Appartment of Blake Germaine

"I really must unpack."

Blake actually does unpack, taking a few hours positioning momentos, setting up a comfortable workspace around his terminal. He spends the rest of the evening reading technical manuals, ready to tackle the main problem tomorrow.

Good afternoon Blake, you have an incoming message from Major Ascott. At least M4RC0-P010's voice was back to normal. A tad metallic still, but that was the programming. Something Blake could easily change if needed. The message was relayed instantly.

"Staff sergeant Germaine, Major Ascott here. If at all possible, could you make me a simulation of our course with engine three giving us a thrust diversion of 4 degrees port. Let us assume the problem started after leaving Alpha Centauri. If possible make different path possibilities taking into account the problem could have begun any time later than that. We need to know where we are, and Marco can only give us a rough system estimate. We could either be a week away from some planets, or three years. Captain needs to know in more detail if possible. Thank you."

A thrust diversion? Engine three four degrees? That would put a spin on our course, we might be anywhere. Blake sets up the problem in simlanguage, keyed for graphical output.

Running several of his patented sim programs Blake gets more and more annoyed with each finished program. Calculating divergence, thrust, deviation, it all makes the possible area bigger instead of smaller, and without actual knowledge of when exactly the debris hit the engine, there is just no way to be sure where in the system they are.

Running some more programs, double checking calculations and cursing loudly at times Blake quickly realises that even with his expertise, there is just no possible solution to the problem. Only a decent navigational computer with at least three known location points can triangulate the location with any certainty.

"Well, I guess I'm just going to have to tell them."
Blake places a message to Major Ascot.

"Good evening Sir, I've hit a snag. There seems to be no way to calculate our present position by dead reckoning. Each simulation generates a wide possible volume for the Marco Polo's position. The probability of location varies with the assumptions made, but no set of assumptions is really justifiably better than the others. I'd suggest the ship's instruments would be a better bet. Even if we've travelled over a hundred light years in one direction, the pulsars should still be recognisable. In fact, their frequency would be extremely predictable from the current calendar."

Ascott replies quickly.
"Understood Sergeant. Bridge had no idea either, so I was hoping you did. Captain will just have to take a gamble i'd say. Would you be able to make a better assumption from the bridge? If so, feel free to use the ship's navigational computers. The crew on the bridge knows you are allowed up there."

Blake spends the next couple of hours setting up a simulation of of pulsar rotation decay for known pulsars near earth. What we're looking for is at least two, but really three, pulsars where the pulsar radio beam passes over both earth (so they're known) and Marco's current position. After doing some calculations using the ship's internal copy of "scientific pedia", he realises that the width of even distant pulsar beams is generally less than a light year, and abandon's this approach.

The next trick is to examine which direction the ship is pointing in. Initially, we can use galaxies to determine this, as they will be essentially unmoved by a hundred light years or so of travel. For this, Blake will have to shift to the bridge.

(To the bridge).

Blake receives Micaela's message, and thinks on it for a few minutes. "Marco, could you take a reply to Micaela?"

Blake turns in for the night.

Just barely drifting off into a restless sleep Blake is suddenly woken up by his computer system giving off a loud ping.
It seems his systems have finally figured out exactly where they are.
As it turns out the Polo has not drifted along for 100 years after all. Rather they have been veering off to the left and off course for a long time, about 35 years, and have ended up in a system marked Kepler-Waldberg 117, just 60 lightyears from Alpha Centauri. Still a lifetime away, but not nearly as bad as expected.
Whats even better, the nearest system with planets is just a week away at maximum speed. System Kepler-Waldberg 118 contains a regular sized sun, and 16 planets. According to the data five of these orbit the sun in the so-called life-zone, far enough away not to burn, but close enough not to freeze. Each of these five might be able to sustain life after terraforming.

Blake gets out of bed, still tasting the toothpaste. Thinking about it, he changes back into uniform before placing a message with Marco. "Marco, could you inform the senior staff of our location in space, and give the same brief overview if the nearest system that was just shown to me."

Information trensferred Blake. The captain thanks you.

After waiting half an hour to see if he's going to have to present to anyone, Blake goes back to bed.

"Another beautiful day in the core". Blake chuckles to himself, and puts on fresh clothes. Another uniform day. Blake exits his quarters for the barracks mess hall, in plenty of time for today's shift.