Saturn Run (The Planetary Trilogy Book 1)

by Stanley Salmons

  Dan rose, saluted, and walked out. He was far from satisfied with the result. Putting the Fleet-Admiral in charge of the inquiry was like asking a wolf to conduct an impartial investigation into sheep-stealing. Still, he had taken it as far as he could, and much further than anyone in his right mind would have done.

  *

  He never learned the result of Fleet-Admiral Stott’s inquiry – if indeed such an inquiry ever took place. Karl Stott’s hatred of him was now implacable, which didn’t concern him in the slightest, and he had antagonized the entire Board of the Academy, which should have concerned him a great deal.

  In a matter of a few weeks Dan Larssen had gone from star student to a subversive young rebel who needed to be watched closely. Senior people had begun to ask privately whether a mistake had not been made in awarding a Fynnon Scholarship to someone of that background, and whether such a person could ever understand the values the Academy stood for. As an exercise in going backwards it was a remarkable achievement.

  12

  Dan Larssen was the first cadet in his year to qualify on craft with every type of propulsion system. The one exception was the plasma engine, which was used exclusively for interplanetary travel; he’d flown it in simulators, but not for real. Whatever happened to him now, he was a licensed pilot. He worked harder than ever, sensing that they were still watching him, awaiting their opportunity, but it was inevitable that he’d run into trouble again.

  The Academy put a lot of store by the course called “Management and Leadership Skills”. There was a strong element of self-interest in this policy. They expected some of their graduates to progress to major managerial and political positions later in their careers and having alumni in these key positions wasn’t just good for the standing of the Academy; it also gave the Academy an effective voice in government, and enhanced its capacity for securing increased appropriations from Washington.

  The cadets were divided into teams and given problems to solve. Their task was to come up with a novel solution and agree on a collective approach. To make things more realistic they were assigned roles and ranks and they were supposed to observe them throughout the exercise. The idea was to build team spirit and cooperation – the kind of thing a space crew or the spearhead of a new planetary colonization would need. Whether it was by accident or malign intent, Bunny, Neraya and Dan were assigned to a team that would be led by Karl Stott.

  The team started off by working in twos and threes, batting the problem around. Dan had already come up with a number of ideas and he felt he’d worked out a pretty fair strategy when suddenly Stott silenced their discussion.

  “Okay,” he said. “This is how we’ll do it.” And he proceeded to outline his plan and to assign tasks to the members of the team. He was clearly relishing his position as team captain. Unfortunately his strategic thinking was sadly lacking and the only obvious thing about this plan was how totally wrong-headed it was.

  Knowing Stott’s sensitivities Dan kept his mode of address formal and his tone neutral. “If I may, Captain,” he started. “I think it might pay off to use a less direct approach here—”

  Stott cut him off.

  “Larssen,” he said. “I don’t think you heard me. I’ve already outlined what we’re going to do.”

  Even for Stott this was staggeringly high-handed. Dan felt the old anger rising again. The conventions went out of the window and he couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

  “Excuse me, Stott. Wasn’t there just a little something in there about team building, cooperation, joint ownership of ideas – you know, that sort of thing?”

  Stott’s eyes flashed. “I’ve been entrusted with the leadership of this group, Larssen, not you. I know that’s hard for you to accept but that’s the way it is. Leadership is about making decisions and taking responsibility for them. That is precisely what I am doing and I don’t have to justify my actions to you.”

  The others were watching the two of them, their eyes going back and forth with the exchange as if it were a tennis match.

  “Leadership?” Dan slammed his papers onto the table. “Are you serious? You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

  Stott was beside himself. “I’ll tell you what’s serious, Larssen. You’re being seriously disruptive, that’s what. I’m warning you. You know the rules. I’m empowered to report you for insubordination.”

  “Oh go on then, our glorious leader. Report me.” Then to no one in particular he added “This is a total farce” and walked out. He missed the look of satisfaction on Stott’s face.

  Dan expected repercussions, of course, but since Stott’s behaviour was in such outrageous contradiction to everything they’d been taught he wasn’t anticipating anything more than a mild admonition. He was politically naïve. When he was summoned to the Principal’s Office his marching orders were already on the desk.

  “Larssen, there is little doubt that you are a talented individual but ability is not enough in this Academy. We are looking to train people who can carry responsibility, and that means not just the ability to give orders but also the ability to take them. You have proved yourself to be a seriously disruptive influence and I am not prepared to tolerate your presence in this establishment any longer. You will leave immediately. The diplomas and certificates you have earned in your training up to this point are in this envelope. They will not be revoked. But you will not be allowed to undergo further training.”

  A cold wave of shock swept through Dan’s whole body, leaving his skin prickling in its wake. He was being thrown out. He was so stunned he could only blink. Then the blood rushed to his head.

  “This isn’t about walking out of a discussion group, is it, Dr Taylor? Admiral Stott is behind this, isn’t he? You’ve just grabbed the first opportunity—"

  “That’s enough, Larssen! That’s quite enough! I will not discuss this further with you. You will never rise to the highest echelons of this service, but even if you leave the Academy now you will take with you first class qualifications and experience sufficient to get yourself a good job. That’s not a bad deal, Larssen. I suggest you accept it before I think again about revoking your licences.”

