'City of Fresno'

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #16

The 'Ponics team had made good progress. They'd brought this end's second and third mobile 'warehouse ladder' into play, erected two part-rows of framing between them. Each had seven cross-braced riser pairs clamped between deck and 'overheads'. As yet, these rows' first three bays only bore a table-height tray plus bright light panel, whose festoon cables crossed via overhead-clipped catenaries to draw Fresno utility power. The other bays, close-stacked to the top, were still dark. On the well-lit tables, nimble fingers ran mini-assembly lines converting valve and sensor components into assembled and checked modules. The desks had a procession of controllers having their firmware linked, up-loaded to Fresno, scanned, error-checked and archived against their serial number. Anne-Marie and the two young 3-Engs had brought three metre-cube IBCs of granular 'fill' from the 'attic', were discussing its retro 'Look & Feel'. Also, if I was not mistaken, comparing the range of flora available from her 'Library' versus Fresno's 'Garden'.

Just as 'Coffea' made cute Bonsai and, with sundry mineral supplements, provided Coffee, many of Anne-Marie's 'floral border' cell-lines had been cultivated as 'herbs & spices', even 'herbal remedies'. The oft-unpredictable digitalis content of pretty 'Purple Foxglove' had been notorious as an example that 'The Dose Maketh The Poison'. Also, as a Geologist's Geologist, I knew how sensitive many plants were to sub-soil mineralogy. Though my speciality was rocky moons, I'd spent that chunk of childhood with Uncle Jack and Aunt Sue. Long Summer days exploring their mid-Wales locale had taught me to spot oft-subtle surface clues to fault-lines, sills, dykes and other anomalies.

I smiled, tackled the second dormant fusor. Given their various wait-states, I could have done all three concurrently. Such, though, was not wise given their age and unfamiliarity. 'Hasten Warily' was one of the life-lessons I acquired from both Uncle Jack's family and my parents. Their many 'Grim Murphy Tales' instilled hard-learned 'Engineering' caution, oft-bought in 'Blood and Treasure'. From Pre-Burn days came the 'DC_10 Lesson', an aircraft whose cargo-hold's big, outward opening hatch could show 'Secure' when not. Worse, any blow-out's pressure drop bulged a crucial bulkhead, compromised control lines run behind it, turned mishap into mayhem. And, yes, the 'Fukushima Lesson', where an arbitrary cut-off date for repeat events excluded a nearby fishing village's memorial to a dire historical quake, whose tsunami run-up marker stood significantly higher than planned power-station's sea wall...

Finally, I walked back to the third fusor, nearest where we'd begun. More risers, trays and light-panels were in place, plumbing and sensors being connected, further rows begun. Lacking 'assembly line' tables, the latter would be full-rows. Some racking, shelves, were even being drawn from their 'nests' by the midway bulkhead. Looking good !!

The team's demeanour was good, too. Their professionally masked, but underlying haunted looks had been eased by this 'industry'. Yes, we'd only begun the considerable work, but it was running to plan. In due course, there'd be 'candied' seeds sprouted, planted, cropped. Some plants would be sampled for reserve, then 'run to seed' if appropriate. Phased cultivation would secure our 'staples', with herb gardens and hall-way arboretums adding welcome variation.

So far, so good, but there was one factor which Anne-Marie and I had been reluctant to discuss, even in private whispers. The usual 100 metre diameter 'City-Class' spin-drums, either 'Standard' 100 metre length, or the much longer 'Two Truss and a Flange' 'Super-Drums' found on most main-route ships prior to the first 'Other' attack, were more than just 'flying hotels'. Each was a small town, with a neat shopping mall, assorted craft and light-industry work-shops, semi-automated 'Ponic and fish farms, nice market gardens, park-squares, even 'petting zoos'. 'Free Range Poultry' gained new meaning when you saw a mixed flock flapping around a drum's axis in micro-g on orbit, or ¼-g 'underway'.

We'd none of that. These spartan 'Berthing Modules' were intended to get a lot of people to safety. They lacked a City-Class spin-drum's many part-time staff whose side-gigs' facilities provided the 'fun stuff'. I doubted our skeleton crew had any 'edible' animals in their 'garden'. Unless they'd cell-lines we could vat-grow, our meals would be totally vegan.

For excellent reasons, human tissue lines, AKA 'Long Pig', were totally 'Off The Menu'. Beside the medical risk of kuru, 'Mad Cow' or analogous diseases, there were potent ethical considerations. During the global chaos following 'The Burn', there'd been many, many atrocities which made the snow-bound 'Donner Band' travails seem mild. As the early Convention expanded across the globe, incorporating allies, it often encountered reports of cannibalism. Beyond many traditional 'Blood Libels', warily investigated and disproved, accusers required to recant and apologise, there were a surprising number of real cannibal societies. Such ranged from various perverted flavours of 'Christian Rite', via 'Voodoo', 'Satanist' and 'New Aztec' to full-blown 'Slavers' with 'Human Herds' and 'Soylent Stew'. Those who would not abandon, eschew their vile, but now-traditional ways died. By sniper, suicide and/or formal execution, without exception, they all perished, their settlements razed, salted, shunned.

