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Nik_SpeakerToCats wrote: ↑Sat Sep 07, 2024 10:24 pm
L
And did you never 're-condition' a cassette audio-tape by winding spools using a pencil stub in a geared hand-drill ??
I didn't have the hand drill, so I just rolled the pencil.
I now have my Grandfather's Yankee Drill. Which I have used twice.
Though hungry, I just stared at my miserable meal for a while before glumly picking at the food. Around me, the other diners showed a similar lack of enthusiasm. Still, with plate slowly cleared, this serving would carry me through to dinner.
I was only back in our suite for a couple of minutes when the screen chimed. I had a video-call from Lt. Richards.
"Mr. Kinson, I'm glad I've caught you ! Thank you for raising that query about suit cartridge regeneration. Until we can reliably replace or re-manufacture, getting optimal performance from our stock is essential.
"Tangential to your 'spin gun' proposal, which is progressing well, I thought you'd like to know that a team is putting together a simple, large bore gas-gun design. An explosive methane-air mix--"
"I should have thought of that," I grumbled.
"You approached the problem from a very different perspective," Lt. Richards allowed. "One of their team hails from 'Fen Country'. After pumping stations, dikes and levees failed during the 'Hot Flu' collapse, much reverted to reed-marsh. Isolated, villagers turned to traditional techniques to harvest the vast flocks of migrating water-fowl. Their loads were improvised 'bird shot', but each of ours will launch a cannister of Third Eng Duvall's 'First Pass' steel shot."
"Large bore ? Marsh ? A 'punt' gun ?" I took a slow breath. "Group several for a 'volley gun' or 'battery' ? Not quite 'Light Artillery', but close: Could you pass along my compliments ?"
"With pleasure, Mr. Kinson." Lt. Richards nodded. "Now to the main subject of this call...
"Provisional plans for 'Hard Suit' training have been over-taken by the sub-optimal results of Fresno's dust clearance tests. In a dozen years, no 'City Class' ship has done this as more than a rare training exercise. The scant documentation suggested these low power settings would be much more effective than they've proven..."
"And you really, really do not want to crank up the power, stress our Field Poles unduly."
"Indeed. We must either repeat the 'Net Down' and clearance procedure several times a day, or slow sooner rather than later.
"After consultation with the Rock Tug crews, we've agreed a Tug should go on ahead with two collection tanks. Load one with blaster-cut lumps, the second with a single, large, ice-sliced wedge. Returning after few days, the lighter 'lumps' may be quickly warmed and off-loaded, so a second run will again have two collection tanks.
"By the time they are filled, returned, Fresno will be nearing the iceteroid, minimising commute time."
"After which, we can glean no faster than the systems can process," I agreed. "So, margin for increasingly realistic 'Hard Suit' training before the next leg of Lt. Svenson's mapping tetrahedron ?"
"Indeed."
"A thought... Anne-Marie told her noisome 'Deputation' that we could easily identify Diner free-loaders if Fresno's Med-Bay could spare the consumables. Which, of course, it can not." I took a careful breath. "I know 'City Class' ships have extensive CCTV coverage for security and damage control: It's a 'Spacer' thing, to save a hazard or walk. These berthing drums are similarly equipped. The pan/tilt/zoom 'traffic control' cameras are obvious, but every display screen is equipped for two-way video calls. And Diner screens have 'line of sight' on the menu consoles...
"As access is logged, time-stamped by the 'Diner' system, would seem trivial to retrospectively cross-match to the CCTV, identify free-loaders thus." I looked Lt. Richards in the eye. "Given you have not obviously 'sanctioned' the perps, you must be playing a longer game. Beyond even 'Crew Selection'?"
Lt. Richards blinked, stayed silent for long, long seconds before asking, "Have you heard of a fictional, 'Pre-Burn' character called 'Sergeant Bilko' ?"
"Uh ? Ah ! 'A scheming, duplicitous, yet highly competent logistics operative' ?" I quoted, sat up, worked through the convoluted logic, nodded, continued, "During peace-time, a 'Mostly Harmless' parasite. But, in-extremis and sufficiently motivated, an essential 'facilitator' ?"
