Ariela sniffled. Wolff reached into his pocket and produced a go-pack of tissues. "Here."
Ariela pulled out a tissue and blew. Then she pulled out another and dabbed at her eyes. Finally she looked at Wolff. "Why do you have tissues in your pocket?" she asked. "Men never have a tissue when someone needs one."
"I've learned," said Wolff, "that packing a baby around all the time, you always need something to wipe with." He grinned. "Kind of like being around the RIFs."
"How so?"
"They always needed to be mopped up when we finished with them."
Ariela wrinkled her nose. "Nice." But she giggled a little, anyway.
"We thought so. So, are you coming or not?"
"I suppose, if the almighty simulation thinks I need to." She kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you at the ship. And thanks, Daddy."
"For what?"
"Cheering me up."
"All part of the service, hon. All part of the service."
Chapter 3
Shipsuits, Butterbars, and Commissions, Oh My
As it turned out, the ladies – Kat, Alicia, and Mei – decided to stay to help clean up, and return later aboard the Bandersnatch II, so Ariela was their only passenger on the way back. The Frumious Bandersnatch popped into existence in Timeline One just above the garage floor, and Wolff and von Barronov deftly set her on the ground with nary a bump.
Airlock open and the ship secured, Ariela said, "Dad, I thought I'd change clothes across the way. Is that okay?"
"Sure. You'll probably be staying with us for a few days anyway, so go ahead and do whatever you need to do in the guest room."
"Okay, I'll be right back." Ariela shouldered her ruck, and headed over to the passage door to the house.
Von Barronov and Wolff looked at each other. "Suppose we ought to change?" asked von Barronov.
"Sure," Wolff nodded. "She's probably got some new ACU outfit she wants to show off. So we'll wear our usual." They strolled into the office and hit their individual dressing rooms, emerging a few minutes later in fashionable desert MARPAT MCCUUs.
"Think the boonie hats are over the top?"
"Probably. I'm going with the utility cover."
"Sounds good." They pulled out their covers and put them on, then strolled back out into the hangar. Ariela was nowhere to be seen, and Wolff peeked into the Bandersnatch to see if she'd gone ahead in. She hadn't.
"Wonder where she is?" he mused. "She's usually pretty quick to get dressed."
Just then, they heard the passage door slam, and Ariela came running around the nose of the ship. "Sorry," she gasped, "took a few minutes more than I thought to get into this."
Wolff and von Barronov frankly stared.
"What?"
"That is not what you wore last time out," Wolff managed.
"Oh. Yeah. I found this a couple of years ago. Actually, Mom found it. She didn't like how scruffy the grey shipsuit looked, and thought this was less scruffy."
"She wasn't wrong."
Ariela was wearing an even more tightly-fitting, jet-black leather shipsuit. This one was armored, too, with overlapping "lamellae" on the shoulders and arm- and shin-pads, and what appeared to be armored boots, too. She wore fingerless black leather gloves that appeared almost to be part of the suit. On her left hip was her holstered 1911.
On her head reposed her red Lion of God beret.
Von Barronov found his voice. "Wow."
"Nice, right?"
"Nice ain't the half of it."
"Oh." She laughed. "Yeah, the guys kind of drooled when I wore it out clubbing. Didn't hurt that I've bulked up a little, now I've got the lupus under control. But I figured you older men would have more, hmm, resistance to the look."
Wolff closed his eyes and shook his head. "I really have to remember you're my daughter. And that I'm married. Good Lord. You look so much like your mother when she was . . . well, I guess I can't say 'your age,' but certainly when she was young and I was chasing after her."
Ariela laughed again. "Then I won't show you the pictures of us wearing the outfits. She got one, too. So did Mei."
"Well, certainly not now, anyway, not if we want to get off the ground and go look for aliens."
"Letch."
"Bet you didn't tell your dad that." Wolff gathered himself, visibly, and pointed toward the airlock. "Let's get this party started, dear. Oh, and those are frangibles in that .45, right?"