The Convention also dealt robustly with sundry troublesome 'Hill Tribes' and 'Local Warlords'. Took a while for some such to realise, accept that they were not facing a classic 'Colonial' authority. The Convention was not easy to out-wit, hampered by milquetoast, oft-contradictory 'Rules of Engagement' or prone to atrocity that could be leveraged. No, this was more like the 'Old West', with 'Special Conveners' instead of US Marshals, Texas Rangers or '00' Agents, but the same ruthless remit.

Despite one Unquiet Stan's 'free passage' agreement, an uppity 'Hill Tribe' took a roving medical team hostage. After a few days, a small aircraft dropped a streamer-slowed can with a terse request in many languages for the team's immediate, un-harmed release. No go. A few days later, another can, an identical request. No go. A week passed before villagers were startled by distant bangs, rumblings and crashes they feared was the onset of an earthquake. Calm returned. Then their turbulent river shrank to a muddy stream. Scouts returned with grim news that, some miles up-stream, a vast avalanche had blocked the valley floor. And, behind this temporary rock dam, the water level was rising...

WTF ?? A third air-drop said that, if released immediately, safe and well, the hostages could request clemency for the villagers. Though now too late for the fertile bottom-lands and 'Lower Village', at least the 'Upper Village' would survive. Else, look around. Looming cliffs and scars from historical land-slides spoke louder than words, sufficed. The medics and most of the villagers hiked out before the rock-dam over-topped, eroded, progressively failed, unleashing a flood which devastated the valley floor. Thus humbled and further impoverished, that 'Hill Tribe' became an object lesson: Not even the now-legendary Roosians had dropped mountain-sides on their foes...

[jemhouston]

Lesson like that you only need to do once or twice as long as the word gets around. Nice foreshadowing.

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #17

As I stepped away from the happily humming third fusor, Anne-Marie waved to me, said, "Several of the team are off to their meal-times, Jake, but they'll be back in an hour or so. Then it's our turn. Any problems ?"

"None. In fact, those old fusors behaved so well, I could almost be worried..."

"Better safe than sorry," she laughed. "There's good news for menu variety: Crew-drum has a lot of 'meat' cell-lines in their cryo-storage. Partly back-up for 'City-Class' spin-drums' cultures, partly for diagnostic purposes. They've all the documentation but, bad news, only 'pilot-plant' sized vats and media supplies."

"Could be worse," I admitted. "At least we won't be reduced to cloning lab-rat tissue !"

"Three types," Anne-Marie allowed, "And dwarf rabbits. Plus, one of the two Rock-Tugs' family-crews breeds hamsters, guinea-pigs, bantam chickens and ducks."

"Yay !" After a moment, I added, "I wouldn't mind a look at their air-handling's stink-trap: Cannot be standard..."

"Agreed." Anne-Marie nodded. "They also breed tabby cats, but felines are off the menu."

"Of course," I agreed. "At least we have the crew's culture recipes and protocols, can scale vats ready for when we get the media makings..."

"True..." Anne-Marie nodded, then shuddered, whispered, "Our two 'Ponics Eng-3s are just mid-course students. They both volunteered for this run for extra credits plus hazard pay. On top of losing their families, friends and careers, they were terrified they'd have to set up and run these drums' 'Ponics on their own, plus improvise 'Ponics in the corridors, hall-ways and vacant rooms. Having all the folders' documentation, the Gantt charts, has helped a lot. They're astonished our team just stepped up. And they're still amazed that, despite our many skills, we respect them..."

"I'm glad," I said. "They're having to grow up so fast, but..."

"Uh-huh." Anne-Marie smiled, said, "I did ask about the crew garden's 'Ponics. Seems they got lucky: The in-bound leg had a rough insertion by 'normal' standards. Jostled tray lids, caused some sloshing, spillage. So, given their hours of clean-up, they double-tied everything ahead of departure, to be sure, to be sure. And, when the 'Big One' hit, the lids stayed on..."

"Murphy thwarted !!"

"Mostly... But these 'Ponics," Anne-Marie waved about, "are staying dry until after the first mapping leg, at least. And Fresno will be doing this first light-year in wary hops. Literally an 'AU' at a time, then a Fibonacci Series: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21--"

"34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377--"

"And so on, until we're really flying."

"Sensible." I nodded. "Get a feel for how space here-about compares to our sparser 'Local Bubble'. Might even spot a 'Rogue' planet or 'Oort' object. Certainly gives us time to complete this drum-end's racks, then the other end."

"Then both ends of the other drum. Double-plus good for morale: Staring at teeny-tiny seeds and cultures, waiting, waiting for seedlings and shoots can feel like watching tall trees grow. Putting up framing and systems, filling trays gives something tangible to do, report..."

"Uh, the plumbing controllers, valves and sensors ?"

"Mostly good. Couple of 'Wonky Donkeys', but we've time to figure what's wrong, and we've ample spares."

"Planters in berthing zone passage-ways and communal spaces ?"

"Planned. Again, nothing before the first mapping leg. And, yes, cultivars tolerant of reduced humidity."

We exchanged grins, until I prompted, "Hug ?"

"Hug..." When we came up for air, she sighed, said, "A hand with these trays ?"

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #18

We were just leaving the diner and its silently brooding 'Mater Harris' when a steward intercepted us. "Mizz McKensie ? Mr. Kinson ? May I have a word ?"

