Earth as an Example

Chapter 1

Jesse Allen

Copyright (c) 1991

The sun was setting behind the polished chrome building tops of the planet Museum. It was a dim, reddish ball that, even at noon, only feebly lit the surface. Setting, it seemed an ominous bloody colour. Clouds, chrome, and snow all caught the red hue and reflected it to the giant window, where the Procurator of Museum stood, staring at the horizon. `How appropriate,' she thought. `I am soaked in blood.'

The voice relay at her desk interrupted her morose thoughts.

"Admiral Perry is here, sir," it announced.

"Send him in."

A section of the wall turned transparent as the Admiral entered, then blended back into the brown decor once he stepped through. He strode angrily across the room, his face set with determination. He stopped at the desk that divided the room and saluted the Procurator sharply. She returned the gesture with slightly less vigor.

"I protest the highly irregular nature of this inquiry," snapped the Admiral. "This is a purely military matter and the introduction of another civilian into the matter, as well as sending myself, Dr.~Drucker, and Captain Huston here, has delayed matters a full month. There will be a number of questions concerning classified knowledge~--- I will have to ask you and Dr.~Drucker to leave for part of the proceedings."

"Please take a seat, Admiral," said the Procurator politely. "Would you care for a drink?"

"No, thank you," replied Admiral Perry gruffly.

She sighed. "Your objections to the setup of this inquiry are noted. The Secretary-General, however, felt that this would be the most appropriate way to handle the matter. I have full authority and both myself and Dr.~Drucker will be present for the entire inquiry. We have been granted the necessary security clearances."

As she spoke, she pulled a circlet of silver off her finger and passed it to the Admiral. He picked it up and as he examined it, his eyes opened in surprise.

"My apologies, your..."

"Not needed," interrupted the Procurator as she accepted the ring back. "You are correct. Making this debriefing a full fledged inquiry and bringing everyone here has been time consuming. Were it not for the unique circumstances, this would all be inappropriate. But too much is at at stake here..."

"Doctor Drucker and Captain Huston are here, sir," announced the voice relay.

"Let them enter."

The wall disappeared again and two figures strode through. The taller of the two was a thin man with closely cropped steel gray hair that made him appear elderly. His reputation belied that, however~--- Dr. David Drucker was easily the most famous archaeologist in the Union and his work showed none of the signs of an aging mind.

Captain John Huston gave no such appearance of age. Although well into his thirties, he could have been mistaken for a full decade younger. He was solidly built though somewhat stockier. His posture gave the impression of great strength.

"Dr.~Drucker, nice to see you again," began the Procurator, "and Captain Huston. Please be seated." She indicated the two chairs in front of her desk.

"Mr.~Huston," corrected John Huston as he sat. "I've filed for a permanent release and prefer not to use the military title."

"Has your release been granted yet?" asked the Procurator.

"No, sir, not yet."

"You will be Captain Huston for the these proceedings, then." Before the Captain could utter an objection, the Procurator turned to the Admiral. In response, Admiral Perry pressed a button on a small device he had placed on the table.

"These are the proceedings of the debriefing of Captain John Huston, AJN 164," began Admiral Perry in a formal tone, "the current commander of the Federal Starship Nikaljuk, and Dr. David Drucker, the head of the archaeology team involved in the Nikaljuk's most recent mission. Presiding are Admiral Nicholas Perry, BCQ 217, and," then the Admiral glanced towards the Procurator, who responded by placing an upright finger across her lips, "the current Procurator of the planet Museum, Dr. Drucker's employer on the mission under review. These proceedings have commenced on the 14th day of the year 1503 R.A."

"Thank you, Admiral," said the Procurator. "These proceedings can now progress in an informal manner, although they are being recorded. This is not a military inquiry. The Secretary-General has asked me to participate, so this will not be a normal debriefing either. This is simply an opportunity for you both to report fully on your mission before me."

• * *

"Archaeologists?" exploded Captain Huston. "A freight ship? I thought I was working for the Navy! Have we been bought out by Republic Transport? What am I doing shuttling mudhens around when there's a war being fought?"

