“That is exactly why I am here.”
“I know. Nobody leaves Edwards that doesn’t want the moon.”
“Yeah, that was a great place, but the pilots were what really made it special.”
“Major, I have to ask, please just ignore me if you wish though. How did you get the Silver Star?” He points to my chest.
“In Afghanistan, I saved my wingman from a missile, but it got me instead.”
“You were shot down?”
I nod. I can see he wants to ask about it more, but I really don’t feel like talking about it so much.
“Then I got a reprieve from the brass, and that’s how I wound up at Edwards.”
He shakes his head. “I have a hard time picturing you with those grizzled old test pilots.”
“They did too, at first. Then I showed them that I could fly nearly as well as them, and they took me in like their long lost daughter.”
It gets a chuckle from him. “May I ask sir, how old are you?”
“I’m twenty seven. How old are you Lieutenant Doyle?”
“Twenty six.”
I nod. He seems confused by how I certainly can’t have time in grade to be a Major. “I joined the Academy right when I just turned seventeen. My dad is a general with SAC, and he had me flying jets since I was thirteen. So I got some help with some folks bucking for me. It’s not fair, but it was what I had available to me.” I shrug and take another bite.
“Maybe, but they don’t hand out Silver Stars to just anybody Major.” He seems okay with it.
After chow he stops me by the ready room to hopefully meet some of the other pilots in our squadron, known as the Double N’s. When I ask what that stands for, the Lieutenant tells me that it means ‘The No Names.’ Right away I see that the ready room and staff offices in the same building are bustling with work. Everyone is very professional looking and squared away, the pilots’ flight suits are a new type to me, and I can’t help but stare. The Lieutenant takes me and introduces me to our flight leader.
“Colonel Ham, this is your new pilot, Major Romero sir.”
“Thank you Doyle.” He looks me up and down, and freezes his eyes on my chest, on my medal. His eyes widen a little, and his brows raise. “Welcome to the Double N’s Major Romero.” He extends his hand to shake, with a warm smile.
“Thank you sir. I look forward to serving with you.” I shake his hand.
“We can sure use your help. Things are ramping up like crazy around here now. Get through that ground school ASAP Major, we need to get you qualified on our next gen bird right away.”
“I will sir.”
I am taken back to the BOQ and I shower, and rest before evening chow. They have shuttles that will take us anywhere on base, well almost anywhere I suppose, or we can call for a car and it will be here in minutes. It is all kind of surreal to me, here I am at that secret base I’d wondered about so much. That craft I saw moving so damn fast those years ago is what I am here to fly. At least I sure hope so. Those flight suits the squadron pilots were wearing make me think I will be, they looked to have a helmet sealing ring around the collar, a very small one, but it was there. Those were pressure suits, but not nearly as big and bulky as the one I had to wear when flying that wonderful Blackbird.
The first day of ground school is pure classroom material, and there is only one other pilot there with me. Our instructor blows our minds so easily and quickly. Not to mention repeatedly.
“Your first craft will be the ARC one twelve. The designation stands for Advanced Reconnaissance Craft, but this is not its true purpose. That is subterfuge. Our true design purpose is a long range transport craft. There have been a number of craft with this false designation, so do not become confused.”
This bums me out to no end, a transport? I see the other pilot also has a frown.
“The ARC one twelve is an interplanetary transport craft powered by a unique propulsion system that uses gravitational force to propel itself.”
“Excuse me sir. Did you just say interplanetary?” I blurt out.
“Yes, your missions will predominantly be extraterrestrial. Now in a gravity well the ARC can utilize this strong field to propel itself with unlimited range. If you are far enough outside of a gravity well; a special fuel driven drive system takes over, though this does not have unlimited range. Now the biggest difference from standard aircraft is that the ARC does not use airflow lift to fly. It uses gravity disruptors if you will, though the whole theory behind this uses many terms for this effect. Your main concerns will be far different that in standard aircraft.”
My mind is reeling, I’m going into space!
He goes on to explain the basic drive functions on the craft, and how the controls are integrated so that we are somewhat familiar with the layout already. Our new birds are vertical takeoff and landing capable as well.
“Excuse me sir, just how fast are these things if we are escaping orbit.” The other pilot asks, he’s a Captain maybe a year or two older than me.
“They are capable of a maximum speed of Mach twenty six in a gravity well, but outside the well, using their fuel powered drive, they max out around a hundred and twenty thousand miles per hour.”
I have a dry lump in my throat suddenly.
“We don’t go into orbit with them, unless we wish to, but they just defy gravity and fly where you want them to. Real fast. Escape velocity is a term of the past. Acceleration effects are heavily negated by the special hull material, meaning these babies turn on a dime, and at Mach twenty plus, also they have hardly any air resistance.”
I’m trying to swallow, but I can’t.
He goes on to explain how simple the controls are, and that we still have a joystick for directional control. By the time the day is done, I am itching real bad to get into one of these super rockets sled, or gravity sleds… whatever. That night I eat alone, and go to sleep early, ready for the next day.
