Chapter 10
DaGama shuttle Oeiras
28-29 June, 2787
The two assault shuttles under Vasconcellos' command, Oeiras and Caxias, lifted cleanly from the small base tucked away in the system's asteroid belt and settled on an appropriate vector for their intercept of Pathfinder's current track. Acceleration was kept low, less than 50 g, in order to keep their target from knowing they were there for as long as could be managed. Once they approached too closely and were spotted there would be no disengaging. Their best hope of success could be found in delaying that moment for as long as possible.
Vasconcellos settled himself into the proper mental track as easily as he had directed the ships. This was yet another example of the military's "hurry up and wait". It was so familiar by now that he couldn't imagine life being any other way. As always, he used the wait time to prepare himself for all of the things that might or might not happen during those hectic hurry up moments. At this velocity, he would have plenty of opportunity to prepare.
He ran through the status of all of the shuttles' systems, marking each green light off his mental checklist. He called his noncoms for each squad's readiness. He ran a passive scan of Pathfinder and found that it had not altered course.
Those items cleared from his task list, he went through the plan of attack step by step, looking for potential problems, as he had many dozens of times already. The two shuttles he commanded were headed, not for a direct rendezvous with their objective, but for a point well behind it. There was no possibility of getting within striking distance while approaching broadside. Instead, phase one of the plan would have them limit their emissions while moving behind Pathfinder and then use the interference of the larger vessel's engines to mask their attack run.
Once in position, phase two was to disarm the ship. The first difficulty to overcome would be the two chase missile tubes. Each of the shuttles would target one of them, and hold fire until either it was clear they had been spotted or they were within 10,000 km, whichever came first. The same distortion which would mask their presence would create problems with accurately targeting their tubes, but the benefit of using high-powered lasers was that you could hit whatever you could see.
Vasconcellos hoped to close with their wounded prey quickly at that point. He was not expecting to make it without any return fire coming his way, of course. Only a fool expects his enemy to make his life easy for him, or that every break will fall his way in an engagement. The best you could do was to prepare for the worst and hope to be pleasantly surprised.
The worst that could happen was for Pathfinder to react immediately to the attack, turn to face them and open up with their three remaining missile tubes and single laser mount. Even then, it would be close to a fair fight. The two shuttles had two lasers and four tubes a bit smaller than the enemy's between them. Still, evading a counterattack would be difficult at such short range.
They would have surprise of their side, as long as they could successfully sneak into position without being spotted. The shock of the unexpected attack should be sufficient to slow their response by as much as a minute or more. That much time would allow them to destroy the remainder of the target's offensive weapons before they could be brought to bear.
Once the external defenses were dispatched, phase three was to board and take the ship. Caxias' marines would board through the boat bay, with ready access to Engineering, while Vasconcellos and Oeiras would enter directly behind and above Pathfinder's bridge. The assault shuttles were designed for just this kind of boarding. Each would seal itself to the outer hull of the target, then use controlled plasma bursts to create a sizeable entrance.
Once inside, the four squads of marines in battle armor should find little resistance. Data from their source claimed there were only three security personnel aboard Pathfinder. It took fifteen minutes for a top-notch and motivated soldier to don protective gear. Vasconcellos didn't plan to allow them that much time. That left the crew of swabbies, which would be no threat at all.
His mind at rest, the lieutenant decided to work on the second most important preparation for the coming conflict. He went to sleep.
"Lieutenant, you'd best take a look at this." The words were not spoken loudly, but it immediately brought his mind back into focus. A quick glance at the chrono showed that he had at least managed a few hours of sack time.
"What is it, Mark?"
"Passives are returning two signals now. Looks like Pathfinder sent Vanguard out to survey on its own." Second Lieutenant Cinquini, First Platoon's leader, did not look the least bit pleased. Vasconcellos felt much the same.
This was not an eventuality that had been considered in their planning or training. They could not capture either of the ships and leave the other active to raise the alarm, and they did not have the ships and men to take them both at the same time. He was going to have to contact the base for new orders. He hated to do that. Especially when the smart money said Agostinho was going to scrub the whole op. He had no choice, though. This scenario was not covered in the current plan, and his orders did not allow for this much discretion in forming a new plan on his own.
"Fire up the directional comms, Mark. We need to take this up with the Old Lady."
"Yes, sir." He still didn't sound happy.
When he got the commander on the horn, she didn't either.
"Well, there goes six weeks of planning straight down the toilet!" was probably the mildest thing she had to say on the subject. After the initial venting, though, she was quiet for some time. Vasconcellos could tell she was percolating a new idea, so he also said nothing and waited.