"Aye, aye, sir," she acknowledged, with a proper Marine salute.
"Spare mags?"
"Two in the side pouch, sir, both loaded with frangibles."
"Very well, Second Lieutenant Wolff. Let's board, shall we?"
"Aye, aye, sir." Ariela led the way up the ramp and into the ship.
"Since when is she a butterbar?" whispered von Barronov.
"Since I got this text from Buford, while I was dressing," whispered Wolff in return, showing his friend his comm screen. Von Barronov grinned.
"Really from the General, this time?"
"Yeah, I texted him to tell him what we were up to. He threw that back at me. I guess he wants her under the aegis of the Corps in case anything like what happened last time happens." Wolff scrolled down, found the attachment, and dumped it to the Bandersnatch's document printer. Then, he scrounged in his pocket and pulled out a small box.
"If those are what I think they are, they'll never go through that leather she's wearing."
"That's okay. She can put them on a uniform blouse when we get back." Wolff walked into the cabin and stepped back to the printer alcove long enough to pull out a piece of bond paper. He then walked up to the pilot's seat, and executed an about-face, ending up facing Ariela, who was starting to get that something was up.
"Attention to orders," recited Wolff. Von Barronov stiffened to attention behind Ariela, who also came to attention, wide-eyed.
The President of the United States of America.
To all who shall see these presents, greeting:
Know Ye that, reposing special trust and confidence in the patriotism, valor, fidelity and abilities of Dr. Ariela Rivers Wolff, M.D., Ph.D., I do appoint her a Second Lieutenant in the United States Space Force Marine Corps Reserve, to rank as such from the 1st day of November, 2044. This Officer will therefore carefully and diligently discharge the duties of the office to which appointed by doing and performing all manner of things thereunto belonging.
And I do strictly charge and require those Officers and other personnel of lesser rank to render such obedience as is due an officer of this grade and position. And this Officer is to observe and follow such orders and directives, from time to time, as may be given by me, or the future President of the United States of America, or other Superior Officers acting in accordance with the laws of the United States of America.
This commission is to continue in force during the pleasure of the President of the United States of America for the time being, under the provisions of those Public Laws relating to Officers of the Armed Forces of the United States of America and the component thereof in which this appointment is made.
DONE at the City of Washington, this twenty-fifth day of May in the year of our Lord Two Thousand Forty-Seven, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and seventieth.
"Wow!" breathed Ariela. Wolff stuck out his hand, and she took it.
"Congratulations, Second Lieutenant Wolff," he said, with a grin. She dropped the handshake, and came rigidly to attention, then saluted him. He saluted her in return, and after a three-count, they dropped the salutes. "At ease. And by that," he said, hastily, "I mean, really . . . as you were. No need for formality here."
"I don't know what to say."
"Few really do," observed Wolff. "Here are your butterbars." He handed her the small package, and she took them reverently. "Note that he backdated your commission to the end of our mission three years ago. That's so you have date of rank commensurate with your service – at least, in this timeline – but not
before the actions for which you received the Medal for the Defense of Freedom and the Silver Star, as a civilian. Now, I have to swear you in, so raise your right hand, and repeat after me:
"I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God."
" . . . So help me God," finished Ariela, eyes glimmering a bit.
"Congratulations, and again, as you were. The oath's appropriate for the Marines in both timelines," noted Wolff. "President Reynolds is going to communicate officially with his counterpart in your timeline and ensure that your Marines are aware that you're now one of theirs, too. Of course, you'll have to be commissioned by them if they want you to be an officer; the commission's only good in this timeline, though you should be recognized as one of our officers, at minimum."
"I'm not properly dressed," realized his daughter.
Von Barronov laughed; Wolff just grinned. "Don't worry about it," he said. "The butterbars are for a real uniform, when we get back. But you should have them now." He handed her the commission, which she took, reverently.
