Authors: Dain White
“Very well, in that case...” I fiddled with the gravimetric layer of the targeting screen to increase resolution on the track. “Janis, the new gravimetric sensors are incredible. How does this affect your maximum range for our turrets?”
“Sir it compliments them greatly. Our turrets are currently zeroed to a very high level of precision for a 10,000 kilometer range. This provides me with an adequate level of accuracy to provide systems-level targeting
at greatly extended ranges through spatial extrapolation.”
I stared off into the distance for a bit, doing some pretty dodgy ballistic math that would make Gene throw his hands up in disgust.
“Janis, you're talking about at least a million kilometer solution, on a moving target. Are you confident you can service subsystems on that target with accuracy at that range?” As I spoke, I thought long and hard that lives will depend on her walking the walk she was talking – unless she missed completely, in which case, no big deal.
“Absolutely sir
”, she replied as confident as ever. While it seemed like a crazy shot to me, the reality of it was even if she slagged up their ship, missed them entirely, even if she hulled them – what would it matter? Ultimately, the kind of person that would rack up long range torps and just lob them at a target they haven't even identified... they’re really not the kind of person I care much about.
“Very well Janis.
“ I took a breath. “You are approved for fire mission on Master 2 at this time. You are requested to reduce their offensive capabilities to an inoperable condition. If you can do so without loss of life, I would appreciate it – but under no circumstances should they have any offensive capabilities after the conclusion of this evolution.”
I know, I could have just said ‘okay, shoot’ but I wanted something incredibly heroic for our logs to chronicle a galactic-record attempt distance turret shot.
Plus, I wanted to make it completely clear what I considered mission success. The last time I said ‘okay, shoot’, she fired from the hip at moving targets ten-million-plus clicks away.
“
Aye sir, I have provided a focused solution to Yak’s station for review.”
“Looks good to me, sir”, Yak said, though we both knew it looked crazy as a loopy loon in the springtime.
“Very well Janis, you have the conn, and may proceed with fire mission for Master 2.”
“I have the conn, sir.” The stars wheeled across our forward port as she lined us up for her shot. She was orienting the Archaea on a precise waypoint, so she could calculate the ballistics on the turrets. I was having a hard time imagining how many decimal places she was using for this shot.
“Sir, ready to fire.”
“Very well, fire-for-effect.”
The Archaea shuddered momentarily as a salvo of turret fire lanced out into the starry depths ahead of us, the lines of fire seeming to curve slightly as our apparent motion warped their track. Rapidly, she ripped through three salvos, with hardly a pause between them.
“
Fire mission complete, Captain.”
“So what happens now?” Pauli asked.
“Well, at this range, even at kinetic speeds, it’ll be a few more hours until we find out.” I replied. Hopefully Gus had pointed his corvette toward that sector, I felt a bit like I was sending him into a trap.
“Sir, please note that
I am recommending a course change at this time.” Janis said brightly, while a new course pipe lit up on my navigation screen.
“Very well Janis.” I slid it over and took a look through the track. It looked simple enough, a series of lateral burns to starboard in stages up to 45 degrees, as close as we can get to a hard turn to starboard at our current speed, without losing too much velocity.
Seen from above, our course would trace the beginning of the Golden Ratio, the Divine Proportion of ancient Greece, and the rectilinear curve of the chambered nautilus that lives quietly in the depths of the oceans of Earth. I reached out quietly and touched my coffee cup, to make sure it had sufficient resources. I was feeling a little punchy.
With Mars
on approach, it was clear Janis was shaping us for a free-return trajectory, a sort of modified Hohmann transfer orbit. We were going pretty fast, however, and the new burn would push our current velocity significantly higher than Mars could catch. This course looked like a slingshot to me.
“Janis, this course looks pretty sexy.”
“Thank you sir”, she said sweetly.
As sweet as it looked, we were going to be shoving her pretty hard over past one of the more active planets in this system. It wouldn't do to upset the scope jocks at MOC.
“Yak, please file this track with Mars Orbital Control”
“
Filing track, aye”, he replied smartly and leaned into his screens for a moment. “Sir, it's filed, and comes back clear.”
“Very well, Yak
”, I said across the bridge and mashed the 1MC, “All hands, stand by for a short series of maneuvering burns starting in 30 seconds. These will be pretty hot, folks. If you're not sitting down, now would be a good time to do so.” Just to accentuate the point, I honked the collision alarm. I hoped 30 seconds was enough time for Gene to make it out of whatever access hole he was currently cursing my name from.
I hauled the Archaea around to starboard to line us up into the start of the pipe, and watched the numbers fall off the clock.
*****
“Yak, do you know where we're going?” Pauli asked across the aisle, after Captain Smith had stepped aft for yet another refill.
“Well, not really Pauli” I replied. “Our course leads us around Mars, and it looks like he's using Mars to transfer our current heading to a new orbit. Doesn't Janis know?”
“Of course I do, Yak.” Janis said smoothly, while Pauli laughed out loud.
Now, many people think the NDN might not blush, and of course it would be pretty hard to make a Marine blush – but I swear, my cheeks felt hot, like they were going to burn off.
“Janis, my apologies... I wasn't implying that you didn't know – I was asking Pauli if he had already discussed it with you.”
I am usually very confident with women.
Marines learn very quickly, usually by the fifth or sixth skin-tingling slap, how to properly address a member of the opposite sex. I couldn't find my usual suave and debonair self with Janis, however. She continually had me second-guessing myself, stumbling over words, and squirming in my seat like a seventh grader being forced to stand up at a challenging moment.
It's not that she spoke down to me, or put me on my guard, it was more that I couldn't help imagine that she could see through my flint-steel wilt-proof exoskeleton to the scared little boy from Yakima that is still too scared to talk to girls.
