Pandora: The Final Solution
I gratefully acknowledge one of the foremost creative geniuses of our times, James Cameron, for conceiving the lush moon Pandora and the "noble savages," the Na'vi, that inhabit it. This story uses the setting he created for his movie, Avatar. I have not received any money for my work based on Avatar. If I could get paid by the hour for these stories, I would retire and spend all my time dancing and writing in comfort.
This story contains all original characters and situations, set on Earth immediately after the end of the movie. It is the obvious approach to dealing with the Pandoran uprising, with less than obvious consequences.
Chapter 4: Jerry Shipley
Jerry smiles as he hangs up the call from Mr. Winston by pushing a button on his steering wheel. The politicians have little use for him except during budget battles and emergencies. Budget battles are pretty routine, but when emergencies occur, they always call him first. He is their best cover, especially because he is in charge of the team hired to help RDA recover from the worst space disaster in history.
RDA uses numerous space ships to move supplies and personnel throughout the solar system, mainly between the primary RDA deep space station and the mining outposts on various bodies in the asteroid and Kuiper belts. This deep space station is at the L2 Lagrangian point behind Earth opposite the Sun and well beyond the orbit of Luna. It is the main collection point for ice, carbon, and metals. The ice is melted and filtered, and used both for drinking and ore processing, and after hydrolysis in solar plants is also used for breathing and making organic compounds. Solar power is also used to refine the metals. The stony residues and slag are distributed around the habitable modules for radiation and micrometeorite shielding.
Early on, RDA bought their own ships and trained their own personnel to fly them. Of course, these vast capital outlays made the bean counters very unhappy. Over time, RDA moved to a business model more like the 18-wheel lorries on Earth when petroleum was still used as fuel, where RDA contracts with logistics companies to provide dispatchers that plan and schedule shipments and then competitively contract with owner-operators to move the freight and personnel. Many small corporations were formed to buy space ships from the large, multinational aerospace companies and fly them to carry RDA loads. Not all of them prosper, but enough ships are profitable to continually attract new players. RDA also heavily advertises how they are encouraging private enterprise in space, drawing in more companies to provide space transport services. The early RDA space ships had Earth-based control rooms modeled on those mission control centers popularized with early manned space flight, requiring large numbers of highly compensated personnel, mostly engineers and scientists, using lots of custom systems. These huge expenditures also drew much scrutiny from the bean counters. RDA quickly moved to the private aviation model, closing the control centers and giving each ship captain total responsibility for his or her ship. Likewise, the administrator for each outpost was given total operational responsibility along with total profit and loss responsibility, cutting the umbilical with RDA for day to day decisions. RDA worked themselves from a high cost, high risk space transportation operation to a lean, low cost, low risk producer of raw materials from space. Then, the unthinkable occurred.
For reasons that will never be fully understood, an inbound ship collided with an outbound ship near an outpost in the asteroid belt, with the inbound wreckage showering down onto the outpost. The collision is believed to have killed all humans on both ships almost immediately. Most humans in the outpost were killed when the debris rained down and knocked holes in the air-tight structures. Those in the outpost surviving the initial onslaught died a slow death. If RDA had maintained a full-time link with the outpost, maybe it could have managed the disaster in a more acceptable manner. However, news of the disaster was discovered by two teen brothers, who pushed it out onto the Internet in real-time.
The brothers had a grandfather who was one of a dying breed, an amateur radio operator, commonly called a "ham." Their grandfather had collected almost every type and kind of radio ever produced. Many ancient technologies, vacuum tubes, discrete transistors, Morse code keys, radio teletype, slow scan television, and their successors, could be found in his collection. His wife died young, a victim of an accident, and after their children grew up and moved out, he filled the house from basement to attic with his obsolete technical treasures. Next, he filled his garage, and put up a number of "temporary" outbuildings to hold the overflow. His property was covered with radio antenna towers and dishes, including a ten meter dish salvaged from a defunct defense contractor. This property was all that remained of the old family farm that was sold off in pieces to fund the ham's passion. The old farm was not subject to zoning laws, and was "grandfathered" as suburbs were built completely around it. Compared to the surrounding tidy developments, it was very unkempt. Many neighbors hoped it would be cleaned up after the death of the old man.