  Dan swallowed hard. The pilot’s licences were now all he had. They were recognized in every country on Earth and wherever else man set foot. He’d worked desperately hard to get them and they were his passport. He wasn’t sure if Taylor had the authority to revoke them but neither did he want to find out the hard way. This time the cards were stacked against him. He snatched the envelope off the desk and stormed out of the office.

  *

  He didn’t spend long on goodbyes. Most of the cadets were sorry to see him go. A few were embarrassed to be seen talking to him at all and gave him a perfunctory handshake. Neraya and Bunny stayed with him to the last, and finally it was time for him to say goodbye to them, too.

  Neraya was brimming with indignation. “I cannot believe this is happening, Danny,” she said.

  “We tried, Danny, we tried,” Bunny moaned, giving Dan a sad little hug.

  “What do you mean, ‘you tried’?”

  She stood back, biting her lip as if she’d said more than she meant to. “We went to Taylor, Neraya and me. We asked him to reinstate you. We told him you were completely right in that group. It was a farce and you were the only one who had the courage to say so. But it was like talking to a brick wall. He said he’d noted our attitude. He said he’d overlook it on this occasion but we weren’t to question his actions or get involved in things that didn’t concern us – if we wanted to finish the course. He threatened us, Danny!”

  “Oh, Neraya, Bunny, I really appreciate what you did but you shouldn’t have put your own careers on the line like that.”

  Neraya shook her head from side to side. “It is so unfair.”

  “Of course it’s unfair but the writing was already on the wall for me. All these people needed was a pretext and one’s as good as another. It would have happened sooner or later.”<
br />
  “I will resign in protest!”

  “Neraya, now is that sensible? You know you have a great career in front of you. Academically you’re far and away the best in the year. Don’t spoil it all on my account, I couldn’t live with that. Come on, it’s over. I’ll be all right. I’ll find something, you’ll see. We’ll still be friends.” He gave her a wan smile. “We’ll always be friends.”

  She looked at him for a moment with those dark, lustrous eyes and then flung her arms about his neck. He held her close. He felt her quaking under his hands and knew she was crying but what topped his senses was how wonderfully right her body felt, pressed up against him. He wanted the moment to last for ever. Of course it couldn’t. They separated to arms’ length, holding each other’s fingertips, looking at each other. His insides were in turmoil. These emotions were totally new to him and he didn’t know how to interpret them. Part of him desperately wanted to kiss her, but another part was terrified of mistaking her loyalty for something deeper and ruining everything between them. And while he was still teetering in a state of indecision the moment passed. They drew apart, and she left quickly.

  13

  He moved into the town. He hadn’t formulated any definite plan but he knew his first priority had to be to find himself a job.

  I’ll fly passengers, international routes, tropospheric or stratospheric – I’d be all right with that. I’ll apply to one of the big aerospace lines. How hard can it be? I’m presentable, my health’s good, I have type ratings for virtually anything that can fly, my licences are all Grade A, and I have two gold awards and the Silver Baton for practical flying skills.

  That plan went straight out of the window the moment he started to look at what was available. They wanted thousands more flight hours than he’d been able to accumulate at the Academy. He started to look at temporary jobs, transporting cargo for small regional airlines. That was better: he got a job at the third interview. They weren’t too interested in why he’d left the Academy; they were concerned about his lack of experience. His record balanced that out. He only did three trips for them but he was happy enough to add them to his flying hours. After that he started to get other jobs by recommendation. It was mostly short-haul freight but there was one executive charter, and he flew some shuttles to docking stations in Earth orbit. All of it was well within his abilities and all of it went into his flight log.

  It was best when he was flying; there was plenty to do, plenty to keep his mind occupied. Between jobs he felt low. He’d underestimated the deviousness and vindictiveness of people in power, and he’d been completely outmanoeuvred. He found himself wondering what the other cadets in his class were doing at this moment. Whatever it was, they would graduate from the Academy and he would not.

  His thoughts were never far away from Neraya. Beautiful, loyal Neraya. She was bound to have a successful career. That made him happy for her but it wrenched at his guts because it meant that their paths must diverge. He would fly but she would be in a far higher orbit. He could only disappoint her now. It surprised him how much that hurt.

  Stott, who had not a fraction of his ability, would no doubt rise to a position of influence, while he would flog away – if he was lucky – as a pilot.

  What exactly is your beef? Look where you came from and look at the world you inhabit now! A few years ago the best you could have hoped for was to scrape a living out of the dirt for the rest of your life. To be a pilot would have been beyond your wildest dreams. Okay, so you didn’t finish the course – so what? You love flying. Fly, and let that be enough for you.

  It should have been but somehow it wasn’t. The black feelings would claim him again. He felt discarded, worthless.

