by S. H. Jucha
“Once the shuttle is underway,” Harbour continued. “We’ll have a long-range vid pickup trained on the ship until we lose sight of it in the atmosphere. Throughout the mission, we’ll have the audio pickup from the pilot’s cabin. We’re awaiting the outcome of this incredible event and hoping for the safe return of our people.”
Across Pyre, those who were able were glued to monitors to watch and wait.
In the negotiations room, Lise stood in a huff, slapping the back of her chair. Hate for Jessie poured from her eyes. She was on the verge of saying something, when she suddenly spun around and marched out of the room.
Idrian and Rufus glanced toward Dorelyn, who nodded toward the door. As the men exited, Dorelyn gave Jessie the merest of smiles. “It’s been a pleasure watching you work, Captain,” Dorelyn said. “I’m looking forward to the next time we cross paths.” Her smile grew brighter, but her eyes denied that it was meant to be taken as friendly. She nodded to Henry and Liam and then followed the others out of the room.
Emerson had no intention of being left alone in the room with those arrayed against him. He hurried to follow Dorelyn out the door.
“Is it my imagination,” Henry asked, “or did Dorelyn Gaylan just threaten you, Jessie?”
“That’s a whole different kind of family head,” Liam added. “A type we haven’t seen before.”
“Agreed,” Jessie said. “I wonder if there are others like her.”
Birdie picked up the image of the shuttle, as it rounded the YIPS. She focused the long-range vid on it. For the Pyreans, it was their first look at the tremendous size of the device, which the engineers had built. The intravertor and sled appeared too great a mass for the sleek, new shuttle. If the ship were to descend into the atmosphere, gravity might drag it to its death.
A foolish patron in the Starlight went so far as to offer to take bets that the shuttle wouldn’t make its return trip. Two patrons left his table, and an attendant pretended to be bumped and spilled a drink in his lap.
On Harbour’s cue, Birdie cut to the shuttle’s audio feed. Audiences were treated to long silences and short statements as Danny and Claudia constantly checked and rechecked their systems. Then quiet reigned for nearly three hours. Work in the domes, stations, and aboard ships ground to a halt, while people listened intently for the next sounds.
Eventually, Claudia broke the silence, saying, “Inversion point in two minutes.”
“Confirmed,” Danny said. “Standby for rotation.”
“Countdown’s on the panel,” said Claudia.
Danny watched the readout run down to zero. His finger hovered over a single icon on his panel. It was programmed to smoothly flip the shuttle end over end. Danny missed flying by the joystick, as he did the old shuttle. However, under these circumstances, with gravity at play and a heavy load attached to the undercarriage, he was happy to let the engineers’ programming fly the ship.
At zero, Danny touched the icon. “Turning over,” he announced.
Claudia monitored their change in trajectory. When the shuttle finished its rotation, she said, “Inversion complete. We’re on course.”
On monitors, Pyreans and Jatouche watched the image of the shuttle fade as it entered the thickened atmosphere.
Once again, Harbour’s voice was added over the broadcast. “Let me explain the reason the shuttle must drop far into the atmosphere. The intravertor has a swath of vanes, which spin around the device’s middle at high speed. They serve two major functions. The first is to ensure the intravertor descends in a vertical position. To make this happen, the shuttle must drop the device, while standing on its tail. This allows the intravertor time to deploy the vanes before it begins to tumble. Once the vanes are in motion, they will keep the intravertor in a vertical orientation. The vanes won’t halt the descent of the intravertor. They’re programmed to allow the intravertor to strike the ground with enough force to penetrate several meters.”
When Harbour ended her explanation, there was no word from the pilot’s cabin. The audience strained their ears. Then the distinct sound of a kiss was heard and a voice said, “That’s in case we don’t make it back.”
“Shut down engines,” Danny said.
“Engines offline,” Claudia reported.
“Prepare the intravertor,” Danny ordered.