Today they take us to see our new craft, and to sit in them and learn the controls with another pilot explaining it all to us. The bird looks like an elongated shuttle from the TV show Star Trek, and it is gleaming white. The pilot makes it so easy for us to understand, that I am ready to go now! Still I have one more day of ground school, but then our instructor pilot tells us that the next lessons will be in the dead of night, when they fly. Usually never in the day.
That next night at oh one hundred they wheel the bird onto the tarmac, and our instructor pilot tells us he is going to take us on a flight to show us the operation of the ARC. We are in our band new custom pressure suits with custom helmets, and we strap into the other two seats in the cock pit. He simply activates the gravity drive and we just lift straight up. Then he angles our nose up and he pushes the forward throttles just a bit. We zip right into the night faster than I ever thought possible, but I am not being crushed into my seat by the acceleration. Out the windscreen I see the Earth drop away from us and become a whole ball floating in space. He takes us way out, at least it is to me, and then he lets each of us have a go at the controls. I find it so damn simple to operate, because we are not really flying, though that seems to take some of the fun out of it. Being in space kind of makes up for it however.
We come back down to the base at Mach seven, and then our pilot stops us smoothly and quickly just above the tarmac, and we float there. He deactivates the engines, and we still just float there. Then he smiles as he lowers the gear, explaining that the hull itself is gravity buoyant itself.
That next night we make our first flights, with each of us piloting from departure to return. We are announced as being qualified, and told the next day we will begin our regular duty cycle starting at fifteen hundred hours until oh three hundred. A twelve hour shift, meaning what the CO said was right on the money. Sleep and eat when you can.
I intend to send an e-mail to my folks, and both my old squadron families, but there is no Wi-Fi on base, except in the secure server exchange. We have to use their secure server to send anyt
hing outside, and they heavily censor it first. I am told that my electronic signature on the e-mails will show my location as Edwards, where I am supposed to say that I still am. I let everyone know that I am alive and doing fine. Any responses to me will be printed out and delivered to me ASAP, after the censors look at them first. I don’t mind, it’s just the price I have to pay to go to space.
The next afternoon as I start my duty cycle our flight leader takes me down to the administration section of the base, underground. It is huge, with wide corridors filled with people going about their business.
“Regardless of what you see down here Romero, keep quiet.”
“Yes sir.”
Just down the corridor I see something that makes me stop in my tracks. A tall gray skinned alien in a lab coat is walking towards us, holding a data pad and using it. He just walks past as I gawk in fright.
The colonel pats my shoulder. “Shhh.” He puts his finger to his lips.
Good night, what have I gotten into? Aliens? They are for real… I just saw one. Holy crap! The Colonel leads me to the admin office for the squadron liaisons. Here he introduces me to several officers who will be organizing the payloads we will carry, and as such I will be having frequent business with them. They welcome me and tell me they are here for any problems with manifestos that I might have.
As we leave the Colonel shows me there are several cafeterias in the sprawling underground base.
“So I am cleared for this underground base then, right?”
“This level. Don’t worry, you simply won’t have access to any areas that are restricted.”
“I’m glad you had just warned me prior sir.”
“I almost forgot. That has happened before, and the screaming in terror that follows.”
My mission that night at twenty three hundred, is to follow another ARC, with each of our craft loaded with a variety of metal storage bins. I follow at unbelievable speeds, and we head to the dark side of the moon. Most the trip we have the throttles pegged, and it amazes me how fast we are going. It takes us just over two hours to get there, and around the back side I see that there is a fairly large construction project going on in orbit. A station that looks like a bunch of modular chambers stacked together is at the center of all the activity. We are cleared to dock at the station and a crew comes aboard to unload the cargo. I am invited with the pilot of the other craft into the station for a cup of coffee.
“Welcome, to NET nine Major.” An older Lieutenant Colonel hands me a sealed tube that contains the coffee. We are weightless, but our boots have small magnets that help us stay on a surface if we choose. I kind of like just floating there myself. I sip the coffee from the tube, and it is nice and warm, not too hot. It’s good coffee too.
“Thanks. How long have you been up here sir?”
“Oh almost two months this cycle. I’m almost due for some stand down time.”
“What are you building?”
“The actual station. This is just the temporary workers quarters.”
“Oh, this is a pretty good sized station itself.”
“Wait until you see the actual NET nine. It will be a monster.”
“Nice. Well we are going to need to haul some supplies then, that’s for sure.” I smile.
“We’ll keep you busy.”
We have our coffee, and then we bid them a good night.
The trip home goes by quickly, and we land just after oh three hundred. We both get some chow, and then I go to hit my bunk. It was quite an eventful day. The next night I again go back to the dark side of the moon making a supply run. As I am doing the trickiest part of all the flying of these things; the actual docking, I see a movement out the windscreen down over the moon. A quick glance and I see a damn flying saucer scooting over the surface. My attention is forced right back to my docking maneuver, and I make a soft connection. Then I look for the saucer again and see it disappear out of sight. I go into to have coffee with the Colonel again, as the other pilot told me he really likes the visits.