I recognised her strong contralto from that urgent post-Bump sweep. Stocky, with brown eyes, a tawny brush-cut and the competent air of a time-served 'ER Staff Nurse' or 'Paramedic', she invited us to the stewards' local lair, the 'First Aid' / Triage room.

"Thank you both for taking this time away from the 'Ponics," she began, after quietly closing and latching the door. "I'm Sheila Lindstrom. We have a problem. I've conferred with Fresno crew, including Sandra Hawkins and Jack Morley, my colleagues on this drum's other watches, and they reckon you may be able to resolve it.

"It's several problems, really, but concatenated to one...

"Occupants of other cabins adjoining your neighbour, 'Mater' Harris--"

Anne-Marie and I groaned in unison. Sheila allowed herself a tiny smile. "Yes, her. Fortunately, Ms. Harris backed down before her, um, unfortunate attitude drew official notice, formal sanction. Your, um, 'educational' exchange in the diner also provided temporary remission from her repeated demands for a better menu, bigger portions, more spacious accommodation, provision to hold scheduled assemblies...

"Though you have logged no complaint about cabin noise, her other neighbours beside and behind, even diagonal, are pleading to be moved away. 'Voice like a cat in season.' 'Humps like a hippo.' 'Scolds and preaches without pause.' They're but a few of the milder comments we've logged. Off-the-record, even the harshest seem under-stated...

"So, we have her, currently a 'Running Sore' on our small community. And, we have the Captain's wish to quietly reward folk who've gone 'Above and Beyond' in their contribution to Fresno...

"Happens there are some vacant cabins at the further end of each corridor, adjoining the central bulkhead's 'circular'. The Chief's had a look at these Berthing Drums' documentation. He reckons it would be straight-forward to dismount the end pair's back-to back bunking and divider panels, re-arrange the bunking to provide Ms. Harris with a socially distanced three-triple suite. The extra triple-bunk would come here to augment our triage provision. In addition, that part of the corridor is on a different diner schedule. I'm sure Ms. Harris will complain about her longer hike to the diner and the changed schedule but, given the alternative is to continue playing 'sardines', I doubt she'll refuse. However, 'actioning' such is currently a low-priority for our few Engineers, be they 'Fresno' or 'Rock Tug' crew...

"If you were prepared to tackle this, Chief's happy for you to similarly extend your cabin into Ms. Harris' relinquished one. In addition to immediately doubling screen and desk access, you could further extend your work-space by aligning a bed-shelf to the table tops. And, yes, we'd welcome your spare triple-bunk here..." Ms. Lindstrom looked between us, digested our expressions, remarked, "Ha ! I see Cadet, uh, Eng-3 Solent called it right: You probably figured this days ago, but were too professional to suggest it...."

"It could not come from us," Anne-Marie agreed. "So, when would be convenient ?"

"Cadet, uh, Eng-3 Solent works 2-10, uh, the 1400--2200 slot in 'Ponics, so any time before or after that."

"After our breakfast tomorrow ?" Anne-Marie suggested. "We'll need a key-holder..."

"I'll leave a message for Sandra," Ms. Lindstrom agreed. "If you don't mind, could Ms. Harris settle in her new suite before you tackle yours ?"

"No hardship," Anne-Marie stated. "Besides, it will take several days, perhaps a week, before the last of Ms. Harris' pheromones dissipate."

"Huh ?" Ms. Lindstrom raised eloquent eye-brows.

"As a cult 'Mater', she'll have a medical augment that can dispense synthetic pheromones," I explained. "Like ritual incense ? Members become addicted to the mild 'buzz', and it keeps them compliant."

"Think 'social insects'," Anne-Marie added, "rather than cats' 'Friendly Hormone' face-rubs."

"I'll be..."

"Upside, Fresno's air-handling deals with her personal fug along with our farts and such." I smiled. "Still, depending on when she had a refill, she'll run out. Could be months, perhaps as long as a year depending on her usage. Meanwhile, thwarted from getting control of the 'Ponics, she may try to leverage her augment's effects, 'person to person'."

"I'm used to blooms' powerful scents. Jake's medical stuff would alert, counter if she tried to 'wow' him. However, some crew and passengers may be vulnerable to recruitment as proxies," Anne-Marie cautioned. "Beware poorly ventilated cabins, too-private meetings..."

"Uh..." Ms. Lindstrom looked rather pale.

"Should she 'lobby' or 'evangelise' excessively," I said, "Captain Owen could simply order her augment disabled, drained, 'For The Good Of The Ship'."

Anne-Marie nodded, said, "Also, without those pheromones, her Deputy and 'Bonded' males may develop unaccustomed volition. If it up-ends their dynamics, she and her group would need urgent counselling."

"Bit like kids hitting adolescence," I muttered, thinking of several super-sassy cousins. "Won't be pretty..."

"I'll put a discreet note in their security and medical files," Ms. Lindstrom stated. "Hmm. I wonder what other surprises our new community holds..."

[jemhouston]

That explains why she's still breathing

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #19

Sandra Hawkins, a wiry, blue-eyed, bob-cut blonde was waiting as we left breakfast. I recognised her mezzo as the second voice of that post-shock sweep. Anne-Marie invited her into our cabin while we gathered the tools, gloves and such we'd readied. Ms. Hawkins peered at our multiple, well-secured crates, raised an expressive eye-brow but made no comment.

