The neighboring town of Florianopolis, according to Chelan’s reading, had originally been settled by Brazilian emigres fleeing aspects of the Interregnum. The town flanked the college on two sides, but, just as he had read, the college and its gardens occupied the land in a quadrant extending a considerable distance farther out. He readily spotted an extended business district close to the school, obvious apartment houses, and a mixture of churches, cathedrals, and temples.  Someplace in there had to be the municipal government structures, but he couldn’t immediately spot them.

“Sir,” Pamela said, “Centurion Conti reports that you’ve done enough sightseeing, because the local constabulary, the county sheriffs, and police forces from several neighboring towns are present, so you can safely land and meet the press.”

Chelan’s aircar descended into the center of a ring formed by bodyguards and members of the constabulary.  An exit ramp went down.  He stopped at the top of the stairs, waved, and waited while the press assembled around the stairs.

“I can hear your questions on my ear mike,” he answered.  “I understood that there were members of the faculty and staff who were disenthused about change and preferred to resign.  Naturally, I wish them well in their future endeavors.  I did not expect the occupation of Chancellor’s Hall.  Occupation of College academic and administrative buildings is something out of the worst days just before the Interregnum started.  That behavior should be sent back four hundred years to where it belongs.

“As Chancellor, I have absolute authority to discipline or expell students.  They may leave rather than accepting the punishment I offer.  I anticipate being forgiving to students who were misled, see the error of their ways, and are departing the building, as I now see some number of them doing. With respect to staff, I will be reviewing the departed. Some of them may be invited to return, but under Union law that letter of resignation is legally binding and something I will enforce.

“Some of you,” Chelan continued, “may not caught the last question, asking about the lawsuit of the space shipping cartel against Bulger Spaceways.”  You did not catch it, he thought, because I asked it myself, sotto voce. “I am advised that the cartel has exercised its privilege of enforcing a contract that has long been in place. It is their right to do that.  Bulger will not be contesting the suit, assuming that the final settlement terms are as reasonable as the proposal.

“In answer to a separate question, Bulger Spaceways will remain entitled to import rare earths for its own use, for the use of the Space Guard, and for export to Elizavetsia.  I anticipate that those uses will consume what we are importing, so we will not have a surplus leading to a further conflict with the cartel.

“Will do, nice and slow,” Cornelius answered, “and you two keep your eyes open for bodies, not that I’ve spotted any, but I’m going to be busy flying.”

Multiple passes over the disaster site produced the needed photographs.

“Could everyone have survived,” Charles asked, “and they all just walked off?  Follow the rails, well, the roadbed, until they reached Phoenix?”

“That many people, there would’ve been tracks,” Andrew responded.  “I know what a group of men marching through sand leaves behind. There were no signs. Besides, someone would’ve stayed here, out of stubbornness, or to tell a rescue party which way they went.”

Much of an hour later they reached Prescott.  They’d seen two more train wrecks, one leaving behind a huge crater where what appeared to  have been a load of dynamite had exploded.  They’d flown over a sea of broken glass, all strange colors, sunlight flashing from the ground wherever it caught a facet at the right angle.  The tiny towns along the rail line were equally missing, only foundations remaining.  They’d overflown a working locomotive, parked just short of the zone of devastation.

“The would-be airline talked the Prescott city fathers – that means in particular Miss Sparkes – into grading and gravelling a field near town,” Cornelius announced.  “I’ll overfly the town low a couple of times so they know I’m landing.  Governor was trying to tell them I’m coming, but phone and telegraph lines are all down.  And there’s the field.  It might even not be bumpy.”

The Oriole touched down, bounced twice, and taxied toward a waiting group of soberly dressed citizens.  A sheriff’s deputy kept the spectators safely back from the airplane.

“Gentlemen,” Cornelius announced, “I am going to put the tent over the cockpit, look for some shade, hopefully some iced tea, and await your return.”

“Be happy to join you, so soon as I get a few photos of the awaiting multitudes.”  Andrew pointed at the people now waving.

“I have to find a working phone line out,” Charles said. “There must be some. Governor gave me a letter asking people to help me, though I’m sure…he didn’t expect what happened.”

A long hour later, they were back in the air.

“How’d it go, Major?” Cornelius asked.  “I’m happy to follow the border of that yellow stuff, but not to fly over it again.  Sheriff wanted to rent use of my plane, then told me what his deputy saw on the ground.  Dead people?  Melted rails?  I told him about the melted trains, then played my ace.” 

“Your ace?” Andrew asked.

“I’ve got  a contract already,” Cornelius said emphatically.  “The Governor, for all day. And company says I don’t risk damaging the plane.”

