“Of course, Dad,” Travis said. 

Twenty minutes later, Winston and Travis stood at the edge of town. Further out were several corrals with a few horses. The blue star was clearly in sight.

“Calm day,” Travis said.  “Cool for once, meaning less shimmer in the air.  Your job is to stand back and look important while I set this thing up.  It’s a one-man job, and this device is expensive.”

Another five minutes and Travis, sitting on a low stool, stared through the theodolite’s telescope. 

“Amazing,” he said.  “I can see the zepp.  Easier if I rotate the scope, just enough that that light is well off axis.  Here, take a look.  Careful, do not bump the stand.”

Winston took his turn.  “Remarkable.  What is it? Do we have enough time for me to sketch it?”

“Be my guest.”

Winston pulled a pad and pencil from his carryall.  Lines flew across the paper.  After not long, he stopped.  “Close enough for amateur work,” he announced. 

He realized that there was now a third person standing politely back but looking over his shoulder at his drawing.  He turned his head, stood, and politely tipped his hat.

“Afternoon, ma’am,” Winston said.  “Wasn’t that you at the railroad station?”

“You have a good eye for faces,” she answered.  “I’m Melanie Hayes.  Boss got my telegram, said wait here, so I’m picking up some spending money guarding the company’s corral and feeding a few horses.  Our regular here heard about the Heath, the bodies, the cavalry, and announced he and wife were visiting relatives. In Ireland.”

“I’m Winston Cooper, Associate Sheriff, and this gentleman is Travis Spencer.   Guarding?” Winston asked. “This is a law-abiding town.”

“A few nights ago, the night the Heath appeared, the horses were spooked,” Melanie answered.  “O’Hara, he was our night guard, thought there was a mountain lion. He heard its growl, didn’t see anything.”

“I eagerly endorse this proposal of transport,” Tzoltzin said.  “And, while it may surprise you, one of the things I do wish to experience, before I return home, is a polar blizzard.  While safe, of course, behind heavy window panes.  After all, your planet is something of an extreme, for a place where intelligence developed, in terms of its polar axial tilt.”

The Test Facility foyer was pleasantly warm.  Tzoltzin slipped from his raincoat and gratefully accepted the first of a stack of warm towels. 

“On my home world,” he said, “at least the parts fit for habitation, rain falls in the warm months, almost always at night. I fear that my weather gear was not intended for such a challenging storm.”

“Apologies,” Elaine said.  “And if in the future one of your inspections would coincide with severe weather, we will see if we can adjust to your schedule.”

“That is most kind,” Tzoltzin said, “but I shall not quail before the inclemencies of nature.  Nagging my compatriots to design more effective winter clothing seems more to the point.  I do, however, smell tea steeping.”  He accepted a large mug, inhaled deeply the steam rising from its top, nodded, and drank. 

“You have the perfect temperature,” he announced.  “Though if I recall correctly, human palates will prefer it a bit cooler. “  More of his tea disappeared down his throat.  “I would happily sit here and drink, but I fear that my duty must come first.  Lieutenant, please see that at least some of the tea is left for me?  And now let us advance to see your device.”

Bulger Alpha Drive 0 was parked on its pedestal.  Three technicians sat in front of control consoles, ready to power the device up if requested.  Tzoltzin waddled in a large circle around the drive, admiring it from all sides, stopping once and again to admire the design.

“This alpha drive unit,” the Inspector said politely,  “It’s enormous.  This is the true first drive, I gather?  Truthfully, not only have I never seen one, but I gather that one has not been built since sometime in the First Empire.  Does it achieve lift?”

“We’ve done extensive tethered tests,” Elaine answered, “as specified in the design description.  There was some need to tune a few components, but we now see the power curve in the specifications.

“If I appear slow to advance to the tests, it is because I am reminded of being a little boy.  My parents would bring me to our provincial capitol, where there was The Museum of Patents, with exhibits of devices protected by law.  There on a pedestal was a replica – non-functional – of the very first alpha drive, in the form of a quarter-scale replica.  I was a little boy; I thought it was very big.  I saw it during the reign of the Jinjur Emperor Miktos the 57th.”

