Ship's Log

by Lawrence P White

  Moments later he added, “Here’s your lake.”

  She reached down to the bracelet on her ankle and entered a code. As he set up his final approach to the lake, the ship emerged from its resting place beneath the surface and glided up on shore.

  He was in a hurry now and under no illusions, knowing full well that grasping concepts would play only a small role in flying the ship. How could he possibly know which buttons to push when he didn’t even know her language? How would he navigate out in space when he did not have the vaguest notion of celestial mechanics? Our astronauts trained for months and years just to learn a small task, yet here he was, nonchalantly contemplating a trip to the moon with only a few hours of training. This was crazy.

  As he neared shore, he stared humbly through the windshield at the awesome, dark gray shape resting in a clearing. There was no doubt in his mind that he was looking at a true spaceship. Then his stomach turned over in excitement when he remembered it was a starship. What places had it been to? What strange and wonderful things had it experienced? This ship had no horizons, it could go anywhere. He felt pulled in two directions at the same time, one part of him yelling, ‘No, get out of here!’ but another part saying, ‘Yes, yes, hurry up!’

  He barely felt the plane’s floats crunch onto the small beach, so engrossed was he in studying the massive ship. It was identical to Jarl’s as far as he could tell, but from this close, it dwarfed everything around it, even the trees. Arlynn had said these were just small ships, but it was a lot bigger than a jumbo jet. His first impression was that it looked more like a whale than a spaceship. Its wide, flattened nose streamlined into a thick fuselage that tapered to a thick tail with three bulbous fins. The bottom was flat, allowing the ship to sit level on the ground. In a way, it reminded him of one of those sucking, bottom-eating fish he had seen in aquariums—sort of ugly but functional. Despite its huge size, though, he sensed a readiness to spring into action, as if it did not like sitting still. He could easily imagine it visiting other worlds, exploring new planets. As with Jarl’s ship, there were no obvious doors or windows, nor was there a landing gear. The ship rested directly on the ground, or maybe it was hovering just above it.

  “Come on,” Arlynn announced. He helped her down, then he watched in amazement as she limped away on her own. “Hurry, Greg!” she called back to him. “I’ll get things ready inside.”

  He quickly unloaded their supplies, throwing everything to the ground. He stopped, realizing in dismay that he did not need most of it, and threw some of it back up into the cockpit. He just closed the door on the whole mess. He took the time to tie the plane to nearby trees, then he staggered to the ship under his load of sleeping bags, jackets, food, and Arlynn’s bag of stolen secrets.

  He dropped the load against a wall of her control room and looked around in wonder. The ship was coming alive as Arlynn’s fingers danced over buttons and controls. Though he wanted to watch everything she did, his attention kept returning to the front window. The entire front of the control room was transparent. The huge window encompassed a cavernous space at least twenty-five feet long and fifteen feet wide. Through it, he could see the trees, the sky, and even the grass beneath his feet.

  Arlynn, intensely focused on what she was doing, motioned him forward and directed him to sit in the front chair. He walked gingerly over the glass floor and sat down, then jerked in surprise when he felt the seat move. It contoured itself to his body, and he soon felt comfortably secured in place. He lifted his arms and let his fingers brush lightly across fan-shaped armrests crammed full of keys, switches, and controls, all within easy reach. The controls were utterly meaningless to him, blending together into a homogenous mass of . . . stuff.

  Identical chairs with similar armrests were situated close behind his own chair, and directly aft of them, two more chairs, one on each side, faced walls covered with monitors, data entry keyboards, and numerous lights and switches.

  Arlynn got right down to work. The ship lifted, then he saw the clearing just sort of moving away from him as the ship backed up. He felt no sensation of movement other than what his vision told him. His plane slid past, then it grew smaller as the ship left it behind. Without fanfare, the ship settled beneath the surface of the lake and visibility went to just a few feet.

  Then, to his utter amazement, the outside view of water suddenly disappeared. The clearing returned, looking just as it had when he boarded the ship. He turned in his seat and watched as Arlynn, her attention on the front screen, touched a few more keys on the armrest of another seat. When she was done, her gaze shifted to him.

  “What just happened?” he asked.

  “We’re hiding from the Harbok, remember?” she replied. “We’re back in the lake. The water reduces the energy reflections of our drive. I’ve placed the ship in its simulator mode for your training.” When she saw the look of confusion on his face, she added, “Greg, the front of this ship looks like a window, but it’s not really a window. It’s a very large-scale screen with capabilities that are even remarkable to my people. It is one of the most complex pieces of equipment in the ship. You are not looking through the skin of the ship. Everything you see is generated by our computers. Ordinarily, the screen presents whatever is outside, but in the simulator mode, it can present almost anything you ask it to present. I instructed the ship to simulate returning to the clearing. Until we begin our voyage, everything you see will be simulation, but it will appear completely real to you. We use the simulator mode frequently during long trips to keep our skills sharp.”