Admiral Perry sighed. He had expected this --- he and Captain Huston had been friends at the Herculean Naval Academy and John's enthusiasm to come to grips with the Kalganians had been famous even then. Despite that enthusiasm, or perhaps even because of it, Captain Huston had never been assigned to duty on the front. Out on the eastern dust rifts, starships grappled while John Huston had been assigned escort duties deep in the heart of the Federal Union, guarding ships as they plied the star lanes. It was vital work, for without the munitions and supplies, the war would come to a grinding halt and all too few merchants made it to their ports of call unescorted. But no one who knew John Huston could believe he would be satisfied so far from the battle zone.

Unfortunately, his luck was not about to change. This new mission would take him nowhere near the upstart Empire.

"Captain... John, I realize you'd rather be elsewhere, but look at it this way. You'll be doing what you do best, running a ship. On the front, you'd be a fourth class officer or worse. And I know what you think about the glory of war and all, but it isn't all that it's made out to be. It's vicious out there. People die, friends as well as foes. Serving duty here, you'll still be around in two years. We frontliners can't count on that."

"Fourth class officer?" snapped Captain Huston. "Bullshit! You were in the same graduating class as me and look where you are now, all from serving in the war while I've rotted on the sidelines!"

"Oh, I've done well, have I?" roared Admiral Perry back, suddenly furious. "Do you know how I got this rank? I tried to save the life of my best junior officer and her crew, breaking half a dozen flight regulations in the attempt... and they PROMOTED me for FAILING! Oh, I destroyed those cruisers when the blundered into the Maelstrom's range. They were just too intent on killing my patrol ship. If they'd looked properly at their instruments, they'd have escaped, the patrollers would be alive, and I'd be court martialed for breaking course and violating acceleration safety limits! And quite frankly, I'd rather be in the brig with my friends alive than Admiral with them dead!"

Admiral Perry stopped and when he spoke again, his voice was much calmer.

"Sorry. But believe me: The battlefield is not the place for you. Or anyone. The glory and honour of war is false. It's kill or be killed out there. The Kalganians that murdered my soldiers were simply doing their duty --- did they deserve to die for that? They had families, husbands and wives, children, friends... and their sorrow must be just as painful as the loss of my crew is to me. Think about that before you start sputtering about wanting to fight. There are times when I wonder if all sacrifices will be worth the victory...

"Besides," and now Admiral Perry was smiling, however artificially, "think what it would be like if these archaeologists find what they are looking for. It would be quite a discovery and you'd be among the very first to know. And remember, you were selected by Dr. Drucker from a list of highly competent commanders. He wants you."

Captain Huston was silent. He was still reeling from the verbal assault. Oh, he knew there was more to that incident with the Maelstrom than the news services had told, that both navies had been killers that day. But nothing had prepared him for the intensity of Admiral Perry's feelings. Perhaps there was more to frontline command that met the eye...

After a few moments of silence, Admiral Perry spoke again.

"You'll be working in the Betelgeuse sector. It's nicknamed `Beetle Juice' after a supernova remnant near the sector's center. From the right places, the remnant looks just like a giant bug. I know a few of the better viewing angles. I'll give your navigator the co-ordinates before you leave. It should only be a minor deviation from your flight plans and it's worth the visit."

"Ah," said Captain Huston, his composure regained somewhat. "So I'll be playing the part of a civil captain to the hilt. Passengers and now even sight-seeing. What larks!"

"John," replied Admiral Perry sternly, "you are a military officer and you will obey orders. But the Navy will never order you to enjoy a job. THAT is up to you."

The Admiral strode out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Three hundred years ago, Ian Nikaljuk had been a stellographer of some note. He was best known for his last mapping expedition, when he ventured beyond the great dust rift of Cygnus. There, behind the cold clouds of interstellar dust, he found a rich bounty of water/oxygen planets, circling G type primaries --- ideal planets for human colonization, the most precious commodity in the Union. Of these gems, he choose the very best and named it after his wife, Kalgania, then, together with his family, led the first colony ships there.

His choice was wise. Within a century, Kalgania dominated the trade of the entire region to such an extent that the whole sector came to be known as Kalgan, and Kalgania was its capital.

`Yes,' thought Captain Huston. `Of all the ships they could have given me, they hand me one named after the founder of our enemy...' He came to the door he was looking for and pressed the annunciator.

"Who is it?" asked the grill on the wall.

"This is Captain John Huston of the Nikaljuk."

