“And if you think that’s weird, sir,” Darryl added, “take a look at the spectral readings from the planetary atmospheres.”
The majority of a Jovian’s troposhpere was hydrogen and helium and that was the case with these planets: Atmo was 86% hydrogen and 13% helium. And after studying literally hundreds of them since the Blade went out, it was well understood what the mix would be depending upon the type of star that was in the system and the distance the gas planet was from that star. For Sol-like stars, Jovians between about three to fifteen AUs were mostly like Jupiter or Saturn and consisted mainly of hydrogen and helium gases in the outer layers. Deeper into their interiors were liquid metal hydrogen and very few other materials. Gas giants that had orbits out past fifteen AUs typically had hydrogen and helium in their tropospheres but also had other compounds like methane and ethane there as well. Deeper in those large gas planets were water and ammonia ices and even rocky materials.
In the case of these planets, however, the numbers were just… off. High levels of krypton, neon, and argon were present in planet one. High levels of sodium and neodymium in planet two.
“Metals in one planet, nitrogen in that planet, noble gases xenon, krypton, and… argon?” Bill said, swearing again. “It’s 4% argon?”
“The planetary chemistry has been tailored, sir,” the astronomy-mate said, pushing his glasses up his nose again. “I did the math while you were on your way down. That’s more argon in that planet’s atmosphere than the mass of the Earth. Be interesting to find out where they got it. Given that I’ve found no rocky planets or moons in the system, sir, they might just have converted it from those, assuming they could change huge masses of one element into another. Based on normal blue-white solar systems, the mass transfer is about right.”
“I so didn’t want to hear that.”
“This entire system has been tailored,” Bill said, shaking his head. “And that thing has to be why.”
“The question is… what is it?” Prael asked.
“A weapon,” Bill said. “Nobody expends that much energy on anything else. Their version of a supercarrier is my guess.”
“Something that can destroy this part of the galaxy?” Lieutenant Fey interjected. “There’s enough power there.”
“This is reality, Lieutenant,” Captain Weaver replied, “not an Xbox game. Think about propagation time. Even if it could destroy ‘this part of the galaxy’ it would be a while before the destruction got anywhere, don’t you think?”
“There may be a data point for that,” the TACO said. “A weapon that is. We’ve detected what look like meteoric impacts away from the surface. I think it has some sort of shield.”
“I’m surprised they left any asteroids in the system,” Bill muttered. “They sure seem to have cleaned up otherwise.”
“So much for getting close, then,” the CO said, ignoring the muttering.
“Not… necessarily, sir,” Bill replied, breaking out of his reverie. “There are various types of theoretical shields that will stop a meteor but not a vehicle that’s going slow enough. Not saying that’s the case, but it’s possible.”
“How do we test it?” the CO asked.
“Well, the dragonflies are just sitting there.”
“It’s important to approach from the shade, Colonel,” Bill said. “It’s going to get really really hot if you don’t.”
“So you have repeatedly told me, Captain Weaver,” Colonel Che-chee said. “I will make that approach.”
The ship was in orbit around the star at three AU from the tree while Colonel Che-chee and her wingman accelerated towards it.
“Approach slowly,” Bill reminded her.
“I will endeavor to avoid being smashed, XO,” the colonel said.
“Flight One, follow the ball,” the fighter control officer said, punching in deceleration orders. “More, more, stationary relative. Ready to advance, Colonel?”
“Quite,” Che-chee said.
“That’s about where we think the shield is, sir,” the FCO said to the hovering officers. “If it’s really a shield it’s a big one, extending nearly a kilometer from the tree.”
“Given its size, that’s not all that far,” the CO said dryly.
“But it’s far enough we can fit the ship inside it,” Bill said.
“Point.”
“Flight One, two hundred meters to shield,” the control specialist said. “One fifty. One hundred. Fifty…”
“That is an odd sensation,” Colonel Che-chee said. “All my fur just lifted.”
“Flight one is inside the theoretical shield zone,” the control specialist said.
“Keep them inside it,” the CO replied. “Colonel, are you willing to go try to look over the edge at the sun? Be aware that if this shield doesn’t work the way it seems to, you’re going to get fried. You will not survive.”
“Then I will let the male take the risk,” the colonel replied. “That is what males are for. Vector?”
“Dragonfly five approaching edge of Limb One,” the control specialist said. “Maintain heading and course. Reduce speed. Prepare to decelerate and reverse. Five, four, three…”
“No effect,” Colonel Che-chee reported. “I’m moving forward.”
“Careful, Colonel,” the CO said.
“Ka-kre reports no ill effect,” the Cheerick said. “But he does ask why the sun is so dark…”
“Why put something like that that close to the sun and then put a shield on it to reduce solar input?” Lieutenant Fey asked.
The shield acted as a polarizer on the side pointed to the sun, essentially a giant sunglass lens, reducing solar input to marginal levels.
“Prevents long-term degradation, I suppose,” Bill said. “But the point is, the thing didn’t react to the Flies. In fact, there’s no indication that it even knows we’re here. You’d expect some sort of automated defense system.”
“Degraded?” the CO asked. “If it’s from the same race it’s over twenty million years old.”
“Massive power output,” Bill pointed out. “The shield’s still working and there’s apparently a reactionless drive to hold it where it is, sir. If this thing has had any degradation effect from sitting around for a bunch of million years, you’d think one of those systems would have gone.”
“And we still have no clue what it is,” the CO said, sourly.
“The Tum-Tum Tree, sir,” Bill said, chuckling. “God knows we’re all in uffish thought.”
“What?” Captain Prael snapped.
“I never thought of you as a quoter of poetry, XO,” the CO said, frowning.
“ ‘Jabberwocky,’ by Lewis Carroll, sir,” Bill said. “When the Adar named this thing the Vorpal Blade I looked it up and memorized it. If there was ever a Tum-Tum Tree, that’s it. The way things are going, I’m looking for the gimble in the wabe.”
“Well, let’s hope the Jabberwock doesn’t come burbling for us, here,” the CO said. “Next step?”
“Send in the Marines?”