Warp Speed

by Travis S. Taylor

  "Everyone please face the rocket, put your right hand over your heart, and raise your beverage with your left!" You can see the big Saturn V from my backyard. Hell, in just about any backyard in Huntsville you can see the big Saturn V.

  I continued, "Please join in THE prayer. Dear Lord . . ." I began. The whole crew joined in, "PLEASE DON'T LET ME SCREW UP!" Of course some of the rather less refined students and faculty didn't say "screw," if you know what I mean. The way I have heard the story neither did Shepard.

  "Amen, brother!"

  "Amen!"

  "Let's eat!" I yelled.

  I noticed Tabitha laughed at the spectacle. She showed up about six-thirty in the evening, just as the grill was getting hot. Rebecca grabbed her and kept her away from me most of the night. She was a big hit. Tabitha didn't do too bad, either.

  Jim came over to me and asked, "She's pretty cool, huh?"

  "Who? Colonel Ames?" I asked. "I guess so."

  Jim furrowed his brow at me.

  "Not her! Oh . . ." He paused and looked back and forth between Tabitha and myself. Then did it again. "Ha! You like her!"

  "Hey, shut up. How many of those have you had anyway?"

  "Beers or burgers? Anson likes the astronaut!"

  "Either. What, are we twelve now?"

  "I know you are but what am I?" He laughed.

  Then it dawned on me. "If you didn't mean Tabitha, who the heck were you talking about?"

  "Never mind! And he's supposed to be the smart one," he muttered sarcastically, pointed his thumb at me, and walked away.

  "Hey, you're not driving home are you?" I halfheartedly scolded to his back.

  Most of the students had left by sometime around eleven, and I was beginning to feel my age and my ribs. So, I decided it would be best to sit in a lounger on the patio, watch the stars, nurse my ribs, and finish off another beer or three. Unfortunately, my bottle was getting low on beer and I was getting low on get-up-and-go. So, I sat there watching for satellites and falling stars. I laughed at the thought of that, a falling star. The cosmology of that being very silly, I corrected myself and started looking for meteors. I heard a whirring from the back part of the yard. My autodome had turned on and the telescope door began to open.

  "Jim must be showing off the observatory," I said to no one in particular as I toasted the autodome with the backwash left in my bottle. It was a great night for it. Astronomy, not backwash.

  Jupiter and Saturn were almost dead overhead. It was so clear. I would've sworn I could see one of Jupiter's moons with unaided eyes. I knew that wasn't what Jim would be looking for since nobody went out to aperture down the telescope. You see, Jim and I built a 3.5 meter Newtonian in a truss style Dobsonian Alt-Az mount. It is completely automated from my PC inside the house and is connected via an ultrawideband wireless local area network. The datalink is about four hundred gigabytes per second. The telescope has two optical paths. One runs to a charge coupled device (CCD) camera and the other to a microminiature spectrophotometer. I wanted one of these all my life but could never afford a glass mirror that large. When the small companies came out with composite very large optics in about '06 I knew it was time to start. The dome cost about two thousand bucks and the wireless LAN and computer system and other electronics were about that each. The primary mirror ran me back about six grand. After about four years of tinkering and adjusting and buying new gadgets one piece at a time, I had about fifteen thousand total in it. Hey, I know guys with golf clubs that cost as much. Heck, my dad has a bass boat that cost him more than twenty-five thousand bucks and it's a mid-range one! Then he built a new garage just for his boat; no telling how much that cost. But, my hobby can actually add real knowledge to mankind.

  In fact, Jim and I found a planet around one of our local stellar neighbors about a year ago. We figured out a very subtle difference in the spatial coherence of the light from the star versus that of a large planet. It basically gave us a Michelson's stellar interferometer with much better resolution. There were some other tricks required, but once Jim and I calculated the right matched filter we could pull a Uranus-sized planet out of the background of its star. Provided that the planet was more than four astronomical units from its sun. So, we were lucky. Our hobby turned out to be of some importance--maybe? If we ever build a warp drive we should go where there are planets. Doesn't that make sense? At least it's fun in the meantime.

