“Clarke, I have an independent assignment for you,” Strangelove said.
The dark-coated Derf carefully laid his tools down beside the parts he’d just removed from his 20mm rifle, and gave his commander his full attention. He’d never had a solo job. It wasn’t appropriate to make a big deal of being trusted. He just intended to do his best so Strangelove wouldn’t regret it.
“Jeff Singh, who I am guarding, and his partner April Lewis are hosting a little party in two days. We don’t want outsiders at this affair, so I want you to tend bar. Do you have any experience at serving fancy alcohol?”
“I can draw a beer or pour straight to a glass. Mostly, we just pass a bottle around.”
“Look in the Human web fraction to see the special implements used. Also, download several texts on the art and keep them all in your spex. You are authorized to spend whatever it takes to hire someone skilled in the art to demonstrate how to do the mixing this evening. Go to some establishments that mix fancy drinks, but if you can’t find somebody actively employed at this currently, call a temporary worker service and have them send out a bartender to instruct you. They can come here or provide a place of instruction. Buy equipment if you need to. I’m sure restaurant suppliers have what you need. Don’t try to hire any of the workers at the Old Hotel and don’t reveal who you will be serving to your instructor. It’s enough they know you are mixing for Humans, not which particular Humans.”
“I understand. Any activity by Mr. Singh is a security matter,” Clarke said.
“Exactly right. Set this card to your hand and use it,” Strangelove said, giving him a Red Tree card. That was a matter of trust well beyond working solo. He immediately peeled the touchpad cover and rubbed his finger pad on it firmly to make sure it registered him.
* * *
“What happened to you?” Bill King demanded when Sam hobbled in.
“Shower first, then something to numb my feet,” Sam insisted without answering his question. He kept walking right past him.
“And an antiseptic,” King said looking at the bloody footprints Sam left on the floor.
Sam held up his hand to keep King from touching him but he needn’t have worried. He had no intention of touching him unless he fell. He had a weird yellowish-green sheen to him that might be something nasty. It took three thorough scrub-downs before the color was much lighter. Sam suspected he’d still glow somewhat if he went out in the sun. He explained what happened while his partner scrubbed down his back. He couldn’t really scrub his feet but he sat on the tub edge and felt carefully with his fingertips to make sure there weren’t any sharp pieces embedded. The water still ran pink when he rinsed them.
King came back with their first aid kit.
“We have a numbing disinfectant in a tube,” King said and showed him, “but I’m not sure this roll of bandages will do both feet. Are you sure you don’t need a clinic?”
“I’ll put half the tube on each foot and then put on clean socks over it,” Sam said. ignoring the other question. “Double socks,” he decided after thinking about it, “the salve will ooze through. I’m going to be off my feet for a couple of days.”
“More like a couple of weeks,” King warned him. “I can’t believe nobody stopped to help you. What’s wrong with people?”
“The Derf would have no idea it wasn’t some bizarre Human custom. I saw three cars of Humans go past but they all just stared at me with their mouths hanging open. Would you tell the car to do an emergency stop to let a naked glowing green man get in your car?”
“I’m not sure what I’d do,” King admitted. “On Earth, I’d call the police and say they needed to send a mental health intervention team. I’m not sure there is any corresponding service in a trade town. Certainly not for Humans when they have no idea what is normal or insane in Humans. I never appreciated before how much Derf are self-policing. They don’t even have a fire department, which makes people take every precaution that they don’t let a fire get started in the first place.”
“On Earth, I’d have been arrested for indecency. Derf are perfectly legal in fur without so much as a belt or boots. I’d have been delighted to be arrested today.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” King asked after Sam had the socks on.
“Play nurse and bring me things so I can prop my feet up and stay in a chair,” Sam requested. “It might not hurt to look up the industrial hazard sheet for crack detecting dye.”
“What are we going to do about this?” King asked.
Sam looked at him in alarm.
