by Darren Beyer
“Prestart checklist, verify ready to proceed.” An automated voice from the cockpit came over the speaker.
“Computer override checklist.” Ernesto’s hands moved quickly as he flipped switches and turned dials.
The whine of the APUs powering up filled the rear of the cabin.
“Quito ground, Condor one-seven-four ready to taxi, orbital flight,” Ernesto announced hastily into his mic.
“Condor one-seven-four, Quito ground. Cleared to taxi to runway one-eight at delta seven via taxiway delta.”
“One-eight and delta seven via delta.”
The shuttle began rolling and quickly accelerated to taxi speed. It rapidly approached their assigned spot on the taxiway and staging point to enter the runway.
“Quito ground, Condor one-seven-four at delta and one-eight. Ready for takeoff.”
“Roger, Condor one-seven-four. Hold short and contact tower one-two-four point one-five.”
“Time to make some people angry.” Ernesto changed the comm to the tower frequency. “Roger, Quito Tower. Cleared for takeoff, Condor one-seven-four.”
Without stopping, the shuttle made a hard right turn onto the runway.
“Condor one-seven-four, you are not cleared for takeoff. Abort and exit runway at delta six immediately.”
With a crackling roar, the rocket suddenly ignited. The entire shuttle shook as the high-thrust engine accelerated them down the runway. The g forces pushed Mandi into her seat, and the open cockpit door slammed against the side bulkhead. Inside, she saw Grae struggling to strap into the cockpit’s jump seat. The shuttle rapidly gained speed, making every small bump in the runway feel like a pothole. Mandi swallowed hard, remembering the earlier takeoff she’d witnessed. Turning her head to look out the side window, she caught sight of a white van speeding across the tarmac.
“Grae!” Mandi cried out, pointing.
Grae looked back to her and quickly leaned forward to peer out the cockpit window. The shuttle and the white van accelerated on intersecting courses. As the van closed, Mandi saw the driver. Something was familiar about his sharp face and platinum blond hair. He didn’t bother angling the van for a taxiway, but plowed across the grass divider directly toward the shuttle. He was trying to crash into them!
Mandi braced for impact and heard Ernesto spit a curse in Spanish. Just as the van was about to hit, Ernesto yanked back on the control yoke, forcing the shuttle briefly off the runway. It barely skipped over the vehicle and its seemingly suicidal driver, before slamming hard back onto the pavement, bleeding critical speed. Mandi craned her neck to look out the window toward the end of the runway. A large black sign with a single white number 2 zipped past. A second or two later she saw another with the number 1. Outside, the pavement changed colors from the charcoal of the runway surface to the near black of the emergency overrun.
The shuttle shook violently as it left the relatively smooth surface for the blacktop. The overrun couldn’t be more than a couple of hundred meters long. Surprisingly calm, Mandi closed her eyes, gripped the arms of her seat and wondered whether there were Reed Dances in heaven.
An audible thump startled her, and the shaking ceased, leaving only the deafening rumble of the main engine. Almost imperceptibly, the shuttle’s nose rose as it gained barely enough altitude to clear the spaceport’s perimeter fence. Observers dove for cover as the shuttle roared low overhead. Then the stubby craft angled back just a few more degrees and rocketed away from the danger in its wake. Mere meters of emergency runway had saved them. Mandi put her face in her hands and let a long breath out through her fingers.
The ride out from Quito was bumpy. Only when they had cleared the building clouds and Ernesto transitioned to the scramjets did it smooth. Then Mandi’s situation began to set in. Grae was right—whoever was chasing her had enormous resources and motive. She peered out the window at the serenity of the deep blue sky and clouds falling away below. Tracing the horizon, she could almost see the curvature of the Earth. Her eyes fell gratefully on the wingtip of the shuttle and followed the leading edge to the massive scramjet, where smoke poured out of its upper nacelle. Smoke!
