The Daleth Effect

“Do you have hawks standing by to catch any carrier pigeons?” Nils asked i

“No! By God, should I?” Skou looked worried and chewed at his lip until he saw Nils’s smile. “You’re only kidding. You shouldn’t do that. I’m an old man and who knows, poof, my ticker could stQp at a sudden shock.”

“You’ll outlive us all,” He

“Yes, of course,” Nils said, and groped under the control panel for his own hat. “Throw Dick Tracy out of your chair there and we’ll get started on the pre-launch checklist.”

He found the cap and put it on; he felt uncomfortable. He took it off and looked at the dimly seen emblem on the front, the new one with the Daleth symbol on a field of stars. With a quick motion he threw the cap back under the controls.

“Remove your cap,” he said firmly. “No caps to be worn on the bridge.”

Skou stopped at the door and called back. “And thus the first great tradition of the Space Force is born.”

“And no civilians on the bridge, either!” Nils called after the retreating, chuckling figure.

They ran through the list, which ended with calling the crew to their stations. He

“They’re ready with that patch from the microphones now,” he told Nils.

“Tell them to stand by. Hook it into the PA after you have made an alert check on all stations.”

The crew was waiting, ready at their stations. They were checked, one hy one, while Nils watched the crowd of notables come forward. A military band had appeared and was playing gustily; a thin thread of the music could be heard even through the sealed hull. The crowd parted at the stand and a tall brown-haired woman made her way up the stairs first.

“The Crown Princess Margrethe,” Nils said. “You better get that patch co

The small platform was soon filled, and the PA system came on in the middle of an official speech. It was astonishingly short—Skou’s security regulations must have ordered that—and the band struck up again. Her Royal Highness stepped forward as one of the crewmen on deck lowered a line to the platform, a bottle of champagne dangling from the end. The Princess’s voice was clear, the words were simple.

“I christen thee Galathea….”

The sharp crash of the bottle against the steel hull was clearly heard. Unlike an ordinary christening the ship was not launched at once. The officials moved back to a prepared position and the platform was dragged clear. Only then were the launching orders given. The retaining blocks were knocked clear, and a sudden shudder passed through the sjiip.

“All compartments,” Nils said into the microphone. “See that your loose equipment is secured as instructed. Now take care of yourselves, because there is going to be a slam when we hit the water.”

They moved, faster and faster, the dark water rushing toward them. A tremor, more of a lifting surge than a shock, ran through the fabric of the ship as they struck the water. They were slowed and stopped by the weight of the chain drags, then rocked a bit in the waves caused by their own launching. The tugs and service boats closed in.

“Done!” Nils said, relaxing his hands from their tight grip on the edge of the control panel. “Is the launching always this hard on one?”

“Never!” He

“Unusual times cause unusual circumstances,” Nils said calmly, now that the tension of the launching was over. “Take the wheel. As long as we are seaborne you’re in command. But don’t take her down like you would one of your subs.”

“We cruised on the surface most of the time!” He

While He

They could have moved under their own power, but it had been decided that the tugs should warp them free of the harbor first. No one knew what kind* of handling characteristics this unorthodox ship would have, so the engines would not be started until they were in the unobstructed waters of the Sound. After a brief exchange of sharp, fussy blasts on their whistles, the tugs got under way. As they moved slowly down the harbor, following the torpedo boat that had weighed anchor and preceded them, they had their first clear sight of the area beyond.

“Some secret launching,” He

“Everyone in town knew that something was up here. Once we were launched you couldn’t stop them from turning out.”

The tugs swung a long arc and headed for the harbor entrance. The mole and seawall on either side were black with people, and still more ru

Well clear of the shore the tugs cast off, tooted farewell, and turned about.

“Cast off,” He

“You may proceed then,” Nils said.

There were a separate set of controls at the second pilot’s position, used only for surface navigation. Two great electric motors were mounted on pods secured to the hull of the ship. Only electric cables penetrated the pressure hull, assuring an airtight continuity. Each motor drove a large six-bladed propeller. There was no rudder; steering was controlled by varying the relative speed of the propellers, which could even be run in opposite directions for sharp turning. Throttles and steering were all controlled from the single position on the bridge, accurate and smooth control being assured by the computer, which monitored the entire operation.

He

“What’s our speed?” Nils asked.

“A stupendous six knots. Our hull has all the fine seagoing characteristics of a gravy boat.”

“This will be her first and last ocean cruise, so relax.” He made a quick calculation. “Slacken off to five knots, that will get us to the harbor at dawn.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Their maiden voyage was going more smoothly than anyone had expected. There was some water seepage around one of the hatches, but this was caused by an incorrectly sized gasket and they could fit one of the spares as soon as they docked. In the semidarkness of the bridge Nils crossed his fingers: it should only stay this way.