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More from technologyfurs
This is a cool story made by 
roadrodent
I post this here on suggestion from
YiorYeosa
A man gets a custom computer program from a friend which leads him to a very unexpected happanstance.
Story and characters © roadrodent .
"Note: For those who may be interested in knowing where the aircraft name and nose art came from you can find both on this YouTube video."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzy1RNJBUo4
The Call
"Good meal, Shawn," the young man said.
"Thanks. Thought I'd go all out this time. Don't get to show off my cooking skills that often," Shawn replied.
"Being in the Marines having something to do with that?" Vincent grinned.
"Yup. The rations are meant to keep you alive and operating. Any real taste is purely accidental!"
The two chuckled at the old military truism
"Well, at least you got something out of your stint other than sore feet," Vincent pointed out.
"Computer troubleshooting, repair, and operations, basic and advanced," Shawn stated. "There are times that I think the computer is getting wayyyyy too deep into our lives! Too much depending on it...them operating."
"Don't be too ungrateful. They do help pay the bills for each of us."
"True. Still, I wonder if we're going to get so dependent on them that they may become the new....'gods' that we 'worship' at some time in the future."
"Hmmm, 'gods' of our own making," Vincent mused. "And the Net as...'Heaven'? 'Hell'?"
"Likely both yet neither. Guess that depends on one's point of view. Seems most folks see it a kind of oracle these days."
Shawn saw his friend reach into a pocket and pull out a jewel case holding three mini discs and place it on the table.
"Speaking of oracles..."
He slid the case over to Shawn.
"...that's a custom search program I just put together. I'd like you to try it and see what you think of it," Vincent said.
"Trying to outdo the other mega search engines?" questioned Shawn, picking up the plastic case.
"This goes beyond their normal and advanced stuff. It can be spot customized to look for particular stuff, set to ignore parts you're not interested in, plus you can set up a priority to rank what is found so you can see the more interesting stuff at the top of the list. The search can be as vague or detailed as you wish. You can set up as many specifications as you want. Build a search in a few minutes or take months to set one up, if you want," Vincent informed his friend.
"Kind of like 'weaving' a magic spell. Simple ones you do quick, complicated and more powerful ones taking up more time and effort," said Shawn, turning the disc case over in his hands.
"Your fantasy role playing is showing," commented Vincent.
"Keeps me for white siding from all the electron chasing I do."
Not surprisingly Shawn tried his friend's new program out on predicting market trends so he could invest better. After a couple of months of trial and error, tests and refinements, he got down to doing things for real. The results were pleasing, more than pleasing. Big things were brewing in so many industries these days and the program "saw" an astonishing number of them coming. As the successes mounted up Shawn got more daring in his investments and after more than a year the money really started rolling in. He was so successful he got a couple of visits from the SEC (Securities and Exchange Commission) people. In two years Shawn had built up such a fortune that he was almost embarrassed, almost. He wanted to share his wealth with Vincent but the programmer could not be found. It was as if he had vanished into thin air.
After putting his bags in the RV Shawn went back to the house and to his computer den. The system had "grown" over the last five years. Multiple processors, several monitors varying from 20 inch to 68 inches, a dozen Net access lines of the highest speed, and over a hundred terabytes of data storage. The room was shielded from outside wireless signals by layers of well-grounded copper mesh. One of his friends referred to it as his "data spider web from hell". Seating himself Shawn called up his special search program and tapped into a file there. He had been working on this search request for eight months in preparation of having it done while on his vacation. After one last check he tapped the ENTER key, left the room and house, and drove off.
"It's an impossible search," he told himself as he got onto the highway. "But it will keep the system busy while I'm gone."
Back at the house:
"Find, collect, correlate, and store all data for the planning and construction of a working faster-then-light starship. Parameters are...." were the words on the 30 inch monitor screen.
Four weeks later Shawn returned home. Once he had put away his stuff he went to his data room...and was astonished then awed at what was waiting for him there.
After working six fifteen hour days to further organize, sort out, match up, and study the collected data Shawn sat back in quiet awe.
"I'll be switched!" he thought.
Shawn researched a number of specialized fabricating companies then consulted with various ones to do the work he desired. His insistence of quality and precision drove the costs up but he had already factored that in and had the money to cover all of it. More than a few people in these places speculated as to what they were making was for as all of them were making parts for a whole machine(s) but never all the pieces for the entire assembly. The work took nearly a year.
Groom Airfield, somewhere, isolated, in Nevada
"The hanger was used to house an airship that the Air Force experimented with as an air bourn detection and command and control center that could stay up a lot longer than the AWACS planes," explained the official.
Looking around the place Shawn was impressed! The interior measured more the 900 feet long with a floor level width of 287 feet. The straight up side walls were 98 feet high with the roof being a curved Quonset hut shape with the top reaching a little over 120 feet in overall height. Lines of offices, workshops, and storage rooms run down the length of the structure on both sides.
"I'm surprised that this place hasn't been leased by some warehousing outfit," commented Shawn.
"We tried to get them interested but were told that this place is too far from main access highways to be really useful," said the realty agent.
After finishing the tour the two stopped on a second floor outside stair landing and surveyed the airfield.
"One 26,000 foot long runway plus a main runway that is 38,000 feet long, both 180 feet wide. And both of them plus the taxiways and parking stands engineered to handle up 900 tons of weight," Shawn mused out loud.
"Yes. They seriously overbuilt them," commented the agent.
"I'll need it. The experimental aircraft I have planned is a heavy lift carrier designed for very high altitude cruising. It's not going to be small or a light weight," Shawn said.
He turned to the agent.
"Let's get the paperwork signed," Shawn said.
A week later the last of Shawn's equipment arrived at the hanger and he got to work getting things set up. The first thing that needed to be done was to do highly precise measurements of the main area. Once that was accomplished he began laying out and setting up the robots that would do the work of assembling his aircraft. Others machines, furnaces, shapers, filament drawers, etc., were set up in the adjoining side structures. All of this, plus the initial testing and fine tuning, took several weeks. The only human on this project was Shawn himself as all his "helpers" were robots.
Four months later:
"You have quite an ambitious project here," stated the Transportation safety inspector.
"There's an old saying that goes 'If you're going to do it do it big!'," replied Shawn. "I'm building a heavy cargo carrier to transport at least twice the load of anything else currently available at any altitude up to 80,000 feet and do it at the low to mid transonic* range of speeds over land and, where permitted, at supersonic speeds over the oceans, and to do it with high degree of efficiency in fuel usage."
The inspector looked around the huge hanger bay and was quite impressed by the number of robots working around and on the great airframe taking shape in their midst. He did note the absence of one thing.
"Isn't there anyone else working here other than you and these robots?" asked the inspector.
"Nope, just me and them," answered Shawn.
Seeing the questioning expression on the inspector's face Shawn chose to elaborate.
"Robots are precise in their work, don't require lunch or any other breaks, they can break down now and then but are easier to 'doctor' then humans. And they excel in one other thing over humans."
"What's that?"
"They don't talk, therefore my trade and industrial secrets remain that way."
The inspector nodded.
"Have you any real idea when you'll make your first test flight?" he asked.
