by WADE, T I
It was as good as any fireworks display, and because the shield was over New Zealand at the time, many on Earth could see the explosions if they were looking through telescopes.
Ryan had made sure that several people in that part of the world were looking, and the explosions were only a few hours ahead of the schedule planned on the bridge ten days earlier.
Jonesy changed onto a frequency used by many countries on Earth.
“Sierra Bravo III, Astermine to Earth. I have a message from Ryan Richmond, CEO of Astermine Space. Sorry to break your bubble, guys, but we thought to return and enjoy the fireworks show. It’s my daughter’s birthday present, the firework display from you guys. Thanks so much. Think of our return as changing our minds. We have mean attack ships up here and they will be orbiting Earth for the next decade. Yes, you heard correct, at least ten years. Mr. Richmond asked me to tell you to throw whatever you want at us. We have already destroyed 297 of your new cubes just today and flattened 37 launch pads in three countries: China, Russia and North Korea, and we are ready for more. As my boss said, we, Astermine Space, now own the entire LEO, MEO and all upper orbits from now on. All our craft have lasers. We may not fire on Earth again, but we will destroy anything you want to send us. So go about your business down there on planet Earth, and remember, Big Brother is watching you from up here. And start up international trade again. It might do you some good. General John Jones, United States Air Force, still retired, signing off from space.”
“You have to make it so comical?” Saturn asked from the seat next to him.
“It was supposed to be a serious message,” added Allen Saunders.
“Thank you, General Jones. We hope to have a better world when you return,” said Doug down in Canberra. On Saturn’s mark, the shuttle pilots had all changed the radio frequency to the one they used with Australia.
“Thank you, sir,” Jonesy replied. “It is a pity I’m not allowed to fly in and collect a few more goodies. Another day’s fishing would be great.”
“Oh! Break protocol Jonesy and I’ll take you out for a day,” added Bob Mathews.
“You still in Australia, Bob?” Jonesy asked. “Our orbits are far slower up here, which gives us time to talk.”
“Not something we were supposed to do, apart for giving our message,” reminded a smiling Allen to Jonesy. “We knew that scoundrel Bob Mathews would tempt us with all the spices of Earth.”
“No, Jonesy, Allen, between 100 and 1,000 miles offshore from Darwin, I don’t want to give my location away, but we are trolling for dinner. Remember, I have only the best equipment aboard my ship. I’m sure Doug has more temptations than us three out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“Thanks, guys. Bob, fish well. Doug, see you in a few years. I have to keep to my orders and stay off the air. Get a nice island for us and the Jones family will be there fishing one day. So long to all on planet Earth.”
Chapter 17
Return to Mars
It took the NextGen pilots the allotted time to catch up with America One. Space was vast, and there was no way to cut corners. The mother ship was on a directional arc to connect with Mars, and the three shuttles followed a slightly tighter arc at a higher speed to catch up with the rest of the crew.
“America One, do you copy, over?” asked Saturn Jones on their tenth day after leaving the freighters behind in LEO fighting off the cubes. A faint response was heard but it was far too incoherent to understand. America One was over four million miles from Earth, and the shuttles had only passed the two-million-mile mark. It took time for the ever-increasing speed to rise once the thrusters had been turned off at 40,000 knots, three hours after leaving the last orbit.
Until they reached 40,000 knots, America One went faster than they did. Saturn tried again 48 hours later, got no better a response and gave up for a week.
Life on the shuttles was getting monotonous. Even Jonesy was looking forward to helping VIN and Suzi in the cubes again. Hard work began to sound nice. To keep fit, the astronauts spent four hours a day biking upside down above their crewmembers.
“This journey is different from the ones we did to DX2014,” said Jonesy to Maggie one morning sitting in the cockpit with the rear door closed. The bike with Saturn working hard on it above them was beginning to squeak, and they had not packed any lubricant.
“In what way?” asked Maggie, reading a book on her tablet in the copilot seat.