After opening the two cabins, Ms. Hawkins stayed for a few minutes to watch and help us briskly dismount both en-suite sides' bunk-shelves. Then, while I tackled the dividing wall-panels, she and Anne-Marie ferried three bunk-shelves and their mattresses to the 'First Aid' room, one by one. Given the low 'spin' gravity and lack of 'Boost', these were awkward but no great chore. To avoid undue comment, they went the 'scenic route', via the central bulkhead's ring-corridor, then along.

The four full-height, cubit-wide divider panels were clamped to each other by strong twin-slot shelving uprights bolted into two-finger wide box-section framing. The counter-sunk M6 fixings took a H4 'hex' driver, had been uniformly torqued. My multi-tool spun them out 'by the numbers'. Released, panels could be lifted by two finger-widths into their over-depth upper channel, tilted clear of their deck channel, lowered to free. In turn, the framing could be un-bolted from upper and lower channels, then them and both side-channels from the 'drum' framing...

By the time the first prial of bed-shelves were re-homed, I was fitting the second across the gap where the bulkhead had been. Finished in moments, I holstered my multi-tool, pointed to my baggy of CSK bolts, the gathered channels, uprights and panels, asked, "What about these ?"

"Panel proportions are not ideal for stretchers or spinal boards," Ms. Hawkins stated. "But, with hammock or bunk-net as grab-handles, would serve. Also, our clinic area's shelving provision is, um, minimal. Too narrow, too shallow. Two of these would bridge across, triple our storage...

"Some-where, some-where aboard this spin-drum there must be a stock of replacement panels, framing, channels, even bolts. We've not yet found it. Likewise, plumbing and HVAC spares..."

Anne-Marie and I exchanged glances, raised eye-brows, before I suggested, "Could they be in the Attic ? And what about the many wedge-shaped plant/equipment rooms tucked into the end-cone beside or behind the stairs' and elevator shafts ? All doors are numbered, of course, but I noticed only those with 'Serious Stuff' have bold name-plates, too."

"That's interesting," Ms. Hawkins admitted. "Hmm..."

"Whatever, we'll keep our eyes peeled," Anne-Marie promised then, patting the materiel I'd dismounted, asked, "Meanwhile, do these go to the clinic ?"

"Please !!"

One by one, I maneuvered the wall-panels out of the cabin, rested one end on the ring-corridor bulkhead's grab-rail while Anne-Marie steadied the other level on the cabins-side rail. With channels and such stacked, too, the three of us toted our 'club-sandwich' around to this drum-end's clinic.

"I'll leave it to the end of my shift before giving Ms. Harris the good news, Ms. McKensie," Ms. Hawkins decided. "Gives the double cabin a chance to 'breathe', lest she recognise your distinctive floral shampoo."

"Please," Anne-Marie pleaded. "I do not want her to think she'd 'Got One Up' on Fresno--"

"Or us !" I interjected.

"By nagging you..."

"Hopefully, the move, the extra walk and the changed meal-times will seem enough hassle to feel 'Zero Sum'," I stated. "Should deter trivial requests."

Ms. Hawkins' eyes twinkled. Then she stopped, thought for a moment. "Uh, Ms. McKensie, didn't your 'Social Profile' mention Aikido ?"

"Yes. I'm a Second Dan..." Anne-Marie shrugged. "But 'Chaparral' was so hectic, I'm a bit out of practice. And now the spin. And rationing..."

"Uh-huh..." Ms. Hawkins nodded slowly. "Maintaining fitness will be a problem for a while. In-bound, Sheila and I would jog around this end's ring-corridor. Sprints took us up to nearly a 'Standard', which was fun...

"There's a family at the other end who mentioned they do Tai Chi: Would you--"

"Yay !" Anne-Marie and I cheered, before she replied, "Brilliant ! Stay nimble and, if switch directions regularly, get used to hefting batons and such under spin and thrust !"

"MMA ?"

"Potentially..." Anne-Marie grinned like a cat. "Back in college, I LARPed as a 'Sword-Maiden' ! Sparring with short-sword and 'target' was wild fun !"

"Yes, our drums' spin and, when we get it, thrust are a problem," I agreed, mischievously adding, "But, given lemons, make lemonade; Have onions--"

"Make Relish !" Anne-Marie completed, earning us a huge grin from Ms. Hawkins.

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #20

That afternoon, our 'Ponics team put in a long, long session, returning after hasty meals. It set the pattern of our days. In time, our efforts completed this first drum-end's racking. We populated it with trays and lighting panels, connected plumbing and power, filled trays with securely lidded bedding granules. Then, after three wary inspection sweeps and sundry random checks, declared it fully 'Dry-Foot'.

The other drum's folk went off with 3-Eng Dickson, began to unpack and erect their 'Ponics. The rest of us 'locked' through our drum's central bulkhead, met and began training its team, recruited by 3-Eng Solent. Everything would be left dry for now. Seems there was sufficient diner stock that a dozen more days' delay before planting was an acceptable precaution against the possible vicissitudes of this as-yet 'unknown' space.

