<h2>Planet 5 / Ch. 38: Jack Flash in flight</h2>


    </a>Lunar approach


    “Hello, Lunar approach,” the director of the Bubble Research Group said. “This is Bubble Research Ship 5, just reentered normal space at designated transition point three, requesting a direct vector to a clear landing pad.”


    “Err, Bubble-ship 5, are you sure of your location? I don''t have anything on radar there,” came back the reply.


    “Oops, sorry.” the director switched off the forcefield, which had been left on absorption mode. “Do you see me now?”


    “Yes, Bubble-ship 5, I have you now. Can you please state your purpose of visit and how long you''ll need the landing pad for?”


    “This is Bubble Research Ship five, I''ve got meeting room forty-two booked for two hours, but if pad space is really limited I can land anywhere near an airlock and get clear in five minutes. I''d just need to suit up and put the Jack back in its box.”


    “Err, Bubble ship five, I didn''t really understand you.”


    “This is BRS-five, known as Jumping Jack Flash, Lunar approach, I can carry it around in a briefcase if needed.”


    “No need, BRS-5, please land entirely normally at pad thirty, which is the nearest available to meeting room forty two. The pad is reserved for you for up to four hours, after which you''ll need to move or pay penalty charges.”


    “Pad thirty, acknowledged. Please indicate approach vector and maximum acceleration profile.”


    “Direct flight is acceptable, BRS-5. Stay in normal space and keep acceleration between five and five point five metres per second squared until within twenty metres of the ground.”


    “Between five and five and a half, acknowledged,” the Director said, and then turned to the co-pilot. “That''s what Lunar approach are like. No showing off.”


    “I''m sure they have their reasons, sir.”


    “Yes. Their computers still crash if you do anything too unexpected.”


    <hr>


    </a>Landing pad thirty


    “This is it?” one of the band members, ''Jaz'' enthused, “Wow, the Jumping Jack-Flash himself! Living space-folding history!”


    “As you see,” the director said, “there''s probably space for the whole band with instruments, but you''re not going to be moving around much, and there''s no walls you can lean on safely.”


    “Just how dangerous are we talking?” the band''s manager asked.


    “Pressing the wrong button, you mean?” the director asked. “Pick the wrong one while in bubble, say near the sun, and everyone on board would be dead. Pick the wrong one near a populated area, and everyone within a few kilometres could be dead. Pick the wrong one while in bubble close to Earth and the Hawking-radiation would probably blind half the planet. This is an incredibly complex research vehicle, not a tour bus. Which is why I was emphasizing the scientific side of things. I understand the band''s desire, but really...u nless the band can do an a-cappella version of the song....”


    “While sitting on our hands...” Jaz said, “... yeah. I get it.”


    Shena, the vocalist who''d been looking at the controls, said, “We can do that.B ut I thought warp twelve was supposed to be impossible.”


    “Impossible to navigate at, yes.”


    “But...” she indicated one of the newer controls labelled ''Programmed warp sanity limiter'', which went up to twenty five.


    “Errors can be made in software. That particular control was added after I was testing a theory related to ultra-short jumps and time dilation. It takes a while to get back home safely after a short jump at warp thirty one which was supposed to be at warp thirteen. Hence the hardware sanity check.”


    “We''ll sit on our hands,” Jaz repeated.


    “No, we''ll get trained and help do some real science,” Shena replied. “Otherwise Gran will kill me,” she faced the director and said “No one''s been back, have they? To the sun, not since the first trip.”


    “No,” the director acknowledged, “There''s only been one deep-solar observation trip.”


    “Follow-up experiments. Confirmation of unexpected results, right Shaun? For Gran''s birthday if we can.”


    “OK, Sheena.” Shaun agreed, “Yeah, being here, yeah, we''ve just got to really.”


    Sheena added, “But Doctor, please don''t think about this meeting when you see us later in the friends meeting. We don''t want to spoil the surprise.”


    “I wasn''t aware I would see you at another meeting. You are referring to Planet Five?”


    “Shaun and me are descendents on both sides. Jaz and Humph just on one. Boys, do you get it? This is the Sun-Drive ship. /Dials all around me, screaming past space/.”


    “Yeah, Sheena, we get it.” Jaz said, “Lab in a box, I''m still seeing your face. But we''ll need to cover the original song too. You can''t ask to sing on the ''Jack Flash'' without singing it''s theme song.”


    Sheena relaxed at Jaz''s implicit agreement, “Humph, is it all right now?”


    “Hey, science is cool, Sheena. Like I''ve told you loads of times, I''m an marine biologist, not an astronomer. But you can fly me on a bus to Planet Five any day. The oceans there just need better study. For our video we do our song, and for the BRG''s video we''ll cover ''Jack Flash'', and yes, we take your proper measurements, Sheena, as long as someone can teach us to do them right.”


