by M J Kendrick
The Omni board and Jean knew the solution would eventually be found, but, even so, Jean kept the pressure on her department heads and took a proactive interest in their progress, as she knew the phase three human trials would not be far away.
***
David and Jayne were becoming more and more involved with Orbital, which had now been part of Omni for three years. They were on the Research and Development team tasked with finalizing the car specifications and the fabrication of the materials needed for the tether couplings that would join the incredible lengths needed to reach orbit.
David was aware of Orbital’s history of successful launch equipment, and they had, through Jayne, established a close relationship with the farm, which always made them the only logical choice for the tether’s car contract. No one was surprised when Omni acquired them. The government had pushed through the acquisition in record time so that the development of the car could benefit from Omni’s vast resources.
David was happy to be involved with Orbital, and, together, they had completed the first tether contract. Once that was done, Omni had quickly received contracts for four additional tethers from NASA, and the facility had immediately resumed production. Everything was running well—his teams were able to cope, and David was confident that if Omni kept securing contracts as they had done so far, then the plant would continue to perform as expected.
That is, assuming the government gave approval for further contracts.
Jayne had told him that the political pressure from other countries with space programs trying to buy their tethers to form the development of their own sky platforms and space elevator systems had already started to surface. The government was attempting to enforce trade limitations on Omni and show more interest in the farm.
David knew what a space platform meant for a country and would often tell Carlton, who was always asking to go along with him on his next visit to Orbital, especially whenever David spoke to Jean about the wonderful opportunities the space elevator program would bring to the US. Carlton would fantasize with him about how he could launch his spacecraft from there and use Mom’s pods to go to another planet.
Those playful conversations always lasted a long time, with Carlton always finding new questions to ask.
***
David and Carlton were driving back from the airport. It was half term and David had finally agreed to take Carlton with him to Orbital. It had been a long day, even though the flight was only fifty minutes. It had meant an early start.
“How’s the science project going, Spaceman?” asked David.
Carlton perked up, smiling. He liked it when his dad called him by the nickname he’d earned during his first few days at school. Home was still an hour away, and he was feeling sleepy.
“Oh, it’s coming along great, Dad. I’ve used the propellers and motors from my broken drone as stabilizers and made room at the front and back for the main thrust propeller outlets. I’ve still got to find the right motors, but I do have the frame started. It’s going to be balsa and papier-mâché.”
“Won’t that be too weak?” asked David, showing interest.
“Nah, I just mash up the paper and mix it with diluted wood glue instead of just water. It’s really hard when it dries and doesn’t weigh much. Plus, I can shape it, drill it, and machine it.”
David was impressed. “Will you get enough lift? One pound isn’t chicken feed, you know.”
“I know that, Dad, but I reckon if I angle the five stabilizer’s outlets to a more downward angle, they’ll still do their job, and I can steal some extra lift if I need it. Also, if I use two smaller motors to power the main lift propellers, one either side of the hub so that one pushes and the other one pulls and double the voltage, I think I can increase the blade area and pitch to give me enough lift, but I’ve got to try it first.”
“So when do we get to see it?”
“Soon, Dad, soon, I’m still working on the servos and vector angles, plus I’ve run out of glue, so it’s all still in bits.”
David was amazed at the level of technicality Carlton was coming out with. He was really enjoying working on his science project. Listening to his son’s enthusiasm was endearing and a pleasant change from the harsh realities and stresses of his own deadlines. Part of him almost wished he could be Carlton’s brother so they could work on things together, and he could just get back to building things without having to keep thinking about the government watching over his shoulder. He often asked about his son’s science project, mostly because he was as excited about it as Carlton.
“When does it have to be ready by?”
“The last day of finals, the tenth of September. Our last exam is in the morning, so we have to have them ready to mark straight after the lunch break.”
“Aaah,” exclaimed David, “so that’s why your mother wants me to take that day off. Looks like we’ll be there for the big launch, then.”
Carlton grinned.
***
On the day of the finals, David had agreed to meet Jean at lunchtime. Having pestered David to take the day off, she’d found she could only spare the afternoon, so she had to leave home early that day and had been in her lab since 6 a.m.
David had taken the opportunity to sleep in and enjoy a few hours of uninterrupted peace. Neither he nor Jean had seen much of Carlton over the past week, opting to leave him in peace whilst the exams were going on. When Carlton was home, he was either deep in revision or working on the finishing touches to his science project as indicated by the whooshing and whirring noises followed by dull thuds that emanated from his room.
“We still haven’t seen it yet,” said David. He had popped in to say hello to Guy and wait there for Jean.
“He’s keeping it a bit of a secret then,” said Guy. “Jill Townsend over in Advanced Computing said the same about her son Josh’s entry—must be the thing.”
David was looking out of the window across to Rosewood. “There seems to be a lot of people heading over,” he remarked.
