CHAPTER 8 “African Home”
Friday 29 July 2811
After a week under peace officer protection at a safe house, Mom and I boarded a sub-sonic commercial jet to our new home. I’d been hoping for something more exotic like a scramjet or SST but seats on those cost a lot more and ISTRI pinches its pennies even as it spends gazillions. But still it’s exciting and because of the explosion at the burger joint, we’re traveling under assumed names; just like in a spy novel.
As we descended toward Entebbe airport, I searched for a glimpse of the Beanstalk, but as awesome as it is, I couldn’t see it. I scanned the surface of Lake Victoria through breaks in the clouds looking for its anchor ship but I had no idea where to look. Before we touched down I made out a distant island that I thought might be Bulolombe.
A petite woman wearing knee-length shorts and a white short-sleeve buttoned blouse stood inside the terminal holding a hand-lettered sign with, “Barbara & Jeannie,” our cover names.
“Hi, that’s us,” I called to no effect. My voice was drowned out by the hubbub and the public address system. We couldn’t even raise a hand since we were each holding all our carry-on stuff, but in seconds we reached her. The woman was nearly as small as me. She shook our hands vigorously and radiated friendliness as she introduced herself as Celeste Perry.
“¿Captain Celeste Perry?” I asked needlessly.
“At your service, Ensign Ramirez. The entire crew wanted to meet your flight but … well, rank has its privileges.”
My first impression was that the woman was far younger than the 63 years I knew Captain Perry to be, but looking more closely, her face showed signs of hardness and a deep well of experience; especially her eyes.
“Here, let me help you with those. Follow me.”
She took a couple of our bags and led us over to baggage claim where she put down the bags and fetched a large cart from the line of carts in the vending contraption.
“Ensign,” said Captain Perry as we waited for our luggage, “as you may have guessed, I was one of the folk on the selection committee so I know quite a lot about you. I must admit that I’m thrilled to meet you.”
“Captain, I’m the one that’s thrilled. I accessed your bio and got a chance to read it on the plane. I read how you plotted the Synestics intercept in your head and like saved a dozen lives in the process.”
Celeste Perry’s face went suddenly severe. “I lost a crewmember, a good friend in that incident. ¿As for plotting the intercept, would you say a basketball player mathematically plots the path of the ball as he leaps and shoots a goal from 8 meters? I did what I had to do given the damage to our systems. It was experience coupled with massive amounts of luck that any of us survived.”
I felt oddly chastised as Captain Perry turned away, signaling an abrupt end to our conversation in the noisy terminal.
Surprisingly, she turned back with an impish grin. “Speaking of massive amounts of luck, you running into Caleb Stokowski rates pretty high,” she said with a wink.
Captain Perry stepped up close to me; I supposed so mom wouldn’t hear. In a very matter-of-fact tone, she said, “By the time the two of you were having lunch in the zoo, I was reading his restricted file. Caleb is a really good person. By the time you finished the banana, I was reassuring your mom that you were safe and enjoying the day.”
All in the same moment I’m incensed, I’m curious, I’m embarrassed, I’m thinking back to my time with Caleb. ¿And how can she say ‘safe’ when we were almost blown apart by a bomb? I must have completely involuted in my confusion since the next thing I heard was Captain Perry calling to me from over at the baggage carousel, “Ensign. Give us a hand with the luggage.”
I worked at being in the here and now: in the Entebbe airport terminal baggage claim area – claiming baggage. Yes, that bag. No, not those two. Yes, this bag. I picked it up, carried it over, and put in on the cart. I went back for another. I saw another one of our bags. Mom pointed it out to Captain Perry. No others were in sight. I helped mom count the bags. We had all of them. I got behind the cart, took hold of the bar, pushed the control to get it moving, and steered it toward the door.
“Hold it. We want to go back this way,” Captain Perry called out from behind me. The cart dragged me with my shoes sliding on the tile for a moment before it stopped. “We’re going out to the Project V-TOL on the tarmac.”
The trouble with being in the here and now is failing to anticipate the obvious future. Bulolombe is an island; we can’t get there by street pod.
“¿Veetoll?” Mom asked.
“Mom, that’s V–T–O–L for Vertical Take Off and Landing. In other words, it’s a helicopter.”
As mom, Captain Perry, and I rolled the cart outside into the bright sunshine, I noted that the temperature was very pleasant – probably about 22°. That seemed odd. Here we are in the middle of Africa and it’s cooler during the day than at our home in northern North America.
“Captain Perry, I expected it to be a lot warmer here – like a tropical rain forest maybe.”
