by Shae Mills
"Okay," said Dar smiling at her. "I'm taking you to a private hangar next to the one we entered from RIBUS 8. These are all Korba's own ships, and the area is heavily guarded, so don't be alarmed."
Chelan nodded, trying to catch her breath as she followed the Warlord toward the workout area. As they approached the private security doors, Chelan stopped automatically without Fremma's guidance. Soon they passed through the last set of doors and entered a vast, brightly lit hangar.
Dar led her to the central area to let her look around. As the little alien's saucer-like eyes began to absorb the expanse, Dar and Fremma signaled silent orders to some of the men, and all became deathly quiet.
Dar switched to English, knowing it would delay any attempts made by Security to monitor their discussions. "So where do you want to start?"
The Warlord's deep voice jarred her from her enthrallment. She remained mute as she bit her lip with nervousness, noticing for the first time the proliferation of guards. She could feel their eyes upon her, and for a brief moment she wondered if she really wanted to be here. But her mind was made up quickly when her exploring eyes fell upon the massive secondary fighter. The ship's familiar shape reminded her of the F-15 and sent a wave of excitement washing over her. She simply pointed to it.
Dar smiled and began walking toward it. Fremma lagged behind, making last-minute mental notes of which of his men were present in the extremely unlikely case of any problems.
Chelan squinted at the craft as she approached it. Something was odd. Then her eyes widened. Though landing gear was visible and in a downward setting, the wheels did not touch the ground, and there was a mild distortion to the surrounding air.
Chelan slowed and Dar turned to her, sensing her apprehension. She pointed to the base of the craft and looked up at Dar with disbelief. "That's what you mentioned earlier, about folding space," she whispered.
"Exactly. The vessels emanate an energy field below them that negates the gravitational field produced by the battleship. You'll begin to feel some residual effects as you get close to it."
Dar turned toward the fighter. Chelan had no true idea how big the ship was until she stood near it, her small frame dwarfed by its sleek, ebony body. Dar turned to her. "While on the hangar deck the energy is directed downward just below the landing gear. It is because the field is pinpointed that you can work around the ship without feeling any of the ill effects of it. When we land on a planet, the gear is usually up, and the energy field is dispersed under the whole ship. During that situation, you must remain on the periphery of it, for if you were ever to attempt to move through the field, your life expectancy would be measured in milliseconds. You usually don't have to worry about how close is too close. The distortion that will occur to your body will let you know."
Chelan remained still, no longer sure she wanted to access the ship, but Dar smiled reassuringly and extended his hand to her. She reached for him, and with her next step she felt as though the ground was moving beneath her. She clutched his hand and looked up at him wide-eyed.
Dar chuckled at her indecision. "That's the field, Chelan. You're feeling the small portion of it that radiates out along the ground." Dar reached up to the ship and hit an encapsulated switch. Instantly and soundlessly, hidden handholds emerged from the once flawless skin, and the cockpit covers slid back. Dar began his ascent, drawing Chelan up with him easily. Standing on the top footrest, he reached under her arms and held her next to him.
Fremma ascended the other side and smiled warmly at her across the cockpit. Chelan smiled at him briefly and then looked down, suddenly aware that she was precariously perched a good twelve meters above ground. She swallowed and diverted her attention to the cockpit. Then her eyes opened wide. It was nothing like any Earth technology. It appeared extremely simple. Outside of a few switches and buttons, it was devoid of any visible instrumentation.
Dar began. "When the hood is closed, the cockpit is totally black. You do not see anything external to the ship, but instead you see holographic projections of only the necessary data. The scanners take care of that, eliminating superficial information and all other distractions and nonessential stimuli. Task saturation can be a huge problem is some situations, so it is important to keep things simple. The floating imagery is projected from the central panel and immerses the pilot in a simplified view of the external surroundings and terrain. Targets, aircraft, missiles, heat sources, people, and anything else deemed important, are all displayed to the pilot relative to his position in space and time. Therefore, the display will not clutter the pilots' vision or thought processes with such things as clouds, colors distortions, objects not targeted, or anything else the pilot does not want portrayed. But the degree of complexity and the amount displayed is under the pilot's control. He may request a total pictorial image that would supply him with a complete external view. If he is on a reconnaissance mission of some sort, he may ask that a totally unadulterated view of his surroundings be presented, with the imaging equipment still highlighting points of interest or concern depending on his intent."
"He may ask?" she asked incredulously.
Dar nodded. "Many of the fighters' functions are voice controlled. That frees the pilot's hands for ship maneuvering."
Dar paused, allowing Chelan to collect her thoughts. Then he continued. "Both people in this fighter are similarly immersed in the holographic system, although they each see totally different projections, depending on the duties allocated to each person. In general, the person in the back primarily watches the automatic tracking of any hostile foreign objects or targets heading their way.
