by Ryk Brown
Aiden looked at Ken, that same goofy grin returning.
“Aiden, please, get rid of the grin. It’s embarrassing.”
Aiden laughed. “I can’t help it, Kenji.”
* * *
Derek walked down the dimly lit corridor from the lab to the secure exit. As usual, he was the last to leave, or so he thought. As he passed the last intersection, he noticed light coming from an open door down a side corridor. He paused a moment, then decided to investigate.
As he approached the open door, he realized it was to the metallurgy lab. He entered the room and found Abby sitting at one of the testing counters, rubbing her eyes. “What are you doing in here?” he wondered.
“Just waiting for the fatigue tests on the last batch of failed emitters.”
“Shouldn’t you be home by now? Won’t your family be worried?” Derek wondered.
“They’re at a game at school,” she said. “They won’t be home for another hour.”
“Surely the results can wait until morning.”
“I just wanted to get the numbers, so I could start fresh in the morning.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Derek said, sitting in a nearby chair. “I really thought the extra terrenium was going to do the trick.”
“So did I. That’s the reason I wanted to get the test results. I think the terrenium might have held onto the charge longer than expected.”
“You think that caused the emitters to fail?”
“Maybe. The discharge curves should tell us,” Abby said. “But first, I need to know the true failure points in the emitter structures, and if they were identical across the board.”
“Well, I can live without that knowledge until morning,” Derek yawned. “I can barely keep my eyes open. Honestly, Abby, I don’t know how you put in the hours you do.” Derek rose from his chair and headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said as he departed.
Abby sighed. One of her greatest faults was her inability to let unanswered questions wait. Her calculations had indicated that the extra terrenium should have given the emitters the ability to withstand the energy loads without failure of their discharge surfaces. And each of their tests had backed those calculations up…until the last one. That’s when reality and the numbers went awry. According to Abby’s calculations, the terrenium-enhanced emitters should have been able to handle at least a seventy-percent power load, yet they had all failed at fifty percent; far below their predicted failure points.
She would stay until she had an answer. Her husband would understand. He always did.
Finally, the computer began to display the results. She studied the data on the view screen closely, comparing every value with those predicted by her pretest calculations. They had all failed in precisely the way she had predicted, but at twenty percent less power than expected.
She checked the test data; the power settings showed fifty percent, just as they had the last ten times she checked them.
She leaned back in her chair, dejected. Fifty percent was not enough power for a stealth jump drive to be effective. Specifications called for a stealth jump range of at least ten light years. While fifty percent would get them ten light years, it would require the ship to accelerate considerably. The ten-light-year requirement was without acceleration, and rightfully so. With the advent of the jump drive, warships no longer needed to carry massive propellant stores as their speeds remained relatively constant.
Abby began gathering up her data pads to place them in their chargers. She was not going to find her answers tonight, that much she would have to accept. But then, something caught her eye as she picked up one of the data pads. The pad contained the output logs for the reactor used for the emitter test chamber. She scrolled through the peak output graph for the day’s testing cycles. As expected, each spike was slightly higher than that of the previous test. All the way until the last one, when the spike was drastically higher.
Abby expanded the graph on the data pad. The spike at the moment of the last test, the one that had caused the emitters to fail, did not indicate a fifty-percent power output; it showed a ninety-three-percent power output from the reactor. Twenty-three percent higher than the predicted failure point.
“This can’t be right,” Abby said to herself. The failure patterns on the emitters matched what was expected at seventy percent. At ninety-three percent, the damage should have been much worse.
Of course, while that answered one question, it raised another. Regardless, it meant one thing; she now had a metallurgy formula for creating stealth jump emitters that not only met the ten-light-year criteria but exceeded it, likely by at least five light years at average speeds.
“Oh my God,” she exclaimed softly. “We’ve done it.” She looked around, as if to call out to someone to share the moment, and then remembered she was alone. That’s when reality hit her.
Admiral Galiardi now has what he needs to attack the Jung with impunity.
The thought terrified her. The Alliance had enjoyed an advantage over the Jung for nine years and, because of it, the two empires had managed to forge a tenuous peace. A stealth jump drive would tip the scales so far in the Alliance’s favor that the Jung would not stand a chance. Perhaps worse yet, if the Jung discovered that the Alliance had a working prototype stealth jump emitter large and powerful enough to jump a warship ten to fifteen light years, they would be forced to attack with everything they had before the Alliance could outfit their ships with the new technology.
But it would take the Jung years to get their ships to Earth, or to any other Alliance world in the Sol sector.
Assuming they did not yet have their own jump drives.
Abby knew what she had to do. With a few taps, she deleted the reactor output logs.
* * *
Josh sat in the middle of the Seiiki’s cargo bay as Vladimir carefully placed the oddly-shaped, virtual reality helmet on his head. “I can’t see a damned thing,” Josh said as Vladimir fastened a strap under Josh’s chin and cinched it tight.
