by Laer Carroll
"I think you could get nearly equal expertise from Jet Propulsion Lab, and for a longer period of time. We've been working with three organizations to design and manufacture space jets on their deep-space exploration vehicles. One project in particular I've been impressed by. Suppose I introduce your engineers to them. I'll still provide general expertise. They will provide specific expertise."
"I'd rather have you listed as the chief engineer. Given your reputation this job would be much easier to sell to our board."
"I'll be happy to be titular head of the project. I'll even meet with your board members. That way you can truthfully say I'm heading up the work. But I cannot spend generous amounts of time on your effort."
The Administrator looked above her head and clasped his hands together, rocking slightly in his ergonomic chair. Finally he nodded.
"I believe that will work."
"On a related matter, as we're going to be up here for several weeks, I'd like to get Klaus, who's our specialist in space construction, to review the design of the station and see if there are some areas that the original designers missed. Or areas that more recent engineering advances have shown a better way."
"Hmm... I think I can get behind that. That would be an additional selling point for the space-jet installation project. That you are so involved with the station."
"Very well. I'll wait for the go-ahead on the main project. Am I right in guessing that we can start on this secondary project right away?"
"You are. I have enough monetary discretion for that. Now, suppose I have our engineering and maintenance staff meet with you. Perhaps this afternoon?"
"Tomorrow morning or later. This afternoon we're scheduled to meet with the Boeing people."
The Administrator stood and reached across his desk to shake hands with Jane and her crew.
"I'm pleased with our progress this morning, Captain. Have a pleasant time with the Boeing people."
"I'm sure I will."
<>
From the Administrator's office they went "down" to the central core then "up" to their residence. There they donned their spacesuits. Then they double-checked each others suits, Kate and Klaus one couple, Nicole and Riku another, and Kate checking Jane. Then they visited the orbital transport office in the zero-gravity center of the station.
"Captain Kuznetsov," said the attendant as they entered the waiting room. "You'll be with Hofstadter. Hey, Andy, your fare is here!"
A small woman in a bright blue spacesuit had been floating in a sitting posture reading something on a vear. She flipped it up atop her head and gently kicked a nearby wall to send her floating to meet the group.
"Captain, I'm Andrea Hofstadter. We met when you came up to complete your last week of astropilot training. And I met Klaus some time later. Come this way."
She turned and led them out of the room down a succession of halls. This ended in a closed metal and composite door with elaborate controls at head height. There was also a large wheel at waist height that had to be spun to secure or unsecure the door. Beyond was an air lock.
She checked that the airlock held air. They went in. Andy repeated the work of checking that the tunnel on the other side of the lock held air, then opened the door and ushered them into the tunnel. After all had exited she closed the door and spun the outside wheel to relock the door behind them.
At the end of the long accordion fold of the tunnel connecting with the awaiting space taxi was yet another air lock, this one built into the taxi. Inside the vehicle Andy led them up a short aisle to the cockpit. Stopping just short of it she turned to Jane.
"Would you like to act as co-pilot, Captain?"
"No. I'd prefer Klaus did that. He needs the experience."
"Right-o. Come on, Lieutenant. Get buckled in and connected to the onboard air. The rest of you, do the same. That way you won't have to use your suit's air."
They all floated to rest in their seats and buckled into them.
Jane closed her eyes and became JANE+Robot+space taxi. SHE checked all HER systems and found HER enlarged body in vibrant good health. The people who attended the space taxis obviously did a good job.
SHE watched as Klaus, monitored by Andy, brought the space taxi up from minimal power to full power, ran quickly but thoroughly through standard diagnostics, then checked with traffic control for exit from the space station on course for the Boeing Research and Manufacturing Facility.
Given approval he cautiously uncoupled the taxi from the space station and slowly exited into clear space. A kilometer out, he checked with Boeing to ensure they were expecting them, and accelerated to three hundred kilometers per hour in the orbitward direction. Warning his passengers, he cut thrust and they floated for fifteen minutes.
Then he began to decelerate to match orbit with Boeing, one of more than a dozen smaller space stations strung out like pearls on a string in front of and behind the World Space Station.
Looking through the taxi's video eyes JANE saw the Boeing facility coming up to them. It looked like a regular collection of long girders cradling several dozen long cylinders with rounded ends. One of those cylinders had a side with a black rectangle open to space. Klaus eased them into it as the interior lit with yellow light. He docked with an access tube and powered the taxi into its at-rest low-energy state.
"We're here," he called over the intercom. "Boeing says they're got somebody waiting just outside to meet us."
Beyond the accordion exit tunnel floated a little woman in a red spacesuit, helmet open and tilted back, who might be of Vietnamese origin. She welcomed them and tapped gloves with Jane.
"If you'll follow me I'll introduce you to our engineering team. We really appreciate getting an outside critique of our projects from someone with such a strong background in engineering and especially in space-jet tech."
As the woman turned away Jane, following her, did not need to see her team to know they exchanged skeptical glances. Engineering groups always said they welcomed overview and always secretly resented it. She'd long ago learned how to couch her criticisms diplomatically and made an effort to educate her crew in the need to do the same.