  Anyway, I could tell that Jim was driving; the telescope went from one Messier object to another. Jim was putting on a grand tour for someone. He usually does that to show off even though the computer really does it. All a human has to do is hit the On button and run the Messier program.

  I watched the sky and listened to the crickets and the whirring motors of the observatory. The three red flashing lights on the Saturn V rocket caught my eye off to the southeast. Come May the trees would fill out and the rocket would be obstructed from view.

  I was in a peaceful mood--not really contemplative just peaceful. The vision of the whiteboard with the warp equations came to mind.

  Somehow, I thought. We could build the power supply now, even if it does have to be a cube half the size of Alabama. Images of the Borg cubes from Star Trek: The Next Generation came to mind. I found that humorous for some reason. Then a very bright object popped into view traveling from the south to the northwest. I watched for a second or so making up my mind what it was. Just as I was about to decide I was interrupted.

  "There is ISS right on time." Tabitha stretched her neck left then right, and sat down in the lounger beside me. "Here, I thought you might need this." She handed me a fresh beer.

  What a woman! I hope I didn't say that out loud. Instead I hope what I said is, "You scared the living shit out of me!"

  "Sorry. You're missing quite a show in there." She pointed in to the den.

  "Yeah. Well, they are missing the real show out here. Besides, been there . . ."

  "You have a cool place here, Anson." She took a draw from her own bottle. Not sure what it was. Some kind of lemonade thing, I think.

  "Thanks, ma'am! We aim to please. You aim too, please!"

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Sorry. Just a little men's room humor. Don't rightly know where I picked that up, but I've been saying that since I was twelve."

  She smiled, "Oh, I get it. Men!" It was too dark to see it, but I know she shook her head and made that face all women make when discussing men.

  "I can't believe you've actually been there." I half-heartedly pointed at the now fading International Space Station. "Hey, did you guys ever really call it Alpha?"

  "I think the first Russians did," she explained. "But it just wouldn't stick. Not sure if it was political or just not as catchy as 'ISS.'" She laughed. Then with a slightly more commanding tone she began, "You know I never got to talk to you since Goddard."

  "How about that," I said. "You cut the legs out from under a lot of people there. When BPP started, it was seriously peanuts--not even a million bucks a year. Not really even worth the effort, but this is going to set the human race back to stone tools." I like being dramatic. If I thought it would've helped, I would've pissed on a spark plug.

  "Anson, I said it then and I'm saying it now. And I won't say it again! This decision came from far above me. The White House I think. I've actually been trying to determine where the directives came from and have gotten nowhere."

  "Sounds like a conspiracy to me. Elvis and JFK probably did it from Roswell or the Bermuda Triangle!" I said sarcastically and then proudly tugged on my bottle.

  "Look I'm bearing an olive branch here. If you are going to be a smartass, just forget it." I think she was genuinely hurt, or at least pissed.

  "Okay. Sorry. I believe you. So what did you want to tell me?" I tried to smooth it out but I was firing a little early on cylinder number two and cylinder seven was about to seize up. I'm not sure I even had spark plugs in the rest of them. Maybe somebody'd pissed on them.

  "That's just it
. There really is nothing I can do other than apologize. Maybe if you had some real results we could go to the Space Science Subcommittee--"

  "But we do have results! Didn't Rebecca tell you!"

  "Tell me what?" She looked over at me just as the patio torch behind her ran out of oil and sputtered out.

  I was distracted for about four seconds by the spectacular colors the thing produced in its dying upheaval. "We finally have developed a Casimir power source! It would have to be many . . . uh, many, tens of meters on a side, but it would produce a Global Annual Energy Expenditure per second--constantly!" She dropped her bottle.

  "She said nothing about it."

  "That's typical of those two. Hell, Jim and 'Becca did most of the work. You have to come see it! An absolute marvel! Oh yeah, I guess you have seen a few of those haven't you?" It's real easy to forget that you're talking to an astronaut, since they seem just like normal people when you meet them outside their day jobs.

