Thursday, March 14th, 20XX
Jacques Delende stood staring out the ICH's window, stupefied. The whole way up he could've glanced back, or felt the distance growing by the thinning of the air around their shuttle, the darkening of all but the distant, blinding Sun. Now, beholding the green-speckled, white-iced blue ball of Earth, its whole curve in view within a window no larger than a kitchen table, he felt that distance. Homesickness, maybe. Or just: how small things really were. He'd flown simulations, bounced around zero-G centrifuges. But this was orbit… space. His cyan-trimmed spacesuit was insulated, the structure around him airtight and its interior heated; still he felt cold. He fiddled with the ID-plate on the chest of his flight suit, which displayed his rank: two lines in a point for Ensign; and his initials: JD.
The ICH was like a rectangular shipping container, only many times larger, to the size of a terrestrial warehouse; it was made to dock and house a whole fleet of spacecraft (The H stood for 'Hangar'). He turned now to see what he'd been waiting for: two humans approaching from a forward entrance. One man wore a suit much like his own, the standard uniform for Navigation & Steering: white synthetic fabric with composite plating, a flat titanium air tank built in snug-fitting between the shoulder blades, trimmed cyan at the arms and body-sides—all airtight and clean. His ID-plate was on his left breast, too, and in the same cyan it displayed his (a Lieutenant's) initials: MP. Like Jacques, the man carried a cyan N&S pilot's helmet, light and durable with its wide plastiglass HUD visor. His black hair was neatly crew-cut. This man strode upright, head high, eyes darting nervously around the ships and C&E Maintenance workers.
The woman ahead of him wore a uniform similar except in its coloration: it was trimmed a darker blue, almost navy, with subtle gold accenting on the hands and neckline. She was of higher rank (highest rank, aboard for N&S): this would have to be Commander Jensen. Her hair drooped in short red-brown curtains from the top of her head down to about the tops of her ears, with a shorter trim tapering down the back and sides of her head. She caught sight of Jacques, waved to him and called out in a friendly way: "Hey! You're the new guy, right?"
Jacques waved back and started towards the pair. "Yeah, hey! Commander?"
"Cori Jensen," she said. The distance closed, she extended a hand to shake; Jacques took it and shook heartily. "This here's my Lieutenant, Manny… er, Manuel Pérez." Jacques took Lieutenant Pérez's hand and shook it also. The man smiled halfheartedly; he seemed preoccupied with their surroundings.
"Jacques Delende," Jacques said, and he pointed where the Lieutenant was looking, "these them? The Cheetahs?"
Commander Jensen scratched her head. "Jacques… you a frenchie?"
"Canadian," said Jacques.
"Ah, well that fits. Takes all kinds, eh Pérez?"
Lt. Pérez had drifted towards the hanging starships, inspecting, pondering to himself. "Huh—ah, yes, of course Commander. Yes, welcome aboard Ensign Delende, happy to have you." He seemed pleasant enough.
"But these are the—"
"Yep," said Jensen, "I-S-2-7, they call these Cheetah-class." She pointed up at a rack of personal-size starships: wide, flat ones with stubby wings and long pointed noses. Like all the ships aboard the OCS Destiny (including the frigate itself) they were colored white and blue, with hints of orange, pastel blue and reflective gold, along with dark-tinted canopy windows."Can't say I love the notion. Land animal. Seeing as we haven't found any space-faring critters, and these are spaceships and not rovers, I'm thinkin' this is more naval, or maybe aerial. But the names ain't up to me, not except that one." She pointed at the only non-uniform Cheetah, one that had been repainted and clearly modified in yet more substantial ways. "Marlin, I say. That's like a swordfish, and there's no faster swimmer. Bobbing and weaving, cutting through that great black vacuum out—hold on a second Delende—hey, Forster!"
Commander Jensen spun towards the base of a nearby ladder where several people were descending, including a man in a uniform much the same as hers: dark blue. Once off the ladder this man called back to her: "Ey, Jensen!" and walked over smiling.
"Lookin' good out there, Commander?" she asked.