Claudia tapped an icon on her primary panel. It set in motion a series of events. The intravertor’s generator came online, and system checks were run by the device’s computer. Claudia’s icon turned from red to green, and she reported, “All systems go. Intravertor ready to deploy.”
“Release the device,” Danny ordered. His voice was steady, but the pitch was little higher. The shuttle continued to drop toward the surface, accelerating from the increasing pull of gravity and the engines offline.
“Intravertor away,” Claudia said. Her voice showed stress too.
The sled mechanism launched the intravertor past the aft end of the shuttle to enable it to clear the shuttle’s engines when they fired. To ensure there was clearance, Danny used up some precious seconds, crabbing the shuttle sideways with his attitude jets.
“The intravertor is clear,” Claudia announced, a little loudly.
Danny called out, “Firing engines. Pushing them to one hundred percent.”
Everywhere, Pyreans and Jatouche were frozen, waiting for the next report. When it came, it wasn’t good news.
“We’re decelerating, but still descending,” Claudia reported. She was monitoring their program, which reported their altitude in comparison to a red, no-return line on a graph.
There was a short silence. Then Claudia called out, “Danny, we’ve got two point three minutes to end our descent before we’ll be too deep in the atmosphere to climb out.”
“Paranoia is a beautiful thing,” Danny mumbled to himself. Then loudly, he called out, “Lose the sled. Fire the bolts.”
It had been Danny’s idea to ensure that the shuttle could shed the weight of the sled, if necessary. The engineers said that their calculations proved that it wouldn’t be necessary and that Danny was worrying for no reason. However, Danny persisted in his request, while the engineers stood firm.
It took Harbour to resolve the argument, which she did by saying, “Danny, the engineers are convinced of their science. So, I suggest Claudia and you sit out the flight and let them deliver the device.” She gazed over the line of engineers, adding, “Which two of you are volunteering?” When no one stepped forward, she said, “Then, since it’s the butts of Danny and Claudia on the line, I suggest you stop arguing and heed the pilots’ request.”
“Sled’s away,” Claudia reported. “Descent is slowing. Approaching point of no return in one and a half minutes.”
“Pushing engines to one hundred ten percent,” Danny said, the strain evident in his voice.
“Engine temperatures rising, but holding within constraints,” Claudia said, keeping a close eye on the panel’s readout. Part of her mind was screaming that it was a ridiculous thing to do, but she couldn’t help herself. In that moment, that was her duty, and her years of experience were grounding her.
The audiences held their collective breaths. Many had set their comm units to follow the shuttle’s countdown. They shared their readouts with others, when the time passed and continued to grow. Over the monitors, they heard Danny murmuring to the shuttle, as if it was his lover. He was urging her to climb, whispering endearing words to her.
Claudia’s excited voice broke into the clear. “Zero descent speed.” Moments later, she added, “We’re accelerating.”
Humans and aliens cheered, clapped, hugged, and slapped backs. Noisiest of all were the spacers in the Miner’s Pit.
“One hundred knots and still accelerating,” Claudia announced, after a while.
“Powering back to ninety percent,” Danny replied. The relief in his voice was obvious. “We’re coming home, Captain,” he added and reached out a hand to Claudia, who grabbed it and held it tightly.
Audiences were unable to turn away from the broadcast. They waited for confirmation of two events. The first of which came when the Belle’s long-range vid picked up the shuttle, as a speck, breaking though the atmospheric haze.
In an unusual display for human and alien, Harbour rested an arm across Tacticnok’s shoulders, and the shorter alien encircled the captain’s waist with her arm.
During the shuttle’s venture to the planet and into the atmosphere, the YIPS assembly bay was sealed, and the crew had stripped off their suits. Drigtik witnessed the leaders’ embrace and nudged Gatnack, who turned to observe it.
Gatnack responded, “Relationships are made in this way, my young engineer. Trials that test bonds prove an alliance’s strength.”
