Midshipman Henry Gallant in Space Page 20

  * * *

  Gallant had just fallen asleep when he heard Red’s muffled yelping, “Hey, stop poking me! What do you want?”

  “Mr. Gallant? Mr. Gallant?” a whispered voice queried.

  “No. He’s in the upper,” growled Red, as he rolled over to return to sleep.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. Huh ..., Mr. Gallant?” said the intruder redirecting his attention to the top bunk. “It’s Chief Howard, sir. I need you to get up right away. I need you in the communication shack. An emergency data feed from a space probe is arriving. Do you hear me? Mr. Gallant...?”

  “Lights,” said Gallant. They came on, just as he sprang from his bunk. He had one leg into his trousers and one arm into his shirt, even while he was stepping into a shoe.

  “Can I come too?” asked Red, throwing off his blanket.

  Howard shrugged, deferring to Gallant.

  Gallant said, “Get dressed.” But he didn’t wait. He followed Howard at full speed through the common room on the way to CIC.

  Gallant was surprised at how fast Red moved his bulky frame when he arrived only a spilt second behind.

  Howard said, “Haggman, explain the nature of the data dump to Mr. Gallant.”

  “Yes, Chief,” said Haggman. “Sir, we are receiving a directional burst transmission from Deep Space Probe 161. That probe has been on a reconnaissance mission near Saturn for the past four months. It began transmitting an unscheduled data dump just seven minutes ago. The usual dump is on the first of the month. That optimizes the trade-off between stealth and data collection.” Haggman hesitated, as if he were uncertain about how much detail to reveal.

  The Deep Space Probe (DSP) was a tiny unmanned missile that passively collected data on clandestine missions. It reported its findings through directional burst transmissions. There were a number of probes exploring the outer planets specifically to scout the aliens.

  Haggman said, “We only get unscheduled dumps if the probe’s AI system determines it has an uncontrollable equipment failure, or if the probe has been detected. In either case, the AI will transmit a complete data dump and then self-destruct.”

  Gallant tapped his comm pin and said, “Captain.”

  He only had to wait a few seconds. “Captain, here,” came a groggy reply.

  “Captain, we have an unscheduled data dump from a probe conducting recon on Saturn.”

  “Okay. I’m coming.”

  Gallant stepped away from the compartment’s entrance and tugged at Red’s loose shirt. He only just succeeded in removing the large obstacle when Caine burst into the compartment.

  “Go ahead Haggman, report on the data,” said Gallant.

  “Yes, sir. The initial information was a repeat of last month’s data. But in the last couple of minutes, we began getting updated images and statistics.” Haggman squirmed in his seat, not accustomed to being the center of attention of his commanding officer.

  Chief Howard spoke up, “Captain, Midshipman Mitchel is on duty in CIC Analysis. She can compare the new data with our last evaluated situation report.”

  Caine nodded.

  “I’ll get her,” said Gallant, stepping out and waved to Kelsey.

  Kelsey strolled confidently forward. She had been monitoring the flurry of activity in the communication’s shack and was ready to act. She bound in and plugged a memory clip into the console.

  “Captain, I’ve grabbed the data analysis we’ve been working on. You got a briefing on most of it just two days ago,” said Kelsey, working furiously to integrate her analyzed data against the new information.

  Caine ran a hand through his close-cropped hair impatiently. His other hand smoothed his rumbled uniform. It was obvious he had been sleeping in it. Gallant wondered if the alien activities were placing an additional strain on the captain.

  “You can see here,” she said, pointing to a section of a virtual screen display before them. “We broke down the information numbers according to the satellites of Saturn, Neptune, Uranus, and Pluto. It includes composite estimates of alien bases and ships.”

  “You mean guesses, don’t you, Midshipman?” asked Caine with a resigned smile.

  “Well, sir, I’ve often heard you say, that an expert’s educated guess can be nearly as good as fact.”

  Caine blinked, but didn’t respond.

  Kelsey tried to disguise a disappointed look, “Should I call Lieutenant Mather, sir?”

  “You can fill in your department head later, Midshipman Mitchel. Right now, I want the expert opinion of my CIC analyst,” said Caine.

  Kelsey, her confidence restored, said, “The estimates I gave you two days ago, were for the Titans' industry and population infrastructure, as well as some preliminary assumptions about military strength. This display shows the number of energy emission sites, indicating communities, industrial, and mining operations, in hundreds of locations. Our population estimates range from one to ten million for just Saturn’s satellites. We have a few crude estimates for Uranus, but we have been unsuccessful in getting a probe to Neptune or Pluto. I think they must have some kind of extensive sensor array near those locations that detect the probes, causing them to self-destruct.”

  “Yes, I see. Now show me the overlay of the updated raw data.”

  She adjusted the virtual screen to overlay the information. “Our population estimates don’t support a long term civilization on Saturn, unless there are billions more underground. But they would need a huge underground industry, as well. My guess would be they have inhabited Saturn’s moons for less than a century. The Titans' home of origin must be further out. These updated images do not add very much and the statistics collected on ship traffic in the area are in line with our past information.” She stopped momentarily as she realized, “Mmm ..., the transmission terminated abruptly. We are missing the final output. There doesn’t appear to be much new here captain.”

  Caine said, “Things may not be what they appear."

  “If the aliens would only communicate in some way,” said Kelsey.

  Caine said, “The president has broadcasted messages to the Titans requesting we exchange representatives, but we’ve had no response from them, or from any of the many encounters with their scout ships.”

  Gallant thought, It seems as if the mere act of communicating will disadvantage them in some way. But he quickly dismissed the speculation from his mind as fruitless.

  Caine ordered, “If we don’t get accurate intelligence, we will face dangerous surprises before long. Mr. Gallant, prepare to launch another probe toward Saturn. Midshipman Mitchel help him set the parameters. ”

  “Yes, sir. I would, also like to try another probe to Neptune. If we strip it down to bare bones, we might have some success getting through whatever sensor array they’ve deployed. Though, that will mean a very slow voyage,” suggested Kelsey.

  “All right, coordinate that with Mr. Gallant, as well. I hope we have the time. In any case, I think it’s time we came up with a few surprises of our own,” said Caine with a cagey look on his face.