"September 8 is the date, come Hell or high water," Shawn responded.
The inspector nodded. For what he and some others had in mind the timing was about perfect.
8 September:
"Groom Field tower, this is Twilight, ready to roll out, taxi instructions, please."
"Twilight, you are cleared to taxi to main runway. Wind is from the north at nine miles per hour, gusting to sixteen. Use south end for takeoff,” instructed the tower controller, Chris.
"How's the airspace looking?"
"All clear. As per your flight request you have unlimited altitude and unlimited sky.
"Thanks tower."
The tower controller picked up a set of binoculars and put them to his eyes.
"Now, let's see what this new plane looks like," he said to himself.
The doors of the huge hanger moved aside with surprising speed. In less than one minute both ends were fully open...and the Twilight rolled out.
"Whoa! That thing's a monster!" Chris said.
As the giant emerged he saw that about 40 feet of each wingtip was folded up, angled inwards some 20 degrees. Once clear of the doors the ends deployed out and down and locked into place.
There were four large pods, two hanging under each wing, that looked like external fuel tanks
"It looks like the old British Avro Vulcan bomber on serious steroids!" Chris thought.
As he looked the craft over it struck him that there was something odd about it, something that wasn't right for a normal aircraft.
"RINGGGG!"
Chris snatched up the noisy phone, his eyes still on the rolling giant.
"Tower, go ahead."
"Tower! This is main gate! I've got a convey of government vehicles coming through!"
A second phone chimed and Chris grabbed it.
"Tower, go ahead."
"This is gate two! There's a whole wad of FAA**, FBI, and other vehicles tearing through here and going for the airfield! Hell! I've even had three news vans come through!"
"Roger, understand," the controller said and hung up.
Shifting his binoculars he saw a long line of vehicles racing for the runways. A couple split off and came towards the tower.
"Get the cameras set up!" yelled the reporter. "I want the satellite link up now!"
The news van's tech. crew scrambled to get on the air fast!
"And patch in to the tower frequency as soon as you can!"
Shawn spotted the SUV's and vans tearing across the field. Some were already pulling onto the main runway's halfway point and stopping.
"So, it's going to be that way," he murmured to himself.
The two men presented their identification to the tower guard and he let them in. Reaching the top they repeated the procedure with Chris.
"You are to order...." started the senior FAA agent.
"Twilight, this is Groom Field tower. Your flight plan has been cancelled and permission for takeoff revoked by the FAA. Please park your aircraft where it is, shut off your engines, and exit the plane."
There was no response as the delta winged plane approached the end of the main runway. When it got there Chris noted that the pilot went as far as possible to the end before turning to face north.
"That's not a good sign," he thought.
As the aircraft pivoted onto the runway two panels dropped off the right and left sides of the nose, revealing something. The name "Twilight" was painted in large black letters on both sides of the nose. The letters had silver linings around them and there were stars "twinkling" in each of them. Above the letters was a young woman dressed in a blood red, except for the white tail, wrist cuffs, collar, and stockings, Playboy bunny outfit. Her shoulder length hair was as red as her costume. She stood, crouched, surfing on a black bladed sword that was just clearing some waves of water.
"Interesting nose art," Chris commented.
"Relay the stop orders to him again!" commanded the FAA agent.
"Twilight this is Groom Field tower. I repeat, you are ordered by the FAA to shut down and exit your aircraft."
There were several seconds of silence, then....
"Tower controller, have you ever heard of a 'Call to Glory' moment?"
Pause.
"Can't say that I have," came the reply.
"Many years ago my dad's dad told me about folks getting such an event...moment in their lives. 'If you get through it will be the most intense and satisfying happening of your life!' he said. 'The catch is that if you go for it you're putting everything, including your life, on the line. Easiest and safest thing to do is to back off, avoid it, and let it pass you by.'."
Pause.
"Did he ever get one?" asked the tower.
"Yes."
Quiet.
"And...?"
"He said he always regretted that he didn't grab hold of it."
Silence.
"Tower? Unlimited altitude? Unlimited sky?"
Pause.
"Twilight. You have unlimited altitude. You have unlimited sky!" tower responded.
"What's that mean?" one network tech. asked his friend.
"It's an old aviation term meaning that you can go as far and as high as you want!" the other answered.
"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" demanded one FAA official.
The tower controller's eyes stayed locked on to the aircraft.
"Mister. Get a clue!" Chris said.
Shawn slammed the throttles wide open.
"Things are still at a standoff here," the reporter, his back to the aircraft, stated to his viewers. "We've heard some unusual..."
The camera caught and sent out the sight of four white cored columns of bright electric blue, better the half the length of the plane, erupting from the Twilight's engine nozzles.
"...chatter between the tower and the aircrew..."
The sound wave hit!
"Good Lord!" Chris exclaimed.
Even with all the vibration proofing the floor rattled under his feet.
"Brake release," Shawn radioed.
"The noise is incredible!" one journalist hollered to millions of viewers. "Everything is shaking!"
She saw the plane start rolling forward.
"The aircraft is moving! This pilot is going for it!"
"Tower, Twilight on takeoff roll," Shawn said, unnecessarily.
"He's insane!" stated one of the FAA agents.
"He might be," Chris replied, watching the plane gather speed.
As the engine gauges topped out in their green zones fingertips lifted four stop levers and the throttles were pushed farther forward. The gauges went into their yellow zones as they headed for the red lines.
Chris glanced it the runway speed radar.
"At 277 mph in about 5000 ft. of runway! I'm impressed!" he thought.
The line of vehicles grew as he raced towards them. Shawn tapped his throttles up some more. The horizon sank downwards.
"Nose gear rotation!" he called as the nose gear lifted off the surface.
"This is amazing!" shouted a reporter into his mic. "He just might make it!!"
"Come on honey! You can do it!" Shawn encouraged his creation.
"Run!" several people on the vehicle barricade yelled. The command wasn't needed. Everyone was already dashing to get out of the way!
"This is going to be close!!" another journalist yelled.
Half the cameras zoomed in on the barrier, the other half continued to follow the plane.
"Main gears breaking ground!" the pilot told the tower.
He braced for the hit.
"He's gone," Chris said to himself.
When the awaited shock of collision didn't come, Shawn let himself start to breathe again.
Over the years those who reviewed the videos would argue over whether the Twilight's main gear wheels cleared the vehicle tops by less than three feet or by more than three feet.
As the landing gears folded into their wheel wells the Twilight pointed her nose straight up and clawed for altitude.
"He'll have to come down somewhere, sometime," stated the FAA agent. "We'll pick him up then."
Chris shook his head.
"You still don't get it, do you?" he said.
"Get what?!" the second FAA man demanded.
"Here, let me show you."
He rewound the tower videos to where the Twilight had just cleared its hanger then paused it. The frozen view was of the front of the plane.
"Tell me what you see or, more to the point, what you don't see," Chris said.
The two looked at the image, and one saw something.
"Hey! There are no air intakes!"
"What?! Are you sure?!"
"Look for yourself! Nothing along the leading edges of the wings, or on the underside, or at the top!"
They spent some more time looking the aircraft over then turned to a grinning Chris.
"You're not dealing with a jet. That thing is a rocket ship!"