“Most people do, you know; being central Africa and all. But we’re on the equator so our days never get as long as at other latitudes. And we are up about a kilometer above sea level, which helps. July is our driest month. This last April I thought it would never stop raining. We get about a meter of rain every year; not as much as some places; more than others.”
We reached her V-TOL with its long drooping rotors and loaded the bags in through a back hatch. Captain Perry helped mom into the back-middle seat and motioned for me to take the copilot’s position.
“You’ve ridden in copters before?”
“Yes, but none like so small as a 5-seater.”
With a slight whining sound, the rotors began turning and gathering speed. Captain Perry consulted the control panel.
“I see you have more weight in luggage than I guessed, so I’m going to shift the batteries another 10 centimeters forward. Well, actually, I’m not telling the controller to do that. The controller told me it is already doing that … done that. OK, Estrella. Here’s your chance to fly a V-TOL. Just like a street pod. Give our destination as Bulolombe FSA.”
I looked at her a bit incredulously and then examined the control panel in front of me. One of the displays was indeed is just like a pod map. “Bulolombe FSA,” I called out over the crescendo of the spinning rotors. The map zoomed out until I could see Bulolombe off to the East and then it zoomed in on the island until a red circle surrounded a V-TOL symbol. I tapped the symbol and the circle instantaneously turned green.
“OK, now press the green button below the map.”
As soon as I did, the rotors accelerated more rapidly and three seconds later we were in the air and quickly gaining altitude. “What now?” I shouted over the noise.
“If the controller wants your input, it will flash a blue light. If something is out of its comfort zone, it will flash a yellow light.”
“¿And if there is a major problem?”
“Then the controller flashes a red light and yells, ‘Oh shit!’”
Bulolombe grew ever larger and more distinct.
“¿Can we see the Beanstalk from here?” I asked.
“Not the Beanstalk itself, of course, but if you look on the far side and a little to the right of Bulolombe you might pick out an orange dot. That’s the Anchor Ship.”
I could see it but as she said, it was no more than a dot – hardly what I expected.
“I’ve scheduled a tour for the two of you leaving at ten hundred hours tomorrow. Figured you’d want to see it up close. It is pretty amazing.”
With a brighter tone to her voice, she said, “Hey. ¿How would you like to fly this thing for real? The controller won’t let you crash it.”
“Okay, if you think I could.”
“Sure. First, put your I.D. against the sensor.”
I put the back of my hand against the sensor and then back on my lap.
“I’ll open a toy for you. ¿Which would you prefer, right hand or left?”
“Right hand, Captain.”
“All right. Put your right hand on your head.”
This seemed like a pretty silly way to fly a copter, but I did as told. The front half of my right armrest rapidly flipped open and a toy copter – sans rotors – popped up mounted on a rod that protruded from a slot running fore and aft. I was thinking this might be some kind of a joke but in a straight voice Captain Perry told me, “OK, Ensign, grab the toy copter and pull it back so that you can hold it comfortably with your forearm on the armrest.”
As I did so, she coached me in adjusting the armrest higher and closer until she was satisfied. “¿Comfy?”
“I could go to sleep like this.”
“OK, now with your left hand pull back that lever that’s blinking on the panel and clamps will immobilize your arm.”
That sounded overly drastic, but I pulled the lever back. Curved black straps appeared, circled my right arm from elbow to wrist, and tightened just hard enough to hold my upper arm securely on the armrest.
“When I give control to you, the way you move the toy will be replicated by the controller to the extent it’s deemed safe. First I’m going to stop our forward velocity.”
The nose tipped up and in a few seconds the copter leveled itself and the airspeed indicator sat at zero.
“Be sure you’re not pushing, pulling, or twisting the toy and I’ll give the copter to you.”
I felt the sweat on my right palm as I held the toy. “OK, Captain. I’m ready.”
The next few seconds elicited screams from mom and wide-eyed terror from me. The copter twisted this way and that, shot upward, then nosed straight down and twisted to the right. I’d begun to think that Captain Perry was a suicidal maniac. I gave up and let go the toy. Immediately we were level and steady.
“Not bad,” Captain Perry said calmly. “In my first attempt I got us completely upside down. We were never in any danger. The controller saw to that. So now you have an idea how sensitive the toy is. ¿Are you ready for Round Two?”
“Give me … a few … more seconds.”
“When you’re ready.”
I took a few breaths, turned back to mom, who was a few shades paler than normal, and asked, “¿You alright, mom?”
“A little more gently, please dear.”
“Ready, Captain.” I moved my hand carefully to the toy and when my forefinger bumped the toy, it felt as though a giant had thumped the copter. I took the next few seconds touching the toy from different sides without grabbing it. The response of the copter was uncanny. I then carefully enveloped the toy with my fingers and the copter twisted a bit one way and another before settling down. Soon I could bend it to my will to drift right and left and rotate and go up and down with only a few “Whoops.”