The door snapped into nonexistence and Captain Huston walked through. He had entered a small office, occupied by a tall, thin man with short, steel gray hair. He had been sitting behind his cluttered desk, the floor around him in equal disarray, but as the Captain entered, he stood up and offered his hand.

"Welcome, Captain Huston," he said. "I'm David Drucker, the archaeology team leader. Pardon the mess --- I'm still packing. What brings you here from the docks?"

"I have a few questions," said Captain Huston, starting to shift back towards the door, "but nothing that can't wait `til later."

"Oh, that should be no problem," said Dr. Drucker. "I can spare you some time, though not much. What do you want to know?"

"Well," began Captain Huston, "why us?"

"Didn't they tell you?" asked Dr. Drucker. "Your crew came with the highest recommendations. I appreciate excellence."

"Well, thank you," said Captain Huston, nodding his head with the compliment. "But that's not what I meant. Why the Navy? Wouldn't a civil freight liner suit your needs better?"

"Ah, a complete answer would take some time," replied Dr. Drucker, settling back into his seat, his proclaimed busy-ness apparently forgotten. "Please take a chair. Just move the papers onto the floor." Captain Huston lifted a small pile of printed pages off the only other chair in the room and put them on the floor before sitting. `Printed paper?' he thought. `An anachronism, but then you might expect that from an archaeologist.'

"In short," continued Dr. Drucker, "the reason is flexibility. Civilian ships depend on a network of subsidiary services: space stations, shuttles, and the like. The military does not rely on such sundry items as not all their destinations are serviced by those middlemen. The Nikaljuk, for instance, has landed right here on Museum for loading. It can take off directly, cruise through interplanetary space, then switch over to the hyperdrive once it reaches deep space. A civil freighter of similar dimension could hold almost twice the Nikaljuk's capacity, but is not equipped with an interplanetary engine plant."

"But there are interplanetary shuttles serving every inhabited planet in the Union!" exclaimed Captain Huston.

"Yes, every INHABITED planet," replied Dr. Drucker. "But not abandoned planets."

"Abandoned planets?" asked Captain Huston. "What is there of interest in a place even colonists gave up on?"

"Planets have been ill-chosen by colonizing parties since humanity first took to space," explained Dr. Drucker. "After being abandoned, virtually all of those planets have suffered no further disturbances from humans. Colonists tend not to make the same mistake twice. Since, of all the agents that destroy archaeological evidence, humans are the most potent, the likelihood of finding interesting remains is better on those planets, save where abandonment was due to violent weather or geology. By sifting the remains, we could find some of the clues we are looking for."

"I'm afraid my briefing was limited," said Captain Huston. "What is this `First World' we'll be looking for?"

"It is current theory that there is one, or possibly two or three planets from which all humanity sprung," began Dr. Drucker. "It is based on some complex anthropological studies. Among other things, those studies show there once were three distinct classes of human skeletons. Time and intermarriage has blended most of the distinctions in modern humans, but sufficiently detailed genetic analysis can still trace contemporary skeletons to those three bone types. Some presume on that basis that there were three separate planets on which humanity evolved. Others, such as myself, find the interfertility of those three races suggestive of a single planetary origin. All humanity developed there and began to colonize soon after developing space travel. Our team is trying to find further evidence to support the single planetary origin hypothesis, and to find that planet."

"But why this mission?" asked Captain Huston. "Couldn't you simply examine the histories and find which one has records predating space travel?"

Dr. Drucker shifted in his seat. "A sensible suggestion. In fact, that is exactly what we have spent the last ten years doing. Do you have any idea how many planets claim to be the first?"

"A few dozen?" suggested Captain Huston.

"A few dozen per sector!" exclaimed Dr. Drucker. "There are thousands of planets that have histories extending from before the establishment of the Federal Union, and virtually all of those planets claim they have always been inhabited. Some claims were easy to eliminate, other were more difficult... and eventually, not a single one of them passed every test we could devise. Archaeological diggings found that, even at the most ancient sites, there was evidence of space age technology. Anything older predated human habitation."

Dr. Drucker sighed. "Our best guess now is that the planet in question is unaware of its special status."

"But how could a planet be the source of all civilization, yet think it was not?" inquired Captain Huston, finding himself suddenly intrigued. He had come to Dr. Drucker's office more to please Admiral Perry than in any genuine belief that the mission would prove interesting. He was glad now the Admiral had pressured him into getting more involved. I guess I owe him an apology, though the Captain.

