Initiation Series: Series One Compilation (Terran Chronicles)

by James Jackson

  John takes his focus off his consoles and looks at George skeptically, his eyes are very wide.

  Cindy’s response is far from instant. “Ah, without GUS we will have to run everything straight from the alien consoles.”

  George turns, lifts his visor and looks John straight in the eyes. “I heard you were good, let’s see how good, shall we?”

  John’s return gaze, though unwavering, is at the same time, a little vacant. Flying a space shuttle is a lot easier than launching an alien spaceship.

  Joe gulps as he unplugs his remaining laptop, the other is still smoldering quietly nearby. Andrew also unplugs his laptop, and then stares despairingly at the Gamin symbols before him. Though he has a rough idea of what some of the symbols mean, he is disinclined to start touching any. Glancing at each other, the two men switch off their laptops. When GUS shuts down, they will be virtually useless.

  Footfalls can be heard coming down the corridor. Henry finally makes it to the bridge with a medical kit in hand. He is just in time to see the varied expressions on everyone’s faces, and none look inspiring. Disheartened by the atmosphere in the room, his shoulders sag.

  Peter, who has been sitting unnoticed this entire time, speaks up. “John is not just good, he is the best.” He glances at their new arrival, as he raises an eyebrow questioningly. “Anyone here read the brief on John’s ISS rescue?” He looks around at the perplexed expressions. “Quite fascinating really.” He adds.

  Cindy shakes her head as she ponders, he is a weird one that’s for sure.

  Andrew looks at his unpowered laptop, then back at the various symbols on the alien terminal in bewilderment. He has no idea what his task is right now, and feels quite superfluous. Many of the symbols are lit, but he has to refer to his notes to see what they mean.

  As if picking up Andrew’s vibe, George surprises him with instructions. “Andrew, balance power draw from the reactors. Without GUS interfacing, the ship will try to draw more power than the reactors can deliver.”

  John swings back and intently monitors his console. His voice is composed as he confidently announces. “Main boosters in ten seconds, pre-ignition is good.” His hand moves to the purpose-built terminal. “Wait for my signal before you shut GUS down. I need to make sure everything is running properly first.”

  Cindy taps her chair’s console. “All hands, secure stations, brace for launch.”

  The announcement surprises everyone throughout the ship, especially those who were only scheduled to be on board for the pre-flight systems test, and not the actual launch.

  John ominously counts down the last few seconds. “Three… Two... One....”

  Onlookers are mortified when all forty-eight booster rockets go from a sparkling glow, to a roaring blaze of light. Raw energy courses out of the engines as they burn through astronomical amounts of fuel each and every passing second. Lisa and Johnny cover their ears while the Terran just sits there, unmoving on its massive fountains of flame.

  Johnny looks up at his mom, a worried expression on his face. He has to shout to be heard. “Mom, why aren’t they going up?” She looks down at him briefly, then ruffles his hair. Johnny’s frown deepens, she never does that.

  John taps a few more commands on the terminal controlling the booster rockets and reports. “Boosters are at one hundred to one hundred-ten percent. Thrusters are running hot. We just don’t have enough power to get this monster off the ground.”

  The Terran starts to shake and vibrate, but does little more.

  George responds in earnest. “Shutting GUS down, diverting remaining power to the gravity lift system, including the emergency battery reserves.”

  Lights dim ship-wide, and stay low. Operators in the main computer room are stunned when GUS unexpectedly loses power. They are even more astonished to discover that the system’s battery backup power fails to kick in. They try to call the bridge, only to discover that the intercom no longer works either. A small group of annoyed computer technicians start the arduous trek to the bridge seeking answers.

  John works his console feverously, diverting every bit of power from each of the thrusters’ independent capacitors into either overcharging them, or back into the ship’s power grid. “George, I got you a little more power. We have two minutes of main booster thrust and, at best guess, five to six minutes remaining on the thrusters.”

  With internal gravity, along with a number of other systems being offline, the vibrations increase in intensity. The Terran rocks back and forth inside the cradle of the construction dock.

