him but the manner in which it had happened. For many years he’d been able to dictate his own terms when it came to his work, and it had been a huge shock when the enquiry had published its report and the Bureau Director had virtually ordered him to take his team to Titan. Perhaps Nicolau was right and he ought to embrace the opportunity offered.

  He turned back to the window to watch the shuttle make its final approach to the waiting Q-ship. The ship itself was vast, an ovoid bulk eight-hundred metres long and five-hundred wide. It hung in the void like some huge egg, the sunlight reflected off its burnished panels giving it the appearance of a gargantuan Christmas-tree bauble.

  This was the first time Chayka had seen a Q-ship. Powered by the now ubiquitous Quantum Vacuum Energy Reactors, colloquially known as QUAVERs, that had transformed Earth’s energy future almost overnight, this particular ship was also the first to boast the recently developed space hook that allowed it to drag itself through the very fabric of space. The speed gain over previous generations of space craft was impressive. Their current trip to Titan was scheduled to take only fourteen days – and that included a short stopover on Mars. Even the older generation of Q-ships would have taken over three months.

  He was continuing to muse on the wide-ranging applications that had been spawned by his discoveries when his thoughts were interrupted by the pilot’s voice informing them that they would shortly be docking. Chayka was one of only four passengers on the small craft, the others being Nicolau and two scientists on their way to take up appointments on Mars. He had no idea what to expect during the docking manoeuvre and he watched with considerable interest as the shuttle simply flew into a vast hangar in the Q-ship and settled down on its deck. It was much more like a landing than a docking.

  The huge hangar doors were closed and the hangar pressurised. Then the shuttle passengers were allowed to disembark. Chayka walked down the short flight of steps and stood for a moment, staring round at the vast cavern that was the hangar. His emotional repertoire didn’t extend to a sense of awe but he was nevertheless impressed by the size of the space and the realisation that this was only one component of the colossus that was the Q-ship. He felt a faint vibration coming through the floor. This and a soft background hum was the only evidence of the eight QUAVERs that powered everything from the ship’s engines, to the gravity generators, to the microwave ovens in the kitchen.

  The passengers were given a brief orientation tour of the ship before being taken to their cabins. Chayka was a little disappointed by the size of his cabin but at least it had a work desk and terminal so it would probably suffice. He unpacked his bags and had just finished ordering his things as he liked them when there was a rap at the door. It was Nicolau, staring up at him expectantly.

  ‘I wondered if we should join the rest of the team in the lounge, Sergei,’ he said. ‘The ship’s due to depart soon and, since this is the maiden voyage of this new type of Q-ship, the Captain’s throwing a small reception. I know you don’t like such things but you will be expected.’

  Chayka sighed and stroked his goatee beard absently. He was fully aware of his social limitations. He wasn’t a people person by any stretch of the imagination – and frankly he didn’t give a damn. However, he’d learned a little about the science of heading up a team over the years and knew that he had to jump through a few hoops to get the best out of the people working for him, even if he resented it.

  ‘You’re correct of course, Nicolau,’ he said, picking up his jacket. ‘Let us do our duty.’

  Together, they walked briskly down to the lounge where the reception was already underway. Chayka politely declined the offer of a drink from a smartly-dressed crewman on the way in. He still remembered the distant days of his childhood in Vladivostok. His father, a lowly labourer, had been woefully unequipped to provide for his large family even before Sergei came along as child number six. The fact that this latest addition proved to be a mathematical prodigy – a cuckoo in the family nest – sent his father completely over the top. Increasingly, he found solace in cheap vodka and, following protracted drinking sessions, he would vent his pent-up frustration and anger on both his long-suffering wife and young Sergei.

  The beatings had etched themselves into the very fibre of Sergei’s being and left him with a lifelong aversion to alcohol. Not only did he recognise it for the neurological poison it was, he also feared possible loss of control – like his father had lost control – and for Chayka, self-control was everything.

  Nicolau had no such concerns and helped himself to the proffered glass, grinning broadly.

  Chayka gazed round the room at the small assembly. In addition to the Captain and Executive Officer, who were presiding over the gathering, there were the two scientists going to Mars, a security team going, like himself, to Titan, and the other members of his team. A small but select group. He made his way over to the Captain and introduced himself.

