Daring by Mike Shepherd

took a deep breath as she considered what kind of force could make such a difference.
    â€œChief, talk to me about that hot spot,” Captain Drago said.
    â€œNelly, pass all that we’ve gotten to the fleet,” Kris told her computer.
    â€œKris, I’ve been doing that. The other ships of the fleet have a lot of science aboard, too. Our data is just verifying what the other are concluding, as well. The Haruna has gone to General Quarters.”
    â€œPass the word to PatRon 10. General Quarters, Guns. Unknown cause.”
    â€œDone, Kris.”
    On the Wasp , the General Quarters’ Klaxon began to sound.
    â€œWe’re the closest to that moon, Captain Drago,” Kris said. “Would you close on it, please.”
    Of all the ships in PatRon 10, only the Wasp had a contractor for a captain. He was older, more experienced, more mature. He drew his check from Admiral Crossenshield’s black-ops funds. He was here, Kris didn’t doubt, at King Raymond’s specific order to see that Kris didn’t do any of the damn fool stunts that he and Grampa Trouble had done before they reached old age.
    Someday, she expected he would countermand one of her orders. She waited to see if today would be that day.
    â€œSulwan, put us closer to that unknown event,” he ordered.
    â€œAye, aye, sir,” the navigator replied.
    So, not today, huh.
    â€œYour Highness, the Intrepid is nearby,” Captain Drago observed.
    â€œYes, right,” Kris said, properly instructed. “Nelly, invite the Intrepid to join us in this little side trip.
    â€œDone, Kris.”
    On the screen, two dots broke from the strung-out line of ships still decelerating, aiming for a lower orbit of the giant. The Wasp and Intrepid , however, stretched their vectors to match the high orbit of the moon in question.
    â€œCan somebody give me an idea of what we’re heading into before we actually ram that damn moon?” the captain snapped.
    â€œIt’s a rocky planetoid with no iron core. Its surface is a cold mix of vapors, some water, some methane, lots of crud,” the chief said. “Liquid, not gas. I don’t think there are any lakes; the moon’s surface looks pretty rough.”
    â€œWe boffins concur,” Professor mFumbo said.
    â€œOne small spot is showing hot,” the chief went on after a hasty breath. “I’m trying to get a visual, but that heat seems to be steaming off the volatiles. Radar . . .” He paused. “Radar isn’t coming back. Something’s driving our radar nuts.”
    â€œActive or passive?” Kris and Captain Drago said at the same time.
    â€œI can’t tell. I’ve got some sort of electromagnetic crap coming from there, but it’s not organized like anything I’ve ever seen.”
    â€œCan you laser range it, get a picture that way?” Kris asked.
    â€œI’m lasing it.”
    â€œNope, nothing,” he said a moment later. “Laser can’t get through the vapors.”
    â€œIs there a gravity well?” Kris asked.
    Every mass sets up its own gravity well. The very sensitive atom laser on the Wasp , designed to track twitchy jump points, was the most sensitive instrument for measuring variations in that weakest of the four natural forces. Weakest, but most important. Just ask any two-year-old trying to defy gravity with each step.
    â€œChecking,” the chief said. A long moment later, he nodded. “There’s something solid there. There’s definitely more mass under that hot spot than there is in the rest of the moon.”
    For fifteen long minutes, the rest of the fleet decelerated into lower orbit and went about beginning the process of refueling. Meanwhile, the Wasp and Intrepid cut back on their deceleration and swept toward a much higher orbit, one that would take them on a quick flyby of the mystery-shrouded moon.
    Sulwan, good navigator that she was, guessed before Kris