“Not a blessed thing. The shop owner called Lee Anderson. Otherwise, I’d be dead and you’d never have had a clue what happened to me. He said directly to thank her for my life. I’m not going to do that literally, but neither will I risk approaching that building again. If we so much as look funny at that Derf, you can bet we will be regarded as stupidly ungrateful. She, that huge humorless father of hers, or her clan will finish the job for him. We’re trying to get ourselves established to be independent here. If we mess with any part of that crowd, life on Derfhome will be untenable for us.”
“He has your gun and all your papers,” King said, still unhappy to let that go. “You should add monitoring aviation radio with keywords for him and Lee. There’s no risk to listen.”
“He has a pocket full of bugs and spy bots and what money I had on me too. He’s welcome to them. I can replace them. I just lingered too long snooping around. I should have grabbed a few crude pix and made tracks. Nothing that big should move so quietly. I didn’t know he was behind me until he put his hand on my shoulder.”
“Where was he anyway? Did he run out to get lunch or something?” King asked.
“He told Lee he was in the loo.”
“You mean the toilet?” King asked.
“Yeah. It’s the weirdest thing. He speaks English like upper-class British, or what I think they sound like from period videos. It’s strange hearing it from a huge hairy monster.”
* * *
Clarke got a hundred dollars Ceres on his new card and read the local net ads with a critical eye. One fancy restaurant, in particular, made a point of advertising off-world liquor and exotic mixed drinks. That sounded like a worthy target and he called for a car.
The bartender briefly gave him a dubious look when he leaned on the bar. The stools didn’t lend themselves to Derf. They were too high and it might take four pushed together to hold his weight. However, when he came over, he was all professional politeness.
“What is your pleasure, sir?”
“I’m looking to hire your expertise,” Clarke admitted without any preliminaries.
“I’m Iverson,” the fellow said. “I work three on three off. If you have an outside gig for me, I do that if it fits my schedule.”
“I have to be the bartender for security reasons,” Clarke explained. “I’m a soldier and I’ve been ordered to learn how. I’m quite willing to pay for a short course. The house advertising led me to believe they must have competent people hired here.”
Iverson thought about that a little.
“I come on at twelve and we close up here at midnight. It’s a long day on your feet but after we close for the night they come in and clean the dining room and the kitchen finishes cleaning up. I can give you a little lesson after closing. I’d ask twenty dollars Ceres and of course, we have to pay the house for their ingredients.”
Clarke had no experience handling money and was a generous soul. Also, the unaccustomed money in his purse was exciting and he wanted to spend some.
“That seems cheap for your knowledge and extra time on your feet. Allow me to give you forty. The Mothers are paying, not me, and they can well afford it.”
“Ah, a clan Derf not a townie? We don’t get many of those in here. Thank you, tipping your bartender is a long-standing tradition if you are pleased. I’ll take a bonus gladly. Why don’t you grab a low bench for Derf from the dining tables and bring it over to the end of the bar? You stick out blocking the aisle here. You’ll be out of the way there and I’ll come down and talk to you when I get slow times.”
“If it gets that slow perhaps you could fit a partial lesson in early?” Clarke suggested.
“I don’t want to short my employer. But if you want to order a drink, I’ll mix it in front of you, explaining what I’m doing.”
“Marvelous. You aren’t making one now. What might Humans ask me to mix at a fancy dinner party that has a nice buffet?” He screwed his muzzle up thinking. “There might be Derf drinking too.”
“I’ll start you out with a basic Martini,” Iverson said. “Bring the bench over and I’ll have everything down there to do a demonstration. The rule of thumb for the house is to use eight shots of liquor serving Derf for one shot used with Humans.”
Clarke went for the bench. This was going to be fun.
“It isn’t just making the drink,” Iverson explained before touching a bottle. “A good bartender adds some showmanship. You don’t just pour. You pour and pull the bottle away so there is a long stream.” He demonstrated. “The trick is in a snap of the wrist to cut it off. Also, you don’t just shake. You turn it into a little dance as if you really enjoy doing it.”
