Rocheworld, p.1
Rocheworld, page 1
ROCHEWORLD
Dr. Robert L. Forward
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 1990 by Robert L. Forward
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.
A Baen Books Original
Baen Publishing Enterprises
P.O. Box 1403
Riverdale, NY 10471
www.baen.com
ISBN: 0-671-69869-9
Cover art by David Mattingly
First printing, April 1990
Distributed by Simon & Schuster
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
For Eve
Who thought it would be fun to ride on a flouwen.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thanks to:
Edouard Albert Roche (1820-1883)
—who showed that the world isn't always round,
Charles Sheffield
—who also thought this system was fun,
Paul L. Blass, Carl Richard Feynman, David K. Lynch, Patrick L. McGuire, Daryl Mallett, Hans P. Moravec, A. Jay Palmer, Zane D. Parzen, Jef Poskanzer, Daniel G. Shapiro, Jacqueline Stafsudd, and Mark Zimmerman, who helped me in several technical areas. My love and special thanks to Martha for her encouragement and literary assistance.
The "Christmas Bush" motile was jointly conceived by Hans P. Moravec and Robert L. Forward, and drawn by Jef Poskanzer using a CAD system.
All final art was expertly prepared by Sam Takata and the rest of the group at Multi-Graphics.
CAVEATS
This book is based on the original 150,000 word manuscript I wrote in 1981. A condensed version of 60,000 words was serialized under the title "Rocheworld" in Analog Science Fiction/Science Fact in 1982. A longer version of about 100,000 words was published in hardcover by Timescape under the title "The Flight of the Dragonfly" in 1984. A slightly longer version of about 110,000 words was published in paperback by Baen Books under the title "The Flight of the Dragonfly" in 1985. This version of 155,000 words prepared in 1989 combines the best features of all the prior versions—I hope you enjoy it.
For those readers who care, Robert L. Forward, who writes hard science fiction novels, is not to be confused with his son, Robert D. Forward, who writes hard-hitting detective novels, animation scripts for television, and live action scripts for motion pictures.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dr. Robert L. Forward writes science fiction novels and short stories, and science fact books and magazine articles. He is also a consulting scientist specializing in exotic physical phenomena and advanced space propulsion. Dr. Forward obtained his Ph.D. in Gravitational Physics from the University of Maryland. For his thesis he constructed and operated the world's first bar antenna for the detection of gravitational radiation. The antenna is now on display in the Smithsonian museum.
For 31 years, from 1956 until 1987, when he left in order to spend more time writing, Dr. Forward worked at the Hughes Aircraft Company Research Laboratories in Malibu, California in positions of increasing responsibility, culminating with the position of Senior Scientist on the staff to the Director of the Laboratories. During that time he constructed and operated the world's first laser interferometer gravitational radiation detector, invented the rotating gravitational mass sensor, published over 65 technical publications, and was awarded 18 patents.
In addition to his professional work, Dr. Forward has written over 70 popular science articles for publications such as the Encyclopaedia Britannica Yearbook, Omni, New Scientist, Science Digest, Science 80, Analog, and Galaxy. His most recent science fact books are FUTURE MAGIC and MIRROR MATTER: PIONEERING ANTIMATTER PHYSICS (with Joel Davis). His science fiction novels are DRAGON'S EGG and its sequel STARQUAKE, MARTIAN RAINBOW, and ROCHEWORLD (formerly THE FLIGHT OF THE DRAGONFLY). The novels are of the "hard" science fiction category, where the science is as accurate as possible.
Dr. Forward is a Fellow of the British Interplanetary Society and Editor of the Interstellar Studies issues of its Journal, Associate Fellow of the American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics, Senior Member of the American Astronautical Society, and a member of the American Physical Society, Sigma Xi, Sigma Pi Sigma, National Space Society, and the Science Fiction Writers of America.
CHAPTER 1 - BEGINNING
The torn shred of aluminum lightsail rippled lightly down through the thin atmosphere and settled onto the calm ocean. The robot probe the sail had once carried continued on its way back into the interstellar blackness, its flyby study of the Barnard planetary system completed. The messages of its discoveries would reach Earth six years later. The microthin film of aluminum sail material was no match for the ammonia-water ocean covering this egg of a planet. It dissolved into a bitter taste of aluminum hydroxide.
Clear«»White«»Whistle was warming on top of the ocean in the red glare from Hot. Hot suddenly became less. The darkness was not like that from a storm shadow, but much sharper. It was almost as if Sky¤Rock had suddenly moved in front of Hot. The darkness came closer, then there was a sharp thin taste of bitterness in the ocean.
Clear«»White«»Whistle dove under the ocean to escape the bitterness, then came to the surface. The taste was still there. Another dive—it was there too. A sounding dive a long distance away, it was still there, but the taste was weaker and the sheet of darkness was being eaten by the ocean. Hot peered through the holes.
For a long time Clear«»White«»Whistle tasted the bitterness and thought about the strange thing that came from nothing but was something. Thoughts came to it about exploring the nothing above, but that was impossible...