"That is one of the mysteries that has made this project so complex," answered Dr. Drucker.

"Is there some special reason for choosing the Betelgeuse sector?" asked Captain Huston.

"Oh, a very special reason," replied Dr. Drucker. "We made a breakthrough a few months ago, one which made this mission feasible. Come with me and I'll show you."

Glittering in the bright lights that shone down on it lay a metallic box adorned with three long arms and a large bowl. A pair of technicians were carefully replacing a side panel when Dr. Drucker and the Captain entered the room onto the ramp that ran around the room's length, ten feet off the floor.

"This is it," said Dr. Drucker waving at the object on the floor. "A military convoy crossing the sector stumbled across it drifting in deep space. It appears to be a probe of some sort. Unmistakably a human creation --- there's a pair of human figures, male and female, on one of the external panels, along with some other etched marks that we haven't been able to decipher.

"Notice the big dish? It's parabolic, with an electromagnetic sender at its focus. Because of the time lags inherent in electromagnetic communication over astronomical distances, we're fairly confident that the probe was designed with an interplanetary mission in mind. The size of the power supply backs that conclusion up. Even with a fresh fuel sources, it could only send a very weak signal."

"So what makes this a breakthrough?" ask Captain Huston.

"Why send a probe for an interplanetary mission? It has no drive system save for some low power maneuvering jets, and there's no evidence of one ever having been attached to it. A ballistic probe in an age of powered flight between the stars? Senseless!

"Besides, the instruments are rather primitive looking as such things go. The people who built them could teach us some things about miniaturization, but the technology is simplistic.

"The real clincher, though, was radioactively dating a sample from one of the fuel cells. The probe was powered by a simple nuclear electric generator, so by assuming the fuel was reasonably pure when it was launched, we can determine its age by measuring the radioactivity of the cell now. Other tests, like measuring the interstellar dust coating, confirm the result. This probe is over ten thousand years old: The oldest man-made find ever.

"We're very lucky to have this. Something like this on a planet would have weathered beyond recognition. But deep space is a rather good preservative. There's been some scoring and organic molecules from the interstellar medium have done some damage, but otherwise, it's practically in the same condition as when its makers first tossed in into space."

Captain Huston look at the probe below him with new respect. Ten thousand years old, yet still recognizable, just drifting through space...

"If this was a ballistic probe," said Captain Huston, "then you could backtrack its course from where it was picked up."

Dr. Drucker sighed. "Indeed you could, and this mission would be very simple. Alas, the ship that picked up the probe suffered a partial power failure. All their navigation log data was lost. We know the probe could not have been traveling past light speed --- it's doesn't have the Hollings field generator necessary to defeat relativistic destruction. Nor was it traveling near light speed: if it had been, the damage from colliding with interstellar dust would have been much more extensive.

"But that is all we know. It could have been traveling at mere metres per second, or hundreds of kilometres. Over ten thousand years, that adds up to a lot of uncertainty... and the region that uncertainty spans is our search volume. Right in the heart of the Betelgeuse sector."

"Are there any inhabited planets there?" asked Captain Huston.

"Yes," replied Dr. Drucker, "Turkenstan. We've already been there. It was one of the planets that claimed to be the original and one whose claim could not be dismissed immediately. But Turkenstan was not it. It must have been one of the first colonies, since one team found remains from an ancient starship shuttle which were over nine thousand years old. But there's no trace of human habitation earlier than that find."

Captain Huston scratched his head. "Anything near this region? Perhaps the error margins were underestimated when guessing the probe's trajectory at its pickup."

Dr. Drucker smiled. "Ever thought of becoming an archaeologist? You're asking all the right questions... But to answer your question: yes. There are two inhabited planets nearby. Both have clear records of their colonization. The older, a place called Janella, is a pre-imperial planet. Its settlers arrived there about four and a half thousand years ago. They had to terraform it to make life outside enclosed cities possible, but they eventually did make the surface livable after a fashion. A very cold place most of its year, but still better than here."

`You can say that again,' thought Captain Huston. `The surface of Museum is so miserable that the population all burrowed beneath the crust. What a way to live!'