"Indeed." Lt. Richards eloquently tapped his right index finger against his nose. "The accidental Diner access-control flaw let us identify initial and subsequent free-loaders, map their social links. Most Convention citizens are strictly honest. Perhaps too honest for what Fresno may meet ? These outliers' variant mind-set may have its uses..."
After forgetting several characters' names, I've spent too much of this week updating my notes. They fit into one (1) text-file, rather than trying to search multiple files each with a bunch of chapters...
Fortunately, before that, I'd ben able to complete a chapter, make a fair start on another. So, I still have an acceptable editing buffer.
City of Fresno #66
After Lt. Richards closed the video-call, I sat and thought for a while. Given the careful wording, I strongly suspected he'd repeated the canny Gillespies' insightful counsel. That was okay by me. Lt. Richard's ability to promptly consider, accept and action relevant advice, to rapidly adapt to an otherwise 'Out of Context' scenario, was good in many, many ways. Certainly, preferable to most alternatives. This call also gave me another example of the 'Tells' when he did so. That could be useful, I supposed. Anne-Marie would certainly be interested.
I looked around our suite. Though most 'Big Mac' crates were out of sight in the other part, I could clearly picture them. All maintenance was up to date, they were ready to go. A quick check confirmed my flight-bag was ready to be grabbed. There was scant laundry. I'd prefer to wait until my departure schedule was confirmed before doing what little we had.
I'd studied enough basalt weathering for now. I'd certainly covered the basics. Beyond those, much depended on a flow's environment, its precise structural, crystal and chemical composition, plus how small we must crush the stuff. Like it or not, the best use of the rest of my afternoon was yet-another 'Hard Suit' appendix, preferably one that did not spawn open-ended issues.
Customising servo response was definitely a 'sensitive' topic. Default suit settings were generic. Each operator must train, train, train until, like a Power Loader, Rock Grubber, work-pod or air-car, handling was bedded into the subconscious. 'Plan_B' was wary tweaks for what you might call 'Sportiv Handling'. It needed a certain combination of natural talent, intensive training and cold nerve to stay out of trouble. Beyond that lay 'Plan_C', giving optimal performance. This took precise balancing of each joint's 'First Order', 'Second Order', even 'Third Order' servo parameters against operator reflexes, suit configuration, load-out etc etc. Getting all those 'right' usually required a high-end support team. Happens my 'Med' augments sufficed, up-loading an appropriate performance template during each 'Big Mac' boot-phase, then adjusting 'On the Fly'.
As I'd no evidence any-one else aboard Fresno had comparable augments, or even a fraction of my 'Hard Suit' hours, the section could be kept as-is. I gladly flagged it as 'DONE', went on to the next.
Really a collection of application notes, hints and tips, this penultimate appendix explained how to get additional function from 'Hard Suit' instruments. Several such came from my 'Rock Hopper' time. They covered both routine mineral hunting and how I'd found that deposit of 'Prior' debris chunks. Yet, as I'd said, those were but 'Rorschach' teasers. Our 'Rock Hopper' crew studied them up, down and side-ways until our tour ended. Neither we nor subsequent 'Exo-Tech' specialists found the least clue to their relationship, never mind purpose. Worse, like mis-matched ceramic shards repeatedly disturbed by generations of ancient tomb-robbers, their context was long, long lost.
I'd carefully documented how my 'Big Mac' geo-tools could be cross-linked so that, for example, the ranging / sampling laser could be used as a 'command link' or 'designator' for rock grubbing, ice-slicing or 'nudge' charge initiation. Sometimes you wanted a juicy bang, sometimes a precise 'Thumb-Dinger', the pyrotechnic equivalent of a rock-hammer whack, each safely triggered from an appropriate distance. Plus, the rarely discussed but extensive compatibility with 'Mil-Spec' materiel. Yes, the grim reasons dated back to Ed 'Floater' Winters' nocturnal clash with those Anwyc Bio-Raiders. Later, empowered by Tony Winters' enduring wrath after the Autumn debacle, his 'Just Connect' crusade demanded compatibility, compatibility, compatibility.
