An Engineer in Paradise

Things were back to normal: the recordings for the show had resumed; Blaine had gone home and she was back at the farm with her goats. She'd talked to her lover and he had agreed that a weekend at the cabin would be good.

The problem was that neither of them could decide on definite dates for the trip. It looked like they would be scrambling around one Friday evening, having realised there was nothing planned for that weekend, getting everything together; then drive up late and spend the weekend frantically trying to shop, fish and relax. Come Monday morning, they'd be back at work, wondering what had happened and wishing they had time for a break. No, she decided, this time would be different.

Smiling ruefully, she reviewed the latest idea from the production company. Concerned that the appeal of the Monty Hall challenge was waning, they wanted to add a sponsored phone-in question to improve the per show revenue levels. This week's question was something to do with ages...and she needed to rewrite it to fit the show's themes. Suddenly she smiled – it was obvious really.

The following day she walked into the studios, greeting Raoul with a cheery good morning. Her producer talked non-stop all way through make-up, bringing her up-to-date with all the gossip and news. Soon, she was meeting the contestants, smiling broadly to put them at their ease. The show followed its usual format, and after the first goat was revealed, she turned to the cameras and introduced the new segment.

"I'm glad Gemma has been found," she beamed at Camera 4, giving no hint that it wouldn't have mattered which goat had been revealed – nor that neither of the nanny goats were actually called Gemma.

"We have a question to ask you about Gemma," she continued, "And it forms the basis of our new phone-in competition."

"Gemma has three kids, and when you multiply their ages together, you get 36. When you add their ages together, you get the number of people who chose to swap their doors last month. The question you need to answer is: What are their ages?" She smiled at the camera for a couple of seconds.

"Just in case you're confused, I should mention that Gemma's youngest is a beautiful piebald billy-goat. Please phone in your answers on 0866 717222. The winner will be announced at the end of the next section of the program. And now for a word from our sponsors."

And it will be interesting to see how many of you work that one out, she thought.

Partially inspired by My Teachers's Three Kids

(c) ER Literary Productions

Blaine and Jarad faced each other. "Congratulations," said Jarad, "It's all over then."

"Not quite," replied Blaine, "The length of your exile has to be determined. We'll have to wait till your cork pops." He smiled wanly.

This seemed too much for Jarad to comprehend; Blaine wondered if the younger man had paid attention at the academy.

"So when does he come down?"

Blaine looked blankly at Jarad, who exclaimed, "The referee. When does he make his appearance?"

"When the competition is finished." Blaine was beginning to get irritated. "Look, I'll give you a tip: Go back to your area. Find a way to increase your temperature rise rate; the longer this takes, the longer you'll be in exile."

Jarad stared at him blankly. Blaine sighed. "Hadn't you worked that out? The time difference between the winner and loser determines the loser's exile duration."

About an hour later, another pop/bang shattered the stillness of the desert. At this signal, the referee stood up, stretched, and signalling to the two men, descended the steps of her watchtower. The men met her at the foot.

She directed them to the storage area, where she and Blaine had to prompt Jarad as between them they manoeuvred the capsule out into the open. With Jarad in his dazed state it was quite easy for the other two to get him suited, sit him in the capsule and to strap him in. consulting her notes, she programmed in the details, including the 78 minutes that had elapsed between Blaine's and Jarad's cork releases. Completing the security settings, she withdrew from the capsule and sealed it. She and Blaine returned to the Explorer.

As the sun sank below the horizon, the capsule came to life as it ran through the final checks. It seemed to shudder slightly, and shimmer in the starlight; then it didn't so much launch itself into the sky as, well, vanish. They looked at one another. They had both seen this happen before and still, despite everything, didn't fully understand how the translocation drive worked.

Blaine didn't ask about Jarad's destination, because he knew she didn't know. They only knew he would be spending 78 orbits of that planet in exile. After that...well, it wasn't clear to anyone outside the Council what happened next.

Jarad, on the other hand, now knew more about exile that his two erstwhile colleagues. After the initial, and obvious, start-up sequence, he wasn't entirely sure what had happened – but he did know that it left him dizzy, disorientated and nauseous. Having landed, two of those feelings were now fading. The third? Well he had 70-odd orbits in which to become orientated! He laughed bitterly at the joke – a joke well and truly on him.

It was night when he landed, as it had been when his journey started. He watched the sky through the porthole of the capsule. By leaning from one side to the other he could see there were two moons lighting the might. As the hours passed, he observed that one moon moved east to west and the other from west to east.

"That ought to narrow down which planet I'm on." He thought. He tried interrogating the on-board computer. It gave him a list of 473 planets charted in the translocation sphere around Earth known to have two moons moving in opposite directions. He stopped. What if they weren't moving in opposite directions? What if they were moving in the same direction, but at speed either side of the geostationary speed for the planet?