«But only carefully contrived mathematical propositions are truly impossible,» mused Clear«»White«»Whistle. «After all, the bitter darkness came from nothing, and I can look into nothing, although poorly. I know from looking that Hot and Warm are sources of light and heat, but though I have tried hard, I cannot see them. If only my looking portions could be focused like my seeing portions...»
A thought came to the alien, and the large amorphous body of white jelly started to condense. Clear«»White«»Whistle squeezed the water out of its body, turned into a dense white rock, and sank to the bottom of the ocean. The concentrated whiteness of the fluids that constituted its "brain" now thought at a higher rate.
Equations for a focusing detector based on time differences went through a sophisticated mathematical transformation into the equations for a focusing detector using distance differences. This detector would "look" using light instead of "seeing" using sound. The mathematical solution now obvious, Clear«»White«»Whistle, the toolless engineer, dissolved and swam up again to the surface as an undulating white cloud.
The thinking had taken a long time. Hot was gone. It had moved behind Sky¤Rock, a large object that hovered motionless in the sky above this region of the ocean. Sky¤Rock was dark, and no longer gave off its rocklike, reddish-gray light. The sky was not completely dark, however, for Warm had risen and was now a weak flare overhead.
Using the mathematical equations as a guide, Clear«»White«»Whistle formed a portion of its body into a sphere and concentrated. The white thought substance in the sphere flowed out into the rest of its body to leave the sphere a clear gel. Further concentration, and water dripped from the surface of the sphere until it was a dense clear ball. Through the now crystalline sphere streamed the rays of light from the heavens to come to a crude focus in the opposite side of the sphere. The white flesh next to the clear sphere looked at the tiny spots of light focused on its surface. The light patterns showed Warm as a small disk of mottled red. Around Warm were smaller bright lights with sharp cusps and fuzzy edges.
A slight adjustment of the gelatine sphere into a crude lens and the distorted spots turned into smaller disks. As the lens focused on the moons of the giant red planet, Gargantua, the blackness of the night sky all around the planet blossomed with hundreds of tiny pinpoints of light.
Clear«»White«»Whistle stared with its newly invented "eye" at the multicolored stars in the sky and wondered.
CHAPTER 2 - PICKING
Boredom is a Space Marine's worst enemy, but these Marines were not bored.
"Close in! You squinty-eyed offspring of a BASIC program. So what if you've lost your outside video! You've still got radar and ground plots! Close in!"
The words came from deep inside a short, chunky, round-faced woman with dark-black skin, a close-cropped head of curly black hair, and a crisp Marine Officer's uniform seemingly tattooed on her muscular body.
General Virginia Jones punched her supervisory keyboard as her parade-ground voice echoed off the naked beams and taut pressurized walls of the crowded cubicle. Crammed into the compact control room of a Space Marine Lightsail Interceptor, the programmers were short-circuiting the software in the ship's computer to optimize an "unwilling capture" trajectory between their low acceleration twenty-five kilometer-diameter sailcraft and the radar image of a lumbering cargo hauler. The huge heavy-lift vehicle was rising slowly from its launch pad deep in Soviet Russia on its way to resupply one of the Soviet bases in geosynchronous orbit.
"Boarding party!" General Jones roared to the deck below. "You've got ten minutes to do the fifteen-minute suiting drill! Move it!"
There was a bustle as hammocks were stowed to give a little more room in the tiny communal barracks. Suits were lifted from lockers and don
Like the PT boats in World War II almost a century ago, the Interceptors had to be fast. With only the light pressure from the Sun to push them, that meant keeping weight down. It was battle rations every meal when the Space Marines were on Interceptor duty.
General Jones carefully watched the captain of the Interceptor as he swung his ungainly craft smoothly around. Captain Anthony Roma was short and handsome, with dark flashing eyes and a youthful wave of hair over his forehead that had Jinjur's mind wandering slightly. Captain Roma was the best lightsail pilot in space (with the possible exception of Jinjur herself).
The lightsail scooped, dumping its cross-orbit excess speed in the upper atmosphere by using its huge expanse of sail like a sea anchor. It tilted to maximize the solar photon pressure and rose again in a pursuit trajectory of the bogey. Ten minutes later General Jones called a halt to the hunt of the phantom fox.
"Freeze program," she said, then turned and tapped a code word into her command console. The computer memory of the practice pursuit was locked until she released it. The primary purpose of this exercise had been to test the reconfiguration skills of the human element of her computer-operated spaceship—the programmers. By reconfiguring the software in the computer to take into account its loss of components and capabilities, the programmers could hopefully tune the program to obtain its optimum response time. She wished the Interceptors could have the latest in self-reprogramming computers, or at least the touch-screen input terminals, but that was many fiscal-budget cycles away.
The study of the programmer responses could take place later. General Jones lifted herself up in the weak acceleration, coiled her short, powerful legs under her compact body, hooked the toes of her corridor boots under the command console, and launched herself toward the "sortie" port. There was more to a Space Marine Interceptor than sail, computer, and programmers, and she was the preventive maintenance technician for that fourth component.
The Space Marines were still frozen at attention in the sortie port, their 'stiction boots firmly attached to the deck. Their commander swam in free-fall among them, the lieutenant of the boarding party close behind her.
