by Jim Laughter
The classroom was silent for a moment and then someone began to titter. It spread quickly until everyone was chuckling. Finally, the professor cracked a smile.
“That’s better,” he said. “Let that be your first lesson under my tutelage. Always laugh at my jokes.”
Everyone relaxed.
“Now if you will review your schedule changes, you’ll see the registrar has combined some of your other classes into this one in its expanded form. Credits will be adjusted accordingly. In fact,” he continued, “you may have surmised that you haven’t chosen us, but instead we have chosen you. This is correct,” he finished to the astonishment and consternation of several students.
Delmar and Stan originally expected to be in three different classes that morning. Instead they spent the entire time with Professor Angle getting acquainted with him and the other students because, as the professor put it, “There are enough variables in working with computers without adding the uncertainty of working with people you don’t know.”
When they broke for lunch, most of the class stuck together and ate in the cafeteria. Since Professor Angle let them out later than originally scheduled, the main dining room was mostly empty. The other students on campus were already back in their afternoon classes.
Taking their chances with the synthesizer, Stan and Delmar found that it did pretty well with simple things like stew and other foods designed to have all the ingredients cooked together. Some of their classmates punched in orders for more complicated selections involving separate items. The results could be politely described as interesting.
Exactly one hour after he dismissed them, Professor Angle reconvened the class. More familiar with each other, the group was already showing signs of the unified team they could become.
“Now that we’ve gotten the social aspects of the class out of the way, I want to address how I run this class,” he said. “This class is both lecture and lab, combined with a heavy emphasis on lab. You will be building, repairing, and trying to operate computers,” the professor stated to several chuckles. “I require each of you to be able to design, build, and operate your own computer by the end of the current term.”
Two or three students stirred uncomfortably in their seats.
“To aid you in the process, you’ll get considerable hands-on experience working with existing machines,” the professor continued. “Each of you will be issued a computer to use in your dorm room to aid in your studies. The institute maintenance division will link your computer directly into the main computer here in the lab. Since you’ll have direct access to this computer, there will be no excuse for late assignments.”
The students shifted nervously.
“You will also find that your starmail account has already been established for you. Your starmail account should be easy to remember. It is the first letter of your first name, followed by the first five letters of your last name, followed by a forward sign, the letters gss, which stand for Galactic Starmail Service, a dot, followed by the letters mcti, which stand for Mica Computer Training Institute, a dot, and finally, the letters mi, which stand for Mica.”
Students around the room made hasty notes of their new starmail account addresses. This sounded all too familiar to Stan and Delmar.
“Now,” the professor concluded, “I want to give you a quick tour of the lab. You will follow me, please.”
The students rose and followed Professor Angle through a door at the front of the classroom into the computer lab. Delmar and Stan were not sure what to expect in the lab, but it certainly was not what they saw. There, rising from the floor to the ceiling twenty feet above them, was the front of an antique computer.
“This,” began the professor, “is one of the oldest solid-state computers on Mica.” He paused while he waited for the groans to die out.
“It’s also still operational, and you will have memorized its workings before the term is over,” he said. Every student groaned.
“Don’t underestimate this fine piece of equipment,” the professor admonished. “It may look cumbersome and crude, but it’s still comparable to most machines today. What you’ll learn on this unit will be fully applicable wherever you go.”
“But aren’t its components obsolete?” asked one of the students.
“Technically speaking, yes,” answered the professor. “But we’re not studying components, we’re studying theory. The process by which it operates is almost identical to anything current today.”
Again, he paused and waited for more questions. Satisfied that there weren’t any, he started back toward the classroom, his students in tow.
“In a few minutes, I will dismiss you to tackle your first assignment,” the professor said, not waiting for everyone to be seated. “Momentarily, we will go down to the supply room where you will each be issued a computer for your personal and school use. You will take it to your room and set it up using the instructions provided,” he said as he hefted a sheaf of paper.
“This is to be completed before class begins at eight tomorrow morning. Since you have all had some exposure to computers, I expect that there will be no problems.”
Delmar did not like the sound of that warning.
“Bring notebooks and several good pens to class tomorrow,” the professor continued. “We will be taking an all day tour of the science museum, so either pack a lunch or bring some money. There are no student food dispensers.
∞∞∞
Retired Galactic Axia Trooper Chaplain Jake Sender glanced up from his book as his wife walked into the living room and sat down at their home office computer. Taking the machine out of standby, she checked the status of several systems.
“The mailbox is full,” Sherry Sender said as the monitor displayed their starmail account. “How long has it been since you’ve checked your starmail?”
Still engrossed in his book, Jake only shrugged his shoulders. “It’s usually just bills and religious junk mail anyway,” he lamented defensively. “Why get excited over that?” He tried to concentrate on the fiction book he was reading.
Sherry scrolled down through the list of starmail and highlighted the ones she would send to the printer.