“We have always orbited around planets while flying SB-III, or headed out and back to asteroids or planets getting closer to Earth. Now we are chasing America One, a million miles ahead of us, who is in turn, from the turn of the opposition yesterday, now chasing Mars. It’s like a line of aircraft heading over the Atlantic, except that the destination is going further and further away.”
“So?” asked Maggie, looking up at her always-thinking husband.
“Doesn’t that feel different to you?”
“I suppose so,” she replied. “It doesn’t really matter to me. All we can see is stars out here. The Earth is behind us, and so is the moon, which I tried to take a peek at last night. There is only the sun and the stars that never change, so I don’t see much difference. We can’t even see the other shuttles since Saturn spaced us out in an open formation five miles apart.”
“Maybe we should all get into a tighter formation,” replied Jonesy. “Mags, we could head over to the neighbors for a drink. Like if we were living on base or in suburbia, and the next evening everybody could spacewalk over to us for dinner. How does that sound?”
“Jonesy, I think you are going loopy. This space travel is getting to you. If you think I’m going to spend an hour dressing up in a bloody spacesuit to float outside and visit the neighbors, then you have gone really loopy.”
“You would have done that if we were heading out to a cocktail party, or some other party on Earth,” Jonesy said.
“Sure, to drink champagne and have a nice steak or slab of salmon or something. Hey, look at the excitement. We get all dressed up and then we spend an hour floating over to the neighbors, take an hour to get undressed, and there we will eat the same silver packets of food we are going to eat here. Also due to possible space cops wanting to ticket drunken spacewalkers heading home, we can’t drink and float home. Plus we don’t have jetpacks on board.” She shook her head, trying to figure out what her husband was smoking, and went back to her book.
Jonesy thought for a while. “I remember VIN. When we got bored, he got into his suit and just drifted in space for an hour or two. Maybe I should try that to alleviate the boredom?”
“Go for it,” replied his wife, not looking up. “You better clear it with the flight commander first, make sure your friendly space sharks don’t eat you up, and don’t be surprised if somebody cuts your line while you are out there. Close the shield. It will be like the old days in the blackness of space, and that will get your head straight again. This book is pretty good, and you are interrupting me.”
“Saturn!” said Jonesy after getting up, opening the rear door and shouting into the rear compartment. “I’m going out for a walk. Mind the ship.”
“Sure, take the dog out with you. Hey! Take the garbage out while you’re at it,” replied Saturn, biking hard and not thinking her father was actually serious.
“Where’s Dad?” she asked her mother once she opened the cockpit door over an hour later and realized that the docking port was extended.
“He took out the garbage, as you so eloquently put it, dear.” She smiled. “There he is, waving at you through the starboard side window.
“What garbage? Where’s the shield? Who gave him permission to suit up?” Saturn asked, her face suddenly pale.
“You did. He took himself out after you gave him permission, Commander,” replied her mother smiling broadly and going back to her book. “Don’t worry. VIN, your Dad and I used to do this all the time on autopilot, and without the shield it’s quite relaxing out there.”
“You tak
e over command, Mother. I’m heading out,” and she rushed to suit up.
Even rushing it took fifty minutes to get a suit on, and once Maggie helped her on with her helmet she headed into the docking port. She snapped on her line and slowly exited the outer hatch.
“Hope you brought a couple six-packs of beer with you,” joked her father as she floated in his direction by pushing off from the side of the shuttle and moving her hand gently up his line, which was fully outstretched. He caught her foot and they maneuvered themselves gently side by side to come alongside each other, 100 feet to one side of the craft. Her teenage suit was much smaller than her father’s. Maggie waved at them from her window and went back to her book.
“What are we doing out here, Dad?” she asked. She had spacewalked dozens of times in training, but always with an agenda. This was the first time she was in space with nothing to do.
