Orders of Magnitude (The Genie and the Engineer Series Book 2) (21 page)

“If they really are trying to start a war,” she commented,
“then there are going to be a lot more incidents in the Middle East, a lot more
people that are going to die.”

It was Paul’s turn to wince. “I know how brutal and
heartless that sounds. The good news is that we
are
doing something and,
if we are successful, in the long run, we will free the human race from slavery
and exploitation.”

She adopted a very stubborn look. “I’m going to look for
ways to help the Israelis,” she said, adamantly. “Just like the situation in
Rio. I want to save as many lives as possible.”

‘Staging Area’

Open Pit Goldfields Mine

Southwest of Kalgoorlie, Western Australia

September

Friday 4:11 p.m. AWST

“W
hat
do you think?” Paul asked his wife with undisguised curiosity.

Capie grimaced while she strolled through the clutter. Daneel,
now a four year old, floated along behind her, gawking and pointing, naming
everything in sight. Paul eyed the new titanium cage holding the A.I.’s PC
boards and cable harnesses, with the monitor mounted along one side. Still not
very pretty but a substantial improvement nonetheless. For one thing, it no
longer looked as if the connectors were going to disconnect themselves at any
second. Altogether, the new hardware was a temporary solution at best, and he
intended on a more permanent solution later on.

“It’s so…
Mad Max
,” she criticized, comparing the
litter all around her to the 1979 film.

Paul chuckled. “Considering that we are in Australia,
there’s a lot of truth in what you say.”

The three of them were in what Paul euphemistically was
calling the Staging Area for the construction of the spacecraft. To be exact,
this was at the bottom of an open abandoned Goldfields mine pit, seventy feet
below nominal ground level. The mine was in a desolate area where even the
scrub brush was having a difficult time subsisting.

To disguise his activities here from aerial view, Paul had
erected a large set of camouflage nets over their heads on tall poles, fastening
the nets securely to stakes pounded into the cliff-like walls all around them.
Underneath the nets, on the floor of the mine, there were a great many boxes and
containers of all sizes and types scattered around. On one shelf was the
tantalum block with the small emerald sitting next to it.

Capie turned toward several large metal structures stacked
up in the northwest corner of the mine pit.

“And these?”

“Storage compartments, of course, but these don’t have any
quadro-triticale,” Paul answered with a smirk, referring to the
Star Trek
episode “The Trouble With Tribbles.”

That got a faint smile in response from her. “Oh, so this is
where you are storing the metals you mined. The titanium you’ve been talking
about.”

“And the other minerals,” he said, confirming her guess.
“That bin there did hold the one hundred bags of charcoal briquettes which had
the carbon I needed for the rocket engines.” He grinned widely. “I’m glad that
the Australians like to barbeque a lot. Nobody in the store even blinked when I
bought that many bags.”

“And this strange…monstrosity?” Capie pointed towards the
middle of the Staging Area at the object mounted on a rusty iron stand. “These
are the engines that you’ve been bragging about? This whole…thing looks like a
speed racer out of
Star Wars Episode One: The Phantom Menace
.”

Paul laughed, reaching out to give her a quick hug. “Yes,
very much like one of those speed racers.”

The ‘racer’ in front of them consisted of two engines,
mounted on each side of a small platform, on top of which there were two bucket
seats. At the front of the platform was a large transparent shield tilted backwards
from the front of the craft.

“And yes, it has seatbelts too,” he added smugly in pride.

Each engine was nearly spherical, roughly two feet in
diameter and a dull black in color. Out the rear end of each sphere was a
conical nozzle four feet in length and nearly as wide at the mouth. The
nozzles, however, were coated with a shiny white material almost like high
gloss paint.

“The nozzle looks different from what I expected,” she noted
inquisitively.

“That’s because this nozzle is a totally new design, far
superior to any other nozzle in the world today…I hope.”

Capie tilted her head to one side. “I know that ‘look’ of
yours already. What’s wrong?”

No longer smiling, Paul slowly walked around to the open
rear of one of the engines, pointing up into its depth. “The nozzle is a key
component of the ship. In fact, it is the largest element of risk in the ship’s
design. And I’m not totally sure how well my design is going to work. If it
fails in mid-flight, it could leave us stranded in space. I have consulted with
several holographic experts on the subject, and I’m pretty confident about this
design, otherwise I wouldn’t have built them. However, before we take them into
space, I will do a series of full scale tests, just to be sure.”