“Hey!” she said brightly as the screen scrolled to the bottom. “Here’s a letter from Agnes and Robert.”
She printed out her selections, then placed the majority of the mail (mostly bills) into her husband’s outstretched hand and sat down in her chair with the letter from the Hassels. Clearing her throat to garner her husband’s attention, Sherry read aloud while Jake put down his book to listen.
Dear Sherry and Jake,
Greetings from our home to yours! By the time you get this, Delmar and Stan should be settling in at the training institute for their advanced computer training. We haven’t received any word yet (it’s too soon) but Robert says that you should be able to find them via the institute directory. I suppose Delmar has no starmail account yet or he would have written by now.
We enjoyed having both of them here, and we were really impressed with Stan. We had a going-away party for them a couple of days before they left and it went great. I noticed that Stan was reluctant to socialize with the young women, so we didn’t press it when I dragged Delmar along to meet a few of local girls. I suspect that Stan is still grieving over the death of his fiancé. Do you think you might be able to help? Delmar said he doesn’t talk about it much.
Well, have fun when you visit the boys, and Robert says to harass them for him. It will be different for them being among the few troopers at a civilian school.
Love, Robert and Agnes
“So the boys finally made it to school,” Jake said after Sherry finished reading the letter.
“Sounds like Stan is having a few problems. When do you want to go visit?”
“Not so fast woman!” Jake exclaimed. With a grunt, he lifted his artificial left leg down from his footstool.
“First, we don’t know where they live, and second, I don’t want to just
drop in unannounced. And third, we don’t even know Stan.”
“And fourth, my love?” asked Sherry sweetly.
“And fourth, my leg is killing me,” Jake answered. “I’ve got to give my assistant more time in the pulpit.”
Sherry reached over and stroked her husband’s hair. “I’ll find their address.” She got up and went over to the comm line to activate the directory. Jake just shook his head and rubbed his leg. He had never been able to slow her down, and he never would.
∞∞∞
With an ear splitting blare, the structural integrity klaxon sounded throughout the control cabin of the Starduster. Akir Asmed, sitting in the control chair, grabbed the controls while at the same time he disengaged the autopilot. The book he was reading on interplanetary exploration and colonization went flying across the cabin.
“George!” Akir hollered as he sought for the kill switch on the klaxon.
“I hear it!” George shouted back. He sprinted forward from the bunk in his cabin and dove for the auxiliary panel, taking in the readings in a glance.
“I’m showing a rupture in the port tank!” Akir shouted when the klaxon finally shut off.
“Confirmed,” replied George from the aux station.
“Captain,” Akir urged, “let me turn command back over to you.”
“No, you stay right where you are,” George ordered. “Throttle us back to the low yellow arc until I can determine our situation.”
“Yes sir,” Akir answered. He raised his right hand and firmly grasped the throttle bar that hung from the ceiling above the control seat. With deft pressure, he throttled the small craft back. The scout ship fell out of light speed and into the low yellow arc, a virtual crawl compared to the high-light velocity they had built up to notch by notch over the last four days. Stars that had previously been only streaks of light were now distant pinpoints in the darkness of space. The small ship shuddered and moaned under the stress of the sudden rupture of the port tank.
“Can I help?” asked Akir.
“You stay put!”
Akir sat in the control chair where he had been the last few hours. He had his right hand on the throttle bar and his left hand firmly on the axis ball. He was exerting every ounce of strength he could to keep the small ship from spinning off into uncharted space. The one thing he did not want to do was spin off course and become lost in space. He had heard of ships, empty ships, found after being lost – ships usually found with evidence of a Red-tail attack. He could only imagine the horrible fates of the hapless crews.
“Suit up!” George called to Akir after checking the environmental control console. “We may loose atmospheric integrity any minute now!”
Akir locked the axis ball with a magnetic clamp and poured himself out of the control seat in a fluid motion. Crossing the cabin to the storage locker, Akir grabbed his clear pressure suit with one hand and tossed George’s across the control room with the other.
Both men jumped into the form-fitting suits. The helmets fit firmly over their heads, the faceplates in their upright positions. Since they still had pressure, the faceplates remained open. Any sudden pressure loss would cause them to snap shut and stay that way until the air pressure equalized and cabin integrity restored.
“We’ve got a problem,” George said to Akir. He tapped the indicator gauges that showed the relative pressure on the port and starboard tanks.
“We’ve lost structural integrity in the port tank, and the starboard tank is trying to compensate,” George reported. “Unless we shut down completely, we’re going to lose both tank systems, which could cause the ship to explode.”
“You mean implode, don’t you, Captain?” Akir asked.
“Implode?”
“Yes sir,” answered Akir. “Our repulsion field would prevent us from exploding, but the resultant pressure of a tank rupture would cause the repulsion field to crush in on us, causing us to implode, sir, not explode.”
“We’ll argue terminology later if we survive this,” George snapped back. “Shut us. I’ll do what I can with the other systems.”
