by L. S. Wood
“Good enough for the son of a bitch”, Ann thought to herself quietly. The Russian cosmonaut who had slammed Scavonivich smiled at her with satisfaction written all over his face, as she nodded her head saying “thank you.” He returned the same “you’re welcome” to her as he sat back down in his seat and buckled up with a happy smile still on his face, as he nodded his head up and down in accomplishment to his fellow comrades, taking pleasure in his well-orchestrated feat.
No one onboard cared if Makita was sitting there knocked out cold or sitting there dead in his seat. He had been the cause of their being stuck in outer space orbiting the earth, and it would be a miracle now if they were all to make it back home to Earth alive.
Ann twisted back around from a half-standing position and eased herself back down into her station at her controls. She began feeling a mere more at ease with the quietness that followed with his mouth silenced for a breather, if not for ever. The golden solitude of silence that followed the incident refreshed everyone in the cabin of the Twitchel, for what was to come next.
“Captain Mitchell! Prepare the Twitchel for reentry!”
“Yes Sir, Commander.” The time had come to put their protective helmets back on again, and attempt another reentry try back down into the Earth’s atmosphere, if a window of opportunity below became available. The cosmonaut who had clobbered Scavonivich, secured Makita’s helmet back to his flight suit for him, then put his own on as everyone else in the cabin put on theirs.
The clouds over the Florida peninsular proved to be a threat to them as they passed over once again the state of Florida. It looked like they were going to have to land in California, taking their chances there on the cluttered runway.
Commander Anderson gave the order to abort the reentry try, sit back, relax, and wait for the next time around in orbit to try again. Removing their helmets, they seriously discussed what their alternatives were going to be. They could try California, but the runway was short, and looked cluttered from where they were. If they tried to land there, they could not afford the least bit of error in making their approach to the runway for there was nowhere else around to land their craft safely down without crashing.
Commander Anderson had never landed there and had only landed a shuttle at the Utah Salt Lake City salt flats, and in Florida. The course they were orbiting now flew them directly over California and Florida. If they wanted to land at the Salt Lake City Salt Flats, they would have to alter their course of orbit. It would require using up a good amount of precious rocket fuel, of which they had none to spare to enable them to alter course and land their bird safely back to Earth on the Salt Flats.
The decision became unanimous among them except for Makita, of course. They would attempt one last reentry try over the cape of Florida, and if they had to abort this time, they would make one last orbit back around to the California landing field and put the Twitchel down there if necessary.
Just their luck the clouds were now rolling in thick as mud from the Pacific Ocean into California’s Los Angeles area as they made their way overhead, now heading for their final destination of Florida they hoped.
“Damn it, Damn it. DAMN IT. We should have put this bird down now and not have waited for another damn turn around. How much usable oxygen do we have left in the air tanks Captain Morris?” “Ten hours maximum, sir, give or take a little time if we use it sparingly.”
“Where else Captain? Where the hell else can we put this damn bird down now?” “Australia maybe, sir, but remember the situation there commander or Hawaii. If it stays light enough, which it should without any overcasts over the islands to see the runways at the airport, it could be a safe spot there if there is no debris littering them. The runway on the main island of Hawaii should be long enough for us to land safely on it, sir.” “Prepare for reentry crew. We are going home one way or another, and I hope it isn’t the other.”
On with their protective helmets the crew once again preformed in haste. “Look for a clear landing zone, Captain. Don’t let us overshoot another window if there is one, Ann?”
“Not if I can help it, sir.” Florida looked mostly overcast with clouds they guessed at approximately ten thousand feet or maybe even more.
“What do you think, men? Can we chance it, or do another go around to Australia or Hawaii? What do you guys think, Captain?”
“If the computer would not lose power when we first reentered the damn atmosphere, I would say go for it here, Commander! Once the computer is gone, it is all in your hands, sir. Whatever you say, Commander, I am with you on this one, sir.”
The cloud cover over Florida looked more like a huge circus tent’s canvas canopy hovering over the state like a mushroom. One side of the cloud cover looked open for people to enter into or exit it. “How long till zero count-down, Captain Mitchell?”
“Zero count-down in three minutes thirty five seconds and still counting, sir.”
“Stand by.” Commander Nelson looked toward Major Bill. “What do you think, Bill?”
“I don’t really know, sir. The cloud cover could be one hell of a lot closer to the ground on the eastern coast than it looks to be on the west coast, Commander. The cloud cover could be at zero-feet ceiling there. Then what in the hell would we do, sir, put her down in the everglades? Without instruments to tell us what to do next in this situation, it could turn out to be a disastrous move for us, sir.”
“What the hell are we going to do then guys? Die up here or try something very soon? We have about two minutes left prior to the window closing in on us again gents. Let us make a decision now or later when it is too damn late! Do we or do we not try it, men? I am not going to make this damn decision all by my lonesome up here guys. Who the hell else wants to try this damn window now, other than myself? I think we can make it, but it’s up to you guys, too.”