“Hold on a minute,” Vladimir told him as he moved behind Josh and touched the control pad on the back of the helmet. “First, the system has to make a connection to your brain.”
Josh felt the helmet squeezing gently all around his head. “Wait, what kind of connection? This thing isn’t going to jack something into my skull, is it?”
“Nothing like that,” Vladimir assured him. “It uses a sensor network all around the outside of your head. You should feel them by now.”
Josh felt a tingling feeling on his scalp. “Yeah, I do. It’s creepy. It feels like bugs crawling all over my head.”
“How come we’ve never heard of this?” Loki wondered.
“It is very new technology,” Vladimir explained. “This device has the ability to mimic any environment or situation, without requiring all the space that a normal flight simulator needs or using a real cockpit in simulation mode.”
“Any environment or, uh, situation?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Josh,” Nathan scolded.
“This thing is safe, right?” Loki wondered.
“I have used it myself,” Vladimir assured him.
“Can this be used for ground combat simulation?” Jessica asked.
“This model, no. It requires the user to be in a sitting position. For use on a moving user, it requires more sophisticated proprioception data processing. But I believe they are working on a model for that purpose.” Vladimir checked the control display on the back of the device. “There. It has made the connection. Do you still feel like bugs are crawling on your head?”
“Nope.”
“Very well, I am activating the simulation environment.”
Josh felt something strange. His hearing faded away and he felt as if his entire body was going numb. E
ven his sense of smell had left him. “What the hell?” He held his hands up, touching his fingers to his thumbs one by one. He could feel them, but just barely. Then, his vision came alive. Slowly, at first, as if someone was gradually turning up the lights. But he wasn’t in the Seiiki’s cargo bay any longer. He was sitting in the pilot’s seat of a Cobra gunship.
“Oh…my…God,” he said in awe, looking around. Everything around him looked incredibly real. If it wasn’t for the fact that everything was too perfect, he wondered if he would be able to tell that is was a virtual reality simulation.
“Are you okay?” Vladimir asked.
“What the…” Vladimir’s voice sounded different. “You sound like you’re on comms.”
“That’s because I am,” Vladimir replied. “As long as the simulation environment is active, anyone standing near you will sound as if they are on comm-sets.”
“This is crazy,” Josh exclaimed with boyish glee.
“Okay, the first thing we need to do is get your senses accustomed to the virtual reality environment. It will feel a little different.”
“Feel?”
“Yes,” Vladimir said. “The system is sending sensor input to all three of your primary senses. Sight, sound, and touch.”
“I can touch stuff?”
“Yes. Carefully reach out and touch the console in front of you,” Vladimir instructed.
Josh reached forward and placed his right forefinger on the edge of the console in front of him. “Whoa,” he giggled. “This is so cool!” He immediately started touching things—buttons, switches, flight controls—it all felt like the real thing. “Fuck the rebellion!” he exclaimed. “Let’s go into the VR sim business! You know how many credits you could make with this technology?”
“Try to stay focused on the task at hand, Josh,” Nathan urged as he watched Josh reaching out and touching things that were not there.
“This is kind of fun to watch,” Loki jeered. “Josh, you look like an idiot.”
“Wait till you try this, Lok!” Josh exclaimed, still moving his hands around and touching things. He stopped a moment and touched his fingers to his thumbs again. “Hey, I can feel myself touching myself.”
“You sure you don’t want to rephrase that?” Loki teased.
“You know what I mean.”
“The system still allows sensory input from the real world around you,” Vladimir explained. “Primarily your sense of touch and balance, although the balance part is limited. That is why you must be seated, so that you don’t fall over. But sight and sound are completely overridden.”
“Where did this tech come from?” Jessica asked.
“The Data Ark,” Loki guessed.
“Correct,” Vladimir confirmed. “It was in widespread use just before the bio-digital plague hit. Of course, it was far more sophisticated; they had complete worlds in which they could exist, regardless of their position within the real world. You could be sitting still and feel like you were walking, running, jumping…”
“Among other things,” Josh giggled.
“Do you remember how to start up the ship’s systems?” Vladimir asked.
“Please,” Josh replied. His head titled upward and to his right as he reached for an imaginary overhead panel.
Josh began activating systems in the sequence he had memorized from the Cobra gunship operating manual he and Loki had been studying since they left the Aurora for Earth thirty hours ago. Every switch he touched felt real. He could even feel the resistance of the switches, the click sensation in his finger, and the sound of the switch in his ears. The sound even had direction to it, being louder in his right ear than in his left. “This shit is amazing,” he commented as he continued activating systems. “APUs are hot. Reactors are spinning up. Startup sequencer is active. Initiating engine startup sequence.”
