by M. Alan Marr
“Maintain control. Breathe. Fly your ships.”
The environment is horrible. Breathing is heavy and labored. This is by far the worst experience the Oasis candidates have ever experienced so far, forcing a breath in the middle of their sentences. The strain of the gravitational crush on their diaphragms pushes air out of their lungs so much faster than they’re used to. The task of breathing is almost reversed as they labor to inhale. The controls feel very heavy, not to mention how heavy their own bodies feel.
“Whoa . . . ” Jen says, with difficulty. “This . . . is . . . horrible.”
Matt’s face is contorted, doing heavy-g breathing to force blood into his extremities. “I . . . feel . . . like . . . a . . . Houston housewife.”
“Deep . . . breaths,” Chaz says as the voice of experience. “Control . . . your exhale.”
“Keep your masks on,” Dev orders, casually. “Maintain course. You’ll need extra power from your engines and vertical maneuvering systems to arrest your descent.”
The flames and plasma streamers of reentry bend downward in this gravity. Dev and the instructors are not wearing masks, as they are accustomed to this gravity, having spent four years on the surface at the Citadel.
Dev continues. “Setting down on Bellerophon is going to be more difficult than any landing you’ve done so far. The gravity is working hard against you, and your controls are going to feel even heavier than they do right now. You’ll experience muscle fatigue, so be mindful of how your arms and hands feel. If you get a sink rate alarm, immediately fire your thrusters and launch. There is no margin for error. Your instructors will give you no latitude on this and will take command if necessary.”
Throughout the difficult reentry and flight, Dev offers more advice. “We have a saying here: There’s no room for pride on Bellerophon. Watch your instruments. Listen to your instructors. Take. It. Slow.”
Landing on Bellerophon is not fun. It’s certainly not easy. And touching down doesn’t make the horrible heavy feeling go away. Even a soft landing feels like hitting a wall in the crush of this gravity. Even though Chaz has been here once before, this is his first time landing. He comes in slow and steady. Steve is even more cautious.
Harrison allows his ship to settle a little too fast and triggers the closure alert, and he launches back into the upper atmosphere. “Abort!” his instructor yells, but Harrison is right on top of it, although he cries out in pain during the sudden acceleration. He does make a successful landing the second time around and is the last one to land. Jen’s landing was among the best; Matt’s was the worst, owing to his skinny frame and lack of musculature; his arms shook and gave out just inches above the ground, and dropped in hard.
Most of the particulate matter from the Yeti attack several months ago has cleared, mostly due to the heavy gravity, but there are several billowy bands of high-altitude particulate that give Bellerophon an dreary, foreboding look.
First exposure to Bellerophon is the worst. Their training dockets today do not require them exiting their ships, something harder to do than one might realize when you consider that two-hundred-pound Chaz weighs over four hundred pounds in this environment. Climbing down off a ship is much harder than it sounds. And the possibility of one of the Oasis candidates breaking an ankle or leg falling off their ship is not worth the chance. Not today anyway.
The few minutes they spent on the ground is long enough for all to see just how inhospitable Bellerophon is. Leaving as soon as possible is the best course of action. Launch clearance is granted, and, one by one, the ships make shaky takeoffs. As difficult as the descent was, the climb out is even worse as they are working against gravity the entire time. Power is increased gradually to prevent blacking out from too sudden an acceleration. And it takes a lot of power to reach orbit.
As the training ships finally climb out of the atmosphere, the candidates are delighted to be back into zero-g. Bellerophon is a cold, dark hellhole they all agree they could do without.
“Oasis flight,” Dev says on the radio. “Make three more TransAt approaches to a full stop landing, then return to Trieste.”
There are groans from everyone, including Chaz.
“Sorry, guys, rules of the house. You all have to get comfortable being uncomfortable. Instructors, stagger the orbit for one-on-one landings.”