“Well, I’ve got 70 minutes remaining, you far more, but I used to watch VIN do this when we went asteroid mining. It’s like taking a walk in the park, except its night and the park never ends. I haven’t seen Earth for over a week. There it is, from here we can see it again, it’s getting smaller but you can still see the blueness of the planet. I’m relaxing, or trying to, and what else is there to do?”
“We could play I Spy,” joked Saturn.
“Yeah. Good game. We have one shuttle, one Earth, no moon, one sun and a billion stars. A great game to play out here,” he replied sarcastically. “Well our cruise speed climbed over 50,000 knots an hour about two hours ago. I suppose I have never spacewalked so fast in my life.”
“It doesn’t feel that fast,” said Saturn.
“Yeah, more like only 30,000 knots,” joked her father. She tried to punch him, and he had to grab hold of her foot as they both parted rapidly in opposite directions. “Take it easy, Saturn. VIN had a thruster pack on when he did this, but we don’t, and now we could float anywhere.”
It took time, and Saturn learned a valuable lesson. They both had to pull themselves back to the port with their lines and push themselves back out slowly to stop themselves swinging around the outside of the ship.
Once they got themselves back in a stable environment, for the next thirty minutes they just floated there on the starboard side this time and watched space go by at ten times faster than a speeding bullet. Maggie got a shock when she looked up at the end of her book and found her side window was empty of her family, but found them waving at her from the opposite side of the cockpit.
“We haven’t got you on radar yet, Saturn,” said Mars Noble from the bridge.
“We should be in radar range by tomorrow. You on the bridge alone?” Saturn Jones asked, eight days after her first spacewalk with her father. They had done two more since then.
“Our speed is as calculated: 40,000 knots, and has been steady since you left,” added the bridge commander. “And yes, it is four in the morning Nevada time, and I’m on the early morning shift. Did you have a nice birthday?”
“Yes, a fantastic fireworks display. Dad nearly got tempted by Bob Mathews to head down. We destroyed about 800 cubes in the three days we could see the explosions. We think that the three shields are surviving, and Dad made a really stupid speech to the world over the radio. How was your birthday?”
“Oh, the usual triple chocolate cake from my mother,” laughed Mars.
“Oh stop, Mars. You are making my mouth water.”
“And my dad gave me part of his old Marine suit, his Lieutenant shoulder insignia. What’s your current speed? It is supposed to be 57,300 knots today?”
“You have to ask me?” replied Saturn. “What do you think it is?”
“I suppose what I said,” he replied.
“You are nearly as dumb as my father sometimes. They are watching some old movie called “Ender’s Game” from when I was born. A real Hollywood space movie, would you believe?”
“Shuttle Flight Commander, your full report, please,” came Captain Pete’s voice over the speakers, and Saturn sat up straight.
“Yes, Captain. Forward speed 57,345 knots, sir, calculated by a new computerized star pattern nine minutes ago. Estimated distance from you: 1,063,000 miles. Estimated time of arrival including 60 hours of slowing to 40,000 knots: 3 days 11 hours 45 minutes, sir.”
“You are seven hours ahead of schedule?” Captain Pete asked.
“Must be a tailwind, sir,” remarked Saturn, which made her father smile as he entered the cockpit.
“Fuel reserves, Commander?” Captain Pete asked.
SB-I: 37 percent reserves. SB-II: 38 percent reserves. SB-III: 37 percent reserves. Reason for difference, sir, is that both Penelope and I moved aft and forward of SB-II to release our freighters, saving SB-II the fuel.”
“As expected, Commander. What formation are you flying?”
“Loose formation, currently five miles apart. SB I is on our starboard side, SB-II port side, sir.”
“Report to me in 48 hours, out,” replied Captain Pete, and he gave Mars Noble a stern stare.
Nine hours and ten minutes ahead of schedule, SB-III entered the blue shield around America One once the two other shuttles had docked.