"Where is Vanguard headed, Lieutenant?"
Vasconcellos checked the plot on the tactical display and saw that the ship in question was currently decelerating hard to approach the third planet on this side of the system. He passed that information on.
"Perfect!" Vasconcellos could hear the grin in her voice.
"How so, m'am?"
"One of the big worries about our plan was that it might backfire on us. Instead of making sure we guaranteed our share of the prize, we could have made Forrest so pissed off that we went to war over it.
"Opportunity may be knocking, Steve. With the two ships separated, we can take Vanguard, and leave Pathfinder for Forrest to scoop up. We get our hands on the new technology without the need for conflict with Forrest. In fact, if we do it right, Forrest never even needs to know."
Vasconcellos could see the truth in that, once it was pointed out. He liked the new objective better for selfish reasons as well. With a smaller ship, fewer crew, and no armaments, taking Vanguard would involve much less risk for him and his team.
"All right, what is the right way to do it?" he asked.
"Can you make it to the planet before they get there?"
"No, ma'am. Not without being spotted. If we alter course now and keep our accel under the detection threshold, we're still…thirty-eight hours from planetfall," he said, reading off the numbers the comm sergeant held up for him. Onboard a ship was not his natural environment, and the complex physics involved in calculating trajectories was not in his line of work. He was the proverbial ground-pounder, and proud of it.
"Okay, I think your best bet would be to pose as the terraforming team we cleaned out of the system. Get them to let their guard down and then make your move. You may not be able to be believable if they get to the terraformer's encampment before you do, in which case, make the best tactical assault you can, given the circumstances."
"Understood, ma'am. Vasconcellos clear." He keyed the system off, then headed out to the main cabin.
"All right, you apes, listen hard. As is usual, the other side is not acting like we told them to, so there's been a change of plan…"
29 September, 2010
22 September, 2010
What is Science-Fiction?
I came across a blog post by Graham Storrs today which prompted a little bit of self evaluation. You can read the full post here.
He says: “…great science fiction involves stories about ourselves and what it means to be human, that confronts us with the question, “Is this really who we are?” It also presents plausible alternatives to the world we know, alternatives which compel the people in them to reveal their nature because of how they challenge us to adapt to them, and which compel the reader to ask that publisher’s question, “Is this really what we want for ourselves?’”
His post tackles the question of what constitutes great science fiction. In it, he states that he had been reading a blog post by Mike Brotherton, which presented yet another attempt to define science fiction, and that post spurred further thought and analysis on his part. Mike’s post is here.
In it, he claims: “There’s a school of thought that says that science fiction is just a label that marketers put on the spine of a book, regardless of what is inside, and that something I’d call science fiction gets put into a different section if the author is Stephen King, Michael Crichton, or Margaret Atwood.”
His definition of science fiction is this: “Science fiction is a kind of story in which science or technology plays a central role, both in terms of plot and theme, and the science or technology elements are beyond our current knowledge or capabilities (without violating what we already know), permitting the exploration of novel ideas and the reaction of humanity to them.”
I think I like Mike’s definition is more closely aligned with my own. Graham has a very broad view of the genre, one which could be spread far enough to include just about everything written. All books, from Diary of a Wimpy Kid to The Count of Monte Cristo are about “ourselves and what it means to be human.” Any book worth its salt will make the reader ask questions such as those he mentions.
For me, even though the human element is one of the most important pieces of a well-written science-fiction book, I think it is the crucial element in any book, and not what distinguishes science-fiction as a genre. The ingredient for me which means that a work lands in the sci-fi bin is the setting in which it is placed. That environment needs to be notably different from the world around us, and the difference caused by a level of technology which we have not (yet) achieved.
For example, I still feel like the early books in The Dragonriders of Pern series are works of fantasy. The people in the stories; Lessa, F’lar, Menolly, and even Ramoth and Mnementh; live a very low-tech life and the enemy they fight and the tools they use to fight them are equally rudimentary. Later books, though, have dramatically shifted the genre to be science fiction. It turns out that the ancestors of those people had colonized from Earth in great starships. The dragons were genetically modified from indigenous animals. A giant computer is discovered which helps them regain their lost level of technology.
That the later books change the history of the earlier books does not make the earlier books science fiction because the setting of the earlier books, the environment in which they live and work, has not changed.
Anyway, that’s what I think. Feel free to leave me a comment and disagree.