He looked at the radar displays and saw Shawn's ship passing the 78 mile altitude mark and was still gathering speed.
"It's like they're both eager to be gone from this world," Chris thought.
"And our Canadian and European friends were more than happy to confirm that he made it into orbit. They were broadcasting it live when the streak effect happened," reported the man.
"Streak effect?" questioned the President.
"Yes sir. He took his ship to a parking orbit of 18,000 miles up, was there for 19 minutes then, all of a sudden, there was a streak on the radar that was about 14,000 miles long and he was gone."
"Reason for it?"
"Not really known, sir. Speculation is that he had some way to accelerate to near speed of light in an instant and that the effect is due to the radar signals being reflected back all at the same time as he got up to speed of light. Once he achieved that the radar signals couldn't see him anymore."
"Wait a minute!" an advisor interrupted. "Are you saying that this guy has, somehow, beaten Einstein's speed of light limit?!"
"Again, sir, unknown. All I'm saying is that the speculation, private and public, is that the streak means that he got very close to and, perhaps, even achieved the speed of light."
"Any chance the craft broke up, was destroyed in the event?" asked a general.
"That is unknown, also, sir. If it did the debris would have to be very minute, down to fine sand in size, for the high energy radars not to be able to see it. And they don't see anything there."
"Anything else?" inquired the President.
"Investigators are picking over the stuff left in the construction hanger. All the robots and other devices there had thermite charges on them that did a very good job of destroying them. Add to that that the whole construction area was, then, sprayed down with a highly corrosive acid and there's not a lot left. They did find that controlling computers and other data devices had their processing and memory cores removed. Evidently he took all of that plus some of his robots with him."
"This would be easier to handle and explain away if the media hadn't been there to show everything!" growled one general. "Why were they there in the first place?"
"Sir, we are coming up on the end of the fiscal year and the FAA folks wanted to appear..." said the analyst.
"Cripes! You'd think the Waco mess back in ‘93 would have taught them something!" said the general as he shook his head.
The men in the room went silent, thoughtful, for a moment.
"Thank you for your report," President said to the analyst. "You may go."
After he left the President turned to the others in the room.
"We have to stifle as much talk on this as we can. That damned bastard has got way too many people thinking about serious space travel!" he stated. "No "hearings" in Congress and our response to any questions on this is "No comment!"!"
"That will be difficult. Several senators and congressmen are making all kinds of noises on investigations," commented the security advisor.
"Shut them down! Sweet talk, a little bribery, and, if needed, straight up blackmail! Whatever it takes!" stated the President.
"That's easy compared to the news outlets," pointed out the general. "They're riding high in ratings by replaying this and talking it up. It hasn't helped that he released the costs for building the whole thing! There's one hell of a ruckus going on that he built that spacecraft for $397 million dollars! Hell, he even left an account to pay for the rebuilding of the hanger! And I've heard at least two news people refer to it as a starship! We need to do something to cut that talk off as well!!"
"We don't do ANYTHING!" the President stated, firmly. "Any attempts to shut the newshounds down will only rile up the issue more thus prolonging it! We want the 'status quo' back and anything that delays that doesn't help!"
"That may be some time coming," chimed in another advisor. "A lot of folks are actually looking at this guy as some kind of rogue hero. They aren't going to let go of this anytime soon."
"Let them talk! The stuff will get 'old' soon enough if we don't give them anything else to pick over!"
"What if he comes back?" asked the first advisor, softly.
"Pray that he doesn't! As long as he's not here there will be a nagging doubt in peoples' minds as to whether it worked or not. We need to, quietly, reinforce that doubt," the President said.
Years later:
"And that was Christopher Kole the Groom Field tower controller," stated the reporter. "As you know he was here six years ago when...."
Chris shook his head as he checked over the tower consoles and comm. links.
"Good grief! You'd think they'd get tired of coming here year after year," he grumbled.
Seeing that everything was right he looked over the incoming flight file.
"Four private planes and a couple of charters," he mused. "High traffic day."
This "anniversary" attracted folks to the field. The first plane wasn't due in for another hour and a half.
"Groom field tower, this is Twilight. I'm inbound at 30 miles north of you. Requesting permission to land and landing instructions." came a voice in Chris's headset.
A glance at the radar showed nothing within 70 miles. Still, the voice....
"Inbound aircraft, please repeat your request," Chris asked as he picked up his binoculars and put them to his eyes.
"Groom Field tower, this is Twilight. Now 20 miles north of you, requesting landing permission and instructions."
There it was, a small, broad arrowhead coming straight at him.
"Lord of all!" Chris gasped. "Twilight, you are cleared to land. Visibility unlimited, wind out of the north northeast at 7 miles per hour, VFR rules apply. You are number one in the pattern."
"Thank you, tower," came the reply.
"Oh man! The news crews are going to have a field day!" Chris groaned.
"This is incredible!" said the reporter to his mic.
Cameras followed the giant craft as it landed and rolled down the runway. One zoomed in on the side of the cockpit and showed the nose art. There wasn't any doubt.
"Six years to the day, almost to the hour, after it took off the Twilight has returned!"
"Wings are clean," Chris noted. "Wonder what happened to the drop tanks."
He looked at some photos of the Twilight he had on the ceiling then back at the ship, checking the wingspan compared to the edges of the runway.
"Yup, she's 'grown' some since she left."
After coming to a very slow roll the winged giant turned on to a taxiway and headed for the main terminal area.
"Looks like he's coming here," thought Chris.
When the Twilight stopped the nose tip was about 90 feet from the tower wall. A few of moments later the phone from the tower guard rang and Chris picked it up...
"Yes?"
"Uhhhhhhh, sir. A Mr. Shawn Rodgers would like...."
"Send him up," Chris replied.
The sound of feet pounding on stairs preceded Shawn's arrival. He walked right up to Chris and stuck out his right hand. Chris took it in his own and shook it.
"Mister! You are one major pain in the ass!!" Chris stated.
"Thanks! I work hard at it!" answered Shawn with a big grin. "I wondered if they'd thrown you in jail because of that final okay to leave you gave."
"Oh, they threatened to lock me up for unauthorized clearance and disobeying orders. I should have been worried but for some reason I wasn't. Nothing much came of it, other than I'm stuck here for the rest of my career. Seems a large segment of the public thinks I'm something of a hero and the pols decided that it would be best just to leave things well enough alone."
"No Congressional hearings to suffer through?"
"Nope. They wanted to let things fade as soon as possible. Hearings would only have kept things stirred up."
"Wow! Someone was actually smart!" Shawn marveled.
"You know that the Fed types are going to come after you like a nest of angry hornets, don't you?"
"I'd be disappointed if they didn't!"
"And you're not worried?"
"Trust me. I and the Twilight have enough defenses to make anything anyone can try a waste of time."
"What are you doing back here? Supplies run low?" inquired Chris.
"No. I wanted to see how the old homestead was doing after all these years. And to answer a question I think a lot of people have had since I left."
"The one that goes; 'Did he make it? Did it really work?'."
"That's the one."
