Ranson sat at the controls of the Cordie as he called it. He watched the screens, the graphics showing the boat was ready to take to the air. He had spent the time since his meeting with Herd grabbing a travel bag from his tug, and learning the controls.
River and Hall had pronounced the engines and everything they could go over as fit to fly. They were down in the engine bay to keep an eye on things in case there was a hiccup on liftoff.
Marner and Herd were in seats going over their plans for the drone on Titan. Liftoff wouldn't be much of an issue for them. And Herd had asked for his robot's limits for the the excavation.
The trip would be wasted if it couldn't punch through the ice to get at the shape they had found on their search.
Anderson had decided to ride in the co-pilot's seat as Ranson prepared to take off from the Martian dock. His eyes watched his own screens as the Cordie came to life around them.
Ranson turned on the intercom. He wanted to make sure everything was strapped down before they lifted. Moving equipment was still a threat in the low gravity of Mars. Once they were underway, he could apply the ship's own gravity to keep everything in place.
“This is the captain speaking,” said Ranson. “We're about to lift. Everything good to go down there?”
“Engineering is good, Cap,” said Hall. “The engines are in the green from where we sit.”
“Cory and I are ready, Captain Ranson,” said Herd.
“Anderson?,” asked Ranson, looking at his second.
“Ready,” said Anderson, face blank but eyes checking the readouts on his screens.
“Olympus Control,” said Ranson. He cut the intercom. “This U of M ship Cordinger. Do we have clearance for lift?”
“Cordinger, this is U C,” said an operator. “We have a vector to orbit along point sixteen twenty.”
“Affirmative,” said Ranson. He typed in the numbers on his screen. “Lifting.”
The Cordinger shook like a dog getting ready to run. Ranson looked around as a groan sounded in the cockpit. He slowly fed power to the engines, watching the positioning icon. Once he was in the orbital slot given him, he typed in the course for Titan and opened the throttle up.
The ship sang as she flew through space. Ranson kept an eye on things, but everything said he would come apart before the ship did. He didn't believe that for a minute. He had flown ships that said one thing, only to have the opposite to happen.
It would take a few more trips before he was ready to declare the Cordie his best ship ever.
She was doing better than he thought from the way she had looked on the first day he had looked at her.
Anderson said nothing. He seemed content with watching the screens for any problems.
Ranson leaned back in his chair. The Cordie would do the rest of the work of carrying them to Titan without his input. He would have to take back manual control when they made their first landing on the ice.
Ranson wondered how long Anderson had been flying from the way he looked at everything. He seemed to have never touched a live control. He didn't want to pry into the man's background.
There were plenty of people who had made their homes in space because they were running from their pasts.
Jupiter loomed on the screen after a few hours of sailing time. Ranson called the navigation file up to check on Titan. He plotted out a course to intercept and establish an orbit. Once they were in orbit, he could use the file to find the spot where they had spotted the shadow.
Once they were in position, he would have to land to allow the crew to look things over, or let them do a survey from orbit. Either was fine with him. Once he knew what Herd wanted, doing the rest should be a snap with the Cordie.
Ranson had done some manual flying in his youth. The augmented controls used now were a snap compared to that.
He hoped the doctor found what she was looking for under the ice. Future jobs could pour in for him if this one was a big success. He could use fame to build up a transport line to compete with the big business that now ran most of everything in the system.
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Captain Ranson, Adventuring Pilot sounded hokey in his mind when he tried it out.
He went over the course once the Cordie started moving. The screen gave him relative positioning as he watched the closing distance to target numbers. Once he was close enough, he would trigger the orbit numbers. After that, he could wait until Herd gave him something specific to cover.
He figured it would take an hour for the Cordie to close into position as the moon rushed to meet it. Then maybe another ten minutes while he matched with the body, maybe another ten after that to get started on the orbit to keep them circling the other space object without burning up fuel.
He didn't know how long it would take him to get back to the coordinates and look for the shadow. It might not be visible. He wondered if the expedition had packed enough to be on the ice for a while.
He imagined if there was a need for supplies, he would have to head to the Belt, or back to Mars. Getting fuel would have to be part of such a run so they could pull out and leave at any time.
He put plotting exit courses on his list of things to do while the group was getting their feet under them.