“Wisely said.  He was polite?” Andrew considered that a Smith and Wesson beat five aces, but that was more what you saw in the Old South.

“Absolutely.” Cornelius smiled to himself.  “After all, his deputy is the Associate Sheriff, complete with Boston accent and a Harvard degree.  Harvard is that school in Massachusetts. Or maybe it’s New Hampshire. I never remember.”

“Group Leader Conti,” Pamela said, “ reports that there are groups of faculty members who want to meet with you, the student government group that wrote the report on academic standards would be delighted to speak to you whenever you want, there are several groups of administrators who wish to deliver their non-negotiable demands, and it goes on from there.”

“Pamela,” Chelan said, “you’re doing a magnificent job of listening to me and listening to Conti at the same time, which is perhaps asking too much. Please ask Conti it can find the half-dozen faculty members who wrote that peculiar report saying there was an issue here, and find the short list — I think there were four of them — of students who wrote the final draft of the student government report. Is the press there yet?”

“Apparently whoever organized this sent them notices while we were en route. Their local stringers reported that interesting things might happen, so there are at least four camera crews and a bunch of the classical press in attendence.”

“Oh, goody. That’s absolutely wonderful.” Chelan’s tone revealed a manifest lack of enthusiasm. “Okay, I get to make a statement.”  He paused for a moment.  “When I left home this morning, I anticipated a peacable arrival and taking of office.  I see that matters have changed.  I will be meeting with leading members of the Faculty and leading members of the student body about the current situation. I order former employees to go to their offices, pack up their belongings, and leave campus. I realize that some of those people will require significant freight support. Those persons may remain on-campus in their offices so long as they remain peaceable and do not disrupt the operations of the college.  I order the students who have joined in the disruption, in particular the occupation of Chancellor’s Hall, to leave the building immediately and return to their residences, or otherwise go about their academic business.  Students who have participated in the disruption will be subject to academic discipline, but the penalties for that participation will be greatly increased for students who do not promptly leave Chancellor’s Hall and elsewise allow the normal operation of the campus to resume. I call upon my friends in the faculty and student body to leave the area around Chancellor’s Hall so that the people inside may leave without feeling threatened.”

“Sir,” Pamela said, “Group Leader Conti asks that you postpone landing for a few minutes while reinforcements arrive for him. He suggests that you be seen to be flying around the campus slowly at low altitude waving out the windows. The press will be told you are inspecting the situation, so you have a clearer understanding of what is happening, before you land and attempt to put both feet in your mouth.”

“I endorse this wise advice,” Chelan said. “Fortunately, it is no longer the case that we have to worry about student demonstrators deploying surface-to-air missiles. Very well. Driver, let us start with a couple of loops around Chancellor’s Hall, loops around the whole campus, and then let us look at individual buildings. We just want enough altitude that no one can throw rocks at me.”

The National Technical College was a fine example of thoughtful last-century architecture. Chelan reminded himself that the style was old, but the buildings were actually quite recent.   

Facades were brick. Windows, especially on classrooms, were tall and undoubtedly double-glazed. Sidewalks between buildings were quite wide.  Building fronts faced a long central green crisscrossed with walkways. Wide driveways behind the buildings ensured that they could all be reached by truck. Student dormitories, uniformly three stories tall, were in a separate cluster.  He had no trouble spotting the ventilator shafts for the tunnels that meant that in inclement weather students could walk indoors to all of their classes.  At one end of the central green, a large stone building with two obvious modern additions had to be the library. His driver made elegant turns around each group of buildings, the Library getting several extra circles, and then a pass along the border with the town.

Pamela spoken to her throat mike, then waited for an answer.

“Conti,” Pamela said, “reports that the College was built on unorganized land, so the local jurisdiction is Federal, not state or local, but he can phone up the local sheriff without giving him any problems.”

“Do we know why they’re doing this? Do we know what they want?” Chelan asked.

“It reads like something out of one of those interregnum historical pot-boilers,” Pamela answered. She shook her head. “Apparently the former Chancellor announced today was a holiday, told everyone on the staff to stay home, and when the protesters occupied the Hall, at first no one allegedly knew they were doing this. Outside the building, there are whole bunch of students and faculty who are on the other side. The two groups are shouting names at each other.”

“When did all this start?” Chelan asked. “I would’ve thought that we haaad some advance warning that there was a problem.”