Eastern USA, at a large furry convention
"...far I have found a total of 157 'Earth type' planets, all with biospheres as diverse and complicated as Earth's. Hench my categorizing them as Earth types," Shawn told the large gathering. "All the data that I've shown here, and a lot more, was loaded on the Net just a few minutes ago. It's at several thousand sites so it'll be easy to find, if you wish."
He saw a hand go up.
"Yes?"
"Sir! You have presented a large amount of data on solar systems, planets, moons, and other celestial items. How could you, in six years, have covered so much area?"
"Because I didn't," he replied. "The lion's share of the scouting and data collection was done by a flock of FTL robot probes. I took off with four of them under the Twilight's wings and have constructed more since. They are, even now, searching out new systems and objects and collecting information about them."
Another hand went up and Shawn pointed to its owner.
"The amount of ...living planets you have found is astonishing! Even the most optimistic of astronomers didn't think the numbers would be this good! Have you any thoughts on why it is this way?"
"Two. One is that the science folks were way too pessimistic in their theories."
"And the other?"
"This is my own opinion, so keep that in mind. I think that it is possible that most, maybe close to all, of these worlds were made."
Silence.
"M...ma...made?!" someone stammered. "You mean like terraformed?"
"That, or possibly more than that."
"Huh?"
"Look. This universe has been around a long time, way more than enough for a number of intelligent races to have evolved and become VERY advanced in their sciences and technologies. Maybe they needed living space and there weren't that many worlds that they could live comfortably on. So, they made them. Likely they sent out fleets of automatic machines to do the job. Such machines would be built to really last. The races may have died out but their machines go on doing their work."
The crowd took a few heartbeats to digest this.
"Then, it may be possible..." started one woman.
"...that our world was made?" Shawn finished when she hesitated. "Right now, your guess is as good as mine."
"Yes?" he said, pointing to another raised hand.
"Sir. Would you release the technical and other diagrams, specs, and principles of your starship?"
Shawn favored the man with a rueful look.
"You, fellow, don't ask for anything small, do you?"
"No sir!"
"I'll answer that question like this. No, I won't, and for two reasons. One; I don't have to, and two; I don't want to!"
The expressions he saw varied from confused and sad to angry.
"Now, to explain the first reason, everything I used to build the Twilight was obtained from open sources here on Earth. Everything! New materials, ion engines, environmental systems, the artificial gravity field, inertia nullers, and the FTL drives, ALL of it from a detailed search on the Net."
Shawn smiled at the looks of disbelief on so many faces.
"And I'll let you in on a secret. Every bit of it is still there, waiting to be gathered and put to use. All you have to do is ask the right questions in order to collect it. There are several very good search programs available today that can get the job done."
He took a sip of water from a glass on the podium.
"As to the second reason, if I gave this stuff to you wouldn't feel that it was right, for some reason. But, if you have to work for it, sweat having to dig up and sort it out then you'll have an appreciation for it."
He looked the group over, seeing a number faces screwed up in heavy thought. Shawn considered that a good sign.
"Now, there are three stumbling blocks you'll have to overcome. I'll give them to you from the smallest to the biggest. Number three: The government will do all it can to dissuade you from going on with this, mostly through idiot laws and regulations. Whether they may resort to sabotage or even assassination is another question. Number two: These are the naysayers and the whiners. They'll say you aren't smart enough to do it, something will go wrong, or it'll take too much time. These people will drone on, and on, and on and the sound of it will drive you up the wall! Put in some good earplugs and proceed on! Number ONE: THE biggest block you have to get by is that person that looks out at you any time you look into a mirror! In the end, the only person that can truly stop you from building your own ship, or doing anything else for that matter, is you!"
A young woman stood up and Shawn nodded to her.
"Sir. Even with all the right information building something like your ship is a daunting task!" she pointed out. "You had a fortune to work with plus the authorities didn't know what you were truly up to until it was too late!"
"Quite right. Thing is, you don't have to build something as large as the Twilight.
"
"What?!!" blurted out several voices.
He scanned the crowd then looked at the various network cameras that were transmitting everything he said to untold millions.
"Look, I presumed that living worlds were going to be very rare therefore I figured I'd have to carry all my supplies with me. I even have a hydroponic farm on board that would cover almost half an acre if I were to unstack it and lay it out. And I have a lot of science equipment as well. You won't need all of that, unless you want it. A comfortable craft for, say, a dozen people out for several months to year would be something about the size of a C-130 Hercules. For four people looking at two to four months outing you could build one the size of a commercial bus."
People were looking at one another, whispering, some were scribbling in notebooks.
"In closing I leave you three bits of advice," Shawn said. "Number One is; 'There are no problems, only solutions!' Number Two; 'Do or do not! There is no try!' The last one is a business saying. Rule Number One: "Don't sweat the small stuff!" Rule Number Two: "Everything is small stuff!"."
He paused to let it sink in.
"Ladies and gentlefurs, thank you and..."
Another woman jumped up!
"Sir! Please! One more question!" she asked.
"Very well, ask," he replied.
"In all your travels and data collecting...have you come across any intelligent furred species?"
Shawn grinned mightily.
"There's only one real way to find out."
He placed his hands on the top side of the podium and leaned towards the gathering.
"And that's to go out there and find out on your own!"
Epilog:
"Groom Field tower, this is Twilight, permission to depart, please."
Chris looked over the area surrounding the parking spot of the starship then at where the ship itself was.
"Or should be," he said to himself.
The reason for his thought was that the force field dome that surrounded Twilight was covered with a solid network of steel cables, most of them close to three inches in diameter, stretched tightly over that dome. These were anchored deeply in the ground beneath the concrete. Add to that that the covering was in layers that came to, at Chris's best guess, more than three feet in depth. On the parking ramp the cable shell was completely ringed with several "layers" of heavy battle tanks (no crews in them). Outside of them were rings of big cargo containers, filled with stone, stretched out for more than a thousand yards in "depth". Chris had to cross the whole affair on a board pathway to get to the tower.
"I'm amazed that they went to the trouble to set the walkway up!" he said to himself. “And let me come here.”
All of this had been accomplished in eleven days. Chris keyed his mike.
"Twilight, this is Groom Field tower. If you can get out of all of that I'm not going to try to stop you!" he transmitted.
"I'll take as a 'Yes.'!"
Kole heard the humor in the voice. A few seconds later he saw the dome of cables..."drop" inwards a few feet. Next, the whole affair took on a bright glow for several seconds then the glow was gone, and so were all the cables.
"Okay, you've handled the "cage", now what about the....moat?" Chris questioned to himself.
That answer came when he saw the craft silently lift, levitate off the concrete. It rose to a point about 270 feet above the tower, rolled over until it was inverted, then sank down again until the cockpit was level with the tower's windows. Chris could easily see the upside down Shawn seated in that cockpit.
"Groom Field tower, permission to depart, please."
"Get out of here you nut!" yelled Chris. "You're making me dizzy seeing you like that!"
A hearty laugh sounded in Kole's headset and the ship rose upwards once more, rolled upright, then shot away from the tower. In a few seconds it was completely out of sight. Chris noted that though the craft had to have gone supersonic that there was no sonic boom.
"Why do I have the feeling that life is only just starting to get real interesting?" he asked himself.
