[center][h2]History Lesson 5 - “A Matter of Degree”[/h2][/center] OOC: This episode will include a few interspersed history briefs to set the stage for China Doll’s adventures at Asteroid AN-3872. [b]137L. 309V.[/b] 2188, January 19: Though his report and calculations proving the deviation in Gossamer’s course had been delivered in supposed confidentiality, Professor Julius Berghauer soon found himself scapegoated, the center of a firestorm of hysteria in the aftermath of the document being leaked onto the ship’s public cortex. Just as public was the carefully orchestrated campaign to discredit the man himself. The Gossamer’s Chief Engineer swore to the reliability and regular maintenance of the ship’s navigational systems. A hastily assembled panel of “peers” was called together to analyze Berghauer’s findings, though to anyone present in the hearing room it became apparent that their mission was clear from the start. After four hours of ridicule, character assassination and particular innuendo guessing at the academic’s amorous proclivities and precious little discussion of mathematics or astrophysics, the august members of the panel declared Berghauer’s work to be bunk, and the man himself nothing more than an attention seeking fraud. He was immediately handed to Disciplinary Services who, owing to the incendiary nature of the report, judged him a dissident and handed down a sentence of immediate reclamation. The professor’s reclamation was broadcast via the ship’s cortex network. A hush fell over the entire vessel as thousands watched the security camera’s grainy image. Through her tears, fifteen year old Shaniqua Tyler watched as her mentor allowed two guards to lead him toward the chamber. He seemed so small, so frail, she thought, sobbing to herself for the two truths that she knew he carried to his death. One was known, yet denied by those in power. The other? That would be her terrible burden to bear alone. He did not cry, nor bargain for his life. There was no raised fist, no defiant epithet. Julius Berghauer met his death with a quiet nod to his executioner before taking that final step into the reclamation chamber. The resulting outcry was short lived. A few protest rallies were held, difficult affairs in the closed confines of a modified vessel packed with passengers and precious supplies. Equally difficult and also quickly abandoned was a graffiti campaign that sputtered due to a severe lack of available spray paint. [b]137L. 309V.[/b] Life settled into its’ norm. C/V Gossamer held her ages old course. The society within had managed to more or less retain its’ basic order., with few notable aberrations along their journey. The year was now 2196. April, the month of Shaniqua Tyler’s birth. She was twenty-three. Though she’d continued to show promise in astrophysics, the urgings of her mother had eventually won the day. Now, here she was, outside the hull in a mech assist suit, welding a repair plate over a particularly harsh meteor strike, one of a host suffered when the great ship flew through a veritable torrent of stone. As maint jobs went, she was down for anything that got her outside…away from people. Just her, the blue light, and the bead… “Dispatch to Tyler.” Beatriz’s voice in her helmet com. “What’s your status?” Shaniqua keyed her mic without ceasing the weld. “About two ticks shy of finishing the outer seal over Hydroponics Three,” she answered. “You can get the interior team to seal and pressure test any time now.” “Copy that,” the dispatcher replied. “Go to Three.” Shaniqua knew that “go the three” was Beatriz’s code for “go the channel twenty-seven,” her own personal gossip hang out. “Ten-four,” she acknowledged, anything but enthusiastic to hear the latest buzz concerning who dissed who, or who was getting laid…since she knew without a doubt that neither of those boxes could be checked off in her regard. After taking the time to properly complete the weld, she switched her com. “Jay-sus, girl, make me wait, why doncha?” Beatiiz demanded. “Sorry,” Shaniqua replied as she shut down the welder. “What’s up?” “Ooh, hermanita,” her friend swept into the news of the day, “Category five shit storm going on right now. We’re off course.” Shaniqua froze. “Say that again?” “We’re off course!” Beatriz exclaimed. “Bridge crew’s calling bullshit and pointing fingers at Nav. Nav’s swearing up and down they’re on target and it’s an Engineering fuckup. Engineering says everybody’s stupid…total circular firing squad right now, chica!...Shaniqua? You copy?” “I copy,” she replied, moving across the outer hull as quickly as the mechanized exoskeletal suit would take her. “I’m coming in.” Once she’d put the suit into its’ charge station, Shaniqua hurried into the main Engineering lounge. Here could be found displays in their hundreds, all the numbers, graphs, and metered readings relative to the life of the massive ship to be found in this single location. While overwhelming to the layman, Gossamer’s engineers and maintenance staff found the space a valuable location to meet and discuss their disciplines without losing sight of key functions. And there, atop all the myriad readouts and indications, Gossamer’s course heading stood out in bold, red LED. [b]138L. 310V.[/b] “Fuck me,” she mouthed the words silently. Off by one degree lateral and vertical. She stared, slack jawed, at the alien numbers. “Gotta be bullshit.” Rhodes had just come in from outside. “Anyway, it’s just one degree. That’s nothing…right?” He cast a nervous, sidelong glance toward her. Shaniqua folded her arms. All those years ago, when a schoolgirl couldn’t make sense of what she was measuring through a viewport, she had taken her problem to the smartest academic who’d deign to speak with her. That man had not only been patient and kind. He’d embraced the problem, discovered its’ validity. And, beyond the reasoning of the child who had first puzzled over why the stars didn’t align properly, he alone had come to understand the potentially fatal flaw at the very heart of C/V Gossamer’s journey. “It’s something,” Shaniqua finally offered. “It’s something.” <>