  Freelance work came in, but it was sporadic. At this rate it would take for ever to scrape up enough flying hours for a more permanent job. He started to look at line training schemes. An agency would place him with a small company and he would fly as a First Officer. He would have limited responsibility but he would accumulate flying hours more quickly and on the types of craft he wanted to fly. There was, however, one big problem about these schemes: a large agency fee, payable up front. He started to save, putting by nearly everything he earned.

  Irregular though the work was, over the course of the next year he began to get a good reputation. When someone wanted a pilot for a one-off job or to deputize for a pilot who was ill they would make enquiries and his name would be mentioned. That was how he came to meet Mikhael Rostov.

  He sensed there was something different about this job, especially when Rostov told him what it paid. Rostov was overweight and wore a lot of jewellery, and there were a lot of very good-looking girls around his establishment. Dan didn’t know what he was being asked to transport but he couldn’t help but wonder. He tried to push it a bit and got nowhere.

  “Look,” Rostov said. “I run a complicated operation. It takes a lot of pilots, some have to be here, some have to be there. That’s why I need you. But your part is routine. You go to Mars as a passenger on the regular Spaceliner. I tell you where to go and someone puts you in a shuttle and takes you up to the freightliner. It’s a small freightliner, a B-class, you have no problem flying it. You come back to Earth and you dock in orbit where I tell you. Your assignment finishes there. Someone else takes over the freightliner. You come back on one of my shuttles. That is all. I give you half now and half on delivery.”

  “Mr Rostov, I don’t want to seem ungrateful but you’re paying a good deal more than the going rate. Why’s that?”

  Rostov tapped his nose. “Discretion. I pay for your discretion. This is a commercially sensitive operation. I don’t want rival companies to know what we are doing. You fly your ship, you ask no questions, you give no answers, we get along fine.”

  “Look, the cargo itself is of no real interest to me. My prime concern is my safety and the safety of the ship. As a pilot, normally I’d know what I’m carrying but I accept that you have special reasons for not telling me. Can you at least assure me that the cargo isn’t potentially dangerous?”

  “Dan, Dan, there is no danger, I assure you.” He flashed a big smile, revealing the diamond inlays in his teeth. “It’s a routine trip.”

  Dan looked at the wad of notes he’d been handed. That clinched it. He had to take the chance; two or three trips like this would put him within reach of the agency fee he’d been working so hard for.

  When he got back to his cheap lodgings he put the flight manuals for the B-class spacefreighter in his reader. He’d intended to refresh his memory, but he couldn’t sit still. Every few minutes he’d get up and pace excitedly around the room.

  I’ll be making a trip to Mars and back!

  He had a strong temptation to contact Neraya, and excitement built inside him as he thought about telling her, hearing her voice. Then it collapsed. They hadn’t seen each other since he left – just over a year ago – and they’d certainly want to meet up. But so long as she was at the Academy it wouldn’t be good for her to be seen with him. Karl Stott or his father or Colin Taylor might get to hear of it and bring pressure to bear on her. She was sure to kick against it. He’d never forgive himself if he jeopardized her career through a selfish desire to see her again.

  It was the only cloud on his horizon. For the first time since he’d been thrown out of the Academy, he felt buoyant and filled with hope.

  At last something positive was happening in his life.

  14

  The departure date couldn’t come soon enough for him. When at last the time arrived he reported to the Armstrong Shuttle Terminal far too early and waited impatiently to be taken up. There was nothing new about the lift-off or the insertion into orbit but he craned at the small porthole to get a glimpse of the spaceliner. At first he could see nothing but a sea of stars. As they began the final approach two objects floated into view. One was the Orbital Dock, the usual assemblage of boxy structures, arms, solar panels, and dish antennas. Beyond it, shining in the lights of the D
ock, was a flattened silver cylinder terminating in what looked like wings. He recognized the type instantly.

  The passenger next to him was also trying to see, so he leaned back to give the man a better look.

  “Thanks. What is it?”

  “An S-13.”

  The man nodded. “You made this trip before?”

  “No, never.”

  “Me neither. That damned thing’s got wings. What’s the point?”

  Dan’s memories of the course came flooding back.

  “They only look like wings. Actually they’re pylons to carry the propulsion units. The nacelles in the centre are the main engines. Four plasmas on this craft; small by today’s standards. They locate them close to the airframe to minimize the acceleration stresses. The pods at the tips are the auxiliary chemical units; they’re mainly for manoeuvring.”

  He caught the man’s curious expression.

  “Sorry,” Dan said, with a grin. “That’s probably more than you wanted to know.”

  They were now close enough to the Orbital Dock for its lights to rove through the cabin, sending dark shadows racing across the interior. Then the ship shuddered. The announcement came that they were docked. Passengers were requested to prepare for transfer.

  The shuttle discharged the passengers through the forward airlock into the central reception area of the Orbital Dock. Space here was limited, so as soon as one airlock closed, another on the opposite wall opened. Holding both handrails, they made their way into the spaceliner moored alongside. There was a certain amount of confusion but as each passenger floated to their approximate position the crew would activate a robotic arm, which extended straps and drew them into their seats.