  The Captain and XO were almost obsequious and Chayka found it mildly embarrassing even though he was used to being lauded and feted. He did his best in this most trying environment, working hard at the small talk and smiling courteously at the Captain’s jokes. It was the worst form of torture he knew of, yet he endured it for the sake of his image
. Finally, after what seemed an eternity but was probably no more than a few minutes, he felt able to make his excuses and join his team. They were standing in a group by the large forward view-panel and had been watching his performance. They shuffled round to make space for him.

  ‘Welcome Professor!’

  That was Simon Chandler, the only one of Chayka’s original team, with the exception of Nicolau, to make it through the psychological tests that were mandatory for anyone heading into space. Simon was a thirty-year-old British Mathematician who had worked in Chayka’s team at Cambridge ever since he’d completed his doctorate four years ago. He was undoubtedly clever, having already three seminal papers on sub-quantal mechanics to his credit, but at six foot three and all muscle he didn’t look like anyone’s idea of a mathematician. Unusually for a theoretician of his calibre he was also a keen sportsman.

  Chayka nodded to Simon and gratefully accepted the lemonade he’d procured for him. At least someone knew his preferences. He gazed round the rest of the team. Dominguez was obviously well known to him but the other three, while being familiar from the interviews, were still effectively strangers. He sipped his lemonade while he considered what to say but Simon pre-empted him.

  ‘We’ve all been getting acquainted, Professor,’ he said, with what Chayka felt was slightly forced bonhomie. ‘I know you were involved with the appointments but perhaps I can re-introduce our new colleagues? First we have the lovely Dr Tirzah Blumstein.’

  Tirzah glared at Simon and appeared to be about to protest but instead simply smiled and shook Chayka’s hand. For once, Chayka understood the nuances and determined to speak to Simon about it later. Yes, Dr Blumstein was physically striking, her dark brown hair framing an oval face with flawless skin and features in perfect proportion, but the mention of her looks was inappropriate, demeaning and unnecessary. She was an Israeli Biophysicist and came with glowing references. That was all that was important to him.

  ‘Dr Walther Altmeyer,’ said Simon, apparently enjoying himself.

  Chayka looked up at the man-mountain towering over him, his head almost touching the ceiling. He had to be six foot eight at least and probably three hundred pounds. Yes, he remembered him clearly enough, lumbering into the interview room and amazing everybody with his breadth of knowledge. Altmeyer smiled at Chayka and muttered something in his guttural version of English. He was German, and beneath his caveman looks was a brilliant engineer who’d recently been working in Grenoble on the construction of the second generation of transmission terminals that were used by Bureau agents. Chayka nodded and moved on to the final team member.

  ‘Dr Philippe Fournier,’ said Simon.

  The slightly-built Frenchman bowed slightly as Chayka took his hand and welcomed him to the team. He was the sub-quantal biochemist of the group and was going to be pivotal to the two major experiments Chayka had planned. He seemed quiet, reserved even, and Chayka thought he would be perfect for the job he had in mind.

  ‘And so we are complete,’ Simon said, and Chayka suddenly realised he was drunk. The slight flush, the dilated pupils – he should have noticed before. The man could easily make a fool of himself. He looked round the group again and now saw what he’d previously missed – the others were well aware of the problem. There was a distinct air of discomfort, everyone trying to appear at ease while casting wary glances at Simon. Drs Fournier and Blumstein seemed particularly uncomfortable and were shooting each other worried looks. There was clearly something going on here – undercurrents – and Chayka had never been good with undercurrents.

  ‘I’m delighted to meet the three of you again,’ Chayka said, ‘and I’m sure we’ll work extremely effectively together. This promises to be a most exciting opportunity for all of us.’

  ‘I think…’ Simon began, but Chayka didn’t intend to let him say what he thought for the time being.

  ‘I’m indebted to Dr Chandler for the introductions,’ he interrupted, ‘and for keeping you amused prior to my arrival. However, I think it will soon be departure time and I’m sure you’ll all wish to witness the event. Shall we go to the rear view-screen?’

  He moved off and the others followed him, relief evident on their faces. Simon remained where he was, glaring after them. He pointedly drained his glass and got another before joining them at the view-screen with the rest of the passengers. A few more minutes ticked by then the XO’s voice came over the comm.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen we’ll be departing very shortly. You won’t notice any apparent acceleration because of our new inertial dampeners – the only clue to our speed will be the rate at which Earth appears to shrink. For those not already in place, this can be witnessed from the rear view-screen.’

  A hush descended on the room and expectations mounted. There was a slight change in the tone of the QUAVER-powered engines when the space hook was initiated and then it was as if Earth had been suddenly yanked away on a piece of elastic, so rapidly did it recede. There was a loud cheer and everyone began talking at once. All but Chayka, who took one last look round and slipped out, making for the relative peace of his cabin. He’d had quite enough of the subtleties of human relationships for one night.