*.8 to .95 mach/speed of sound
** Federal Aviation Administration
roadrodentI post this here on suggestion from
YiorYeosaA man gets a custom computer program from a friend which leads him to a very unexpected happanstance.
Story and characters ©
roadrodent ."Note: For those who may be interested in knowing where the aircraft name and nose art came from you can find both on this YouTube video."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzy1RNJBUo4
The Call
"Good meal, Shawn," the young man said.
"Thanks. Thought I'd go all out this time. Don't get to show off my cooking skills that often," Shawn replied.
"Being in the Marines having something to do with that?" Vincent grinned.
"Yup. The rations are meant to keep you alive and operating. Any real taste is purely accidental!"
The two chuckled at the old military truism
"Well, at least you got something out of your stint other than sore feet," Vincent pointed out.
"Computer troubleshooting, repair, and operations, basic and advanced," Shawn stated. "There are times that I think the computer is getting wayyyyy too deep into our lives! Too much depending on it...them operating."
"Don't be too ungrateful. They do help pay the bills for each of us."
"True. Still, I wonder if we're going to get so dependent on them that they may become the new....'gods' that we 'worship' at some time in the future."
"Hmmm, 'gods' of our own making," Vincent mused. "And the Net as...'Heaven'? 'Hell'?"
"Likely both yet neither. Guess that depends on one's point of view. Seems most folks see it a kind of oracle these days."
Shawn saw his friend reach into a pocket and pull out a jewel case holding three mini discs and place it on the table.
"Speaking of oracles..."
He slid the case over to Shawn.
"...that's a custom search program I just put together. I'd like you to try it and see what you think of it," Vincent said.
"Trying to outdo the other mega search engines?" questioned Shawn, picking up the plastic case.
"This goes beyond their normal and advanced stuff. It can be spot customized to look for particular stuff, set to ignore parts you're not interested in, plus you can set up a priority to rank what is found so you can see the more interesting stuff at the top of the list. The search can be as vague or detailed as you wish. You can set up as many specifications as you want. Build a search in a few minutes or take months to set one up, if you want," Vincent informed his friend.
"Kind of like 'weaving' a magic spell. Simple ones you do quick, complicated and more powerful ones taking up more time and effort," said Shawn, turning the disc case over in his hands.
"Your fantasy role playing is showing," commented Vincent.
"Keeps me for white siding from all the electron chasing I do."
Not surprisingly Shawn tried his friend's new program out on predicting market trends so he could invest better. After a couple of months of trial and error, tests and refinements, he got down to doing things for real. The results were pleasing, more than pleasing. Big things were brewing in so many industries these days and the program "saw" an astonishing number of them coming. As the successes mounted up Shawn got more daring in his investments and after more than a year the money really started rolling in. He was so successful he got a couple of visits from the SEC (Securities and Exchange Commission) people. In two years Shawn had built up such a fortune that he was almost embarrassed, almost. He wanted to share his wealth with Vincent but the programmer could not be found. It was as if he had vanished into thin air.
After putting his bags in the RV Shawn went back to the house and to his computer den. The system had "grown" over the last five years. Multiple processors, several monitors varying from 20 inch to 68 inches, a dozen Net access lines of the highest speed, and over a hundred terabytes of data storage. The room was shielded from outside wireless signals by layers of well-grounded copper mesh. One of his friends referred to it as his "data spider web from hell". Seating himself Shawn called up his special search program and tapped into a file there. He had been working on this search request for eight months in preparation of having it done while on his vacation. After one last check he tapped the ENTER key, left the room and house, and drove off.
"It's an impossible search," he told himself as he got onto the highway. "But it will keep the system busy while I'm gone."
Back at the house:
"Find, collect, correlate, and store all data for the planning and construction of a working faster-then-light starship. Parameters are...." were the words on the 30 inch monitor screen.
Four weeks later Shawn returned home. Once he had put away his stuff he went to his data room...and was astonished then awed at what was waiting for him there.
After working six fifteen hour days to further organize, sort out, match up, and study the collected data Shawn sat back in quiet awe.
"I'll be switched!" he thought.
Shawn researched a number of specialized fabricating companies then consulted with various ones to do the work he desired. His insistence of quality and precision drove the costs up but he had already factored that in and had the money to cover all of it. More than a few people in these places speculated as to what they were making was for as all of them were making parts for a whole machine(s) but never all the pieces for the entire assembly. The work took nearly a year.
Groom Airfield, somewhere, isolated, in Nevada
"The hanger was used to house an airship that the Air Force experimented with as an air bourn detection and command and control center that could stay up a lot longer than the AWACS planes," explained the official.
Looking around the place Shawn was impressed! The interior measured more the 900 feet long with a floor level width of 287 feet. The straight up side walls were 98 feet high with the roof being a curved Quonset hut shape with the top reaching a little over 120 feet in overall height. Lines of offices, workshops, and storage rooms run down the length of the structure on both sides.
"I'm surprised that this place hasn't been leased by some warehousing outfit," commented Shawn.
"We tried to get them interested but were told that this place is too far from main access highways to be really useful," said the realty agent.
After finishing the tour the two stopped on a second floor outside stair landing and surveyed the airfield.
"One 26,000 foot long runway plus a main runway that is 38,000 feet long, both 180 feet wide. And both of them plus the taxiways and parking stands engineered to handle up 900 tons of weight," Shawn mused out loud.
"Yes. They seriously overbuilt them," commented the agent.
"I'll need it. The experimental aircraft I have planned is a heavy lift carrier designed for very high altitude cruising. It's not going to be small or a light weight," Shawn said.
He turned to the agent.
"Let's get the paperwork signed," Shawn said.
A week later the last of Shawn's equipment arrived at the hanger and he got to work getting things set up. The first thing that needed to be done was to do highly precise measurements of the main area. Once that was accomplished he began laying out and setting up the robots that would do the work of assembling his aircraft. Others machines, furnaces, shapers, filament drawers, etc., were set up in the adjoining side structures. All of this, plus the initial testing and fine tuning, took several weeks. The only human on this project was Shawn himself as all his "helpers" were robots.
Four months later:
"You have quite an ambitious project here," stated the Transportation safety inspector.
"There's an old saying that goes 'If you're going to do it do it big!'," replied Shawn. "I'm building a heavy cargo carrier to transport at least twice the load of anything else currently available at any altitude up to 80,000 feet and do it at the low to mid transonic* range of speeds over land and, where permitted, at supersonic speeds over the oceans, and to do it with high degree of efficiency in fuel usage."
The inspector looked around the huge hanger bay and was quite impressed by the number of robots working around and on the great airframe taking shape in their midst. He did note the absence of one thing.
"Isn't there anyone else working here other than you and these robots?" asked the inspector.
"Nope, just me and them," answered Shawn.
Seeing the questioning expression on the inspector's face Shawn chose to elaborate.
"Robots are precise in their work, don't require lunch or any other breaks, they can break down now and then but are easier to 'doctor' then humans. And they excel in one other thing over humans."
"What's that?"
"They don't talk, therefore my trade and industrial secrets remain that way."
The inspector nodded.
"Have you any real idea when you'll make your first test flight?" he asked.
"September 8 is the date, come Hell or high water," Shawn responded.