This now meant anything you might care to hang off a space-suit, work-pod, air-car, shuttle or Rock Tug that had enough 'smarts' to 'play nice' with your systems would probably link. The extent varied, of course. Rock Tuggers' ice-slicer turrets had always been adequate for disabling or downing Anwyc 'Needle Ships'. Tug crews were a tad bemused to get Mil-Spec software updates, with much enhanced tracking, prioritising and targeting algorithms. 'Battle Management' stuff, in fact. Deployed, these efficiently 'Sliced and Diced' Other Strike Fighters and Escorts, even whittled unwary Tagglis to 'Mostly Harmless'. Similar considerations, due long established, near-paranoid contingency planning, meant even work-pods could carry missiles and close-defence lasers. Sleek Aerospace Corvettes could be rapidly teamed with Trojan-class Rock Tug components to give a four-ringed 'Composite Frigate'. Likewise, the still-few Aerospace Frigates plus the bigger Paladin-class Rock Tug components made four-ringed 'Composite Light Cruisers'...
Our Convention had more ships, more materiel such as Fresno's Evac and Berthing Pods, than us civilians had realised. Our logistics mostly had 'Interior Lines of Communication'. And, for the moment, we had significantly better tech. Though no 'Insider', even I could figure counter-measures, counter-counter-measures and so on for several scary iterations. Hopefully, better wits than mine were at work, as our current 'Home Advantage' could yet be over-whelmed by the Others' vast resources.
The Sylvan Alliance warned that our Convention, far, far out on their bitter conflict's flank, for now but a tiny side-show of a distant, minor 'front', had only seen the merest tip of the Others' scary 'Fleets in Being'. When the Others' escalating 'Recon in Force' sweeps suffered disproportionate, nay, catastrophic losses, these had drawn attention to us. Once could have been luck. Twice, 'Fog of War'. Thrice ?
With deep, deep reserves of ships both large and small, the Others had begun to re-position some towards Convention space. Though many older craft had been re-purposed to supplement the astonishing numbers already allocated to 'System Defence', that still left umpteen prior versions of Strike Fighters, Escorts, Tagglis and BMFs. While those were not of the latest standard, grim Military History warns such sheer quantity has a terrible quality of its own...
This appendix, too, could be left as-is. A wary re-read, to be sure, to be sure, then a leisurely visit to the en-suite took me through to the dinner call.
Anne-Marie did not arrive, so my meal was both lonely and un-interesting. Back in our suite, I tackled the final 'Hard Suit' appendix, ominously entitled, 'Rescue Bubbles'. This was mostly copy/pasted from their terse 'User' and 'Service' manuals.
Packed into a 'Carry On' case, a 'Rescue Bubble' unfolded, inflated to a volume similar to our en-suite cubicles, sized and shaped to fit into a standard air-lock. The 'Spacer' equivalent of a solo yachty's small life-raft, one case-face then hinged inwards as a snug 'man-way' hatch. Though, in-extremis, you could squeeze two slim adolescents or several small children aboard, it was probably too small to accept an expostulating 'Mater Harris'. There was a rudimentary life-support system plus local Comms, an RF beacon, a visible strobe, a simple sealing kit, some snacks and 'sachet drinks'. A tiny air-lock was sized to pass, swap an 'air regeneration' cartridge, sealing kit or such. Sundry loops and ports allowed rafting, towing and connection of 'buddy' facilities such as Comms, power and air-lines. There was a small kit of meds, mostly strong anti-vomits, sedatives and pain-killers. Facilities ? Baggies, absorbent pads, wet-wipes: Happens the tiny air-lock would pass them, too...
The recommended use of 'Rescue Bubbles' was to ferry un-suited folk and materiel between secure air-locks, or buy time while pressure-suited 'Damage Control' workers briskly patched holes. Alone, provided you slowed your metabolism promptly, did not panic or inhale vomit / pee, an adult could last almost two days. I'd stretched my 'Rock Hopper' survival training to 58 hours, approaching the 'official' record, before the 'Safety Officer' lost his nerve and fetched me out. Must be said, I needed a full day of bed-rest and fluids to recover.