    “I''ve got a suggestion.” The manager said, “Why not three or four videos even? A feature-length travelogue or even a fly-on-the wall series thing, fans love those, then a science-promotion cum-recruiting video, theme song, and a new song, two about... I don''t know, dreams come true? Something inspired by the trip? More songs the better, of course.”


    “Manager man, we love you,” Jaz said, “You can always bring us back to reality. Gotta pay those bills, eh? Doctor, our lovely manager man says we need to come inside a budget of fifty thousand transfer credits per song, or we''re really losing money, and a lot of that goes on studio time, filming, editing, and so on. We''ll need to talk to unions about there not being space here for a film crew. We can put six weeks into it.”


    “A month,” the manager corrected. “And when everything else is accounted for including importing food to Mars, we''re talking location fees or transport costs or whatever else you want to call them of no more than a ten thousand credits”


    The director ignored the manager and addressed the band. “If you could dedicate seven weeks to it, and be trusted with secrets of the deep, that would put you through the basic training course.


    "In which case you''d be qualified to join in any trip, including the one you''re interested in, and maybe even study Planet Five on a postgraduate research post if we decide to reopen it. If the filming we''ve discussed is acceptable to you and the scientific merit is there in the research with joint credit on any papers resulting, etc. I think we can do the trip for a nominal fee like fifty credits. If it was just a joy-ride for qualified crew, not involved in research but not actively getting in the way, the cost would be more like a thousand, given the fact that Jack is so unique, there are very few qualified pilots, and so on. To take members of the public... the risks are much greater, the science return non-existent. The sum the accounts department put on it was fifteen thousand.”


    “You have the authority to overrule,” the manager said.


    “Of course, but I see four candidates for basic training in front of me, interested in doing science, so I think that finances come second.”


    “I will not read this old Mer writing in the presence of the manager to prove I can,” Sheena said in Mer, looking at the screen in front of her. “But while our public profiles do not say it, Shaun and I are of the deeps and the shallows, and Humphry Hathella Ben''s name speaks for itself. None of us are shark or shark-food. We will discuss your offer, Doctor, and then I anticipate we will accept.”


    There was an agreement from the young men.


    “May your knife ever be sharp,” the director said in the same language.


    <hr>


    </a>Conference room forty-two


    “I do not speak any language of Planet Five,” the director said, “But I wonder if Mer, English or Russian would be better for this meeting?”


    “Stick to English, please,” said a woman in a dress that had a distinctively Russian look. “Some of us here do not like to hear the way our friends mangle the pronunciation of their native tongue, and my Mer is rusty. You agreed to this meeting, director, that gives us hope. Can you tell us how much hope you can give us?”


    “What I can say is the following: at the moment, we have no plans to change the no-visiting status of Planet five. But, our records show that something like ninety years ago there seemed to have been significant progress on the planet. Were any of you aware of that report?”


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    There was a chorus of ''no''s. “I don''t know exact parameters, but at that time the observation probe reported to a ship that passed, that there were some emission signatures consistent with spark-gap transmitters both from Dahel and from Tesk, and also signs of regular shipping routes all along the Southern coast. There are also buildings stretching from the Isles to Dahel that mainly get used on Sundays.”


    “And what of Kanuga?” the Russian woman asked.


    “Kanuga at that time continued to exhibit signs consistent with gold-mining, power generation, and radio and telephone systems well beyond anything else on the planet. I''ve brought the A.I''s report and some of the recordings with me.”


    “The recordings will be fascinating for those of us who know Kanugan, and frustrating for those who don''t.”


    “Indeed,” the director said, “As you may or may not know, my predecessor decided that keeping in contact with under-developed planets that were being left to develop on their own was unfruitful. I''m not at all convinced, but still, it takes a pilot in roughly the right area to drop in and collect information from a monitoring satellite. Before my predecessor, it would happen every decade or two. Planet five, however was not classified as under-developed, but as quarantined. I presume the ''under-developed'' label was developed some time after the Planet-Five team had left. In the current rule book, which was introduced about seventy-five years ago as far as I can discover, ''quarantined'', has meant that entering the atmosphere is a very very stupid thing to do, liable to get you killed. And that is why no one has visited Planet Five since. So the other news, possibly hope that I can bring is that I''ve set our staff the task of checking all early-era planets to ensure that they''re categorised properly.


    "Planet five is now classed as under-developed. It depends on a pilot being near, of course, and not having any deadline that they''re trying to beat, but an under-developed planet with no recent update on file will be flagged as being a place of interest. The existence of this group, which is unique as far as I''m aware, makes it even more interesting.”


