“So what kind of particles are we looking at?” Lieutenant Bergstresser asked.
Captain Prael looked nonplussed at the question and turned to Weaver.
“Lots of neutrinos, quarks, pentaquarks and fermions,” Bill said. “No neenions.”
“Didn’t think so, sir,” Berg said, grinnning, then turning serious. “But that sounds a lot like the output of the engine, sir.”
“Similar,” the TACO admitted. “Not exactly the same, though. It’s possible, however, that a part of the power source is a black box system.”
“Colonel Che-chee didn’t detect any entries on her flyby,” Bill continued. “But that’s what you’re looking for. Hopefully, this thing has an intact control center, maybe even some clue as to what it does. Take your platoon down to the surface and look for an entrance. Just for giggles, I’d suggest that you start on the trunk extension. More particles seem to be coming from that area. But we don’t have a lot of resolution at this distance. Stay in contact and continually feed us data.”
“Roger, sir,” Berg said.
“This is a recon, Lieutenant,” the CO said, looking over at Captain Zanella, Berg’s commanding officer. “Don’t do anything rash.”
“Wasn’t planning on it, sir,” Berg said.
“You know why you’re doing this, right?” Captain Zanella asked. “You’re our most experienced space hand and the best Marine we’ve got with particle readings. But you’re not a physicist and you’re not Superman. Just get in there, get the readings, try to find a hatch and get out.”
“Yes, sir,” Berg said.
“Good luck, son,” Captain Prael said, standing up and holding out his hand.
“Thank you, sir,” Berg said.
“Second Platoon, Bravo Company will approach the anomaly from the out-system direction in line, Team Bravo, Heaquarters, Charlie and Alpha in sequence. Upon reaching the tip of the anomaly, teams will spread in echelon to cover one hemisphere of the anomaly, Bravo left, Charlie left, Heaquarters forward, Alpha right, and will proceed upwards towards the spread end. Teams will maintain head-down position and use laser rangefinders to maintain one hundred meters separation from the anomaly. Open personnel separation as proceeding to maintain maximum spread across the hemisphere. Upon reaching maximum spread, platoon will reconfigure and move to trunk portion, performing a close sweep of the underside and trunk region. In the event that no opening is found, platoon will then move to the opposite hemisphere and do the same actions in reverse, regrouping at the tip and then proceeding back to the ship.
“Conditions: This is space, people. Conditions inside of the shield are reported to be nominal spatial conditions. Outside the field and in direct line to the star, suit temperatures will briefly rise to over four thousand degrees and turn the wearer and suit into an expanding ball of atoms. Do not get outside the shield.
“Communication: All sensor systems including but not limited to particle sensors and visual sensors will crossfeed to platoon radio transmission operator. RTO will ensure constant communication with the ship and will retrans all sensory data to the ship on specified frequencies. Teams will monitor platoon net at all times. Teams will not enter other teams’ nets unless specifically ordered to do so. Teams will not communicate on platoon or command nets unless specifically ordered to do so.
“Safety: Pairs will check all seals prior to entering EVA chamber. Pairs will check for seal closure and leak upon draw-down of atmosphere. If all checks are good, personnel will then and only then exit chamber on boards, maintaining separation. Individuals will maintain minimum ten meters separation while in movement on boards. Weapons will be safed with no round in the chamber. In the event of failure of seal during EVA, individual will be placed in secure-bag and team will return with individual to the ship, opening bag only upon full resumption of normal pressure.
“Commander’s Intent: It is the intent of the commander to gather information from the anomaly and find an opening to same while staying alive doing so. This is a reconnaissance mission, only. Platoon will take no pro-active actions in the event of finding out-of-standard readings or an opening. In the unlikely event of threat we will back off and call for support. Are there any questions?”
“Sir?” Corporal Shingleton said, raising his hand.
“Go.”
“Are the particles dangerous?” Shingleton asked.
“No,” Berg said, looking over at Gunnery Sergeant Juda with a raised eyebrow. “To repeat, all that has been observed is penta-quarks, fermions, quarks and neutrinos. Anybody know what that output resembles?”
“The ship’s engine, sir?” Lance Corporal Kaijanaho asked.
“Correct,” Berg answered. “You’ve got the same things going through you right now, Corporal. I want a report from you on the output level of the ship’s engine in the Marine quarters under normal use by Monday.”
“Yes, sir,” Shingleton said, wincing.
“A coherent one,” Berg continued. “Any other questions? No, then let’s get it on. Gunnery Sergeant Juda, a moment of your time?”
“…Don’t know diddly about particles, sir,” the gunnery sergeant admitted. “So I’m having a hard time getting them more advanced than they already are.”
“My fault,” Berg said. “I should have been checking into it. When we get back, shoot me their most recent scores in standard particle identification. I may have to give some classes.”
“Yes, sir,” Juda said. “They’re good Marines, sir, but…”
“There are good Marines, Gunnery Sergeant,” Berg said quietly, “and then there are good Space Marines. The two are not necessarily synonymous. We need to get it on. We’ll discuss this later.”
“Platoon, hold position.”
Up close the Tum-Tum Tree looked less like a tree and more like a bunch of pagoda roofs stacked on top of each other. Each layer had multiple points of equal size with more points on each layer as the layers got larger. There were five at the very end, by the sharply tapered point, then eight, fifteen… If there was some sort of mathematical sequence there, Berg wasn’t getting it.
It was also spectacular. Each of the “branches” that led to the points fluoresced in a cascade of colors, shifting through most of the visual spectrum. There was no definite light source; it played from somewhere in the transluscent depths of the thing. There seemed, however, to be a more intense line of the color in the depths, as if something was pulsing the colors into the branches like blood through veins.
Berg swung around, getting particle readings, and then frowned. The particles waxed and waned with the colors, pentaquarks being the most prominent line at this range. He had no grapping clue what that meant.
He also knew what he wanted to do but knew, as well, that he couldn’t do it.
“Gunnery Sergeant,” Berg said. “I need someone to go down and make physical contact with the surface. They’re to touch it, lightly, and get particle readings from up-close. They are not to touch it if they determine there may be a threat.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Juda said.
Lance Corporal Antti-Juhani Kaijanaho was a second generation Finnish immigrant born and raised in Orange County, California. With dark hair and eyes, a wide-flat face and very slight epicanthic folds from some Lapp ancestor, he had eventually just started spouting gibberish that sounded vaguely Asian when people asked him if he was, Chinese, Japanese, Korean or Cambodian. His favorite had been one guy who had been absolutely sure he was Mongol and wouldn’t take Finn for an answer.
When he had joined his first Force Reconnaissance unit his team NCOIC had looked at his face and name and said: “Kaijanaho. Japanese, right?”