They had first seen the larger ship twenty miles ahead. Jonesy was giving instruction on slowing and had left the last slowing period of twenty minutes with thrusters to the very last moment. They had nearly flown by the mother ship a couple of miles on its starboard side, but Jonesy, by coaching the three new astronauts from SB-III’s copilot seat, showed them the maximum slowing thrust, learned on DX2014. Sometimes it was better to slow the last few knots with a short full power reverse thrust than slow progressive reverse thrusting over hours.
The astronauts were happy to be able to feel the added gravity-like centrifugal force from the spinning of the mother ship. Jonesy was happy to see VIN, who told him that the Jones family had been scheduled for an hour by the pool a few hours from then.
His parents looked well and happy. On the way up to the upper level in the elevator after their briefing, they excitedly told them about all the algae building they were enjoying with Suzi. Jonesy was quite surprised that his father got on so well with everybody. That certainly wasn’t a normal Jones trait.
The three young astronauts in command of the shuttles were commended on the bridge by the team during the briefing. Ryan now knew that he would have more astronauts to depend on in the next few years, but the NextGens didn’t have their “Commander” statuses yet.
America One was a third the distance to Mars, currently 39 million miles ahead of them, and there was much to be done before they reached home.
The new robotics lab was complete and had several of the crew working with the equipment purchased on Earth during the last visit. Commander Joot and Elder Roo, in between their Matt teachings, were fascinated to think that a mechanical man, even more mechanical than VIN Noble, could be built. For hours they spent time in the lab watching and helping in any way they could, but much of their work was going through the senior Matt chests brought aboard from the Sahara. Ryan, Igor and Captain Pete sat with the two Matts as they opened one chest after the other.
Suzi and her larger team of helpers laid out Cube Four’s new Algae to Hydrogen Production System. This system comprised a newly developed bioplastic algae encasement fitted around all six walls of a cube, except for the doors on each wall of the ship’s central walkway. This encasement, completely see-through and one foot deep, grew the algae from the lighting system surrounding the walkway. Cube Three’s algae encasement was complete and had produced enough algae to hydrogen in the last three months to power SB-I to Earth and back.
It was certainly pretty in Cube Three. The rich green walls growing the algae in zero gravity conditions had the encasement lit back and front, which made all six walls a vivid bright green. This was a complete contrast to the vivid blue of the shield outside the ship.
As Jonesy had mentioned on his last walk through the walkway, America One was traveling through space in
glorious Technicolor.
Suzi’s project was to have four of the seven cubes producing algae by the time they reached Mars, and the bioplastic machines in the biology section were working as fast as they could using all the waste and remains of the older plants.
Mr. Rose, back on Mars, was working on the same project, and was hoping to have one of the floors inside one whole blue shield producing hydrogen before Suzi returned.
As Suzi had explained to Ryan, all algae needed to grow was water, sunlight and nutrients. Once the algae was deprived of sulfur, hydrogen was produced instead of oxygen. This had been done on Earth since 2010, but over the last 12 years, Suzi’s team had bioengineered their strain of algae to now being able to produce hydrogen 100 times more efficiently than when they had left Earth a decade earlier. Jonesy found it most uninteresting when Suzi gave her lecture a few months earlier, how they had used cloning to grow the population of algae and how their strain would last forever. He had suggested to her to attempt to get him to last forever, something he alone learned from the others’ comments, and from Suzi in her curt German way, that it was not to be.
With four of the new black boxes brightly lit on Mars in a year or so, and using four of the seven cubes on America One, she believed that she could produce enough hydrogen to fuel all necessary future journeys by all craft, including the mother ship. This was her twenty-year project. She had nine years to go, and was ahead of schedule.
With the chests emptied, hundreds of documents were ready to be inspected to learn how to build the black boxes, how to produce Cold Fusion, and how to produce the fantastic wall linings, the invisible doors, the cryogenic chambers and many other lesser inventions found in all the Matt bases so far.
In one Inventor’s chest alone were thousands of thin papyrus leaves filled with explanations, drawings and diagrams, and Ryan actually wondered how much of this advancement had been made from the old Matt race that had visited Commander Joot’s ancestors, and how much was their own technology.