Now joined by a lower-ranking pilot and a green-clad member of E&R, Commander Forster nodded thoughtfully. "All good on P314. We hit a few others, not as promising. But you're only doing the one, right?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'll take the flight where I can get it. Might get there nice'n early so we can take this rookie out for a sublight spin, call it 'scouting the system' or whatever."
"Oh," said Forster, and he looked at Jacques, "a new guy! Listen kid, stick with Jensen here. She might get you into trouble from time to time, but she sure as hell knows how to get you out of it." He winked.
Jensen smiled. "Oh, alright bud, 'bout time you shuttled back down to mother Earth, right? Can't be much more than thirty we've got 'fore you're stuck with us."
"Ech, yeah, I've had enough fuckin' smoothie-bag dinners to last a lifetime. Best of luck… what's your name, Ensign?"
"Delende."
"Alright Delende, Cori… hoh, Pérez, everything alright over there? Think they'll survive the trip?"
Lieutenant Pérez looked back from his inspection. "Huh? Oh, yes, everything is in order I suppose." He saluted. "Welcome back, Commander." And then Pérez returned to his work. He'd brought over a few C&E workers to help him.
Forster leaned in towards Jacques, whispering: "You're lucky you've got him, Delende, or else how would you ever learn the rules? Maybe when Cori gets chewed out…"
Jensen scoffed, shooed with a hand. "Alright Mike, off you go. My people can grumble 'bout me well enough without you providin' ammo."
Forster flicked a two-finger salute to Jensen, grinning. "Commander," he said, and he led his crew towards a ready, earthbound shuttle.
"They put that goofball in command of the distance cruiser," Jensen muttered, shaking her head, "G-S-1-2, the new hotness; call them Albatross or something. Least they picked a bird. And now we've got it hooked up there, for what that's worth."
A pleasant voice came from an intercom at the forward side of the ICH: Attention Destiny crew. We will be departing in thirty minutes. Please finalize pre-flight checks and find your seats. Admiral Branford and the entire Companionship team thank you for your diligence and punctuality.
"Welp, that's that," said Commander Jensen, "already got at Captain Dacuma; we're good to go when we are good to go, and nobody's about to tell me otherwise. Pérez!"
The Lieutenant was up on a catwalk behind the hanging cockpit of one of the Cheetahs; he peeked out and shouted: "Yes, Commander!"
"Tell 'em to load my Marlin into the sling!"
Lt. Pérez hurried off towards the takeoff bay.
"Now Delende, I understand this'll be your first time in one of these cats… simulations don't count, so— …what are you…"
Jensen looked to her left, where Jacques was staring and awkwardly pointing: three members of the Engineering and Research team, their spacesuits trimmed bright green, approached from the port-side entrance. At their head was a woman smiling pleasantly as she 'walked with purpose'; her thick, dark curls of hair were pony-tailed loosely. Jacques squinted and realized he recognized her. Shit, that's Kay!
Kay caught his eyes as well; she nodded subtly towards him, chin up, smiling. To Cdr. Jensen she called out: "Hey, Commander!"
Jensen groaned. "Oh, what is it now, E&R? I was on video chat with Schmidt for three hours yesterday, as if we need all these damn protocols for every little edge case. Make it snappy."
"Oh, we'll be quick, but it's nothing so droll," said Kay. She extended a hand to Jensen. "Makayla Farris. My study is botany… xenobotany, maybe; if there's ever gonna be such a field, I'll be the first."
Cdr. Jensen took Kay's hand and shook it. "Hey, yeah, I've heard of you. Whiz kid who studies alien leaves, hah. What brings you to the ICH, though? Ain't you got your own shit to worry about? Nothing much growing here I'm afraid, unless you get up onto the GS1."
"I just wanted to meet you, Commander." Kay smiled. "Us botanists, we, umm… well we prefer to stick to the soil. And our greenhouses usually don't go hurtling through space at hyper-light speed. Gotta say I was, um, a little reassured that you're here, Commander Jensen. Y'know, women-led missions and all that."
"Hah!" said Jensen. "Just 'Cori,' is fine, Doctor Farris. No need for all that interdepartmental formality, and, uh, you're an inspiration too. Yep, I know you're something of a valued asset here, what with your background… couldn't much say no to you, these knuckleheads. That makes you a badass, for my money. But some of these boys ain't so terrible, like my Lieutenant Pérez over there…"
Kay followed Jensen's gesture and waved to Pérez. He waved dutifully back.