    “So when do you anticipate a pilot going that way?” the Russian woman asked.


    “I would anticipate within the next three or four years. I''m sorry I cannot be more precise.”


    “And our request to fly a special trip there?” an elderly woman asked.


    “Would depend on a qualified pilot being available, maam, and it''s a long way.”


    “Not as far as Ground,” she pointed out.


    “True. But we just don''t have the full-time pilots, and pilots normally retire because they have families they don''t want to leave.”


    “I know that, young man. And you don''t re-recruit older pilots.”


    “Actually, maam, now we do. As long as the pilot is still qualified to fly a Boris-drive ship in atmosphere, we are happy to take them back on.”


    “Your predecessor wasn''t. I asked and she said some rubbish about reaction times being important in bubble drive.”


    “My predecessor, you might have gathered, was never a pilot, let alone a Doc B.T. I take it I have the honour of addressing Doctor Rhianna Sun-driver?”


    “Oh, my name''s not totally forgotten then?”


    “Jack Flash is parked at pad thirty, Doctor.”


    Rhianna sighed, “How long have you been director, young man?”


    “Two years, Doctor,” the director replied. “I retired from piloting and spent two decades lecturing on forcefields after gaining my Doc B.T., so I keep discovering how things have changed. On behalf of the group I apologise for my predecessors insulting attitude.”


    “If only..... Can I at least come and have a look?”


    “Certainly Doctor. You may take the controls as long as you are neither shark nor shark-food, and try not to upset Lunar Control.”


    “Are you saying that you''d trust me with Jack to go and visit Planet five?”


    “Urm, probably not, Doctor. But if you can find a co-pilot, and check the maths carefully, then you may borrow any second generation ship you like. I''m sorry I have to limit it to second generation, but the third and fourth generation ships are all busy, and the first generation ships are getting regular use now earning some in-system tourist money.”


    “Why are you doing that?” the Russian woman asked.


    “Because the fixed amount negotiated by a predecessor for the Research Group''s share of interstellar trade does not cover our operational costs any more. We had to decide between charging more for research or medical flights, further reducing secretarial, cleaning and catering staff — which would hurt the research — or charging some tourists lots of money.”


    “Ah.” she replied, gaining a look of determination. “You obviously need influential friends, Mr Director.”


    “I suppose I must, maam. I''m afraid I don''t know your name.”


    “That is just as it should be, for security reasons, you understand. You may address me as ''your grace''.”


    “Thank you, your grace.”


    “So, Mr Director, you have old ships available, but your pilots are all busy?” the Russian duchess asked.


    “Yes, your grace.”


    “And you are recruiting, I presume?” She looked pointedly at the six youngest members of the group.


    “We have a constant need of new pilots, your grace, and new research staff. Automatic survey probes can detect life on a planet, but they are still very unreliable at distinguishing the differences between bioluminescence and street-lighting or sheep-herding and predators. And of course, as you know, once it is determined that contact is warranted, that''s a massive investment of resources and people. We have first-contact groups on three planets at the moment, there is another planet where a more extensive pre-contact observation is probably warranted, and of course when we make good friends like those on Ground there is a moral imperative to stay in contact.”


    “We feel that same imperative regarding Planet Five as well,” the countess said. “It is nice to hear your words, and I hope that your course has space for more would-be pilots.”


    “With prior approval from Atlantis,” a man added, in Mer. The director realised he didn''t recognised him from his briefing notes either. Switching language to English the man added. “You may also assume that there will be local voices speaking in favour of the revocation of the stupid deal your predecessor begged for regarding trade income when you request that from the treaty parties. Especially if you send us a note as you make that request. Children, you have something you''re trying to keep secret.”


    “It is meant to be a surprise for grandma,” Shena said.


    “Surprise her now instead,” the man replied.


    “We — the band — hope to join the basic training course and record some recruitment videos, and play our signature song in an appropriate place.”


    Shena said. “We think it will be an excellent video, popular with fans, and get people interested. And if we''re going there, we ought to take some measurements too, shouldn''t we?”


    Rhianna shook her head in amazement, “Shena, you are why the director brought Jack here?”


    “Yes, Gran,” Shena said, unrepentantly.


    “Not entirely, doctor,” the director corrected. “I''m serious about you having a fly. Maggie Sarah John was older than you when she got Jack out of his box.”


    “Nevertheless, Shena, thank you.” Rhianna said. “But I want to remind the director here that Maggie Sarah John told my grandmother that visiting the sun was too risky.”


    “You convinced enough people otherwise.”


