There's a lot of build up here, but it's all necessary to the plot. The ship is based on the Virgin Galactic Spaceship Two (Google it), only bigger. It's also based on some ideas for "space cruise ships" that I saw on Science Channel. Yes, I'm a nerd. Bear with me, though.
It was just after 4:00PM on Wednesday when the group rolled into the parking lot of the SpaceCations complex in Spokane. They had left at 8:30AM for the four and a half hour drive, but with Mrs. Benson's obsessive need to clean every rest area they stopped at, and Sam insistence that they stop for food every hour, the trip took nearly twice as long as they expected. Nerves were frayed and tensions were high.
They were met in the front lobby by Richard Blanton himself. "Hey! It's my new favorite web hostesses. Are we ready to get this show on the road?" Using a blue keycard to access secured areas, he lead them down the hallway to the main control room, where they were met by Dr. Smith.
Freddie was in awe of the technology in the room. Just the enormous monitors lining three walls of the room must have cost a small fortune. The room was lined with rows of control consoles, similar to what he'd seen when his mother took him to the Johnson Space Center in Houston a few years ago, except even more high tech. A number of technicians manned these consoles. "Wow, this must've cost a bundle," Freddie mumbled in his excitement.
"I'm a billionaire, I can afford it," Blanton said by way of explanation. "Besides, if this works, I expect to have plenty of paying customers who'll want to spend a week in space."
"A week!" Carly and Sam both squealed, shocked.
Dr. Smith cut in, "You'll be flying a modified mission profile, only 48 hours. Liftoff is at 0900 tomorrow-"
Blanton interrupted, "That's nine o'clock."
Smith glared at his clueless boss, who didn't even seem to notice. The scientist continued, "Once you're in orbit, you'll spend the rest of tomorrow getting acclimated to zero-G, then Friday, you'll rehearse the web show, making sure we iron all of the kinks out of the camera control system. Friday evening, on your normal schedule, you'll broadcast the web show live from space, then Saturday morning at 0800, we'll begin de-orbit procedures. You should be back on the ground by 0900."
"Excuse me," Carly spoke up. "Will we be the only ones going on this flight, or will there be paying customers?"
"It will be just the two of you, alone in space," Blanton answered.
"What about the pilot?" Mrs. Benson spoke up.
Dr. Smith fielded the question, "There is no pilot. The computer manages the entire mission profile, from mothership separation to touchdown, and we'll be monitoring from the ground."
Now Spencer was concerned. This was his baby sister, as well as the girl who would probably be his future sister-in-law. He wanted to make sure they were safe. "No pilot? Isn't that dangerous?"
"Not at all," Blanton assured him. "We're using state-of-the-art artificial intelligence. The on-board computer is a far more capable pilot than any human. It also functions as cruise director and concierge to the guests on board. Just wait until you meet him."
"Him?" Sam questioned.
"Loosely speaking, yes," Dr. Smith replied. "The computer's interface is designed to mimic human interaction. The computer was developed and trained in Japan by one of their leading scientists in the field of artificial intelligence, Dr. Hikaru Sulu. The computer was given a male personality to match its name: the Digital Algorithmic Neuroprocessor, or DAN for short."
"Why don't we go down to the hangar and take a tour of the ship? That will give Spencer and Mrs. Benson a better idea of what's going to happen during the next two days," Blanton suggested.
A few minutes later, the group was walking through a large hangar behind the main building. Inside was the strangest airplane that Carly Shay had ever seen. Aside from being enormous, it looked like two 747s had been attached at the wingtips, only the wings came out from the top of the fuselage. Attached in the midpoint of the combined wing was a smaller craft. It was shorter, but still about the size of a small jetliner, only much wider. It had small, stubby wings, a tail, and three large rocket engines in the back. Both craft were painted jet black, and the door to the smaller craft was open, with a rolling staircase, like you would see at many airports, pushed up to the side so they could board.
Very theatrically, Blanton waved to the ship. "I present, the Trojan Intergalactic Spacecraft Dos, and its carrier plane, the Nightshade. Aren't they beautiful?"
Carly looked at Freddie, whose jaw was so far open he was drooling. Spencer was in nearly the same condition. If Carly didn't know better, she'd swear she could hear the Galaxy Wars theme song playing in their heads. Carly herself did have to admit it was pretty damned impressive. Sam, as usual, looked underwhelmed. "Meh, it's nice," the little blonde answered.