Jensen patted Jacques on the shoulder. "And this fella, don't much know him yet but he—"
"That's Jack Delende," said Kay, eyeing him, smiling faintly. "Or are you back to Jacques now?"
Jacques looked around nervously. "Yeah, Jacques again. What's up Kay?"
"Everything seems to be going well enough for both of us," she replied. "How's Sena doing? Bubbly as ever?"
"Heh, yeah. She's been good; got a gig in marketing in the city, her own place… she's good. She'll be happy to know you're up here."
"Away from her, right? Hah, I'm just messing." Kay smirked.
"Oh-hoh, so you two know each other?" Commander Jensen smiled. "Small world, huh, and even smaller spaceship. And what about these other two, this' gotta be your team, right Doc?"
A woman with long, slightly wavy, pink-streaked brown hair stepped up to Jensen. "Olivia McNally, but you can call me Livvy. I do computers. Nice to meet ya Cori. We're all one big happy family here, yeah?" She grinned at Commander Jensen and shook her hand, but seemed to flick her eyes at Jacques every few seconds.
"Sure, sure." Jensen rolled her eyes. "What about this guy? He talk?"
"Hi, uh, Kevin," said the black-haired man to Kay's left. "Kevin Choi. Astrophysics and MechEng. That your custom?"
Jensen looked back to where he pointed: her ship ready for takeoff, sitting flat on rails that led to a bulkhead door. "Huh? Oh, yeah, that's my Marlin. Ain't she somethin'?"
Kevin stepped out of the circle of people to inspect the ship. "Huh. Your hyper-light there…" His eyes glinted; he looked back at Jensen. "You do that yourself?"
"Pilot's gotta know her way around an engine," said the Commander, "But nah, had plenty of help from the C&E guys. Guess I'm sorta an engineer myself, that way: I do the thinking, ordering, then they do all the work!" She chuckled.
"It's good," said Kevin. "You should hang out with us sometime. We've got this, uh, club…"
"A literature club," said Kay. "You should come too, Jacques. After dinner we like to get together and hash things out, shoot the shit, you know. Share tricks of the trade. Maybe Kevin has some tips to make your fish there swim better."
Kevin raised both hands in something like surrender. "I dunno. Looks souped-up enough already. But yeah, we share lotsa things. Good to work together, right?"
Jensen laughed heartily. "Yeah, sure! Us working together. That's what they always praise: interdepartmental unity, collaboration? Yeah, Shway, if there's anyone on this hunk-a-junk that can get me chuggin' faster it's you, I bet." Jacques smirked quietly at the pronunciation; he didn't have so many Korean friends, but Jensen had said that pretty poorly. Better than 'Choy,' I guess.
Kay Farris smiled. "Perfect. 1930, we've got the meeting room booked already: 168B, one of the nice ones with a kitchenette." She glanced at Jacques once more, nodded chin-up. "We'll leave you to it then. See ya 'round, people." She led her trio back out the port-side door towards the ICC.
Attention Destiny crew. Departure is in fifteen minutes. Please return to your seats as soon as you are able.
Jensen put an arm around Jacques' shoulders. "Look Delende, you seem like a smart kid. But that girlie right there's some kinda genius, how'd you manage to meet her back down on our favorite rock?"
"Oh, she went to school with my sister. They were pretty good friends for a while, actually… I've met her a bunch of times."
"Huh," said Jensen. "Small spaceship… okay! Pérez, let's get a couple Cheetahs ready!"
Her words were made immediately redundant as the loading claw placed two Cheetah-class starship onto the rails behind Jensen's own ship. Pérez nodded back at his Commander a bit proudly.
"Oh, yeah," she said, "good job, L-T, hurrah." She shook her head. "Alright Delende, he's gonna take you through the protocols and teaching and all that. You've got this, though, and if you need an aspirational ideal—" She snapped and thumbed back at her Marlin. "—just watch me!" She patted him on the back of his arm and stomped off towards her ship, shooing C&E workers away from it as she jumped artfully inside. The custom starcraft's windscreen slowly shut, and its engine began to hum.