Clarke could see how that would be amusing.
The crew was vacuuming the carpet in the dining room later and Iverson had just demonstrated a daiquiri. It was almost as good as a julep. Clarke briefly considered having Iverson make one of each again to do another careful sip versus sip comparison between the two to ascertain the truth of the matter. It seemed important.
“I think it’s time to wrap it up, buddy. They’re going to turn the lights out on us pretty soon. I’ll call you a car. Can you make it out to the car OK?”
“Yeth. I-am-perfectly-fine,” Clarke said enunciating each word carefully. He stood to demonstrate that and swayed a little but didn’t fall over. He pulled out the Mother’s credit card and made sure his thumb was on the taste pad. Iverson touched his bar pad to the card, kept a poker face at the total, and got a welcome approval light.
“Stop back and tell me how the party went if you’re in the area,” Iverson invited.
“I’m tharry, that-would-be-a-security-breach,” Clarke assured him.
* * *
“This is strange,” Dakota said. “There are three gentlemen here from Australia, France, and Brazil, and a lady from India, asking an audience with you. They came over unannounced in a private limo and are sitting, awaiting a response at the main entrance at the road terminal. They weren’t pushy at all.”
“One doesn’t usually think of those countries as being closely aligned,” Heather said.
“No kidding, but on the public com they crowded in so I could see all of them on the screen. They are all dressed very formally in the current style with long coats and Ascots like hundreds of years ago. At least they skipped the hats. The lady is in a long tunic and pants set that manages to almost look like a sari. Not a blessed one of them has spex. I checked. All of them are listed on public sites as working with their governments in their foreign services, but none of them are the top guys. They didn’t say anything about security and I didn’t see any behind them. What do you think? Do you want to talk to them?”
“Did one of them seem to be their spox?” Heather asked.
“The Brazilian fellow spoke for them but the first thing he did was introduce the others.”
“Send somebody to bring them down or have somebody up top do it if it isn’t too disruptive. Let them know once you have an idea how long it will be,” Heather decided. “Amy,” Heather raised her voice to be heard in the kitchen. “Get a light lunch and beverages for seven. No, wait. One of them is Gunny, so figure for eight. They are coming down from the surface so be ready to lay it out anywhere from a half-hour to an hour from now.”
“I’m on it,” Amy called back.
“I have Isaac Anosov coming in from Armstrong with a truck,” Dakota said. “He had a high-value cargo that couldn’t be sent on a self-driver. He could park the truck to recover later and escort our guests down on a cart.”
“Ask him if he’d mind doing that,” Heather said. “You can’t get two words out of the man normally, but they don’t need a tour guide. I can think of a few I’d be scared to have drive for them for fear we’d end up at war with all of them.”
“The old Finn, Jaako,” Dakota volunteered as an example.
“Oh, dear God, yes. Even his own brother can’t stand him. Let Isaac know what he’ll be hauling Earthies and ask him to make nice-nice.”
“He says that’s no problem,” Dakota reported in less than a minute. “I’ll call and let the Earthies know he’ll pick them up in about fifteen minutes.”
The delegation was happy to hear they would be received, because their driver wasn’t willing to wait for them, instructing them to hire locally to take them back or call him to come back. Since their governments were picking up the tab, they’d have paid him to wait for several days if necessary. He found his daughter’s tenth birthday more compelling than their necessities or affairs of state.
The tiny public terminal where the road ended had a few benches and some vending machines. The benches looked so fragile to Earth eyes that they sat down carefully, afraid they’d break. They were very springy but nowhere near breaking and surprisingly comfortable once they tried them. They each had a small soft-sided bag in case they needed to stay overnight. They moved them away from where their driver had dumped them by the airlock to the seats. The vending machines had coffee, tea, and chocolate that they expected, but also espresso shots, brandy, and butter at additional cost. The machine to measure your feet and produce custom footies was interesting. Other things made no sense at all. Why would little green tins of Bag Balm to soothe the chapped udders of dairy cows be sold on the Moon? There were bags of something called No-Stink-Um and John’s Helmet-No-Dust. At least they could figure out why those might be useful from the names.