  Andrew is having a hard time monitoring the individual reactors from the Gamin console, what he does see is alarming. Temperatures are above critical, and climbing. Doing his best to regulate the system’s demands, he tries not to imagine what it must be like in the reactor rooms. The crews are doing everything they can to cool down pipe work that is starting to glow a dull red.

  Suddenly everyone on board feels it, the Terran lurches, and anyone not seated falls down. Even John loses his renowned calm, and shouts excitedly. “We have lift off!”

  All eyes turn to look outside, the support pylons slowly drop away from view. George feels the increasing g-forces, and activates his suit’s stability control. Joe’s damaged laptop shakes off the console, and smashes onto the floor. He quickly secures his other one, and manages to catch Andrew’s before it hits the deck.

  Out in the desert, Johnny is jumping up and down with excitement as he watches the ship lift off. “Yeah, they did it. Look mom, they did it!”

  Lisa’s chagrined smile is all he gets as she stares anxiously at the departing spaceship. All she can think about, is that her husband is still on board. The pillars of light continue to blaze from beneath the departing craft as it slowly climbs away from them. She has a right to be worried, for things are going far from according to plan today.

  The vibrations and increasing g-forces keep everyone firmly planted in their seats or pressed to the deck where they fell. Andrew continues to make adjustments to the power flow, coaxing the ship’s nuclear reactors. John uses all the power he can get as he adjusts thruster output to keep the ship steadily climbing. Without the aid of GUS he has to do this manually. He has yet to figure out how to make the alien console display that information. Meanwhile George is very busy monitoring everything, so busy he fails to notice a new symbol blinking ominously. With great reluctance, he engages the air circulation system in the reactor area, hoping to divert some heat. He draws this power from the ship’s ever diminishing battery backup, which though quite impressive, is not limitless. Still, the ship climbs, gaining speed as it moves ever upward, parting the clouds in its passing.

  “Booster rockets will start running out soon,” calls out John. “I will attempt to compensate as they are exhausted.” The sky starts to darken as they steadily gain altitude.

  As the Terran fades away into the distance, Lisa becomes overwhelmed by her emotions. There are very few women at the facility, but they rally to her aid. Taking her and Johnny by their arms, they head inside to wait.

  John has had his fair share of shuttle launches, but nothing could have prepared him for today’s takeoff. The vibrations lessen as the timer passes the two-minute mark. He stares at the booster rocket console and says, “Well I think that’s it for the boosters! But we can't jettison them until GUS is back online.”

  There is a perceptible drop in the vibrations and g-force, allowing people to get to their feet. “We’re looking good.” John reports. He grins as the sky starts to transition to a star filled view.

  As the Terran continues to climb, John’s feelings of jubilation turn to concern. “Uh oh. Climb rate is dropping. Man, this thing is a brick.” With the ship losing momentum fast, he does the unthinkable. “Rolling the ship, we still have some untapped power in the capacitors of the upper thrusters.”

  Joe has been looking at his console with curiosity for the last few minutes. There is just something he cannot put his finger on. Just then a blaze
of light strikes the front of the ship, soon to be joined by another, then another. With everyone concentrating on their consoles it is Cindy, with her bird’s eye view, who gets to see the whole spectacle. She is momentarily stunned as she watches beams of light strike the ship.

  Finally, Cindy breaks her thoughts from the mesmerizing scene, and shouts. “George!”

  Lasers strike the rolling ship as it unceremoniously continues to gain altitude.

  George is startled by Cindy’s shout and turns to her. Glancing past her, he catches sight of the multiple beams striking their ship. Looking back at his console, he notices an unfamiliar flashing symbol. It takes precious seconds for him to get the terminal to vocalize this symbol, and then for his earpiece to translate it. Code required, what code? Ponders George worriedly. He scans his suit’s scrolling marquee, wasting even more precious time trying to find a solution. Multiple lasers begin to melt, and peel away, strips of armor as the ship’s roll continues unabated. George is uncertain about what he can do about their predicament.