The ham finally died, and later that very day one of his sons took his family out to the old homestead. None of the children or grandchildren shared their father's interest in radio, but they knew he left many units powered up around the clock. They wanted to reduce the electric bill, and possibly avoid a fire, so they walked throughout the property, shutting off everything they could. The two grandsons opened the door into the outbuilding beside the ten meter dish, and walked in to hear the first maydays sent from the damaged outpost. The older brother remembered his grandfather using the equipment and quickly responded, even using his grandfather's call sign, sounding fairly competent. He didn't know how far out this outpost is, but remembered his grandfather saying signals could take half an hour for close outposts, and many hours for the furthest outposts. After he transmitted his reply, he sat back and waited. The younger brother ran to his father, and explained the situation. Soon, the whole family crowded into the radio shack, listening to the outpost call for help and waiting to hear something different. The father called his lawyer, and asked him to contact RDA and tell them what was happening. Of course, the lawyer called a friend at a local television station first, who immediately dispatched a mobile studio out to the ham's property. The younger brother took his father's phone, and recorded the scene, dumping the video out on the Internet for the world to experience. When the TV truck arrived, they brought in their professional equipment, and took over for the younger brother, putting the brothers together in the now iconic image beside the ancient microphone and radio. They also sent a feed to the network headquarters in New York City, who broke the news nationally. The RDA corporate officers first learned of the incident when the network called asking for their reaction, completely blind-siding the RDA organization. Hours later, the Corporate Counselor found an email from a junior staffer reporting the phone call from the family's lawyer. It had bounced around labeled as a hoax until the network broadcast proved otherwise.
To make matters worse, RDA had no way to communicate with the ill-fated outpost. The primary communications equipment was destroyed by the debris from the collision. A couple of survivors pieced together obsolete equipment found in a crippled shuttle used as a "hanger queen" and aimed the beam towards Earth, hoping someone could hear them. Once the source of the signal was known, hams, radio engineers, and electrical engineering students and faculty at universities around the world tuned in. Quickly, the large news organizations tapped in, putting their own spins on the slow death of the outpost. At first, RDA tried to stop the coverage by legal means, but that made them look like bullies. Some news organizations switched to receivers in third world countries that were beyond the reach of the RDA lawyers. It became the most covered space disaster in history, making RDA look stupid in many ways. RDA plied its connections with MIT to use their equipment to talk to the outpost, and dispatched a rescue mission from their deep space station. Unfortunately, their efforts were too little and too late. Everyone in the outpost died from lack of air and water before help could arrive. The two survivors that built the radio and the others they rescued sent their farewells back to Earth before they killed themselves by blowing a hatch off the old ship. Their parting message was the last word from the outpost until the rescue ship arrived and collected what bodies could be found in the wrecked facility.
In the aftermath of the disaster, the RDA corporate officers were called in front of numerous investigative bodies examining the accident. Of course, most committees were simply looking to cash in on the publicity, and otherwise could do little except embarrass the RDA representatives. RDA was made to acknowledge that their operations had become too much "hands off," and pledged to put into place many reforms to keep such disasters from happening in the future. One such reform was instituting traffic control protocols at each RDA facility. Jerry was hired to write the guidelines and teach these new controllers.
Gerald Shipley, Jerry to everyone, started out as a directionless teen-ager in down-state Illinois. He slid through high school on the jock track, playing football in the fall and baseball in the spring. He was on both varsity teams, but wasn't a star on either, just a solid teammate that got his job done. With his athletic physique and good looks, he had all the attention from his female classmates that he wanted, and that made high school worthwhile in his eyes. Several scouts visited his school to check out the stars, but Jerry wasn't given more than a passing notice. Secretly, he longed to get out of his tiny hometown, and decided the military was his only ticket. He wasn't a geek or motorhead, but technology did interest him. Looking at the services, he picked the Air Force because it was all about flying, and flying is most dependent on technology. He enlisted, and left for basic training the week after his graduation.
During basic, he and his fellow recruits were subjected to a battery of tests designed to identify the best occupational specialty for each. Much to his surprise, Jerry found himself in training to become an air traffic controller. He had heard of air traffic controllers before, but had no idea what they did, except for telling pilots where to fly. He is taught how to use many high-tech components, radars, radios, computers, displays, and the like, but he learns the most important component is human. He is like his sports coaches, keeping track of everything in the playing field, figuring out what must be accomplished, and communicating instructions to the players clearly and succinctly. No matter how slow or how hectic, he had to concentrate on keeping everything moving and avoiding "incidents" and other problems. He had a real talent for this occupation, and quickly proved his ability, moving from sleepy outposts to the busiest airbases around the world.
Like all uniformed personnel, the time came when Jerry was sent into combat duty. He was ordered to a forward air base in one of the numerous hot spots on the other side of the world. It was just a dot on its Joint Operational Graphic, so he knew next to nothing about his new duty station. He flew the last leg to his new home in a helicopter. Before leaving, he introduced himself to the flight crew, who set him up with a headset so he could chat with them and listen in on their communications while flying. He sat in the back with several other replacement personnel, sitting around pallets with high priority supplies. He wondered what was more valuable, the spare parts or the spare personnel. The pallet at his knees was wrapped in clear plastic, and he could see that the top item is a mobile radio, the same model he used to talk to helicopter pilots in training for this posting. As soon as the helicopter landed, the flight line personnel practically pulled everyone out so they could unload the pallets and other cargo. A flight of VIPs was due in, and this helicopter had to leave before they arrived. While the new personnel were sorting out their belongings, the base commander and her staff arrived. They quickly greeted the new personnel, and then hurried to prepare for the VIPs.