"Alright Ensign Delende, this way," said Lt. Pérez. He led Jacques toward the first Cheetah behind Commander Jensen's ship, and whispered to him: "Don't worry, she does care. Just, uh, doesn't always have the patience… but Commander Jensen knows the protocols need to be followed, hence why she entrusts me with your training." He pointed to stenciled characters on one wing of what would be Jacques' ship: "IS2-7-028. Interstellar Scouting Vessel with Hyperlight capability. This will be your vehicle on our trip to planet P314-086-0077. The onboard computer will take care of the Hyperlight navigation, but in sublight you'll have full manual control, unless you opt for autopilot. But: we only get two real journeys this month… why let a computer have all the fun?" He forced a chuckle. "…anyway, you'll need to learn, and I doubt a computer can keep up with the Commander. She, um, well she respects a strong spirit, and your ability to adapt. Let's see to the pre-flight checks…"
Pérez took Jacques through all the pre-flight checks, and they were as boring as they sounded. Only gotta do this twice, Jacques thought. He'd been briefed on all of this back in the base. He couldn't help but have his attention taken by the clambering of the hefty takeoff door as it opened; Jensen's Marlin, roaring to life, passed briskly out the holo-shielded opening and into the blackness of space. I'm next, he thought with a faint shiver. He set his focus back on the exhaustingly comprehensive diatribe of Lieutenant Pérez.
In time, Jacques was sitting in the pilot seat of the Cheetah's cockpit, as Pérez explained various buttons and dials. "Most of this will be on your holoscreen, and you can add it to your helmet's HUD as well. In fact, let's have a look. Hera?"
Yes, Lieutenant Perez? asked a synthetic voice from inside the ship.
"Show us the holoscreen, please." A flat surface of solid-looking blue light projected out from the control panel above Jacques' steering yoke. "Yes, female, and named Hera. You can customize all of that with simple voice commands, but let's focus on procedure for now. This is your velocity gauge, you see?" He pointed to a circular display on the screen. "How about you ask her to add that to your personal HUD?"
Jacques shrugged. "Hera, add IS2-7-028 speed gauge to my HUD."
Yes, of course Ensign Delende. I've added Multiaxal Anemometer Readout for this spacecraft to your helmet's Personal Display. Would you like to add this ship to your favorites?
Jacques shivered slightly. He was never a huge fan of all this automated shit. Course he'd used 'computer assistants' like this one before, but it didn't feel as comforting coming from a 'smart' spaceship. A vehicle he could die in, if something went wrong; this all felt like some science-fiction nightmare, like that one movie. "No thanks," he said, "and Hera, I'm just going to call you 'Computer,' alright?"
Alright, Ensign Delende. I will answer to 'Computer' from now on. If that causes confusion, you can always rename me to something else.
"Good, see, you already understand all this," said the Lieutenant. "Now I don't mean to rush things, but we should get moving. You'll need some time to get a feel of things out there before we 'blast off,' you can do the automatic takeoff sequence if you like. Asking for 'Automatic Takeoff' should be enough for H—uh, for your Computer to understand, or the SCN is 09945-SGC2-16B. And I'll be right behind you; I'll open starcomm with Commander Jensen so—"
"Yeah, I got you. Let's get out there," said Jacques.
Pérez nodded and walked back to his own craft. "Don't be afraid to be ask the Computer for help!" he said as he climbed into his own cockpit.
Pfft, like I need more help after hearin' all that, thought Jacques. He pressed a button to set his windscreen closing, and then immediately began the startup sequence. This engine was powered by some crazy radioactive shit—quantum, it had to be quantum to do hyperlight—but it all ran clean now, all ran cool. He felt its gentle thrum in his fingers, his legs, the backs of his teeth. Once he got out into the Nothingness there wouldn't much air to fight him back; even in hyperlight, seemed like these things ran smoother than a supersonic jet. They did in the simulations, anyway. Theory and reality never seemed to line up so perfectly, and Jacques Delende was more about the latter. As the engine reached the point it needed to, he gave the ship some juice (there were throttle controls on the holoscreen, and thankfully, also physical levers next to the yoke) and pulled up a little. Through the membranous holoshields and into the vastness of high-orbit space he ventured, slowly, almost floating, drifting forwards until the tail of his exhaust slipped free. Just before he left the ICH, he heard the intercom: Attention Destiny crew, we— Then he was out, alone with his thoughts in the empty void of space, the entire universe (or, at least most of the Milky Way) within his reach, just waiting for him to fly out into it. A wondrous, endless set of possibilities… and also an overwhelming number of choices. Protocol was to turn his ship and gently split off from Earth's orbit; he followed that.
