Chapter 9: Flying Fish for Vandergast

For more than one year, Decurion Fred Fish had been the busiest man of the whole planet. He was the only engineer, the master of the replicators. Everything that needed to be built, that an AI was not able to handle, went through his office. Nobody had known how little of the possibilities the colony had used before Fred Fish had arrived. Trudy, one of his concubines, was a great help. She knew as much about AI aided design as Fred. But since he was the sponsor and she was a concubine, he checked everything before it left the office. Her mistakes would have been his mistakes. Those were the Confederacy rules.

They had designed the Mammoth transport spaceship class from scratch and modified nearly one hundred Confederacy machines, vehicles, suits and other stuff to adapt them to human anatomy.

After one year where Fred and Trudy had been working days of twelve hours and more, they finally got assistance in the form of three engineers that the Mammoth-3 brought out on her maiden trip. After Fred and Trudy had shown them the basics of their new job, Fred allowed them both the luxury of a one-week holiday. Of course they received several calls for help, but all in all it was a very relaxing week.

One evening, when Fred sat on the flat roof of his ‘Basalt Column House’, watching the sundown and the clear sky, Fred remembered a bet he had made with Centurion Mark Evans Benish at his first working day. “AI, can you simulate my gesture controlled design facility here?”

<As long as the complexity of the designed objects don’t exceed that of a shuttle, I can do that.>

“Nothing nearly that complex. Gimme the basic shape of a ray, I mean the fish from Earth.” The holographic image appeared before him. “Very nice. Triple its size. I want to build an artificial air ray. We’ll use helium-filled foam for the core body and electro-contracting synthetics for the muscles that animate the wings. Surround the foam core with a layer of electro-relaxant synthetics. Take photovoltaic sheeting for the skin. Now we need a Pico-AI for autonomous operations, a set of sensors and a holographic projector, all the smallest available size from an observation drone. Add a rechargeable battery of appropriate capacity. How much weight do we have until now?”

<The object has a mass of twelve hundred and fifty grams and a volume of about one cubic meter. The volume and therefore the lift of the object can be varied by contracting the foam core between nine hundred and thirteen hundred grams under standard atmospheric conditions.>

Fred grinned. “That’s the weight I hoped for. Add all the needed connections so the AI can control all the synthetic muscles and the other parts.” Fred changed the outer shape a little and repositioned the heavier parts to give the ray a better balance.

“Now for the movement of the ray. I thought of basically two movement types,” Fred said. He stretched out his arms and twirled his fingers. “This is for slow movements and navigation. Only the edges of the wings move in waves.” Then he swung his arms up and down, indicating changing blade angles with his hands. “This is the pattern for fast movement, where the complete wings move. Give the Pico-AI those patterns. It should learn and improve to develop the most efficient moving methods with a minimum of energy.”

The AI let the hologram show the different movements. They looked very elegant.

“Simulate the ray. How fast can it move?” Fred asked.

<In mode one, the ray can travel fifteen kilometers per hour. In mode two, it can speed up to thirty-seven kilometers per hour,> the AI answered.

“Very good. Send this to my office. Translate the holographic plan into a replicator pattern and produce one in the workshop-replicator at my office.”

In the meantime, the sun had vanished under the horizon. Fred was sitting in the dark, watching the stars. After a while, he said, “AI, block Wanda from listening for twenty minutes.”

<Confirmed.>

“Is a Pico-AI capable of running the Avatar program package?” Fred asked.

<A Pico-AI could hold the package in it’s storage but it would be barely able to run the program in its full complexity. An Avatar would be very limited and there would be no capacity left for other tasks,> the AI answered. <May I ask what you have in mind?>

“Wanda always states that she feels more physical than she really is,” Fred replied. “I am thinking of creating a puppet body very similar to the ray, but with the look and size of Wanda. So we would need a bigger AI than the Pico, maybe the P3 model?”

<The P3-AI has sufficient capacities to run an Avatar package and control a synthetic body.> The AI showed a transparent model of Wanda, placing the AI cube in the chest.