As the newcomers were walking across the compound to the housing bunker, several explosions erupted behind them, knocking them on their faces. Rockets had been launched from the nearby mountains. They screamed over the VIP helicopters and smashed into the communications building in the middle of the compound, leveling it and the control tower built on its roof. Jerry picked himself up, and ran back to the pallets. He didn't know if the rockets were launched at the VIP helicopters or the communications building, but he knew he could help if he got his hands on that radio. He cut the mobile radio out of its pallet using his survival knife, and prayed it had a charged battery in it. He turned it on, and it worked perfectly.
He ran to a guard tower at the edge of the compound, and climbed up it so he could see the flight line. When he got to the top, he was shocked to see the body of the sentry lying on the floor, with part of his head blown away. Clearly, a sniper is also part of the attack. He pushed the body to one side, towards the mountains, and laid down on the floor behind it, with the radio in between. He called the helicopter that delivered him, and when he explained his situation to the flight crew, they called for reinforcements and air support against the enemy forces in the mountains. By this time, the VIP helicopters and the attack aircraft stationed on this base were powering up, and things were getting dicey as they all wanted to leave before more rockets slammed into the base. He got on the radio, announced his presence to the pilots, and began sorting out the departures. During the rush, Jerry forgot himself and put one leg up to roll on his side to see the flight line, and was hit by the sniper. The bullet tore through his knee, taking off his kneecap and some underlying tissues. Jerry kept his focus despite the pain, and got all powered up aircraft off the base without incident. His took off his belt and snugged it up as tight as he could around his thigh just above the injury. He called for any med evac helicopters in the area, and sure enough, there were several on the ground in his base. He said he was hit by a sniper and pinned down in the guard tower, and immediately the crews sent him help. The attack helicopters reported that they strafed the mountainside, and the sniper should be gone, one way or another. Taking that as an all clear, a rescue team retrieved Jerry and the dead sentry, and packed Jerry into a med evac helicopter with two other seriously injured airmen. His time in the forward air base lasted less than an hour, but Jerry did his job, preventing any more carnage caused by the confusion after the rocket attack.
Everything after the lift off in the helicopter was a blur because of the pain killers, until he woke up in a hospital bed in Germany. Days later, the commanding general of the US Air Forces in Europe and some of the VIPs that witnessed the attack from their helicopters appeared at his bedside and awarded him several medals. He thanked them, and said he was just doing the job that he was sent there to do. The doctors did the best they could to rebuild his knee, but his athletic days were over. He would always limp, and climbing up ladders in the traffic control towers in some smaller bases was out of the question. After two months of operations, recovery, and physical therapy, he talked his way into working part time in the nearby Ramstein tower. Once he healed enough, he was transferred to Dover, Delaware. Since his disability did not affect his occupational performance, he remained on active duty there as a "wounded warrior" until his enlisted expired. He went to work for a defense contractor and became an instructor, training new air traffic controllers in the same Air Force school where he got his start. In time, he was known throughout the entire air traffic control community, and was recognized as one of the best. So, when RDA started looking for an expert to establish traffic control procedures for their space operations, his name kept coming up. He was reluctant when RDA first talked to him, but the pay raise and challenge were very attractive. What really caught his interest was the need to to travel to the major RDA facilities on Luna, Mars, and the L2 space station to oversee the establishment of the new traffic control centers. He never dreamed of traveling into space, and this job would pay him to do it. To sweeten the deal, RDA offered to send him and his wife to the spa in Earth orbit for one week each year. Not bad for a gimpy kid from the sticks of Illinois. So, he and his family packed up and moved to New Mexico.
RDA was not able to outsource interstellar flight, it was so experimental in so many ways, and had a separate operations center for each interstellar vehicle (ISV) in the high desert. So, it was only natural to place the primary operations center for the solar system here with the rest of their facilities. His family settled into their new lives in Las Cruces, and Jerry prepared for his inspection tour. His children were very excited about his trip, so he promised to email them every day and send pictures when possible. He didn't know what to expect, but promised his bosses he would send them something daily. So, even though he was not much of a writer, he was committed to documenting what he saw, both for his family and his job.
