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  Heat and Light

  Future – Space - Time

  Marc C Neuffer

  Heat and Light is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright 2019 by Marc Neuffer

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States of America

  Author

  [email protected]

  Dedicated to my wife, Lizette

  Thank you for patiently keeping my heart warm and belly full. And, of course, for all your help in editing our book. You were the midwife cleaning up the messes as I delivered chapter after chapter to you, in perhaps a too hurried pace. They wanted to see the light of day and I just had to get them out.

  Other Books

  Prequel to Heat & Light

  Available on Amazon

  Contents

  Title Page

  Other Books

  Editors Note

  Prologue

  PART ONE

  1 Sailor Went to Sea

  2 Rover Red Rover

  3 Humpty Dumpty

  4 Over the Rainbow

  5 Rabbit Hole

  6 Looking Glass

  7 Fair Winds

  8 Shots Fired

  9 Roger Doger

  10 Miss Tuffet

  11 Road Block

  12 Jack be Nimble

  13 Hey Diddle Diddle

  14 Liar, Liar

  15 Crooked Man

  PART TWO

  16 Boat Load

  17 Three Card Monte

  18 Hide and Seek

  19 Pop the Weasel

  20 Court Order

  21 Coin Toss

  22 Goldilocks

  23 Neighbors

  24 Worm Turning

  25 Causality Casualty

  PART THREE

  26 Little Dog Gone

  27 - Knock Knock

  28 Tuesday’s Child

  29 Unto the Breach

  30 Mice and Zen

  31 Descent into Legacy

  PART FOUR

  32 Exit Interview

  PART FIVE

  Epilogue

  Other Books

  Editors Note

  Universal Library Archive H-42-8317

  Shangri La: UL Foundation

  Publication Date: 42 HSY-ARC

  This historical record, published twelve years (human-standard) after rift closure. (HSY-ARC)

  Manuscript sources include interviews, ships' records, AI data blocks, and archives, as well as our personal involvement with the subjects. While there were others who were also central to this story, we chose to focus largely on the first-person perspective of four humans.

  Editor amplifications have been added to give readers an expanded understanding of the events and of the people who experienced them. The Editor Notes are background and explanatory material, which were known to the subjects at the time of each specific event. As editors, we have also added unmarked evaluative comments in appropriate locations within the narrative.

  An organic record of the friendships, love, joys, and heartaches, as well as the physical, mental and psychological challenges experienced by Gene Bonner (Hornblower), Kathrine Sanderson (Sandy), Michael Donaldson (Mica) and Abigail Donaldson (Abby). Without their efforts, the universe would most probably not have survived.

  Prologue

  HEAT: After the fizz, after the pop, heat created time. Quarks, neutrinos, matter, antimatter, strange matter. Hydrogen and helium. Everything else that ever was or ever will be. Fourteen billion years ago.

  LIGHT: Streaming, flowing, issuing from heat’s chaos. Waves of information. Cause and effect. Filling the shadows. Filling the void. Filling the cold dark.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  There was a fly in the thermodynamic soup we call the universe. A small problem that would end everything; you, me, stars, galaxies, time. While working the problem, I became ruler of the universe, king of the hill, a prisoner of my own power, a result of my actions, cause and effect. No good deed goes unpunished. I really just want to be ten years old again. No worries. No authority. No responsibilities. Recycle my life. They tell me they can make that happen, but they don't recommend it.

  Hornblower

  PART ONE

  HORNBLOWER

  1 Sailor Went to Sea

  I was ship shopping. My old ship had still been marginally serviceable, but I'd sold it to make a clean, shiny, bright, new penny start. For eight years, I'd been a rock-hopper, a finder of valuable resources, working the fringes.

  In the cold dark, my crew and I made the biggest hyper-discovery since humans had first jumped away from our home solar system.

  That discovery earned us the largest prospector fee ever paid out. I could have easily followed my crew into a hyper-wealthy retirement, but I still had the space itch. There was no way to scratch it without a ship.

  Ambigon Station, had the biggest, brightest, and best showroom, in this third of the galaxy. Unless I wanted to buy an illegal military cruiser or ten large passenger liners, money was no object. I was that stinking rich.

  I was looking for a new small-boy ship. Part prospector, part short-haul freighter, and occasional off the beaten path passenger vessel.

  I'd found the perfect ship. It was tucked away in the back lot. It wasn't listed in the sales catalog, but it was the only truly multi-function ship on the lot.

  The salesman, reading from his sales tablet, said the ship had been a proof-of-concept prototype. It had been tricked-out as a lure to spark interest in the model. Apparently, there had been no interest. Too expensive for independent operators, too small for any military use, too utilitarian for a private yacht.

  The ship had arrived at the lot just two days ago. The manufacturer had wanted to get it out of their production area. It was being sold for under cost, just to get it gone. Under cost, but twice the price of all the other small-boys.

