EXTRACT FOR
The Ship That Dove Into The Sun
(Sean Brandywine)

Suddenly, there was an instantaneous distortion of reality.  It lasted only for a few microseconds, but all on board the New York felt it.  In that incredibly brief instant, each person on the ship felt as if their very being was twisted inside out, a feeling that was more mental than physical yet very strong.



The three of them in the lounge looked at each other.



"That was a jump," said Olga.  "We're back to sub-light speed."



"But..." protested Donovan.



Olga sat back down, shaken by the incident.  "We should not jump here.  We're only half way to Alpha.  Something must have happened."



* * * * *



The bridge crew looked to each other in startled amazement.



"We jumped back!" said the Captain, disbelief filling his voice.



Alexei leaned over one console.  "Is correct," he said.  "We're not only sub C, we're nearly at a dead stop.  According to these readings, we are not moving at all."



"That's impossible!" said the Captain.  "You cannot go from 56 C to zero in an instant."



"Sir..."



The Captain and Alexei both looked up to find Madori pointing to the viewing port.  There, nearly filling the port, was that ship.  It seemed massive as it hung there, a few stars surrounding its image.  The stars demonstrated vividly that they were not moving; they were undistorted and of normal color.  No relativistic effects at all.



"What the hell!" muttered the Captain.  Max crossed himself.  The others simply stared in disbelief.  A long time passed before anyone could do more than stare at the object that had apparently pulled them to a complete stop.  It was Madori who finally broke the stunned silence.



"That certainly was not made on Earth," she said in awe.



"Got that right," said the Captain with a shake of his head.  "Max, get on the comm.  Are they trying to contact us?"



Max DeFoe became busy at a console.  His fingers danced over the keys, his eyes shut to better pay attention to the noises in the earphones.  After long minutes Max did not move.  When he finally opened his eyes and looked up to the Captain, he said, "I'm getting some kind of signal in the 144 MHz band.  But I can't tell how it's modulated.  Doesn't seem to be FM or AM."



"Anything else in other frequencies?" asked the Captain.



"Not on those we are set to monitor.  We're not a research ship; I can only monitor the communication bands we expected to use, not all possible frequencies.  Now that signal is gone."  He fiddled with a dial.  "It seems to have shifted to 175 MHz."  A minute later: "Now it's gone again."



"I guess they tried to contact us.  We're just not set up to receive.  Damn!"  The Captain felt helpless.  Here was the most important event in human history, the first contact with aliens, and there was nothing he could do.  "Try contacting them on our usual frequencies," he told Max.



"Already trying.  No response."



"Damn!" the Captain repeated.





Back in the dining room, half a dozen puzzled passengers were all standing around looking bewildered.



"I wish we could go up to the bridge to ask what happened," Dr. Sinclair said.  "But passengers are not allowed there."



Just then, a crewman, one of the stewards, rushed by.  "Hey!" called Donovan, "What happened?"



"Don't know.  Nothing has come down from the bridge."  He hurried on, as if he had someplace important to be.



"Best thing to do is to go to our cabins and await word from the Captain," said Donovan.  He was looking at Sindra as he said it, not really worried about the unexpected jump to sub C and still hoping to test those pouty lips.



"Perhaps you are right," muttered Ogla.  "But this is highly unusual.  There is absolutely no reason why this ship should drop to sub C.  And a great many reasons why it should not."



"I'll walk you back to your cabin," offered Donovan as he took Sindra's elbow in his hand.



Olga saw his not very subtle intention and frowned.  But she was old enough to know that she no longer attracted men the way she once did.  With a sigh, she turned to go, leaving the Donovan to make his move.  A slight smile crossed her lips.  Sindra was as worried as she was.  That would either drive her into his arms or turn her cold as ice.  Her guess was that he would not "get lucky" that night.



"That's really not necessary," Sindra was saying.  "I can find my cabin on my own."



Not one to be defeated so easily, Donovan ventured, "Would you like a nightcap?  Would help to relax you."



"Mr. Donovan," she replied with a smile that looked very nice on those pouty lips, "you are being more than a little heavy-handed.  Why don't you just ask me if I would like to go to bed with you?"



Encouraged by the smile, he grinned and told her, "Would you?"



"No."



"Oh..."



"But keep trying.  Maybe sometime you'll succeed."



As she turned to walk away, Donovan was left standing there with his mouth hanging open and trying very hard to decide if he had been totally rebuked or encouraged.  He tossed off the rest of his drink and uttered a heart-felt, "Damn!"



* * * * *



"Damn!  What can we do?  Why don't they do something?"



The Captain of the New York was confused and frustrated.  "They stopped us.  Now they just sit there, doing nothing.  Why?"



No one on the bridge answered his questions.



Eventually, Madori remembered what kind of ship they were and told the Captain, "Perhaps you should get on the horn and tell the passengers something.  They will know that we've gone sub C."



"Tell them what?" he snapped.  "That an alien ship has stopped us in our tracks?"