The OCS Destiny was the size of a thick, short skyscraper laid down flat—alike to a 'Y' shape, with the prongs facing aftwards. The ICH and (from the outside) identical-looking ICC storage units were hulking prisms of steel and titanium jutting parallel out from the back, with little airtight corridors stretching between. Further ahead—that is, in the base of the split where both cargo units connected to the ship proper—there were, above and below the heights of the corridors, massive dual thrusters, with an enormous glowing engine core visible between. There were further thrusters on the aft end of each IC; between these four, this incredible SGC Command Frigate was to travel at hyperlight speed. There were smaller thrusters at many points along its length for steering and finer adjustments. Further up on the ship proper there was an orbital ring: the OB Orbital Space Station, which would be left in suspended around P314 as the Destiny landed. The whole vessel was like a spacefaring town, with living quarters and amenities, laboratories and lavatories, recreational facilities and a very large galley. And at its head, the very bow of the ship, there was the command bridge, broad and windowed. Jacques had met Captain Carter Dacuma, who would be in there heading Navigation of the Destiny itself, very briefly back on Earth. There would also be Admiral James Branford from OCM, who'd sponsored and now headed the entire mission, as well as everyone else in a leadership position; everyone, save Commander Jensen. She was just ahead of Jacques, tracing spirals around the Destiny as she carried on ahead of it. Instead of smoke, these Cheetahs bled a tapering trail of orange light from out of their exhaust nozzle. A starcomm request came to Jacques' holoscreen and he opened it.
"How we lookin' back there, fellas?" said the Commander, "You still with us, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, my pre-flight checks are complete. I'll be out in just a moment," came Pérez's reply.
Jacques heard Cdr. Jensen scoff. "Any day now. How bout you, Delende, how's the view out here?"
"It's alright," said Jacques. "Whole lotta nothing's what I see."
"Tshh," said Jensen. "Pérez, make sure this hotshot learns his ship well enough that he won't crash it. Big bird's under ten now, and I'm out in three."
Jacques twisted back and saw Lt. Pérez's starship clear the port of the ICH. "Alright, Ensign," said he, "let's get further out from Earth's pull and try some turns."
The ship turned easily, almost too easily; no simulation could prepare Jacques for a real dragless flight. He tried barrel-rolling twists, some pitch-shifting wave bounces, and the sort of lateral-strafing wide roll like the Commander had been doing around the ship—though he stayed to open space, for now. They were past the range of the highest-orbiting Earth satellites, excepting the Moon; out in the open, like ships on darkening seas far from shore.
"Good, Ensign Delende, looking good. Any other questions?" Pérez seemed at least as nervous as he was, and that came as some relief.
"Nah, I'm good now. Commander, I'm ready when you are."
Jensen's ship leveled out. "Ugh, hyperlight's the boring part. Eh, spose we'll have time to mess around on the other end…" A fourth channel opened on their starcomm. "Captain, we're gonna make like a tree," she said. "Catch you on the other side, and eat my stardust, will ya?"
Then came the voice of Captain Dacuma: "Roger that, Commander. Lieutenant Pérez, make sure she doesn't get lost, huh? Over and out." The fourth channel closed.
"Smug prick," muttered Jensen. "Alright you two, just press the button and get on with it. I'll… oh no, what's happening!? My computer, I think it's—" The Marlin's engine blasted brilliantly to life, its exhaust nozzle splaying wide to make way for the sudden jolt of thrust. Then the ship disappeared into a burning streak of light, which seemed to instantaneously stretch out forever into the darkness, and disappear just as quickly.
"… Pérez?"
"Oh, don't worry Jacques, she always does some silly nonsense like that. Once we get into hyperlight we'll be able to starcomm with her; this is normal, all except her pranks. Just hit that hyperlight button on your screen, or ask your Computer."