"Permission to store these in my ruck?" she asked.
"Honey, I said, as you were."
"Aye, aye, sir." She walked quickly to the back of the ship, and stuffed the little box into the top of her ruck, then more carefully rolled the commission up and secured it under the flap. She then returned to the cockpit. "I thought he was a blogger," she said.
"Who, the President?" Wolff smiled. "Yes, that, and a professor of law. And a great president, from all indications so far. So," he said, switching subjects, "let me ask you a question. Did your dad teach you how to fly the Bandersnatch II?"
"Um, yes . . . and Chris taught me how to navigate it, too," she affirmed.
"Tell us if you see anything different about the controls." He got out of her way so she could get a good look at the cockpit.
Von Barronov grunted. "So one of us can man the turret?"
"Got it in one."
"I don't see any obvious differences, right off," said Ariela, slowly. "They worked from your design, didn't they?"
"Yes. But nothing says they might not have added or subtracted or made other little changes of their own. That's okay, we'll check you out while we're in flight. Like I just told Chris, that's so one of us can man the plasma turret if we have to."
"Plasma turret? That was one thing they didn't have."
"I know. Chris gave them the plans for it while we were there." He pointed at the ceiling behind them, where a circular opening had been cut and a hatch installed. "Normally, we keep it closed when we don't need it, but take a look." He nodded at von Barronov, who stepped up to the console and snapped a switch.
The hatch dropped slightly and split in half, one half traveling forward and the other traveling aft, along small railings Ariela would have sworn weren't there a moment ago. She started to step aft to look inside, but Wolff's hand on her shoulder stopped her. "Hang on a sec, it's not done," he cautioned.
A platform telescoped downward and went all the way to the floor. She could see it contained a seat, with a four-point harness just like the rest of the seats in the ship, but nothing else. She glanced at Wolff, puzzled.
"Go now," he said, smiling.
Ariela walked over to the seat, and looked up. "Wow!" she exclaimed. "Can I go up?"
"Make sure they're locked out," Wolff said, aside, to von Barronov, who nodded. "Sure, go ahead. Sit in the chair, strap in, and hit the red button on the right side."
She sat, she strapped in, she hit the button, and up she went, into a small blister turret on top of the Bandersnatch. "Why didn't I see this turret before?" came floating down from above.
"Probably because it's hard to see from below, and you were in a hurry," called Wolff.
The turret rotated back and forth, and apparently she'd discovered the azimuth controls as well, as they could hear the seat tilt forward and back on its gimbals. "Neat!"
Von Barronov and Wolff traded glances. "Very glad we disabled the guns," grinned von Barronov.
"Hit the red button again to come back down, Ari," said Wolff. "We do have things to do today. And we'll let you take potshots at an asteroid or something, later."
A moment later, the platform telescoped back down to the deck again, and Ariela unstrapped and stood up. "Send it back with the red button?" she asked.
"You can, but that won't close the hatch. Let Chris do it from the console."
Von Barronov hit the switch, and the platform went back up and the hatch closed again. Ariela came forward and stepped over into her crew position from the last trip, right behind von Barronov's navigation station. "So the guns aren't actually part of the turret?" she asked.
"Right," said von Barronov, "they're mounted on a pylon behind it, but they mimic every move you make with the controls, and they're adjusted to match the vector you're pointing at. We decided it was simpler to mount them separately, so we didn't have to put holes in the aliglass turret. Much easier to seal that way. And they can't shoot the turret by accident, because they won't depress that far. They're not really meant for serious warfare, just for defending the ship long enough for us to warp or rotate out."
"What caliber?"
Wolff laughed. "Interesting choice of terms. It's a cut-down Constellation-class tribarrel, three four-inchers, and they put out about 250 million electron volts each. So the total is 750MeV, or about the same as those single-barrel turrets on those uptime corvette-frigates. Of course, we have only one, and they had two broadsides of six each."