“¿Captain, how do we go anywhere? We don’t have any forward velocity.”
“OK. It will respond differently with some airspeed. At hover you can creep forward, sideways, backward, rotate, et cetera. But with speed, it will bank and turn to take the heading you point to.”
“Got it, Captain.”
“OK, Estrella. Below the map screen is a velocity slider. Slowly move the slider to 20 kilometers.”
As I moved the slider with my left hand, the copter’s nose tipped down slightly for a couple of seconds before tipping back a bit. The airspeed indicator registered 20 km/hr.
“Now move it quickly to 120 kilometers.”
As I did, the copter’s nose tipped almost straight down as the electric motor screamed and I was forced deep into the cushioned seat. The nose just as suddenly tipped back up, the motor noise ebbed, and the airspeed indicator read 120 km/hr.
“Now turn the toy so that we are pointed at the column of smoke at about 10 o’clock.”
Chastened from my earlier over-corrections, I gently applied a tiny amount of torque to the toy. The copter responded by banking ever so slightly toward the left and the column of smoke gradually moved to the center of the windshield. The copter pitched and gyrated a bit as I tried to make it level while pointing at the smoke.
“Ensign Ramirez,” said the Captain, “you catch on quickly; very quickly. Nice work. Now I’d like you to ….”
She was interrupted by a beep and flashing blue lights. Captain Perry said loudly, “Tango Papa, what’s up.”
From the speakers came, “Course correction needed to reach destination and to avoid other aircraft clearance envelopes. ¿Shall I take control?”
“Negative, Tango Papa. ¿Time to Yellow?”
“Eighteen seconds,” responded the controller.
“Ensign, put us back on course to Bulolombe.”
The copter smoothly banked, and the tilted horizon began to rotate. When Bulolombe approached the center of the windshield, the copter leveled at just a couple of degrees further than intended. The strange thing is that I had little sensation that I was doing the steering; it was more like the copter responded to my intentions.
“I’m impressed,” said Captain Perry. “Tango Papa, same destination. Resume control.” The straps released my arm and the toy copter was swallowed up by the armrest. Nearly every muscle in my body noticeably relaxed.
Bulolombe’s beauty struck me as we descended toward the ISTRI base. The island is just a few kilometers across but there are green fields, forests, azure coves, smooth beaches, steep rocky cliffs, hillsides abloom with wildflowers, and little settlements with metal roofed buildings. And then we approached large hangars, squat buildings, and an airstrip. Tango Papa went straight to a V-TOL pad and landed.
The moment we settled in the middle of the V-TOL pad, Captain Perry praised, “Perfect landing, Ramirez. Be sure to enter this flight in your logbook.”
Immediately a truck drove up with two women in the cab and two on the flatbed. It stopped next to mom and me as we stepped down to the concrete. All four of the women mobbed me with hugs. I may have been the shortest but not by much. With Captain Perry, we were the entire complement of the ISTRI starship crew – not counting the frozen zygotes.
With mom, Captain Perry, and I sitting in the cab and the four others and luggage on the flatbed, we drove past hangars, street pods, warehouses, office buildings, huge trucks hauling odd-shaped loads, antenna arrays, living quarters, pedestrians, a fire station, a gymnasium, and a store that had signs advertising all sorts of things. Captain Perry must have noticed me turn to read the signs. “We call that the Post Exchange, PX for short. It’s a modern version of a General Store you see in cowboy movies.”
We left the flat area with all the buildings and started up a narrow, paved road that led to several cream-colored stucco houses scattered here and there on the verdant hillside overlooking the ISTRI complex. Each had a blue corrugated metal roof. Captain Perry stopped the truck on the road next to, and somewhat above, one of the houses. The women in back jumped to the road as they continued to argue about something – I think it had to do with orbits. While continuing to debate, each took some of our luggage down the garden steps to the house – our new home.
The house was spotless with shiny wood floors and shiny white mostly bare walls. Large windows in the main room took advantage of the view facing south across the FSA complex and out onto Lake Victoria. I stepped into the bedrooms and noted they also had large windows facing south. There was no comparison to be made with our flat in Sagerston. This was heavenly.
Mom called from the kitchen, “Everything is stocked with food! We’ve got a full pantry, a full refrigerator, and full cupboards. ¿May I invite all of you to stay a bit? I’ll heat water for tea and open a tin of biscuits.”
The orbital debate suddenly ceased, and several voices called out, “Sure,” and “Let me give you a hand.”
