Chapter 24

Nikki’s turn:

Phone call from Cindy. “Hey, Cin,” I said.

“Hey yourself. Have you heard the news?”

“It’s seven-thirty in the evening. I heard Dan say something about a new airplane. So what’s the news?”

“How pregnant ARE you?”

“You know exactly how pregnant I am, girl,” I said. “Why?”

‘Flight training in Florida. Orlando. You need...”

“I just got my instrument rating. Commercial ticket’s three months old, like my multi-engine rating. What kind of flight training?”

“You’ll have to google this one – Daher 930.”

“Hang on. Lemme get my iPad.” I pulled up Safari and punched in ‘Daher 930’. “It’s UGLY, Cin! Look at the nose on that beast.”

“I know,” Cindy said. “Like the long nose on the Air Tractors. Gotta balance that little gas turbine against the rest of the airplane aft of the center of gravity.”

“Well, thank you for the lesson on weight and balance,” I said with a tinge of sarcasm.

“Oh, you know...”

“So ‘splain me the deal.”

“The deal is that our red-headed forest nymph of a sister seems to be in possession of the heir to some of Solheim Limited and Uncle Jan says his heir doesn’t need to be flyin’ around the country in some antiquated rattletrap.”

“That’s OUR antiquated rattletrap,” I said, “And I remember how giddy you were when we got ‘er.”

“I remember, too. My Songbird,” she said, sighing. We both remember the excitement. I’m qualified to fly twins now, and I’ve been pilot in command on Songbird many times, sometimes with Cindy for a co-pilot, sometimes with another person sitting in the right seat with me, but Cindy’s the one who has the history – the one time Songbird lost an engine was Cindy’s bit of excitement. With me, the old thing is boringly reliable.

“So how’s this thing become OURS?” I said. Yes, I was excited. Maybe not QUITE as excited as Cindy. She really has an affinity for flying, above and beyond mine. But I wasn’t too far behind her. And I knew that announcing that I wanted to go to flight training was going to put MY Dan on edge. After I miscarried on our first pregnancy, he’s been very protective this time.

“What’s that about?” he asked. “Cindy’s up to something...”

“She wants me to go to Florida for training on that new airplane.”

“No.”

“Babyyyyyy,” I whined, “the doctor says flying is okay.”

“Rather not risk it, princess.”

“Oh, come on ... You come there with me. It’s Orlando.”

“I will NOT wear Mickey Mouse ears,” he said.

“Wasn’t part of the plan. I was thinking ‘nice hotel room’. Me and you...”

“We can do that here...”

“I get kinda ... you know ... hotel room.”

“Baby doll,” he smiled, “Any more and you’re going to overpressure my heart.”

“Nonsense,” I giggled. “It’s good to push the limits...” I’m winning.

“Where’s it stop?” he asked. “We run an engineering house and that robotics asylum of yours...”

“It’s not mine. It’s almost autonomous. The Munchkins...”

“I know,” he conceded. “But adult leadership.”

“We have Jerry Stengall.”

“Whom the pTerridactyl leads around on a leash.”

“She does NOT. She’s cute ... He’s...”

“Possibly the most patient man in the universe.”

I giggled. “She got a birthday card from Judge Peebles, you know...”

“I know. Still. She’s thirteen now...”

“Her mom’s signed over full custody. Something about her condition being chronic and inconsistent with the ability to act as a responsible parent.”

“I hope those genes didn’t cross over,” he said.

“Me, too. I can’t imagine life here without Terri just the way she is.”

“Any of ‘em. But Terri’s special.”

“You’re special,” I said, “Letting me go to that training with Cindy.”

“You oughta get Wally to give you some work with turbine engines.”

“I’ll do that.”

“WITHOUT the chemicals...”

“Yessir.”

“And what’s Cindy gonna do? I mean, we just got that stable of bizjets. She’s going to get training...”

Cindy’s turn:

One of the things about 3Sigma Robotics working with the Department of Defense is that we often have representatives of various branches of service show up for what one of them called ‘phase checks’.

This particular day it was Major Aaron Kettler, USAF. Bright guy. Nice looking. I’ve never met a really stupid one. The guy does technical stuff for the Air Force, for pete’s sake. No dummy. Working on a PhD himself.

He showed up at the office one day, introduced himself.

“I’m Cindy Richards,” I said. “I guess I’m supposed to say ‘Doctor Cynthia Richards, PhD’ or something, but to everybody here, I’m Cindy.”

“They warned me,” he said with a pleasant smile. “Also told me that if I messed up here, I’d be the new logistics officer in Lower Slobbovia.”

“Oh, we’re easy,” I said. “Just don’t make assumptions based on any physical observation. Want the fifty-cent tour?”

“Absolutely.”

He looked around my office. Pictures. Oldest is me standing on the foundation of a pump at the powerplant project where I first got the title of ‘Engineer’s apprentice’. And there were pictures of me and a few airplanes – Hanna’s red Extra. Wally’s yellow and blue Air Tractor. Me and the ‘rescuers’ beside Songbird on the taxiway in Kansas.

“They said you’re a pilot,” he said. “Gonna say two words, Doctor Cynthia Richards.”

I looked at him.

“Air Force.”

“What?”

“Get you a commission, lady...”

“You realize that I’m not quite nineteen...”