“If it might explain what happened…I knew some of the people who vanished…I’m happy to help,” Spencer said firmly.  “I have a stack of people who want me, pronto, to resurvey for the new rail line.  There are patches where the ground slumped.  Or so the cavalry said.”

“Sir,” Winston said, “I can’t tell you what to do, this being a free country, but I respectfully urge you not to send anyone into the heath.  That cavalry troop that rode through it.  They lost three horses, the rest looked sick, and the men looked less than well.”

“Dad,” the man at the nearest desk said, “it’s now eight horses, three men in the hospital, docs don’t know why.  Some sort of poison.”

“Oh,” James said, “Mister Cooper, this is my son Travis.” He paused while the two men shook hands.  “I think I don’t need any more persuading about taking that railroad job.  Someone else can do it.  So what height do you need measured?”

“At a guess, it’s a hovering dirigible,” Winston said.  “It’s above, more or less, the middle of the heath. The men who flew over the Heath and took all the newspaper photos spotted it.  It’s been there at least since the day after the blasting.”

“Long time for a zepp to hover,”  Travis said. 

“All I can see, naked eye, looks like a star,” Winston explained.  But from here it’s more or less due south, and from Phoenix it’s more or less due north.  Can’t be a star.”

“When that pilot flew around the heath, a couple times, did he ever see it?” Travis asked.

“I asked him that,” Winston said, “the second and third time he showed up.  He said, when he flew around the heath,  counterclockwise, just outside of it, this star was always at his nine o’clock, no matter if he was flying north, south, east, or west.”

“I’m game,” Travis said.  “Dad, I’ll need the large theodolite, and borrow the car.  I’ve never done a star—what looks like a star—but it must be a good target. Stars are points, after all.  East and west ends of town should be good.”

“With my blessings,” James said.  “I was at Suzy Jameson’s wedding, helped deliver her second daughter.  Once for that was enough.  Please catch the bastards who did this.  I’ll happily help string them up.  After a fair trial, of course.”

“And thank you for your excellent guided tour of your very interesting spaceship.”  Tzoltzin put his hands across his chest, fingers downward, marking a polite end to the discussion.  Followed by his Adjutant, he returned to his air car.

There is now a gap of a fair number of years.

See the Alpha Core

Primary Atomic Spray Facility One

Bulger Shipyards, North California

Elaine Bell stood at one corner of the landing field, waiting for her expected guests.  Today was gray and rainy, a December chill having replaced the warmer weather.  Gusts of wind drove puddles across the landing field.

“Senor Inspector Tzoltzin’s aircar is on final approach,” the voice in her earbug announced,  “coming in at 270 true.  Takeoff of the Mighty Transporter II is being held until he lands.  Bulger Flight Control, out.”

She looked out over the waters of the Pacific.  The roar of the waves, driven by a storm still well off-shore, was unusually loud. Waterproof rain gear or not, she was facing into the wind, and could feel raindrops breaking across her face.  There, dipping below the cloud line was the bright Republic Orange of the Inspector’s air transport.   She felt the distinct hum of a vehicle landing with the support of an alpha drive core.  As it settled to earth, her freight transporter rolled forward, positioning itself as close as possible to the aircar’s now extending landing ramp.

Lieutenant Tashiro Junichiro appeared at the passenger hatch, made a cursory check of the surroundings, and marched down the ramp.  “Elaine,” he said as he reached bottom, “it is as always good to see you.  The Senior Inspector will follow in a moment; he is donning weather gear.”

“Apologies for the climate, but you can’t put a weather screen over a landing field,” Elaine said.

“Curiously, the Inspector said the same thing.  He grumbled about the expected near-polar weather.”

“We ran up the temperature inside the building,” Elaine said, “and have the stack of heated drying cloths that I gather are the Creztailian custom.  There is also hot tea.”

“Heated cloths are indeed the custom,” Junichiro said, “and he is fond of your Australian Keemun tea if it can be had.”

