The Picard Manoeuvre - Cover

The Picard Manoeuvre

Copyright© 2017 by Tedbiker

Chapter 7

They met at breakfast in the communal hall, and chatted easily over a substantial breakfast. “We might be busy at lunch-time. We’ll see how we go,” Gladys told her friend.

They walked to the ‘Brewhouse’. Gladys, of course, was as fit as might be expected with her background. Scott, while he certainly kept as fit as he could, was less accustomed and a little short of breath when they got there.

“You’re a bit out of condition,” Gladys smiled.

He sighed, jerkily, as his lungs tried to catch up with the exertion. “I know. But don’t forget your training is a bit different to mine. I spend a lot of time supine in a couch, and only isometrics to keep from falling apart.”

“Sorry! I was only teasing!”

“I know. But you’re right, and I need to work on it. Especially if I want to be around you much. Which...” he paused, and looked at her with a raised eyebrow, “I do.”

“Good! Now. The first priority is hygiene.” They entered the building and she led the way to the stack of equipment. “This is – or ought to be – clean, but we’ll scrub it all anyway and make sure there are no traces of the manufacturing process, or any grime from transport.”


Now, I love beer, but what I know about brewing it wouldn’t fill a postcard. I hope I may be forgiven for passing over the details. Sufficient to say, they worked together and while waiting for various stages of the process, used the time to work in the simulator. Gladys actually became a competent co-pilot. With almost anyone else, I’d’ve thought they were becoming ‘an item’, and I said so in Anya and Romy’s hearing. They didn’t say anything, just looked at me with that female, smug, ‘he’s only a mere male’ expression.

I rather lost track, but I’d guess it was the better part of an Earth month when Andromeda informed me of the impending first actual flight of the hyper-ship Scott ... and Gladys, of course ... had been training in. We ... Romy and I ... flew over to the hangar and watched as Scott and Gladys disappeared inside. Perhaps half an hour, maybe an hour (it seemed like an eternity) later, a section of the hillside quite some distance away lifted; silently, as far as I could tell. Later still, the ship glided out, humming quietly. Once clear, the ... door? Door will do, I suppose ... closed and the ship lifted and accelerated rapidly towards Base. Romy and I rode back more slowly.

The ship was ready – kept fuelled and serviced – and Scott and Gladys were ready. The scientists were not, and it took the better part of a day before they were all aboard with everything they thought they needed.

The delay didn’t really matter, as it would take hours to reach a point where they could make a hyper-translation; not too much different to fold-space in that respect. Scott would sleep, leaving Gladys on watch. She was wide-eyed as that was discussed and Scott smiled at her. “Look, you’re trained, you know what to do, and I’ll be right there if you need me. I sleep lightly.”

“Well, okay, I suppose.”

We watched them lift off; I may well have been light green – I certainly wished it was me at the controls – but I looked at Romy, then at Anya. The love, and the compassion, I could clearly see in their eyes just melted me. Would I exchange what I had with them for space? Well, no. But it was a bit of a struggle.


There was little point in going to another system; the nearest by hyper-space was barren anyway. Instead, at the hyper-limit, Scott slowed the vessel to less than 0.3c. The higher the velocity at translation, the more disturbing it was to pilot and passengers. Translation at more than 0.5c was actually dangerous.

The scientists watched quietly as they made what Scott thought of as ‘upward’ translations, through the Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Epsilon, Zeta and Theta bands. They moved within the Theta band for an hour before reversing course.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, I intend to begin ‘downward’ translations at the point we entered this band, to minimise the time we need to return to Andromeda. Is this acceptable to you all?”

The most senior scientist, a stern-looking woman, spare with short salt and pepper hair, actually smiled. “That’s fine, Commander, thank you. It’s been a most fascinating experience. How long before we could actually make the journey to, say, Earth?”

“I’m not sure I can answer that, Professor. I haven’t got a grip on the equivalence (if any) between the topology of f-space and hyper. We may not even be in the same sector of the galaxy. You need to discuss that with Andromeda.”

“Well, thank you anyway, Commander. We’re making strides in understanding the cosmos, and this has been a help.”


The return of the ship was both an event and an anticlimax; she settled lightly in the place from which she’d left about forty hours before. The scientists left, carrying their bags, engrossed in discussions with each other and an air of excitement. Their unofficial chief, Professor Atkinson, paused long enough to shake hands with Scott. As she left, she smiled at me – the first time I’d seen an expression anything like it on her face. Come to think of it, I’d never seen anything other than a neutral expression on her face.

I went to Scott. Gladys was standing just behind and to the side of him.

“I gather it went well,” I asserted.

“No problems,” Scott said. “Professor Atkinson seemed very pleased and,” he glanced at Gladys, “my co-pilot did her job perfectly. We just need some understanding of the astrography. Once we have that, we could perhaps make some passages. Do something useful.” After a pause, he went on, “I suppose we’d better take the ship back to the hangar.”

“Why not leave her there?” I asked. “I’m sure she’ll be wanted pretty soon, and she can always be put away later.”

He shrugged. “If you’re happy with that. I’d just as soon take a break. I want to see if there’s any real food available.”

“Yeah – me too,” Gladys inserted.


“Gladys...” he hesitated, but her expression encouraged him to go on. “You’re pretty; I’d have thought you’d have guys lining up for you.” He wished he’d not asked when her expression changed. “I’m sorry...” he said, beginning to rise from the table.

She reached out to take his hand. “Don’t go.” He resumed his seat and she kept hold of his hand. “I told you I’m hermaphrodite. Normally, you’d hardly tell there was anything unusual, but if I’m roused ... well ... everything ... male ... down there ... grows.”

“So...”

“So, I get to the point where we’re getting naked, and I get excited, and he takes one look at me and gets dressed and leaves.”

“Oh, how ... humiliating.”

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