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the first rev."
"You did that all right, but by then you were in the detection envelope of the
second without enough power to outrun a solar-sail ore carrier or a water
asteroid on a slow spiral." Trystin nodded.
"Do you see. Lieutenant? Each decision you made seemed perfectly logical.
Except for one. "That toggling of your defense shields was unnecessary,
probably the only really overtly stupid thing you did, not that it would have
changed the outcome much. Anyway, there are times when you'd just better cut
your losses and run for home."
Folsom stared at Trystin. "Now . . . I understand young pilots. None of you
want to admit that there's something you can't handle. There's a saying that
dates back to the first years of atmospheric flight. It's still true. 'There
are old pilots, and there are bold pilots, but there are no old bold pilots.'
"The other thing that you had to be considering in not choosing a high
ecliptic exit was the compounded translation error. Is saving a month-or a
year-in elapsed time worth the rest of your life? Some pilots have thought so.
I hope you're not one of them. After all, we do have several million credits
already invested in you, one way or another." . .
Trystin nodded once more, trying not to reveal that the commander had caught
him out again.
Folsom picked up the papers from the table and stood. "Not too bad, all in
all. Especially if you learn something from it." Trystin stood. "Yes, ser."
The slender commander walked out, his steps slow and deliberate.
After packing up his notes, Trystin flicked off the debriefing room lights and
walked down the corridor toward the ramps. He'd have to hurry if he wanted to
get a shower before his translation-engineering class, and the way he smelled,
he needed a shower.
The simulators were on nearly the bottom levels-that was because it was easier
to cancel the grav fields generated by the equipment nearer the center of the
small moon-or big asteroid-that was Chevel Beta.
He had almost reached J level when he heard someone come out of a corridor
below and start to follow him up the ramps. "Trystin?" He stopped and turned.
Jonnie Schicchi trudged up the ramp behind him. "I saw you had Commander
Folsom as your setup instructor. Constanzia says he's a mean old bastard."
"He's tough," Trystin conceded. "Everything here is tough." Schicchi looked
down at the ramp. "You figure out the power-translation problems?"
"Most of them, except the second one. As far as I could figure out, you can't
make a translation. " Trystin wiped his still-damp forehead. "But the
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worksheet asks for power requirements, maximum distance, and a coordinate
envelope. I don't know." "So what did you do?"
Trystin shrugged. "Put down the calculations indicating it couldn't be done. I
probably overlooked something, and Commander Eschbech will make me feel like
an idiot." Trystin looked up the ramp. "I've got to get moving. I need a
shower before class." "So do I, but I'm too tired to rush." "See you later."
Trystin hurried up the ramps toward J level and his cubicle. Luckily, all the
classes were on D level-as were the few administrative offices.
"Right. Maybe Yamidori can help me with the engineering stuff."
Trystin didn't rise to the bait, although he felt vaguely sorry for Schicchi.
Supposedly, Jonnie had great instincts, at least in the simulator, but equally
great difficulties with more abstract exercises.
Trystin began to unfasten the shipsuit even before he was fully inside his
cubicle.
22
"Before we approach the tactical aspects of translation, such as the virtual
impossibility of synchroneity, that is, the synchronization of translations
and emergence from translation by separate spacecraft, we need to discuss
translation error. We talk about 'translation error,' but is it really an
error? Of course not." Commander Kurbiachi nodded at his own answer to his
question. "We call it an error because we cannot determine in advance exactly
how much apparent elapsed time passes in our space-time universe while a ship
is in the process of translating between the congruencies created by a
translation engine. Two identical ships with precisely, or as precise as we
can make it, the same cargo and personnel can routinely emerge at the same
point inspace with differences in translation time as great as two months. The
problem is that each ship, each point of translation, each time of translation
is unique. Thus, even attempting to determine the impact of literally hundreds
of subtly different variables upon a translation through what can be roughly
called chaos, though it is not, becomes a mathematical problem beyond the
capabilities of any equipment yet developed. Oh, our estimations have gotten
relatively precise, but they are only estimations, and they are really only
even halfway precise for a single ship. . . most references do not account for
the impact of the so-called translation error upon multiple ship movements . .
."
Sitting in the second row of the dozen-plus would-be pilots, comprised of
officers at three slightly different practical training levels, Trystin
stifled a yawn.
"As established by the noted academician Ryota more than a century ago,
because so-called translation error is a function of the unique properties
linked to each translation, the result approximates a random distribution
within a range limited by the gross variables of the situation." The commander
paused as a major in the third row raised her hand. "Yes, Major?"
"I might be getting ahead, but theoretically," asked Ulteena Freyer,
"theoretically, if you had a large enough group of ships, and you attempted
simultaneous translations, effectively wouldn't you end up with groups of
ships emerging at roughly coincident times?"
"That is certainly theoretically possible, and it was one of Ryota's theorems
that such would be the case-the Distribution Theorem. However. . ."-Kurbiachi
paused before continuing-"the number of variables involved would have
required, according to Ryota's calculations, based on the translation engines
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