Beyond 'Useful to Know', the 'Rescue Bubble' information was here because 'Big Mac', having work-pod recycling hardware, could 'buddy' several, even recharge their 'regeneration' cartridges, one at a time. Still, given hyper-velocity impactors and the immensity of space, you'd be very, very lucky to survive the initial mishap and then have timely help arrive...
I read another chapter of volcanic weathering, went back to the beginning of the 'Hard Suit' manual and started over. I'd tested this while training the folk aboard 'Cwm Fahr', I'd had Anne-Marie's input, but grinding through those tail-end appendices might now offer a modified perspective on these earlier sections. They didn't. Still, doing 'Due Diligence' for several hours took me through to familiar foot-steps at the cabin door.
"Hug ?" Anne-Marie pleaded.
When we came up for air, I dared ask, "Trouble ?"
"Not exactly..." She shook her head. "Long, long day. Planted more herbs and garnish. Three trainees did not make the 'Second Tier' cut. They'd given the relevant chapters a superficial reading, tried to wing it. Two had the sense to apologise, so they'll get another chance in a month or so...
"You ?"
I mentioned my air-cartridge regeneration facility survey. Then I told her about Lt. Richards' handling of my free-loader surveillance query. Also, my opinion that his careful reply echoed the canny Gillespies' counsel.
"Wouldn't surprise me," she said. "He's out of his depth, but clever enough to realise it."
"Better than too many alternatives," I ventured.
"That is so true, Jake, it deserves a serious kiss !" Our long, close clinch segued into scattered clothes, a seriously passionate encounter, then squeezing into the en-suite cubicle to clean-up. While I was soaping her back, she mentioned, "Had word about the change in gleaning schedule, Jake: Looks like 'Cooberra' won the toss, you'll go aboard around this time tomorrow..."
The morning brought no 'Ponics alerts. The breakfast menu portions were again, at best, dispiriting.
One of our neighbours dared ask, "Any news on Diner upgrades, A-M ?"
My partner played it straight, replying, "Sorry, still several weeks before the first herbs or garnish are available, even as token amounts. Too many more weeks before the first major harvest can begin to re-build menus. Then, because we must phase cropping and re-planting, a long, slow climb. Jake's first iceteroid glean showed we can get water and fertiliser, but processing to suit the 'Ponics is slow. And, to be honest, we're still at the pilot stage of plantings. Same with the training."
"The MREs ?"
Anne-Marie paled, shuddered. She poked her sad breakfast with the spork, warned, "No better than this. And I swear two of the five varieties are worse. They're 'Famine Relief' food: Need I say more ?"
We'd cleared away and were back in our suite when the next session was called plus, to the familiar expostulations of 'Mater Harris', notification of another test-flight net-down at the now-usual time.
This began with a brief blip. Several minutes later, a much longer thrum followed. Then, to my surprise, Fresno did not revert to an ullage boost, but about half-Lunar braking.
"Interesting..." Anne-Marie allowed as we un-netted. "Jake ?"
"Often better to brake sooner than later," I allowed, studying my Nav augment's modest sensors. "Sigmoid approach widens envelope of options, provides wriggle-room, but...
"Hmm ? Field's not fully compensated ? Ah ! Braking like this, Fresno's pushing dust and gas ahead, rather than taking micro-hits on the facing end-shield between nudges."
"Good. I'll pass the word..."
"What are you doing today ?"
"More training," Anne-Marie reported. "More garnish and herb plantings. You ?"
"I've done as much on basaltic lava weathering as I can without swinging a rock-hammer." I shook my head. "Thought I'd review how the stuff gets to the surface."
"Ha ! Go for it, Jake !"
There were two very different sources of basaltic lava. The first seemed to have deep, deep mantle origins. Though the rising magma 'plume' might collect some crustal contamination along the way, even a few souvenirs, it was easily identified by its 'mostly primordial' elemental and mineral mix plus a whiff of Helium_3. Again, some of that Helium was 'primordial', as old as the planet or rocky moon. Some came from Uranium, Thorium and other radio-isotope decay-chains, and some from slow, cosmic-ray spalling of lithium. Such basalt generally erupted from 'Hot Spots', mid-ocean ridges and as vast, multi-layered 'mega-floods' such as the Siberian Traps. Mars' towering Olympus Mons region was built thus. Like-wise, Lunar Maria formed by regional basaltic up-wellings after ancient mega-impacts, and most younger Venusian Maria from 'stagnant lid' crustal over-turns.