He says: “…great science fiction involves stories about ourselves and what it means to be human, that confronts us with the question, “Is this really who we are?” It also presents plausible alternatives to the world we know, alternatives which compel the people in them to reveal their nature because of how they challenge us to adapt to them, and which compel the reader to ask that publisher’s question, “Is this really what we want for ourselves?’”
His post tackles the question of what constitutes great science fiction. In it, he states that he had been reading a blog post by Mike Brotherton, which presented yet another attempt to define science fiction, and that post spurred further thought and analysis on his part. Mike’s post is here.
In it, he claims: “There’s a school of thought that says that science fiction is just a label that marketers put on the spine of a book, regardless of what is inside, and that something I’d call science fiction gets put into a different section if the author is Stephen King, Michael Crichton, or Margaret Atwood.”
His definition of science fiction is this: “Science fiction is a kind of story in which science or technology plays a central role, both in terms of plot and theme, and the science or technology elements are beyond our current knowledge or capabilities (without violating what we already know), permitting the exploration of novel ideas and the reaction of humanity to them.”
I think I like Mike’s definition is more closely aligned with my own. Graham has a very broad view of the genre, one which could be spread far enough to include just about everything written. All books, from Diary of a Wimpy Kid to The Count of Monte Cristo are about “ourselves and what it means to be human.” Any book worth its salt will make the reader ask questions such as those he mentions.
For me, even though the human element is one of the most important pieces of a well-written science-fiction book, I think it is the crucial element in any book, and not what distinguishes science-fiction as a genre. The ingredient for me which means that a work lands in the sci-fi bin is the setting in which it is placed. That environment needs to be notably different from the world around us, and the difference caused by a level of technology which we have not (yet) achieved.
For example, I still feel like the early books in The Dragonriders of Pern series are works of fantasy. The people in the stories; Lessa, F’lar, Menolly, and even Ramoth and Mnementh; live a very low-tech life and the enemy they fight and the tools they use to fight them are equally rudimentary. Later books, though, have dramatically shifted the genre to be science fiction. It turns out that the ancestors of those people had colonized from Earth in great starships. The dragons were genetically modified from indigenous animals. A giant computer is discovered which helps them regain their lost level of technology.
That the later books change the history of the earlier books does not make the earlier books science fiction because the setting of the earlier books, the environment in which they live and work, has not changed.
Anyway, that’s what I think. Feel free to leave me a comment and disagree.
Day Twenty-eight: Friday, 6 August, 2010
I didn’t sleep much better this morning. I had gotten in the habit of getting up around 6:00 am while at the Jamboree, which meant I woke up on my own at 5:00 am, local time. By 6:00, I had given up trying to get back to sleep and just got up and started moving.
The hotel shuttle took me back to George Bush International, which was a good 25 minute drive. I checked my bag in (they fortunately did not charge me the bag check fee a second time) and headed into the main terminal.
IAH is huge. I mean, really, really big. It has 5 terminals, with 61 restaurants of various sizes and descriptions, 83 retail stores, and 9 Starbucks. There’s even a Marriott between terminals A and B. Part of this makes sense to me. I mean, it is convenient to pick up a few items while you’re travelling, and a good hot meal while you’re waiting is always welcome. Most of it does not, however. There’s an entire mall inside there, and a giant mall at that. Yet you have to be a ticketed passenger who has gone through a security checkpoint to get at all of it. Craziness.
The ticketing agent I had spoken with the night before told me that there was a chance I could get on an earlier flight, so I went to the gate where the first flight would be leaving from. The agent there told me that it would be impossible to fly out early because I had already checked my bag and I had to be on the same flight as it was.
Well that made life simpler; all I had to do then was wait. And wait. I got some lunch. I ate dinner. Then I finally got on my plane and flew home.
When I arrived, my bag never came through on the carrousel. It was locked up in a storage area because it had flown to Portland on the first flight of the day instead.
Figures.
Anyway, it’s great to be home! Brian’s flight was delayed again, and he arrived a couple of hours after me. He spent the night in Atlanta, but he is also home safe now.
All is well.
The hotel shuttle took me back to George Bush International, which was a good 25 minute drive. I checked my bag in (they fortunately did not charge me the bag check fee a second time) and headed into the main terminal.
IAH is huge. I mean, really, really big. It has 5 terminals, with 61 restaurants of various sizes and descriptions, 83 retail stores, and 9 Starbucks. There’s even a Marriott between terminals A and B. Part of this makes sense to me. I mean, it is convenient to pick up a few items while you’re travelling, and a good hot meal while you’re waiting is always welcome. Most of it does not, however. There’s an entire mall inside there, and a giant mall at that. Yet you have to be a ticketed passenger who has gone through a security checkpoint to get at all of it. Craziness.
