Weight of Gravity

by Sheron Wood McCartha

  Next to him, Garrett muttered, “Anyone want to bet those Ching T’Karre pilots can’t buckle their own seat belt.”

  Lucas leaned over. “Oh, they most likely figured that out, they just don’t know which way to point the frigging ship.”

  “Skyward,” crowed Jet. “If you’re launching land to space, then you head up. Simple, stupid.”

  “So smart, Jetpack,” shouted a voice.

  “Hey, not my name,” she replied, turning around and adding a rude gesture. “It’s just Jet.”

  “Heard your last name was Pacque. Says Jetpack to me. Name’s getting around.”

  From the back of the room, Captain Longstaff shouted, “All right, pipe down folks and pay attention. I want to hear the countdown.”

  Quiet settled over the group. Deane watched the ship as it launched piggyback on a booster rocket. He set a timer to learn how long it would take to reach the target.

  But he needn’t have bothered. The separation proceeded smoothly, the rocket dropped away, the ship fired, and sputtered. Side jets coughed, but the craft was not accelerating properly.

  Every cadet in the room rose to his or her feet and crowded toward the live vid screen.

  “They’ve lost power,” someone said.

  “They can’t maneuver,” added a second voice.

  Deane caught Garrett’s arm. “They’re drifting.”

  Garrett’s eyes widened. “The test failed.”

  “At least they’re alive this time,” he concluded.

  “May yet die from embarrassment,” offered Jet.

  At that moment, the door opened and in stepped Captain Elise Fujeint-Steele. “Deane, Garrett, Jet, Lucas and Harry, come with me now.”

  “Hey, what’s up?” asked Mike from the Green Team. That’s your whole crew.”

  Deane shrugged. “Fate, if I know.”

  He tore them away from the horror show and herded his crew out the door, following Commander Steele.

  ***

  Several hours later Deane was buckling himself into a seat on a shuttle heading for Earth2. Excitement thrummed through him. This could be it.

  “Didn’t see this coming,” Jet muttered.

  “Your mystery source missed it?” Lucas taunted.

  Captain Spencer twisted around from a front seat with a scowl. “We’ve got reporters in the back folks, so be careful what you say.”

  Lucas faced Deane. “Watch what I say? I know nothing worth saying. I live in eternal ignorance.”

  Deane leaned forward. “You said it, not me.”

  Lucas glared.

  Deane continued, “My guess is there’s a top secret prototype on the station. Bet we’re going to fly it.”

  “After all the recent failures, I’m a little uncomfortable with that idea,” Garrett admitted.

  “Aren’t we all,” said Harry, flexing his fists and rolling his shoulders. He tapped fingers on the arm of the chair, his eyes darting about.

  “Stop that,” Jet grumbled. “You’re making me crazy.”

  “Can’t,” he muttered. “Too late. You already are.”

  "Ha!"

  Eventually, they landed on a temporary docking platform outside of Earth2’s shuttlebay. The reporters and vid operators were ushered out the back door of the shuttle, but a few managed to yell comments over their shoulders.

  One skinny dude shouted, “Got your insurance policies all I paid up, I hope.”

  Angrily chiding them, security herded the reporters out into an airlock tunnel which fed into the space station’s main entrance. Abruptly, the shuttle became quiet.

  Garrett exchanged looks with Deane who patted him on the arm. “We trained for a long time for this opportunity, so let’s go show them what we can do.”

  Jet popped up from behind. “Yeah, let’s go get it done.”

  ***

  They clustered together in a small room, adjoining the cramped shuttlebay. Nervous sweat glistened on Deane’s forehead and clung uncomfortably to his armpits. He and his crew had just endured another complete physical. Familiar spacesuits were put on with a few adjustments and additions. Now, Captain Spencer provided a final launch brief, adding in the comment, “Don’t worry, there’s a checklist at each station.”

  Captain Fujeint-Steele added, “The simulator is modeled on the prototype, so follow established training procedures. Everything should feel familiar. You ranked top over all other teams, so I expect success here.”