  Cindy, struggling to stay seated due to the ship’s angle, is startled when restraints suddenly spring out from her chair, holding her thighs firmly in place.

  Joe looks down at his ‘restraints’ and manages a whimsical, “Cool,” at this pleasant surprise.

  Objects that are not secured, slide or roll along floors, and then walls, as the ship continues to turn over. The hangar deck crew watches in fascination as the shuttles amazingly remain locked in place. As the ship rotates to an impossible angle all eyes turn to see George’s suit standing, on what their rationale now tells them, is the ceiling. All the while, dozens of lasers continue to steadily cut away at their ship.

  Cindy has had time to consider everything that has been going on, and with trepidation, issues a bold order. “Joe, engage the navigational shields.”

  Joe hesitates for a second, then upon hearing no rebuttal, gingerly touches a symbol on his console. It instantly lights up, and almost immediately a faint glow starts to emanate from outside the ship. His nerves are settling now. Phew, that was the right symbol. He thinks with relief.

  Andrew watches in horror as the sudden power drain on the already overtaxed reactors, causes a renewed wave of flashing lights to dominate his console. He frantically adjusts settings as best he can. The power scale hovering around two percent spikes for a split second, then drops below measurable levels. Instinctively, he looks forward to where the reactors are located. The lasers suddenly stop cutting into the ship, leaving behind numerous scorch marks and furrows in the hull. The damage is roughly where the reactors are located.

  John runs the thrusters hard, ignoring his console’s caution lights, as he pilots the Terran relentlessly upward. Its ever-diminishing power reserves a critical concern.

  Without warning, everything goes pitch black. Lights, consoles, and everything else fails. The bridge crew finds themselves drawn to the only light source around, the star-filled view outside. Thus, the Terran makes its rather unceremonious and inaugural flight into space, tumbling on her axis, and powerless. Everyone onboard goes from struggling with the ship’s slow roll, to coping with weightlessness. A few flashlights come on here and there as the crew gets organized.

  Cindy finds the slow spinning view quite unsettling. She asks nervously, “George, what just happened?”

  The view directly ahead of her shows moving stars, the moon, Earth, and then more stars, as the ship rolls over and over, completely out of control.

  In the main hangar deck, three men find nothing to hold onto, and float away. The ship’s internal gravity is not working as expected, and is disconcerting to all.

  George powers his console up from his suit’s reserves, and then tries to fathom what is going on. “Well, I have some good news and some bad news. What do you want first?”

  Luckily it is too dark for anyone to read Cindy’s exasperated expression. “Everything you have.” She states quickly. Does he even realize that we are in the dark, with no power, drifting in space? “Anything is good news right now.” He is so disconnected at times. She continues her private thoughts while awaiting his answer.

  “Well, the good news is we shall have power soon! It looks like we tripped the main circuit breaker in the reactor room.” George hesitates as he wonders how to continue. “The bad news is that when that circuit is reset, every system will power up.”

  Silence is his reply, so he explains, “Every system means, lights, life support, artificial gravity, and GUS, along with our consoles.”

  Cindy is just starting to become irritated when the ramifications of this hit home. “If they reset the breakers, everything that’s floating will hit the deck!”

  “Yes, at Earth’s gravity plus fifteen percent, and we have no way of warning anyone.” Replies George.

  The seconds tick by as the ship rolls over and over. Each slow revolution adds to everyone’s stress levels, all they can do is wait. Whereas Cindy is sickened by the revolving view, John relishes in it. He becomes mindful of how strong the superstructure must be throughout the ship. He is further thankful that most of the crew spent time in the zero-g room, in preparation for this mission.

  Down in the reactor control room, teams frantically locate flashlights, as many begin to fear the worst. Fortunately, the individual terminals monitoring each reactor are still functioning. Crew at these terminals study various gauges and readouts, and one by one they relax.

  A voice calls out from somewhere nearby. “Hey, it’s alright! It’s just the main breaker.” His tone picks up as he looks at the breaker switch. “I just have to reset it.”