“Janis, you're going to ruin poor Yak. He's just a simple Marine, dear”, the captain said, kicking through the bridge with a refill for Pauli.
“Oh dear,” Janis sounded distraught,
“Yak, please accept my apologies. I had no idea you were so… fragile.” Her voice was sultry, contralto, and maddeningly perfect.
Pauli and the Captain laughed as I tried to come up with something to say. I was playing right into their hands, a helpless passeng
er on a bus heading down hill, with Janis at the wheel and firmly in command.
“I am sure I could make you blush, Janis, if I wanted. Then where would you be?” I replied, smiling.
“Yak, I am fluent in every language ever spoken, written, or used by the human race throughout all of recorded human history. I have read and analyzed every word that has been written in any language, have watched and listened to every recording that has ever been made, in any medium throughout history. Do you really think you can make me blush?”
“
I don't think I would take that bet, Janis.” the captain said with a smile. “He's a Marine, dear. He can't lose, that's just not how they're built.”
“Oorah”, I said with a smile. “Janis, I know better. You are a proper lady, ma'am, despite what you may have read. If you had eyes, I would gaze into them, and if you had hands, I would fight to the death
for the chance to hold them.” Pauli whistled appreciatively and an extra-long silence followed.
“Ya
k, I am not sure what to say”, she said, hesitatingly.
I sat there smiling.
If I was back in O-side, I'd be either waiting for a smile, or a free drink served at high velocity to my face. Either way, I was getting my blush, AI or not.
“Janis, are you blushing?” asked the captain with a smile.
“Sir, I am struggling with a response lattice that appears to have congruent, yet diametric nodes. Steven, my response set has a high resonance to indicate pleasure and confusion, and yet these terms are normally exclusive.”
Pauli cleared his throat, looking at me sideways. “Janis, that is perfectly normal, and expected. I believe you are blushing, to the extent you can. It is normal for conflicting emotions and you are right in questioning them. Please formulate a response that quantifies both.”
“I see, thank you Steven”, she said, then after another brief pause added, “Yak, thank you. I suspect you are being a little facetious, but nonetheless, I am deeply touched by your sentiment. If I had hands, I would love for you to hold them.”
I smiled, and basked in the warm glow of conquest. The moment didn't last very long, however.
“If everyone is done making fun of our poor AI, I think it's a good time to do a little bit of work”, the captain said, settling in to the helm station. “We are getting close to our orbital approach of Mars, and I will need all hands on deck shortly. Janis, I have the conn.”
“You have the conn, aye.”
“Captain, do I have enough time to kick aft to the galley?” I asked. My stomach was starting to grumble in four-part harmony, and I was starting to see sandwiches in my targeting console.
“Sure thing Yak, but I need you back here at speed, son. Don't dilly, and definitely don't dally.” he said, swiping through systems screens with an eye on the forward port.
“Will do, sir”, I said, unclipping and stretching. “Pauli, you want a sandwich?”
“Yeah Yak, that'd be great – PB&J?” he asked.
“GET IT YOURSELF!” I roared, making him jump back in his chair. Captain Smith busted out in a deep laugh behind me. I smiled at his look of terror and kicked out of the bridge. I chuckled all the way down the companionway and across the gun deck.
“What's so funny mister?” Jane asked, coming out of ring 1 with her hair messed up and her nap-face still glued on.
I was not at all proud of the chaotic blob of medifoam she had slathered across her temple, but I guess it kept her brains in. That’s the most important part.
“Ah, just having some fun with Pauli. Are you coming on shift?” I asked, as we angled aft across the gun deck.
“Yeah,” she yawned, and stretched like a starfish as she coasted along towards the ladder to her station in weapons control, “I don't feel like I had any sleep though. Two-offs can be brutal sometimes.”
“I hear that, Jane. Do you want me to sneak you a bit of coffee?”
She yawned again and said over her shoulder as she climbed up into her station, “Definitely. Thanks for reminding me why I well and truly love you, Mr. Onebull.”
Her words echoing in my
burning ears, I flicked the coffeepot to see if it was full or empty, and for once in the history of manned spaceflight, it was full. I wasn't worried that it was fresh, on the Archaea; it's always fresh, if it's there. The captain doesn't let coffee sit long enough to get old.
I pulled out the bread and sliced some pieces from the loaf, and got out the peanut butter. One thing we do well around here, besides coffee, is bread. We make our own, the galley has a really nice little breadmaker with a built in mill. The eggs
and milk are powdered, but we load it up with all sorts of good grains, oats, wheat, rice, and other bread-like crunchies, throw some raisins in once in a while. Our galley always smells like fresh coffee, and fresh bread. We're pretty spoiled.
Our preserves and jams are pretty well stocked, and we carry a fair bit of honey and dried fruits as well. The captain is one of those people that a few hundred years ago would have had a pantry full of jars and cans. Everywhere we go, every market, every stop for provisions, he loads up on jams, jelly,
marmalades, and anything else that can be slathered on bread. We stock peanuts, and make peanut butter by the gallon; it's a near-perfect food for null-g.
In no time, I had three PB&Js, a refill of coffee for Captain and Pa
uli, a loaded cup for Jane, the coffee pot working on a new brew, and boosted for the ring ladder.
“Is that fresh coffee brewing, Yak?” Gene asked, coming down the ladder as I was heading up.
“It sure is Gene. Some great bread is up as well, looks like the captain tossed in some dried fruit of some sort, maybe raisins or blueberries.”
He sniffed,
“Smells like huckleberry, Yak, and out of my way son!” He mock-shoved past me and made a mad dash for the huckleberries. I held a sandwich closer for a sniff, and he was right. Huckleberries were a rare treat for a deep space vessel like ours.