The Unscheduled Mission (16 page)

“Also,” she continued, “it will work against a phaser as well as it does against anything else, but this is the same so-called ‘imperfect stasis’ that kept Van Winkle base more or less intact for two hundred and fifty million years. Once the interior is in stasis, no time is passing in there, so we can’t just put an external sensor outside to tell it when we are no longer under attack. Once again it is a function of how much energy is put into the stasis generator. The walls of Van Winkle came out of stasis for a microsecond every few minutes. I have these tuned to come out to have a look-see once every tenth of a second. If we’re still under attack we go right back under stasis. See?”

“Sounds good,” Arn nodded. “What’s the catch?”

In answer, Ronnie led them into the hanger where a large weapons laser was sitting on a rack. “No, this one is not a phaser,” she told them. “You’ve already seen what happens to a phaser beam in atmosphere and I hate the smell of ozone. But this will show you more vividly and any explanation.” She turned on the laser and a bright green beam shot out at
Phoenix Child
. The ship went slightly silvery instantly and stayed that way. “So long as we are under attack, we’ll also be knocked out, except for one microsecond every tenth of a second. Now this laser,” she flicked off the switch and the ship returned to normal, “isn’t powerful enough to have done any damage in the short amount of time it was on, but even this would eventually eat a hole through the hull during those crucial microseconds. Phasers are generally fired in pulses for maximum power, but they could be retuned to fire continuously, albeit with less power. If some clever boy or girl on an Alliance ship figures that out,
Phoenix Child
will be a sitting duck and all they’ll need is patience.”

“They may not figure that out right away,” Arn conjectured. “I don’t think it will be all that obvious.”

“Don’t be so certain,” Ronnie warned him. “These aren’t stupid people we’re up against. I’m fairly certain that in all this time some of them will have intentionally bred for intelligence. I’m fairly certain their average IQ is at least ten to twenty points over ours.”

“Only ten to twenty?” Park asked.

“Intelligence is an odd thing,” Ronnie shrugged. “It is hard to test reliably and in a non-biased manner. Children can be educated to score better on the tests that determine a so-called intelligence quotient, but that doesn’t mean they are any more intelligent and while some studies have indicated intelligence can be inherited regardless of culture, others have shown that scores can be affected greatly by mood, nutrition, education and what-not. That, plus every ten to twenty years someone else comes along with a whole new battery of tests and adjusted scales.

“And when I say their IQ’s are higher than ours, I mean than the average person of North America in the late Twenty-first Century,” Ronnie continued. “The members of the Van Winkle Project were chosen for intelligence too. So far as I can tell, we’re all at least average even now.”

“Now that you mention it,” Iris considered. “We should be the idiot children of the galaxy by now.”

“Well, I only have the Mer records to go by,” Ronnie told them, “but I think there has always been a prejudice against those species who sought to boost their intelligence and other abilities beyond certain unclearly defined limits. Basically, there is an unwritten rule against creating super men and women. There are hints of some truly horrendous wars over that issue in fact and it has been one of the core tenets of many religions.”

“Beniala, the historian who looks like a mature catgirl, told me about that,” Park recalled. “Thou shalt not create life that is not in God’s image, or something like that.”

“Really?” Ronnie asked. “I should have a chat with her.”

“How do you know all this?” Arn asked her. “I thought you were strictly an engineer.”

“I’m primarily an engineer, yes,” Ronnie retorted, “but I don’t read machine manuals for pleasure. I found this stuff interesting, so that’s what I study in my off time. I do get an hour every three weeks you know,” she added sarcastically.

“How well does the stasis plating work against a gravity cannon?” Park asked, mostly to change the subject.

“It should work as well as against the Alliance X-Ray phasers,” Ronnie replied, “but we’re going to get shoved all over the sky when we get hit. Most likely we can expect to find ourselves tumbling out of control after such a strike.”

“So it will be important to wear our seat belts while at battle stations,” Iris interpreted.

“To say the least,” Park laughed.