Museum had been overlooked by colonists precisely because of its inhospitable climate. Even the starship captains who regularly visited the system after the orbital refueling station had been built two hundred years ago knew it only as a zipcode in the sky. The planet didn't even have a name until the Republic Historian's Guild had applied to turn the planet into a public library specializing in the Union's history. Terraforming the planet's climate was too expensive, so the historians had contented themselves with honeycombing the crust with underground tunnels and rooms. A few building tops poked above the surface, but by and large, the bulk of Muesum's habitation was deep in the planetary crust.

"The other planet, Srosa," continued Dr. Drucker, "was subsequently settled by Janella. We'll be dropping off teams at both planets to see if there's any more elderly records to be found. But that does seem a long shot."

"And if those teams don't find anything?"

"Then we'll look for abandoned planets. Since the original home is somewhere in there, it seems reasonable that there would be planets settled early on, planets that might well have been abandoned as wider ranging surveys found better places. Of course, there's no record of any such planets, but then again, you wouldn't expect to find much after so long."

"So how will you find them? There must be a lot of stars in the search region and over 30% of all stars have planets."

"The region the probe came from has been surveyed, so we've already narrowed the field down somewhat. There are a few planets that are marginally habitable which might have been settled early on. In particular, there are two G type and three F type stars with oxygen/water planets orbiting within the acceptable orbital parameters. The Fs would be long shots --- the only populated planets with F primaries have very heavy radiation trapping zones and even so, they can be pretty grim places to live. But the very first colonists may not have been so picky... or aware of the consequences of living on a planet with such a high flux of energetic nuclear particles."

Captain Huston frowned slightly. Something was still out of place, a fact being overlooked... `Ah, yes.'

"That will find you early settlements. But that's not ultimately what you're looking for. What about this First World? If there's only one currently inhabited planet around where this probe came from and it's definitely not First World, then where's the missing planet?"

"Well, I can think of only two possibilities. First World may have been abandoned, which seems bloody unlikely. Why abandon a planet that must have been so well suited to life? It makes no sense..."

"And the other possibility?" asked Captain Huston.

"First World is still out there in the Betelgeuse sector... and the Federal Union doesn't know about it."

Captain Huston knocked on the wall paneling lightly. He had come down to the spare cargo bay where the archaeologists were housed on the doctor's request. It was the first time he had been in this part of the ship since the engineers had installed the temporary quarters. They had done a good job in the short time available, but there was no mistaking the partition walls for anything permanent. If he had knocked a little harder, the Captain was sure, the whole wall would have shook. The door to Dr. Drucker's room was nothing more than a curtain.

"Come in."

Captain Huston expected the interior of the archaeologist's room to look as temporary as its exterior, but he was surprised. This was not a room --- it was somebody's home. The hammock was neatly rolled out of the way and the walls were covered with framed trimenographs, posters, and news clippings. The most striking of these was a large trimenograph facing the door. It was a picture of a nebula, apparently floating in the wall. It had a striking sense of depth even though the image plate was flat. The cloud had twisted arcs of glowing gases stretching out into space, so realistic that Captain Huston had a momentary vision of the arms reaching out and grabbing him. Swirls of bluish oxygen mixed with the yellow-orange of hydrogen, all spread across the inky blackness in the shape of...

"Looks rather like a bug, doesn't it?" remarked Dr. Drucker. He was accustomed to the startled look the image drew from visitors. Trimenographs were nothing new, but few were quite as startling as this one. The sense of depth was so strong that it appeared there was a hole in the wall in which the plasma cloud hung. One friend had even tried touching the nebular formation, not fully comprehending the true nature of the image until his hand had struck the plate on the wall.

"The `Beetle Juice' supernova remnant?" asked the Captain.

"Yes," answered Dr. Drucker. "My daughter had a rather strong love of space travel. She made a number of trimenographs of astronomical objects to share her enthusiasm for space... and she succeeded. Not only has she captured the three dimensional sense of the remnant extraordinarily well, but the view is also taken from an unusual viewing angle which she calculated for herself. Her line of sight makes the remnant less bright overall but accents the outer regions. The higher oxygen content from this angle strengthens the blue, enhancing the appearance... But pardon me, Captain. As I said, this is one of Marguerite's greater successes and I am prone to play the part of the proud father."