As if on cue, the ship's Computer said: Ensign, Commander Corinthia Jensen's Interstellar Scouting Vessel has entered Hyperlight en route to planet P314-086-0077. Would you like to do the same? The OCS Destiny will takeoff in six—
"Yeah, Computer, start hyperlight sequence. And just call the planet 'P314' from now on."
Alright, Ensign Delende.Fourteen seconds to hyperlight acceleration. The engine began to thrum more loudly; a sort of screaming sound, like the building roar of a jet engine. Jacques' hairs stood on end for a moment.
"And don't call me 'Ensign,' just Jacques," he added.
Yes, alright. From now on I will call you Jock. Three seconds.
"…Not 'Jock'! Jacques, it's—"
Jacques' ship lurched forwards. He'd felt some serious G-forces before, and this was much the same, only a bit more extreme, and yet somehow smoother; though the jerk from maybe forty to several hundreds of millions of miles per hour took what seemed like a moment, it also felt as though the ship got up to that speed gliding smoothly. Must be the quantums, somehow, Jacques thought. He'd never really cared for that level of physics, relativity and all that; maybe there was a black hole in the engine or something. After a seemingly endless second atop the first peak of a Planck rollercoaster, Jacques and his spaceship reached that dizzying speed which was, for the longest time on Earth, reckoned impossible: past the speed of light, and then many times more. The movies had some pretty good ideas: stars streaking by as solid lines of light as the ship peeled past them. Sadly, that was still a bit too classical an understanding of hyperlight, an all too sublight way of conceptualizing motion in a world past light; if he had to explain the experience to someone who hadn't shared it, he would say that he "saw Time," as a discreet visual, which would only raise further questions. How does one describe the indescribable?
***
Livvy McNally heard the same saccharine voice over the intercom: Attention, Destiny crew. Takeoff is in five minutes. Please secure yourself into your seat as soon as possible. If you are too far from your assigned seat, check your holotab or ask another crew associate to help you find overflow seating.
At last she, Makayla and Kevin were on their way to their seats, which were at a shoulder window ahead of the ICC. They'd had plenty to do back there, and more taxing still: very many people to speak with. Prospects. "Ears open," Makayla said, from ahead and without looking back, "there'll be lots of nice C&E peeps up there too."
"I'm probably just gonna doomscroll," said Livvy. "That's what everyone else's gonna do, right? I mean it's what, an hour before they let us unbuckle and walk around?"
Kevin eyed her sidelong. "Sure Livvy, perfect time to turn our brains off."
"Augh, whatever, you know what I mean!" she said.
They reached the room which held their seats; the rows of cushioned chairs stepped down towards the curving window like a movie theater. Many of the seats were already occupied: some E&R people clad in the same green as them, plenty of pastel-orange clad Construction & Extraction guys, and even a few red-uniformed 'Companionship' employees. "H3 thru 5," said Makayla, "least we got an aisle seat. Livvy, you want it?"
"Nah, I can hold my piss," she said. Kevin shook his head as well and got in first, taking H5.
Attention Destiny crew. Takeoff is in TWO minutes. If you aren't yet in your assigned room, please find the nearest available hyperlight-suitable seat.
Livvy sat in H4, the middle of her friends, and buckled in. This isn't so different from an airplane seat, she thought. But it was different; less danger in an airplane flight. Once they'd buckled, she grabbed her friends' wrists in each hand. Kevin patted her clutching hand. "All good," he said, and smiled at her, "we're just a couple of nerds on a normal space mission."
Hello, crew associates! Welcome, welcome! said a new voice from the intercom: James Branford, the CEO of OCM and head of this mission.
Executive Producer, thought Livvy.
His face, too, came smiling onto a screen above the window, his gray and whitening hair neat-trimmed atop a bright round visage. I am Admiral Branford, as you all surely know by now. Yep, we're about to get going! It's incredible what we've all managed to accomplish together, thanks to each and every one of you. I doubt there's anything I can say to enrich this historic moment any further, or congratulate you like you deserve, not in… what, ten seconds!? Oh boy! Sit back, enjoy the show, and God bless us all as we share in this: human Progress, my dream, Our DESTINY!