His new search showed there were 2476 planets with two moons, irrespective of their movement. Oh well, he thought, 78 orbits of observation, with a computer capable of calculating translocations – at least I'll now where I've been by the time I leave here!

Loosely based on Two Martian Moons

(c) ER Literary Productions

And so the time had come. Once again she put on her disguise; after the encounter on the train, she could never meet Jarad in her everyday appearance. He must never be allowed to find out with whom he had disported himself that night. The opportunity for blackmail was huge, and if Control ever found out...

She swallowed unsteadily. If that happened, there would be no stand-off showdown for her. She would suffer the ignominy of...No, she would allow her thoughts to run in that direction. Her disguise had been sufficient; he had not connected middle aged contact on the station with the young temptress on the train. And she would not have recognised him, had it not been for that cravat.

Checking her appearance in the mirror, she nodded regally at the staid society matron who looked back at her. She walked through to the integral garage of the rented house, checked over the equipment in the boot and then climbed into the Ford Explorer and set off for the hills.

Meanwhile, from two separate directions, Blaine and Jarad were also heading for the rendezvous. Both knew that this would be a contest of knowledge and skill rather than strength – but as yet, neither knew what tools they would be given or what task they would have to complete. Both were well aware, however, that this would be a fight to the end.

The adversaries arrived at the same time, several hours after their referee who had set up the equipment in readiness and retired to the watch tower. They would not meet until the matter was settled, indeed, they did not know who had been given the responsibility of this role.

In their respective work areas, Jarad and Blaine surveyed their challenge – a couple of obviously home-made heat exchange solar panels, some spare pipe, a small boiler and a tube with a cork wedged in it. They set about assembling their heater circuits, screened from one another by a bluff.

Blaine, she observed, was much further ahead with assembling the units. She wondered whether he had noticed that the panels were of unequal length. Jarad, by comparison, appeared not to have started. She watched him closely – he had noticed the difference between the panels and was calculating which order would be more beneficial, she realised suddenly. This was going to be interesting. She settled down under her sun-umbrella to watch as the two fit young men worked up a sweat in the Arizona sun.

She was glad of the umbrella and the solar-powered fridge freezer as the day passed and the sun rose towards its zenith. Or rather, as the Earth rotated so that the sun could be seen at its highest relative point, she corrected herself.

Glancing at the data logger readouts, she could see that Jarad's calculation time had seriously affected his system's performance. Starting his assembly phase so much later than Blaine meant that his deep ground water, which was pumped into the circuit only after the system had been fully assembled, was still at a much lower temperature than Blaine's. it was starting to look like Blaine would win the standoff. Or had Jarad spotted something during his calculations that would allow his to heat the water faster than Blaine?

Blaine, she noticed, was busy constructing something around his panels. She watched, and nearly applauded when she realised that he was constructing a "sun funnel" around the panels to direct more sunlight and heat energy towards them. Of course, they would also help shield the panels from the breeze and thus would lower the convective losses.

The day wore on and the temperatures rose; Blaine's water easily maintained and even increased its initial lead. The pressure in the tubes rose, Blaine's always slightly ahead of Jarad's. Slowly it climbed towards the top of the scale, until...

... with a sound somewhere between a pop and a bang, the cork flew out of Blaine's tube.

Jarad's instincts took over at this point; he dropped to a crouch, rolled under the cover of the bluff and reached for his gun...and brought his hand out empty as the men had been relieved of all their weapons on arrival at the site. When he heard the air horn, he made the connection and walked around the bluff to Blaine's area, his face ashen, unable to believe that he had been beaten.

Blaine stood calmly; he had seen the outcome of these competitions before and knew, as well as an observer can know, the fate of the loser. He knew also that one day it would be his turn, so he felt no need to humiliate his opponent further. He wondered if Jarad had anything more than nursery rhymes and playground stories to go on. Probably not, he decided. He smiled gently to himself.

Jarad had wasted so much time on his calculations that the order of the unmatched panels was irrelevant when you factored in the extra heating time Blaine had gained. Indeed, she smiled to herself, if the order had ever had any bearing on the case at all.

Lightly inspired by Solar Panels

© ER Literary Production 2007

After dinner, they walked out in the crisp autumn air, both ready to discuss what lay ahead. The moon was just rising: a full Hunter's Moon, tinged with orange but not dark enough to be called a blood moon. It looked enormous - or rather she thought, it looked as if it had decided that it wanted to visit its larger neighbour and was on its way over. It appeared to be not far from the trees.

"How long have you been here?" she asked, gazing fondly at the bronze disc sailing serenely between the trees.

"Several years now", he answered, "I think I'm settled into life here. I was beginning to think", he added thoughtfully, "that I'd never get the call."

"And now that you have, are you pleased it's come?"

Jared smiled. "How did you feel when it happened to you?"

For answer she just smiled and pulled a picture of Blaine from her handbag and handed it to Jared.

"This is him?"