They all complained, but they all managed to find the strength to make three more approaches to three heavy gravity landings on Bellerophon. The ships require refueling after the last landing. This is the only chance the candidates have to ‘rest,’ or at least suffer quietly.
“Breathing is the hardest task to master right now. Work on taking long, slow, deep breaths. Your O2 concentrators will deliver sufficient oxygen. Steady breathing will keep your tissues oxygenated. If you start to feel lightheaded, or numbness in your hands or feet, take deeper breaths. Grunting will help squeeze the blood out to your extremities, and that includes your brain.
Returning to Trieste seemed like a bunch of horses running to the barn. Everyone is very happy to see Bellerophon falling away behind them.
“I’m just guessing we barely passed that test.” Jen says.
“Don’t beat yourself up, Jen.” Dev says over the radio. “You guys have no experience with heavy gravity. It will get easier next time.”
“You mean we have to go back?” Matt says with dread.
Dev smiles. “Count on it, HazMatt.”
***
Simulation gives way to more and more live flight exercises. The real ships start feeling comfortable. And despite the fact the candidates have been launching and orbiting and doing atmospheric reentries, the training flights begin to feel, to some degree, routine. The rigorous study time and flight experience seem to coalesce into something meaningful.
Today, however, feels different. There is a delay on the tarmac as Chaz and the Oasis Flight Midshipmen wait for their instructors. The ships are preflighted and ready for launch, and up till now, the Tertian Instructors have been extremely punctual. Steve checks his chronometer and begins wondering aloud if they were supposed to report to the simulation facility. Chaz worries if another crisis has happened at the Admiralty.
Steve walks over to Chaz. “Dev say anything?”
“He had an early meeting this morning. I haven’t seen him.”
A small vehicle arrives, and the rear door rotates upward. The pilots automatically come to attention on the flight line in front of Chaz’s ship.
Dev exits the Tertian lambo and puts his hat on. He is not wearing a flight suit, but rather, is dressed in uniform. The group drops their stance slightly. Chaz notices this out of his periphery, but reads Dev’s body language and shushes everyone. “Stand at attention! Commander on deck!”
Everyone comes to attention and salutes.
Dev returns the salute as he approaches the pilots. “Oasis flight candidates, be ready for launch in five minutes.”
“Uh, our instructors are missing in action,” Jen says, then adds, “Sir.”
Dev marches down the line to Jen’s position, turns ninety degrees, and faces her head-on. “Flight Midshipman Jen, your instructors are back at Training Command manning the telemetry displays.” Dev walks along the flight line and address the rest of them. “Today, you will rely on everything you’ve learned thus far, both here, and on Earth. Today, you solo.”
There is a palpable air of approval and excitement in the lineup.
Dev continues in official tones. “You will follow all established protocols. You will launch. You will fly to Triton. You will conduct one orbit of Triton, and then you will approach Bellerophon, where you will land, shut down, refuel, and have your training dockets stamped by the supervising officer on the Bellerophon tarmac. You will then return to Trieste and land here. In. One. Piece. Any questions?”
There are none.
“Commander Chaz has the lead,” Dev says, then breaks character for a moment. “We’ll be watching everything, so no aerobatics. And Matt and
Jen . . . ”
Jen knows what he means. “Understood.”
Matt nods. “Aye, sir.”
Dev turns before entering the vehicle. “If you run into a Yeti . . . your guns are live. Don’t shoot each other. Go to full throttle and get your asses back to either Trieste or Bellerophon, whichever is closer. Do not engage the enemy if you can escape. If a Yeti gets behind you, try to fake them. They tend to over control on the turns.” He takes a last look at the lineup and salutes. Steve, Harrison, Jen, and Matt salute Tertian style. Chaz salutes Navy style. “Carry on.” Dev boards the vehicle and adds, as the door is closing, “Safe flight, guys.”
“And girl,” Jen adds under her breath, as the Lambo drives away.
Chaz looks at the group. “When we get back, I’m teaching you guys how to salute.”