The copilot pushed his way out of the cockpit, and with a worried look made his way to the door of the rear cargo section. Moments later, he reemerged and made a beeline back to the front of the shuttle.
“Excuse me—”
“Not now, señorita.” He didn’t bother to make eye contact before the door slammed behind him.
Mandi began to wrestle with her harness. It wouldn’t give.
The cockpit door opened again, and again the copilot raced to the back of the shuttle.
When he reappeared, Mandi reached over with her good arm and grabbed him.
His mouth was tight with annoyance.
“We’ve got smoke coming out of the engine.” Mandi pointed.
The copilot leaned and glanced out of the window. “Señorita,” he said, straightening, his voice fearful, “that is the least of our worries.”
Chapter 26
Earth
Gregory Andrews waited in anger. The reporter whom Erik was after had ties to AIC, he knew, but Andrews’ spy network was tight. That someone could actually hurt him or his plans grated on him. In a rare loss of temper, Andrews slammed his desk so hard that his assistant raced in from the outer office with alarm on her face, her tidy 1950s-style hairdo slightly askew.
“Go away.” Andrews took a deep breath, and his face settled. “I don’t need you.”
A hesitant smile crossed her face as she quietly retreated, softly shutting the door.
Andrews sat in silence, contemplating contingencies on contingencies.
A buzz sounded from his comm, and he stared at it for a second before answering. “Give me good news, Erik.”
“I’m afraid I have little. We’ve got a bit of a mess, and it needs cleaning. The final contingency assets are on station. I need your go.”
Andrews closed his eyes.
“Sir?”
“Yes, Erik.” He paused. “You have your go.” Andrews opened his steely eyes.
Chapter 27
Earth
Mandi found the release to her harness and heaved herself out of her seat. She made her way to the cockpit door, where she cracked it and looked in on Grae and the pilots. Their attention was focused on a small screen in the instrument panel.
“There it is again.” Ernesto pointed to the screen. “Active mass sensor ping off our six—five thousand meters below, eighty kilometers out.”
“You’re sure it’s reading right?” Grae scrutinized the display.
“It is military grade. I paid quite a fee to acquire and install passive sensors on my fleet.”
Grae raised his eyebrow.
Ernesto shrugged. “In my work, it pays to know if someone is watching.”
The shuttle continued its slow climb on scramjets with all eyes glued to the sensor screen. The intermittent mass sensor signals grew steadily closer.
“It must be orbital.” Grae paused. “How far are we from the cargo station?”
“Seven-hundred seventy-three kilometers.”
“It’s a little early for this, but punch in five-one-zero-three to the transponder.”
Ernesto looked up, his own eyebrows raised.
“Trust me. Just do it.”
Ernesto’s stare lingered on Grae for an instant. He turned to the instrument panel and entered the code. “We are not due to fire the rocket for three-thousand meters in altitude. But enough fuel remains to reach orbit if we fire it now. Perhaps we can take our shadow by surprise?”
Grae gave a silent nod.
“You’d better get back.” He noticed Mandi.
“I want to know what’s happening.”
“You will. But you don’t want to know what sudden high-g will do to you if you’re unrestrained.”
No sooner had Mandi returned to her seat and strapped herself in, than the main engine fired, pinning her back. Almost immediately, alarm
s rang from the cockpit.
“We are lit up,” Ernesto said. “Active radar and mass sensor.”
“It’s a missile,” Grae barked.
“Muy rápido,” Angel chimed in. “Treinta segundos, no más.”
Mandi fought against the g forces to see into the cockpit, where Grae and Ernesto stared intently at the passive sensor screen.
“Can you go evasive?” Grae asked.
“These shuttles almost do not fly at all. Evasive is not in the flight manual, especially not at this altitude. I can do reaction thruster burns, nothing more.”
“¡Quince segundos!”
Suddenly the alarms went silent. Grae and Ernesto looked at each other, then back to the screen.
“Infrared,” Angel announced. “Y un otro.”