The Australian tapped his card on the pay-port and was offered coffee at A$18.00.
“Is it any good or is it colored water?” the Brazilian asked?
“It’s better than I’m used to at home,” he admitted.
The Brazilian, being from a coffee producing nation was dubious, unaware the Australians grew coffee. They just kept most of it at home rather than export it. He swiped his card on the pay-port and hesitated just a moment at the display. National pride kept him from saying anything aloud. They wanted R$94 for the same cup. He paid but walked back in shock and said nothing. At least he had to admit it was a decent cup of coffee.
Isaac parked his empty truck on the surface lot and made his way in through a private entry for drivers. Dakota had a cart waiting for him and in a few minutes, he pulled up outside the bollards marking off the pedestrian area where the Earthies were waiting.
“I’m your transport to see my sovereign,” Isaac announced. He stayed seated and made no move to help them with their bags. The minister from Brazil set the example for them by grabbing his own bag. That was good because Isaac would have repeated the expression his mother often asked, “Are your arms broken?”
Six people were a snug fit on the two benches. Isaac handed his helmet bag to the rear seat and asked them to put it in the rear box with their luggage. He got underway without any discussion. He didn’t introduce himself or, typically for him, bother to tell them how long their drive with him would be
The French fellow ended up next to Isaac upfront. He looked him over with a quizzical expression. When he spoke, he had that slow methodical way of speaking that said he’d thought over what he wanted to ask and was speaking carefully.
“You are wearing a pressure suit. Did you just get off a spaceship before coming in?”
“No, I just came in from driving a truck to Armstrong. I’m not a pilot. I can’t say it ever appealed to me to try. There are automated trucks running to Armstrong all the time but if cargo is very high value or hazardous it’s always taken by a Human driver. An automated truck is too easy to jack. All you have to do is stand in the road and the AI will stop for you. If it looks like a hijacking I’d switch to manual and drive right over them. It keeps the recipients honest too. I record the unloading and get a signed receipt.”
“What sort of high value cargo needs such extraordinary care?” the Frenchman asked.
“I don’t think my Lady would appreciate my sharing that much of her business with foreigners,” Isaac said.
He wasn’t particularly forceful about it as if it upset him. The French minister just nodded and said that seemed reasonable.
The Indian delegate leaned forward to talk around the Frenchman.
“I’m surprised by your suit. Doesn’t your truck have a pressurized cabin like our car? Our driver didn’t wear a suit and seemed unconcerned for us or himself.”
“Oh sure. You’ll probably ask next how often they fail and lose pressure. The fact is I’ve never heard of any ground vehicle having a catastrophic pressure loss. But I’m a belt and suspenders sort of guy when it comes to vacuum. If we do have a failure, I don’t want them telling future visitors that they never fail, except for that poor devil Isaac Anosov.”
The French fellow laughed. “L'exception qui confirme la règle.”
“Yes, you don’t want that as your epitaph,” Isaac agreed.
If they were surprised he understood French, no one insulted him by saying so.
“A commendable attitude,” the Indian lady said. “On Earth we have hundreds of people perish every year because they trusted their vehicle to cross a desert without extra water or to drive through ice and snow trusting the heater to keep them alive.”
“The Australian spoke from the back seat. “Yes, we still have vast stretches like that in our interior. I wonder though if you Spacers don’t become more cautious, having access to Life Extension Therapies? Do you think it makes you more risk-averse?”
Isaac thought about it a bit before answering.
“I’m assuming none of you have had life extension. We learn to tell the little differences between natural people and gene mod. I understand some Earthies who get illegal modifications dye their hair and there are cremes that actually make wrinkles?”