They sailed down one then a second and a third corridor, periodically touching hand holds, maintaining a local up and down and staying on the right side of the corridor. Every once in a while other station inhabitants passed them going in the opposite direction on the opposite side of the corridor.
The meeting was in a conference room with a double-paned window of "Diamond" glass facing onto a lab area with a door which would open to vacuum. Through it they could see several space-jet engines mounted on long booms which would be extended into clear space where tests would be run on them.
The meeting lasted four hours with a break. Most of the first two hours was spent on the theory of space jets. On this subject Jane was still the world's leading expert. After the break the Boeing engineers returned the favor by talking about the practical side of space-jet design, manufacturing, and operation. In this area they were the experts and Jane and her people the novices.
When the meeting was over their greeter said, "Can we have the pleasure of dinner before you return to the Space Station?"
"Thank you," said Jane. "But we do need to return there. And we also thank you for a very productive meeting. I at least learned a lot." Her crew said much the same.
Everyone rose from their seats, though in zero-gravity this was more a convention rather than actual act, shook hands all around, and exited the room.
Back in the transportation area they were assigned a different taxi driver and shortly were back in the World Space Station.
<>
The next three weeks were more of the same. Jane spent an hour or two each day with the Station Admin's people on their task of designing space jet replacements for the chemical rockets used for station keeping.
She was there, as agreed, more as a symbol than an actual participant. Nevertheless she occasionally gave advice. This was not often as
the Admin people were pretty good. Most of them were on Earth and participated by vears in conference mode in a shared virtual or actual reality.
Most of the work done with Boeing was also in shared reality conference mode, the usual practice the last few years as vears became cheaper and better at displaying reality. At any one time engineers on Earth, the space station, and Boeing's testing facility might be working together, each one "inhabiting" a small drone. They usually stayed at head height to give their wearers the illusion that they were in a real body at whatever location the common work was taking place.
In their off-duty time the crew sampled the entertainment of the space station, especially on the two weekends. They made a number of friends.
Jane attended several of the electronic dance music events, especially one on the two Saturdays which had a video DJ flown up from Thailand who had become a world-famous phenomenon.
She especially enjoyed the "hard trance" music with a strong bottom beat. Sometimes she'd face the side of the dance floor which showed abstract images in time to the music. Other times she faced the opposite side with quick excerpts from dance and action movies. Dancing which was just jumping up and down and doing interesting things with your arms and hands let her zone out and not think. She did entirely too much thinking during the day.
Then she and her "plus four" were invited to a wrap party celebrating the latest of the big Blaze Corrigan action scenes.
<>
It was held in the ballroom of one of Can B's fanciest hotels, the Marriott Skytel. It was catered and had quiet background music. Over two hundred people from the on-camera and behind-camera film crew were there, plus maybe a hundred invitees.
The dress code was "in-your-home informal." Most attendees took full advantage of the code, dressing in jeans and tees and even bathrobes. One woman with a spectacular figure wore a bikini but covered with a translucent flowing shift.
Riku said, "Damn, Cap. You missed your chance to show your stuff."
Jane ignored this silliness. The last year her figure had flowered into definite femininity but she still looked like a teenager. It was just that instead of looking 16 she now looked 18.
Besides, who would look at her when she was in the company of Kate and Nicole? They were tall gorgeous tigresses, the first all gold skin seemingly tanned but actually from her tiny Filipina mother, the second dusky New Orleans Creole with dramatic eyebrows and lashes and ebony hair.
"Look," said Nicole. "There's Blaze." She nodded slightly toward one far corner where the movie star held court. He had a not-quite body-builder's physique and a youthful face despite his 40ish age.
"Gorgeous man," said Kate. "A little too short for me." Her gaze roamed the room. "Now that's more my style. Too bad he's gay."
Klaus grinned at her. "Make a play. Maybe you'll convert him."
Riku said, "What would they talk about? Him, fashion. Her, logistics."
He not-quite-barely avoided Kate's elbow. "Oof. Cap, she was mean to a fellow officer!"
The crew drifted apart, Jane on her own and the guys acting as each other's wing men and the girls each other's "wing women." Soon they had drinks and snacks and had found someone to talk to.
An hour or so later Jane was deep in a discussion of music with one of the sound technicians when the man looked away from Jane. Blaze Corrigan had just arrived at their elbows.
"Hi, Kevin. Who is this beautiful lady you're chatting up? Not stepping out on your wife are you?"
The man grinned back at Corrigan.
"Hi, Champ. Let me introduce you to Captain Jane Kuznetsov. She's in the Air Force and an expert in close-quarters combat. She can kick or cut your balls off if you get fresh with her."
"Heaven's forbid I 'get fresh' with anyone. You know what a perfect gentleman I am."
"Yeah, sure. Good to chat with you, Jane. I'll leave you with him. Watch out for Jase here. He's sneaky."
Jane raised her eyebrows at the man who'd just been left alone with her.
"Jase?"