“Ready and waiting.”  Fortunately, Elaine thought, Mabel Brixton keeps careful notes on these things.

“And here is the Senior Inspector,” Lieutenant Tashiro announced. 

Inspector Tzoltzin waddled down the ramp, his batrachian snout pulled back under a long rain hood.  “Ah, Great Commander of Building Things Bell.  I am of course delighted to see you, despite your sad weather. Though I have read there are places north of here where the rain falls as beautiful white crystals, hopefully only to be seen from the far side of a thick pane of glass.”

“And I greet you also, Senior Inspector,” Elaine answered, her arms outstretched with palms up.  The Inspector repeated the gesture.  “However, be so kind as to step into the transporter, and we will be in someplace more comfortable in a few moments.  Of course, if you ever wish to see a snow storm, you could visit our Polar Coastline.”

And for those curious as to what I am doing, I just had accepted another technical paper, this one on polymer dynamics. There is a received standard model of how polymers, long stringy molecules, move if you take a block of polymer (think ‘plastic’), melt it, and measure polymer motions in the melt. The model unambiguous predicts that the average distance traveled climbs as time raised to some power, typical powers being 1/2 or 1/4. The prediction is completely wrong. One infers that the standard model, the reptation-tube model, is also wrong. Polymers do not move as t to some power, no matter which power you assume. The paper is somewhat more than 110 journal pages long, though much of it is graphs of computer simulation outputs.

I know have a stack of novels on which I am working, and will soon start on publishing another technical paper, though I am not sure which one.

“Any other ideas?” Radnor asked.  “Governor is upset I haven’t arrested the guilty parties yet.  I have no idea who they are.  That’s assuming there’s a guilty party, not a poison geyser.  Can’t arrest Yosemite, even if it kills someone sometimes.”

“One.” Winston smiled.  “Is there a surveying place that owes a favor you can call in?  I need the height of something measured.”

“Spencer and Sons,” Radnor answered.  For once, he thought, Winston had asked a simple question.  “Tell them I sent you.  Three streets down, hang a left, about half a block down on the right.”

Spencer and Sons had a modest sign hanging out beyond their awnings.  The hum of electric fans filled the air inside.  Several younger men, and a younger woman, were seemingly hard at work at desks. An older man sat in back, his desk on a modestly raised platform.  He waved  at Winston, summoning him.

Winston, hat in hand, walked swiftly to the rear of the room.

“Yes, Deputy? I hope nothing is wrong here,” the older man said.

“Hello.  I’m Winston Cooper.  The Sheriff, Radnor Cooper, is my grandfather.  He sent me.”

“And I am James Spencer,” the older man said as he stood.  “I own this establishment.  Why did Radnor send you?”

“I’m in charge of investigating the blasted heath,” Winston explained.  “Gramps, Sheriff Cooper, gave me the job. He thinks I went to Harvard so I know everything.  Not hardly.  But I have a surveying problem, so he said I should ask you for help, if you’d be willing.  It’s one height measurement, no more, and can be done from town.”

“Understood,” Tzoltzin said, “though I am confident that the Republic can currently find all the drive cores you need to maintain your shipping fleet, at a very small fraction of the expense of developing a new class of ship, as you are doing.  After all, you do have a fiduciary responsibility to your debtors and stockholders  to maximize their profits.”

“As it happens, the only remaining debts are owed to me,” Chelan said, “the ownership rights are divided between me and the Seldon Legion, and we are in complete agreement as to our plans, plans that include the construction effort that you were so kind as to inspect today.  So I am grateful for your extremely generous offer, but I must decline.”

“For you and leading Legion members, it would be possible to arrange highly lucrative consultancies,” Tzoltzin observed, “if you were to accept my offer.  Very highly lucrative consultancies.”

“Your offer is overwhelmingly generous, but I am legally forbidden to accept such an offer.”  He shook his head firmly.  “Citizens of the Anglic Union may not work for foreigners.  There is also a question of currency exchange under your laws.   You have a very long flight back to Batavia.  I have other work to which I must urgently attend.  I believe in the interests of amity we should allow you to return home.”