She approached the first Marine, punched a code into his chest-pack and read the result.
"Fine, Pete," she said. "Shuck the suit and take a break." She moved to the next one.
"Hi, Amalita." She punched the Marine's chest-pack and read out the performance index.
"Good timing!" she said. Her eyes grinned up at the proud Marine. "Seven minutes, thirteen seconds, and no suit flags! I'm proud of you!"
She moved on to the next. The readout had no flags, but her instincts knew something was wrong. She stared at the face of the Marine through the visor. His bewildered eyes indicated something unknown was bothering him. She grabbed him by both arms, planted herself on the deck, lifted him bodily, and turned him around. He felt oddly out of balance. She examined the tell-tales on his support pack. They were fine—both tanks full of air. She stopped and raised a sharp pale-brown knuckle and gave the rounded ends of the two air tanks a rap. One tinked like a fiber-wound titanium balloon stretched to its utmost. The other tonked.
In her rage, she smashed the offending tell-tale with her fist and jerked the poor Marine around until he was facing her. Tears welled from her dark brown eyes.
"Everlasting elephants, Mike!! If it doesn't feel right, don't put it on!!! Even if the blazzflaggin' thing says it's OK! I want you alive!!"
She jammed the stricken Marine back down to the floor where his 'stiction boots took hold again. Then pushing against him, she rose up and grabbed a handhold in the ceiling of the crowded port.
"I want you ALL alive!" she roared, looking around at the ranks of cowed killers.
"The next time one of you blue-nosed monkeys puts on a bad suit, I'll personally kick you from here to PLUTO!"
She turned, and sucking the back of her hand, swam out the lock, leaving a thoughtful lieutenant to finish the inspection. General Jones had not yet mentioned his responsibilities in this infraction, but he expected to hear about it as soon as they were where the troops couldn't overhear. He wasn't looking forward to it, for General "Jinjur" had not gotten her nickname by being lenient with officers that allowed her troops to get into danger.
General Jones was half-way through the analysis of the interception exercise when a message came through from the Space Marine Orbital Base. The Russians had announced a launch to resupply one of their geosynchronous-orbit manned space stations. The Interceptor that Jinjur was inspecting was in the best position, and was assigned the job of monitoring the launch. She carefully watched the Captain of the Interceptor as he swung his ungainly craft smoothly around. The sunlight hit the sail, the acceleration built up to a few percent of Earth's gravity, and the floating objects in the room drifted downward. The Captain called on one of the orbiting space forts above him for more power, and there was a blinding flash in the video monitor as a powerful laser beam struck the sail with a light beam five times brighter than the Sun. The acceleration rose to one-tenth gee and they skimmed rapidly above the Earth's atmosphere, gaining speed by the minute.
Soon the sailcraft's trackers had the Russian booster on their screens. Jinjur watched as the massive payload pushed its way slowly up out of the sea of air, rising vertically to over two thousand kilometers. As it reached the peak of its trajectory, the tiny image began to grow wings. The wings became larger and larger until they dwarfed the twenty-five kilometer diameter sail of the Interceptor. Jinjur admired the deployment speed of the lightsail. The pilot must be Ledenov or Petrov with a new deployment program.
The huge sailship caught the Sun's rays and started its climbing spiral outward to the distant space station thirty-six thousand kilometers overhead. Unlike the Interceptor, which was built for speed, this was a tug. It would take almost a month to haul its heavy load into the heavens.
The Interceptor Captain glanced at Jinjur and she nodded approval. He reached for a microphone and made a call to the U.N. Space Peacekeeping Authority. UNSPA had no forces. They used those of the spacefaring nations instead. The United States had put Jinjur's sailcraft in a position where it could carry out an interception to check and make sure that no unauthorized weapons were in the enemy cargo. But not all ships were searched, only a random sample. The keeper of the random number generator was UNSPA.
"This is Captain Anthony Roma of the Greater United States Space Marine Interceptor Iwo Jima calling United Nations Space Peacekeeping Authority. I have intercepted a cargo light-tug of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. Request permission to board for Space-Peacekeeping inspection," he asked.
There was a pause as the UNSPA operator consulted a UN official. The official pushed a button on a carefully guarded machine.
"Permission granted," came the reply.
"GONG!" shouted Jinjur. "We've hit the jackpot!"
"Attention all hands!" said Captain Roma. "Prepare for an authorized inspection of a foreign spacecraft." There was a bustle as the control room filled up, while down below, spacesuits recently stored away in lockers were removed again, checked over carefully, then just as carefully donned.
Jinjur watched through the next hour as Captain Roma closed in on the Russian sail. They zoomed in with their video camera and explored the outside of the payload section. It was nearly lost in the immense sea of shining aluminum film.
"Looks like a perfectly ordinary cargo hauler to me," said Jinjur to the Captain. "But the way to keep those Ruskies honest is to give them a good shakedown whenever we get permission. I want one of the crew to take a remote flyer over every square centimeter of that sail, and I want computer backup, so that no little package stuck out in some rigging tens of kilometers from here is missed."
