The Captain sat at the helm and Jerry, next to him, manned the navigation controls. The ship was a small cargo ship designed for a skeleton crew and short jumps. Comfort was not part of that design, which was evident by the lack of soft spaces to sit or rest. Adding to the lack of comfort, the lighting was cold, and there was an annoying clicking that would come and go randomly, putting Jerry ill at ease every time he had he had settled in. If Jerry had not known better, he would have thought he was on a dilapidated robot ship.
At first, Jerry was not sure he would remember how to program the formulas into the navigation controls, and that fear had been tearing him apart in the pit of his stomach ever since De-El had suggested his plan. Fortunately, it all came back to him pretty quickly. In very little time he had programmed the ship for a slow ramp up to jump speed, and was now working on the calculations for the jump itself.
Making jump calculations was not that difficult once you wrapped your head around the basic principles. It was all about finding the most efficient possible bends in space time, and encouraging those bends with your energy output. As a child, Jerry had struggled with the concept of a malleable space time, but as he grew older…
•
And so much for any momentum we built up in the last scene. We now let it dissipate as we settle down to learn about the nature of time and space, and how impossibly large distances can be traveled if only we ignore the facts of settled science and instead embrace our deepest wishes. Of course we are willing to accept that some miracle has allowed us to travel faster than the speed of light, if only because a good space story would be helpless without it. Unfortunately, our willingness is not enough to propel us back into the action, and justifications abound. We create facts to fit our story, and do so with a vengeance.
Basically, we learn that ships in this world use energy to create wormholes that allow the ships to cover vast distances in short periods of time. It is not an uncommon theme in science fiction, so as sophisticated readers, we can accept this as fact and move on past the proof and derivations that bog us down in the mire of justifications that form the ether in which so many space stories live. With a better understanding of how this improbably efficient travel works, we can resume the observance of our hero as he attempts to put it into practice.
•
As Jerry moved into the last portion of his jump calculations, something showed up on his viewer. “Captain, I’m seeing something on my screen. It looks to be an approaching ship.”
“I see it too, Doctor. Do you have the jump calcs yet?”
“Almost.”
“Well, get it done, Doctor. I’ll deal with the company.”
Jerry had never been very good under pressure, and as a result, had started to fumble around. He began to question each function, each keystroke. He became convinced that his calculations would lead them nowhere near Alpha Centauri, and could not even begin to guess where they might end up as an alternative. He tried to calm himself down, but he could only imagine the pressure the Captain was under, and his own pressure rose with it.
The Captain, on the other hand, was the picture of calm under pressure. He was in his element and completely focused on his game. He entered some numbers on his keypad and stared at the screen. “I think it’s your Tru-bots, Doctor. Better get those calcs done fast.”
It was the last thing Jerry needed to hear. But with a false veneer of calm, and only a modest shaking in his voice, he said, “I’m working as fast as I can.”
The Captain programmed some evasive maneuvers into his keypad, even though he knew it would be no use. Once these guys got close, you had three choices: fight, surrender, or jump. He knew he didn’t have the firepower to match a security ship, and as far as he was concerned, surrender was never an option. Meanwhile, they were getting closer.
Jerry looked up and saw them approaching on the screen, and the distraction made him feel even worse. He quickly put his head down and tried to focus on his work. Jump calculations were delicate, especially for a novice like Jerry, and he knew if he screwed it up, which he was more and more convinced he would, they could end up hundreds of light years off course, or worse yet, in the middle of a star.
As he worked feverishly, their so called company pulled up close and requested communication. The Captain was uncharacteristically slow in answering, in the hope of buying some time. When at last the Captain opened communications, the strangers wasted no time in issuing their first demand.
“By the authority of the Consortium Central Security subdivision Truancy Enforcement, we demand you allow us to board and search your ship.”
Sweat dripped down Jerry’s brow as he manically worked to prepare the ship for a high speed getaway. Meanwhile, the Captain put on his game face and addressed the other ship. “Good day, gentlebots. I hear and make note of your request. Unfortunately, I’m afraid I am not the owner of this ship, and I am under strict orders by my superiors to let no one board without a 764c2.” He turned to Jerry, his back to the vid-screen, and winked. Turning back he finished his request with, “Once I have received and approved the form, you may begin your search.”
The Tru-bots, for that was of course who they were, held a private conference out of view of the screen. When they came back, the first one said, “We will board without the form. Please prepare your ship to receive us.”
The Captain turned back to Jerry to check on his progress. Seeing that Jerry was still working feverishly, he smiled and turn back to the Tru-bots. “I’m sorry,” he replied. “This ship is chartered from within the Gamma Alpha Confederacy, and we are not subject to Consortium Central Security without proper authorization.”
“All ships are subject to Consortium Central Security. Prepare to be boarded.”
The Captain shot a quick glance at Jerry, and began to show some frustration. His back to the vid-screen, he said, “You do know how to do this, right?” and without waiting for a reply, hid his anger and turned back to to the Tru-bots.
“I really am sorry about this,” he continued. “As I said, it’s only because my superiors will have my head, and I really need this job. It’s not a big deal though. Just give me the 764c2 and I’ll open right up. If you’re who you say you are that shouldn’t be a problem.”
The Tru-bots conversed with each other for a moment before continuing. “The form you ask for will require approval from Consortium Central Security, and we do not wish to trouble them for such a minor matter. Prepare to be boarded.”
“But you said you were Consortium Central Security.”
“We are not Consortium Central Security. We carry the authority of Consortium Central Security subdivision Truancy Enforcement.”
“I’m sorry,” said the Captain, “but I need that form. I’m sorry to be such a stickler, but I’m under very clear orders.”
The Tru-bots conferred with each other again. “We will contact Consortium Central Security. Please stand by.”
For Jerry and the Captain, however, standing by was not to be. Jerry had, at long last, finished his calculations. For better or ill, they were as ready to travel as they were ever going to be, and the Captain gave Jerry the signal. While the Tru-bots contacted Consortium Central Security, the Captain’s ship disappeared into a wormhole of Jerry’s making and, 300 light years from their pursuers, moved into deceleration mode.
•
While Jerry and the Captain decelerate gracefully, we will be yanked with a sharpness comparable with a rabbit chasing dog getting to the end of its chain. Or better yet, we are a car speeding along happily, slowing down a bit as we approach a traffic light that has just turned green, when we are suddenly hit sidelong by a 52 foot truck at highway speed.
We come to rest upside down in a ditch off the side the road in front of a truck stop, snow blowing up into a hole in the broken passenger side window. Today’s special: politics.
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