“I understand that sometimes local cultures have strong and highly proper reasons for going about things in expensive and inefficient ways, and I respect you for holding to your reasons,” Tzoltzin said. “And I can see where certain of my colleagues have been – I believe that the amusing English phrase that you may not know is’hoist by their own petard’ – caught up by their own cleverness.”

Chelan wondered how Tzoltzin could manage that line without laughing.

“To set forth on the starry void in a ship of your own design,” Tzoltzin said, “is an act of great courage, which I much respect. If you change your mind, the offer remains open.  But you are correct. I should be on my path homeward.”

“In that case,” Chelan said, “thank your for your remarkably generous offer.  Only a fool would foreclose accepting such a proposal on drive cores and fusactors, let alone on the consultancies, so I shall not do so.”

* * * * *

Several days later, a troop of state militia cavalry showed up at City Hall.  The troop dismounted in the Public Common, waiting while their Lieutenant filed his report via Western Union.  They’d spent three days riding the length of the missing rails, looking for survivors of the train wrecks.  None had been found.  Isolated farm houses had been destroyed, leaving nothing beyond foundations and fireplaces.

Winston dutifully walked across the Common.  Grandpa had told him to ask if anything had  been seen near the Jameson Ranch.  The troopers, Winston thought, were remarkably lackadaisical.   Their horses were mangy horseflesh.  He counted.

“Are some of your horses someplace else?” he asked.  “There seem to be more of you than horses to ride on.”

“We had three horses die,” the troop’s Sergeant said.  “We brought along plenty of fodder.  Streams were  running clean.  No idea what happened. And when we left, horses were in prime condition, not like this, not at all.”

“I see.” Winston shook his head.  “A shame about the horses.  Sheriff asked if you had seen anything near the Jameson ranch — that was the last foundation before you came back to normal ground.”

“No, sir,” the Sergeant answered, “but by then we were just pushing to get out of the orange sand.  Especially at night, it’s unearthly. It glows.  Strange colors. Frightening.”

“Thank you, then, Sergeant,” Winston tipped his hat.  “I have my work waiting for me.”  He tapped his badge, saluted, stepped away from the cavalrymen, and headed back to the Jail.

Grandfather was waiting for him.  Raised eyebrows sent a clear message.

“No such luck,” Winston said.  “They saw nothing.  But warn people to keep out of the area.  They lost three horses in three days, the other horses look sick, and the men don’t look all that well, either.  Your poison gas guess…there may still be some hanging around.”

“Oh, joy.” Radnor frowned deeply.  “So if we get a strong south wind, it comes here?  That’s not good.  Perhaps that orange stuff is bad for you?  It doesn’t blow around; the grains stick to each other.  You sent some of those pretty rocks and the orange sand off to California to tell us what they are.  Have you heard yet?”

“No, Gramps.  Figure a week to reach the place where Honest Ike told me to send samples, at best another week for them to tell us what’s there, and another week for a letter to get back.  We might know next month.”

“I see,” Tzoltzin acknowledged.  “As per treaty, I need a few minutes to record all this.”

“The treaty is clear,” Bell answered.  “If you want us to adjust the listing, you have but to ask.”

“Not necessary.”  His free hand made a gesture of negation.  “I should apologize for doubting your honesty.  A ship without alpha cores? In my many years as an Inspector, this outcome has not previously arisen.  You see, when you reach my age – when I was born, this continent had not yet had European settlements — you can still have new experiences.  This is good.”  

Recording finished, the party headed back toward Tzoltzin’s aircar.   Victor Chelan stood in the parking lot, awaiting their return.  He wore the classic men’s garb of the last century, tan trousers, shirt and open tunic, high-collared full-length cream dress cape, and a conical hat.

“Senior Inspector,” Chelan said, not bothering to smile, “I gather you have some questions for me?”

“You will not receive me in your office?” Tzoltzin asked.