  Back in the lounge, Tirzah pulled Philippe to one side.

  ‘Do you think he noticed?’ she asked urgently.

  ‘I think he noticed something but I’m not convinced he’s equipped to interpret it.’ Phillipe smiled. ‘I wouldn’t worry about the professor, Tir. It’s that big lunk of a mathematician we need to watch. It’s obvious he wants you – and it’s equally obvious he doesn’t like me.’

  Tirzah glanced at Simon. He was pretending to ignore them, chatting rather too animatedly with one of the Mars scientists. However, every so often he’d look in their direction and glower. She could see what Philippe meant, but even so…

  ‘I guess we should be subtle about it and take care not to push it in his face,’ Philippe said. ‘We’ve still got to work with the guy after all, even if he is – what do they say in English – a prize prick?’

  Tirzah laughed, but having had her attention drawn to Simon’s obvious jealousy she was letting her imagination take over.

  Philippe looked uncertainly at her. ‘You’re sure you wouldn’t rather be with him? You must have mentally undressed him several times over the last few minutes.’

  Tirzah dragged her attention back to the frowning Frenchman and gave him one of her most radiant smiles.

  ‘Philippe! How could you think such a thing? Wait until this reception’s over and I’ll show you who I’d rather be with.’

  Philippe’s frown faded, to be replaced by an uncertain smile. Tirzah briefly let her hand touch his and took pleasure in the effect it had on him – then she surreptitiously let her eyes stray back to Simon for one last look.

  On the other side of the room, Security Chief Julio Cabello stood nursing his drink and watching the little human dramas play themselves out. He was so used to people-watching that he had to keep reminding himself he wasn’t actually Chief of Security yet – that title would only become operational when he and his team reached Titan. Now he was just plain Julio, and somehow he’d have to find a way to keep occupied during the next couple of weeks.

  He gazed out of the forward view-screen at the inky blackness, trying to imagine what Titan would be like. He knew the basics from the briefing he’d received on Earth and the extensive file on his wrist terminal: gravity similar to the moon but with a thick atmosphere, predominantly nitrogen; huge hydrocarbon reserves concentrated in the great northern seas; tendency for stormy weather in the summer season. But that didn’t really tell you what the place would be like.

  What he was mainly concerned about was whether he and his team would have much to do when they got there. The reason the Bureau felt they needed a security team was related to the presence of huge hydrocarbon seas. These amounted to hundreds of times more natural gas, oil and other hydrocarbons than in all the known reserves on Earth, and therefore represented one o
f the greatest natural resources in the solar system. Each one of Earth’s political blocs wanted access to this resource and had either already set up a Base near the northern shorelines or were in the process of doing so. The Bureau felt this represented a relatively high risk of conflict that warranted a security presence. Julio wasn’t so sure but was very willing to take the offered perks that came with the posting.

  He turned away from the view-screen and idly watched his men. They stood in a huddle and nursed their drinks, looking out of place and awkward. He was sure they’d soon be off now that the ship was underway and there was an excuse to leave and he was proved right within a few minutes. One-by-one, they deposited their glasses on a tray and hurried out, presumably intending to continue with a rather more relaxed drinking session in the ship’s bar.

  Once they’d gone there were very few people remaining. The scientists from Mars left soon after the security men. Then the good-looking woman scientist and her male friend slipped silently out of the room, their fingers intertwined and meaningful looks passing between them. They were watched by the tall, inebriated scientist, who was continuing to drink himself stupid. He acquired himself yet another drink then wandered across the room to where his two colleagues, the giant and the dwarf, were engaged in a quiet conversation. He pushed his way in and was soon loudly expounding on some technical principle and it wasn’t long before the other two, clearly embarrassed, were glancing at the door and looking for an opportunity to escape. Eventually, the dwarf could obviously take it no longer and looked pointedly at the time. He nudged his huge colleague who feigned surprise and, amidst many apologies and waves, they took their leave.

  Julio watched as Simon, slightly bleary-eyed, looked round the room, presumably searching for his next social victim. He decided it would not be him. Declining to make eye contact, he carefully put his glass down and left, initially intending to join his men in the bar, but subsequently deciding to return to his cabin. The guys should be able to let their hair down sometimes without the inhibiting presence of the boss. He’d content himself with a thorough review of the Titan file instead.