by Richard Fox
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Warrant Officer Katherine Carson held a yellow and black handle attached to the side of the Mule’s open cargo bay as the ship banked to one side. Her mag-locked boots kept her secured to the deck, but she almost lost her grip during the maneuver. It had been a long time since she’d been in the void, and it would take some time for her sea legs to come back. Below, distant Earth came into view, the planet’s blue oceans, white clouds, and green land brilliant and clear.
Goodbyes don’t get much better than this, Carson told herself. She smiled and squeezed her other hand into a fist. After years of waiting for a chance to escape her cubicle in the Camelback Mountain military headquarters, today had been her day. A colony mission, and not just any colony: the last ticket to Terra Nova.
An alert chimed and a communications request came through on her helmet’s heads-up display: the Mule pilot.
“Carson, go,” she said.
“Chief, our flightpath is still green, but we are down to the wire here,” the pilot said.
Carson leaned out of the opening and looked to the right. The Ajax, a massive foundry ship, came into view.
“What wire? We’re almost there.” Carson sucked air through her teeth. The mission clock on her HUD was ticking down, and the Mule hadn’t even begun its braking maneuver yet…
“I’ve got five minutes to land, disembark you and your gear, then launch and get clear before the wormhole forms,” the pilot said. “I know you’re excited about this Terra whatever place, but I am getting short and I want to live on a colony I’ve actually visited before. And liked. Same with my crew. We are cutting it too close. I’m scrubbing this mission.”
“No! Wait, wait…” Carson pulled telemetry data from the Mule and put it up on her HUD. “I don’t care about my gear. You don’t…” She did some quick calculations in her head. “Heck, you don’t even have to land. Can you do a slingshot?”
“You’re insane,” the pilot said.
“If you were a mediocre pilot, I’d be suicidal,” Carson said. “But since you’ve been in for so long, I bet you can do the maneuver. Easy. Yes?”
“I need clearance,” he said. Carson could almost feel the pilot rolling his eyes over the channel. Unlocking her boots, she went to a storage locker, pulled out a jet pack and slipped her arms into the straps. The pack tightened against her shoulders and she took out two hand thrusters. Both gave off a spritz of propellant as she pulled the triggers.
“Carson?” A woman’s voice came through her helmet. “This is Hale. A slingshot dock—at the velocity you’re moving—is at the very edge of what’s survivable. Theoretically survivable.”
“I am aware of the risks, ma’am,” Carson said. “But the Enduring Spirit is at a standstill. This’ll be easy.” Carson hurried back to her spot at the edge of the open cargo bay and locked her boots to the deck.
This will not be easy, she thought. At all.
“You’ve done a slingshot insertion before?” Marie Hale asked.
“Yes, ma’am!” Carson crouched slightly and checked the charge on her jump pack. She didn’t bother to add that she’d done the maneuver only once before…in training.
“Abort if you come in too hot,” Marie said. “Rather have you flying Dutchman for the Crucible to pick up after we leave than a smudge on my hull. Understand me, Pathfinder?”
“Loud and clear,” Carson said.
Carson bit her lip. The fact that it had been Marie Hale and not Director Hale on the line unnerved her slightly. She’d assumed after she’d been cleared to join the mission that Hale, the founder and first commander of the Pathfinder Corps, had finally forgiven her for what happened aboard the Belisarius—or at least finally looked past it. When she’d seen the orders and a Hale had signed off on them, she’d assumed it’d been Ken, but now she realized it could’ve easily been Marie Hale.
Ken Hale’s words from her court-martial echoed in her mind. “Your reckless behavior has cost the Pathfinder Corps greatly and you have put a black mark on this great organization, one that won’t be forgotten quickly. My only hope is that someday you will have the opportunity to redeem yourself.”
Later, she told herself. You can deal with that later.
Carson punched up another number on her display. The range between the Mule and the colony ship was just over three kilometers. She did some quick math in her head and then switched her suit’s IR over to the Mule’s channel.
“You guys sure you don’t want to come along?”
“Lady, it’s bad enough we got shanghaied into this in the first place,” the pilot said. “If you think we’re going with you, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“Just point me in the right direction,” Carson said. “I’ve got this. I’ve definitely got this.” A tinge of fear that ran down her spine and into her knees told her otherwise.
The pilot let out a sigh. “This is insane. Hold on.”
The star field outside the Mule swam as the ship flipped over and the massive blocky structure of the Enduring Spirit came into view. A small—very small—shuttle bay was open on its wide flank. At this distance, she could just make out the rows of transports and service vessels arrayed in orderly rows on either side of a long strip of open deck. Her mind told her the runway was at least thirty feet across, but her eyes told a different story. If she was off by just a few feet…
“Slingshot on my mark,” the pilot said. “What about your stuff?”
Carson eyed the crates strapped to the deck, her name stenciled along the side of each. Her entire life packaged into three boxes. Was there anything inside worth missing the trip to Terra Nova?
“Well, they did tell me to pack light,” she said. “It’s all yours.”
“Are all Pathfinders as crazy as you?” the pilot asked.
“Mostly.”
“Good to know. Hang on back there, release in thirty seconds,” the pilot said.
Carson began her breathing exercise to slow her heart rate, but despite years of using the technique, her heart pounded in her chest. She was no stranger to EVA, but working through the vector dynamics of depositing an object with an impressive amount of momentum onto a stationary landing pad was above and beyond the normal call of Pathfinder duty. Especially when she was the moving object and the slightest miscalculations would end her trip as a smudge against the Spirit’s hull.
“Fifteen seconds.”
“Do I need to remind you to use your anti-grav thrusters?” Carson asked. “Rather not get cooked when you punch off.”
“Oops,” the pilot muttered. The sound of switches clicking did not fill her with confidence.
She crouched down, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to do. Everything but Enduring Spirit’s open hangar bay faded into an unfocused haze. Either way, this stunt would put her name in the books, whether as an outstanding feat of bravery or a cautionary tale was yet to be determined.
“Okay, reverse thrust on my mark. Three…two…”
Carson unlocked her mag boots.
“One.”
Carson activated her jet pack and went flying into the void.
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Check out the entire Terra Nova series!