“Conti says that there was a meeting on one of the athletic fields,” Pamela said, “and at some point the people who don’t want you marched over here and occupied the building. There was some amount of underground organization, since Conti says this demonstration didn’t seem to be spontaneous. He emphasizes that he still trying to find out what’s really going on, since our people on the ground were on the far side of campus, parked to defend the library in accord with Seldon Legion customs.”

“Did someone threaten the library?” Chelan asked, his tone of voice suddenly turning much grimmer. 

“That’s a negative, sir,” Pamela answered.

“We seem to have a good example of what happens when you don’t have adequate intelligence or people on the ground in advance,” Chelan said.  “If I’d known this was happening, I could have advanced to the local Residence Inn, announced I was having a delayed breakfast, and let our good people find out what was happening without the people inside the Hall getting to claim that they’d disrupted the Senate’s plans.  Now I’m committed to landing, waving at people, and giving the folks inside the Hall some cockamamie claim that they’d won.”

“I’ve seen train wrecks,” Andrew answered, “press photographers see more than the rail companies would like, but usually railcars hold up better than that. Those look flattened, with pieces like wheels trailing behind them.  Okay, I’ll get my photographs. I don’t see anyone who survived the crash waving.”

“We should be good on fuel, shouldn’t we?” Charles asked. “Not that you wouldn’t of spoken up, Cornelius, if we were wasting too much of it.”

“There’s not much wind,” Cornelius answered. “We can do 500 miles, easy, especially if we go up a few thousand feet.  But I’d like to reach Prescott to tell people what happened.”

“Let’s keep heading there,” Charles said emphatically. “we still have three missing trains, one of which was carrying passengers.”

A few minutes flight brought them to the remains of the mortal vessel of the passenger train. 

“This time they stayed on the tracks,” Cornelius announced. “But those cars.  They’re burned down to the floorboards.  And the locomotive looks half-melted.”

“Old cars,” Andrew said. “I’ve ridden on them.  Bottom is steel or cast iron, top is mostly wood.  The wood is gone.”

“Where are the survivors?” Andrew asked.  “Or at least the bodies.  Surely someone managed to jump from a burning car?”

“For that matter,” Andrew said, “that’s a signal, a new one of steel, looks half bent over, but there should be a signal tower. Let’s circle around again, though I think I see the tower’s foundation.  Tower is gone, no sign of the signalmen.  What could’ve happened?”

“Could we do a couple of passes, so I can get enough pictures?” Charles shook his head. These were going to be unbelievable photographs, he thought, for the Rising Sun, in fact for the national press. I  might even get a Pulitzer Prize out of it.  It was certainly a pretty medal if I win one.  

The second paper was accepted, and has been published in Polymers. A Third Paper went out the door to Studies in Philosophy and History of Science. A fourth paper is fairly close to being submitted, except that on due consideration I have to redo all of the figures to make them easier to read. I did something standard, and something slightly different will make matters much clearer. Polishing the writing of that paper and tuning ca. 100 figures is my current project.

At that point I see several choices of a next technical paper. One is a repeat of past analyses on Rouse modes and mean-square displacements, except applied to blends. Another is a paper whose working title is “The deGennes-Doi-Edwards Model of Polymer Dynamics is Wrong at All Points”. For a third, a problem I have been trying to solve for 40 years, and think I finally see how, assuming that the approach is correct, which I do not yet know, namely extending the hydrodynamic scaling model to the time domain to calculate detailed time dynamics of polymer motions.

“Yes, ma’am.” Bell smiled.  “Bulger actually assembled everything needed to build starships, and when he couldn’t, had a good crew mothball the works.  Challenge is that the full construction works would need a lot of people to run them.  That’s more people than can fit on our payroll, with current incomes.  But a detour gets us a solution.”

“Detour?” Morningstar asked.  “Victor has been justly emphatic…we need to focus completely on getting the yards and ships up and running.”

“For his long-term objectives,” Bell said, “he needs lots of things.  The detour gets one of these.  We have all these molecular spray systems being brough back to operation.  We have the rare earth concentrates we can’t sell. But we can build low-field fusactors.  And the hypothetical  Bulger Electric can sell the electricity they produce.”

“We can build fusactors?” Morningstar asked.  “Safety issues?”

“Exact copies of the units we already have,”  Bell asnwered.  “We have the CAD-CAM plans.  They aren’t traditional civilian low-field systems, which can be made with conventional machining but gobble huge amounts of rare earths to build, so, for example, Australia has all of two fusactors.  Lots more are on order, but rare earth supply was the bottleneck.  We have smaller units, which you can’t build without molecular spray, but which require far less in terms of transition elements to build.”    