A related form could develop where a subduction zone's 'slab' went shallow rather than deep. After volatiles cooked out, stoking the usual arc of scary silicic volcanoes, the still-hot 'slab' of semi-solid rock that remained would begin to differentiate. A neat analogy was the yucky, slowly coagulating mess of ageing milk or mayonnaise. Its lower-density, more fluid basaltic phase tried to rise as a 'magma blob' through the colder, denser rocks above. If those were too cold or too thick, their weight provided enough pressure to pin the mix in place while it so-slowly cooled, crystallised, 'froze' to a batholith. But, if that pressure was relieved by a passing 'Hot Spot', continental erosion, collision or rifting, anything that allowed some 'Decompression Melting', game on !
Depending on size, age, temperature, composition and the thickness above, either type of rising magma might simply stall to a broad, still-differentiating 'blob' at depth. This could up-lift, 'dome' the surface per Kenyan and Ethiopian Highlands. Sufficient up-lift could yet fracture the surface, allowing more decompression melting. If regional strain-field allowed, this often drove 'Triple Point Rifting' like the Afar region. As the active 'blob' neared the surface, local faults and weak strata would let 'sheets' of basalt intrude horizontally, vertically, even diagonally as oft-massive sills and dykes.
These intrusive sheets' intense heat metamorphosed adjacent rock, significantly altering its chemistry. Even where there was scant or no 'hydrological cycle' or 'water table', they could usually cook enough moisture from local minerals to form some super-heated brine. This then circulated through faults and other weaknesses. Beyond the hot zone, cooling often precipitated dissolved silica as quartz geodes, crystals, seams and veins, along with metal-enriched minerals. Then, a remarkable 'Gotcha': Quartz crystals may be piezo-electric. Tremors from minor earth-quakes, fluctuations in the rocks' stress field from regional tectonics or local sill/dyke intrusions, even day-to-day earth-tides could repeatedly 'work' them. This slowly electro-plated some with metallic minerals or free metals. And, as those conducted better than the base quartz, they formed foci to grow metal-rich crystals and elemental nuggets. No wonder artisanal miners sought such quartz seams !
Now add time, lots of time: Basaltic eruptions usually surfaced as lava lakes, fire-fountains and episodic vent out-pourings rather than silicics' explosions. Still, like throwing water on an oil-fire, meeting enough ground-water could trigger a Phreatomagmatic eruption. These huge steam explosions left low-rimmed craters, up to kilometres-wide, known as Maars. Much like un-related Karst sink-holes, they often developed a shallow lake. Of course, if a ring-fault formed, un-capping a shallow magma chamber and dropping entire caldera roof like a vast piston, result dwarfed a mere 'Plinian' eruption: Be Not There !
Sills emplacing within a shield volcano's broad flanks both steepen the slope and form planes of weakness. Radial and circumferential dykes may 'Wedge & Feather' the edifice like crazy quarry-men. Akin to the re-crystallising, weakened layers within ageing snow that spawn 'slab' avalanches, a cubic-kilometres chunk might then 'escape' along such a plane, its vast slump slip-sliding away. Should this sufficiently un-load, un-cap near-surface magma, a 'Lateral Blast' ensues, like Mount St. Helens on steroids...
Be NOT There.
Locally, super-heated brines often surfaced as hot springs and fumaroles, out-gassing then boiling as pressure fell, depositing sundry stuff hither and yon. Though picturesque, we might have to sacrifice that stark beauty to get at their conveniently concentrated minerals. There was another factor: If the planet was anoxic and lacked other hydrology, we must dam such hot springs to a cascade of pools, seed with extremophile microbes to begin 'natural' oxygenation of the atmosphere...
My merry mineralogical musings took me through to a most un-appealing lunch...
I was part way through that sad meal when Anne-Marie dashed in, followed by a mixed dozen of her colleagues and unfamiliar folk I took to be new trainees. She called, "Ha ! Caught you !"
