Tempest on Tau Ceti: The Battle for Power Read online

  TEMPEST

  on

  TAU CETI

  A Novella

  By

  H. S. Rivney

  Tempest on Tau Ceti

  By

  H.S. Rivney

  Copyright 2021 by Holly S. Rivney, All Rights Reserved

  A Pioneer Explorers Adventure

  Mission IX

  Web Page and Blog

  From the Stratosphere

  ASIN: B09CKLX9QH

  Formerly published as Gamma Ray Games 2016

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  Mission IX, 2157, 08 August

  The Auchsonian commissioned report to the North American Continental Department of Energy indicates that at least one fission reactor has been constructed and is operating on Ceti D of the Tau Ceti system, coordinates 101-33-11. The last Earth visit to Ceti D in 2150 documented a pre-industrial society without use of fossil fuels or combustion engines. Science Ship Linus Pauling, under command of Captain Thomas K. Jackson is hereby deployed from Space Station Novissimus to the Tau Ceti planetary system to investigate the report and define the circumstances on Ceti-D. If necessary, identify the parties involved and reconcile the impact of the technology. Consideration of the emerging Ceti D parliament, and the future development as part of the local stellar community, namely The Orion Spur, is of paramount importance.

  UPON ARRIVAL

  Tau Ceti, a G-type star on the Main Sequence, glowed like Sol. It supported half a dozen planets in its fairly average system. The planet in the fourth orbit, unceremoniously labeled “D”, hosted a humanoid population of almost one quarter of a billion individuals in a relatively advanced stage of technology, similar to Earth’s Roman period. Far from space faring, two humanoid species existed simultaneously. The less advanced species was limited to a single island continent, and appeared to be in a declining state, never having reached an agrarian level of development. Like Neanderthals, they would not be part of the planet’s biome in just a few millennia.

  He’d not come to visit that race. Captain Thomas Jackson’s first and only visit was primarily scientific, and didn’t concern the primitive species at all. He didn’t consider himself a scientist, but nevertheless enjoyed his appointment on a science vessel. Over the years he’d learned that scientists were rather quirky people, prone to living inside their heads, employing fewer social skills than the average human. He sometimes wondered if a deep space mission, a colonization assignment, or perhaps a patrol ship might be more interesting; even a cargo ship would have more recreational activities aboard. On the other hand, the brainiacs rarely caused trouble and were laudable opponents at the monthly chess matches. As the Science Ship Linus Pauling assumed orbit around Ceti D, he carried his half-finished breakfast coffee with him as he made his way down the corridor.

  Scott Gregory, a mission specialist in astrophysics, strode toward him.

  “Going off duty? Gee, you look like you need another vacation,” Jackson said.

  “I hope this is our last tour before we go back to Earth,” the older man said. “Two weeks’ shore leave on a space station isn’t my idea of a vacation.”

  “Come on. We’ve only been out of space dock eight months. Well, you can run all your scans and map all the asteroids from orbit,” he said. “Sorry, Scott, I don’t need your skill set on this trip. You want to come down anyway?”

  “No, I prefer being on the ship. No atmosphere to cloud up the view. You’re leaving now?”

  “I think it best to get down there early; sun’s coming up near the coordinates,” Jackson said. Scott extended his hand.

  “Good luck, Tom. See you back soon.” Parting in opposite directions, Jackson didn’t wait for the air lift but simply took the steps two at a time, two flights, without spilling a drop of his sweet, black, morning elixir. When he reached the shuttle bay, his small crew was already aboard.

  After one orbit, then clearing the atmosphere, the transport shuttle hummed quietly, hovering for its final approach to land in a grassy clearing surrounded by trees and away from any settlements. Serving dual duty as the pilot, when possible, Jackson secured the vehicle at the helm, and shut down the power systems. Behind him, the landing party filled their pockets with a variety of electronic devices, including directional location units, cameras, and a hand-held data access gadget which linked to the Linus Pauling using the power from the shuttle.

  “Welcome to Ceti D. Ready back there?” he asked. A number of systems needed to be locked down before they could start their adventure. He flipped switches and checked readouts from his seat.

  “Aye, Captain,” Lieutenant Edwards answered for himself and Ensign Moore.

  Before leaving the shuttle, they changed, removing uniforms for costumes as indigenous citizens. They had painted their exposed skin with a brick-tinted pigment, hoping to blend in without too much suspicion. The three of them resembled each other enough, with lean frames, russet hair, and skin with the same hue, that their claiming to be a family from another part of the planet would be plausible. Although humans and those of the primary population differed significantly internally, externally their facial features could be explained as easily as the three primary races on Earth.

  The captain plowed through tall legumes and flowering plants, trees, and shrubs toward the ocean. The crew of two officers followed. Cool wind blowing in from over the ocean confirmed that their choice of long, wool cloaks over their lightweight trousers and tunics had been a smart one.

  “I certainly think we’re headed in the right direction,” Jackson said to his officers when they stopped at the edge of the town. A few kilometers ahead of them near the coast, a pair of cement steam towers jutted a hundred meters into the sky, a stark anomaly against the foreground of woodlands and thatched rooflines of homes. A couple kilometers behind them, their transport shuttle had disappeared, swallowed up in the green of woodland foliage.

