by Bob Mauldin
Daniels’ first view of a Mamba wasn’t the impressive sight that he had been led to believe it was going to be from the enthusiastic words he had overheard in the various common rooms around the ship, until he got close enough to judge the size of the vessel by the people standing next to it. Then he was impressed. Oh, yes, indeed, he was. This Mamba looked like it was capable of anything just sitting there. Not really prone to flights of fancy, he still couldn’t shake the image of a shark gliding up out of the murky depths to wreak havoc on its prey, and a wholly unreasonable fear shivered up and down his spine.
Sitting near the back of the group, he listened eagerly to a recitation of events from Captain Hawke. She tells a pretty good story, he told himself, as she spoke a little about the construction of Orion, and then went on to tell about the attack on the station, the loss of life, and the heroic actions that saved the station. Then she went on to tell how the Mamba was created to counter the new threat. She talked of their future plans: to build a carrier task force that would carry these powerful little ships to their destination and keep them armed and flying against any opponents. And she talked about the possibility of conflict with alien races. A possibility that was all too believable, considering where he was sitting. And the more he looked at that Mamba, the more he wanted to get his hands on one. With ten years behind him as an Air Force pilot, how could he not?
Daniels stood at the end of the line and patiently waited his turn to take a look into the cockpit of the craft. On a couple of occasions, he saw Captain Hawke looking directly at him. He was finally nearing the front of the line when the Captain appeared in front of him. Pulling her comm link out, Kitty arranged to have Daniels’ tingler turned off. “So you want to see a Mamba? Well, come on. For now, it’s safe to do so.” Ushering him up a ladder on one side of the craft, she ducked under and ran lightly up the ladder on the other side. “Well, what do you think?” she asked.
“It’s not nearly as complicated as I’d have imagined,” Daniels replied. “I flew F-15s for years, and there is a lot more instrumentation on them than I see here.”
Kitty went into instructor mode. “Most of this craft is automated, Agent. The computer is advanced enough that some of the techniques now being developed for fighter pilots on Earth are old hat to this technology. Specifically, after a Mamba gets used to its pilot, it can tell what is needed. That is due to its being able to monitor a pilot’s brainwaves. After an initial shakedown, the computer can associate certain thoughts with certain actions. The only actions that are not under computer control are the weapons. Those require physical actions to perform. But if you wind up with a bogey on your tail, for example, just knowing where it is gives the computer something to work with and it will help to escape, evade, or retaliate, as necessary.”
Continuing, Kitty allowed Daniels to actually sit down in the cockpit. “As you can see, the pilot requirements are such that you need to be a fairly small person. “You’d fit nicely, Agent. This vessel is capable of atmospheric flight. Due to the size of the vanes, we don’t call them wings, the speed has to be rather high. On the order of about half of Mach one, or she loses maneuverability. Anything less than that and we need to add her anti-gravs to the equation. She can hover on her anti-gravity generators for a short while, but that is for emergencies only, or for landings and take-offs. She carries twin high-intensity, rapid-fire pulse lasers, four high-yield anti-matter missiles capable of taking a sizable bite out of most anything they hit, and she has an ECM set-up that works on levels most scientists have only just begun to think about. It amounts to full cloaking ability.”
Kitty stopped for a moment to let the information sink in. She sat on the lip of the cockpit watching Daniels examine the controls. “Her biggest advantages are her speed and maneuverability in space,” she continued. “On rare occasions these ships can get right up to low-warp speeds. Their biggest disadvantage is their range. Which depends on the pilot’s stamina. She can’t negate all the gravitic stress due to her size, but her grav sump manages to offset most of the problem. Also, there isn’t room enough for supplies beyond a few snacks and a water reservoir.”
Ushering the agent back down the ladder, Kitty joined him on the deck. “See, Agent Daniels, I can give some of our weaknesses away. Call it a show of good faith.” Motioning him away from the side of the ship, Kitty tapped her wristband. “Also, Agent, I apologize for that incident earlier. I really thought you would have tested the limits of your leash, so to speak, and until the last second I thought you would stop. Please test it now, so we can make sure it’s back on.” The agent stepped toward the ship slowly until at about thirty feet he stopped. “I feel a mild tingle. Not painful, but not enjoyable, either. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, Agent.” Kitty turned back to her introduction group. “Are there any questions before we end this session?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Simon floated into Orion’s construction information center, which was even now gestating its second child. Every construction project has a Shack. This was one for the books though. Imagine Orion as over two thousand feet long, sitting atop the metal rib-cage of some long-dead titan. Extend the main spine past both ends by nine hundred feet each, add twelve oval “ribs,” and a bottom spine binding the whole together. But this titan had just recently come into being.
The Shack, which Simon had just entered, was a clear blister on top of the main I-beam. Capable of sliding along tracks on the beam or any of the ribs and equipped with automatic shades in the event of Shack could be at the location of a construction problem almost immediately so that the supervisor could make on-the-spot suggestions without having to take the time to get into a pod and go to the trouble spot. Due to its mobile nature, the Shack was not equipped with artificial gravity, so most people tended to stay away unless they were pod jockeys or others who were now used to Zero-G.
