Chapter 6

The Delta Ten transport settled, gently as thistle-down, into its place. Several passengers disembarked and stood uncertainly just clear of the ramp. One of the larger ‘cars’ approached and stopped by the ramp and a default avatar exited the vehicle. It only glanced at the newcomers. One of them stepped closer. “Excuse me, but...” and hesitated.

“Welcome to Andromeda, sir,” then, louder, projected to the others, “Ladies, gentlemen, welcome to Andromeda. You are expected, and transport will be here for you shortly to take you for a short orientation presentation. You will be assigned an escort for your guidance and convenience and taken to quarters. I apologise, but I am here to transport freight to its destination.” It turned to face the open hatch.

A stocky, competent-looking female Marine in her duty uniform appeared in the opening. “Sergeant,” the avatar said, “I’m here to take you and your materials to the space assigned for your project.”

“Oh...”

Commander Whitfield appeared next to her. “Sergeant, we’ll give you a hand moving your stuff to the vehicle.”

She stiffened, about to salute, but he smiled, “Relax, sergeant. Let’s get you off with your gear. I’m looking forward to some good beer when you get under way with it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

They disappeared into the ship and with the help of the other crew members rapidly moved large plastic containers, drums of assorted substances, and boxes of equipment clearly labelled ‘FRAGILE’ to the Andromedan car. Gladys Everest was impressed by the versatility of the vehicle as she rode next to her escort. But there was something on her mind other than brewing beer.

“Um ... Andromeda? Is that right?”

“Certainly, Ma’am. I am a projection of the central intelligence. You could address me by another name if you wish and I would then develop an individual character to match our relationship.”

“Oh...” hesitation.

“If I might suggest, there is a word from an Earth language, Voithós. It means ‘Helper’. Would that do as a name?”

“Oh ... why ... yes, Voithós. That will do nicely.”

“You were about to say something – ask something?”

“Well, yes. I was going to ask if you could tell me where Lieutenant Ross was.”

“Lieutenant Ross is undergoing some simulator training. The location is some distance from here.”

“Oh...”

“If you wish, I could take you to him when we’ve unloaded your cargo? That won’t take but a moment.”

“I don’t want to interrupt or interfere with anything.”

“I would not have suggested it if there would be a problem.”

Their arrival at one of the dome-shaped buildings was unremarkable. To anyone unused to Andromeda, though, the transfer of the cargo to small, floating trolleys would have appeared to be magic. Gladys, with Voithós, followed the trolleys into a large, clinically clean, open space, occupied only by catering standard kitchen equipment and tables.

“It was my understanding,” Voithós/Andromeda stated, “that this was all your requirement for the present. As you develop, and as I follow your process, I will be able to provide anything else you require in the future. Including, of course, larger containers for your process, and bottles or ... casks for the final product.”

“Oh! I don’t know what to say...”

“You are pleased, I hope?”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely. This is excellent. And, as you say, as we develop our process to increase production, there is plenty of room here. Thank you!”

“Now, Sergeant. Do you wish to visit your friend?” Gladys hesitated. “You will not be disturbing anything.”

“Then yes, I would.”

It was a journey of some distance – Gladys didn’t know how far, but guessed at fifty kilometres, so it was necessary to fly in one of the air-cars rather than a surface vehicle. It was to a location, logically enough, which had only been surveyed superficially. There was little to indicate what was there, even when the vehicle landed and Gladys was led to the entrance.

It might have been a natural rise in the landscape – quite a large one. Wasn’t. What she saw, getting out of the car looked like a grassy slope. Wasn’t. A section of the slope tilted to reveal an opening three metres high by two wide, with a pathway sloping gently down.

Inside, the cavernous space, only partly occupied by enormous star-ships, took her breath away. Each ship faced what looked like a large door.

“We’ll take a truck,” Voithós told her, indicating something that might have been an Earth golf-cart as designed by an SF writer. “It’s quite a way across the hangar.”

“How on earth is the roof supported?”

A very human chuckle. “You’re not on Earth, Sergeant. Force-fields. Not too far past current Earth technology, in fact.”

It took several minutes to reach what looked like the smallest of the ships. Smallest does not imply ‘small’, except by bulk transport standards.

Access was by a small ladder into the underside of the beast, not too far behind the ... stem? Prow? Nose? Voithós encouraged her into the control-room, then to recline in the second couch and don a VR helmet. The room came alive around her.

Scott smiled at her. “Welcome aboard, Sergeant. You’re just in time to sit through a downward translation. Ship! Second pilot registering.”

“Understood, Commander.” A mellow, alto voice responded. “Second pilot, place your hands flat on the plates each side of you. State your name, rank and designation.”

Things were happening too quickly for Gladys to keep up with, so she just obeyed.

“Sergeant Gladys Freya Everest, Federation Marine Corps. Personal security specialist.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

The dull black ledges each side of the arms of the couch came alive with displays and Gladys whipped her hands away.

“Uh, uh, second pilot. Hands on the plates,” Scott scolded, with a smile.

Reluctantly, Gladys did as she was told, and suddenly ... she was the ship. Sensuously aware of the ship’s surroundings, though not in the hangar, but in deep space.

“Pretty good, huh?” Scott’s voice quelled her incipient panic.

“Terrifying! But ... stunning, Commander.”

“This is a simulation, in case you were wondering. We are still in the hangar, but it’s hard to believe, I think.”

“Oh, yes.”

A different voice then. “Beta interface translation in five minutes, Commander.”

“Thank you.”

“The transition – translation – between hyper-bands is spectacular, and we get to experience it in all its magnificence.”

Gladys felt as though she was swimming in warm water, but in the middle of an ocean in complete darkness. She floated, somehow calm and serene...

“Translation in ten...” she heard the words, but was too serene to react... “Five, four, three, two, one...”

Flaring light, coruscating, she was blazing with light that shimmered through the whole visual spectrum – and she was sure – beyond, below and above, too, though she had no idea how she knew.

The light faded to blackness once more.

“Alpha translation in ten ... five, four, three, two, one...” and more flaring magnificence. When the light faded again, she was aware of stars freckling the blackness about her.

“Look straight ahead,” Scott’s voice somehow in her head. “See that red star? Not very big at this distance. We’re just outside the minimum distance for a hyper translation. The ‘hyper limit’ varies with the mass of the star concerned and, to an extent, with proximal planets, especially gas giants. We’re not going to continue the simulation all the way this time. I have some studying to do.”

At which the illusion disappeared and she was once more reclining on the pilot’s couch, the helmet on her head now inert. She lifted it off and placed it on her lap.

“Hello, Gladys. Good to see you. Did you enjoy that?”

“Gosh! Wow! I mean ... thanks!”

“So ... how do you come to find this?”

“I asked where you were.”

“Me?”

“Yes – my friend Scott. I thought you’d be interested that I’ve brought everything I ... we ... need to make beer. At least, I hope so. Andromeda has provided a most satisfactory brew house. Hot and cold running water, ovens, you name it. I’ve just brought concentrates for the first batches. Later we can try malting barley ourselves.”

“Oh, I am interested. And you said you wanted to be a pilot.”

“I did. I also said my mathematics weren’t up to flight school.”

“Well, if you want, I’m sure we can get you past that problem.”

The little cart whisked them to the exit, and the air-car back to base, where they got out and looked uncertainly at each other.

“Did you have plans for the evening?” Scott eventually broke an awkward silence.