"Oh, that's quite all right," said Captain Huston, breaking his eyes from the trimenograph. "Your daughter is to be complimented. It is one of the best trimenographs I've seen taken from space. One of the best I've seen at all, in fact. In a few days, we can even compare it to the real thing."

"We'll be visiting the remnant?" asked Dr. Drucker, a hint of hopefulness in his voice.

"Yes," confirmed Captain Huston. "Admiral Perry ordered me to stop there while we were in the sector." Then the Captain paused for a moment. "Actually, it wasn't so much an order as a strongly worded suggestion, but he did give me the co-ordinates for the best viewing angle. One of his junior officers apparently had computed a better perspective than the standard angle tourists see."

"Admiral Nicholas Perry?" asked Dr. Drucker.

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"You're right about comparing this," and the Doctor indicated the trimenograph with a sweep of his hand, "to the real thing. That junior officer probably was my daughter!"

"Your daughter serves under Admiral Perry? Small Universe!"

"The Admiral was a Commander when she was in his service, but yes. Margie was one of his junior lieutenants."

"Was? Has she moved on to her own command now?"

Dr. Drucker breathed in deeply.

"No. She was killed a couple of years ago on a patrol mission."

"I'm sorry," said Captain Huston, suddenly feeling very awkward. `You've really put your foot in it this time, John,' he thought. There was a long silence, then Dr. Drucker broke the quiet.

"The war has not been kind to me. But that is in the past now. And though I would much rather have my daughter alive, it has made all this possible."

"Oh?" said Captain Huston, failing to see the connection and befuddled by the sudden awkwardness of his position.

"Yes. Admiral Perry and Margie were good friends and he blamed himself for her death. Not justly, I should add: There was nothing anyone have done to save her and she realized the risks when she signed up. However, he has not forgiven himself for his supposed failure yet and thus feels he owes me a debt as her father. He heard of my interest in this mission and pulled a few strings on my behalf."

Captain Huston remembered the Admiral's explosion, simultaneously noticing a medallion hung above Dr. Drucker's desk. The certificate read "For bravery in the service of the Federal Union, Lieutenant Marguerite Drucker is awarded the Silver Swords," beneath which was the seal of the Secretary-General. `Silver Swords,' thought Captain Huston. `The same medal Commander Perry was given for the incident with the Maelstrom...' Then all the pieces fell into place.

`What do I say now? "Your daughter served her nation well?" The Silver Swords already says that better than I ever could. "I'm sorry?" I've already said that. Damn it! War is supposed to be simple. There's an enemy to be defeated. Not without cost, but everyone dies eventually and what better way to go than in the service of the people? But how do I say that to the face of the father of a fallen soldier?'

`And if I can't say it to his face, is it really true?' Like many wartime military college graduates, he had not really ever been forced to consider the human side of war. `What do I do now? Change the subject?'

Dr. Drucker solved the Captain's dilemma for him.

"I've had the trimenograph for almost ten years now, but I've never seen the real thing. That will be something to look forward to. I wonder if it will look any different?"

"Not much," answered the Captain with some awkwardness. "In ten years, the remnant will have expanded several million kilometres and radiated away more energy than an entire planet consumes in the same time. But compared to its total size and power, those changes are miniscule. They would take a trained eye or professional equipment to notice.

"I've never been out this way before, but I've heard about the nebula. Judging by your trimen, it will be every bit as spectacular a sight as I've heard.

"But I presume you didn't call for me to discuss supernovae," continued Captain Huston steering the conversation further from its morose turn. "What's up?"

"Have you ever played Knights & Castles, Captain?"

"Yes, it was all the rage when I was in school. I managed to get reasonably good, though I've not had much time for it since. Do I detect a challenge?"

"You catch on fast," said Dr. Drucker with pleasure, both from the change in conversation and his own scheming. He did not need to be told that Captain Huston played the game. Admiral Perry had mentioned Huston's nickname `The Dark Master' which he had earned ten years ago for his prowess at the game. Ever since Dr. Drucker had heard, he had been looking forward to this challenge. He had tried to play against others on Museum, but few showed much interest and only the Procurator had proven a worthy opponent... and she was too busy to play frequently.