"Yay !" I stood from my plate, met her for a long, long clinch. "To what do I owe the pleasure ?"
"Cooberra's changed their departure schedule. We'll grab drinks, then haul your crates. Ready ?"
"Yes. Um, sorry, I was going to run a mini-load of laundry, but..."
She glanced at my half-eaten lunch, shook her head. "No, I'll organise a 'Service Wash'. And, Jake, you need to finish your meal. It's not much, I know, but your fast metabolism is eating you alive. Trust me."
I returned a polite nod as the rest of her group drew 'soft' drinks. At Anne-Marie's request, some-one brought us a low-carb 'fruit-flavour' each. Now so watery, and that recycled, these were effectively un-rationed. Should some-one find a way to brew it to wine, beer, 'cider' or even 'cordial', things would surely change.
"How did your basalt geology go ?"
"So-so," I allowed. "We find the makings, I've mapped enough contingencies to hit the ground running."
"You're thinking settlement, terraforming..."
It was not a question. Aware the entire, suddenly silent Diner was hanging on my words, I replied, "Yes. We may find friends, allies, but doing everything ourselves must be an option."
"For which we need a planet's gravity underfoot, near-space to work." She nodded. "Lest we subsist as nomads and itinerant tinkers until Fresno wears out..."
My attempt to reply was smothered by her clinch and a kiss that lasted so long our audience clearly feared air-masks would tumble from the ceiling...
With all cleared away, Anne-Marie led her Ponics' crew plus a growing group of neighbours to our suite. Even with the second cabin's remaining bunks folded back, the bulky combination of 'Big Mac' and 'Agronomy' space-crates still blocked both its twin sinks and the en-suite cubicle. None cared to remark on our good fortune, or muse upon how we'd previously stacked, shoe-horned all into one. With tie-downs progressively released, my crates were hauled out into the corridor. I grabbed my waiting go-bag as our laden convoy set off. A few at a time, we navigated the elevator to this berthing drum's spin axis, negotiated the air-locks' fractional g-braking to the docking leg. Then, as a group, we headed out along the docking leg to the last port. The Coriolis effects of Fresno's slow 'Barbeque Roll' became more apparent at each stage.
My first ice-slicing expedition had been aboard 'Cwm Fahr', crewed by Olwyn and Davyd Jones, their daughter Betrys and Keith Collins. This time, Anne-Marie mentioned, I had Sheila and Bruce Morgan, Betrys, Huw Evans and a Fresno Cadet, their first.
Rock Tug 'Cooberra' had already arrived, docked. Skin-suited Ms. Betrys spotted our convoy's approach on CCTV, cycled through to meet us. She was taken aback when Anne-Marie gave her a big hug, a sisterly kiss. Such social dynamics were too complex for me, but the few women among our porters seem to understand, approve. Again, crate by crate, we passed everything through the conjoined locks, the 'Cooberra' side over-seen by wary Sheila Morgan. Then, with my crates carefully secured in their designated location by a lanky adolescent boy I vaguely remembered as a cricket fielder, Ms. Betrys led Anne-Marie and my porters onto the guided tour.
As the tail of the 'crocodile' departed and silence fell, I again ran practised eyes over my crates' disposition, nodded. Belatedly noticing the nervous boy's overall's new name and rank tabs, I reported, "Well stowed, Cadet Collins."
He relaxed visibly, responded, "Thank you, Dr. Kinson."
"Just 'Jake'," I replied, offering a hand to the boy. "I'm a Geology PhD, not a Medic. You ?"
"Bruce," he admitted. His small hand was a lot stronger than it looked. As was mine. It was a 'Spacer' thing.
"Pleased to meet you, Bruce," I said. "Training on 'Hard Suits' and iceteroids ?"
"Yes, Dr-- Uh, Jake ! I'm Betrys' under-study."
"Non-trivial," I cautioned. "She's scary-bright."
His eyes flickered towards the now-departed tour before he dared meet my gaze, nod, admit, "She is that..."
"So is my Anne-Marie," I agreed, winked. "Happens we've reached an, um, equitable division of responsibilities."