  Richard walked in with a smile. “Amazing how important politicos, reporters, and crews managed to arrive unexpectedly in shuttles. Word’s gotten out. Well, your audience is getting restless. Time to go.” He shook each hand. “Good luck. Go show them what you can do.”

  “Yes, sir.” They picked up their helmets, excited to be out of the ready room and moving. When they entered the shuttlebay, a starship of explosive power awaited them. They recognized the outline of the same ship that they had discovered some time ago. Various ports had been added which hinted at state-of-the-art combat weapons. They all stared, slack-jawed.

  Led by Harry, one by one, they crammed into the cockpit, finding their assigned station. As they strapped in, Captain Spencer surveyed the setup. “It’s much more compact than the Hope’s bridge, but this ship can really move. Deadly, too.” He patted Deane’s shoulder. “Stay alert, treat her right, and she’ll perform.” He eased out, leaving them very much alone.

  Deane stared at numbers and grid lines scrolling across several monitors, momentarily hypnotized, but then he shook himself, blinked, and announced loudly, “Well, crew, this is it. Strap in tight and fasten your helmets.”

  “Helmets secure,” came back the automatic response from each one as they secured helmets.

  Hopefully, their trained responses would kick in, the hours spent in sim becoming automatic reactions.

  Numbers flashed, and lines intersected on Garrett’s screen, as he built a course.

  A voice in Deane’s helmet said, “Take a deep breath, Captain Wood. Your heart rate’s elevated.”

  He inhaled to steady himself as he realized this was really going to happen at last. No pretend sim run this time. The reality made him dizzy.

  “Controls to you.” A bass voice informed them.

  That got his hands shaking. He stared as all the electronics came on with blinking lights and active screens.

  A different voice, high enough to be female, said, “Bay doors opening.”

  “Prepare for launch,” he told the crew, thinking all the while, Frag, get a grip. He took another deep breath.

  Two seats over, Jet said, “Earth2 Mission Central, prototype ready for launch.” Her eyes met his. As he gazed into their blue, a moment of total blank struck him, but then she winked, breaking the spell and thought returned.

  Learned responses kicked in. The lines and numbers assumed clarity and meaning. He gripped his chair. “Launch,” he croaked and pressed the button. Movement took away worry and replaced it with doing.

  Bang.

  The ship catapulted out of the shuttle bay. Outside were stars, stars, stars while inside, below and overhead, numbers and lines danced across a multitude of screens, spewing out data on configurations of course and position.

  His senses reached out to embrace the ship. Everything looked good. Everything felt right. The numbers blinked a reassuring green. Power systems thrummed smoothly, their thrust pressing like a heavy hand on his body as they soared out into open space.

  Words sounded in his ear. “Launch successful. Station clearance will be achieved in five. Activate countdown for booster push.” The deep voice helped keep him in the here and now while strong G-forces tried to press him into unconsciousness.

  “Copy, Earth2. Acknowledge when station is clear. We’re in countdown for the push.”

  His board still read green. He took a few short breaths to send oxygen to the brain and will the nerves to steady. Scanning the cockpit, his crew appeared calm and alert.

  “Acceleration to 3000 mph.
” The voices fed him data that he confirmed, responding as an automaton, letting training and drugs take over. His eyes moved at high speed, gulping in information while his voice choked out responses. His fingers danced on the keyboard, playing the music of the spheres.

  “Countdown for booster rocket ignition.” Jet’s voice came across firm and steady.

  “Course set and handed off to helm.” That was Garrett, on task, exact and crisp.

  “Three… two… one.”

  He gripped the arms of the chair as the booster rocket fired, and the ship jerked ahead into half light speed. The station became a pinpoint and vanished.

  Still green. Still green.

  Time for maneuvers. Time to show what the ship could do.

  “Proceed to first maneuver,” he ordered.

  “Copy that. Ready in three, two, one.” Lucas leaned forward as if whispering to a live beast while the ship shot straight up and rolled left.

  Momentarily, Deane lost concentration as his body absorbed the stress of high G-forces. He blinked back into focus. Staring at the graph, it showed them on track.