By the time Dev returns to the Training Command, the fledgling Oasis squadron is in their equatorial climb to orbit. Departure control clears the squadron to leave orbit and accelerate on course to Triton.
FLIGHT TRAINING COMMAND
FLIGHT OPERATIONS CENTER
The Instructors all take notes on their pads as they stand behind individual controllers watching their assigned candidate. They hear the air traffic controller instructions on the overhead speakers as well as the individual ship-to-ship chatter. Most traffic control instructions are routed through Chaz as the lead ship.
The flight to Triton is within established norms for the squadron. Their formation is pretty stable, although Harrison still nudges out ahead every so often before making gentle corrections.
The training squadron enters orbit around Triton, makes one complete circuit, and then turns toward Bellerophon.
The lead controller reads her screen and turns to Dev. “Bellerophon approach has them, Commander.”
“Thank you, Leftenant.”
Virtually all screens in the room are focused on this training flight. Detection is looking for any sign of Yeti activity; telemetry is watching everything from consumption of fuel to individual approach courses; analytics is watching for any abnormal ships status. It is rumored the Flight Admiral and Field Marshal may even be watching, as there is an active telemetry link being routed to the Admiralty.
Dev is standing back to let the instruction staff do their jobs. He stands pensively with his arms crossed. Glancing to his right, he sees a small group of officers—flight students—standing by the entry to the room, trying to observe as well. Dev discreetly waves them in. They quietly approach and salute. Dev returns their salute, then continues to watch the screens. The visitors flank discreetly behind Dev.
“Pardon the intrusion, sir,” an officer whispers. “We wanted to see how they’re doing.”
Dev doesn’t take his eyes off the screens, but leans slightly back toward the junior officer and speaks quietly. “They just completed their circuit around Triton and have entered orbit around Bellerophon.”
“Any problems, sir?”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
***
The stopover at Bellerophon is torturous for everyone. The touchdowns take twice as long, since everyone is approaching very cautiously. That in and of itself is not uncommon. In fact, it’s referred to as the Bellerophon crawl, since virtually everyone does it that way on their first solo.
Outside, it’s cold. It smells like brimstone. It’s windy, and it’s snowing bits of black ash left over from the Yeti attack. For Dev, it means waiting a half hour before all of the ships are serviced and ready to fly again.
***
Refueled, serviced, and training dockets stamped, all Oasis ships launch and clear Bellerophon’s airspace. The formation flight back to Trieste is warm, comfortable, and blessedly free of gravity. As the flight of five ships approaches Trieste, they break formation and settle into a single file line with Chaz in the lead. If everyone does what they are supposed to, it’s a matter of follow the leader back through reentry.
One by one they enter the Tertian atmosphere and transition back into atmospheric flight. The heat of reentry removed any traces of Bellerophon ash on the ships, at least externally. The ground crews will service the internal components after landing. It is now nightfall at the Admiralty Port. The long, trying day is almost over.
The equatorial descent goes as planned, and every member of the Oasis squadron lands back at the Port Amiralty without incident. The ships are shut down, the pilots exit, and they hand off their ships’ logs to the waiting crewman. The pilots all run up to each other with excitement on the successful completion of their first solo. Their moods are exuberant. Dev smiles with quiet pride that his Earthly friends just did something incredible. His face returns to a more stoic look as the Lead Instructor turns to him.
“Outstanding work, Commander,” the Instructor says. “If I may say so, sir.”
Dev allows himself a slight smile. “You may, Leftenant, you may.” Dev checks his chrono and returns to the business at hand. “They’re going to be tired and hungry. Debrief their performance, then let them eat.”
The Oasis Flight Midshipmen enter the officers mess, still excited about their milestone flight. There is a bounce to their step. Someone calls, loudly, “Oasis Flight Midshipmen on deck!” triggering everyone in the mess hall, even the commissioned officers, to stand.
