Saucer: The Conquest

Yeah, so, he wasn't here! He was only twenty-three, for Christ's sake. He didn't earn a seat in a spaceplane's cockpit; she did! All those years in college, flying, test pilot school— yet she wouldn't be here if it weren't for Rip.

Well, she would tell him about it when she returned to earth. That was the best that she could do. She brushed Rip away and returned to the business at hand, controllers and trajectories and systems.

Charley Pine took physical control of Jeanne d'Arc for the first time over the Pacific Ocean to effect the rendezvous with the orbiting fuel cell. With the sound of her breathing rasping in her ears and her heart thudding in her chest, she made tiny control inputs as the spaceplane crossed the distance between the two orbiting bodies. She knew from her military flying experience and the simulator that it was necessary to check the closure rate on the instruments — not to rely on her eyes — since the rate would appear to increase as the bodies closed the distance.

With Lalouette monitoring the instruments and calling out the distance and closure rate, she flew the spaceplane into the rendezvous position and stopped all closure. Only after all relative motion had stopped did she nudge the controls enough to gently bring the spaceplane into the fueling port. The clunk of the hydraulic latches closing, locking the ship firmly to the tank, was the best sound she had heard in years. She breathed a huge sigh of relief.

'Nicely done,' said a male voice, not Lalouette.

She looked around. Pierre Artois was watching. He was suspended in the cabin, floating, maintaining his position by occasionally touching something fixed to the ship. Even though this was his first journey into space, he looked quite comfortable.

'Thank you.'

'If I may ask, mademoiselle, why did you accept my offer to join our expedition?'

Charley glanced at Lalouette, a working pilot who had beaten out hundreds of other applicants for one of the four first-pilot positions, and saw him glance curiously at her.

'I was looking for a flying job,' Charley replied, 'and you made an offer.' She shrugged. Gallicly, she hoped.

Artois wasn't satisfied. 'I have heard that you are a part owner of the patents on the flying saucer propulsion technology that was recently licensed by Monsieur Cantrell. If true, you must be a very wealthy woman.'

Lalouette's eyes widened when he heard that remark. To the best of Charley's knowledge, her ownership of a portion of the proceeds from the saucer propulsion licensing deals had not been publicly reported. Apparently Artois had done his homework before he hired her.

'That comment is going to do wonderful things for my social life,' Charley shot back. 'Listen, Mr. Artois. I'm a professional aviator. Flying is what I do. I'll fly anything you people own, including spaceships, as long as the paychecks cash. Bounce one and I'm outta here.'

'Sounds fair enough,' Artois said dryly, and shoved off.

Charley Pine shrugged at Lalouette, one of those what-can-you-do? shrugs that are popular in New York, and together the two of them began the process of readying Jeanne a' Arc to receive fuel as the coast of California slid under them.

It was after midnight in Missouri when Egg Cantrell went looking for Rip. The assorted scientists were fast asleep in every bed in the house, on the couches and on cots in a large tent a rental firm had erected on the lawn.

In the hangar, Egg called Rip's name, got a muffled answer and followed the sound. He found two feet sticking out from under his old pickup, the 1957 Dodge.

'What are you doing under there?'

'I'm about finished. Two more minutes.'

Egg's hangar was built during World War II for the Army Air Corps; it and the nearby air traffic control tower where. Rip was sleeping these days were the only structures still remaining from the military past. Egg had jackhammered the concrete runways years ago and reseeded them in grass. Today the hangar contained an Aeronca Champ airplane, several old farm tractors, an Indian Chief motorcycle, a Model A Ford and an assortment of antique furniture and farm machinery he had acquired at estate sales, plus numerous items he just found interesting, such as an old printing press and Linotype he purchased when the county newspaper went digital.

This old Dodge wasn't his everyday pickup, of course. He had paid two hundred dollars for it way back when, and amazingly, it still ran.

Rip crawled out from under the engine compartment, wiped his hands on a rag and said, 'Okay. I'm ready to try it.'

'Try what?'

There was a piece of plywood in the bed of the truck. Rip picked up a corner and let Egg see the automobile batteries underneath arranged in rows. He put the plywood back in place, flashed a grin at his uncle and got into the pickup. The engine started right up.

'The problem is power,' he explained to his uncle as he revved the engine. His eyes gleamed. Egg hadn't seen him this excited since Charley left, forty-four days ago. Egg had been counting. 'The engine in the pickup doesn't make enough of it,' Rip continued. 'I use the generator to charge the batteries, then use the batteries to power the system.'

'What system?'

'Stand back a little and I'll show you.'

Egg took several hesitant steps backward, and as he did the pickup lifted off the dirt floor of the hangar and rose several feet in the air, where it stopped. The nose was at least a foot higher than the rear corner of the truck, which was barely clear of the ground.

'Antigravity,' Rip said, laughing. 'I built a small system like the one in the saucer. What do you think?'

'Seems as if you have a bit more work to do.'

'I haven't got the lift lines in the right places. Turns out it's a bit more difficult than I figured, but that's the way it goes. Life is tougher than it looks, isn't it? I'll iron out the glitches.' He turned off the engine of the pickup, which had no effect on the vehicle's position in the air. 'Stand back and watch me move this thing around.'

Egg took several more steps backward, bumped into a tractor, and decided to take cover behind it. As he did so the truck silently moved aft toward the center of the hangar, still suspended at an odd angle above the dirt floor.

Rip tried to make the truck turn — and succeeded in slewing the nose around dangerously, almost hitting Egg's Aeronca. He got it stopped just in time. Dust from the hangar floor swirled around.

'Sorry, Unc. I'll take this thingamabob outside.' With that, the truck crept forward out of the hangar. It slowly accelerated until it was moving at about the speed a man could trot. It crossed the runway, heading for the trees on the other side.

Egg could hear Rip cussing. He was saying some rather nasty words in a loud, clear voice when the truck smacked into a large tree on the far side of the runway.

There it sat intimately embracing the tree, the nose several feet in the air, the rear still sagging dangerously. Rip climbed out of the cab and jumped to the ground. He was standing with his hands on his hips staring at the damaged grill and bumper when Egg reached him.

'Another technical problem rears its ugly head,' Egg murmured.

Rip shook his head in frustration.

Then the batteries powering the antigravity device began losing their charge. The truck eased toward the ground inch by inch until it was once again sitting on all four wheels.

'Darn,' Rip said mournfully.

Egg couldn't help himself. He exploded in laughter.

When he finally calmed down, he asked, 'Why, pray tell, are you putting antigravity rings on that old truck?'

'Actually I'm trying to figure out how to put them on the

Extra. Then I'd have a fast, maneuverable airplane that could land anywhere. We could make airports obsolete. Thought I'd start with the pickup to see what the problems were.'

'Hmm.'

'Yeah, I know. If I'd done this two months ago maybe Charley would still be here.' He raised his hands and