"Tell them we had to drop to sub C for a mid-course correction," suggested Alexei.



"Yeah, they won't know what B.S. that is," the Captain said as he reached for the mike.



"Attention.  This is the Captain speaking.  Some of you may have noticed the transition a few moments ago as we dropped to sub light speed.  There is nothing to worry about.  This is simply so we can take a navigational fix and make any mid-course correction needed.  We will be resuming our journey soon.  Thank you."



He put down the mike and swore.  "I suppose I lied to them.  We won't be going anywhere until that ship lets us.  Alexei, do we have enough anti-matter to build back up to where we can jump over C?"



"Sure, Captain.  We have enough reserves to make the trip back to Earth when we leave Alpha.  But if we have to use them now to restart, we won't have them for the return trip."



"So, we'll have to wait at Alpha until another ship can bring us more anti-matter pods?"



"Right."



"The Company will be very upset about the extra cost and delay, but that can't be helped.  Maybe they'll be so happy at the news that it was one of their ships that make the first contact with aliens, that they will forget about a little extra money."



"Tell that to the bean-counters in Accounting," muttered Madori.



"Meantime, what do we do about this?" the Captain said, waving his hand at the silver-blue sphere filling the port.



* * * * *



Marla Crofton knocked on the door to cabin 3B.  "Enter," came a voice from within.  She opened the door and told the man standing inside, "Cleaning."  He waved her in and continued shaving at the tiny sink in the tiny bathroom.  As the electric razor hummed away his stubble, Marla went about quickly and efficiently changing the bedding.  She paused before leaving, however, when she saw the uniform hanging in the small closet.



Colonel Bruce "Brick" Bronston finished shaving and noticed her looking at his uniform.  "That's for when we get to Alpha," he told her.  "No use wearing it on the journey."



"My father was in the Air Force," she told him with a hint of respect in her voice.



"What unit?" the Colonel asked, mostly to be polite.



"Ninety-third Fighter Squadron," she told him.  "He was a mechanic.  He was killed when the base was nuked during the Fourth Gulf War."



"I'm sorry to hear that."  The Colonel was honest in his feeling.  He had lost some good friends during the "limited conflict" that the press called the Fourth Gulf War.  He still carried a few scars and a slight limp from when he had to eject at 120,000 feet and mach two.  Still, he considered himself one of the lucky ones.  Getting blown out of an aircraft doing twice the speed of sound by an explosive charge under his seat usually kills a man.



At that point, the transition to sub C occurred, leaving both of them staring at each other.  "Was that...?" he started to ask.



"I think we just jumped," she replied.  "That is what it feels like when we stop at Alpha."



Damned unusual, he thought.  Being assigned to the staff of the World Space Control, he was very familiar with interstellar flight and knew full well that there was no reason to jump sub C only half way through the flight.  But he said nothing and let Marla go about her business.  Making sure he had his ID badge, he moved rapidly towards the bridge section.



* * * * *



"I've done everything but put a welcome sign in the port window.  They are not responding to anything I send on any frequency."  Max was looking as frustrated as the Captain.  "I thought I heard some more of that signal a couple times, but nothing that sounded like communication."



"Maybe we should just try to start up again," suggested Alexei.  "They've had a good look at us now.  Maybe they'll let us go."



"I have been thinking along those lines, but somehow I have the feeling they won't.  And any race that can stop a star ship in high C flight should be able to easily stop us if we start up."  The Captain felt like pounding his fist on the console.  "Wish I had weapons on this ship."



"We're not Air Force Space Command," commended Madori dryly.  "We're a peaceful passenger liner."



"What the hell do they want, already?"



"My guess is that they are trying to communicate," added Madori.  "But their equipment and ours are different.  Even if they used the same frequencies and modulation, would we understand their language?  It is only in the video shows that all aliens speak English."



"They why don't they try something else?  Flashing lights or something."  The Captain was on edge, and it was showing through his usual calm, professional exterior.  "Or just get in a shuttle and come over."



"Maybe they are waiting for us to make a move," offered Alexei.  "Something more than radio signals that they cannot understand any more than we seem to be able to understand theirs."



"We have three shuttles in the hangar bay, right?" asked the Captain.  His nervousness was showing in that he knew his ship very well and could probably recite the names, vehicle numbers and other data on each of those three shuttles.  "Maybe if we break out one and just go to a point half way between the two of us.  That should be considered an overture for contact, right?"



"Captain, we don't know how alien these creatures are.  Maybe they do not think like us at all," Madori said.  "A small craft heading towards them might be considered a weapon.  Maybe by their standards they are making all reasonable efforts to contact us."



"Why the hell didn't they intercept one of our exploration ships?  They had linguists and all kinds of experts just hoping for a chance to meet an alien culture.  Why us?"



"Captain," interrupted Alexei, "they may be making the first move now."  He was pointing to the viewport.  A dark hole had opened in the side of the alien craft and a small craft was emerging.



"Well, finally," breathed the Captain.  "Make sure the hangar is airtight then open our hangar access.  Let's invite them in."