Bruce blushed. Yeah, smitten. Totally smitten. Whether he fully appreciated it or not, Ms. Betrys was a 'Very Important Person' for Fresno's future. She'd soon realise she was one of our few 'super-stars', had the pick of the guys. Or gals, of course. Or both. Earning her respect would be hard. Happens her apprenticeship to my strong-minded Anne-Marie should avert any drift towards 'Entitled Brat'. And, enlistment as a Fresno Cadet offered young Bruce a very respectable career path.
I pretended not to notice Bruce's discomfort, instead turning to the crates. The tour took long enough for me to talk him through their contents. From his wary comments, he'd clearly studied the original, hyper-technical 'Hard Suit' documentation. This had, I suspected, left him some-what over-whelmed. I said, "Since that first glean, Anne-Marie and I have revised and extended the formal manual. Combed out excess jargon. Culled a bunch of potential ambiguities. Made it much more accessible. This time around, I'll be working from our draft, will be very glad of live feed-back. Then, while Fresno is processing batches of comet ice, we'll have time to train operators and support workers on my 'Big Mac' and the Engineers' lower-specification kit.
"Uh, did you see my query about air-cartridge capacity and regeneration ?"
Seems Bruce had, discussing which nicely distracted him until the tour returned. Ms. Betrys supervised the crocodile's progressive lock-through to Fresno. Then, she and Sheila stood back while Anne-Marie and I exchanged wordless farewells. Sure, this time we hoped I'd only be gone for a few days. Still...
After my beloved partner was safely aboard Fresno, 'Cooberra' began the standard un-docking sequence. With the star-ship gently braking, our tangential tug also drifted ahead, so the tree-lit array of variously laden docking legs slowly shrank with distance. It was quite a sight. Before the range opened enough for our ride to leave 'Local Control' authority, the 'Delta-Vee' alert sounded again. Bruce, Sheila, Betrys and I braced ourselves. 'Cooberra' trembled for about thirty seconds. My 'Nav' augments reported this was due to the 'Uncompensated' effects of Fresno's Drive Field. Another alert was followed by a final, gentle lurch. After a while, and a third successive alert, the rock-tug's own Drive awoke and took us ahead at ¼-g. Gathering speed, 'Cooberra' swept past stage after stage of docking legs and their tank-farm pods, the looming, warning emblazoned bulk of the Power Section. the final tank-farm, then the splayed truss girders and frame of the vast stern Shield's wide arc.
With us clear, Fresno's many lights closed to just the outermost, navigation / riding set, like dousing a local Pre-Burn air-field's approach and runway luminaires at 'close of play'.
"Okay, guys," Sheila said, "now it's down to us..."
The big, really annoying 'floater' in my right 'dominant' eye has now been diagnosed as 'rather more serious', a retinal bleed plus macular swelling.
Resolving this will require a course of 'intra-ocular' injections over several months...
Oops...
I have a fair Fresno chapter buffer and, now, a half-typed novella to insert some way along.
But, even using much-enlarged fonts etc, each such treatment may take my 'better' eye off-line for several days at a time.
And reason other eye is 'A Bit Fuzzy' is a mild cataract...
D'uh...
So, for rest of 2024, my Fresno writing / posting rate may be significantly reduced.
Upside, I have not finished with the 'Imperials'...
While Bruce Morgan joined by video-call from the near-by Forward Bridge, Huw Edwards came up from the Aft Bridge, met the rest of us in the tiny galley/kitchen.
"We have Fresno's velocity, Dr. Kinson." Huw explained, after Sheila made the introductions. "Like them, we'll bleed it with 'Uncompensated' braking to sweep dust and grit aside. Based on B's excellent density scans, we're running a proportional approach, should arrive in about thirty hours."
"Thank you," I replied. "But, please, just 'Jake' ? I'm a Geologist, not a Medic.
"At least this time, I'm not starting from 'Utterly Exhausted'. And, suit training will be based on the heavily revised version Anne-Marie and I have since put together. Many of the improvements are based on the excellent feedback from those 'Cwm Fahr' training sessions. Like-wise, your comments and suggestions are very welcome. You'll recognise much of the material from your 'Work Pod' and 'Skin Suit' equivalents, see where and why we've had to expand, elucidate and all that jazz...