"For example," he continued, "if at near light speeds one of our fighters was being pursued by several enemies, and the vessel ended up in a complex solar system, the projections sent to the two men would be totally different. The pilot in the front would see a 3-D view of only the celestial bodies, and his job would be to get the vessel through. The person in the back would see only the projection of the enemy crafts relative to them. This person would track the incoming enemy crafts, relay the information to the pilot's computer, and at the appropriate time as determined by the scanners and the automatic weapons systems, would tell the pilot when to fire. The pilot then chooses the appropriate weaponry, and decides when and if to fire in the allotted time. This decision-making process pertaining to the weaponry is not exclusive to the pilot. If his hands are too full, then all weapon systems are available to the Second-in-Command.
"During all this, both pilots actually look forward, seeing two 180-degree spheres of information around the fighter, one from the front of the fighter, one from the rear. The two scans are superimposed on one another in two colors. Therefore, their eyes can remain front and center while they actually see the complete 360-degree sphere of area surrounding the ship."
"What happens if they look around?" Chelan asked. "With our HUD systems, you have a very limited effective viewing angle."
"That is not an issue here. As I said, the pilot is immersed in the projection. He is at the center of the sphere and sees what he wishes by looking in whichever direction he chooses."
Chelan drew several deep breaths, her mind brimming with questions. "What about G forces?" she asked. "How do your pilots deal with the G forces?" She looked down at herself. "These suits aren't pressure suits."
"No," said Dar. "I'll show you." He took her by the waist and hoisted her up as Fremma hooked her under the arms and settled her down into the cockpit. Fremma reached down and began pulling a few switches, and some displays began to light up.
"What's happening?" she asked.
"Fremma's starting up the ship," Dar replied.
Chelan's wide eyes flew to Fremma's in surprise. Fremma leaned on the edge of the cockpit and smiled at her. "Are you ready?"
Chelan held very still as Dar hit a button. Chelan felt a strange sensation and her eyes dilated as she began to float.
Dar nodded. "All systems go."
Chelan looked around hers
elf and then exhaled sharply as a five-point restraining system snapped over her, automatically retracting to her body dimensions and hugging her firmly. Chelan gasped.
Dar looked into her bright eyes and grinned. "You can't experience G forces when there is no gravity," he quipped.
"But," she began, "the field under the ship..."
"Different for the cockpit. It's actually an inertial negation system used here, produced by an electromagnetic field. After all, we want the pilot to survive."
Chelan's mind was tumbling through a plethora of questions. "If it's running, why can't I hear anything?"
Fremma answered. "It's simply a baffling system, Chelan. All you would hear if this flew past you is the noise caused by the rapid air displacement, a not-too-insignificant source of sound, mind you. But when the ship is in space or is moving very slowly, it is silent."
Chelan nodded, then changed the subject slightly. "So tell me about the field suspending the ship."
Dar drew in a deep breath. "To begin with, a group of people known as the Telesians would be far better equipped to answer your questions than I. It is not necessary to know machine language to use a computer, nor is it necessary to fully understand the warping of the dimensions of space to know when to employ the field. I am not skirting the issue or your question. I merely point out that even I do not know all. But to answer your question superficially, we supply or direct a force which smoothes, curves, or folds the fabric of space, both with respect to time and dimensions. The ship's systems automatically balance this five-dimensional relationship, compensating for the acceleration due to gravity at all times. The warping is minimized, I might add, so that you and the fighter remain here and in the present."
Chelan was dumbfounded once again. "Warping time? Hang on. I'm so amazed and excited I can hardly breathe." Chelan paused, attempting to sort through Dar's words, but too many questions abounded, and she had no idea where to begin. Then a thought occurred to her. "Within the cockpit, if you remain in this field for long periods of time, you lose bone and muscle mass. With our people, disorientation and nausea are common side effects. Therefore, if the Telesians are so good with gravity-abating technology, why don't they just design the cockpit so that the pilot is always bathed in one G regardless of the outside forces?"
Dar nodded. "A valid point, Chelan. They have done that, and it is used on civilian transports. Only the Imperial fighters and all military transports are designed this way. A continual one-G immersion is logical and desirable, obviously, as you could do away with the complex restraint system and alleviate all the side effects of zero gravity. But the technology around maintaining a constant force of gravity is a lot more complicated than eliminating the field altogether. Also, periodically during tests, the Telesians noticed a slight lag between the sudden G force changes experienced by the fighter and the compensation by the field. Although this lag was measured in microseconds, the G forces on the pilot sometimes reached fatal proportions before the adjustment was made. The lag was momentary but deadly. With civilian ships, they never maneuver so violently or so quickly, so the technology is applied there."
Fremma pulled a switch in the rear cockpit, and the ship shut down. Chelan's restraints automatically withdrew, as did the field.
Chelan took a deep breath as she continued to look around her. "On Earth, we are more or less at a standstill with some aspects of our fighters, such as maneuverability. The jets are so advanced that they can be put into maneuvers where the G forces are so great that the pilots black out momentarily. We call it G-LOC. They wear pressure suits that help to keep the blood from pooling in their legs and lower body, but it is far from adequate. With a highly trained and well-conditioned pilot, we can withstand nine G's, but with difficulty and not for long.