  Either unaware of the wonder he felt, or choosing to ignore it, Arlynn pressed ahead. “If you’re uncomfortable with the screen, you can pretend you’re looking through optically clear glass, but there are several major benefits to our presentation. Because the view is generated from within the ship, there will be no reflections obstructing your view to the outside, such as there would be if you were looking out your windows at home on a dark night with the room behind you lit up. This becomes very important when you are in the dark of space.”

  “They must be awfully powerful computers,” Greg mumbled, overwhelmed.

  “What you see so far is nothing. They’re still coasting.” Moving on, she asked, “Are you familiar with what is called a ‘Heads-Up Display?’”

  Mentally shifting gears, Greg said, “Yes. Instead of the pilot having to look inside at his instrument panels, certain information such as speed, heading, altitude and targeting data are projected onto the windshield. In the computer games I’ve played, you can see through the information without any difficulty. The information is focused in such a way that the pilot can read it while looking into the distance, meaning he does not have to refocus his eyes to the instrument panel inside the plane. In fact, it requires looking out in the distance to read it. It saves precious moments when you’re busy, and you’re able to keep your vision heads-up rather than having to steal quick glances back inside the cockpit.”

  “Good. We do something similar here. In fact, the screen is your only instrument panel, but it does a lot more. Let me show you.”

  He heard her touching keys on the armrest of one of the seats behind him. When she was done, a number of colored balls appeared out in the distance above the trees, suspended in mid-air. She touched more keys, and faint elliptical lines sprang into view connecting the balls. He immediately recognized the pattern—our solar system. He could see the orbital paths of each planet without strain, and the outside view of the forest and sky was not impaired in the slightest. She touched more keys, and the planets began moving in their orbits.

  “Keep watching, Greg.”

  She touched keys again, and he seemed to zoom up closer to the solar system. Individual moons appeared in their orbits about their planets, each orbital path faintly visible. She zoomed in on Saturn until its rings were evident, then she touched more keys, and its moons started moving rapidly as the planet turned majestically in its orbit.

  “The nose of th
e ship, this screen, is your primary operational display, Greg. We will do many things with our computers, but the results will be displayed on the screen in front of you. You will always be able to see outside your ship as if you were looking through a window, but you will also look outside to see whatever data you’ve instructed the computer to display. The displays are generated within the skin of the ship, so you will never be troubled with reflections. I am now transferring control to your station, and we’ll begin your lessons.”

  “Arlynn, wait a minute,” he said shaking his head and prying himself out of his seat. His gaze took in the intricacies displayed on the forward screen, then he turned to take in the rest of the bridge of this amazing ship. What was he doing here? Was this even possible? He had undertaken challenging and even strange missions in the past, but he had always had the tools to do the job. But now? He suddenly felt overwhelmed. Unconsciously, he shook his head, doubting.

  He felt her arms go around him. He pressed her head to his chest while continuing to look over her head at the bridge. A hand caressing his cheek brought his attention back to her. When he looked into her eyes, he knew she understood.

  “I know how you must feel, Greg,” she said gently, “but hear me. You are not some illiterate savage looking upon a miracle. You can do this. You must do this, for me. My clock is ticking.”

  He took a deep breath and said, “I get that. Thanks for reminding me . . . again.” He looked around hopelessly, feeling like the one small man that he was, completely out of his depth, and thought to himself, “No, Arlynn. You’re wrong. I am an illiterate savage looking upon a miracle.”

  Then he closed his eyes and forced his mind out of apathy and into survival mode. This was not the cockpit that he was used to, but he had to deliver or Arlynn would die. He would not let her die.

  He leaned back from her and took her head in both hands. He kissed her on the forehead and said gruffly, “I mean no offense, but you’re quite a woman, even if you are an alien. We will do this thing.”

  She closed her eyes briefly, seeming to draw power from his words, and said, “As you can see, I am not taking offense.”

  He kissed her forehead and said, “Okay teacher, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Chapter Twelve

  He felt like he had opened a water faucet. “Sit down in the control seat, Greg. Everything in the ship can be controlled from there, except for the StarDrive which can only be operated from this station over here,” she said, pointing to the side-facing seat on the right side aft of the entrance door. “You are at a disadvantage, of course, not knowing my language. Our symbology will be meaningless to you, but we do a lot with visualizations. Your task is not hopeless. Numbers on the keypad are arranged like this . . .”

  Before long, he found himself working with the solar system display, moving his point of reference around, zooming closer to various planets, sectioning off the display and examining portions in expanded detail, even zooming in on the moon and rotating it so he could see all parts of it.

  “Next, we will plot a course from here to the moon,” Arlynn continued. “With this control here, place a marker on our present location. Next, move the locator to the point you want to visit on the moon. Now lock it in place with this command.”

  A bright, red line instantly appeared. It circled part way around the Earth, then lanced out in a graceful curve to the moon, which it circled behind and disappeared.

  “This is the most efficient course,” she explained. “It’s a compromise between the shortest time, which would use a lot of energy, and the least energy, which would take much more time. Would you like to go faster? That’s done like this.”

  Never did she touch a control. Rather, she talked him through the motions step by step, making him review everything until he had it right.