"Another factor is that, thanks to 'Cwm Fahr' needing so much extra time to return, I re-qualified for 'Watch Standing'. Sorry, only a 'Limited Ticket', for 'On Passage' duties, but I hope it helps with the roster."
"It will," Sheila agreed. "It certainly will..."
"I'm a trained 'First Aider', and I've done some 'urgent' micro-g surgery. Logged lots of maintenance, 'Damage Control', even basic coding, but most of my space-time has been routine 'Rock Hopping'."
"Kinson... Jake Kinson ?" Huw hesitated, clicked strong fingers. "Ha ! Your team found North Gate's lode of 'Prior' fragments ?"
"Yes." I shrugged. "Four sweaty guys in a 'Deep Space' work-pod with a mini-hab in tow. We spent the rest of the tour trying to figure those lumps. Exo-Techs drew a blank, too."
"Uh," young Bruce ventured, "has anything recognisable been found ?"
"Not even a lost over-glove or star-mangled spanner," I quipped. "As far as I know, just random lumps between fist and head sized, plus the singular 'Silver Snag in Antar's Scarf'--"
"Antar ? Solstice System's gas super-giant ?" Ms. Betrys wondered. "Almost a 'Brown Dwarf' ?"
"Yes, 'Mighty Antar'. Only planet of Autumn's Equinox system's small binary partner, a spicy, 'M'-type flare-star. But, you're exactly right. Even with its fast spin, Antar's barely two Jovian masses shy of the 'Brown Dwarf' threshold. Which would have made that very wide binary a hierarchal ternary. Has a zoo of moons and moonlets, many 'Leading' and 'Trailing' Trojans. The big, dense ring system dwarfs Saturn's...
"And, twinkling in the 'Scarf', the 'Snag', a 'mega-ribbon' of refined nickel-iron. It must have begun as a seriously big coil of strip. Now, shot to hell by five million years of large and small impactors, looks a bit ragged. There's a zillion small scraps and 'tectites' scattered around the 'Scarf,' peppering moons and moonlets. Some even got out to the 'Trojans'. Much, much more must have flashed to plasma or gone down into Antar's deep, turbulent atmosphere. What's left is twenty seven kilometres long, averages almost half a kilometre wide, about six millimetres thick. Mostly holds a radial, 'grav-stable' attitude in the 'Scarf' plane. But, twists and turns, wriggle and writhes due tidal forces from moon-resonances plus Antar's 22º skew magnetic field. Often, 'A Current Flows': There's enough to arc-weld micro-fractures, and Plasma discharges stream from both ragged ends. Jets whip and wave like 'Blaster' beams beyond coherent range. And, yes, they're drawn to Drive Fields..."
"Yeeesh..." Ms. Betrys allowed as the others paled. "Scary, much..."
"True," I stated. "Knocked out a couple of Venturer Two's Scout craft that went to investigate. Rock Tug 'TweedleDee' pulled some serious gees, went into harm's way to rescue them. Skipper Tina Dunleavy and her crew totally earned their 'Copernicus Club' citation."
After a respectful silence, Sheila said, "Before we start on the training, Jake, would you like a bite to eat ? You look famished..."
"I..." I thought about it, admitted, "Please ? I've not long eaten, but..."
"Don't apologise," Sheila stated. "B gets most of her meals here or 'Cwm Fahr' until Fresno's 'Ponics ramp up. And, as a Fresno Cadet, Bruce will eat with the crew. Like the two 'Ponics students, he qualifies for 'enhanced' rations."
"We heard about the Diner hack," Huw mentioned, miming a side-spit. "Wouldn't look good for the young folk or you to be seen getting bigger portions. Even if you need them..."
We soon demolished the delicious pizza-analog and herb tea. After, Ms. Betrys, qualified on 'Hard Suit' training aboard 'Cwm Fahr', took a Bridge 'Dog Watch'. I began by talking the others through the 'familiarisation' basics of 'Big Mac'. Essentially, it was an extended version of the 'Whistle-stop Tour' I'd given young Bruce. Then we got down to business...