I'd had a brief text-mail from 2nd_Lieutenant Svenson. He again reported nothing of immediate interest, other than a local neutral-Hydrogen density of 0.45 atoms/cm³. Though similar to the Milky Way's average Inter-Stellar Medium of 0.5 atoms/cm³, it was ten times our familiar 'Local Bubble' density of about 0.05 atoms/cm³, and half-again that of our Local Interstellar Cloud's 0.3 atoms/cm³. How this would affect Fresno was uncertain, beyond increasing Field power requirements, so reducing range...

It was almost a week before Anne-Marie and I could extend our cabin. Beside our unrelenting 'Ponics work, we were both trawling our personal libraries and searching Fresno's for relevant or tangential arcana. Beyond daily exhaustion and rationed meals, the road-block was 'Mater' Harris' persistent pheromones. She, her Deputy and the seven 'Bound' males had moved to the double-cabin within hours of being notified. As expected, she'd been less than grateful for the accommodation upgrade. She'd complained volubly about how long it had taken to action, that the Duty Steward had declined to help with their baggage or the four extra mattresses, that their suite was now so far from the diner, that their diner schedule was now an hour later...

As we'd feared, 'Mater' Harris' pheromones lingered in their relinquished cabin. After 24 hours, Anne-Marie had taken one wary sniff, gagged on the fug, dived in just long enough to turn up the air-con. Even stood in the corridor, my medical augments had squawked alarm. 72 hours in, I was able to hastily flip the original six mattresses to 'air' better before getting an alert.

My log claimed it was close to 150 hours before Anne-Marie and I agreed that 'Mater' Harris' fug had sufficiently dissipated. We soon dismounted the divider, delivered its 'left-overs' to the 'First Aid' room, where they were greeted with barely suppressed glee by Duty Steward Jack Morley. Despite his name, classic Roman features flagged his ancestry. He traded compliments with Anne-Marie in equally shaky Italian.

[jemhouston]

If this turns into a murder mystery, please make Mater Harris the victim.

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #21

News from the other drum was their first 'Ponics were progressing well. Our drum's other end was a different matter. I could not decide if 'bad luck' or our local volunteers were simply less dextrous. Only the fusors were well behaved. Framing, shelving and plumbing were 'reluctant', the valves, sensors etc more so. Again and again, it came down to our few 'First Team' folk to figure what, why, how, then set matters a-right. Again and again, though there was rarely anything obviously wrong, having one of us warily dismantle then re-assemble yet-another 'Wonky Donkey' resolved it.

3-Eng Solent was quietly terrified, the locals were embarrassed, our 'First Team' concerned, but Anne-Marie just shook her weary head. Even starting from scratch, assembling our first drum-end's 'Ponics had run well ahead of the conservative Gantt charts. We had a fair margin to buffer this drum-end's learning curve's bloopers. We'd need it, as Fresno would soon be flight-testing the Overdrive...

As before, the announcement was scheduled a full day in advance. Just before Noon, the 'City of Fresno' logo filled our wall-screen. Right on time, after a formal eight-bell ring, the logo was replaced by our Captain in severe 'Full Dress Uniform'.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I am Captain Wilfred Owen.

"Work to return Fresno to full flight status is progressing well.

"Extensive checks and diagnostics on Fresno's Overdrive agree that the system seems 'Flight Capable'. Even so, we will start carefully, doing short flights then further diagnostics before repeating or extending the range.

"To mitigate disruption of diner schedules, which calls groups on the hour, those calls will include warning of any planned test-flight. A fifteen-minute alert will be given on the half-hour, with count-down to net ahead of 'Insertion' on the three-quarter hour. These initial hops should only last a few minutes, with few per day. As confidence grows and test-flights extend, we will return to 'normal service' between net-downs for 'Insertion' and 'Break-out'.

"As yet, our Astronomy scans have shown nothing of concern, little of interest. Fresno is currently in 'empty' space, several light-years from any star. Although precise mapping must await parallax data from our subsequent mapping 'legs', the Hertzsprung-Russel relationship between 'Main Sequence' star colour, brightness and size allows a fair initial estimate of distance to most nearby stars. Re-survey of several 'Too Bright' stars found they had twin, cyclically Doppler-shifted spectra, so were 'un-resolved' close-binaries.

"Our first 'leg' will angle us toward a single K-type star, some-what cooler and more orange than Chaparral. Seen from our current position, its spectrum lacks the lesser Doppler shifts due a 'Hot Jupiter'. Our course has been chosen so that, after that week in 'empty' space to collect Astronomy scans, a second flight leg may take Fresno into that star's 'Kuiper Belt'.

"In addition to warily surveying the inner-system for potential resources and habitable zone activity, our week collecting Astronomy scans should also provide an opportunity to locate and mine a small comet or ice-moon...

"Until we are confident that Fresno will fly well in this unknown space, the Hydroponics being assembled on the spin-drums' upper level will remain dry. This precaution is temporary, and will not affect diner rationing.

"Reverse engineering of the diner menus is on-going. Their original utility software and documentation may yet be found in Fresno's library, deeply misfiled, but we can and we will manage without.

"My compliments to the teams assembling the Hydroponics. Despite the unfamiliar equipment, they are currently ahead of schedule. When these facilities are operational, the teams hope to set planters and tubs in public spaces to improve the environment. Also, my compliments to the ad-hoc teams who have repaired their spin-drums' laundrette facilities.