  “Can I write some of this down?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered. “We have no paper on the bridge, and you would not understand our symbology if we used the computer scratchpads. Concentrate. You’re doing well!”

  “Yeah, but we haven’t left the ground yet,” he objected. “I don’t even know where the start button is.”

  “You will know soon enough,” she replied sternly. “Don’t be afraid to make mistakes. If you instruct the ship to do something that is not possible, it will not accept the command when it is entered. If, however – and this is important – if your command is possible to execute but does not fit into certain logic parameters, the execute key will flash when pushed the first time. Pushing it a second time will force the ship to accept the command. Greg,” she said looking deep into his eyes, “in such cases it is always better to check your input again. The ship’s brain consists of several very smart computers. You do not want to do anything the ship considers illogical.”

  He nodded. Of course, he didn’t.

  “By the way,” she continued, “you can use the computers in the planning mode, which we are in now, even when underway, and your course will not be affected unless you tell it to execute. We’ll discuss this again, later. I want you to plan our actual journey now. We are going to the Asteroid Belt. Do you know of it?”

  “Yes . . . No . . . The Asteroid Belt!” he exclaimed. “I thought were going to the moon.”

  “We are going to the Asteroid Belt. My baseship is hiding among the rocks there. Do you know where it is?”

  “I’m going to the Asteroid Belt?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Ah . . . it’s out past Mars, isn’t it? Between Mars and the next planet? You know . . . what’s it called?”

  “Your people call it Jupiter. Here is my baseship.” For the first time, she touched keys. A green blinking square appeared on the windshield. “There,” she announced. “Now I want you to plan our flight.”

  “Just like going to the moon?”

  “Almost. However, we are first going to fly part way around the Earth at low altitude to avoid flying over the Harbok base and their sensors. Instruct the computer to take us to Australia before leaving the planet.”

  "Australia!"

  "Yes, Greg. That is our standard departure from Earth.”

  He rolled his eyes and got to work. Australia almost seemed farther away than the Asteroid Belt. He had been to Australia, and it was a long, long way from here. And now it was just the starting point?

  He first changed the scale of the presentation until only Earth was in the display, then with occasional help from Arlynn, he constructed the remainder of the trip. When he finished, he pushed the enter button. Nothing happened.

  He turned to her with a questioning look. “What did I do wrong?”

  “Nothing. The computer just has to work a little harder on this one.”

  Moments later a gleaming red course line appeared across the Earth and out into space to their destination, but now there was an extra green square near their destination. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing an arm out to the symbol on the forward screen.

  “That’s where the original flashing marker was,” she replied. “It’s where my baseship is located right now. The flashing marker is where it will be when we get there. It’s moving as we move, correct?”

  “Ah . . . yeah . . . sure!” he replied with comprehension. “So, as we get closer, the two markers will merge?”

  “Correct. Now we will select a less energy-reflective course. That will increase the length of our trip, but it will help avoid detection by the Harbok. Also, for the same reason, we will select a south polar departure and travel for about a day and a half directly away from Earth’s south pole before turning on course to my baseship. This will add a lot of distance to the trip because our initial course will be away from my baseship, but it will allow Earth to shield us until we’re out of detection range from their underground base. With any luck, they won’t have any operational ships and will be searching for us only with sensors from there. Make the changes and lock the course in when you’ve finished.”

  A few
minutes later he had a new course line glowing on the screen. The flashing marker was now also farther away from the baseship’s present position.

  “Very good,” Arlynn said, smiling her crooked smile. “That is the course we will fly. The computers will now keep it updated until instructed to execute.”

  “How long will the trip take?”

  “About eight days. Now it’s time for your flying lessons.”

  “Don’t I get a break?”

  “My clock is ticking, and we have a lot more to do. You’ll get a break after we’re underway—a long break, I hope.”

  “Okay, lead on, Lady.”

  “You cannot expect perfection in your ship handling, Greg. We’ve designed the operation of these ships to be as simple as possible, but understanding what you are trying to do and doing it are two very different things. It takes our best pilots many hours to perfect their technique. The difficulties come from trying to make several operating modes interface smoothly. You probably know from your own training that coordinating the various controls in an aircraft is not a natural ability. It is something you learn through practice and mistakes. Much like learning to walk, you will fall down many times along the way. There is no alternative, but talking will get us nowhere.

  “There are four operating modes on this ship. They are 1) Normal, 2) Tactical, 3) Crew Tactical, and 4) StarDrive. Most of our flying is done in the normal mode, and it is this mode which the computer will use to take us to my baseship.

  “We usually command the ship by pushing various buttons, but we also have controls which will seem familiar to you. They are partially a holdover from our early days of atmospheric flight, but they serve an important purpose during certain routine maneuvers even today. On your left armrest is a stick for controlling the attitude, or angle, of the ship. Pushing forward on the stick causes the nose of the ship to go down, pulling back causes the nose to move upward. Similarly, moving the stick left moves the nose to the left and right moves the nose to the right. You always push or pull the nose around with the stick. In the normal mode, the ship will always move in the direction it is pointed. Do you understand so far?”