  Approaching the ship, I noticed it was at least a third larger than the others. One oddity was the skin of the ship. Not the normal smooth hull surface. There were small dimples over every external surface. It looked like uniform hail damage. I ran my hands over the skin and noticed the center of each dimple was a raised blunt cone-like projection. The spec sheet said it was for improved atmospheric dynamics.

  Ships that could enter a planet’s atmosphere used their deflector shield to prevent over-heating of the hull at high speeds in the thinner upper gas regions, but deflector shields became a bit stressed as the atmospheric density increased. They had to be turned off at some point, so aerodynamic hulls were important. Most planetary authorities-imposed speed limits once you came in past the stratosphere. That speed limit was Mach-1, the speed of sound. Sonic booms upset the ground-side citizens.

  Ships didn’t need to have a constant forward motion to stay up. That was the dual job of the inertial dampeners. But having aerodynamic shaping made rides much smoother. The inertial controls also kept crews from being crushed or shaken during high speed boosts or rapid maneuvering. Propulsion and protection; it was all about inertial control. Nobody has ever discovered any way to produce an anti-gravity force, or tractor beam, or transporters. Nobody except the holo-vid writers, anyway.

  Walking around the outside, I saw all the normal sensor nodes. There seemed to be a lot more than necessary, probably the new standard. My last ship had been built over a century ago. It had plenty of slapped-on upgrades over the years, inside and out.

  I read the spec sheet, and just knew this was the one. Going inside, I made a tour of every space. Engineering, environmental, the twin cargo holds, crew and passenger areas, and
my favorite, the bridge. Yep, this was the one.

  I used my credit chip to make the purchase. The salesman was surprised that I’d not financed a single credit. Many times, in the past. I'd mortgaged my old ship. Sometimes just to make payroll.

  After endorsing the legal paperwork, accepting the manufacturer's warranty, and registering my pilot's certificate, I was handed the keys, a digitally encrypted single-use data card that would give me control of the ship. I told the salesman to take the dealership logos off the airlock doors.

  It felt good to take ownership. As soon as I slid in the data key card, the ship AI woke up and welcomed me aboard as the captain.

  2 Rover Red Rover

  In a mellow and androgynous tone, the ship's AI spoke. “Welcome aboard, sir. How should I address you and in what manner?”

  I blinked a few times at that. “Well, you can address me as captain. As for 'in what manner,’ I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Captain, you can customize my voice and my AI personality by using the control sliders I have activated on the communication panel. You can also give me a name so there is no confusion when you issue orders or commands specifically meant for me. I recommend you lock in your adjustments so no one else can make changes.”

  I looked down at the sliders that had appeared. The AI Personality options ran from very informal to formal. There were also adjustments for gender, tonal range, language, and application.

  First, I gave the AI a name I liked: Ranger. I didn't want to say computer every time I needed to talk to the ship. I was going to register the ship under the same name. “Hey, Ranger. What is the Application setting for?”

  Ranger replied, “With that function you can choose any setting between literal to interpretive response. I suggest you choose the middle of the band until we have had more interactions. Also, note that if you are alone on the ship and not using communications to link off-ship, any question you ask or orders you issue will be considered directed to the AI systems without the need for addressing the AI Cores by name.”

  I kept the AI talking, reciting the ship specs as I made adjustments to the interaction settings. Then I locked them in.

  “Captain, this ship has a dual AI. I am designated the primary. We are equally rated. Would you like to adjust the settings for the secondary AI at this time?”

  “Well, I can't have you both responding to the same command. How do you recommend we split up the workload?”

  “May I suggest you use the same settings for the Secondary AI as you selected for mine but perhaps change the gender tone and inflections to female. You might consider placing the secondary AI in continuous analysis mode to avoid response conflicts.”

  I could always change the settings later. “OK, Ranger, set the secondary AI to Female and name the secondary Traveler.”

  A mellow chime sounded. “Good morning, Captain. I am Traveler. Ranger and I are designed to operate, repair, and maintain all ship systems, including navigation, control, maintenance, and repair. We work together to ensure the safety of the ship and its occupants.”

  “Hello, Traveler. I haven't reviewed all the tertiary systems yet. How do you handle repairs?”

  “Sir, the ship comes with three bots for housekeeping, three cargo bots, and twelve repair bots. Each repair bot is assigned one primary function, such as propulsion, controls, habitation, environmental, and hull structure.

  “Where are these bots?” I had seen then listed in the spec sheets but hadn't noticed any bot storage slots during my inspection.”

  “The bots are distributed throughout the ship based on their function. You can find them behind wall panels in their assigned sections. The slots for the hull-bots also have access to the ship's exterior via separate airlocks. I will enable labels on the bot panels. If you would like, I can direct all the bots to one of the cargo areas for your inspection.”