"The ultimate problem actually isn't the temporary blackout, it's the fact that the higher-order brain functions shut down for a period of time after the blackout," she continued. "The pilot is aware of what is going on around him, but he is unable to think clearly or to respond. So we have encountered what we refer to as the biological barrier." Chelan looked up at them both and hesitated, wondering if she was boring them with her obviously inferior technology.
"Actually," interjected Fremma, "we encountered that same barrier centuries ago, as the Telesians gave us such advanced aerospace ships that we, too, suffered the same debilitating effects."
"So what did you do in the meantime, before the electromagnetic antigravity field?"
Dar picked up the conversation. "That's where our genetics came into play. We began combating the problem from a biologic point of view rather than technical one, for it appeared then that the problems associated with the antigravity technology were insurmountable. Breeding men and women who could withstand consecutively greater G forces was the interim solution, and it proved extremely effective until the Telesians came up with the technology."
"So the ability to withstand G forces is no longer a consideration when selecting pilots?" asked Chelan.
"Oh, no," said Fremma. "It's still very important. The fields can malfunction, and the pilots still must manage to maneuver effectively. And also, our forces may yet see the day when our enemies develop some sort of countermeasure for negating our system. We must therefore keep up with the genetic engineering simply as an effective safety net."
Chelan was fascinated, and she paused momentarily, prioritizing her questions. "So what G force can your people withstand?"
Fremma concentrated, remembering Earth's acceleration due to gravity. "About fifteen for a sustained time."
Chelan gasped. "How?" she whispered.
Dar shrugged. "Large blood volume, heavy arteries, heavy muscle mass, more operational brain area, conscious control over blood flow..." He stopped and thought for a moment. "I'm not sure what all is involved," he confessed. "A cumulative combination, I guess. I suppose that maybe it's a combination the Guild is not even aware of. Maybe all they know is that certain bloodlines are producing good pilots. What I do know, though, is that a lot of our training is conducted in rooms in which the gravity is increased. Therefore we work out and move against a greater force than normal. This does increase our muscle mass and bone density. The increased resistance also forces our cardiovascular system to expand. This is done not only for the obvious effect of increasing strength, but it also helps to compensate for losses during space travel. So not all of it is genetic. We do train for it. In fact, for the most part, the acceleration due to gravity maintained on this ship is actually greater than it is on our home planet of Iceanea."
Chelan squinted at Fremma. "So when you were teaching me to throw in Korba's training area, was I struggling against increased pull?"
Fremma smiled. "That is the force you would feel if you were on Iceanea, one which is only slightly more than Earth's. Iceanea is much larger than your world, but it is not nearly as dense. Korba maintains the Command Center at a natural level for ease of movement. I think you would find, though, during his training sessions, as with Dar's, the force of gravity in the workout area would be significantly higher. He can adjust it there as with any area of the ship. While you have been working out, it has been at Iceanean levels."
Dar spoke again. "Ready to come out?" he asked, smiling.
Chelan smiled back as she took another look around the fighter. "I had always wanted to fly our jets," she said quietly. "It had always been my dream."
"What happened?" asked Fremma.
"Our military isn't keen on allowing women to fly the fighters. On Earth, it's a male-dominated domain, and I know a lot of men who think that women are just not emotionally stable enough to handle the demands imposed by war. Most don't even want them on the frontlines, much less behind the controls of multimillion-dollar fighters. Women have been flying various support aircraft in combat zones for years, but I think only about one percent of the pilots flying actual fighters are women." Chelan shrugged. "So since I couldn't fly them," she smiled at Dar, "I decided to design them.
But my promising young career was nipped in the bud by passing aliens."
Both men chuckled at her as Dar took her by the hand and helped her from the cockpit. Once safely on the ground, Fremma retracted the lever on the side of the ship, and its silky, black skin was once again rendered flawless.
Chelan stood still while she looked up at the technological giant, and then she sighed. She turned to Dar. "I think I've seen enough for now," she said pensively.
Dar glanced at Fremma and then proceeded to lead them back through the guards and security zones to the Command Center.
Chelan was quiet while Dar removed his shroud. "Do you wish to continue your tour from here?"
"No, not now," she replied quietly. "I don't want to lose the feeling of being inside the ship. In fact, right now I feel as though I've been torn away from my true home." Chelan glanced at Fremma, her smile disappearing. "If I..." she began, "Someday, if I survive Iceanea and am accepted by your people, do you think that sometime, someone would take me up in one of those?"
Fremma moved to her and tipped her face up to him. "What's this 'if I survive' business?"
Chelan glanced back and forth between the two men. "Don't patronize me," she said quietly. "I know that my odds without your protection are far from good. And I also know that once we reach Iceanea, because of your rank and status, we will go our separate ways."
Fremma and Dar looked at each other, both made uncomfortable by the melancholy in her tone. The uncertainty surrounding her future aside, Dar knew that the breach in security that would be caused by honoring such a request would be nearly insurmountable. "Someday, maybe," came his lame reply.