“Still do it. You’d be around...”

“Major Kettler,” I said, “you’re treading on dangerous ground. You promise me the cockpit of an F-35, I’m going to have to claim inappropriate behavior...”

“Cindy, you’d be wasted. R&D.”

“I’m doing R&D. And I’m flying. Might not be the hottest civilian aircraft available, but I do get to play with a variety.”

“Something for you to consider,” he said. “Now. About that tour.”

My head was swimming as I led him out the door. Visions of Cindy Richards, late of a trailer park in Lower Alabama, sitting in the cockpit of an F-35. I shook my head. Get over yourself, Cindy. You would spend too much time away from your Dan, your source of life.

Out in the open lab area, Terri and Jerry and Tommy and Derek were working on what we called ‘the insect’.

“Arthropod,” Terri explained to Major Kettler. “We’re sort of experimenting with the advantages we might gain with the low profile offered by the ‘centipede’ model.”

“Hang on,” Derek said.

I watched Major Kettler’s eyes as he regarded what might be conceived as an interruption by twelve year old Derek. Those thoughts should’ve been tempered by equally thirteen year old Terri’s ‘arthropod’ explanation.

“Son...” Major Kettler started.

Derek grinned impishly. “Dad...” he tossed back. “If I’m your son. I’m going to show you how we can add a segment to Terri’s centipede. These segments come in various configurations. This one’s a meteorological module. Transmits environmental data.”

He flipped open a cover on the back of the arthropod and dropped the connector for the new segment into place.

“We have just connected several buses here,” Derek explained. “Power bus, for equalizing power usage across the different segments ... data bus for control, data bus for information...”

“The basic arthropod has three segments. Gives us mobility. The thoracic segment is the master microprocessor and control unit, and each of the mobility segments is dedicated to power management – batteries, mainly,” Terri said, way more seriously than you expect out of a thirteen-year-old pixie.

“It’s also got the basic imaging package,” Derek added.

“You got any input here?” Major Kettler asked Tommy.

“I’m just standing here letting them do their thing. Nothing they’ve said is wrong, and if you get curious, they’re as apt to give you more information than you need as I am.”

“Seriously?”

Jerry likes to brag on Terri. “Sir,” he said, “this is Terri Addison. She’s been a paid consultant to Google for three years. She’s been on DOD payroll for slightly less than that. Derek’s just chronologically behind her a bit. Me ‘n’ Tommy are the ‘real engineers’ only by accreditation. We’ve graduated. Terri will graduate in two months with a bachelor’s degree in electrical engineering. That’s hereditary. Her dad and her step-mom are double E’s. Terri’s breaking new ground in robotics and autonomous systems.”

I watched Major Kettler’s face as he parsed all that speech. I also watched Terri’s face, adoring Jerry, who adores her right back.

“Okay,” Derek said. “Bug’s ready to go.”

Major Kettler looked down at the arthropod, now with four segments.

“Okay,” Terri said. “Here’s his readout on my iPhone, including real-time video of what he sees in both visible and infrared spectra. You do, of course, realize that we can do multiple RF channels and encryption, right?”

The major nodded.

“Okay, so we’ll send the bug out.” She yelled, “Bug’s loose on the floor. Watch your feet.”

The bug raised up off its resting position on its belly and skittered off.

“We can control it off this iPhone app,” Terri said. “Or we can pre-program.”

“Path or destination,” Tommy said. “Terri’s autonomy modules let it loose to find its own way.” He turned to Derek, who was now controlling. “Derek, send it to the back door, freestyle.”

“Sure,” Derek said.

“I recognize that sound,” Major Kettler said. “Can’t quite place it...”

“Theme from Hogan’s Heroes, in a loop,” I said. “My husband’s idea. He used to watch with his dad. Bot’s got a silent mode. If we slow him down, he gets downright stealthy. But there in the lab, we WANT people to know he’s coming.”

“We had to erase his memory of his previous activities,” Jerry said. “He learns. If we’d left his memory intact, he’d go by the most direct path to the door. This way, he has to try different paths, deal with obstacles and dead ends.”

“Here! You hold the phone,” Derek said, offering the iPhone to the major. “So you won’t think I’m controlling the bug.”

“I believe you,” Major Kettler said.

“Hold it,” Derek repeated.

In a minute the bug had tried three dead ends, had navigated around a couple of work benches, avoided three of our staff, and showed up at the back door.

“Impressive,” the major said. “Can you do this to something that flies?”

Terri arched an adolescent eyebrow. “I hardly think you people are behind us in autonomy, Major Kettler.”

“Terri, not necessarily. But we’d be pretty dense not to look at YOUR approach.”

She grinned, raised a hand, wiggling a thumb against her first two fingers. Smiled. “Money.”

“Dammit!” the major said. “Before I start recommending research money, you gotta show me something that flies.”

Giggle. Terri’s eyes twinkled. “How big? We can give you a quadcopter that’s two feet across. Or we MIGHT be encouraged to give you an ultralight aircraft with a two hundred pound payload and a range of three hundred miles.” Her eyes twinkled.

“The FAA’s been really difficult about letting us turn the ultralight loose for testing,” Jerry said.

Major Kettler’s turn to smile. “I have access to a few hundred square miles where you can test anything you want that doesn’t go nuclear.”