“Yes, there’s been a steady stream all morning. I’ve had to restrict the amount of visitors to just Rosewood parents. At one point, I thought everyone wanted to go along, and I’d wager that Carlton was the reason for the high levels of interest. He certainly is very popular around here. There are even a couple of bigwigs floating around from Omni somewhere.”
“Really,” said David.
Just then, Jean breezed through the door. “Sorry I’m a bit late. We were just finishing up one of the pods.”
“Tell me about it later,” said Guy. “You two get off. You don’t want to miss Carlton’s big day.”
They left Guy’s office and hurried across the grounds toward the playing field behind Rosewood.
The field had been roped off into a U-shape, leaving a central area clear, with a main podium in front of the seating stand set in a semicircle to give the judges a good view of the entries. The raised platform had five desks for the examiners, plus two smaller desks off to one side where the two Omni people were sitting.
The anxious parents were crowded along the perimeter, and the place was packed. Finding the last two seats in the stands behind the podium, David and Jean had a great view where they could clearly see Carlton, who was carefully positioning his project on a presentation stand.
There were eight students in the finals, all waiting to have their projects assessed. Each had been given a workbench to display their project and the accompanying research, blueprints, and notes. A side stand had been provided for their tools and bags.
The center of the field where the flight area was had two three-foot circles about thirty feet apart with a fifteen-foot-high rope strung tightly from poles that crisscrossed, providing the required height obstacle.
The first part of the assessment was a close examination of each project, where the students would be asked various questions and method clarifications. Their paperwork would also be studied and collected before the group would move along, studen
t by student.
Carlton was sixth in line.
David and Jean were surprised to see the two Omni people join the group of assessors as they headed for the first student.
“I wonder who those guys are?” asked Jean under her breath.
“Guy said they were from Omni, but I’m not so sure. I thought the assessors were independent and nationally appointed,” replied David.
“Maybe they just want to see how their school is performing first hand,” offered Jean.
“Could be,” said David dismissively. “This looks like it could take a while. I’ll grab us a coffee. There’s refreshments just behind us.”
“That’ll be great,” said Jean, as she pulled her legs to the side so he could squeeze past.
By the time David returned, the group had just finished with the third student, Sean Pitman, and were heading toward student number four. David was holding a paper tray which had two coffees, two hot dogs, and a huge bag of popcorn arranged on it.
Jean couldn’t help but notice his bulging cheeks and the traces of ketchup on the side of his mouth. She looked at him with an accusing frown.
“Mwat?” David mumbled defensively through a mouthful of hot dog, which he had completely stuffed into his face in one go on his way back to Jean.
“That’s a nice example to set,” she said mockingly, shaking her head. “You know you shouldn’t eat that stuff. Where’s mine? Come on now, sit down. They’re nearly at Carlton.”
By the time they had finished their hot dogs and coffees, the assessors had moved to Carlton. Jean could see them asking a lot of questions and pointing to parts of his project while others were leafing through his paperwork. David watched intently. He could see Carlton was giving assertive, lengthy answers. Jean noticed that it was the Omni people that were asking the most questions.
The group moved on.
“Is it my imagination, or were they with Carlton longer than the others?” asked Jean.
“I think you’re right,” he answered. “Let’s hope they liked his project and weren’t pulling it to pieces.”
Jean nodded apprehensively and said, “Fingers crossed.”
Twenty minutes later, the group moved back to take their places on the podium, and after a further fifteen minutes of discussion and papers passing back and forth, they finally called the first student forward.
“Miss Kuypers. Please step forward and begin in your own time,” announced the assessor in the center.
Juliet Kuypers picked up her delicate looking project and headed toward the first circle.
She was marginally the eldest student of the eight, but by far the tallest at five-foot-ten, and although she liked all of the sciences, math was her real love. It was an area that she excelled in, suggesting that she had worked out her project in figures. Whether it would fly would be another story.
Her three-legged machine had no frame as such and was completely exposed.
She had ingeniously used the batteries and the neat wiring to mount the motors and sizeable propellers. The cross bracing was a part of the plastic holding the releasing mechanism that extended down to become the legs. Servos acted as cable guides to package the bulk of the components.
It looked like something from a 1950s science fiction B-movie.
She stepped forward and carefully placed her project in the center of the first circle and spent a moment attaching the one-pound metal block to the underside.
Satisfied, she stepped back and began operating the control box that she had over her shoulder. The machine’s propellers began to rotate slowly as she walked around, peering down to ensure everything was working.
Moving back out of the circle, she remotely powered up. The propeller’s note went from a low hum to a resonating mid-pitched drone, the windblown blades of grass in the circle indicating that a decent amount of downdraft was being produced.
The suspended block swayed as she continued the power increase, until the noise became a high-pitched squeal and the machine strained to become airborne.
Finally, all three legs cleared the ground, and, after a slight sway, it steadily climbed to fifteen feet, where it remained for the required twenty seconds.