The seven of them walked up the steps and into the ship. The room they entered was amazing. The wall across from the entrance hatch was a window, which wrapped around to the ceiling. When they were in space, the view would certainly be incredible. The room itself was furnished very much like the teacher's lounge at Ridgeway, only nicer, with several tables which were molded into the floor, and a refrigerator and microwave built into the corner along the wall facing aft. A large cabinet extended out from the wall next to the fridge. Along the side near the door were several seats which looked like the kind you'd find in first class on a modern airliner, which Dr. Smith explained were for takeoff and landing. On the "side" walls, which actually went forward and aft on the ship, there were two doors, one to the fore marked Cabin One, the other to the aft marked Cabin Two.
Sam, of course, went immediately to the refrigerator. "Hey, there's actual food in here, and it's not powdered," she exclaimed.
"Of course it's not powdered," Blanton explained, "we wouldn't do that to paying guests."
Carly was aghast, "But if this ship is so huge, and the food's not powdered, then what was up with that little walnut of a pod?"
"Silly little webgirl," Blanton replied condescendingly, "if we'd have locked you in a comfortable room this size, what kind of challenge would that have been?"
Dr. Smith explained it better. "We needed to see your reaction under a worst case scenario."
Mr. Blanton led them through the door into Cabin One. "Carly, this is your room," he explained. "Sam, yours is Cabin Two, but the layout is identical, only backwards."
The cabin had a layout similar to a small, but nice, hotel room, except that again, a massive window dominated the one side and ceiling of the room. It clearly extended the length of the ship. Along the fore wall, a king sized bed dominated most of the room. The non-window side wall contained a dresser and a desk that had a computer terminal built into it.
Sam started running towards the bed, yelling "I get dibs on the left side!" She bounced onto the bed and discovered that it was a solid piece of plastic. There was virtually no padding at all. "Ow! Comfy bed," she remarked, sarcasm evident.
"You'll be in space, Sam," Freddie explained. "Zero G. You don't need padding, you'll just float."
"Very good, little tech boy," Blanton commented. "The bed is like a sleeping bag, only it inflates to hold you in, and to keep you together in the case of couples, who we expect to be our biggest customer. As far as newlyweds go, we're hoping to be the next Niagara Falls." He paused, "But, Sam, your room is back there."
Carly spoke up, blushing furiously, "Um, we'll be... uh... sharing a room."
Carly could see the wheels turning in Blanton's head, but decided that 'don't ask, don't tell' was probably the best policy for now. The billionaire looked at Spencer, who simply shrugged – he'd crossed that bridge with the girls a long time ago. "Oh, okay," Blanton mumbled.
Dr. Smith walked over to the desk, tapped a few keys on the terminal and a disembodied male voice was heard. "Hello, Doctor Smith."
Dr. Smith appeared to speak into the air. "Hello, DAN. These girls are your guests for this special mission." He gestured at Sam and Carly.
Blanton, ever excited, spoke up, "Ladies, please introduce yourselves."
Carly was hesitant, "Hello, um, DAN. My name is Carly Shay."
Sam, not so much, "Sam Puckett. What goes on?"
The disembodied voice spoke again, "Welcome aboard Miss Shay, Miss Puckett. I will endeavor to make your trip enjoyable, and I look forward to serving you for the next week."
"Smith, you didn't change the mission profile?" Blanton reprimanded his employee.
"I'll change it when we get back to the control room," Smith responded, defensively.
"Go change it now," the billionaire demanded.
"I'll go change it now," the scientist agreed, walking out.
Dr. Smith walked back to the control room, muttering unkind words about his eccentric boss the entire way. The billionaire was an insufferable bastard, and he was too stupid to even realize it. If this flight succeeded, the resulting publicity would end up netting Richard Blanton even more billions to add to his collection, but what did Dr. Zach Smith get out of it? A measly 4% raise. Fortunately, there were other ways of getting a piece of that pie, even if they were less than legal.
He walked to his station and sat down. Calling up the mission profile, he updated it to the 48 hours scheduled, and uploaded the change to the on-board computer. Then he opened a command prompt, but he hesitated. If this went wrong, well, let's just say that accidents in space are rarely survivable. Smith was no killer, but there was a lot of money at stake here.
Copy LostInSpace \\DAN\incoming
File copied successfully
Telnet DAN
Ready
Excecute Incoming file "LostInSpace"
Mission Profile updated successfully. Ready for launch.
It was done. He just hoped Blanton would pay up, as he'd hate to see anything happen to those two young girls.