The ticketing agent I had spoken with the night before told me that there was a chance I could get on an earlier flight, so I went to the gate where the first flight would be leaving from. The agent there told me that it would be impossible to fly out early because I had already checked my bag and I had to be on the same flight as it was.
Well that made life simpler; all I had to do then was wait. And wait. I got some lunch. I ate dinner. Then I finally got on my plane and flew home.
When I arrived, my bag never came through on the carrousel. It was locked up in a storage area because it had flown to Portland on the first flight of the day instead.
Figures.
Anyway, it’s great to be home! Brian’s flight was delayed again, and he arrived a couple of hours after me. He spent the night in Atlanta, but he is also home safe now.
All is well.
05 August, 2010
Day Twenty-seven: Thursday, 5 August, 2010
I didn’t sleep very much last night. It was probably a combination of things that was responsible. First, I got a little bit of a nap, so I didn’t drop immediately to sleep when I lay down, like I am used to. Not falling right asleep, I started worrying about what would happen if I overslept. Since I was slated for the last shuttle out, probably nothing good. It would have cost around $150 for a taxi to Richmond. Then, of course there was the chainsaw snorer in the bunk above mine. Whatever the reason, I didn’t get more than twenty consecutive minutes of sleep all night.
At quarter to five, I’d had enough and just got up and got dressed. I walked down to the dining hall, where all they had today was donuts and coffee. Neither one appealed to me, so I went back and finished packing up and headed for the bus that would take me to the shuttle bus.
The bus to the bus rolled out right on time at 6:00 am. The 8:00 shuttle to the Richmond airport filled up and left at 6:42 am, and the one behind it in line started filling up.
We disembarked at the airport just before 8 am, and I went past the check in area without ever seeing it. I was not the only one either. A whole group of us got to the security line still holding the bags we wanted to check and had to get directions back.
After I checked in my big heavy bag (it weighed in at 38 pounds; I had worried a little about if it was over the 50# limit, and had considered leaving some things behind; glad I didn’t), I found myself with almost 10 hours before my flight left.
So I left the airport and walked to the Virginia Aviation Museum that I had seen just before we arrived. It had an SR-71 parked in front, which was a big attraction for me. After I took pictures, I discovered that the museum didn’t open until 9:30.
I wondered for a while what to do next. I could see a couple of restaurants and 3 motels across the road, and my first instinct was to find a place to sit down and use someone’s free wi-fi to post my blog entries. When I said ‘across the road’ though, what I meant was across a road and two divided highways and three drainage ditches. I tried walking parallel for a while, in search of a crosswalk, but after four blocks, I gave that up as unproductive. The traffic wasn’t that heavy, and it was actually more difficult crossing the ditches without getting wet than crossing the highways.
Aunt Sarah’s Pancake House seemed the most promising of those I walked by, so I doubled back to it. They served a delicious mushroom and Monterrey jack omelette, but didn’t have wi-fi. I wasn’t really hungry, but I didn’t have any problem finishing either.
By the time the bill came and I settled up, the museum was open, so I headed back across the obstacle course. I’d say I did it without getting wet, but the grass was still damp from the overnight thunderstorms.
The museum was not very large, but it had a lot of history packed inside. I very much enjoyed the almost two hours I spent there.
I hiked back into the terminal and through security. Fortunately, the airport didn’t seem to be that busy. I remembered to disconnect my insulin pump and tuck it into my coat before I went through the line. This saved me from the dreaded, “Please step to one side, sir,” comments, along with the accompanying wanding and frisking. I usually forget until too late.
I sat at my gate a little after noon, along with six others from the Jamboree staff, who had a wait of at least a couple more hours. My flight doesn’t start boarding until 5:35 pm. But, I did determine that RIC has free wi-fi, so it is now time to update the blog again.
Clearly, the fates are conspiring against me. We started hearing announcements before three that Dulles was rerouting planes to Richmond because of thunderstorms. They arrived here just before 6. If our plane from Houston had arrived on time, I’m sure we could have made it out ahead of the storm, but it didn’t and we didn’t. Once there was lightning in the area, we couldn’t board the plane, nor would they fuel it up, so we didn’t get off the ground until well after 8:00. The flight was two hours late getting to Houston, and so I missed my connection.