  After they regained equilibrium and returned to a reasonable status where speech was possible, he wheezed, “Good job.”

  Lucas’ helmet nodded in acknowledgment.

  “Bogey ahead.” Jet yellow-lighted a distant object, which was approaching rapidly.

  “Ordnance up,” Harry’s eager voice put a nervous smile on Deane’s face.

  “Missiles incoming from enemy target,” observed Jet. “Heading our way.”

  “Intercept and eliminate,” Deane commanded.

  “Firing solution established.” Harry’s normally agitated state became focused and steady. His finger hovered over the fire pad as the numbers drew into alignment.

  “Fire at will,” Deane leaned forward against the strain of his straps, trying to see what human vision was incapable of seeing.

  Two missiles shot out, causing the ship’s frame to shudder, and its acceleration to slow.

  Deane saw the numbers: unbelievable speed from incoming fire met their own missiles’ speed, propelled from a ship traveling at half light. Add in the trajectory angle of flight, and it boggled the human brain.

  But computers could do it, and out in the distance, the enemy missile disintegrated, turning from deadly threat to scattered debris.

  “Wahoo!” Harry shouted.

  “Got you.” Garrett fist-pumped.

  “Finish them.” The adrenaline rush that came from battle excitement poured through him, making him shaky.

  The target came in sight, moving fast, but they calculated its path, and his trigger-happy gunner switched to laser fire to finish off the fake craft, posing as their attacker.

  “Good work, crew. Now, let’s get back safely.” Deane heard the excitement in his own voice.

  “Intercept confirmed. Enemy destroyed. Mission complete,” Mission Central’s deep bass reflected their relief.

  “Plot a course home,” Deane instructed his nav. “Helm, start bleeding off speed and take us back. Comm, tell them we’re on the way.”

  They headed home triumphant.

  Chapter 40

  Fleet ready

  “Did you see that run? Did you see it?” At Mission Central, Richard swooped a hand through the air and whirled to face his wife.

  “Did you not notice me sitting next to you?” She rolled her eyes at the excited man.

  Elise had managed to secure a premier seat inside a room they now called Mission Central where they could monitor the trial. Outside in the main area of the station, reporters, politicos and stationers cheered, slapped each other on the back, and raised drinks to celebrate.

  “We have our ships now,” he said.

  “No, we have a successful prototype. The ships still need to be built and the clock is ticking.”

  “The Republic has automated manufacturing.”

  Shock left her speechless. Seriously?

  He smiled. “We let them make a few ships, so they don’t try to sabotage the effort or, at least, give them a piece of the action and see how they do. Then make producing more ships contingent on successful results.”

  After thinking it over, she considered it bordering on brilliant, but she acted unaffected. No sense in letting him think he was too smart. “It’s an idea.” She shrugged.

  He straightened, an indignant look on his face. “A fragging good one.”

  Crossing her arms, she glared at him. “Sunpointe still trains the crews.” She noticed a cluster of people headed their way and pointed to the exit. “We need to get out of here before we get trapped by those rabid reporters.”

  An operator leaned toward them. “The ship is locked down, and your crew is coming out now.”

  She tapped Richard’s shoulder. “They’ll be dazed. It’s not easy coming down off a half-light run like that. Plus, they’ll need protection from that station mob.”

  He smiled. “I already thought of it. I asked Hallie to roundup volunteers from the crews to provide help.”

  She chuckled at his foresight. “Teams supporting each other, eh? That should play well on the vids.”

  He stared out past her. “Trace wants to stage an announcement concerning the approaching ships before all the amateur astronomers begin making discoveries and causing panic. Since our comet crash, amateur astronomy has become everyone’s paranoid hobby.”

  “It’ll be a way to get minds off our local troubles of Alysians and Terrans.” She gestured for him to lead out.

  “When did a whole world become ‘local troubles’?”

  “When the universe started knocking on your door.”