"During mapping weeks, the spin-drum stewards hope to offer low-impact 'Keep Fit' sessions of Yoga and Tai Chi. More aerobic activities must await assured Hydroponic cropping.

"Thank you."

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #22

Anne-Marie and I worked a long, long afternoon in the other end's 'Ponics then, after a hasty meal in their diner, all evening. As the local team edged up the 'learning curve', their 'blooper' rate subsided by welcome stages. We still could not spot what they were doing wrong, but it gradually stopped happening. More and more, they were 'Right First Time'...

The following morning, we'd just returned to our double-cabin after a minimal breakfast when the next session was called. Also, warning of a brief test-flight on the three-quarter hour. And, yes, as 'Mater' Harris and her followers trooped past, we could hear her loud complaints about having to rush breakfast. Given that end still had some empty cabins, her group would actually be served swifter than before. And, given servings had been further rationed, they would not take as long to prepare or eat. Even 'tithing' her Deputy's and Minions' plates, 'Mater' Harris would not need to eat quickly. She was, of course, still complaining while returning to their cabin with scant minutes to spare and 'Please Net' warnings lit.

By then, Anne-Marie and I had each used our en-suite, were safely cuddled under a shared net. To be sure, to be sure, I'd set a pillow ready to pull between our heads. We chanted along with both screens' count-down, "... Five, Four, Three, Two, One, Go !"

Fresno trembled slightly. My augments reported that a Drive Field had built, 'Done the Needful', then closed cleanly. My Nav augment 'Did The Math', reckoned we'd travelled about the distance from Earth to Moon. The 'Please Net' warnings cleared.

"That..." Anne-Marie judged, "That was thankfully anticlimactic !"

"Agreed," I replied. "I reckon about a light-second. Little enough to be covered by Fresno's local scans, ample for high data-rate telemetry..."

"Go through this data with proverbial 'Fine Tooth Comb', same again tomorrow ?" Anne-Marie wondered.

"I'd say so..."

"I wonder..." She mused. "Would it be at exactly the same time ?"

"I don't see why not..." I began, paused, then inclined a finger in the general direction of 'Mater' Harris. "Hmm ? Pure coincidence, of course--"

"Of course !" Anne-Marie laughed. "It would be so petty to schedule a serious ship-activity to specifically inconvenience one exasperating passenger..."

We subsided into giggles, which segued via enthusiastic smooches into a long, close cuddle...

After we'd cleaned up, Anne-Marie asked, "What will you be researching until lunch ?"

"Iceteroids," I quipped. "As far as I know, both rock-tug family-crews are 'Hauliers', with little or no ice-slicing experience. I reckon Tulsa took all the 'volatiles' refinery rigs, tugs, tanks and workers...

"I prefer rocky moons and asteroids, but my training did include 'icy' and 'mixed'. Just, I can't find any mention of Fresno having sample-coring rigs or slicing jigs. Which means I'll have to carve chunks 'by eye' with a borrowed 'semi-portable' Blaster. Which will so kick up a fog of dust and diamond-ice."

"Set 'Situational Awareness' to 'Super-Paranoid'," Anne-Marie noted. "Uh, how will you bring gleanings aboard ? Can't stuff much into a flight-case or IBC..."

"Ah, we got lucky..." I drew a slow breath. "Fresno's ferrying three --Three !!-- collection tanks. They've a 'full-width' forty-five metre diameter hatch at one end. So, I'll carve chunks off the iceteroid, zap their butts to launch them clear. Tug lines up an open tank, catches them like wind-falls in a bucket..."

"Start small," Anne-Marie allowed. "Get your eye in, work up to ground-car sized ?"

"Exactly." I nodded. "Close lid on the day's catch, warm it up. Tap volatiles, dig out solids..."

"Uh, won't chunks bounce out when the tug's manoeuvring ?"

"No." I shook my head. "Beyond fancy piloting, an array of Field Poles around the hatch-way work as a weak pump. If they're careful, what goes in, stays in."

"That's a seriously big impeller-less pump," Anne-Marie mused. "Even little ones are so expensive, but you can do such weird stuff with them. Shame we can't use the same tech for 'artificial gravity'..."

"Ha ! Yes, 'Floater Industries' has been trying since their first Pole-prial produced thrust. Yeah, you can pull pallets and such down to a loading deck. Takes a dozen mini-Poles per square metre, but feels like a boulder beach. Even at four or five times that density, it's still rough as a cobbled lane..."

"Hmm... Like a grid of disk magnets compared to a 'flat' fridge-magnet's Halbach array ?"

"Exactly. Needs lots more 3-D structure than most Field Poles' near-planar, circuit-on-slab design." I shrugged. "Given big Field Poles' substrates take years to grow, and artificial gravity would use ruddy hectares of the stuff, needs a major tech break-through...

"What are you working on ?"

"Oh, this and that: Mostly cost / benefit of garnish types, medicinal plants, herbs and spices." She shook her head. "Corridor and common-space planters are easy, though. A dozen cultivars that grow fast, bush or clad walls in green, thrive on mild neglect, don't mind being touched and sniffed..."

"I'd drink to that," I laughed. "Any chance of mint or camomile for herbal tea ?"

"Funny you should ask..." Anne-Marie allowed herself a mischievous grin. "They're on the list..."

[jemhouston]

Next thing you know, City of Fresno Whiskey.

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

Gin ??