“Those are heat blooms,” Grae exclaimed. “Explosions.” He turned to Ernesto. “Are we at orbital velocity yet?”
“Yes, but not enough to reach the cargo station.”
“Shut it down, Ernesto. Keep us in this orbit.”
Mandi felt as though she were thrown forward, as the engine ceased its burn. The weightlessness of space was a stark contrast to the one and a half g’s of the main engine. She fumbled with her harness, unlatching it more quickly this time. She’d been in zero g before, while traveling for a story on lunar hotels, but the sensation surprised her nonetheless. She kicked and swung her good arm, trying to move toward the cockpit. Finally she stopped, floating for a moment to gather her thoughts. She used her legs to push gently off her seat, propelling herself forward.
Hanging onto the cockpit door with her good hand, she stuck her head in. “What the hell happened?”
“You have a guardian angel, Señorita Nkosi.” Ernesto turned to her and grinned. He glanced sideways at Grae. “And a devil too, perhaps.”
“I don’t understand—”
“Look ahead of us.” Grae pointed. “Just above the horizon.”
“I don’t see—”
For little more than an instant, a tiny blue glow appeared.
“See that?”
“Yeah. What are we looking at?”
“Keep watching.”
They all concentrated on the area through the center window. Periodically more brief glows appeared. They were becoming larger. Soon, Mandi could make out a shape. No, she corrected herself, more of an area that blocked out the stars. There was something out there. As the minutes, passed a shape did indeed begin to form, but it wasn’t until it seemed they were right on top of it that she could make out that it was a ship. It was long and sleek, its faceted sides graphite gray, clearly absorbing more light than they reflected. The most pronounced feature of the ship was a large, flat ring encircling the aft end, with two massive engines at the three and nine o’clock positions. Underneath, a long barrel ran most the length of the ship.
“What the hell is that?” Mandi’s mouth hung open.
“I will like to know the same thing,” Ernesto was equally in awe.
“That, my friends,” Grae said, smiling, “is Dauntless.”
The faceted gray ship gleamed against the black sky, its elegant lines all but screaming stealth.
II
Earthdate: September 24, 2108
Chapter 28
Sol System
The deep orange-gray soil and light orange sky created a monochrome backdrop to a series of stark-white facilities nestled on the sloped grade. A single large facility topped the industrial complex. Down slope, three large biodomes dominated the scene, translucent rounded shapes of flexible plastic supported by a complex mesh of crisscrossing alloy girders. Below them, an array of massive dish antennas pointed skyward. In front of one, a rover and two suited workers appeared, dwarfed by the scale of the facility.
Suddenly, a blinding flash washed the scene in a bright white light. For a long second, the screen remained blank, before the complex again became visible. The two workers were bounding up the slope toward the nearest biodome, as a massive cloud of dust and debris rolled into view at impossibly high speed. The instant before the cloud engulfed the workers, they stopped and turned toward it, seemingly resigned to their fate. The wave slammed hard into the biodomes. The massive structures swayed under the force, momentarily withstanding the torrent, until one after another their coverings ripped away. Like huge kites, the decimated biodomes dragged their structural girders along with the maelstrom upslope into the main facility. They impacted at high speed and tore through the walls, spinning their debris into the mix.
The screen went blank.
A visibly shaken anchor replaced the blankness on the screen above the banner headline: “Disaster on Mars.” Her uncombed auburn hair and hastily applied make-up showed that she had come on the set hurriedly.
“You are looking at, obviously, a very disturbing shot. This footage is just in to GNN from the mining colony of MRG Arsia on Mars. According to this footage and unconfirmed reports, the MRG Arsia facility was seriously damaged this morning by an unexplained explosion.”
Behind the news anchor, a still frame captured the dwarfed and blurry workers turning to face the cloud of debris as it swept down upon them.