  “How long has it been, sir, since you were here?” asked Ensign Moore.

  “Seven years. Nothing’s changed much out here. Looks like a few more buildings; I see they’re still using oil lamps, but it’s hard to miss those reactor towers.”

  “Sir, do you think the Kiians actually put it up?” Jackson glanced at Lieutenant Edwards over his shoulder but kept walking ahead.

  “Cetians don’t have the technology, and Kiians do. In fact, they have far more advanced technology than fission. That’s part of what makes no sense. I know you both read the report.” The two of them nodded. “Since there’s a Kiian ship in orbit of their large moon, I’d say it’s a damn good bet.”

  “Sir…” Edwards began.

  “Jamul, remember, don’t call me ‘sir’ while we’re here.”

  “Aye, sir. Captain. I mean…”

  “Tom, just call me Tom while we’re here. It’s a one-name culture.” Jackson didn’t recall if he’d ever been ordered to call a commanding officer by anything other than their rank or ‘sir’, and imagined if he’d been in his crew’s boots it wouldn’t have come easy. He cut them some slack, but the appearance of informality was critical on this mission.

  Early in his command of the Science Ship Linus Pauling, Ceti D had been one of the earliest planets of pre-industrial peoples he’d encountered. The suspected Kiians were well known on Earth as metals merchants, but their home world was twenty light years in the opposite direction of Tau Ceti, towards the center of the galaxy, not the Orion Spur. Although humans had not made their presence known on Ceti D, he was sure one Cetian knew of him, personally. And he planned to find her as soon as possible.

  “How in Neptune’s Name does a huge fission reactor go up without anyone noticing?”

  “Oh, I’m sure they noticed,” he said, “but my guess is they think the technology came from another part of Ceti D, not some mystery race of aliens. It’s hiding in plain sight.”

  “Maybe it’s not even hiding,” Edwards said. “The report stated this was a thorium reactor, not uranium?”

  “That’s right.” Jackson remembered when he first set foot on this planet. He’d been in command of Linus Pauling just five months on a mission to marshal a group of geologists exploring for gold on an unpopulated area of the eastern continent. Having become rare on Earth, and more necessary than ever for electrical components, solar applications, medicine, and star ships, finding a new source was the primary reason to venture into deep space in the first place.

  This time, however, after receiving a report, followed by some commissioned espionage into the Kiians’ merchant activities, he was chosen to return. Plainly, he was the only person available who’d been there before. Gold not being terribly abundant, humans had opted to leave the planet and its inhabitants alone. The natural evolution of the Ceti-D society was undoubtedly perverted by such an aberration of technology which loomed ahead. It was an overtly obvious contrast to a pre-industrial age. The question now was to confirm the guilty party and assess the extent of damage, then report back to HQ.

  The three humans casually strolled into the town center. Finding a single building out of
hundreds that all appeared alike wasn’t as easy as Jackson had hoped it might be. His eidetic memory that had served him in childhood had gone extinct well before he’d finished college. Damp, morning air hung in the pathways between the homes and shops. Obedient bonfires, burning deep in iron barrels, hosted gatherings of three or four chatting Cetians warming their hands and enjoying a hot morning drink of some kind. Although morning was over on the Linus Pauling, it had just started on this longitude. At the end of what appeared to be the main road, the library, lit by electricity, hummed with activity, a curious situation in the early hours. They followed the stone-paved street until it ended.

  The trio exchanged glances and headed in quietly hoping to remain inconspicuous while digging through the most advanced technological information they could find. Just inside the heavy wooden doors, warm air rushed to welcome them. A door-sized, hand-drawn map of the town was posted on the wall, helping them orient to the village. It placed the reactors prominently in the northeast corner, and he found the specific home he was seeking in the southwest portion. He fixed its location solidly in his mind in relation to the library. He had old business there.

  “This is Quinaal’s salon, if I remember,” he said tapping a spot on the map.

  “She was the metallurgist on that first gold mission?” Moore asked. He nodded.

  “Let’s hope we can find some data about the reactor in here,” Edwards said.

  “Best place to start, Lieutenant, I mean, Jamul, sorry. You find information on the geology and thorium, and uh, Beth, you dig up what kind of radiation sickness or medical issues they might be having. I’ll look for references to the reactor technology and see how long this thing has been here. Meet back at that table in twenty minutes.” They split in three directions, focused, but remaining nonchalant.

  Jackson removed his cloak and carried it while he browsed among the bookshelves, but nothing appeared even remotely helpful. Shadowed by frustration, and the difficulty in reading the alien language, his mind traveled back in time. He hoped Quinaal would remember him, if he could find her. When accompanying the geologists, Jackson had stolen away with her, and the two of had them tromped through subterranean caves. Alone, they searched not for gold veins like the humans, but for platinum ore, a favorite of hers simply because it was beautiful, which was reason enough for most any adventure.