  We talked about the future of my research and how we might continue to finagle funding here and there. Neither of us had any bright ideas. I realized she really did believe in the BPP research and she had nothing to do with budget cuts. The last thing I remember talking about is my crazy lucid dreams and how I knew that we were close to something. I could taste it, I told her. I think she thought I was a little nuts.

  The next thing I knew I was waking up with the sun in my face and Friday licking my left middle finger. Somehow, I had been covered with an afghan from the screened porch sofa.

  I passed out on her again! Damn it. I got up and crawled to the bed and passed out again.

  Later in the day I finally got up and stirred around the house. I managed to wake Jim up as I shut the microwave for about the third time. Leftover cheeseburgers are great hangover medicine once heated up in the microwave. I looked around and noticed that someone had sort of cleaned up. My money was on 'Becca.

  "Lazarus has arisen!" I said as Jim came through the breakfast nook.

  "Arisen, hell!" He wasn't firing on all cylinders yet either or he would've had a snappier come back--he's usually pretty witty. "What time is it?" he asked.

  "Not sure, uh, about twelve-thirty," I replied.

  "We've gotta be at the studio at one!"

  "Dang! I've been forgetting a lot of stuff lately. I think these painkillers are bad on my short-term memory. I'm gonna quit taking them, if I can stand it. We better get our stuff and go."

  We had upper belt tests today at the karate studio. Jim and I, as black belts, had volunteered to help with the testing. The thing I regretted was that I wouldn't get to fight because of my ribs. I had entertained the idea of wearing the rib protector and fighting, but I just hadn't healed enough yet. Besides, it'd only been one week. The doctor said six, but what does that quack know?

  We got there and bowed in just in time. Our school is one of the more fighting oriented and not very traditional. Oh sure, we do the traditional stuff like katas, traditional stances, and an occasional bow, but we don't do all of the "Yes Sensei, No Sensei" junk you see in the movies. In fact, the head instructor Bob is actually a year younger than me and much less disciplined (if that is possible). Bob cuts up worse than most of his students. His wife Alisa keeps him in check, sometimes. But, I have never seen anybody do pushups because they neglected to say, "yes sir" or "no sir" or because they forgot to bow.

  I got my score sheet and began watching and scoring the students. Alisa came over to me.

  "How are you? The ribs?" she whispered and pointed at my side.

  "I'm okay; there's still a lot of pain, but nothing serious. I'll be out for a couple more weeks. I'm gonna try to do pushups by the end of the week. I figure it'll be another couple of weeks before I can do crunches. Might be able to do some katas next week." I was probably lying about any or all of that.

  "I'm sorry." She smiled and went about her business.

  Rebecca finally made it. She bowed and frantically tied her belt. "Why didn't she just stay and come in with us?" I nudged Jim.

  "She didn't have her gi or her pads with her," he replied.

  "'Becca you are late! Stretch real quick and get in line!"

  Bob seemed a little perturbed. I'm surprised she didn't have to do pushups, but test days are a little rushed and frantic. Bob is really just an old softy.

  Finally, after about three physically grueling hours they got to fight. The main goal of our tests is to get you to a point where you feel there's nothing left to do but give up. Then we ask even more of you. This would be the case if someone or some group of people were mugging, raping, or trying to kill you. You never quit. Never!

  Each student had burned at least eleven hundred calories. That is how grueling the test is. Now we were asking them to fight ninety-second rounds. One one-on-one round for each belt earned every three months (up to brown, that's five rounds, then) and one two-on-one fight for each brown belt stripe (three stripes required for a black belt with a test each six months). To test for a black belt there is a three-on-one also. But this was brown belt tests; black belts test separately.

  Now you might think that ninety-second rounds aren't that long. Try running twenty-meter sprints while forgetting to breathe and while people are hitting and kicking the living hell out of you for a minute and a half and then talk to me about it. No, wait a second. First do one hour of aerobics, thirty minutes or so of isometric-type exercises, then do another hour and half of aerobics. Then do six or seven minute and a half rounds as I just described with just one minute in between each. Then we will talk about it! Why do it you ask? Simple, it is fun as the dickens! (Not sure I know what "the dickens" are but to hear my grandma tell it they must have been real fun.)