Also, according to Wiki, "A tea can be made from the young twigs..."

[jemhouston]

Gin ??

Also, according to Wiki, "A tea can be made from the young twigs..."

Are you trying to kill them?

The UK gave the world three adult beverages: gin, which the English screwed up, Scotch, which the Scots almost got right, and Irish Whiskey. which Heaven sent to Earth to comfort the hurt and reward the just.

[kdahm]

Gin ??

Also, according to Wiki, "A tea can be made from the young twigs..."

Are you trying to kill them?

The UK gave the world three adult beverages: gin, which the English screwed up, Scotch, which the Scots almost got right, and Irish Whiskey. which Heaven sent to Earth to comfort the hurt and reward the just.

And were essential in the popularization and mercantilism of Port.

[jemhouston]

Gin ??

Also, according to Wiki, "A tea can be made from the young twigs..."

Are you trying to kill them?

The UK gave the world three adult beverages: gin, which the English screwed up, Scotch, which the Scots almost got right, and Irish Whiskey. which Heaven sent to Earth to comfort the hurt and reward the just.

And were essential in the popularization and mercantilism of Port.

Back in my drinking days, I don't think I had Port, but I did like brandy. I never really got into wine or beer.

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #23

Day by day, Fresno did a brief, but cautiously extended Overdrive dash after breakfast. Several repeats of that first, single light-second took alternating directions to stay in known, well-scanned space. These were followed by two light-seconds, then three, five, eight and so on, warily climbing the Fibonacci Series. Next, Fresno continued the rising count, again in alternating directions, as longer flights with 'Insertion' and 'Break-out' as separate 'Net Downs' an hour, several hours, then most of the day apart. Eventually, we safely passed the four-eighty of an 'Astronomical Unit'. Though impressive, this now-proven capability was dwarfed by the immensity of inter-stellar space...

Day by day, Anne-Marie and I helped set up more rows of racks in the further 'Ponics area, helped populate them with trays, lights, bedding and plumbing. We coached skills, built friendships, traded tales.

"Jake," 'Tall' Peter wondered, as he and I wrangled a persistently reluctant tray. "Anne-Marie said your 'Rock-Hopping' found some 'Prior' artefacts ?"

"Only scraps," I allowed, carefully studying the balky whatsit. "A few contorted, palm-sized chunks, probably wreckage. Usual 'impossible' alloys: Not 'Trans-Uranic', just near-fractal internal structure like a Damascene Blade. Perhaps 3-D printed, then press-densified ? I've seen reports of 'meaningful' finds, but never, ever anything as recognisable as, say, a torn over-glove or star-mangled spanner."

"Huh ? There's supposed to be all-sorts..."

"Nah, they're so scrunched, they're Rorschach tests: People see what they want." I shrugged. "Possible twist: Ever hear of a Pre-Burn book called, 'Roadside Picnic' ? People trying to figure alien society from the trash some left ?"

"You're kidding !"

I pointed to a slim, cleverly moulded packing-block that was still stuck to a corner of the next lighting panel we'd soon fit. "Other than we've dozens, hundreds of those, identical to the millimetre, how could you figure what they do ? Their sheer number is a clue of sorts. Their batch imprints may help. But, one of the codes flags their material for re-cycling. So, instead of hundreds alike, you have two or three, variously re-used as bump-stops or cat-toys, then discarded or simply lost...

"No, I reckon anything useful was cleaned out long, long ago. The Anwyce may not have been the first, or even the third society to go star-faring in our 'Local Bubble'. Difference, they didn't die out, which is surprising given they managed to seriously rile every exo-sapient they met. And, um, there's hints some Priors did not flee the advancing 'Firewall', but retreated into gas-giants' atmospheres--"

"Huh ? But they're deadly !"

"Well, Jupiter, certainly: Those Jovian radiation belts make Earth's nasty 'Van Allens' look like a dental scan. And 'Zone' storms ?" I shrugged. "But Saturn and some of the 'exo' sub-giants aren't so bad. There's altitudes where temperature, pressure and gravity are hab-zone. Literally shirt-sleeve, in a 'bubble-tent' with Heliox mix. And isn't there a Saturnian research ship hung from a hot-gas balloon cluster ? Worst case, they can just fly away..."

"But to hang towns, cities..."

"Uh-huh. They'd be okay for a while, perhaps several generations. Then, Murphy-bait..." I thumped near the corner of our reluctant tray with a precise palm-edge, flexed it into compliance. "Ha ! Gotcha !

"Okay, what's next ? Still that light-panel ?"

[jemhouston]

A hot air balloon for Saturn needs on NASA's list.

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #24

My Nav augments were meant for 'local' work around asteroids and moons. Combining their data with Field alerts' timing gave me, at best, a general indication of how far, how fast Fresno was travelling in Overdrive. Curiously, my limited sensor suite reported that our most recent dashes were longer strict 'Fibonacci', but regularly returned Fresno to near where we'd begun. If not 'exactly', then within the jitter of my modest instruments. My curiosity piqued, I text-mailed 2nd_Lieutenant Svenson, in Navigation.

He replied by video-call, "Mr Kinson ! I wondered when you'd call ! Yes, we're also checking, re-aligning and calibrating our instruments. They were severely shaken by our 'Long Jump', but have settled down. And, yes, we deployed a beacon-buoy. Passive until pinged with go-code, finding it gives Fresno's sensor suite a good work-out."