Fred smiled. “Is this a hint of romantic thinking that you placed the core of her being in the chest where a human’s heart is, instead of her head?”

<No, it was just a calculation of available space.>

“Well then,” Fred grinned. “I had thought of using Diamond-Fiber for the bones and enough electro-contracting synthetics for the muscles to make her as strong as a grown human.”

<Isn’t that a bit too strong for a creature that’s only thirty centimeters high?> the AI asked.

“Wanda has to interact with humans. She needs to be strong enough to be physically helpful.”

The thin strings of synthetic muscles thickened visibly. But on the hologram it still looked as if they were horribly underdeveloped.

“To allow her to fly around we can use the gravitational engines of a drone. I want optical and acoustical sensors in her head. Pressure and temperature sensors all over the skin. What chemical sensors are available to simulate human senses of smell and taste?”

<We have a variety of micro-sensors for chemicals that, in combination, make an approximation of the human sense of scent. You could even make it far more sensitive than the human sense,> the AI replied, showing different lists of sensor sets. Fred selected a set of fifteen sensors that were altogether not larger than a square millimeter.

“For using her nose, she needs to breathe. We’ll make it simple. Place a small hard container in her chest with a foam-filled sac that’s covered with electro-contracting synthetics. It only needs to pump air through the nose and mouth.

“For recharging the batteries I thought of an induction system. Or do we have photovoltaic sheeting that allows her to keep her light complexion?”

<A light complexion is possible but it will reduce the photoelectric capacity. I suggest implementing both systems.>

“Do so,” Fred ordered. The image of Wanda now showed the complex structure of an anatomic illustrative model, with a small AI cube and a lung in her chest, a drone’s gravitational engine in her lower body and batteries in her thighs. There was still plenty of free space available.

“Connect all the sensors and the synthetic muscles with the AI. Fill the remaining free space with soft rubber. Make the software interface for controlling the body similar to that of her holographic image, so she can handle the body just as easily. Lock this in and send it to my office. And please hide it from Wanda. I want to make this a surprise for her,” Fred ordered.

<Confirmed,> the AI replied.

Centurion Mark Evans Benish was sitting in his office, working on new plans for planetary jobs for concubine-level newcomers from Earth. The mission of the Mammoth-3 colony transport ship had increased the problem because they had unassigned male concubines on board. The standard procedure would have been to recycle them. That was not an option on Vandergast. Mark still didn’t understand how a peaceful multiracial civilization like the Confederacy could kill them that easily just because they had no sponsor.

<Centurion Evans Benish, Decurion Fred Fish wishes to talk to you,> the AI suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

“Put the call through,” Mark said.

“Hello Mark, do you have a crate of Earth beer at hand? I intend to collect on our bet,” Fred said. He was obviously in good mood.

“Err, sorry, what bet do you mean?” Mark asked.

“Hey, don’t tell me you forgot that. You asked me to build a flying fish, a ray to be specific. I plan to test it this evening. There will be a few friends, finger food from the local party service and a surprise guest with a crate of beer, I hope. What do you say? You will also be welcome without the beer,” Fred chuckled.

“Oh, that bet. Now I remember. You are lucky. L’ielit ‘recruited’ three crates of Budweiser on her last trip to Earth for me. Tell me where and when, I’ll be there,” Mark said.

“Today, five PM, at my house. See you later.”

“Bye Fred.” The AI terminated the connection. There were two things Mark really missed since he had left Earth. Beer and a sky filled with birds.

It seemed that replicators were producing poor quality on purpose when it came to alcohol. They had tried everything in the past. They had fed the best and most expensive samples to the replicators but all they got in return was a cheap broth. The best they could do was replicate some poor quality gin or vodka and mix it with fruit juices for cocktails of acceptable quality. Of course that was not the best solution for someone who just loved to drink a good beer or wine from time to time. Now that Vandergast had its own fleet, Mark was in the lucky position of being able to ask one of the officers for a small favor every time they went to Earth. A good beer was still rare on Vandergast, so it was always a good wager for an interesting trade or bet.