Harbour picked up the broadcast’s narration, which audiences were hoping she would do. “Our shuttle has safely returned to space but will probably need an overhaul after that flight. Next on the broadcast are the key engineers responsible for the deployment of this device. There were tens of engineers and techs working on it, at any one time. But the primary responsibilities fell to two of our new friends, Gatnack and Drigtik.”
The Jatouche engineers perked up at the mention of their names, which they heard through the broadcasting monitor. Further enthralling them was the appearance of their images.
“In addition,” Harbour continued, “three human engineers, Olivia Harden, Bryan Forshaw, and Pete Jennings, were the primary administrators for the YIPS personnel.”
Olivia held her breath when her image appeared. It was taken from the healthy side of her face. Then she turned forward, and the image held for a moment before it changed to that of Pete and Bryan. Olivia chuckled. She realized she was too proud of their achievement to care about her appearance.
“Olivia, over to you,” Harbour said.
“Thank you, Captain,” Olivia replied.
Birdie had managed the audio switching without missing a beat. “I love this,” the bridge crew heard her say.
“We’re receiving signals from the intravertor, which indicates its status,” Olivia explained, and Birdie picked up the vid imagery from Pete’s comm unit, which was focused on the engineers’ panels. “Power for the intravertor is supplied by a Jatouche generator. We know that the vanes are deployed and revolving at an incredible speed. The device’s descent is slowing, and it appears the intravertor will reach a safe implant speed. It’s designed to strike the ground and bury itself a few meters deep. Then metal tendrils, located in the lowest section, will extend.”
While the engineers waited for touchdown, Olivia explained the mechanisms by which the intravertor would operate. It was obvious to Pyreans that humans might have supplied the shuttle and some parts of the device, but the ingenious working of this incredible invention belonged to the Jatouche.
“Impact,” Olivia reported, interrupting her running lecture. “Wait one. We have a signal. It’s strong. The tendrils have been activated and are deploying.”
Everyone was forced to wait for the next phase to be reported. Three hours later, Olivia came online, saying, “The tendrils are fully deployed. They’ve located numerous hot pockets within the surface. The generator is now being driven by this heat. Phase three is complete.”
This time there was only a slight delay before Olivia announced, “The vanes have rotated and are fixed in their new orientation.”
Each of Olivia’s next reports were spaced a few minutes apart: “They’re revolving again. Rotation has reached programmed rpm. The filter is reporting intake of gases and particulate matter. It will take a little while before we see output. According to the Jatouche, the intravertor struck one of the planet’s greater hotspots, which is promising.”
An hour and a half later, Olivia was online, once again. “The infuser has been activated. It’s solidifying the particulate matter and selected, unwanted gases into pellets. These pellets should … yes, the pellets are flying. They’re flying!”
Olivia’s jubilant celebration echoed out of monitors around Pyre. When she could regain control, she said in a gasping breath, “For the planet, that’s the final phase of the intravertor. It’s operating successfully. We’re now moving to the panel that displays the signals from the YIPS microwave receiver. The Jatouche anticipated that the odds were slim that the intravertor would find a hot enough surface pocket to generate sufficient excess energy to transmit a microwave signal through the atmosphere. Sorry, everyone, but we’re waiting again.”
It wasn’t long before Olivia said, “There it is, weak but constant. With one intravertor planted in the right place, the YIPS will be receiving about four percent of the power it needs to run line three. If you care to invest in the planet’s resurrection, I suggest you donate more coin to the Pyrean Green account. We’re going to need more intravertors unless everyone wants to wait a lot more generations for this happen.”
-44-
Heroes
Knowing Danny would return to the Belle, Harbour, Tacticnok, and Jaktook hurried to catch a ride on the next flight of the colony ship’s old shuttle from the YIPS.
When the Belle loomed in Danny’s slender, forward view window, he heaved a sigh of relief.
“The first time I saw this ship,” Danny said, “I was in Harbour’s care. She’d rescued me from a dark place, and I was feeling hopeful once again. Seeing this old girl now brings back memories. For a moment there, in Pyre’s atmosphere, when we passed the engineer’s no return estimate, I thought I’d never see her again.”