I stood in line at the service desk trying to figure out how I’m going to get home. They booked me on the same flight tomorrow, departing at 8:50 pm. They gave me a discount coupon for a local hotel, and recommended I come back tomorrow. When I asked about getting my checked bag so I would have clean clothes, they said it would take a couple of hours for it to come by on the carousel, because they only had one guy still working in baggage.
!?!
So another passenger and I sat and waited and waited in the baggage claim area. Finally I saw there was a baggage office and I went in to ask how long it would take for our bags to show up. They said there wasn’t anyone still working in terminal B. I could go over to terminal C and see if maybe they could find it for me.
So I did. It was a long time coming. Then I called the hotel they recommended and had them send me a shuttle to pick me up. By the time I checked in, got ready for bed, and updated the old blog, it was 3 am.
At least this time I can sleep in without a 5:30 round of alarms.
At quarter to five, I’d had enough and just got up and got dressed. I walked down to the dining hall, where all they had today was donuts and coffee. Neither one appealed to me, so I went back and finished packing up and headed for the bus that would take me to the shuttle bus.
The bus to the bus rolled out right on time at 6:00 am. The 8:00 shuttle to the Richmond airport filled up and left at 6:42 am, and the one behind it in line started filling up.
We disembarked at the airport just before 8 am, and I went past the check in area without ever seeing it. I was not the only one either. A whole group of us got to the security line still holding the bags we wanted to check and had to get directions back.
After I checked in my big heavy bag (it weighed in at 38 pounds; I had worried a little about if it was over the 50# limit, and had considered leaving some things behind; glad I didn’t), I found myself with almost 10 hours before my flight left.
So I left the airport and walked to the Virginia Aviation Museum that I had seen just before we arrived. It had an SR-71 parked in front, which was a big attraction for me. After I took pictures, I discovered that the museum didn’t open until 9:30.
I wondered for a while what to do next. I could see a couple of restaurants and 3 motels across the road, and my first instinct was to find a place to sit down and use someone’s free wi-fi to post my blog entries. When I said ‘across the road’ though, what I meant was across a road and two divided highways and three drainage ditches. I tried walking parallel for a while, in search of a crosswalk, but after four blocks, I gave that up as unproductive. The traffic wasn’t that heavy, and it was actually more difficult crossing the ditches without getting wet than crossing the highways.
Aunt Sarah’s Pancake House seemed the most promising of those I walked by, so I doubled back to it. They served a delicious mushroom and Monterrey jack omelette, but didn’t have wi-fi. I wasn’t really hungry, but I didn’t have any problem finishing either.
By the time the bill came and I settled up, the museum was open, so I headed back across the obstacle course. I’d say I did it without getting wet, but the grass was still damp from the overnight thunderstorms.
The museum was not very large, but it had a lot of history packed inside. I very much enjoyed the almost two hours I spent there.
I hiked back into the terminal and through security. Fortunately, the airport didn’t seem to be that busy. I remembered to disconnect my insulin pump and tuck it into my coat before I went through the line. This saved me from the dreaded, “Please step to one side, sir,” comments, along with the accompanying wanding and frisking. I usually forget until too late.
I sat at my gate a little after noon, along with six others from the Jamboree staff, who had a wait of at least a couple more hours. My flight doesn’t start boarding until 5:35 pm. But, I did determine that RIC has free wi-fi, so it is now time to update the blog again.
Clearly, the fates are conspiring against me. We started hearing announcements before three that Dulles was rerouting planes to Richmond because of thunderstorms. They arrived here just before 6. If our plane from Houston had arrived on time, I’m sure we could have made it out ahead of the storm, but it didn’t and we didn’t. Once there was lightning in the area, we couldn’t board the plane, nor would they fuel it up, so we didn’t get off the ground until well after 8:00. The flight was two hours late getting to Houston, and so I missed my connection.
I stood in line at the service desk trying to figure out how I’m going to get home. They booked me on the same flight tomorrow, departing at 8:50 pm. They gave me a discount coupon for a local hotel, and recommended I come back tomorrow. When I asked about getting my checked bag so I would have clean clothes, they said it would take a couple of hours for it to come by on the carousel, because they only had one guy still working in baggage.
!?!
So another passenger and I sat and waited and waited in the baggage claim area. Finally I saw there was a baggage office and I went in to ask how long it would take for our bags to show up. They said there wasn’t anyone still working in terminal B. I could go over to terminal C and see if maybe they could find it for me.
So I did. It was a long time coming. Then I called the hotel they recommended and had them send me a shuttle to pick me up. By the time I checked in, got ready for bed, and updated the old blog, it was 3 am.
At least this time I can sleep in without a 5:30 round of alarms.
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