A Peaceful Academic Environment

Victor Chelan’s aircar overflew the National Technical College and began its final approach to the parking area near Chancellor’s Hall.  Ahead of him, another, larger air car filled with his Seldon Legion bodyguards had already landed, the bodyguards deploying in a ring around the area where he would set foot.

“Compliments of Group Leader Conti,” Pamela Davis said, “and he has secured the landing zone. He reports, however, that Chancellor’s Hall has been occupied by protesting faculty and students, and asked what he wants done about it.”

“Occupied?” Chelan said. “How positively twentieth-century of them.  I wonder where they came up with that idea.  Has anyone notified the local authorities yet? This appears to be a case for the constabulary.”

“Now up ahead,” Cornelius interrupted, “it’s not a little patch of yellow.  It looks like the whole ground is turned bright yellow. Never never saw that before. I’d land to see what it is, but there’s nowhere out here flat enough for an Oriole to set down, not without crashing and wrecking the plane. You would not enjoy walking twenty miles back to town, especially not with not a lot of water on board.”

“I’ll try to get photos,” Andrew said, “though it’s someday in the future some clever Yankee will invent honest-to-God color film that would let my readers see the images.”

“Change will be obvious,” Charles said. “A couple of pictures now, showing all the brush, because I see no brush at all in that yellow area.”

“Am doing. I’m playing with the exposure time, because that yellow stuff looks bright. At worst my editor has to spring for another plane trip.” He focused on his work.

“Hey!” Cornelius sounded excited. “Up ahead, the rails just stop. Never seen anything like that, either! I’ll slow up and try to stay right above the rails, Andrew, so you can get a good picture of that. I guarantee the rail company and the Governor will want to see it.”

“Got it!  Can’t see anything of the ties, either.”

“OK, I’m pulling up.  I like more ground clearance for when we hit turbulence.”  The Oriole’s engine roared as Cornelius took it to full throttle.  Several minutes and a thousand feet of altitude later, he leveled off.  Ahead, left and right, the ground was a mottled orange. Rising hills then blocked the field of view.

When they crested the hill, the tangled ruins of a freight train were seen below them.

“Descending for a better look, ” Cornelius announced.  “This is not a fighter-interceptor, so we get to circle for a time until we reach a better altitude.”

“Major,” Andrew asked, “what do you make of the wreckage?”

“Cars scattered left and right, what’s left of the engine on its side, scars in the ground where the engine rolled on its side and skidded for a piece?” Charles observed, half to himself.  “They were proceeding at speed, and suddenly the sky fell in on them.  No rails, no ties, something did massive damage.  Never saw anything like it when I was over there, and we did a lot of recon and photo recon of German rail systems.”

I returned a revised paper to a journal. The paper had indicated that if I did what the referees said, which I did, the paper would be accepted. It is a math method, treating what is actually a difficult problem: If you have a set of measurements showing a smooth curve, how do you extract the first derivative of the curve at points along the curve? This is well known to be a very difficult problem if the data has noise, but I found an adequate method for my interests.

If the paper is accepted, it will be my second published paper this year.

“The bondholders will be concerned,” Benjamin Goldsmith said.  “They may want to litigate.”

“Tell them the truth,” Victor responded.  “There is a construction timeline, and the resulting income streams.  We know what they will be for years into the future.  Everything is happening on automatic, so I am almost a figurehead.”

“We need to start,” Lawrence said, “with an extended talk with Elaine Bell, so that we have a clear understanding of what the repair sequence is and how soon we will get a larger cash flow.  However, we need to discuss this, while accepting your offer to take a walk.  Please send in Miss Bell.”

Victor dutifully went on his way. Elaine Bell held the door for him, marched into the room, and waited to take her seat until Morningstar pointed at the vacant chair.

“Good morning, Miss Bell,” Morningstar said.  “Thank you for joining us.”

“You summoned, sir” she answered.  “I came.”

“Victor tells us we only have three freighters, have lost income due to the cartel, and you have the solution?” Morningstar asked.

“Yes, sir,” Bell answered.  “In some order, three of our freighters are what they claim to be.  The fourth is a cheap knock-off.  The joints between structural girders were only welded, and not very well, either.  We has to open several sections, and found fractures, points where the  strakes and ship’s frame were separating. On further examination, the ship was about to fall apart.”

“Repairable?” Goldsmith asked.

“Cheaper to dismantle,” Bell answered., “ use the good parts in our other ships, and build a completely new frame.   Many of the ribs are also cracked.  Simply to inspect we need to take her completely apart.”

“How charming,” Margaret Evans remarked.   “We knew there might be unseen hazards.  But Victor said you had a plan.”