“We at GNN Center are working to determine the cause and extent of the catastrophe on Mars. We go now to our correspondent Craig Gore, live on the ground at MRG headquarters in Atlanta, Georgia. Craig?”
“MRG Arsia is a mineral extraction facility situated on the Arsia Mons volcano on Mars. Parent company Metal Resources Group is based here in Atlanta. We have not been able to get official comment, but we have learned that an emergency message was transmitted to the operations control center of MRG, containing the footage we’ve just shown. All we know right now is that there has been some sort of devastating explosion inside the caldera. Whether it was an eruption or some other event, we do not know.”
“Craig, is an eruption a possibility?”
“MRG Arsia is situated within the caldera of Arsia Mons, so, yes, if an eruption occurred, it would generate a debris cloud like we saw on the footage—”
The headline banner changed to “Nuclear Space Disaster.”
“I’m sorry Craig, I have to cut in. We have breaking news coming from multiple sources that the explosion on Mars is the result of a ship-borne nuclear detonation.”
The screen changed to another camera angle down into the sweeping caldera. Barely visible, a small artificially highlighted dot plummeted toward the ground. Moments before impact, the entire screen went white. The camera’s visual receptors had been blinded by the massive energy output of the explosion.
The anchor’s face went white. “I don't know if you could see the spacecraft falling. According to our technical experts, systems or electronics failure might possibly have put a craft on a course toward the colony.” Her voice steadied. “If you’re just joining us, we understand a nuclear explosion has rocked the colony of MRG Arsia on Mars. There are no official reports of injuries. Stay tuned for more news on GNN.”
Chapter 29
Sol System
Mandi floated in her borrowed uniform, her arms crossed, indignation radiating toward Grae, who hovered just outside her berth. The ship’s med-bay had treated her injured arm, and although it still had an annoying itch emanating from deep within the bone, it was now usable. She wasn’t sure which was more irritating: her arm driving her crazy, or being stuck in this tiny room.
“You won’t let me out?” Mandi asked curtly.
Grae shook his head.
“I have to stay in this prison cell?”
Grae nodded, smiling.
“I didn’t expect to be kept captive.”
Grae chuckled. “Look, Mandi, you can end this right now. All I need is a signed Non-Disclosure Agreement. Without that—I’m sorry—you’re not getting past this door.”
Mandi flattened her mouth and looked at the ceiling, the same ceiling she’d been looking at for weeks. She knew starship quarters were cramped, but this berth was the size of a small bunk, and she�
�d seen nothing outside of the seemingly shrinking room for far too long. With just barely enough space to float upright, she couldn’t fully stretch without hitting a wall. And she’d always wondered how toilets worked in zero-g, but this one was a Rube Goldberg device. She needed to get out. Her only time outside had been the trip to get her arm taken care of, and she’d been blindfolded the entire way between the med-bay and her berth.
“Your NDA is overly strict, Grae. You know that. You want me to go off-record about any- and everything that happens to me or that I learn about Dauntless, onboard Dauntless, even escaping from Earth to Dauntless. For a journalist, that’s a death sentence.”
Grae raised his eyebrow and waited.
Mandi crossed her arms again. “So if I sign, you’ll let me out of here,” she said after a minute, a hint of claustrophobia crawling up the back of her neck.
“Free rein on all unrestricted areas of the ship.”
“If I spend one more minute cooped up, I’ll lose my mind.” She uncrossed her arms and looked at him. “All right, get me the hell out of here. But I’m ruling out the clause that prevents me from disclosing what I learn that doesn’t directly involve AIC.”
Grae leaned to the side, speaking softly on his comm.
Mandi glanced around at all corners of the room, as though she hadn’t already explored every centimeter. No Velcro patches, handles, or toe straps were on the smooth, Spartan walls. And she found it odd that the door to her berth was actually a ‘door’ and not a ‘hatch.’
“The captain gave his okay.” Grae blinked to flick off his comm. “Sign the agreement on the doorway comm, then let’s get you out of there.”