This takes the Oasis candidates by surprise, momentarily interrupting their gait. But then they see it. Everyone in the mess hall salutes them as they walk down the center.
Near the front, a commissioned Leftenant marches straight up to Steve and company. “As the senior officer of the mess, may I extend our congratulations on a successful first solo flight.”
Steve smiles widely, as do Harrison, Jen, and Matt.
“Thank you, sir,” Steve says from the heart. “Thank you, all.”
The Leftenant calls to the crowd, “Three cheers for Oasis! Hip-hip.”
The room cheers, “Hazaa!”
“Hip-hip.”
“Hazaa!”
“Hip-hip.”
“Hazaa!”
Applause follows. The Leftenant walks with Steve to the food line. “I, for one, wondered if you Oasisians had it in you.” He adds, “I don’t mind admitting I was very wrong. I hope you can forgive my ignorance, sir.”
“I don’t mind telling you, we thought the same thing,” Steve jokes.
“Rest assured, Midshipman, they would not have let you solo if you weren’t ready for it.”
During the meal, the Midshipmen tables are alive with conversation. The Oasis pilots retell their solo story, and add some new information.
“We were all flight instructors early in our careers,” Steve says. “I always thought sending a student off to solo was more stressful for the instructor. That is, until today. And no matter how prepared the student may be, it’s always a surprise when the instructor gets out of the aircraft and says ‘take her up.’ It was no different for us. None of us expected this today.”
“What happens next, Lieutenant?” Harrison asks.
“Well, standard protocol would have much of your live instruction involving an instructor in a lead ship. You and your fellows would all be manning individual ships.”
“We solo the rest of the way?” Jen asks.
“Typically, yes, until completing the advanced series docket. However, your training has been anything but typical.”
***
The following days are very busy. Flight after flight after flight. Tonight’s training op, is led by Commander Dev.
TRIESTE ORBIT
NEBULA TRAINING FLIGHT
2300 HOURS
The Oasis candidates, each manning an advanced trainer, climb out of the night-side orbit of Trieste in formation with Dev’s fighter in the lead. Everyone is excited about flying to the brilliant, multicolored nebula ahead.
“Oasis Flight,” Dev says, “let’s have a status check, please.”
“Chaz is good.”
“All systems are go,” Steve says.
Harriso
n responds, “I’m good.”
Jen, “Me too.”
“I’m . . . hang on.”
“What is it, Matt?”
“Um . . . my atmospherics are only reading half full.”
“Oh, that’s interesting,” Dev says. “Anyone else?”
Sure enough, all of the Midshipmen’s atmospheric support tanks are reading fifty percent. All report the same condition.
“Ah-ha!” Dev says. “In future, you might want to verify your atmospheric tanks before you leave the ground. Don’t get so rushed that you miss things.” Dev smiles. “Don’t worry, just about everyone manages to miss this. Something about flying to the nebula distracts them. No fear, though, in this case, your tanks were only serviced to half capacity for the purposes of tonight’s lesson.”
“What’s the lesson, how to run out of air?” Matt jokes.
“It will be if you don’t pay attention,” Dev says. “Midshipmen, your atmospheric tanks are half-empty. You’re far from home with a long way to go. What do you do?”
Jen turns around and sees Trieste. “Uh, we’re like ten minutes from home.”
“Hypothetically, Jen,” Dev says with an edge in his voice. “While you’re thinking about that, follow me, quietly, to the nebula.”
The usually chatty Oasis pilots are quiet while they ponder their dilemma. There is a signal on Dev’s comm panel for a ship-to-ship link with Chaz’s ship. Dev keys the icon. “Go ahead, Chaz, they can’t hear us.”
“I take it you don’t want me to say anything?”
“You know this already, Chaz. Let them work the problem.”
“Roger, Chaz out.”
A short while later, Dev breaks the silence between ships. “Okay, Midshipmen, any ideas?”
“Call for backup?” Steve suggests.