Another month passed without incident, during which Marisea’s Atackack students proved they could excel at the spaceship simulators. “If we had enough ships, they could fly as interns on them,” Park told her one evening. “In fact we’re planning to take
Phoenix Child
up tomorrow. Are any of your students ready, do you think?”

“They all are,” Marisea assured him. Cousin was curled up in her lap sleeping, keeping the usually bouncy Mer teen bound to the couch. “How many seats are available?”

“Two, not counting yours,” Park replied.

“I can go?” Marisea asked delightedly.

“You’re their instructor,” Park replied. “I would expect you to supervise. Choose one for weaponry and another to sit beside the pilot.”

“Is Tina piloting again?” she asked.

“No, it’s Paul’s turn this time,” Park replied, “and Garro Tinns will be navigator. You’ll be sitting shifts at Communications and Weaponry, although we’re not expecting trouble, but this will be our first flight with a full crew. Ronnie really wants to take some time tuning the gravity cannons so she’ll be on board with a crew of engineers too.”

“Where are we going and how long a mission?” Marisea asked.

“High orbit and only three days,” Park replied. “I know you have a vacation next week and we won’t leave until after your classes tomorrow, but you’d better pack tonight.”

“Not much notice,” Marisea remarked.

“That was intentional,” Park chuckled. “We need to be able to move even faster than this. Get your stuff on board and in your cabin tonight and then make sure your two choices do the same.”

“Park, how do I choose?” she asked. “They’re all very good.”

“Pick names out of a hat if you must,” Park advised. “We’ll start taking two Atackack cadets every regular mission from now on. Set up a schedule of rotation for them. By this time next year we hope to have four ships and at least one in orbit at all times. They’ll be getting a lot of flight time.”

Marisea found the time to show all her students the interior of
Phoenix Child
the next morning before her own classes and Park arrived to hear the giant ant people clickclacking excitedly among themselves. “I’ve decided that everyone should have something to do with the mission, Park,” Marisea told him. “Wakack and Katatack here will be on board with us, but the others, I’m assigning to cadet positions in mission control.

“Good idea,” Park replied. “And they can run simulations should we have unexpected trouble.”

“Is there a simulator for
Phoenix Child
yet?” Marisea asked.

“Ronnie hasn’t had time to rework the bridge controls completely,” Park admitted, “but the key systems have been programmed into one of the old simulators. And some of her people will be on hand to work with your students.”

The rest of the day dragged on as Park waited for their launch window to open. He
 
planned a trip to the same communications satellite they had repaired a year earlier. It did not really require a visit. It had been functioning perfectly, but comparing the flight there in
Phoenix Child
with the missions in the
Hudson
and
Trenisi
, would, he felt, be valuable to the crew.

Once again his crew was half Human and half Mer and he looked forward to seeing how well the Atackack integrated with them. He had said frequently that the Atackack were equal partners in anything the Humans and Mer did together in space, but this was the first time any of the ant people would actually be leaving the planet.

Any refinements on the stasis plating?” He asked Ronnie when they ran into each other near lunch time.

“I haven’t had time to look into it, Skipper,” she admitted. “Too much time was spent getting the simulator up to snuff. I’m not even sure there is anything better than what we can do already.”

“Maybe we need to rig up some sort of Faraday cage?” Park suggested.

“It wouldn’t make a difference,” Ronnie laughed. “As a matter of fact, it’s a Faraday cage that makes stasis possible at all. Putting another such cage inside the first doesn’t make any difference. Even Van Winkle Base was completely under stasis when the walls around us were. The only difference then was that the scale allowed us to modularize it so each section had its own stasis field. It wasn’t until the first external module failed that it was even possible for us to wake up.”

“Did they all fail at once?” Park asked, wondering why he had never thought to ask before.

“No,” Ronnie shook her head. “Most were still active when we woke up, but opening the doors from section to section automatically turned off stasis in the sections we entered. It had to or else we would have been trapped. If possible, I need to find a way to turn the field back on itself and I’m starting to think it can’t be done.”

“Too bad,” Park commented. “It would be nice to have an indestructible ship.”