“Your inspection area is limited to spaceships we are building,”  Chelan answered.  “Unless you claim I have a starship under my desk?”  Good try, he thought, but you do not get to insert spyprobes everywhere.

“Clearly not,” Tzoltzin acknowledged.  “However, I have been shown an improbable object, namely a spaceship with no alpha cores, nor any place to put them, and wonder if there is some deception.”

“That’s a legitimate concern,” Chelan answered.  “Not tactful, but legitimate.  Our current freight haulers are quite old.  At some point they will wear out, needing huge amounts of maintenance.  One has already worn out.  Inquiries by past management revealed a galaxy-wide alpha drive core and fusactor shortage, in that they could not buy either alpha cores or high-field fusactors.  From anyone.  We are therefore building ships – you saw the test bed vessel – that are based only on devices we can build without trespassing on your patent rights.”

“Building ships?” Tzoltzin asked.  “More than one?”

“I expect I will be seeing a great deal of you,” Chelan answered.  “The number of inspections climbs impressively as the ship becomes larger.  Unless you decide to trust us, in which case you could skip most of your during-construction inspections.  Of course, trust is a rare and expensive commodity.”

“Perhaps, if you limited yourself to replacing your current ships, we could find new alpha cores for you,”  Tzoltzin said, “enough to maintain your current vessels, so you could avoid the vast expense of developing new classes of spaceship.”

“That would be an interesting alternative,” Chelan said, “but I think we prefer our current approach, which does not risk putting you in the embarrassing position, someday, of having to tell us that the Stellar Republic is out of alpha drive cores again.  After all, to advance amity it is best not to do things that would embarrass your amicable partners.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll keep them elsewhere.”

“Why were you interested in them, anyhow?  And the sand?” Radnor asked.

“Never seen sand like that.  And there were patches everywhere. Besides the pretty rocks on the ground, the ones in the bottle, there were several stuck into what was left of the house’s concrete wall.  Only the south side of the house.  And the concrete looked spalled where the stones were imbedded. Had to be going at a good clip when they hit the wall.”

“Sensible.  And here we are at the Trinity, and I see the special is all sold out.  You like prime rib?” Radnor asked.

* * * * *

Much later in the evening, Winston returned to the Sheriff’s office. 

“Evening, Hugh,” he called to the Sergeant on duty.

‘Evening, Winston…been quiet since you two left.  Two familiar drunks now in the tank. One fistfight, settled before our man got there, with apologies all around.  Phone calls, now from the Eastern press.  Chicago. New York.  Washington.  Boston.  All want to know about  south of here.  Someone’s calling it the  ‘blasted heath’.  I told each of them.  I’m the night desk.  No one told me anything.  That aeroplane that flew in today.  They saw things, told the Phoenix Rising Sun about it.  Sun ran a big extra.  Those newspapers heard wild rumors from the Sun.  Rail tracks gone.  Trains destroyed.  Railmaster called. Figure a two day delay in mail from Phoenix, so we see that newspaper last.”

Winston’s mail was waiting, locked in his desk.   The envelope was from the Physical Review.  “…apologies for the delay…took paper to Europe to ask an opinion…Einstein says yes…Bohr is furious…I am pleased to accept your paper ‘A Proposed Experimental Test of the Photon Hypothesis’…”  The paper was surely good news.  It meant that his stay in Prescott would not destroy his career.  The letter from Einstein discussed photons.  Winston decided that he was honored to be included in the small circle of men to whom Einstein thought it worthwhile to write. A reply would need careful consideration.

The phone rang. Winston dutifully picked up the receiver.  Polite back-and-forth revealed that the caller was from the Los Angeles Times.  He wanted to know who had caused the blasted heath, and how it could be prevented from forming again elsewhere.  Winston alternated ‘we don’t comment on ongoing investigations’ with ‘no comment’ and ‘a hitherto unnoticed volcanic fissure that erupts burning sand’, not that it stopped the reporter.

The Times reporter finally hung up.  Winston remarked to Hugh “A few more days, and these reporters will all be here.  It will be a complete circus.”