“That’s true,” the Indian said, “but there are big differences between what is legal in various countries. Some things that are considered normal medical treatments in one country may be illegal gene mods in another. I have been treated to remove family traits that favor heart disease and a tendency to have a rare cancer that is very difficult to treat. But I’d be seen as a monster in North America. I’ve had nothing to change my appearance.”
Isaac nodded. “I figure you have all seen your fortieth birthday. Consider how differently you think about everything now than you did at twenty.”
He paused to let them do that. None of them wanted to comment on that.
“There is a natural progression of one’s thinking with experience. It impacts far more than how much risk you will accept. You get increasingly accurate spotting lies and defective personalities. It’s a shame in natural people that just when those talents are maturing, they start to decline physically. Some as young as in their sixties. That hits them in their cognitive abilities as much as their strength and reaction times. But how much difference do you imagine exists between the thinking and attitudes of a genuinely healthy ninety-year-old or a hundred-and-thirty-year-old person from your forty-some years? Will the difference be more or less than the twenty-year gap you see to your youth?”
Nobody replied but they all looked concerned.
“That’s the gap you’ll be dealing with speaking to my Lady Heather,” Isaac said in case they didn’t get the point clearly.
“May one ask your age?” the Indian was bold enough to ask.
“I’m a youngster. I’ll be eighty-eight in a couple of months,” Isaac said.
“If I saw you at home, I’d judge you to be in the mid to late thirties,” the Frenchman said.
“I have the life extension and extra things like the ability to synthesize my own vitamin C and a few other micro-nutrients internally. I’m a bit stronger and quicker than I was naturally even when young. I passed on the option for a fast metabolism that would require I eat a lot more. You can usually add such things if you decide you need them. It’s like adding accessories to a ground car. I don’t need quite as much sleep as I used to but they have yet to come up with a gene mod to let me breathe vacuum,” Isaac said sadly.
“There are rumors the Chinese have produced Humans with gills who can breathe water,” the Indian said. “It has long been uncomfortable being neighbors with them.”
“It has long been uncomfortable being neighbors with Earth,” Isaac said. “Don’t be surprised if my sovereign is blunt about how uncomfortable. We commonly call it the Slum Ball and worse. I’m just sworn to her, not a peer to be a close confidant, but she holds court and issues statements that make it plain she doesn’t mince words and dance around issues.”
“We rather noticed that with her public releases,” the Brazilian said drolly.
By that time, they were on their first long elevator drop.
“How far are we going down?” the Australian asked.
“Kilometers,” was as precise as Isaac would volunteer.
“Are we there yet?” The French fellow joked in a higher-pitched voice.
“Oh, you have children,” Isaac observed, amused. It was nice they weren’t humorless. “We’ll be there in another twenty minutes or so,” he promised.
* * *
“I got your fusion generator from New Japan yesterday. It was our last out-sourced sub-system to be installed,” Alonso said. “How much did this thing cost that you needed to have armed security deliver it?”
“Near as much as the rest of the vehicle and all the accessories,” Lee answered honestly.
“I should have charged you more,” Alonso decided.
“By the time I want a new one I’ll have some income again and you have my permission to gouge the daylights out of me for it,” Lee invited. “I won’t argue at all.”
“And we’ll make it two-thirds the mass and several times the thrust,” Alonso predicted.
“Did they deliver it fueled up?” Lee asked
“Not tanked up but two liters of four-nines heavy water in a separate carboy. It looks like you could drop it from orbit undamaged. I loaded it up for you.
“Does that mean you have it installed already?”
“All the flanges, mounting holes, and connectors were to spec so that took about a half-hour,” Alonso said. “That’s just what I’ve come to expect with New Japan equipment. You can watch me lift it if you want to keep your dainty little behind safe on the ground or take it up with me riding second. Whenever you can find the time that is.”
“I’m calling a car to come over right now,” Lee informed him.
“I kind of suspected you might,” Alonso said but he was talking to a blank screen.