Commander Anderson was worried about Australia and Hawaii for the runways there looked to be excessively small and cluttered for them to make a safe landing on them. The tarmac there looked littered with stalled out or smashed up aircraft on it, and the weather there could be as cloudy and socked in as it is over Florida, then what. He did not really want Florida either, but time was running out on the window of opportunity soon as was their precious oxygen.
Scavonivich had been sitting quiet in his seat for quite some time now, and started his silly melancholy yelling and chanting all over again. “He is going to kill us all. He is a mad man. Can you all not see it in him he is the lunatic here? He is a suicidal commander wanting to take us all out with himself. You have to stop him; you have to stop him, for he is the crazy one. Can any you fools see that?”
Three, Two, One, Zero of the window was closing in on them fast. Ann hit the retrorocket booster pack.
“Sorry, sir. It is too damn late to stop them now, sir. The computers are set, and we are going in one way or another.”
Commander Anderson switched from questioning Ann and turned his full attention to commanding the Twitchel’s reentry course.
“Major! Switch the computer to auto pilot scan.
“Captain, full shields up, Captain!”
The only visibility they had quickly disappeared behind the heat shields as they rose up over the canopy of the windshield. The final plotted course of their ship was in the control of the onboard computer now. Captain Morris and Captain Ann synchronized their bearings, speed, and pitch of the Twitchel for a nice smooth reentry bearing back down into the earth’s atmosphere.
“Heat is beginning to climb rapidly, sir, 1500 Degrees, 1600 degrees, 1700 degrees, 1800 degrees, 1900 degrees, now 2000 degrees, sir! Commander Anderson punched in an angle of decent pitch change into the computer while trying to communicate with Captain Mitchell and Major Bill to talk them through what he was doing to their programmed reentry settings.
Scavonivich in the background was screaming and hollering at the top of his lungs again s
o damn loud it became almost impossible for anyone to communicate properly with one another inside the capsule. The crewmembers aboard the Twitchel were having an extreme hard time hearing the readings given out by the different crewmembers as they were going into their last descent into their reentry.
No one knew how long the power to the computers would last this time. Not able to remember when the monster controlling the earth’s power fields would suck the life out of their craft as it had the last time. They only hoped like the last time in their reentry, it would not suck any of the life out of anyone onboard the Twitchel when it hit.
Commander Anderson called out for the outside heat shield temperature readings to be read to him again. “Coming down good, sir.”
“Major Bill! Lower the outside heat shields when the outside temperature falls to a safe 600 degrees, Bill.”
“Yes, sir, Commander.”
From then on, Commander Anderson and Major Bill had their hands glued tight to the controls of the Twitchel flight controls like welds applied to a steel beam in a skyscraper. They had decided beforehand they were not going to shut the power off to the main computers controls at all as they had decided they were going to let it happen naturally, whatever naturally meant?
They were going to let the free-floating beast in the atmosphere from the neutrons fusion explosion do whatever it had to do, and they were going to be as ready as they could possibly be whenever it took their precious power from their craft.
Their flight computer onboard would be the last thing they wanted, and hoped the transfer of power was quick as death to happen and not alter the course of their craft by too much in their final approach back to Earth. As the heat shields began retracting away, a reddish green and orange sheen started engulfing the front nose of the Twitchel. This time it was not the normal heat generated by their rapid descent back into the earth’s atmosphere either. It was the millions if not billions and trillions of little tiny wild neutrons free floating in the atmosphere surrounding the earth attacking the positively charged spacecraft. Everyone knew what it was. Their trembling voices hollering out instrumental readings to each other waited for the inevitable to happen to their craft and the power systems to instantly fail.
Suddenly, the Twitchel began shimmering and shaking from the external forces exerted upon its fuselage. Many of these wild neutrons instantly attacked the outer shell of the craft like ice buildup on wings of an airplane as it began its tactics of draining any electrical power it could from the vessel and any other form it could possibly drain seeking out all sources of power from within.
Co-pilot, Major Bill’s hands, along with Commander Anderson’s hands were both glued ridged in place as the color of their skin turned an unseen cold frosty white from their holding onto the flight controls so hard with gloved hands that hurt. They knew the craft was wicked easy to fly with the help of all the electrically operated instruments onboard. Along with the electronically controlled glide flaps and hydraulic landing gears, but the instruments on the instrument panel were soon to become an element of the past and it would be man against this huge weighty beast made from steel flying machine.
They were both going to have to use pure man super strength to fly the Twitchel again as they had before when they first encountered their craft without power. It would be difficult to control the manmade machine that was supposed to be all automatically controlled for them. They had been extremely lucky to do it safely the last time they landed this bird, and were now even more ready for the arduous task that lay ahead of them for landing the Twitchel down one more time safely.
Comparable to a bolt of intense lightning departing the earth’s surface during a warm summer’s day thunder storm, the orange, green, yellowy patina of fluorescent light shot off the skin of the Twitchel it had immediately encompassed like an outer membrane in a flash, as it faded into the unknown depths of the earth’s huge atmosphere, and then dissipated into nothingness into the clear blue of sky.