“Oh,” Capie muttered, as she used a hand to touch the nozzle
lightly. “If it’s that important, why not use a proven design? Something from
NASA.”

“I strongly considered it,” Paul admitted. “But none of their
designs will work for our application. For example, the Space Shuttle Main
Engines only burn for 8.5 minutes per flight and they’re designed for a grand
total of 7.5 hours of operation. However, in our case, we need our engines to
burn for almost 80 hours, just to get to Mars and another 80 to get back.
NASA’s nozzles are designed to work with chemical fuels like LH2 and LOX with
an ISP of 450 seconds. Ours is nuclear with an ISP of 550,000 seconds. The
plume for our engine will be smaller, yes, but much hotter. Our nozzle must be
a lot more robust than any proven design in the world today.”

“I see. Well, I think I see,” she responded, putting hand to
chin in thought. “But that
Broom
thingy you made in order to escape from
Errabêlu
in Mexico. That was just carbon steel…”

Paul folded his arms and looked grimly at the ground. “Very
true. However, the thrust achieved by the
Broom
was low, only a few
hundred pounds force. And it lasted less than two hours. By my calculations, we
will need a minimum thrust of 150,000 pounds force per engine if not more.”

“Okay, that’s a big difference, I agree. So, what is
different about this design?” she asked, leaning forward to touch it again.

“The material is called multi-wall carbon nanotubes, or
MWCNT for short,” Paul explained in a preoccupied fashion. “Much stronger than
any metal and highly resistant to erosion effects, such as in a rocket nozzle.
It’s very difficult for technology to synthesize, but relatively straight
forward for someone with magical powers to make. Also, the bright white coating
you see on the nozzles is a super-conducting ceramic material, commonly called
YBCO. If I can use a spell to keep the superconductor below minus 300 degrees
Fahrenheit, then I can use an electrical current through it to create a
magnetic field. The field will keep the superhot plasma of the engine from
touching the nozzle wall. It’s known as a magnetic nozzle and it’s the best way
to protect the nozzle, even if it involves a lot of magical spells to achieve
that end.”

But then he smiled at his wife. “However, don’t worry. We
won’t go into space with them until they are thoroughly tested at full power.”

“I thought the plan was to take the engines with us to Alice
tomorrow, to get the 737,” she noted with a suspicious look.

“Yes, that is still the plan. That’s actually part of the
testing program for the engines,” Paul confessed. “But only a limited one. As
it is, the stripped 737 only weighs about 35,000 pounds. That’s a little more
than ten percent of rated design capacity of the two engines. Now, in a couple
of months, after we modify the 737 and load it with fuel and supplies, our
spacecraft will weigh more than 200,000 pounds. Lifting
that
into orbit
will be quite the test.” Paul raised an eyebrow at her and decided to change
the subject. “And how was your day?”

She briefly smiled before looking serious again. “As you
know, I’ve finished all the shopping here in town and I’m nearly finished
shopping in Perth. The only things I don’t have yet are some specialty items and
those tools you wanted, and the oxygen, argon, and helium bottles. Some of that
is on order and will be here in a week or so. Everything I’ve bought so far is
stored in Warehouse 13. Oh, and I have changed the locks, just to keep out
anyone who noticed how much we’ve spent and who might have sticky fingers.”

“Good idea, that,” remarked Paul, rubbing his chin in
thought. “We’ve been pretty busy. I tell you what, after our little trip
tomorrow to get the 737, we should take Sunday off and just relax. On Monday I
can start modifying the 737 and you can finish up with your shopping, of
course.”

Capie’s expression communicated rather well her total lack
of enthusiasm.

“Oh. Goody,” she muttered.

Paul nodded, with a sudden deep understanding of the need
for a break. “Yep, a day off. Any ideas on where you would like to go? How
about a day and a night on the town in Perth?”

“That’s better,” Capie said, with a ghost of a smile. “I’m
going to hold you to that.”

Daneel was beaming happily. He pointed and said, “That’s a Racer!
It goes
fast
! Can I race it,
please
?”

• • • •

“I’ve been looking forward to this for several months now,
ever since I dreamed up this idea,” Paul gushed, as he pulled on a tight black
leather jacket and zipped it up.