Finding Daniel busy with several of the new up-and-coming engineers, trained on Galileo and Orion, Simon stared out of the transparent wall facing the inside of the rib cage. The pounding heart that always accompanied his visits to the Shack was brought on by the dream being born before his eyes. The pounding this time was because the dream was about to become a reality.
The vision before his eyes was of a partially constructed hull: Orion’s second child. Construction pods moved about the slowly growing shape that would be the third ship in the Alliance fleet, sparks of light revealing the locations of pods welding or cutting on different segments of the interior, alien atomic torches illuminating the uncompleted portions in stark, intermittent relief.
When Daniel finally got the two engineers overseeing the installation of a new field generator in the starboard forequarter back to their task, he floated over to Simon. “Today’s the big day, Simon! Don’t you want some kind of ceremony?”
Simon stared avidly out the window. The star field skewed before his eyes as the Shack moved around on the rib cage for a closer inspection of the work area. “There will be a time for ceremony later, Dan. Usually the grand opening comes a bit after the actual event.” Two pod jockeys maneuvered a sizable piece of equipment toward a hole of questionable size. “Is that the new generator?”
“Yeah,” Daniel said sourly enough that Simon looked at him sharply. “Don’t get me wrong, Simon. I’m all for those generators. We just had to do some quick re-engineering to get them and their associated field emitters in place. Fortunately, we only had to tear out part of one section. There are eight of those per ship that size.”
“So that’s why torpedo loads dropped so drastically. I think I’d trade the firepower for the shield any time, though,” Simon said, moving toward the far end of the shack and away from the two engineers.
“I’d think so,” Dan said matter-of-factly. “I’ve still got the hard copy with your signature on it authorizing the installation. But, that’s not why you stopped by, is it?”
Simon positioned himself so that he could see the two e
ngineers supervising the installation of the generator. The slowly moving Shack rotated enough to expose the real reason for Simon’s visit. He nodded in the direction of the white-hulled warship sitting just outside the dock. “Tomorrow that ship is going to be named the TAS Robert A. Heinlein. She’ll have to come back to be retro-fitted with the shield generators, but for now, she is the first symbol of what we are capable of. I like the thought of having things like the shields that the Builders never figured out. Could be a critical advantage when we finally meet up with ‘em.” Simon looked out at the ship as it rotated through his field of view. Daniel could see him come to a decision and reach into a pocket and hand him a computer disk.
It was still easier to have human computers interface with the organic ones of the Galileo-class computers when it came to straight input of information. “Daniel, at this exact moment, only two people know what I have planned for that ship out there. Joanna Barnes helped me write the code on this disk. Actually, it was my idea, and she did all the work. In a few seconds there will be three, and as soon as she is commissioned there will be four. I want this information to stop right there. What I have here is the start-up information for the computer out there. All the access codes, operational information, everything. Plus a few extra lines of code. That ship will be able to access any other ships’ computer and shut it down, either in part or in total, at the captain’s discretion.”
Simon slid the disk under an elastic band to keep it in place. “This one is a little different,” he said, waving a second disk in the air. “It will be used by all other ships for their start-ups, and their commands are that they will accept over-rides from that one,” he said, pointing at the first disk. “The shutdown codes are buried so deeply in the operational codes that I don’t think anybody not specifically looking for them will ever figure out that they’re there.” He laid a hand on the first disk and said, “Call me paranoid, Daniel, but I don’t want someone to get hold of one of our ships and give it to the wrong person.
“And, yes, I know it’s a calculated risk,” Simon went on. “But, if only four people know about it, I believe the risk is minimized. Besides, whoever has command of that ship is someone I’d trust completely, anyway. So. Here is the standard disk,” Simon said, stressing the point. “Put it away, and let’s get her lit up. After we get her on-line, I’ll keep track of the original. I have a copy of the second disk for Gemini, and two more for the new stations as they are finished.”
Daniel looked worried and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know that we need to be that paranoid, Simon, but I do agree that we should err on the side of caution.” He slid the first disk into the transmitter, set up the upload, and turned to Simon. “Do you want the honors?”
Simon waved the request aside. “No, Dan, she’s your baby. You get the privilege of waking her up.” Daniel pressed the send key and sat back to watch the results. About a minute later, the computer spit the disk out, and a screen flashed the message, “Function complete.” Simon stared out the porthole at their first ship as it slowly came alive. He was pleased to see the port-side running light come on and begin a slow, steady, red pulse. Neither of the two men could repress their emotions as they saw lights begin to appear in irregular patterns across the surface of the twelve hundred foot long ship.
Simon asked, “How long before we can go over for an inspection tour?”
Daniel’s reply was slow and deliberate. “Well, we’ve had heaters running over there for two weeks, now. There are components that don’t take well to the cold of space once they get installed. So, I’d say, at a guess, mind you, that we should be able to go ... oh, I don’t know ... how about now?”
Simon gave a chagrined look. “Am I that obvious? Okay, let’s go.”