  He’d recognized that her courage and tenacity would make her a great addition to his crew. She’d not been half as surprised as he expected when he confided in her about his origins and introduced her to human technology. Alas, convincing her to leave her planet had come to naught. Nevertheless, those had been thirteen sweet days, carefree, and unexpectedly intimate. He hadn’t forgotten about them. He got back to the shelves before he got lost.

  “So, what have we got?” he asked his team, sitting down at the hand-made table, away from the books. Twenty minutes had certainly passed quickly.

  “I didn’t find any documentation for radiation sickness, or illness attributed to the reactor,” Beth explained, opening two books across the table. “I found illustrated books on anatomy, and basic medicine, but it’s all mechanical and organic. No references to antibiotics or advanced surgical techniques like organ transplants or even vaccines, only plant extracts and such. And … I hate to think about it: sutures and needles for closing lacerations,” she winced and drew her mouth into a flat line. The captain grinned at his field medic’s genteel aversion to archaic medical technology, then turned to his geologist.

  “And the thorium?” he directed at Jamul.

  “Well…um, T-Tom…” the young lieutenant began haltingly, glancing at the Cetian company in earshot, “there are a few manuscripts on minerals and elements. I didn’t have time to translate them fully, but I recognize the chemical formulas. A hydrogen atom can only look like one thing.” He put his hands on a chemistry book, and opened one of the geology books. “Monazite sand is abundant here, especially this continent. The sands are mined, almost sifted, for thorium, above ground. The process isn’t difficult, not like uranium. Since thorium isn’t fertile, stand-alone ‘radioactive’, the mining it isn’t nearly so hazardous.”

  “Well, that’s a start,” Tom said. “I can’t find anything here on electricity except one book on theory. Nothing that would support Cetian technology on 20th century Earth level. I did some research after we got this assignment. You see, a thorium reactor produces electricity the same way a uranium fuel reactor does, but thorium can’t burn alone, like uranium. It has to be hit with a constant stream of neutrons. There’s a quick, two-step decay process, then fission. If you turn off the neutrons, the process will stop. The fuel stops burning, like cutting off the oxygen to a fire. If for some reason it gets too hot, the heat melts a plug built in underground, the molten salts surrounding the core drain off, and the process stops. You can’t stop a uranium fuel reaction. It has to burn itself out.”

  “So, it can’t meltdown?” Beth asked.

  “Yes,” Jamul answered, “but the failsafe is instant so the radiation damage is nominal. This all works at normal atmospheric pressure. And, most important, because it needs neutron bombardment, thorium can’t reasonably be made into nuclear weapons, like uranium.”

  “But there is still some radioactive waste. And, now we’re left with a new question,” Tom said. “If they aren’t making weapons from the thorium, why did Kiians put up a reactor here, in plain sight? And why a fission reactor? The Kiians are far more advanced than that. Why not a fusion reactor or better still a solar facility? And for that matter, why at all? Did the Cetians solicit or sanction it?” Jackson shook his head slowly and no one spoke for a few moments.

  “Sir-I mean-Tom, um, why did Earth use uranium reactors if thorium was safer, easier to mine, minimal radioactive waste?” Beth asked. The two men looked at each other with little expression and then back at her.

  “Weapons, politics, and supply,” Tom replied. “Uranium was used in weapons, the Second World War, then as a power source. Testosterone ruled in the 20th century, and governments didn’t put up research money for just anything. War was profitable.”

  “Thorium isn’t abundant on Earth, either,” Jamul added.

  “Luckily that was short-lived, only a few major accidents over a hundred years and then they jumped to renewables.” He leaned on the table and glanced over the books. “What are Kiians getting from a thorium fission reactor they can’t get any other way? What is so valuable to warrant that…” he waved, looking out a window where a bit of the reactor was visible. “Monstrosity?”

  When they finished with the books to the limit of the translation reader and recorder, they left the library with more questions than they’d answered. Tom took a last scan at the map before they left to look for Quinaal.

  “I hope you two studied your Cetian. It’s time we start speaking their language.”

  “This is a charming town,” Beth said in a pidgin version of Cetian. “It’s like going back centuries in time. Everyone speaks the same language?”

  “I imagine isolated populations speak their own language, like on Earth.”

  “What are those?” Jamul asked and pointed to an ox-like animal harnessed to a wooden merchandise cart. The group paused to study it.

  “I didn’t see those the last time I was here,” Tom said. Perhaps half a kiloton, the animal appeared to be an awkward griffon but more primordial; it was less a mix of lion and eagle, more a mix of horse and a three horned chameleon-alligator. “Apparently, a Cetian beast of burden,” he stated. “They have odd animals here. Blue lobsters, three-eyed dragonflies, and I guess this beast, too.” The lieutenant and the captain resumed their journey toward Quinaal’s home when a moment later Beth screamed! The men spun about and saw her sitting in the street, her hand bleeding copiously on the ground and her garments.

  Tom leaped five paces back to reach her, and noticed a crowd of Cetians gathering around them. So much for blending in quietly. He gathered her off the cobblestones and with Jamul’s help, pulled her to the walk-side, away from the animal. It snorted and bobbed its hulking head up and down.