The inspector nodded. For what he and some others had in mind the timing was about perfect.
8 September:
"Groom Field tower, this is Twilight, ready to roll out, taxi instructions, please."
"Twilight, you are cleared to taxi to main runway. Wind is from the north at nine miles per hour, gusting to sixteen. Use south end for takeoff,” instructed the tower controller, Chris.
"How's the airspace looking?"
"All clear. As per your flight request you have unlimited altitude and unlimited sky.
"Thanks tower."
The tower controller picked up a set of binoculars and put them to his eyes.
"Now, let's see what this new plane looks like," he said to himself.
The doors of the huge hanger moved aside with surprising speed. In less than one minute both ends were fully open...and the Twilight rolled out.
"Whoa! That thing's a monster!" Chris said.
As the giant emerged he saw that about 40 feet of each wingtip was folded up, angled inwards some 20 degrees. Once clear of the doors the ends deployed out and down and locked into place.
There were four large pods, two hanging under each wing, that looked like external fuel tanks
"It looks like the old British Avro Vulcan bomber on serious steroids!" Chris thought.
As he looked the craft over it struck him that there was something odd about it, something that wasn't right for a normal aircraft.
"RINGGGG!"
Chris snatched up the noisy phone, his eyes still on the rolling giant.
"Tower, go ahead."
"Tower! This is main gate! I've got a convey of government vehicles coming through!"
A second phone chimed and Chris grabbed it.
"Tower, go ahead."
"This is gate two! There's a whole wad of FAA**, FBI, and other vehicles tearing through here and going for the airfield! Hell! I've even had three news vans come through!"
"Roger, understand," the controller said and hung up.
Shifting his binoculars he saw a long line of vehicles racing for the runways. A couple split off and came towards the tower.
"Get the cameras set up!" yelled the reporter. "I want the satellite link up now!"
The news van's tech. crew scrambled to get on the air fast!
"And patch in to the tower frequency as soon as you can!"
Shawn spotted the SUV's and vans tearing across the field. Some were already pulling onto the main runway's halfway point and stopping.
"So, it's going to be that way," he murmured to himself.
The two men presented their identification to the tower guard and he let them in. Reaching the top they repeated the procedure with Chris.
"You are to order...." started the senior FAA agent.
"Twilight, this is Groom Field tower. Your flight plan has been cancelled and permission for takeoff revoked by the FAA. Please park your aircraft where it is, shut off your engines, and exit the plane."
There was no response as the delta winged plane approached the end of the main runway. When it got there Chris noted that the pilot went as far as possible to the end before turning to face north.
"That's not a good sign," he thought.
As the aircraft pivoted onto the runway two panels dropped off the right and left sides of the nose, revealing something. The name "Twilight" was painted in large black letters on both sides of the nose. The letters had silver linings around them and there were stars "twinkling" in each of them. Above the letters was a young woman dressed in a blood red, except for the white tail, wrist cuffs, collar, and stockings, Playboy bunny outfit. Her shoulder length hair was as red as her costume. She stood, crouched, surfing on a black bladed sword that was just clearing some waves of water.
"Interesting nose art," Chris commented.
"Relay the stop orders to him again!" commanded the FAA agent.
"Twilight this is Groom Field tower. I repeat, you are ordered by the FAA to shut down and exit your aircraft."
There were several seconds of silence, then....
"Tower controller, have you ever heard of a 'Call to Glory' moment?"
Pause.
"Can't say that I have," came the reply.
"Many years ago my dad's dad told me about folks getting such an event...moment in their lives. 'If you get through it will be the most intense and satisfying happening of your life!' he said. 'The catch is that if you go for it you're putting everything, including your life, on the line. Easiest and safest thing to do is to back off, avoid it, and let it pass you by.'."
Pause.
"Did he ever get one?" asked the tower.
"Yes."
Quiet.
"And...?"
"He said he always regretted that he didn't grab hold of it."
Silence.
"Tower? Unlimited altitude? Unlimited sky?"
Pause.
"Twilight. You have unlimited altitude. You have unlimited sky!" tower responded.
"What's that mean?" one network tech. asked his friend.
"It's an old aviation term meaning that you can go as far and as high as you want!" the other answered.
"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" demanded one FAA official.
The tower controller's eyes stayed locked on to the aircraft.
"Mister. Get a clue!" Chris said.
Shawn slammed the throttles wide open.
"Things are still at a standoff here," the reporter, his back to the aircraft, stated to his viewers. "We've heard some unusual..."
The camera caught and sent out the sight of four white cored columns of bright electric blue, better the half the length of the plane, erupting from the Twilight's engine nozzles.
"...chatter between the tower and the aircrew..."
The sound wave hit!
"Good Lord!" Chris exclaimed.
Even with all the vibration proofing the floor rattled under his feet.
"Brake release," Shawn radioed.
"The noise is incredible!" one journalist hollered to millions of viewers. "Everything is shaking!"
She saw the plane start rolling forward.
"The aircraft is moving! This pilot is going for it!"
"Tower, Twilight on takeoff roll," Shawn said, unnecessarily.
"He's insane!" stated one of the FAA agents.
"He might be," Chris replied, watching the plane gather speed.
As the engine gauges topped out in their green zones fingertips lifted four stop levers and the throttles were pushed farther forward. The gauges went into their yellow zones as they headed for the red lines.
Chris glanced it the runway speed radar.
"At 277 mph in about 5000 ft. of runway! I'm impressed!" he thought.
The line of vehicles grew as he raced towards them. Shawn tapped his throttles up some more. The horizon sank downwards.
"Nose gear rotation!" he called as the nose gear lifted off the surface.
"This is amazing!" shouted a reporter into his mic. "He just might make it!!"
"Come on honey! You can do it!" Shawn encouraged his creation.
"Run!" several people on the vehicle barricade yelled. The command wasn't needed. Everyone was already dashing to get out of the way!
"This is going to be close!!" another journalist yelled.
Half the cameras zoomed in on the barrier, the other half continued to follow the plane.
"Main gears breaking ground!" the pilot told the tower.
He braced for the hit.
"He's gone," Chris said to himself.
When the awaited shock of collision didn't come, Shawn let himself start to breathe again.
Over the years those who reviewed the videos would argue over whether the Twilight's main gear wheels cleared the vehicle tops by less than three feet or by more than three feet.
As the landing gears folded into their wheel wells the Twilight pointed her nose straight up and clawed for altitude.
"He'll have to come down somewhere, sometime," stated the FAA agent. "We'll pick him up then."
Chris shook his head.
"You still don't get it, do you?" he said.
"Get what?!" the second FAA man demanded.
"Here, let me show you."
He rewound the tower videos to where the Twilight had just cleared its hanger then paused it. The frozen view was of the front of the plane.
"Tell me what you see or, more to the point, what you don't see," Chris said.
The two looked at the image, and one saw something.
"Hey! There are no air intakes!"
"What?! Are you sure?!"
"Look for yourself! Nothing along the leading edges of the wings, or on the underside, or at the top!"
They spent some more time looking the aircraft over then turned to a grinning Chris.
"You're not dealing with a jet. That thing is a rocket ship!"