"But," continued Dr. Drucker, "I'm not exactly challenging you to a game of Knights & Castles. Our archaeology team on Turkenstan discovered a manual to a similar game that the original colonists played. I've not had a chance to really study it carefully yet, but it's more complex than Knights & Castles, demanding more thought and patience to play properly. Janella spaceport is many days away, however, and I thought a military strategist such as yourself might be interested. A battlefield for you, of sorts. Admiral Perry hinted that you were rather the fighting type and our mission otherwise is most peaceful. Interested?"

"With an introduction like that," replied Captain Huston almost jocularly, "how can I refuse? Kind of living history. How does it work?"

"As I said, it's similar to Knights & Castles, but it's played on a two dimensional grid instead of a cube. The pieces move in more complex fashions. The Turkenstan colonists called it `Chess'..."

The F.S. Nikaljuk hung a mere parsec from the supernova remnant. As Captain Huston had predicted, it looked just like the trimenograph, though it was even more impressive, filling a full quarter of the sky. Even from this close, the nebula's expansion rate of over a thousand kilometres per second was invisible. Seven hundred years ago, this had been a red giant star. The hydrogen in its core had all long since been fused to helium, and thence to carbon, then oxygen, and so on to iron. There, everything stopped. Beyond iron, fusion consumed more energy than it produced and so the star stopped burning. No longer supported by the tremendous radiation pressure from fusion at its core, the outer layers of the star collapsed inward, releasing their gravitational energy as they fell.

The resultant explosion defied imagination. The name `supernova' hardly gave a hint of the incredible blast of energy that was released in the mighty detonation of truly astronomical proportions. As the stellar surface fell in, the gases heated and fused. The star's iron core was crushed to the density of an atomic nucleus while the outer layers were flung back out into space with such violence that even now, they outstripped the fastest interplanetary yachts. And the interstellar hyperdrive, the only man-made engine that could rival that fantastic speed, would not operate in the plasma of the explosion. The Nikaljuk was as close as any ship could safely get.

The resemblance to a terrestrial insect was remarkable. There were legs made of glowing filaments of excited gases. Captain Huston would not have been surprised had the antennae-like loops of hydrogen started wavering around, exploring, poking. What if it took to life and started crawling across the inky void, a monstrous interstellar bug? Captain Huston suddenly chuckled.

"Something humorous?" asked Dr. Drucker dryly from the Captain's side, looking out the window from the observation deck.

"I was just imagining what it would take to kill a bug of this size. An enormous foot, perhaps?"

The Doctor made no response.

"Okay," admitted the Captain, "so it's a little strange. Who said I didn't have a twisted mind?"

The Doctor smiled slightly, but maintained his silence.

"You said there were only two explanations for the absences of any records of the original planet," said Captain Huston, trying to break the silence of his companion. "Have you considered this possibility?" and Captain Huston waved his hand at the sight out the window.

"Sorry?" said Dr. Drucker, startled from his silence. "I don't follow you."

"Well," said Captain Huston. "We are well within the Betelgeuse sector. Consider for a moment that First World orbited this star. During the supernova explosion, the planet would have been vapourized completely. Of course, the inhabitants would have known about the impending explosion and would have been long gone. Long enough that records of their exodus were not front page news. No more planet, hence no planet with records extending before star travel, and also no records of having existed prior to the Federal Union."

Dr. Drucker frowned for a moment. "You know, I never thought of that. But the nebula is well outside our search volume. The probe could not have come from here and we are all agreed that the probe came from First World."

"We are deep within the Betelgeuse sector," said Captain Huston, "and not that far from the nearest edge of the search volume. Perhaps the error margins on the probe's direction and speed were underestimated?"

"Ha!" snorted Dr. Drucker. "If anything, they have been overestimated. We were quite generous in applying uncertainties. And I question calling ten parsecs `not that far.' It would take a light beam over thirty two years to get from here to the nearest edge of the search region."

"A systematic error? Perhaps an undiscovered black hole that the probe passed close by?"

"I said the error margins were generous!" replied Dr. Drucker. "It was precisely because of such factors that they are so large! If you can come up with something plausible to throw our calculations that much off, I'd like to hear about it." Then his eyes narrowed. "You seem unusually keen on this idea. What are you up to?"

"You caught on fast," said Captain Huston, smiling as he aped the archaeologist's earlier words. "Let's just say there's a sum of money involved."