“I just saw a damn flying saucer over the moon as I was docking.”
The Colonel nods. “Yup, they have a base down there on the dark side.”
“They who?”
“Them… you know.”
“Aliens again?”
“I prefer to call them extraterrestrials, as they do too.”
“So, are they okay with us being up here above their base?”
“Hell, they suggested it. Look you’re new, and since you are flying in the same space as them; you do have a need to know. So ask away.”
“Who are they?”
“They call themselves the Donox Legacy. Though there seem to be a bunch of different races operating under this general banner.”
“So, are they helping us?”
“Yes, what they can. They have some rules about that though. Like they can’t just give us advanced technology, but they have let us get a hold of some of it so we could possibly figure it out ourselves.”
“What do they want in return?”
“Good question. So far all they have desired is to study us.”
“Rats in a maze?”
“Perhaps.”
I shrug. “Give me that cheese then.”
That earns a good chuckle.
Five days a week I make one trip a night to the back of the moon. I start to see the massive frame of the station taking shape, and it is going to be big alright! Once a week we make passenger runs rotating out some of the space steel workers, and project management team. The rest of our payloads are as much damn cargo as we can cram into the ARC, or shuttle, as it is commonly called.
Within three months a new much larger shuttle is introduced to the squadron. It can carry ten times the cargo as the small shuttle can. This quickly accelerates the pace of the project, and the huge circular frame is almost connected on the ends by now. As soon as the circle is completed they’ll start building the hull around it.
It isn’t long until the old living quarters are dismantled, and used for parts of the station, as pre-planned. Now the workers and staff all live in the small completed section of the mammoth space station hull. Next they even have some of the squadron take quarters on the station, for making pilots available full time on location. Of course I volunteer for this, as I love being in space, weightless. They will eventually provide artificial gravity to the station by spinning the wheel when it is much more complete, and letting centrifugal force do its thing.
I get along very well with my new family, and though we are all representing our best professional effort at all times, we are still all quite excited to be part of this amazing project. My wing Leader likes me, as I always volunteer for any extra duty. This is my life, there is no other. My e-mails home and to my old families have diminished some, as I as so damn busy all they time. They understand, as I apologize every time for the tardy reply. I just want to see the project through. Since my first sighting of a flying saucer, I have seen them occasionally again over the dark side of the moon. I wonder what they really want from us.
Just as the giant hull is about half way built, I am told that I should take some furlough, as the next opportunity to do so may be long in coming. So I fly back to Area 51 in my small shuttle, and from there I have to take the contractor flight on Janet airlines to Las Vegas. Then I jump through all the security hoops to catch a commercial flight to Omaha. I call dad from the airport, and he comes to pick me up right away.
“Why didn’t you call from Edwards baby? I would have flown out to get you.”
“Oh it just would have been a pain in the ass, and you deserve to enjoy your free time, not having to come chasing after me.”
“Well why didn’t you just borrow a bird then?”
“I just didn’t feel like it.”
He knows I’m lying, I can tell by the look on his face.
When we get home and he gets my bags from the trunk, he stops in his tracks, looking at the luggage check in tag from the airpo
rt that says ‘Las Vegas / Omaha’ on it. He looks up at me with a curious look.
“You didn’t?”
I nod with a giggle.
“We need to talk baby.” He gets a big smile.
Even though dad sure doesn’t have a need to know. I’ll tell him, alone, because he is my daddy and I can’t wait to see his face.
Mom is all over me with hugs and kisses, and we go in to sit and talk while she finishes cooking a big meal for us.
“So how is that country club for old fighter jocks, as your father calls it?”
“I love it there mom. I have room service and concierge service. Spa, pools, tennis courts, and any wonderful old jet I want to fly.”
“I thought you test flew new airplanes?” She asks.
“I do mom, but just once in a while. The other flying is for hours, so I stay fresh.”
“For fun is more like it.” Dad quips. “So what’s the neatest old bird you get to fly?”
“The Blackbird is my favorite dad.” I grin proudly.
“No kidding? Our little girl’s been to the edge of space baby. What do you think about that?”
“I don’t like it George, it sounds dangerous.”
If they only knew.
Later after dad and I do dishes, he takes me into his home office, or den, and closes the door.
“So, you are having some real fun I bet.”
I laugh. “Okay, shoot dad. I’ll answer what I know.”
“Aliens?”
I nod.
“Damn…” he shakes his head. “Are they scary?”
I shake my head.
“Good. Flying saucers?”
I nod.
“Of course. They had to get here somehow. Have you talked with them?”
I shake my head.
“What do they want?”
I shrug.
“Not good. What are you really flying?”
“The ARC one twelve. Mach twenty six in a gravity well, a hundred and twenty thousand miles an hour outside one. Stops on a dime, and turns on one as well at hyper speed. Some magic hull material, we don’t hardly feel any G force, and there’s no air resistance either. The dang thing doesn’t make a sonic boom in an atmosphere. It’s a fully interplanetary transport.”
Star Girl Page 13