She nodded and confirmed that Blaine was living on the East Coast. She hadn't contacted him since the the night of the burglary, although she did know that he had been released from custody. That last fact would make Jared's job easier. She wondered what car he was driving now that she had appropriated his Gremlin.

"So what do you advise? What are his weaknesses?" asked Jared.

"Oh no. No clues. This has to be all your own work. I'm only here to observe."

This was beginning to look like a poor choice by Control; if Jared didn't buck his ideas up, Blaine would defeat him in the standoff.

"OK. The rules are still the same as those I learnt during training?"

She nodded confirmation and gazed once more at the moon. Whilst they'd been talking it had risen to above the treetops, and while it still retained the orange hue, it seemed much smaller now - or further away she thought wistfully - and no longer worthy of the epithet Hunter's Moon. "Do you miss home?" she asked suddenly.

Jared smiled. "Not so much that I want to go back immediately", he replied, "Now, I need to go and prepare to meet Blaine."

They walked back to the hotel in silence, the moon appearing to follow them along the paths. The moonlight had a sharp crystal quality about it which bleached most of the colour from the scene. She wished she was at home with the goats; she felt much safer there. She really wasn't looking forward to the showdown; she remembered too many such scenes over the years, including Blaine's initiation. It was getting harder for her and she wondered if she should resign - or retire! As if. She thought of her lover in the apartment overlooking the sea. When this was over, she would suggest that they take some time off, trade in the Gremlin and go travelling - or - this was a better idea: they could head up to the cabin for a few weeks; they hadn't been there in quite some time. She knew some great tricks for catching bait without wasting water by pouring it over the ground; and her fire-lighting skills were second to none - provided she had a couple of beers (or beer cans at least!).

They parted at the lift and she sighed as she reached her room. Sliding her key-card in the "lock", she was halfway through the doorway before she felt the draught - from a window she had shut before leaving the room.

Partly inspired by the Moon Size question

She boarded the train in the middle of the afternoon, having taken a taxi from the TV studios directly to the station. her instructions has been delivered two days before, a full fortnight after the BB incident which prompted Control to first indicate that Blaine was not up to scratch. Now she was travelling halfway across the country to brief his replacement. Did, she wondered, this replacement understand the ramifications of replacing another operative in this organisation? Ah well, she mused, he soon would.

She was soon settled into her sleeping compartment. As usual, The Office had purchased all four berths to ensure she would not be disturbed or her cover compromised by other travellers. She smiled at her reflection in the well-polished mirror set into the vanity unit, her eyes sparkling mischievously. She doubted The Office, or more particularly Control, would be amused at the ways in which she planned to be "compromised" tonight! She had avoided detection of this activity by The Office up till now; she would continue with her precautions and all would be well. With that thought in mind, she gave herself a final once-over in the mirror and headed off to the dining car. And the hunt!

Next morning found her communing once more with her reflection. A good night, they concurred, most enjoyable. She had spied her quarry in the dining car, alone with his WSJ. His cravat had sealed the deal, she thought warmly as she recalled the fun they had had with that seemingly innocent piece of clothing. Smiling a broad and faintly secretive smile at her reflection, she put the previous evening's activities from her mind and set to work. Within minutes, she was unrecognisable as the willowy, cream-skinned redhead who had turned the heads of every man in the dining car. After quarter of an hour, she completed the transformation that ensured not one of them would give her a second glance on this new day. Quickly she packed her things into the small grip on the bed. Glancing round to ensure that nothing has been missed, she collected grip, handbag and coat in one hand and suitcase in the other. As she left the first class compartment, a porter spotted her and offered to help. She smiled sweetly at him and handed him the suitcase.

A few minutes later, she was standing on the busy concourse, suitcase at her feet, handbag on shoulder, coat over her arm and grip in hand. As she scanned the crowd for her contact, she toyed with the catches on the suitcase. The crowd thinned somewhat and she spotted him, slicked-back hair, tweed suit and...her eyes widened in horror as she recognised the cravat. His disguise was good, but he had main one major error. Mentally, she checked herself over - no she was wearing nothing that he had seen the night before. this would be a true test of her disguise - would he recognise her? Trust Control to put them on the same train for a meeting in the anonymous concourse!

She reached down for the suitcase, her fingers brushing the catches once more. "Here, let me," said the tall, well-built - and familiar - stranger. they walked along the concourse in silence, side by side. As they neared the end of their walk, she dropped a little behind him. They turned to walk out of the main doors...or at least he tried to turn right but was stopped by the seemingly magical reaction of the suitcase to being twisted about its vertical axis. For several seconds, as he fought with the wayward luggage, she thought he would fail the test. Then he stopped, put down the case and turned to her.

"How d'you switch off than darned gyroscope?" he asked, with a smile. Returning the smile, she brushed the catches.

"Well done," she whispered, "You've passed. Let's talk."

Partly inspired by the Spinning Wheel challenge.