“I never had much thought for this ship one way or the other,” Claudia replied. “My life has always been the stations and mining ships. When the captains teamed up, it seemed to open a whole new world. What spacer wouldn’t enjoy visiting a cantina and a having a nice cabin for a sleepover, while working at Emperion? But, after today, my life will never be the same, and I’ll always think of this ship as home, whether I’m working here or not.”
“You will be, Claudia. I’m not stupid enough to think I can fly this shuttle by myself. The captains just have to approve your transfer, if you want the job,” Danny said.
“Oh, for the love of Pyre, are you kidding? Of course, I want the job,” Claudia declared. “Wait! Are we going to be making more intravertor drops?”
“What do you think?” Danny asked.
“I think I’ve some more suggestions for the engineers,” Claudia retorted.
“Me too,” Danny agreed, chuckling. He guided the shuttle into one of the colony ship’s bays. Once air pressure was normal, Danny and Claudia trooped down the gangway. They could see faces peering at them through the airlock windows, but the pilots kept them waiting. They walked slowly around the shuttle pointing to hull areas and discussing the damage. The pristine hull coat was scoured, as if the shuttle had seen years of rough service. When they were done, they exited the bay through the airlock.
Danny managed to say, “Captain, sorry, I dinged up our new shuttle,” before Harbour threw her arms around him and smothered him with a wave of joy that embarrassed Danny.
“I never managed to put that expression on his face,” Claudia quipped. However, when Harbour gave her the same treatment, Claudia’s expression turned goofy, and she said, “Okay. That was almost worth risking my life to feel.”
“Congratulations. We’re extremely proud of you,” Harbour said, continuing to share her feelings of admiration. “I think you have a welcome party waiting for you in the cantina.”
“Perfect,” Claudia chimed. “Danny, you can buy me that drink you owe me.”
Along the corridor, the pilots were congratulated by spacers, empaths, and residents. The gauntlet of empaths was an incredible experience for them. They were inundated by shades of supportive emotions, flooding through them.
“I feel drunk already,” Claudia said to Danny after they cleared the line of well-wishers.
“It’s a heady experience,” Danny agreed, the grin so wide on his face that it was starting to hurt.
The pi
lots entered the cantina to a heroes’ welcome. They were greeted in an assortment of ways and urged toward the bar. Spacers hoisted Danny and Claudia up to sit them atop the bar. Drinks were pressed in their hands, and, when Danny pulled his comm unit to pay, he was booed.
“You two are drinking for free this evening,” Ituau yelled over the din. “Put your device away, Danny.”
Claudia leaned over to project her voice into Danny’s ear. “This doesn’t get you off the hook,” she said. “You still owe me one.”
Dingles’ whistle broke over the noise, and the cantina quieted. “Our esteemed first mate has a question,” he said. He flourished his hand toward Ituau.
In a loud voice so the entire cantina could hear, Ituau said, “We were wondering which one of you kissed the other. My bet is on Claudia, but others think Danny did it.”
Claudia raised a hand, ducking her head in embarrassment. A chorus of laughter and jeers accompanied her admission.
“In all fairness, I thought we were going to die,” Claudia shouted back. “Besides, I had to find some way to buck my pilot up. He looked like he was going to fold under the pressure.”
When the crowd guffawed and booed Claudia, she relented. “Okay, it might have been for other reasons,” she admitted, grinning, and the crowd cheered and stomped their approval of that answer.
While the festivities were underway in the cantina, Harbour strolled slowly through the Belle’s corridors with Tacticnok. There were many hints shared by the royal daughter that gave Harbour an idea of the worlds to which the Jatouche had journeyed, but there had never been a solid overview.
“Tacticnok, are the members of the alliance equal?”
“By the charter that each race has acknowledged, we are, but some are more equal than others,” Tacticnok replied cryptically.
Harbour’s impression, given to her by the expression on Tacticnok’s face, was that the Jatouche were far from foremost in the alliance.