Expendable - James Alan Gardner [94]
The naked man bloomed into existence in front of me. “All proceeds apace, milady. You and your daughter may soon depart.”
“And you’re sure I’ll have no trouble piloting?”
“Do you but speak your smallest wish, and on the instant, your craft will obey.”
“Good.” I had no objection to voice-controlled flight. My teachers at the Academy claimed there was no technical barrier to creating an automated starship that would outperform human operators on every scale. However, the Admiralty would never allow such a ship to be developed. If you did away with Vac crews, you couldn’t help seeing that the only essential personnel in the Fleet were Explorers.
ECMs. Essential crew members. I liked the sound of that.
Flightworthy
Oar stood against one wall of the hangar, her eyes wide at the sight of so much hustle and bustle. I walked over and said, “Impressive, isn’t it?”
“I do not like machines that move,” she answered. “Especially the small ones. They are like stupid little animals.”
“They aren’t so stupid,” I told her. “They’re making sure we can fly.”
“We will fly inside that bird?”
“Yes.”
“How far can we fly, Festina? Can we fly to your home in the stars?”
“These craft look strictly atmospheric,” I answered, “but you bring up an interesting question.” I motioned to the hologram man. “If I asked you to build a starship, could you do it?”
“Nay, good queen. That is forbidden me. Those who dwell on this planet are rightly granted dominion over their native land and seas; but to step beyond, into the vasty deeps of night, you must make your own way.”
“Pity,” I said, though his answer didn’t surprise me. The League views interstellar space as sacrosanct—closed to undeserving races. If you weren’t advanced enough to reach space on your own, it was only logical that the League wouldn’t help you. Transporting ancient humans to a safe haven on Melaquin was one thing; giving them the means to gad about the galaxy was something else.
“How much longer before the bird can take off?” I asked.
“But a moment’s time,” the hologram replied. “Mayhap you would care to enter now, that your departure can be more swift.”
I gave Oar a look. “Ready to get in the plane?”
“Will we truly fly?” she asked.
“I hope so.”
“Milady,” the hologram said with a chiding tone, “how can you doubt me? My heart beats to the rhythm of the League of Peoples; shall I then place sentients in harm’s way?”
I didn’t answer. An AI of the League would never invite a sentient to board a plane that wasn’t safe…but did that really guarantee anything? The AI was not in perfect repair. Would it even know if the aircraft was flightworthy after four thousand years? Or would the sculpted glass wings fall off before we hit cruising speed?
As if you ever expected to die in bed, I told myself. “Come on,” I said to Oar. “Let’s board.”
Straps
The cockpit had two swivel seats, with enough space between them that passengers wouldn’t block each other’s view through either side of the glass fuselage. To aid in sightseeing, there were no clunky controls to get in the way: no steering yoke, no pedals, no levers or dials or switches. That lack disturbed me; voice operation was one thing, but no manual backup was something else. I had no skill flying aircraft, but if we were crashing, I wanted the chance to wrestle blindly with the controls.
It would give me something to do.
Oar plopped into the right-hand seat; I helped buckle her in before I took the other chair. “These belts are interesting,