Ranson had plots in hand by the time the navigation computer alerted him that he needed to program the next set of courses. He punched in the numbers and hit the execute button. The Cordie gently shifted on a course that would keep it moving around Titan without having to do anything but gentle course corrections if they fell too low, or high.
He pored over the charts. Now that they were floating above Titan and roughly keeping in the same spot as the moon turned, he had to plot another orbit to take them to the spot in the ice. Once he had done that, he just had to program an orbit to keep the Cordie over that spot until they were done.
He also had to be on the lookout for a safe place to land if they needed to do that. He thought the ship could float well enough, but he didn't want to send it through the ice and find out firsthand.
“This is the course from here to the dig,” said Anderson.
Ranson jumped. He had forgotten Anderson sitting in the other seat. He chided himself for that. He should have been asking for copying as he placed the orders in for the Cordie to carry out.
“Let me take a second to check, Mr. Anderson,” said Ranson. He pulled the course lines up on his screen.
Ranson went over the course silently. The calculations looked machine precise to his naked eyes. He nodded. He couldn't have done better navigation himself.
“This is well done,” said Ranson. He sent the course to the helm. He listened as the engine shifted to carry the Cordie to their destination. “How long have you been a pilot?”
“I'm not,” said Anderson. He watched his screens, echoing Ranson's own feed.
“You don't fly?,” asked Ranson. He leaned back in his chair. A precise course from a grounder was not something you saw every day.
“I know something about astrogation, and astronomy,” said Anderson. He shrugged in his passive mask. “The only piloting skill I have is what I have picked up traveling with Doctor Herd.”
“This is almost a perfect course,” said Ranson. “If you go for a license, you won't fail the navigation part of the registration if you can do this as smoothly then.”
Anderson nodded. His face didn't show anything of his feelings.
“We should be over the target area in a few minutes,” said Ranson. He highlighted the globe moving below them. “We'll park the Cordie until we have the next step ready to go.”
“The doctor will want to deploy the drone first,” said Anderson. “Then once we have a safe spot to land, she'll want to unload the equipment in the ship's bays. Using the Cordie for a home base is in keeping with her general methods.”
“It should be a breeze to push the robot out before we set down,” said Ranson.
“Marner will need to suit up so he can pilot it,” said Anderson. He shifted part of the view on his screen to a view of the bay doors. “We'll have to let him know when we're on station.”
“That'll be fine,” said Ranson. “We'll make sure to line up so we can push the thing out of the bay with the minimum of effort, and let it land without hurting itself. It shouldn't be much of a problem, unless we have a wind problem.”
Anderson nodded. Ranson didn't know if it was because of the reassurance, or that he knew that a high wind would make any maneuvering dangerous, and had the proper respect for it.
The pilot had seen a few pilots think their craft could stand up to the extraterrestrial weather on the inner and outer planets. It always led to a disaster with their ships crashing into the ground. He didn't plan to do the Cordie the same way while he was at the helm.
The ship sailed over the spot in the ice. Ranson typed in the commands to keep it on station until they were ready to commence the rest of the operation. Herd would have to think about the landing spot she wanted while he picked out likely spots that he could actually set down on without going through the ice and into the ocean underneath.
He didn't want to wind up like the Argo with half the excuse.
He turned the intercom on so he could speak to the rest of the crew.
“We're above the energy signature,” said Ranson. He checked the scanners with a glance. “It's going to take a lot of digging to get through the ice to start diving.”
“How long can you hold us on position?,” asked Herd.
“Indefinitely,” said Ranson. “Titan is doing the work for us until we have to change position.”
“All right,” said Herd. “We're going to get the drone ready. I'll let you know when we're ready to drop it.”
“No problem,” said Ranson. He cut the intercom. “We're going to need a suitable landing spot. I think we should start looking for one so when the word comes down we can land without worrying about what we're going to do.”
Anderson nodded. He typed on one of the screens to call up a view of the ground where they would be working. He marked out several spots with his finger after careful consideration.
Ranson picked out three, each with a thick ice floor to hold the Cordie after they landed, and the potential for ice walls to help protect the crew from the environment. He didn't want to lose someone to a high wind, or some other weird natural weather.