By now, the squealing motors were clearly struggling. As Juliet guided her machine toward the second circle, smoke was becoming visible in the downdraft. The machine did, however, make it to the second circle, and Juliet managed to land it and release the block along with the legs and servos. The machine rose sharply and immediately died, having lost half of its components. Miraculously, the machine dropped right side up, just outside the circle, and despite her now burning batteries, Juliet looked pleased it had worked... sort of!
Everyone cheered and clapped, at which point Juliet turned to face the crowd with a huge smile and politely curtsied.
Next up was Nick Johnson, or Nerdy Nick as his classmates called him. Bespectacled and rotund, Nick was a keen remote-control car enthusiast. His entry was expected to perform well.
Although very unexciting to look at, Nick’s box-like machine did indeed perform well and made the hover and drop off look easy, but on landing, his machine also suffered a similar fate to that of Juliet’s as his batteries heavily smoked and melted. They did not, however, catch fire.
After the applause had died down, Sean Pitman was called forward. Sean was the closest thing Rosewood had to an athlete. Lean and muscular, he was always popular with the girls. Sean’s entry was a complex affair with motors and propellers entirely covering its domed appearance. Unfortunately, Sean’s entry barely left the ground when it flew apart in every direction, much to the amusement of the onlookers.
Tanya Smith’s entry started well but released the block halfway through the hover stage, and with its heavy anchor gone, it promptly shot upward at great speed only to disappear from sight.
Josh Townsend’s entry was the only one to use a model aircraft petrol engine for the main thrust. It was loud and unstable but did manage a crude hover. It was difficult to control and began violently bobbing up and down as the engine spluttered, causing the fuel lines to split. The spectacular ball of flame managed to the set the rope alight as it spun wildly out of control.
Once the debris had been cleared and the flames dowsed, it was Carlton’s turn.
David and Jean were now standing, looking transfixed over at their son.
Carlton’s entry was a little larger than that of the others, and it was stunning.
It closely resembled a wider, more rounded version of Captain Galaxy’s spaceship and was beautifully presented in shining silver. No propellers or external means of propulsion were visible, just a series of slatted vents.
The machine looked as though it had been a professional model maker’s life’s work.
“I can see why they spent so long with him, just look at it,” said David.
“Shush,” said Jean, “he’s about to start.”
Carlton walked up to the circle with his entry and carefully placed it right over the block, which fitted neatly into a recess in the base. He moved back from the circle and took up his controls. After a few seconds, a green strobe light on the top of the machine started rapidly flashing, and a whooshing sound could be heard.
Almost immediately, the small craft lifted six feet into the air and statically hovered for a few seconds, then impressively slowly rotated a full circle whilst climbing upward to fifteen feet, to stop its climb in a forward-facing position as it hovered perfectly.
Twenty seconds later, it shot over to the second circle and slowly rotated a full circle on its way downward to come to rest dead in the center.
It immediately shot straight back upward, having neatly deposited the block on the bullseye, to a height of thirty feet, and accelerated around in a wide sweeping arc back to the circle in front of Carlton and descended with two full rotations and came to rest perfectly in the center.
Jean and David immediately began jumping, clapping, and laughing, as did most of the crowd.
&nb
sp; “I knew letting him stay up late to watch all those science-fiction films would pay off,” shouted David above the cheers.
“Way to go, Carlton!” shouted Jean.
It was some time before the noise was low enough to allow the last two to undertake the course.
Andrew Lieberman and Elizabeth Drew both managed successful runs with just a couple of hiccups.
Andrew’s entry couldn’t maintain a hover and seemed to fly up and fall over the course in an arc only to jerkily jump off the block at the end, and Elizabeth had trouble working out her left from her right and her ups and downs, clearly never having flown a remote “anything” before. But she made it in the end to successfully complete the course.
The day, however, very much belonged to Carlton.
***
For the next three weeks, Carlton made a point of religiously checking the mailbox to see if there was any news. He was expecting a letter to appear, addressed to his parents from Rosewood with his exam results.
So far, it had just been the usual bills and stuff that he would leave in neat little piles on the kitchen table for his parents to go through.
During the summer breaks, he would spend entire days working at the labs, alternating between each of his parents from Tuesday to Friday, and would save up the extra allowance he would get on his Saturday morning paydays to put toward his hobby. But today was different. There was a thick brown envelope with an OET logo wedged in the mailbox. Carlton was curious, and he examined the letter. Underneath the logo it read “Omni Educational Trust.” This had to be it!
He quickly gathered his things and cycled over to ACR with the letter securely tucked in the backpack in between the pages of his prized notebook, where he kept a log of all his ideas and hobby notes.
When he entered his mother’s lab, he went straight over to her desk. Carlton had been given his own small desk in the middle of the lab in a vacant spot where he always thought a desk used to be. It made him feel like part of the team.