The first thing Lee noticed when she walked into his office was a Dutch door had been added to the shop area with a sign on the bottom half that declared in large letters – RESTRICTED AREA – NO ENTRY WITHOUT PERMISSION. It was too bad Alonso needed to do that, but she was glad to see it.
“Permission to enter requested!” Lee called loudly through the door.
Alonso was in plain sight. She was just harassing him a bit.
“You aren’t a spy, are you?” he asked. “We grill spies and eat them.”
“Long pig is the English idiom for that,” Lee informed him.
“I knew that. I would teach you English if I had time, instead of that dialect you speak.”
“Is that what you decided to do with the fellow you caught the other day? He didn’t look very appetizing.”
“I followed your advice, but he seemed defective. He had a definite crack up his butt. I decided to spray him with fluorescing green crack finder so nobody would mistakenly install him in anything life-critical.”
“You didn’t,” Lee exclaimed.
“I certainly did,” Alonso insisted. “Magnaflux would hardly have been appropriate.”
“I applaud your sign,” Lee said. “I know it’s solid custom but that removes any question about it being a private area for flaming idiots and spies.”
“I put black and yellow safety tape across the floor at the hangar doors too. It says no trespassing in English and Derf. I won’t go so easy on another invader,” he warned.
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Lee assured him. She put her hands on her hips and turned, regarding the aircar. Alonso wasn’t stupid and figured she was done talking about Sam.
“It was up on a rack last time I was here,” Lee said. “It looks a lot different.”
The car had no landing gear. Instead, the thruster pods on arms swiveled down vertically to suspend the car above the floor. It was much more stable than the way conventional aircraft had gear projecting from beneath the fuselage. It was even better than the skids of a conventional aircar. Right now, it was sitting with a dolly under each pod to allow it to be pushed around.
“Have you tested it at all?” Lee inquired.
“I’ve checked that there is power and data to all the pods and run diagnostics on the computers. That’s just on battery power and they are all charged up. The cabin has been pressure tested to three times Derf standard. You could lift her on battery power alone but just to move around the tarmac. I wouldn’t want to go very high without firing up the generator. The paperwork and manual said it takes about ten minutes to bring the generator up to full power from a dead cold start and that drains a good chunk of the battery reserves heating the core up. I figured to let you have the honors. I’ll instruct you of course.”
“Oh, please. Can we do that now?”
“As soon as I clean and put these tools away,” Alonso said. “Otherwise, you’ll give me no peace. Go pull the office door shut and I’ll be done by the time you return.”
Alonso was cleaning his hands by the time she returned.
“We’ll push her out this first time. It’ll be safer in case we have any control problems.”
He proceeded to lean on the rear with all four arms. Lee helped though he hadn’t asked. It was hard to tell how much she added. Lee suspected she might not be able to move it alone. Alonso didn’t stop until they were thirty meters clear of the building. He turned, phone in hand and ran his overhead doors down to a tiny gap from being closed.
“If the canopy is raised, I can reach in and grab a seat back and swing a leg up and in,” Alonso demonstrated, but didn’t finish the motion. “For humans, there is a foot-well here,” he pointed out. “There’s a take-hold half a meter to either side, just inside the canopy’s seal. I don’t expect you to use it often, but it’s there.”
Lee put a toe in the hole. It was surprisingly deep. She felt and found the take-holds and pulled herself up but like Alonso didn’t swing in.
“That’ll work fine for me,” she agreed.
“We’ll go in the normal way.” He led Lee to the hatch just behind the rear of the canopy. It opened in to his hand and they stopped and set it to Lee’s. He closed it again.
“Now watch. If you need the space inside that it would swing through, you touch this icon.” He did so. The hatch opened again but out. “It’s the same on both sides. On the other hand, you might be right up against something and need it to open in.”
“It doesn’t need the internal pressure holding it?” Lee worried.
“It’s hard to see the lines,” Alonso said tracing them with a finger, “but watch closely. No matter which way it opens it has a toggle in the middle then folds the middle in and narrows the hatch to withdraw it from a groove. It’s very strong and has backup power.”