    “Hmph. Whoever flies it had better be able to tweak that manifold control in their sleep, that''s all I want to say. No frying my grandchildren or plunging them into a black-hole, they''re good kids. I spent fifty hours simulator time getting ready, and decided I should have had more practice in the first five seconds of the real thing.”


    <hr>


    </a>Bubble Research Ship 5


    “Oh lookee, new controls.” Rhianna said, looking around the ship. “I said in my day that Jack needs a friend to share the features researchers want to add.”


    She read some of the newer controls, “Really? Someone fitted Jack up with a bubble extractor?”


    “Yes.”


    “Nice!”


    “Using it''s complicated.”


    “You really don''t surprise me. You know, you should probably offer a Masters in Bubble Tech to anyone who learns to fly this ship properly.”


    “That''s an interesting idea, I''ll look into it,” the director said.


    “You really want me to fly?”


    “Any reason you shouldn''t doctor? I know I love getting back into the driving seat.”


    Rhianna sat in the pilot''s seat, ran her hands over the control columns, and grinned as the console woke up and greeted her by name. “Buckle up, kids.G randma''s driving. Oooh, do I see a fourth-gen style load calculator?”


    “You do,” the director agreed.


    “That''s very handy.” Rhianna said, then flipped on the radio “Lunar control, this is BRS-5. It''s been about thirty years since I last flew from here, does your computer still have a mode called “Ignore JJF?”


    “Urm, I was taught to ignore that option, maam.”


    “Put your trainer on report, and select it for this ship''s transponder signal please. Think of it a systems test.”


    “I''m not authorised to do that, maam.”


    “Look, young man, I spent three years of my life campaigning for that option to get onto your system. It is critical for the proper use of your airspace when there are bubble ships around, especially when they''re being flown by determined grandmothers standing up for their rights. Engage that mode for this transponder, now I will test it is functioning properly in ten seconds. I will not move this ship or in any way endanger other traffic as I do so, but your system may reboot if it is not engaged. Five, four, three, two, one. Please report that your system is still functioning.”


    “My system has now flagged your ship as missing.”


    “That''s just the forcefield. Someone decided that an energy-absorber would be good to recharge the power banks, just in case. We''re still here. For future reference, enable that mode on all bubble ships and your system will behave much better. Now, we''ll call back in a bit, don''t worry. We''re not leaving the pad.”


    “Gran, you''re grinning like a mad teenager.” Shena said.


    “I''m just going to get Jack to do a little gentle exercise, dear, nothing to get stressed about, now, set bubble density, set direction, set warp to minus twenty, set distance, where''s that option.... ah, set manifold limits, there it is, enable spikes. Hold onto your stomachs, we''re going into bubble... now.


    The world outside went almost black.


    “This is bubble space, kids. We''re still on the moon, the glowing spikes you can see are our range finder lasers, and forcefield bubble that''ll stop us killing anyone. We''re seeing the outside world through a pinhole the size of a hundred atoms, which is why it''s so dark. If you want to go into the sun, you''ll need to turn it down lower, but you also want to know which way is up, which is where it gets tricky, because if you''re really going through the sun''s atmosphere then you''re going through an optically thick gas. That''s why it''s so dangerous. Up, down, left right, you''re in six thousand degree glowing soup, and that''s why cheating is so important.


    “Cheating?” Shena asked.


    “Yes. You sing about it girl. Shining out a million miles and holding on tight.”


    “You put a beacon on Mercury.”


    “I put a humongous forcefield spike roughly at Mercury''s second Lagrange point, and I lost contact with it every time I closed the manifold too much. Like I said, it was a delicate balancing act. Then I married your grandfather, got pregnant a bit earlier than we''d be planing for, and decided I wouldn''t risk another life. Do not go as deep as I did, kids. It''s really not worth the risk.”


    “But your anomalous readings!” Shena protested.


    “Were anomalous. They might have been equipment issues from the heat, it was getting hot in there, or more likely to my mind, some kind of wake effect from the forcefield. Now, notice that we''ve been in bubble space for a while, and we''re at ground level. Even if it is the moon, it''s rude to pop into real space right in front of someone''s nose. Therefore, we use the range finder as a lidar. Ha! I thought so! Curious people can''t stand the idea of a ship vanishing. But they''re far enough away that we won''t turn them inside out.”


    The moon popped back into visible.


    “BRS 5, where have you gone, over, Lunar control asked.


    “Sorry, lunar control, we''ve not moved, we were just undetectable for a while.”


    “You haven''t actually flown the Jack anywhere, gran.”


    “I''ve done the fun bit, kids. Thank you, director.”


    “It was a most informative trip, doctor. Thank you. Any time you felt willig to pass on old  stories to new faces, yout''d be most welcome. Either infomally over cups of tea or a lecture or three. They''ve heard my stories, but...”