Abdul opened the allcom so he could speak to his passengers. They were gathered in the common room, where Carroll was going on about predators in saltwater marshes. “Everybody buckle in,” he said. “We have a minor engine difficulty, and we’re going to jump back into normal space until we can get it resolved.”
That got their attention. “How big a problem?” one of them asked.
“Not serious. Strictly nuisance value.” He didn’t really know that was true. There was, for example, an outside chance the engines could explode. And there was a somewhat better possibility that the jump would fail. That power levels were not sufficient to move the ship between dimensions. “We should be fine,” he added, knowing before he’d finished the remark that it was the wrong thing to say.
“Can you fix it?” asked the youngest of his passengers, Mike Dougherty, who was just out of Bernadine. Nice kid. Of the four, Abdul suspected he was the one who’d really be missed if things went wrong.
“No. It has to go back to the shop, Mike.” He heard them moving to the couches, heard the harnesses taking hold. “Sorry about the short notice. These things are automatic, so I’ve no control over them. But we’ll be out the other side in a couple of minutes. Just sit tight.” He activated his own harness. Bill’s image disappeared. “Bill.”
“Yes?”
“Are we by any chance not where we think we are?”
“It would seem to be the only explanation for the response from ops. We’ve apparently traveled a much shorter distance than we should have.”
“Damn. What the hell’s happening?”
“I suspect we haven’t left the solar system.”
Okay. Whatever. Under the circumstances, that might be a good thing. But the priority at the moment was to make a safe exit. He went through the check-off list with Bill, the readings on both sets of engines, fuel levels, pile temperature, probable entry vector, external mass indicator. If necessary, he could abort the jump. But everything was within the guidelines.
“One minute,” Abdul told his passengers. “Everybody belted in? Please let me hear it.” He did not have the warning lamps of the tour ships.
One by one, they replied. All set. But their voices betrayed a degree of nervousness. “How far out are we?” asked Carroll.
“We should be a bit over ninety light-years.” Except that the response from ops had come back too quickly.
“Will they be able to find us?” asked Mike.
“Sure,” he said. No reason why not. Abdul left the channel open. Heard Carroll comment that jump engines could be dangerous. “My uncle was on a flight once — ”
“Ten seconds,” said Abdul. He thought his voice sounded relaxed. Professional. Utterly confident.
There is no safer method of transport than superluminal. Since the passage of the Kern-Warburton Act, almost thirty years ago, there has not been a single documented case of catastrophic loss due to malfunction.
— The Engineering Annual, XXVII
chapter 3
…So we have progressed to the point where we can move politicians around faster than light. I’m not sure I see the advantage.
— Gregory MacAllister, Notes from Babylon
They woke Priscilla Hutchins before dawn with word that the Heffernan was missing. Lost. We don’t know where it is.
“How do you mean lost? It’s in hyperflight.”
“Something went wrong. They jumped out.”
She was talking to the watch officer at the Academy. “Who’s on duty at Union?”
“I got the news from Peter.” That would be Peter Arnold, the watch supervisor.
“Patch me through.” Hutch was already on her way down to her living room, pulling on a stylish satin robe that she kept specifically for these occasions.
“Hello, Hutch,” Peter said, as she descended the stairs. “We have no idea where they are.”
“That’s Abdul’s mission, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What happened?”
“We got a message from him about fifteen minutes ago. He said there was an engine problem. They were going to exit back into normal space.”
“And you haven’t heard from him since?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Okay. Get me an estimate of his probable location, and let’s start looking to see who else is in the area.”
“Already working on it, Hutch.”
She descended into her living room and switched to visual. Peter was a big, easygoing guy who had been an interior lineman during his college days. But at the moment he looked worried. “Where are they now? How far out?”
“About ninety light-years.”
“Okay. I take it there’s been no follow-up transmission?”
“No, ma’am, that’s why I’m worried.” His forehead was creased. “The engines may have exploded. During the jump. Otherwise, we should have heard from him by now.”
“He may not have been able to get a message off right away. He has passengers to worry about. There’s also a possibility the hypercomm failed.”
“At the same time as the engines? I doubt it.”
“The Heffernan’s a Colby class, Peter. The systems are interrelated. They could have gone down together. If so, they’re adrift out there somewhere. Waiting for help to arrive.”
“My God. If that’s the case, it’s not going to be easy to find them.”
“You know precisely when communication stopped. If they made the jump successfully, that will tell you approximately where they are. More or less.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Scramble anything you can find. And, Peter — ”
“Yes, Hutch?”
“Try not to let it get out. Keep me informed and let me know if you need anything.”
SHE ALERTED MICHAEL Asquith, the Academy’s commissioner. He listened patiently, commented that these things never seem to happen during business hours, and asked how serious she thought it was.
“They’re probably okay,” she said. “The ship’s old, but the drive system is well designed. It’s possible they got stranded in hyperspace, and it’s possible the engines could have exploded. But either of those eventualities is unlikely. They’re almost certainly adrift somewhere. But without communications.”
“They have radio?”
“Probably.”
“But the search area’s too big for radio?”
“It won’t be easy if that’s all they have.”
“Okay,” he said. “Stay on top of it. And keep me informed.” He signed off. At the moment, there was nothing more to do, so she went back to bed. But she didn’t sleep.
She gave up eventually and headed for the shower. She was covered with soap when Peter called back. They’d worked out the search area. It was big, but that was inevitable because of the vagaries associated with hyperflight, and the fact they didn’t have the precise moment when the Heffernan made its jump. “But we caught a break,” said Peter. “The Wildside is in the immediate area. They can be on the scene early Tuesday morning. We couldn’t have planned it better.
“The al-Jahani is also in the neighborhood, so I’ve diverted them as well.” The al-Jahani was an Academy ship, on its way back from Quraqua. It had passengers on board, but there’d be room for the Heffernan people if a pickup was necessary. As seemed likely.
She updated Asquith. Got him out of bed to do it. He listened, frowned, nodded, shook his head. “Let’s keep the lid on this,” he said, “until we know what’s happening.”
“I’ve cautioned our people, Michael. But we’re not going to be able to sit on it long. The story’s too big.”
“Do what you can.”
“You might want to think about holding a press conference later this morning. Tell the media what we know. Control things a bit. It’s just a matter of time before it gets out.”