“OK, I’d have called that a knuckle. It’s quiet too,” she said surprised. “I’d expect it to sound like a bank vault.”
“It’s going to fly as quiet as a twool,” Alonso said. “Why would you want to announce you’ve arrived to the world with a loud slamming door?”
“I’ve never seen a twool,” Lee admitted. “Never heard of one until now.”
“Maybe one person in a hundred has if they do the fall hunt. They don’t come out until deep dusk and a nut eater won’t know one is gliding down on him until he feels the claws. You still won’t hear him, just see him hunting if you’re lucky and paying attention.”
“That’s quiet, given Derf hearing,” Lee admitted. “I think you just named her for me.”
“Heh, that will do just fine,” Alonso agreed. He stepped in, ducking down a bit to fit.
The volume was large for an airlock and unusual in having an exit on both sides and the bottom. Sitting on the ground he couldn’t demonstrate the extendable docking collar. The entry to the flight cabin was a split door that popped out a few centimeters and slid to each side when Alonso palmed the screen. Alonso led Lee to the front seats waving her into the one configured for Humans. He reached up grabbing a handle on the back edge of the canopy and pulled it down as he backed up.
“I won’t be able to reach that,” Lee realized concerned.
“I wasn’t planning on opening it as a regular thing,” Alonso admitted. “I’ll hang a lanyard on it you can reach.”
The canopy did make a soft latching sound when it sealed and he took the other seat.
“Will it lift with the canopy up or are there safety interlocks?” Lee wondered.
“It’s not a consumer device made for idiots,” Alonso assured her. “There are very few things you can’t tell it to do. I assume if you want to turn it upside down, drop the canopy off, and lose any loose luggage and unbelted passengers you must have an urgent need to do so. The airlock is the same with an override to force both hatches open if you wish.”
“Now, note the control board.” He made an exaggerated gesture of releasing a lock and pulling the panel that was mostly screen in closer to him. When it was positioned comfortably, he punched the lock to hold it there. Lee copied it with her board.
When he laid his palm on the screen it came alive.
“This is the screen that will let you cold start your fancy little Japanese reactor. It also shows your battery status, the charge-discharge balance, core temperature, and other power system information. It is the top left of the row of reduced screen icons along the top of your monitor. They are hard to see in detail at that size but they are numbered.
“If you wish to change the order of the screens you must hold the function key in the bottom left of the screen and drag the screen to the place in line you wish it. Would you like to start it powering up?”
“Yes,” Lee agreed tapping the large red start button over a schematic of the reactor. It turned green and said warming. The battery and temperature readouts started changing.
“If you wish to reduce this display to a quarter of the screen to use other screens just touch a corner and swipe it to the center to push it toward that corner.” He demonstrated.
“If you touch other screen icons they will display as quarter screens from this mode. You should be able to fly with four screens or fewer showing. Touch an icon and it will remove that screen to clear a quadrant for another.” He made the screen vanish and reappear.
“Touch a quarter screen edge and you can drag it to a half screen, or half to whole.”
“Screen two shows the top view outline of the vehicle,” he said tapping it. “It shows outside temperature and pressure versus inside and the loading on each pod sitting on the ground in kilograms. The hatch status is shown and can be controlled from here too.
“Screen three auto displays once you lift. It shows the orientation of the car to the vertical and horizon. It will display turn and roll real-time, show rate of climb, or descend, and ground speed by radar or estimated speed out of range from inertial sensors. If you have a local map and GPS it can be run as a background in the perspective you wish.”
“Have you tested the smart paint?” Lee wondered.
“I’ve set it to white, blue, and the current black. You’ll have to set it to anything fancy. It and the controls for it added another six kilos. I’d have skipped it.”
“But it will be pretty,” Lee said smiling.
“It’s pretty in any color but you are the customer,” Alonso acknowledged. “The next screen is com functions. Several systems and diagnostic screens like the paint, and then the far-right icon is celestial navigation. You have to load the program and data for that. I’ve never used any and have no opinions about it.”