He looked at the radar displays and saw Shawn's ship passing the 78 mile altitude mark and was still gathering speed.
"It's like they're both eager to be gone from this world," Chris thought.
"And our Canadian and European friends were more than happy to confirm that he made it into orbit. They were broadcasting it live when the streak effect happened," reported the man.
"Streak effect?" questioned the President.
"Yes sir. He took his ship to a parking orbit of 18,000 miles up, was there for 19 minutes then, all of a sudden, there was a streak on the radar that was about 14,000 miles long and he was gone."
"Reason for it?"
"Not really known, sir. Speculation is that he had some way to accelerate to near speed of light in an instant and that the effect is due to the radar signals being reflected back all at the same time as he got up to speed of light. Once he achieved that the radar signals couldn't see him anymore."
"Wait a minute!" an advisor interrupted. "Are you saying that this guy has, somehow, beaten Einstein's speed of light limit?!"
"Again, sir, unknown. All I'm saying is that the speculation, private and public, is that the streak means that he got very close to and, perhaps, even achieved the speed of light."
"Any chance the craft broke up, was destroyed in the event?" asked a general.
"That is unknown, also, sir. If it did the debris would have to be very minute, down to fine sand in size, for the high energy radars not to be able to see it. And they don't see anything there."
"Anything else?" inquired the President.
"Investigators are picking over the stuff left in the construction hanger. All the robots and other devices there had thermite charges on them that did a very good job of destroying them. Add to that that the whole construction area was, then, sprayed down with a highly corrosive acid and there's not a lot left. They did find that controlling computers and other data devices had their processing and memory cores removed. Evidently he took all of that plus some of his robots with him."
"This would be easier to handle and explain away if the media hadn't been there to show everything!" growled one general. "Why were they there in the first place?"
"Sir, we are coming up on the end of the fiscal year and the FAA folks wanted to appear..." said the analyst.
"Cripes! You'd think the Waco mess back in ‘93 would have taught them something!" said the general as he shook his head.
The men in the room went silent, thoughtful, for a moment.
"Thank you for your report," President said to the analyst. "You may go."
After he left the President turned to the others in the room.
"We have to stifle as much talk on this as we can. That damned bastard has got way too many people thinking about serious space travel!" he stated. "No "hearings" in Congress and our response to any questions on this is "No comment!"!"
"That will be difficult. Several senators and congressmen are making all kinds of noises on investigations," commented the security advisor.
"Shut them down! Sweet talk, a little bribery, and, if needed, straight up blackmail! Whatever it takes!" stated the President.
"That's easy compared to the news outlets," pointed out the general. "They're riding high in ratings by replaying this and talking it up. It hasn't helped that he released the costs for building the whole thing! There's one hell of a ruckus going on that he built that spacecraft for $397 million dollars! Hell, he even left an account to pay for the rebuilding of the hanger! And I've heard at least two news people refer to it as a starship! We need to do something to cut that talk off as well!!"
"We don't do ANYTHING!" the President stated, firmly. "Any attempts to shut the newshounds down will only rile up the issue more thus prolonging it! We want the 'status quo' back and anything that delays that doesn't help!"
"That may be some time coming," chimed in another advisor. "A lot of folks are actually looking at this guy as some kind of rogue hero. They aren't going to let go of this anytime soon."
"Let them talk! The stuff will get 'old' soon enough if we don't give them anything else to pick over!"
"What if he comes back?" asked the first advisor, softly.
"Pray that he doesn't! As long as he's not here there will be a nagging doubt in peoples' minds as to whether it worked or not. We need to, quietly, reinforce that doubt," the President said.
Years later:
"And that was Christopher Kole the Groom Field tower controller," stated the reporter. "As you know he was here six years ago when...."
Chris shook his head as he checked over the tower consoles and comm. links.
"Good grief! You'd think they'd get tired of coming here year after year," he grumbled.
Seeing that everything was right he looked over the incoming flight file.
"Four private planes and a couple of charters," he mused. "High traffic day."
This "anniversary" attracted folks to the field. The first plane wasn't due in for another hour and a half.
"Groom field tower, this is Twilight. I'm inbound at 30 miles north of you. Requesting permission to land and landing instructions." came a voice in Chris's headset.
A glance at the radar showed nothing within 70 miles. Still, the voice....
"Inbound aircraft, please repeat your request," Chris asked as he picked up his binoculars and put them to his eyes.
"Groom Field tower, this is Twilight. Now 20 miles north of you, requesting landing permission and instructions."
There it was, a small, broad arrowhead coming straight at him.
"Lord of all!" Chris gasped. "Twilight, you are cleared to land. Visibility unlimited, wind out of the north northeast at 7 miles per hour, VFR rules apply. You are number one in the pattern."
"Thank you, tower," came the reply.
"Oh man! The news crews are going to have a field day!" Chris groaned.
"This is incredible!" said the reporter to his mic.
Cameras followed the giant craft as it landed and rolled down the runway. One zoomed in on the side of the cockpit and showed the nose art. There wasn't any doubt.
"Six years to the day, almost to the hour, after it took off the Twilight has returned!"
"Wings are clean," Chris noted. "Wonder what happened to the drop tanks."
He looked at some photos of the Twilight he had on the ceiling then back at the ship, checking the wingspan compared to the edges of the runway.
"Yup, she's 'grown' some since she left."
After coming to a very slow roll the winged giant turned on to a taxiway and headed for the main terminal area.
"Looks like he's coming here," thought Chris.
When the Twilight stopped the nose tip was about 90 feet from the tower wall. A few of moments later the phone from the tower guard rang and Chris picked it up...
"Yes?"
"Uhhhhhhh, sir. A Mr. Shawn Rodgers would like...."
"Send him up," Chris replied.
The sound of feet pounding on stairs preceded Shawn's arrival. He walked right up to Chris and stuck out his right hand. Chris took it in his own and shook it.
"Mister! You are one major pain in the ass!!" Chris stated.
"Thanks! I work hard at it!" answered Shawn with a big grin. "I wondered if they'd thrown you in jail because of that final okay to leave you gave."
"Oh, they threatened to lock me up for unauthorized clearance and disobeying orders. I should have been worried but for some reason I wasn't. Nothing much came of it, other than I'm stuck here for the rest of my career. Seems a large segment of the public thinks I'm something of a hero and the pols decided that it would be best just to leave things well enough alone."
"No Congressional hearings to suffer through?"
"Nope. They wanted to let things fade as soon as possible. Hearings would only have kept things stirred up."
"Wow! Someone was actually smart!" Shawn marveled.
"You know that the Fed types are going to come after you like a nest of angry hornets, don't you?"
"I'd be disappointed if they didn't!"
"And you're not worried?"
"Trust me. I and the Twilight have enough defenses to make anything anyone can try a waste of time."
"What are you doing back here? Supplies run low?" inquired Chris.
"No. I wanted to see how the old homestead was doing after all these years. And to answer a question I think a lot of people have had since I left."
"The one that goes; 'Did he make it? Did it really work?'."
"That's the one."
Eastern USA, at a large furry convention
"...far I have found a total of 157 'Earth type' planets, all with biospheres as diverse and complicated as Earth's. Hench my categorizing them as Earth types," Shawn told the large gathering. "All the data that I've shown here, and a lot more, was loaded on the Net just a few minutes ago. It's at several thousand sites so it'll be easy to find, if you wish."