I nodded politely, asked, "Anything interesting on deeper digs through the star-scans ?"

"Not as yet. Stellar population is a remarkably familiar mix, ranging from a few 'Brights' out to many dim 'Reds'. Certainly, no 'exotics'.

"Fresno's working up to a full light-year leg, then we'll hold position for a mapping week. This second set of 360º / 4π scans should give firm parallax data on most nearby systems orthogonal to our course. We'll pick up the remaining bow and stern 'cones' after our skew second leg."

"Which, with a bit of luck, will take us into the icy fringes of that system the Captain mentioned." I took a breath, said, "I've been reading up about 'Iceteroid' gleaning. Looks easy, isn't. Have you found any-one who's done much ?"

The 2nd_Lieutenant's head-shake was eloquent.

"They all left on Tulsa ?" I sighed. "Figures ! I prefer rocky moons, but I've done some work on 'Ices', 'Iceteroids' and small comets. So, looks like it will have to be me, 'Big Mac' and a borrowed semi-portable Blaster. Which, no doubt, I must formally requisition and be issued ?"

"Indeed."

"At least you have a few 'Catch Tanks'. I'll need to sit down with the rock-tug crew who'd be juggling them, talk through our 'game-play'. Also, run any training simulations. For their benefit as much as mine..."

The following morning, we warily netted down for yet another Overdrive insertion. Three days passed before the corresponding 'Breakout', my instruments indicating we'd travelled about a tenth of a light-year. This was much slower than a 'City Class' usually managed but, hey, we were in minimally charted space. After a full day to study the logs, we were off again. Five days took us a fifth of a light-year. A week took us half, then ten days took us the full 'Light'.

Finally, finally, while Fresno's few Field Engineers checked systems, and sensors collected astronomical data from this shifted view-point, us 'Ponics folk were given the 'go-ahead' to wet and plant our first lines.

[jemhouston]

Baby steps, then a dash.

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

City of Fresno #25

After two very busy days helping local teams 'populate' their first 'Ponics lines and start cultivars destined for 'public area' planters, Anne-Marie and I got some welcome down-time. Invited to the Crew's spin-drum to tour their 'Ponics facilities, she was off like a shot. I took all our stale clothing to this drum-end's laundrette for a hastily booked 'time-slot', made small-talk with the other clients. Consensus, there was no real substitute for a 'proper' laundry run. Hand-bowl dunks with minimal hand-soap or sanitiser then drip-dried from improvised washing lines just did not 'cut' the grime. Unless it was Anne-Marie's or mine. Notably, our 'Stales' were significantly cleaner than our neighbours' 'Freshly Hand-Washed'. My time spent as a 'Rock-Hopper', four sweaty guys crammed into a standard deep-space work-pod, essentially a 'Local' work-pod, a chunky barrel lumped by over-sized FieldPoles, plus a mini-hab in tow, had taught me the knack.

At least we were not lined up on a croc-infested river's bank, hand-beating our robes, shirts, shorts and baggy pants to chanted cadence. My school holidays' precious weeks visiting my parents 'In The Field' were always 'Interesting'. Upside, hugs. And, yes, 'Educational', with exotic scenery, fascinating geology, wondrous flora and fauna, fun folk, food and such.

Take Tibesti: Some hundred thousand square kilometres of volcanic desert Massif resembling 'Legendary Mars', the area had been 'Unsafe' for fully two centuries due vicious border, faction and tribal squabbles. Before the Convention's pacification, the Massif could only be studied remotely. Surprisingly, it had gained from the vast fires and global cooling that followed the 'Hot 'Flu' collapse. Weather zones' small shifts back towards the Equator now brought more dew and seasonal rain to those highlands. And, yes, a procession of geologists, geo-physicists, volcanologists, botanists, palaeontologists, archaeologists etc etc to investigate the many wonders of this near-alien environment.

Down-side, the Massif had ghastly hot days, bitterly cold nights, wind-driven sand, choking swirls of dust and astonishing humidity swings. Also, 'Hostile' wild-life. Dire Lord Murphy, that wild-life ! Even our Australian contingent grumbled: Never mind roaches, flies, camel-spiders and their ilk, which were merely 'Nuisances', there were venomous ants, scorpions and snakes. Also, toothy predators' eyes in the night, in the bush, in the shallows...

My parents' colleagues duly expressed concern for my safety. Yes, I wore a small-bore hand-gun and a neat buzz-blade on my belt, but I was just a child, under-sized for my age. Dad grinned, organised a shooting contest. My custom HK-46 was a revelation. The slim grip's 'reduced' magazine held a dozen 4.6 x 30mm rounds, in steel not lead. With remarkably low kick-back, those flew so clean I could place multiple shots sooner and better-grouped than the locals' eponymous AKs or our Convention BiGuns. Such that, a week in, a mid-sized croc who launched up the bank found himself blinded by my gun-fire, my buzz-blade through his brain-pan. I dragged this hapless 'River Monster' into camp, helped our bemused Cook skin and 'joint' him for curry and stew. Which, for the record, tasted like turkey. And, yes, that precisely pierced skull caused quite a stir at my school's subsequent 'Holiday Show & Tell'...