“The reactor is up to temperature and idling at five percent to recharge the batteries,” he pointed out. “If you don’t shut it down it will run just enough to keep the core hot. It can do that for a couple of months on a full fuel load. Notice it took a third of your battery charge to start it up.”
“It’s ready to lift then?” Lee asked.
“It is but you aren’t. Put it in flight mode and activate simulation. That will let you try out the stick and the screen will display what the car would do for those commands. Now, I’m going to detail the motions and control buttons on your stick. After you see me do it then you can try it to get the feel before we do it for real.”
It took another hour before Lee was ‘flying’ it.
“I’m going to set the control resistance up a little more. You have a heavy hand,” Alonso accused her. “You can ease it back if you learn some finesse.”
“Can we lift her already?” Lee asked impatiently.
“Yes, but lift to two meters and then lock the altitude by ground radar. That’s the center thumb toggle on the stick,” he reminded her.
“Finally,” Lee said. She set two meters for an altitude limit and pulled up the second screen. With the reactor running and simulation mode not engaged the pods spun up for the first time. There was just enough of a hum that you could feel the car was alive in the seat of your pants. Lee figured Alonso could probably hear it. The front pods showed a bit more weight on them and the corner by Alonso’s seat quite a bit more.
She squeezed the grip on the front of the stick and the numbers started counting down with the pods bearing more weight automatically generating more thrust. When the rear pods lifted clear of the dollies, they swung forward to take more weight. The front pods reached their balance point and shifted slightly too as they left their dollies. The screen switched to flight mode showing the aircar against a bird’s eye map of the airport with the hangar behind them. Slightly more pressure saw the car rise slowly until it reached two meters altitude and the screen informed her that they were at altitude. Lee toggled the lock to hold in that altitude.
Lee was grinning like she’d invented flight.
“We don’t have to announce that we are going to taxi which is what I consider flight at this altitude. Take her around the hangars and parallel to the runway with all due caution. Get the feel of her,” Alonso invited.
Lee looked out to the side and saw the dolly from the near pod.
“We seem to be drifting off location. Why would it do that?”
“You have the altitude set but no location. I imagine the breeze is blowing us along a little bit. That’s something to keep in mind if it’s very stormy,” Alonso said. “It should have a track recording for this flight. You have a menu down the left to retrace it or return directly to zero.”
“Oh, sweet.” She fiddled with the menu and the aircar adjusted the thrusters slightly and eased back over the dollies, turning just a little.
“And I’d have to set it to hold if I don’t want it to drift off again,” Lee said.
“Exactly,” Alonso agreed.
“If I want to move it without dollies, I can set it to a half meter and just push it around.”
“If a big gust of wind doesn’t come up or a plane taxi by. A good blast of prop wash or jet exhaust might have you chasing it,” he said amused at picturing that. “If you ever do that, somebody is almost guaranteed to catch it on video and release it to the public nets.
“OK, I’m going to move around,” Lee declared. She didn’t get too rambunctious. She did turn hard enough coming back to the hangar to make the car lift the outside edge in a bank. Lee didn’t expect that but, “It’s smart enough to lift the outside and not to drag the inside pods,” was her only comment. Back over the dollies Lee just asked, “Can we fly her now?”
“Yes, you are most restrained,” Alonso complimented her. He touched his screen.
“This is Alonso Air. We are testing an experimental vehicle running my transponder code doing a vertical lift and customer orientation flight from the small craft area. We’ll lift to five hundred meters, steer clear of the traffic pattern to the northwest by eyeball and add a climb above notification altitude over the ocean. Advise us of contrary traffic please.”
“Rudy freight flight on approach twenty kilometers out. You’ll be long gone for me.”
“I’m a hobby flier out of your way to the south. Rich man’s toy. Have fun with it.”
“You have no idea,” Alfonso told him.
“Up and that-a-way,” he pointed for Lee. “Try not to run into anything.”