"My birth name is Jason Blaise-with-an-S Cornfeld. My first agent quickly dropped the Jason and re-spelled my middle name with a Z. My second changed Cornfeld to Corrigan."
"I rather like your original name."
"You mean my stage name sucks. For your information all my credit cards say 'Jason Cornfeld.' Makes it much easier when I check into a hotel. I can modestly tell them I'm always being mistaken for the actor, and am not telling a lie."
"Clever."
"How'd you like my latest film?"
The question, she found out in the next half-hour, was typical of him. He was an almost clichéd actor: self-absorbed and movie-obsessed. He was also charming, likable, and not at all dumb or ill-educated. The last was unsurprising: he'd graduated from Stanford with a business degree. But his real love was acting and he had no opinions on anything else. Nice company, but she wouldn't want a lot of it.
She also didn't find him sexy. He was too young, not only in body but in mind.
Happily she was rescued by a man who was much more to her liking.
"Hey, Jase. Hate to interrupt your chat. But Olga and Davos need your input on something."
"Really? Oh, damn. I suppose I'd better go look them up. Don't go away, Jane. And if you drive through Beverly Hills call me. We'll have dinner or something."
He handed her a business card and hurried away.
The man now in front of her was tall, maybe 50, athletic, and had totally grey hair.
"Thank you, Sir. An actor can be a little...overwhelming. Oh, excuse me. Are you an actor too?"
"No, I'm a producer. Of Jason's latest film, in fact. Who are you?"
She introduced herself to him. He expressed interest in what she was doing on the space station and suggested they refresh their drinks.
Near the drink station was a buffet and, asked if she were hungry, the two of them each ended up with a small faux-ceramic tray with a few food items. They retreated to the indoor patio surrounded by the hotel to eat and drink.
"Amazing illusion, isn't it?" Phil Newman gestured at the scene before the park bench on which they sat. It included several other benches set on winding paths in a garden lit by a fake but convincing full moon in a twilit sky.
"Yes. I wonder if those plants could possibly be real. I wouldn't think so. Bringing up real plants and real dirt would be very expensive. But they certainly look it."
"I'd rather not find out. But they might be. Marriott is finally making a profit with this hotel. But then they own part of the entire space station and it's a going business. Which it will be even more when your air and space jets cut the cost of travel up to here."
They spent almost two hours in each other's company. Jane enjoyed it a lot. As usual she focused her full attention on who she was talking to, wanting to really know them, what they were like as kids, what their jobs were like. Phil Newman had something of the same flattering attention to her.
Plus she thought he was awfully sexy. And he seemed to feel the same way about her.
Finally she had to put an end to their time together that evening.
"I really should circulate some more. My friend Kate tells me I have to learn to spend more time burnishing the Space Force's presence on the Station."
"Yeah. I have a similar function. Two diplomats, that's us. But I really would like to spend more time with you. When you get downside, be sure to look me up. That's my personal phone address on the back."
He handed her a business card and she secreted it away in a pocket. They rose together and turned toward the door into the hotel.
At the entrance he stopped her with a hand on an elbow.
"Good night, Jane. Don't forget me."
He leaned down and lightly kissed her on her lips. Then gently urged her back into the full light of the ballroom.
Chapter 7 - Producer
Two weeks later Jane and her crew were back on the ground. She felt not one ill effect from having been in space for several weeks.
Her crew on the other hand, did. They were not nearly as severe as those of astronauts a decade ago when the International Space Station was still in service and regularly crewed. Those long-time crew members had to stay flat on their back for hours and days on their return from zero G and took weeks to get back to their usual vigor.
Still, for their first week at JPL her crew teetered around their offices and had take-out meals delivered by JPL service people.
Jane did have one problem caused by the trip however. She confided it to her "Aunt Natalie" on the first weekend of her return. Only Natalie, who knew she was an alien, could fully understand.
<>
"More wine?" said Natalie as she added a couple of inches of her favorite chilled white wine to her glass and leaned forward to poise the bottle over Jane's glass.
Jane shook her head and remained slouching in her lawn chair. She took a sip from her glass. She wasn't into alcohol but found Natalie's choice of wine pleasant, just the right combination of sweet and dry.
Natalie's family was having an evening barbecue cook-out in her family's back yard. It was large with a green hedge on its back and sides, a pool, and a cooking area near the pool. Her husband Bob and two sons and daughter were helping out (or in the case of the youngest boy getting in the way). The odor of cooking meat wafted through the big screened windows into the roofed porch that was something of an air lock between the yard and the house.
"So what's up?" Natalie asked Jane. "How are you recovering from several weeks on the space station?"
"I'm fine though my crew is a little wobbly on their feet from the time spent in low gravity. But I met someone up there and wanted to get some advice on dating."
"Oh, Goody! Do tell."
"He's a producer of those Blaze Corrigan action movies and lots other movies. I looked him up on the net and he's branching out into financing Broadway plays. And he has lots of other irons in the entertainment fires."
"Sounds like you might have some interesting conversations. Is there a problem?"
"Several. And I don't know where to start."