  “WAIT!” Another voice calls out in panic from the darkened room. A beam of light weaves around haphazardly as the shouting man moves toward the main breaker.

  The resetting of the breaker is far quicker than any words could be, no matter how hastily spoken. By chance, the man at the breaker, either from sheer luck, or from his desire for normalcy, is standing on the actual floor when he resets the switch. The effects are instantaneous throughout the ship. Everything not secured, abruptly crashes to the floor. Many of the crew have the wind knocked out of them as they strike the deck with bone jarring force. Others are not as fortunate as they collide with objects less friendly.

  One crew member, floating over an area of decking without gravity plating, makes his way hand over hand down a corridor. With the power back on, the area is well lit. Up ahead, he can make out the section where welders have done their best to join Earth-made plating to the alien floor. He carefully makes his way, and smiles as he passes a sign which reads. 'Warning: No Artificial Gravity Plates’. Sorta noticed, he chuckles to himself, as his arms, and then his head, cross the threshold. The effect is almost instantaneous, giving him no time to react. His hands, arms, and head, suddenly snap downward. The sound of his skull hitting the deck, followed by the sickening crunch of his neck breaking, would weaken anyone. Slowly, in a horrible dance macabre, his lifeless body rolls forward as momentum carries his floating legs across the weld line, where they too, smash onto the deck.

  The main cargo area, with the three shuttles, is pure chaos. Crates and barrels lay smashed and dented where they fell, spilling their contents. The shuttles, by some miracle, seem unaffected.

  Injured people are scattered from one end of the ship to the other. Some lay unconscious from being slammed onto deck plates, or struck by falling objects. Many others remain where there are, cradling their bruised and battered bodies. Those who are able to walk, make their way to the ship’s medical facility, and quickly overwhelm the small staff present.

  Meanwhile, in the reactor control room, one anxious man still stands, albeit with bent knees, his hand clutches the circuit breaker. Sweat drips down his face, arms, and back. His mind races, imagining what is happening throughout the ship. Finally, he lets his fingers slip from the switch as a bedlam of alarms assault his senses. The nuclear reactors themselves, coped with the sudden pull of the alien gravity, their associated coo
ling systems, however, did not fare so well. Pipe work, which was never designed for such stresses, now lays cracked or buckled. Vital cooling fluids leak all over, and much of it is radioactive. Alarms sound as people evacuate quickly.

  Cindy slams her intercom symbol, and shouts over the countless alarms sounding on the bridge. “All departments are to provide damage and casualty reports immediately.” She looks over to George. “Well, we made into space in one piece, now let’s hope we can keep her together.” She tries to avoid watching the rotating star field before her as she faces forward again. It is making her quite nauseous.

  George, with his suit still connected to the Gamin terminal, suddenly receives a trajectory feed, seconds before a new alarm sounds on the bridge. A familiar metallic sounding voice accompanies the new alarm. His ear piece translates the words instantly, scaring him greatly. Disconnecting from the console, he turns to John and shouts. “Collision imminent!”

  Cindy gasps as the view before her is rapidly filled by a satellite. They are rotating toward it, and fast.

  Captain Thompson slams his hands onto the Gamin console, desperately searching for the right thruster controls. Finding them, he scans the data before him, and then makes a ‘gut’ decision.

  Thrusters fire from many parts of the spacecraft, slowly arresting her roll. The Terran, upside down, floats up and over the satellite, giving all on the bridge an extremely close-up view. As John completes the maneuver the alien voice ceases, as does one of the many alarms. “We’re okay,” reports John, as he continues to pilot the massive ship up and over the satellite. Could almost reach out and touch that one, he thinks, but he keeps that thought to himself.

  Everyone on the bridge heaves a collective sigh of relief. Unexpectedly, there is a resounding whir, everyone jumps as frayed nerves get pushed a bit further. Life support systems kick in. Once again thick foul smelling alien air is circulating throughout the ship. Virtually everyone curls their noses up at the pungent odor and heaviness of the atmosphere.