“You don’t need the engines to be active to jump from the launch rails into space,” Loki reminded him.
“Maybe not, but there’s no reason not to start them now,” Josh replied. “Besides, I feel better knowing they’re at least in the startup sequence before we head down that rail. I don’t want to become a submarine if the jump drive fails.”
“There may not be enough propellant on board to power you to orbit if the jump drive fails,” Loki pointed out.
“Maybe, but it certainly won’t be an option if the engines aren’t spooled up,” Josh argued.
“Good point.”
“How’s it going?” Vladimir wondered. “Is your body getting used to the simulation?”
“Are you kidding? This shit feels real.”
“Just don’t get up from your chair,” Vladimir warned.
“Why?” Josh asked.
“Just don’t.”
Josh couldn’t help himself. He had to try. As soon as he stood, his head began to spin and everything began to change shape, distorting in odd ways. “Whoa.” He immediately sat back down and closed his eyes, keeping them closed while he waited for his head to stop spinning.
“I warned you,” Vladimir said.
“You knew damn well I was gonna stand as soon as you told me not to, didn’t you?”
“Who, me?” Vladimir replied sheepishly.
Josh opened his eyes again. Everything appeared normal, but his fingers were tingling once again.
“It will take a moment for the system to realign with your body’s proprioception centers. You disturbed them when you stood up,” Vladimir explained.
“I can see why this thing can’t be used for combat training,” Jessica commented.
Josh felt the tingling subside and continued with his startup procedures. “Okay, the reactors are at fifty percent and rising. Main propulsion is online, and maneuvering is online. Jump drive will be ready in one minute.” Josh felt the cockpit shake slightly. “What was that?” He looked out the window and noticed that the scenery outside the ship was sliding to one side. “We’re moving…I think.”
“That is correct,” Vladimir assured him. “I am moving your ship to the launch rails, as planned in the mission.”
“But I’m not ready yet.”
“Then I suggest you get ready,” Nathan urged. “There will be little time.”
“No problem,” Josh replied. “Hey, I can actually feel us rolling on the dolly-thingy. I can feel it in my ass.”
Loki shook his head.
“Is there any way we can see what he sees?” Nathan asked.
“Yes, but it requires additional equipment, which we did not bring,” Vladimir replied.
“Why not?” Jessica wondered.
“The point is to give everyone an opportunity to practice operating a gunship,” Vladimir explained. “As none of us are instructors, visually monitoring the user’s actions would be of little benefit.”
“How much were you able to shorten the transit time from parking to launch position?” Nathan wondered.
“Five minutes per ship, with one minute between each ship,” Vladimir said.
“One minute?” Loki wondered. “That’s pretty tight spacing, isn’t it?”
“You would rather stay on the ground and remain a target a little longer?” Vladimir asked.
“One minute it is.”
“Okay, now I’m bored,” Josh declared, his hands on his legs, his helmeted head slowly turning from side to side as he scanned the VR environment that only he could see. “This thing have in-flight vid-plays?”
“I notice you didn’t include the process of overriding the lockout codes in the simulation,” Jessica commented.
“I didn’t program this simulation,” Vladimir told her. “All I did to it was speed up the transit time to the launch position. That will be accomplished at the launch controller shack, not in the cockpit.”
“But shouldn’t they be practicing the override sequence?” Nathan wondered.
“It’s just entering the sequences I give them, once I figure it out on the first ship,” Vladimir explained. “I don’t see the need to simulate that.”
“I’m coming up to the launch position now,” Josh reported from under his VR helmet.
“Are you ready to launch?” Loki asked.
Josh scanned his console, checking that everything was ready. “Flight dynamics display is good; main propulsion and maneuvering are up; reactors are at eighty percent.”
“How’s your jump drive?” Loki asked over the simulated comms.
Josh tapped the jump control screen on the center console, calling up the launch jump. “Looks like there’s an initial launch program already in the jump drive’s database, just like the manual said.” Josh called up the program and started entering the parameters. “Looks like you can either choose the default distance, or enter one of your own.”
“Better to enter one of your own,” Nathan suggested. “Something further out. If they send Super Eagles to intercept, they’ll probably start with the default jump distance programmed into the launch jump sequence.”
“Good thinking,” Josh agreed, dialing up a different distance. “I’m doubling the default distance for now.”
“We should probably come up with prearranged distances, and post jump turn-outs for the actual mission,” Loki said. “That way, we don’t jump into one another.”
“Telles already thought of that,” Jessica told them.
“Figures.” Josh glanced up at the flashing warning light on the annunciator panel. “I’m in launch position. I’m showing a ten-degree-down angle.” He looked around. “Isn’t there a manual dolly brake release around here somewhere?”
“Flip open the side panel on the center pedestal,” Loki reminded him. “Then twist and pull.”