“Well, I have two other tricks I’m trying to fit up my sleeve that way,” she told him. “First, I think it might be possible to disrupt a stasis field, so if the
Alliance figures out how to reinvent stasis, we can get past their defenses. The other is a way to project a stasis field remotely.”

“How would that be useful?” Park asked.

“Say one of the
Alliance planet-crushers was coming after us,” Ronnie suggested. “We could force them into stasis, circle around behind them, let them out and send a missile up their butts all at once. The neat trick is that I think it can be added on as a capability of the gravity cannon. Gravitons have no effect on a stasis field, of course. They get bounced off just like anything else, but I think I could use a low-level graviton beam as a carrier of a stasis field. It’s worth looking into in any case.”

Park agreed and went on trying to fill the rest of his day until the launch. Finally he decided to inspect the
bridge
of
Phoenix Child
. He was just sitting down at the master weaponry console when Iris joined him. “And what are you doing there?” she asked curiously.

“As captain, I really ought to be acquainted with every station on the ship,” Park replied, “but I don’t really know what half of these controls do.”

“Well, flipping switches and turning dials is not a good way to learn,” Iris remarked, “but when we get back, I’ll see about putting you through the simulator for this station. You won’t be needed here this trip, however. We have three gunners plus the Atackack cadet. We’re covered.”

“This is the only console I haven’t any experience at,” Park admitted.

“Well no time for lessons now. The crew is starting to board. We lift in just over an hour, you know,” Iris reminded him.

“Finally,” Park let out a sigh of relief. “I’ve been going crazy with trying to keep busy.”

“Hey, Skipper!” Marisea greeted him just then and she hop-stepped on to the bridge. One of the Atackack students was behind her. “This is Katatack. He’ll be in the pilot’s assistant’s chair, or is that co-pilot?”

“Pleased to meet you Katatack,” Park greeted the student, “and I’m not sure, Marisea. The navigator’s console does a lot of co-pilot’s functions, but except for lacking a steering yoke, the assistant’s console duplicates most of the pilot’s controls. I’m not sure what Ronnie and Farn Gerocis had in mind there, but I think redundancy was the key.”

“Who is Farn Gerocis?” Marisea asked.

“Probably the most accomplished Mer spaceship builder,” Iris answered. “I worked with him briefly last year when I was trying to figure out what the laser mounting panel was for. He and Ms. Sheetz worked together on this ship and have added a lot of new features.”

“Okay,” Marisea nodded. “Am I in the gunner’s assistant chair this afternoon?”

“Actually, I’d like you to handle communications during the launch,” Park told her.

“Really?” Marisea asked delightedly.

“Of course,” Park replied. “Garnor Theens will be overseeing you, but he will only step in if necessary.”

“Thank you, Park!” Marisea responded and hop-stepped over briskly to kiss him on the cheek.

One by one and in groups the rest of the crew arrived and found their places. And then it was finally time to launch. Under Paul Gonnes’ capable hands,
Phoenix Child
taxied slowly toward the runway.

“Mission Control,” Marisea called over the radio, “this is
Phoenix Child
, requesting clearance for liftoff.”

“Clearance granted,
Phoenix Child
,” came the instant reply. “You are at T-minus five minutes and holding. Countdown will recommence on your mark.”

“Roger that, Control,” Marisea replied. “Stand by for mark. How was that? she asked her supervisor.

“Not bad for a beginner, kid,” the voice of Mission Control told her, laughing.

“Other than forgetting to switch off your microphone,” Garnore told her dryly as the younger Mer blushed furiously, “you did very well.” Several others around the bridge were chuckling softly as well.

“You may give them the mark,” Park instructed her.

“Control,” Marisea called again. “Commence countdown on my mark please. Mark.”

“T-minus Five minutes and counting,” The voice of Mission Control confirmed.

The countdown continued as Park ran down the final prelaunch list and then just the count reached zero, Paul revved up the engines once more and they started down the runway. The ship built up speed more slowly than her smaller predecessors, but she was still at air speed long before the end of the strip and then suddenly she was aloft and climbing.