The first leg was very routine, just like any commercial flight, taking him and his wife on a space plane from the New Mexico Spaceport to the RDA space station in Earth orbit. This orbit is higher than previous space stations, because the quantity of space junk has made low Earth orbit much too dangerous. The flight was timed to reach the space station directly, but the pilot had to change course repeatedly to dodge the orbiting debris. The spa and hotel were compact but luxurious, with the spectacular view of Earth overwhelming the smallness of the compartments. Even though it was mainly a vacation for the couple, it gave Jerry time to adjust to space and see the flight surgeon for clearance to fly beyond Earth. Like all couples new to space, they were intrigued by making love in free fall. This space station has a rotating arm to simulate gravity, with the hotel on one end and the residential housing on the other. However, there is a block of zero gravity bedrooms off the arm designed just for love making. The hotel has one video channel devoted to broadcasting a tutorial on the subject, titled "SEX THAT IS OUT OF THIS WORLD!" The Shipleys signed up for a three hour stay, and watched the tutorial beforehand. They were a very conventional couple, never trying bondage games before, and found the tutorial very kinky. Once they got into the zero G bedroom, they found it impossible to perform without using the nylon straps and Velcro. The original James Bond movie "Moonraker" got it all wrong. Literally, they were bouncing off the walls and ceiling, but they were in a "novice" bedroom, and it was designed for such mishaps. After they were properly tethered, they had one of their best love-making sessions ever. For the first time since his injury, Jerry didn't have to worry about his bad leg. Of course, there was an attached zero G bathroom, but they passed on that and went back to their room in bathrobes when their time was up. Now they had something to look forward to during their future vacations here.
At the end of the week, she flew back to Earth, and Jerry began his inspection tour. He wanted to travel incognito, but RDA had to pay each ship he traveled on, so it was impossible to hide. Besides, the word about him was out on the space grapevine that seems to work faster than light. He knew if he flew on the passenger flights with the rich space tourists, or the primary cargo flights, he would see the best practices. The airline companies RDA hired to run those flights brought along their commercial aviation procedures. He stuck to the ore freighters. After his service experience, he knew the best information comes from the grunts, the little people in the organization, so he sought them out. He wasn't disappointed. The busiest facilities, Earth and Luna, already had full-time controllers around the clock, but needed training to make them more consistent and professional. The L2 and the Mars space stations were busy, but their controllers were only on duty when flights were scheduled. Any ship early or late might have to practically stop and wait for a controller. The outposts were practically self-service operations, they were so lax. They reminded Jerry of the early days of aviation, where the barnstormers had to buzz a field first to see if there was any traffic before landing. After landing without any communications at one outpost in the asteroid belt, the ship's captain sent his wife, the first mate, along with Jerry to find someone to work out the exchanges. The outpost had a party underway, and didn't keep anyone on duty even though the ship was scheduled for arrival. Such ineptitude could cause another disaster. That administrator heard from his RDA bosses after Jerry's daily email hit Earth. Jerry was glad to leave that outpost; everyone there was upset with his report, and he feared he might get "spaced" because of the hard feelings. After that outpost, he was greeted by every administrator as soon as his ship docked. The grapevine was working overtime.
During the trip, Jerry realized that his time with RDA could be very short if he didn't broaden his responsibilities. He made a point of looking at every aspect of the space transportation system. Once he returned, not only did he write the procedures and a training course for space traffic controllers, he also put together a series of recommendations. He wrote up the basic requirements for the identification equipment to go on all space ships, even private vehicles owned by the filthy rich. He advised building high-speed secure communications links with each RDA facility and the control center on Earth to prevent eavesdropping. He described the equipment needed at each facility, with redundancies and backup systems for failures and disasters like the one that led to his employment, and suggested where such equipment should be located at each site. He even sketched a rough floor plan of the operations center for construction in New Mexico. In it, he had the main command center, called the bridge, surrounded by a series of status and command posts, one for each major facility, called pits. Even though his charter was only for operations in the solar system, he had pits for both Alpha Centauri and the ISV traffic in this solar system. Clearly, the ISV traffic must be coordinated with all other traffic, but no one had suggested that before. The upshot for Jerry is that he was named manager of all space operations for RDA. He became the point man for all reforms RDA was implementing in the wake of the disaster. He also became the one person in RDA that has the big picture of what is happening in space.
It is his job to screen all non-routine communications, and inform his bosses when they needed to know about problems. Jerry is surprised that the top executives are coming here, instead of him flying to New York, but bad news is easier to hide here in the desert of New Mexico. There is enough traffic of executives between New York City and here that no one will think twice about a quick visit. He pulls into his reserved space in the executive parking lot, the only handicap slot, and limps into the back door on the way to Mister Winston's office. When he has time, he goes past the wood sprite in the plastic cube, but not today. Hell's Gate is the one major RDA facility he has not visited, and the wood sprite is as close as he will ever get to Pandora. His family comes first, and he won't give up the thirteen plus years it takes to make the trip.