"Yet I seem to recall Captain LaForrest saying something about how they'd still put more than a scorch mark on a Constellation, from orbit," observed von Barronov.
Wolff nodded. "And he was correct about that . . . or would have been if they'd been able to power up to fire."
"So," said Ariela, "where are we headed, this trip?"
"Roughly a thousand light years coreward," replied Wolff. "The star is designated WASP-110. Known to have one planet, but it could have more. It's, again roughly, in the Sagittarius constellation, and all but drowned out by the Milky Way. Radio signals seem to be what was discovered, and the radio signals appeared to be associated with civilization, according to the people most familiar with the subject."
Ariela frowned. "Was anyone actually listening in that direction? I mean, SETI, or whoever."
"SETI found the signals, but they're outside the norm for SETI. They were coming in at around 1.9 megahertz." Wolff waited to see if that rang any bells for his daughter, and he wasn't disappointed.
"But . . . that's the 160 meter band," she protested.
Von Barronov nodded; so did Wolff. "Smack damn in the middle of it," remarked von Barronov.
"Why were they even listening there? God, the hams probably were driving them nuts."
"Yeah," said Wolff. "Normally they listen between 1420 and 1720 megahertz, which is way the hell up in microwave country – that's in the S band. Now, want to take a guess at what mode they were running?"
Ariela grinned. "Had to be AM."
"Bingo! Give the lady a prize. Clearly, it's a news-talk station. I wonder if they're a bunch of conservatives looking for like-minded beings in the cosmos," laughed Wolff.
"Which still doesn't explain why they were listening in that band," von Barronov pointed out. "I smell the Simulation, but we'll have to go out there and find out."
"Yeah, lots of noise in that band, close to the AM stations that are still broadcasting – there's got to be an external reason for why they were looking there," agreed Wolff. "I mean, I doubt anyone accidentally jiggled the controls and dropped them into the medium wave part of the spectrum. And off frequency, at that." He took out his comm and looked pointedly at it.
"Well," he said, after a moment, "I guess the Simulation doesn't want to own up to this, so we'll just go out and see. Ari, take your station there behind Chris; I want you to monitor communications like you did on our first recon. You probably won't be able to make anything out, but do have the holotab keep an ear on that 1.9 MHz frequency, particularly as we get away from the radio noise here in the Sol System. Chris, let's mount up and get out of Dodge; we've got a long way to go and not much time to do it in."
They all took their seats and strapped in; von Barronov set a few switches, then looked at Wolff, and nodded. "Set for L4," he said, mostly for Ariela's benefit.
Wolff reached up, flipped the safeties off, and hit the big red switches. Dropping his arms back down to the console in front of him, he said, "My original plan was to jump from L4 to Alpha Centauri, then take hundred-light-year jumps till we get closer, checking our course and coordinates carefully at each stop. We don't have particularly good star maps out that far –"
"And it's not like there's a gas station selling maps out in the sticks like that," finished von Barronov, with a grin.
"Stole my damn line," grumbled Wolff, as Ariela giggled. "But it's the truth," he asserted, "and until we get some ships out this way doing surveying and mapping, there's always going to be an error in our parallax measurements from Earth. Now, Lieutenant, why was I going to jump to Alpha before doing anything else?"
"Misdirection?" guessed Ariela.
"Not bad," admitted her "father". "But we're not far enough from Alpha to misdirect much; our early radio signals alone have been well past Alpha since the turn of the 20th Century. Programs from the 1920's and 1930's, even from the 1940's, have gone beyond what we've managed to explore, so far. Any other thoughts?"
Ariela considered. "Alpha's astrolocation is well-known, so there's a baseline, even though it's only about four light years," she said. "Sanddoom is about a hundred light years out, which gives us another baseline. So you're jumping along the two known baselines to double-check and calibrate the navigation system so we don't get lost a thousand light years from home."
The Lion and the Lizard Page 4