Capie snapped the chin strap on her crash helmet and then
glanced over at the racer before saying anything.

“And it’s safe, right? It won’t blow up or fall out of the
sky or plow us into a mountainside? Will Daneel be safe riding with us?”

At the mention of his name, the A.I.’s face on the LCD
monitor lit up. “Can I ride up front? Please? Can we go really fast?”

Paul shrugged as he snapped on his gloves. “If the racer
does anything like that, we’ll portal out of the way. Daneel too. And yes,
Daneel, we will go fast.”

“All right!” he squealed. “Fast!”

“Speaking of portals, why don’t we just portal the engines
to Alice instead of using them to take us there? For that matter, why don’t we
portal over to Ayers Rock and use that to portal the 737 here to Kalgoorlie?
That seems a lot safer thing to do than ride on that thing,” she said, nodding
at the racer.

Paul now had his helmet on as well. “You might be right. But
consider this: Maybe there aren’t any wizards or Oni in Canberra. Or there
might be, but they may not be on the lookout for anyone using magical spells
here in the outback. But on the other hand, why risk it? And, this will be a
good first test of the engines. If they won’t move the plane back here, then
the engines certainly aren’t ready to take us to Mars.”

“No, probably not,” she agreed glumly.

Paul gave his wife another close look. “You don’t have to go
if you don’t want to,” he said. “I can do this and be back before noon tomorrow.
And then we will paint the town of Perth red, like I promised.”

But she was shaking her head. “No, no. I don’t get to spend
enough time with you as it is. I’m just jittery, is all. I’m still not all that
comfortable with all the things that magical powers let us do. Like designing
rocket engines with advanced materials.” She glanced at the racer. “It should
be fun, right?”

“Right,” Paul agreed with an encouraging smile. “If you are
ready?”

At her silent nod, he levitated himself into the air directly
over the engine, dropping down into one of the seats on the racer. Capie
followed suit but at a slower pace. Paul moved Daneel to a position between and
slightly behind them, securing the Scottie to a support post.

“Ready, Daddy,” the A.I. said, beaming in happiness and
expectation.

“First thing, we chill the nozzles,” Paul asserted, snapping
his fingers. A blanket of white mist sprang up around the white engine outlets
and the air in the mining pit suddenly turned a bit nippy. “And another spell,
to initiate the flow of current for the magnetic field. Very good. Next, the
inlet portals.”

With a wave of his hand, Paul created two portals, one each
in front of the engines. Each portal would act as an intake to the engines,
allowing air to feed into the pressure chambers. Then, with another wave, Paul
opened the stopcock valve on the small water tanks located behind the seats.
Water began flowing through the small Tygon tubing to both engines. A last spell
levitated the racer up off the stands and two feet up into the air.

“Tallyho!” yelled Paul, initiating the fusion spell inside
the two engines.

A sudden roar assaulted their ears as plasma heated air shot
out the throats of the nozzles. With a sudden hard shove, the racer blasted out
from under the camo nets and up into the open air, rapidly gaining speed and
altitude.

“Yeehaw!” shouted Paul, grinning like a kid with a new toy
on Christmas morning.

“Go faster, Daddy!” screamed Daneel. “Faster!”

Paul glanced at Capie, seeing her scrunched down low, eyes
screwed tightly shut and her hands knuckle white, clamped securely to the sides
of her seat.

Over the roar of the engines, Paul shouted, “It’s okay! You
can look now!”

She briefly flicked one eye open, looking downward at the
ground rolling beneath them at an incredible clip. With a shake of her head,
she squeezed her eye shut again.

Laughing wildly, Paul banked the racer to the left,
accelerating even more, now bound for Alice. Behind him, the sun was not far
from the horizon. Up ahead was the approaching twilight.

“Go lower, Daddy!” screamed Daneel. “Faster!”

• • • •

Midnights on Saturday nights at the Alice Springs Airport were
pretty much like midnights on any other night of the week. Quiet, peaceful, and
with nary a person or thing stirring in the illumination of the security lights
scattered around the facility. On this particular night there was also an
incredibly bright full moon almost directly overhead.

The same state of affairs existed at the nearby aircraft
boneyard, which had precious little movement even during daylight hours.