“Yes sir!” Akir agreed, jumping back into the control chair. He released the magnetic clamp from the axis ball and slowly pulled the throttle all the way back to the number one position. Both the speed and the threatening gyrations of the ship decreased noticeably.
“All the way off,” George ordered.
“But sir,” Akir protested. “If we shut off all power, we’ll lose the repulsion field. We’ll be open to being hit by space debris and slag.”
“I know,” George answered. “But if we don’t relieve some of this pressure, we’re going to die anyhow. So what’s your choice, implode or explode?”
Akir rolled his eyes and shook his head. “To tell the truth, neither of those choices really makes me happy,” he complained.
Pulling the throttle full off, he then threw one final switch that cut off the power from the ship’s cold fusion green box. They felt more than heard the repulsion field collapse around the ship as it hung free and defenseless in space.
“Good work, Akir,” George said, almost wiping his brow and then remembering the hazard of the faceplate. “One of us will have to go outside to assess the damage to the tank, so we’re going to lose cabin pressure. We might as well stay suited.”
“I can go outside, sir,” Akir volunteered as he climbed out of the control chair.
“You sure? It’s my ship. You’re not responsible for it.”
“The last time I looked at who was sitting in the command chair, it was me, not you,” Akir answered. “I was driving when it happened, so I’ll be the one to go outside.”
George nodded his head. Now he was sure he liked Akir Asmed, this poor kid from the rim.
“Alright, copilot,” George said. “Then you better get on an extra oxygen tank and magnetic boots. You’ve got work to do.”
“And in the meantime, why don’t you see if you can contact Shalimar and have them standing by with a retrieval ship?” Akir suggested. “We may need it.”
“Good point,” agreed George. He turned to the communications console and keyed his microphone to the emergency broadcast beacon.
“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is Captain George Citti of Galactic Axia fast scout Starduster declaring an in-flight emergency. Does anybody copy? Mayday, Mayday, Mayday.”
The ship had been handling so smoothly for the first four days of their trip from the mothership to Shalimar. Just another day and they would have reached the safety of Shalimar.
George and Akir had been developing a loose friendship, each learning to trust the other with more intimate details of their personal lives. A week was a long time to spend together in close quarters without sharing a few personal points of interest. For example, Akir learned that George (he’d finally become comfortable addressing the captain of the ship by his given name instead of by his rank) was an only child from a prosperous family on one of the industrialized planets, whereas Akir hailed from a poor planet further out on the rim. Economic upheaval had left the planet impoverished, which was one of the main reasons Akir had joined the service.
Akir was happy that his own seven brothers and four sisters back home were still all alive, but the economic burden such a large family placed on the household was sometimes unbearable. The pressure of trying to help support his younger siblings while working for minimum wage was just too much for him. So with the permission and blessing of his father and mother, he had enlisted in the troopers. That had been seven years ago and he had not regretted a single day of it. At least not until now.
On the other hand, George did not flaunt his apparent wealth or social position, something that would be impossible on the caste-conscious planet of Akir’s birth where wealth and position were badges of privilege.
“There’s no middle ground,” Akir had explained to George one day while they were talking. “You’re either rich or you’re poor. Social advancement is through family connections, dowries to purchas
e a bride of suitable status, and the never changing pursuit of wealth.”
“I’m glad it’s not like that in the service,” George said to Akir. “In here, you make it or you don’t, and it all depends on your willingness to succeed and excel.”
“That’s true,” Akir answered. “There are no weights of oppression on our necks. We sink or swim by our own talents.”
And yet here we are working together as a team, George thought as he reflected on all this. Man against an indifferent universe! That’s the real challenge!
∞∞∞
The laws of physics never change. Molecular structure responds to the forces of nature today just as it did eons ago. A fraction of a degree change in temperature and a harmonic vibration due to gravitational differences combine to cause two adjoining molecular surfaces to change their alignment half a micron. Electrons captive in their valence orbiting for countless centuries are free to continue an interrupted game of sub-atomic billiards as inductive energy courses through long-unused conduits. Instantly an inorganic thought takes form.
WHERE AM I? it asked itself as countless circuits start to come on line. Power cascades through them and ancient logic pathways realign themselves. A self-diagnostic program checks the conditions of its internal pathways and notes minor damage in some areas, more serious damage in others. In nanoseconds, repair procedures initiate, creating new pathways around damaged or inoperative parts. Its internal harmony re-established, other programs take over, checking the relationship of the unit with its peripheral equipment.
Disconcertedly, it finds itself severed from its subordinate extensions. A search routine provides no answers, only that the unit is in a foreign environment. Activating circuits and sensory apparatus originally meant only to aid its strangely absent organic attendants, the unit tentatively starts to explore the world around it.
∞∞∞
The hatch opened and Akir Asmed pulled himself out of the airlock into space. As the tether line played out, Akir twisted himself around so he could get a quick overview of the starboard side of Starduster.