Then Dr. Drucker suddenly grinned. "Of course! How stupid of me. Habitable planets only have a certain narrow range of stellar type primaries. Supernova progenitors are not among those. They are more massive stars, red giants and the like. Stars that eventually go bang like this," and Dr. Drucker indicated the remnant, "are known for hundreds of thousands of years of distinctly anti-social stellar activity. Violent flares, mass loss, intense microwave laser emission from surrounding gas and dust, you name it. You wouldn't want to get near one of these stars even ten thousand years before the bang.

"A sum of money, you say? Have you been making bets on me?"

"Yes," said the Captain, "and I just won. My navigator suggested the supernova destroyed the planet we're searching for. I suspect Georgia was just teasing me, seeing if I knew why it wasn't a possibility. After failing to trip me up, she put a hundred rials on you not seeing it."

"Does she do this sort of thing regularly?" asked the somewhat astonished archaeologist.

"Oh, quite regularly," replied the Captain, "as does the rest of the crew. This is a small ship and that makes for a lot of frustrated energy with no space to vent it. I can either have friendly competitions or much more serious bickering. As long as the games don't interfere with the bridge, I tolerate it --- sometimes, even encourage it.

"Besides, it gives me an intellectual battlefield of sorts. The crew sets me up with some sort of idea with a plausible appearance yet with a built-in flaw... like the properties of a supernova progenitor. I try to find the flaw. For my part, I occasionally set them some task that's supposed to be impossible and see if they can find what I've pulled on them... or if they can fool me into believing it's possible anyway.

"Right now, one of the junior engineers is working on constructing a stealth device for the Nikaljuk. Some time soon, he's going to realize that a conventional device takes about twenty times the capacity of our onboard power, not to mention the sheer physical size of the thing. I wouldn't be surprised if he knew that before I even set the task. So he's going to come up with something a little nonconventional. I suspect it will fake a cloaking device from the bridge's perspective, but will have no actual effect on another ship's scanners. Thus he turns it on its head for me to work out what he's really done.

"It's wonderful when you really think about it. I hardly have to work to keep them busy and I get constant feedback on my skills. If someone catches me unawares, then I learn something new. And I have to teach myself a lot just to make sure that doesn't happen. Like stellar evolution."

"Ugh!" said Dr. Drucker. "There's more to commanding a ship than I would ever have guessed. I'm glad I'm not doing it, stuck on this tiny can for months on end."

"Tiny?" asked Captain Huston. "I admit this is no giant lumbering tanker, but tiny does seem to overstate it a little. We've got two dozen on board --- there are pleasure yachts that seem crammed with just one."

"Tiny in comparison," replied Dr. Drucker, warming to his line of attack. "I'm used to thinking of ships carrying tens of thousands rather than the smattering aboard the Nikaljuk."

"Tens of thousands!" said Captain Huston. "I think you mean tens of thousands cubic displacement, not tens of thousands of people. Even the largest deep space carrier, the Haiphong, holds fifteen hundred and it's the biggest starship ever!"

"The Haiphong is NOT the largest starship ever built," answered Dr. Drucker happily. "The shuttle we found at Turkenstan clearly predates translight travel. Therefore, the first colonists had to practically make an entire world to live in while they traveled between the stars. Farming, industry, government, the lot. Their journeys took hundreds of years. The original flight crew would have had grandchildren by the time they reached their destination. The smallest number of people capable of making such a fully self-sufficient world is fifteen thousand. And that's just a minimum. Ships ten, twenty, maybe even fifty times the Haiphong's capacity plied the star lanes for at least a thousand years. Compared to one of those ships, the Nikaljuk is nothing more than a gnat.

"Perhaps you should follow your lesson in stellar evolution with a history of space travel," and with that, the archaeologist left.

Captain Huston stood in apparent silence, looking at the supernova remnant out the window. But someone standing close might have noticed a slight chuckling.

`So Chess is not the only game this man will play with me,' he thought to himself.

Jesse Allen is an overworked, underloved graduate student at the University of Iowa. In his copious free time, he pretends to teach, do research, keep in touch with the few friends he has left, write science fiction, weave, and have a social life. He is currently working on a thesis on Radio Emission From X-ray Binary Stars (Read as "How to get to Australia at the U.I.'s expense" -- a preliminary feasibility study made it to New Mexico.) He can be reached at jsa@vesta.physics.uiowa.edu during those rare times Vesta actually is working.

`Earth as an Example' will be continued next issue.