I took the opportunity to use the bathroom and wipe my face with a soapy washcloth. When I rejoined the rest, they had already set out saucers, teacups, spoons, sugar, and milk on the little tables next to the couch and chairs that faced the large windows.
Captain Perry and mom came out of the kitchen with tea and biscuits, everyone took a seat, and the four other crewmembers spontaneously introduced themselves. Flight Officer Danika Johansson is the closest to me in age and has beautiful dark chocolate skin. Her head was shaved leaving less than half a centimeter of hair. First Lieutenant Sitara Ramachandran is seriously muscular and a bit younger than Captain Perry. Her straight, shiny hair was short enough that her dangling earrings stood out. Flight Officer Lo Xingxing is stunningly beautiful and appears to be undiluted Han Chinese. She had her hair tied back in a pony tail that nicely set off her pale skin an almond eyes. Second Lieutenant Hvezda Dubček’s face is broad and she has a flat top crew cut dyed pure white.
When Hvezda introduced herself, there was none of the feeling of open friendliness that the others conveyed. I took a mental note of that and expected to learn what was behind her demeanor in due time. Then it struck me, I would have a lifetime to become familiar with these five women.
“All of you seem to be different ages,” mom commented.
“Oh, that’s part of the project’s strategy,” Xingxing explained. “The plan is for the crew to give birth to a new girl every eight to ten years. That way there would always be several of childbearing age. If there were only one or two women capable of carrying a baby and they were eliminated by an accident, the project could resort to using an artificial womb. But that would offend half the people on Earth.”
“More generally,” Sitara added, “nearly every component of the Project – engines, radio equipment, computers, life support, living quarters, and so forth – is triply redundant, and that includes the crew. Fuel is the one big exception – it’s too heavy to carry an extra supply so it’s as well-protected as the engineers can manage.”
“Wait until you see the Nursery Module,” Danika offered. “It’s got like everything a mother and baby could want and way pretty. Oh, except for a stroller. There’s no place to stroll to.”
Mom looked concerned. “¿You mean you women will be in separate living quarters and unable to visit each other?”
Danika responded, “No way. Our three living modules will like be attached to each other at least some of the time. Even when they’re separated, an infant can be carried along if needed.”
“Estrella,” said Xingxing, “tell us about the bombing and about your new boyfriend.”
“Uh, I’ll tell you about the bombing; I’m not like ready to talk about Caleb just yet. But Captain Perry, you told my mom that I was safe some hours before we were like almost killed by that bomb blast. The bomb must have been a surprise to you and to ISTRI.”
“Well, yes and no,” Captain Perry answered. “Security knew about the drone and had succeeded in partially hacking into its controls to the extent they could detonate it at any time. The report I read said they were hoping to locate and apprehend the person controlling the drone. They were still making progress on that when the two of you stepped out of Tom’s Turkey Burgers. You ducked back toward the restaurant so quickly that Security figured the drone controller would abort the attack. Instead the drone executed a sharp turn to follow you through the door. Security detonated it before it reached you. Another half second and there would likely have been casualties. So no, you were not as safe as we had hoped but we – or rather, Security – knew about the drone.”
“Well, we spotted one the Security guys following us from the zoo.”
“No. I know who you’re talking about. We saw him also, but Security wasn’t using people. They used insect bots to keep tabs on you. Unfortunately, they were destroyed in the explosion, so we lost all track of you two until you were seen in the Green Manor subway station. How the hell you got there without Security detecting you is a mystery we’d like you to explain.”
“Well, Caleb worked at SportPavilion last Christmas break. He was like handling incoming stock and outgoing recyclables and trash, so he knew how to get us away from there by Service Train.”
“Sweet,” responded Danika.
“¿Who’s trying to kill me?”
“That is a story for another day,” Captain Perry replied. “OK, crew, it’s about time we took our leave so Ensign and Mrs. Ramirez can unpack, get set up, and get some rest. They’re going on the Beanstalk tour tomorrow morning. Ensign, one of the crew will pick the two of you up here at ten hundred hours.” And then to the rest, “Let’s go.”
Everyone ignored mom’s request to leave the teacups where they were and took everything into the kitchen. I caught Hvezda looking my way – a glare, actually – before she quickly turned and walked out. I realized that she had said nothing after introducing herself.
Captain Perry turned to mom and me, “Remember, do not even open your email until after the official announcement that you’ve joined the project. Opening an email will give away your location and we don’t want that until the publicity staff is ready.” She then turned and ascended the steps to the road.
Danika and Xingxing grabbed several more biscuits from the tin, dashed up the walkway to the truck, and then my crewmates were gone. Mom came over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “They are nice people. It’s going to be all right.”