  Jim geared up and got in the mix. I wanted to get in and play so bad it hurt. But had I gotten in the mix, I'm sure it would have hurt. It was like when you were a kid and your mom wouldn't let you go in swimming for thirty minutes after you ate lunch. All the other kids were out there having a ball and you had to set there twiddling your thumbs. That is how it felt. So, I ref'ed and ran the clock. Bob wanted to fight, too.

  "Bow to your partners, touch gloves, fight." This wasn't the sport karate point stuff. This was a continuous fight for ninety seconds. The only rules are no hitting below the belt and no grabbing. If somebody grabs you, you can throw them. While you are on the ground you are liable to be kicked in the head and if you don't get up you fail the test and have to wait six more months to be promoted to a higher belt.

  Rebecca got set up against Jim and Alisa for her first one. She did pretty good. At one point she did a spinning backfist that caught Jim on side of the head. His mouthpiece flew halfway across the ring. We all laughed appropriately. Alisa didn't let her get away with it though. Although it looks good in the movies, spinning isn't really a good idea when you are fighting two people. It gave Alisa time to slip to her back side and bully up on her.

  Rebecca finally "turtled up" and covered very well and let them hit her for a second or two. Once she got her breath she shoved, kicked, and punched Alisa into Jim, who was punching her in the headgear from behind and around Alisa with big slow looping hook punches. She ran to the other side of the room being chased and punched the whole way. This time she didn't stop running. She turned a long arc and threw a few kicks and punches and ran back the way she had come, fitness really becoming a factor now. The timer beeped.

  "Stop!" I yelled.

  She collapsed on the floor gasping for air.

  Bob smiled as he looked around the room, "'Becca, die over there so we can start the next fight."

  She crawled to the side of the colored-tape marked rings and sat with her back to the wall, gasping for air and sweating profusely.

  "Don't sit still 'Becca! Keep breathing and keep moving. Get you a quick drink of water while you are at it," I told her.

  Jim said something to her inaudible to me. She responded by kicking at his shin. Jim did a quick hopping two-step and decided he had better go get a drin
k of water and leave well enough alone.

  A minute or so later it was Rebecca's time again. This time Bob and Keri (a one stripe brown belt that just wanted to fight another round) fought her. It looked pretty much the same except, Bob is much taller and can hold his ax kick up over his head and drop it at the most inopportune times. 'Becca found this out, the hard way. Defending Keri's attack of multiple kicks, she's kind of limber, 'Becca dropped her guard a little too much for Bob. He drove her to her knees with an ax kick on top of her head. Everyone gasped and paused for a split second to see if Rebecca was okay. She responded from her knees by reverse punching Bob just above the belt as hard as she could.

  I think she was a bit mad. As she scrambled to her feet, Keri decided to give it to her with both barrels. Roundhouse kick to the midsection, hookkick to the head, another roundhouse to the head, she did all this balancing on her right leg and never sat her left foot down. Keri then followed up with a jab, cross, and a ridgehand. 'Becca took all this in stride and never stopped moving. With an amazing display of balance she bobbed and weaved into a spinning side kick and followed with an outer block to stop the ridgehand. By this time Bob had given her enough of a break and poured it on even harder. He raised his ax kick again. This time 'Becca was having none of it.

  She ducked under his leg to avoid the kick and slipped to his back side and reverse punched Bob in the ribs following it with a left hook to the solar plexus and one to the side of the headgear. Of course, Bob wasn't there for the second punch and Keri had slipped to the side of Rebecca. Rebecca must have realized this and threw a real ugly half side kick half front kick. At the same time Bob was throwing a backfist to her headgear, Keri caught Rebecca's foot and pushed her backwards (our rules are that you are allowed to grab on blocks for one second or so). Rebecca was now falling backward with a backfist moving toward her head. Using the momentum of her fall she did a backwards handspring as Bob's backfist passed right through the air where her head had been a fraction of a second before. I'm sure she could see his fist go by her face. 'Becca rolled through the handspring and onto her feet into a traditional back stance with a knife hand outer block (I think by accident, but it looked amazingly cool). She side kicked Bob to hold him off as the timer beeped.