Daniel opened the airlock door to the Shack, gave instructions to his assistants, and led Simon off to the main habitat. “I thought we’d take a shuttle over. Soon enough we’re going to have to get used to not having Galileo’s transport technology. Actually, we’ve already done that out here. Which suits me just fine. You should start getting used to it, yourself. I don’t know how you people can stand having your molecules scrambled, anyway. I’m always afraid that I’ll go in as Daniel and come out Danielle, or something.”
Nodding assent, Simon asked, “How about meeting me in the shuttle bay in half an hour? I need to pick up a few interested parties.”
Twenty minutes later, Simon arrived with Kitty, Gayle, Stephen and Lucy, to find Daniel waiting with a handful of his engineers. The shuttle door was open so Kitty walked directly aboard and found a seat near the front of the passenger compartment. The rest of the group followed, Simon noticing that the shuttle had been modified to accept more passengers. This one was more in line with what a shuttle should be. Besides, there are others to ferry large components. Next he noticed the pilot. To his shock, it was Commander Lee. “I figured you’d have a fit before you’d fly one of these again,” he commented.
Miranda’s laugh was infectious. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Captain. Even if it means flying one of these crates. Besides, we want only the best when we have such a high-powered group, don’t we?” Her logic was impossible to refute and her wicked grin said as much.
“Very well, Commander,” Simon responded, bowing to the inevitable, “we are in your capable hands.”
Commander Lee brought the shuttle on-line, made sure all of her passengers were belted in and contacted Orion’s Launch Control. “Flight Control, this is Shuttle One ... make that Alliance One, requesting clearance to depart. Destination, ship number one. Shuttle will be under manual control. Advise me of any outside traffic.” Receiving permission from Flight Control to depart, Miranda slowly raised her ship off the deck and slid deftly through the force field and out into space.
Checking her screens to be sure there was no other traffic between her and her destination, Miranda slowly applied power. As they neared the ship, Simon, seated forward with Daniel, said, “Commander Lee, transmit this signal to the new vessel. Open docking bay one. Priority override alpha-star-alpha. Then give us a full fly-by. I’d like to get an over-all view of her exterior.”
Miranda acknowledged her orders, and momentarily reported, “Sir, instruments show docking bay one open and ready for us to access.” She began a slow fly-by of the gleaming white vessel sitting alone in the deeps of space. Simon noted the steady pulse of the red port side light blinking to match the green one to starboard as well as the occasional interior light that illuminated various portholes built into the vessel. The original designs showed none of those, but it had been determined that since humans are the visually based creatures that they are, it would be necessary to have some kind of window on the universe to prevent the claustrophobia that grounded a small but respectable number of people hoping for a position on one of the bases or ships.
Simon noted, and pointed out to Daniel, some of the various features as the shuttle slowly cruised the length and breadth of the new vessel. “I see four torpedo tubes in each octant? Is that correct?” Simon asked.
Daniel nodded and pointed to the forward upper octant. “Each segment is internally independent of the others by virtue of self-sealing section bulkheads, keeping damage to one section from interfering with the operations of the other sections of the ship. You will notice, though, that the eight separate sections that comprise the forward and stern missile bays, are constructed so that the eight forward torpedo rooms are all supplied from one central storage bay. The stern is built the same way so that you actually only have two areas that are storing explosive materials. Not including the engine room, of course.”
The shuttle glided past a replica of the habitat section of Galileo. The original plans called for it, and since the one on Galileo was so popular with most of the crew it was allowed to be left in the design. More important was the addition of the extra power cores in the engine room.
The engineers had, early on in their studies of the basic
plans loaded into the computer’s memory, discovered a bottleneck in the basic design of the ship’s power allocation system. Power taps connected directly to a matter-antimatter core sent power first to the engines then to other parts of the ship depending on the priority of ship situations. Weapons, mostly high-intensity, variable focus, gamma-burst lasers drew their power at a higher priority in battle, thereby leaving less power for the engines. The decision was one of fight or flight.
And now, with the addition of the new shield technology there was going to be the addition of another power-intensive system, adapted from Builder technology, but apparently totally unknown to them. The solution was evident. It took very little extra space over-all to add two more power cores into the engine room. All the controls were already in place to take one core and power one system. Heinlein as the first ship was to be called, would need to return for a refit for the shield generators, but the data on the system arrived in time to allow for the installation and activation of the second and third power cores.
Miranda maneuvered the shuttle through the force field and into the docking bay, coming to rest in the geometric center of the space available. She checked her instruments and announced, “Air and gravity optimal. No lumps bumps or contusions.”
Daniel stood up and made his way back to the hatch. “Well, I told everybody to dress warm. Commander, let us out.”
Daniel turned to face the small crowd staring avidly around the landing bay. “You will notice that we managed to get force screens installed on the landing bay doors, and we are even now working on the plans for how we are going to retro-fit her for her shields.” He led them out of the bay, lecturing as he went, “Each segment is triple-compartmented. Doesn’t mean much normally, but if she should get holed, two major bulkheads seal completely. Like this one here. On each side of the bulkhead is an elevator. And another pair at the other bulkhead. That way, you don’t lose an entire ship to one missile.”