  “Maybe later, Ranger. First I want to do a full inspection of my ship.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I fell into my rack, pleasantly exhausted. It took fifteen hours to complete the ship inspection while quizzing Ranger and Traveler.

  The raw material bins for the fabricators were fully stocked. That was nice. They were top of the line models and could make anything I needed, including all ship parts and tools.

  I told the AIs that, before I turned in, I needed to get started on a parts and supply list. We needed to order and receive those items from the station before departing. Traveler replied that she could build a detailed shopping list and find suppliers with the best price while I slept. These two AIs were light-years ahead of the rudimentary one on my last ship.

  The next morning, I woke stiff and sore. I'd always worked to stay in relatively good condition, but I'd overdone it yesterday. Crawling, twisting, and climbing into every nook and cranny of the ship was hard physical work. My cure was a long hot shower and a good breakfast.

  Traveler's chine sounded. “Captain, we have received communication from Ambigon Station. They wish to remind us that we have another forty-eight hours free stay time, after which docking and other port fees will be charged.”

  “Thanks, Traveler. We'll be out and away before that. We just need to do some provisioning. Then we'll be departing.”

  “If you look in your message data block, you will find our recommended provisions list. We have subdivided the items into categories from high to low priority. There is also an addendum, which lists food provisions, based on the number of crew and passengers, for the next two months. After you have reviewed and annotated the list, we can arrange for purchase and delivery. Before placing any orders, you will need to establish a ship's account for payment processing. And, for your convenience, I recommend you assign Ranger as the Ships Purser.”

  I dumped a million credits into the ship's account. That should last for several turns.

  3 Humpty Dumpty

  Everything had been delivered, racked, and stacked. By mid-day I had scheduled an early morning departure. Nothing left to do except find a good meal on station, then buy some clothing I wanted for various planetary weather conditions I might encounter. Also, some add-ons for the standard exposure suits we had onboard.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I ended up in a nice restaurant. Each patron booth had a privacy screen and a communication suite. I decided to linger there to see who of my last crew I could contact on the fly. In most cases, it’s considered rude to place a call to someone if you didn't know what their local time was. The few people I had in mind wouldn't care too much. They never kept regular hours anyway. Just as I was about to contact an old shipmate, Ranger's chime sounded on my Q-Com. “Go ahead, Ranger.”

  “Captain, we have received a query from the Transit Board notice you posted offering cargo and passenger service. I have taken the liberty of verifying the credentials and financials of those making the passenger service inquiry, and everything is well in order.”

  “Where do they want to go and how soon?”

  “They list their first destination as the planet Cordonia, which is in the Exeter system. They will pay in advance for all expenses.”

  “Well, Exeter isn't very far. Lots of long-range freighters with passengers make that transit from here. I wonder why they want to spend more than a freighter ticket by employing us.”

  “Sir, they want to make some astrological observations and measurements in the fringes of the Exeter system. An interstellar ship would not delay for them to make their study. One of the passengers is an astro-history professor, and the other is an Oort Cloud specialist. Their survey is being funded by two large universities. They said they will need our ship services for about three months.”

  “OK. Go ahead and book them but get payment and a signed standard contract. Let them know we will be leaving by mid-morning tomorrow. And have them get all their luggage and equipment on board and stowed today. Check on the next freighters going that way that have slots for us to piggy-back, and book a spot for us. Let our clients have acces
s only to the passenger areas. Oh, and get an overnight rush order on food and supplies for a six-month tour for four people. Never hurts to have extra. Anything else, Ranger?”

  “No sir, everything is in prime order and condition.”

  I disconnected from my Q-Com and sat back to decide who to call first. I needed to contact my sister, but wasn't sure of her current location on Fornute, our family's home planet. Instead, I put in a return communication request to her.

  I knew that Sanderson, one of my last crew, was in this system, or had been three weeks ago. Sanderson was known as Sandy, not because it was a shortened version of her last name, but because of her slightly abrasive people skills. She did tone it down after she got to know you for a few years.

  She had been my ship’s engineer for four years and I liked her no-nonsense direct approach. When crap was falling apart, you didn't want someone to hem and haw, thinking about how you might receive bad news. She was also one hell of a mechanic.

  I couldn't remember a time she didn't have scraped knuckles, cuts, bruises, and small burns on both her skin and ship suit. There was always a slight but distinct odor of lubricating oil about her. She loved her engine room. I think she had affectionately given a pet name to all her tools and equipment.

  I put in a call request. In less than a minute, Sandy was onscreen. She looked a bit rumpled, looped, and frayed around the edges but was generally coherent. “Sandy, how are you enjoying retirement, or are you just taking a long and expensive vacation?”

  “Hornblower! It's great to hear from you. I'm just pissing away money here dirt-side at the Oasis resort in the East Seas. I booked one of their entire resort islands and invited all my scroungy acquaintances to party with me. Been here over a month. My guests are getting a bit whiny and ripe. Time to move along I think.”