“That is one hell of a space dock,” Gunny Juda said, awe in his voice. “You could park a dozen Blades in this thing at once, sir.”
“Yeah, Gunny,” Berg said, trying for a stable and serious tone. “But this is probably less than five percent of the total area of the tree. Most of the trunk, yeah, but not most of the tree. This thing’s not purely a space dock.”
Oh, grapp this, he thought. He knew that he was supposed to let other people take the risks but he just had to try this for himself.
Stepping gingerly off his board he tested the firmness of the tunnel floor first. Solid as a rock.
“Sir, what are you doing?” Gunny Juda asked over the command circuit.
“Having fun, Gunny,” Berg replied, walking forward to the opening. He balanced on one foot, not the easiest thing to do in a Wyvern, and carefully tapped the semi-transparent bridge. Seemed solid. “Get ready to catch me.”
“Sir, I can do that,” Staff Sergeant Carr said.
“Got it, Staff Sergeant,” Berg replied, stepping fully onto the bridge.
The view was more than terrifying. It was better than eight hundred meters straight down to the curved “bottom” of the tree. But he wasn’t about to let that stop him.
“I’m wondering if these people really used this thing,” Berg said, walking forwards. “I mean, this is one long damned…”
“Sir, slow down!” Gunny Juda snapped.
Berg stopped and turned around and was surprised to find that in just a few short strides he had separated from the platoon by nearly a hundred meters. He hadn’t noticed any effect of acceleration as you’d get from a moving sidewalk and the walls were so far away there was no perspective for speed.
“Now that’s interesting,” Berg said, starting to walk back. Going in that direction, it was apparent that just a few steps accelerated him to much faster than running, but he slowed automatically as he approached the opening. He paused there and looked at the edge of the narrow platform. He squatted down and extended his claw outward towards the edge. It hit a barrier and he nodded. “Thought so.”
“What’s that, sir?” Gunny Juda said.
“No handrails, Gunny,” Berg said. “That meant either a race that was suicidal or something we couldn’t see. There’s a force field there. You can’t fall off this thing.”
A few experiments determined that, in fact, the entire tunnel had the same system, which seemed to be a side-shoot of a reactionless drive system. The surface of the tunnel and the bridge moved under the foot just as a slidewalk would, but had some type of stabilization field that mitigated all the normal effects. The slowing as he’d approached the tunnel entry, moreover, was an effect of the crowding at the entrance. With no one blocking the entry, a user continued through at a rate of nearly thirty miles per hour, while walking at a normal pace. Users moving at different speeds, one a slow walk, one a fast walk, moved at relatively different speeds on the speedwalk. And the one time that two Wyverns collided at a relative speed of nearly fifteen miles per hour, there was no indication of contact, no clang of metal hammering on metal, no bruising, no flailed chests; the field eliminated the effects of inertial energy entirely.
“Sir, we’re getting on for time,” Gunny Juda said. “Damnit, Donder, get your ass back here!”
“Incoming, Gunny!” the lance corporal said from near the top of the bridge. He got the Wyvern up to a max-speed run and the gathered Marines at the opening flinched as he came in like a rocket. But just before he got to the gaggle he screeched to a slow walk as if he’d hit a brick wall. “YES!” he shouted, holding both claws overhead in victory. “One hundred and twenty miles per hour in a WYVERN suit! That has to be some kind of record!”
“God damnit…”
“Try Cupid, Gunny,” Kaijanho said with a sigh. “You haven’t used that one in a while…”
“God damnit, Comet!”
“That one’s actually appropriate. Can I keep it?”
“I’m not taking the ship in there,” Captain Prael said, shaking his head. “Not going to happen.”
The dragonflies had been admitted through a large airlock directly into the cavern. They had landed on the platforms, checked them out with interest and then returned. They had also determined that whereas the whole cavern was not pressurized, the platforms were, invisible force fields holding the air in but somehow letting the dragonflies and their riders through. The size of the field was large enough, on one of the medium-sized platforms, to cover the whole Blade.
“Well, sir, what we’ve found so far is the parking garage,” Weaver said. “And I’d say that’s exactly what this is, sir. It’s the parking garage for whatever the Tree really is. It might be a repair dock, but so far we’ve seen no signs of that. Just stuff for moving people. I’m starting to rethink my suggestion that this is a weapon. There is no sign of control of entry.”
“So what is it?” the CO asked.
“Short of doing a thorough survey, sir, I’m not sure we can find out,” Weaver told him.
“Suggestions?” Prael asked, looking around at the group. “Anyone?”
Berg wasn’t really happy being at a contentious meeting with the CO of the Blade. He was, by far and away, the most junior officer on the ship and as such he kept his mouth shut.
“Is it still your intent to go get Hexosehr advisers, sir?” Captain Zanella asked.
“Yes,” Prael replied. “This is too big and too advanced for little old us to figure out.”
“That will take at least two weeks, sir,” Captain Zanella pointed out. “A period during which there should be little or no threat to the ship and nothing to investigate.”
“You’re suggesting I leave the Marines,” the CO said.
“Sir, while you are gone we can be surveying the structure,” the Marine said. “By the time you get back we could have found a control room or something similar for the Hexosehr to investigate. If we just go with you, we’ll have to do it when we come back and we’ll have lost two weeks.”
“Not to mention two more weeks with the Marines cooped up on the ship,” Bill said, keeping in mind some of the more unpleasant incidents on the last two voyages. He frowned in thought for a moment and then continued. “Frankly, CO, we probably should leave a larger group. Call it a prize crew if you will. While there are no indications that we can comprehend anything about this technology, a few technical people would be in order. We’re going to need to set up a full base station for the Marines, anyway. The Marines are going to require some logistical support.”
“This all assumes I’m going to leave the Marines,” the CO pointed out but nodded. “Which actually is a good idea, Captain Zanella. And the logistical support is on point. While the Marines could probably survive for two weeks without it, they are going to need a base station, which means leaving some mechanics and electricians at the least. XO, come up with a plan and have it on my desk by end of shift.”
“Yes, sir,” Bill said with a sigh.
“Damn,” the CO muttered. “If we have to offload, I’m going to have to take the ship into the docking bay.”
“Approaching force field in ten seconds,” the pilot said.
“Reduce approach speed to one meter per second,” the CO said. “Let’s take this nice and slow.”
“One meter per second, aye,” the pilot said, reducing their forward velocity. “Fourteen seconds… Ship entering field…”
“XO?” the damage control talker said. “Forward torpedo room is reporting odd effects… really odd effects…”