  ***

  They escaped into a lift which went directly to the Earth2 shuttlebay level. As it opened onto the corridor, Merek fell in step at Elise’s side while Mika appeared at Richard’s.

  Merek whispered into his comm. “We have Metal Man and Top Gun with us.”

  Richard halted to glare at Merek. “Metal Man? That’s what you call me? And why Top Gun for her?”

  Elise slid a sideways glance at Merek. “Comes from an old Earth movie that was popular on my ship. Nice, Merek.”

  He grinned.

  “Humph.” Richard frowned.

  She glanced up to see bright colors flooding the corridor from another direction. Nine teams dressed in uniforms, the color of each team vividly apparent, formed a barrier against the approaching mob that met the wall of uniforms and bounced back.

  “This way Director, Captain.” Merek put out a hand, clearing an opening. As they pushed through, cadets parted, offering a wave of salutes at their passing.

  Vid cameras clicked and whirred as Deane’s crew appeared at the shuttlebay’s entrance. They blinked against the shouting voices and wall of bodies, as they struggled to deal with a different reality than recently experienced.

  Swiftly, a uniform appeared on either side of each crewmember to offer an arm for support.

  Elise slowed to take in the scene. The division was no longer Alysian against Terran, or even male versus female, or even pale skin over darker tones, but rather unified teams facing an existential threat, shoulder to shoulder.

  She hoped the viewing world saw the message and became a part of it.

  ***

  “We have detected fifteen artificial objects that appear to be ships inside our solar system and headed toward Alysia.”

  President Sean Courtland stood at a podium with flags of every country arrayed behind him. On either side of him, delegates from all over the world sat in chairs and listened intently. Before him, everyone in the Government Gallery, in addition to outside reporters, crammed together.

  “We have not identified them absolutely, but both Captain Braden Steele and Captain Elise Fujeint-Steele have encountered aliens in ships from other worlds that looked suspiciously like these crafts. They acted violently. To protect Alysia, in the event of any aggression, we are authorizing a space fleet of warships to be built by various countries
in a unified effort to defend Alysia against any possible extraterrestrial threats.”

  He paused for a breath. “The worst anyone can do on Alysia would be to instigate panic. That action would bring on more harm than any outside enemy could inflict upon us. We have a plan in place to deal with this situation, and we ask every citizen to cooperate in implementing our plan.”

  Elise thought it was a poorly crafted speech, but she was glad the president had finally announced the alien’s approach. Time grew critical. If the alien ships continued to advance at current speeds, they would reach their moon Kracta within the year, and ships took time to build. Luckily, the Terrans had donated five 3-d printers, which sped up the process immensely. Put enough people on the project and ships would spit out of the shuttlebay at a fast clip. Finding the room for everyone to work became the constraining factor.

  Numerous debates over weapons in space filled the media broadcasts and every place people met, but the worldwide riots that Elise feared never materialized. People remembered how vulnerable their planet was and tried to pull together. The United Republic, the Ching T’Karre, the D’Ankanque, and the Democratic Union bent their efforts to building ships as fast as they could.

  Most controversies concerned weaponizing space, and Richard’s fears of sabotage by certain pacifist groups heightened.

  ***

  All the crews returned to Sunpointe where they continued to train while the ships’ construction progressed at both space stations. After a particularly grueling exercise, Deane escaped to his secret music room where he planned to relax. He heard the singing within before he touched the room’s keypad. A liquid sound flowed from the room as he opened the door. Glowing light poured out, enveloping him, and he squinted to make out a hazy form at its center.

  As far as he could tell, it looked like Hallie Lord, but before he was absolutely certain, the image wavered and vanished.

  He stood transfixed as the last notes of Music of the Spheres faded into silence, and the light dimmed to normal.

  “Hallie? Lieutenant Lord? Was that you?”

  Behind him, Richard Steele rushed up. “Oh, frag, I just missed her.”

  Disturbed by the words, Deane spun around, eyes wide. “Are you talking about Lieutenant Lord? Was that her? Where did she go? She just vanished. Poof.” Deane flicked his fingers to illustrate the disappearance.