He saw a hand go up.
"Yes?"
"Sir! You have presented a large amount of data on solar systems, planets, moons, and other celestial items. How could you, in six years, have covered so much area?"
"Because I didn't," he replied. "The lion's share of the scouting and data collection was done by a flock of FTL robot probes. I took off with four of them under the Twilight's wings and have constructed more since. They are, even now, searching out new systems and objects and collecting information about them."
Another hand went up and Shawn pointed to its owner.
"The amount of ...living planets you have found is astonishing! Even the most optimistic of astronomers didn't think the numbers would be this good! Have you any thoughts on why it is this way?"
"Two. One is that the science folks were way too pessimistic in their theories."
"And the other?"
"This is my own opinion, so keep that in mind. I think that it is possible that most, maybe close to all, of these worlds were made."
Silence.
"M...ma...made?!" someone stammered. "You mean like terraformed?"
"That, or possibly more than that."
"Huh?"
"Look. This universe has been around a long time, way more than enough for a number of intelligent races to have evolved and become VERY advanced in their sciences and technologies. Maybe they needed living space and there weren't that many worlds that they could live comfortably on. So, they made them. Likely they sent out fleets of automatic machines to do the job. Such machines would be built to really last. The races may have died out but their machines go on doing their work."
The crowd took a few heartbeats to digest this.
"Then, it may be possible..." started one woman.
"...that our world was made?" Shawn finished when she hesitated. "Right now, your guess is as good as mine."
"Yes?" he said, pointing to another raised hand.
"Sir. Would you release the technical and other diagrams, specs, and principles of your starship?"
Shawn favored the man with a rueful look.
"You, fellow, don't ask for anything small, do you?"
"No sir!"
"I'll answer that question like this. No, I won't, and for two reasons. One; I don't have to, and two; I don't want to!"
The expressions he saw varied from confused and sad to angry.
"Now, to explain the first reason, everything I used to build the Twilight was obtained from open sources here on Earth. Everything! New materials, ion engines, environmental systems, the artificial gravity field, inertia nullers, and the FTL drives, ALL of it from a detailed search on the Net."
Shawn smiled at the looks of disbelief on so many faces.
"And I'll let you in on a secret. Every bit of it is still there, waiting to be gathered and put to use. All you have to do is ask the right questions in order to collect it. There are several very good search programs available today that can get the job done."
He took a sip of water from a glass on the podium.
"As to the second reason, if I gave this stuff to you wouldn't feel that it was right, for some reason. But, if you have to work for it, sweat having to dig up and sort it out then you'll have an appreciation for it."
He looked the group over, seeing a number faces screwed up in heavy thought. Shawn considered that a good sign.
"Now, there are three stumbling blocks you'll have to overcome. I'll give them to you from the smallest to the biggest. Number three: The government will do all it can to dissuade you from going on with this, mostly through idiot laws and regulations. Whether they may resort to sabotage or even assassination is another question. Number two: These are the naysayers and the whiners. They'll say you aren't smart enough to do it, something will go wrong, or it'll take too much time. These people will drone on, and on, and on and the sound of it will drive you up the wall! Put in some good earplugs and proceed on! Number ONE: THE biggest block you have to get by is that person that looks out at you any time you look into a mirror! In the end, the only person that can truly stop you from building your own ship, or doing anything else for that matter, is you!"
A young woman stood up and Shawn nodded to her.
"Sir. Even with all the right information building something like your ship is a daunting task!" she pointed out. "You had a fortune to work with plus the authorities didn't know what you were truly up to until it was too late!"
"Quite right. Thing is, you don't have to build something as large as the Twilight.
"
"What?!!" blurted out several voices.
He scanned the crowd then looked at the various network cameras that were transmitting everything he said to untold millions.
"Look, I presumed that living worlds were going to be very rare therefore I figured I'd have to carry all my supplies with me. I even have a hydroponic farm on board that would cover almost half an acre if I were to unstack it and lay it out. And I have a lot of science equipment as well. You won't need all of that, unless you want it. A comfortable craft for, say, a dozen people out for several months to year would be something about the size of a C-130 Hercules. For four people looking at two to four months outing you could build one the size of a commercial bus."
People were looking at one another, whispering, some were scribbling in notebooks.
"In closing I leave you three bits of advice," Shawn said. "Number One is; 'There are no problems, only solutions!' Number Two; 'Do or do not! There is no try!' The last one is a business saying. Rule Number One: "Don't sweat the small stuff!" Rule Number Two: "Everything is small stuff!"."
He paused to let it sink in.
"Ladies and gentlefurs, thank you and..."
Another woman jumped up!
"Sir! Please! One more question!" she asked.
"Very well, ask," he replied.
"In all your travels and data collecting...have you come across any intelligent furred species?"
Shawn grinned mightily.
"There's only one real way to find out."
He placed his hands on the top side of the podium and leaned towards the gathering.
"And that's to go out there and find out on your own!"
Epilog:
"Groom Field tower, this is Twilight, permission to depart, please."
Chris looked over the area surrounding the parking spot of the starship then at where the ship itself was.
"Or should be," he said to himself.
The reason for his thought was that the force field dome that surrounded Twilight was covered with a solid network of steel cables, most of them close to three inches in diameter, stretched tightly over that dome. These were anchored deeply in the ground beneath the concrete. Add to that that the covering was in layers that came to, at Chris's best guess, more than three feet in depth. On the parking ramp the cable shell was completely ringed with several "layers" of heavy battle tanks (no crews in them). Outside of them were rings of big cargo containers, filled with stone, stretched out for more than a thousand yards in "depth". Chris had to cross the whole affair on a board pathway to get to the tower.
"I'm amazed that they went to the trouble to set the walkway up!" he said to himself. “And let me come here.”
All of this had been accomplished in eleven days. Chris keyed his mike.
"Twilight, this is Groom Field tower. If you can get out of all of that I'm not going to try to stop you!" he transmitted.
"I'll take as a 'Yes.'!"
Kole heard the humor in the voice. A few seconds later he saw the dome of cables..."drop" inwards a few feet. Next, the whole affair took on a bright glow for several seconds then the glow was gone, and so were all the cables.
"Okay, you've handled the "cage", now what about the....moat?" Chris questioned to himself.
That answer came when he saw the craft silently lift, levitate off the concrete. It rose to a point about 270 feet above the tower, rolled over until it was inverted, then sank down again until the cockpit was level with the tower's windows. Chris could easily see the upside down Shawn seated in that cockpit.
"Groom Field tower, permission to depart, please."
"Get out of here you nut!" yelled Chris. "You're making me dizzy seeing you like that!"
A hearty laugh sounded in Kole's headset and the ship rose upwards once more, rolled upright, then shot away from the tower. In a few seconds it was completely out of sight. Chris noted that though the craft had to have gone supersonic that there was no sonic boom.
"Why do I have the feeling that life is only just starting to get real interesting?" he asked himself.
*.8 to .95 mach/speed of sound
** Federal Aviation Administration
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 130.3 kB
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