Forthwith at that specific time, the electric power of the Twitchel went from an instrument panel of vibrant colorful display lights to the dark of silent blackness. Not the simplest of rays of a tiny spark or current of electricity could be seen in any of the dials on any panel in the spacecraft. The only rays of light now were the ones generating down from the sun shining through the canopy of scattered clouds and through the main windshield.
The only workable flight instruments onboard for a safe flight down to earth were the mechanical flight instruments. A weight tube altimeter for the height they were flying at. The mechanical airspeed instrument, which had an outer capillary tube attached to catch the swift volume of air moving past it outside activating a sensitive spring airspeed needle inside the gage along with a mechanical bubble floating horizon indicator.
The horizon indicator would help them keep their craft in a true and level flight path. This instrument would prevent any vertigo to happen as long as they believe their flight instrument readings. The magnetic readings for accurate guidance of the compasses on board were not quite as accurate as they had once been before the neutron blast, for now the polar caps of the earth’s magnetic fields had been weekend immensely.
The compasses would work for them most of the time, then on some occasions they would fail giving Commander Anderson a very sick funny feeling of mistrust when their very critical direction of approach to their very valued landing area was miss read. The air speed and pitch applied the Twitchel was their most cared about critical condition in their rapid descent back down through the thick cloud covered overcast as mounting tension engulfed everyone inside the Twitchel not being able to see anything outside their craft but clouds.
Everyone in the cockpit of the Twitchel was feeling the emotional static of deep concern with her crew and the several nervous passengers she was carrying to the point of emotional explosion. Everyone soon hoped Scavonivich would die from talk exhaustion but he continued to live and babble on and on ever the more stringently about death by execution. He was not the main reason of tension between everyone now, but the next in line too it all. Even Commander Anderson was at the point of a nervous mental meltdown because of Scavonivich and his foul flowing mouth of ill repute about everyone breathing their last breaths!
Ann sat at her station silently praying. She now wished she had told Commander Anderson no when he had first approached her to help him in this risky mission, and why in the hell had she gone and fired those damn retro rockets in the first place to reenter them back into the outer atmosphere? Was it in spite of Scavonivich and his misgivings about the commander? Yes it was. No one should have to take that sort of bad mouthing Scavonivich continually directed toward the commander. Commander Nelson Anderson was one of the most gentle men alive she had ever met other than her own husband. Ben would not hurt a lousy damn common housefly or any other stupid little bug for that matter. He would help the most stupid of damn creature out of doors of the house and let them go first, even shooing away a damn mosquito so he would not have to kill it. He would rather have it bite him and suck his blood than kill the darn stupid thing. “Why then why? Why did I hit that damn rocket switch? It was not fair of me to take that decision away from everyone else onboard. I took away everyone’s vote whether they all wanted to land elsewhere or not, even the commander’s choice. It was a very selfish act for me to have hastily done!”
“What is our air speed, Captain?
“Slowing to a mere 400 air miles an hour, sir!”
“Damn it Bill! We should be breaking though this dense cloudy overcast any minute now. The cloud cover can’t be this damn low can it?” “If the ceiling is zero, Nelson, we will never know what hit us anyway!”
Scavonivich screamed out in his own total mental fear for he was still convinced the Americans were out to get him and his fellow Soviets. “He is a mad man! I am telling you all he is mad. He is going to kill us all, going to kill us all!” Commander Anders
on wished he had not said what he was thinking, aloud, verbally expressing the situation they were in to Bill.
“Breaking 9000 feet now Commander! Breaking 8000 feet now, sir!” Closing in on 7000 feet rapidly, Commander. They finally broke out through the dense cloud cover over the landing zone with limited visibility.
They could see they were approximately a ¼ mile off course visually looking at the runway off to their far right side swiftly passing by the runway on a serious course that was leading them out towards the sea and out over the Atlantic Ocean.
“Easy hard rudder to the right, Bill, follow through with me now.” Steven spoke up.
“How about putting down the landing gear, Commander?”
“I don’t think so right now lieutenant. I think we need a prayer right now, if we are going to make it to the runway.
“Do we have a prayer, Lieutenant?” If we lower the landing gear right now, it might slow us to a critical stalling air speed in our attempt to return to the runway and possibly never make it that distance. I really don‘t think we need them yet.” The heavy mist on the cockpit windshield did not help matters either. Everything bellow them looked all out of sorts and array to them as they descended down further and further down out of the heavens through the moist mist and wet cloud cover putting extra drag on the shuttles wings and fuselage.
“What is our air speed, Captain?”
“Airspeed 375 miles an hour now, with speed dropping rapidly, sir.
“Ease her down, Bill, with our turn, not too fast.
The shuttle slowly turned and dipped downward from their every command as it shook like a dog trying to shake off a big biting tick from its back in its decent.