There were cheers and applause (including from Makayla) as the engine core roared thunderously to life. And anxious prayers, clawed hands gripping armrests, shouts of: "We're moving!" and "Hooooly shit!"
Livvy looked over at Kevin, who was smiling. "After all," he whispered to her, "it is amazing what people have been able to do here. And now we're in it."
She grinned back. "Yee. We're in it now."
The Destiny jumped forwards into hyperlight.
The hour flew by. Their view through the window was… well, to Livvy it was nearly unimaginable. Like abstract art, or the fuzzy colors you see under your eyelids while rubbing your eyes. Or… no, somehow it was like the visual realization of all that string theory shit, how time was the fourth dimension or whatever. Plenty of people just stared dumbly at it. 'Trippy' might be the right word, she thought.
But others, like she, were sat scrolling on their holotabs—somehow they had wireless internet connectivity here in hyperlight (it had to do with the starcomms… quantum networking wasn't her specialty) so people could have in-flight movies, and musical accompaniment in their earbuds, or social media feeds to scroll. Livvy focused on the glowing lower rim of her tab's face as she scrolled through an endless feed of Short Video Content, its volume low in one ear-bud. She heard voices behind to her left; C&E guys:
"Whatchu got there? They winnin?" said one man in a husky voice.
"Nah, nah, but they're only down five. And look'a'this Fred: forty-one, only ten points off the over. I put a hundred off our advance into this, and now I'm gettin' an easy two-fifty. You got anything on the game?"
The first man said back: "Pssh. Nah, I don't fuck with them apps man. House always wins."
Livvy glanced back subtly as she could. That first man had a stature to match his voice: large in about every way, burly, with short hair in tight, thick curls and the same sort of goatee.
Hello, Destiny crew, and welcome to hyperlight. You may now leave your seats and attend to whatever business you please.
This announcement was accompanied by a graphic on the screen above the window: a simplified cartoon of a woman in red Companionship uniform. Now she was joined by another cartoon Companionship employee: a man, clutching the front of his hips and crying anxiously: Oh, I've got business alright. Which way's the restroom!? Some of the crew people laughed.
Kevin laughed along as he stood, saying: "Welp, back to work I guess."
Makayla and Livvy unbuckled themselves and got up too. Livvy held the other woman by the shoulder and pressed once with all five fingers, nodding backwards. Makayla Farris looked back, smiled and nodded, and then all three made for the aft door.
Last to leave, Makayla bumped clumsily into a certain big and burly C&E guy, then jumped back and started angrily: "Hey, watch where you're going, stupid!"
The man looked back at her a bit startled, but physically, quite entirely un-moved. "Uh, sorry ma'am." He laughed nervously. "Make a better wall than a door, I guess."
"Oh, this is a joke to you!?" Makayla sputtered. "What's your name, Mr. Wall?"
He looked down. "Fred, miss. Fred Wilson, C&E, Maintenance. Sorry 'bout that."
Makayla put her hands on her hips. "Oh, alright Wilson. I'm Makayla Farris, by the way, Doctor Makayla Farris." She extended a hand to him.
"Okay Doctor Farris," Fred said as he shook the hand, "I'll, uhh… sure. Didn't mean to make problems for you."
"Very well," she said. "Kevin, warn me next time some oaf nearly falls on top of me." Kevin just rolled his eyes, grinning. Livvy and her friends moved on.
"Say," Fred called after them, "Doctor, huh. What you got a PHD in anyway?"
"S.D.. In botany," Makayla said hotly, whirling back.
Fred set his jaw. "Botany. Like… trees, leaves and similar?"
"Phytology," she said, "the study of the clade Plantae, photosynthetic life! All things flowering and coniferous, the green of mother nature. Autotrophs on Earth or any other ball of rock. And don't you forget it, Fred!"
Fred Wilson rolled his eyes. "Aight. Ain't just 'flowering or coniferous' though. Mosses don't do either. Same with ferns, or like, algaes and stuff."
Makayla stepped back towards him. "Oh, you know everything, don't you, Maintenance Man!? Alright then. My friends and I have a book discussion club, where we see who really knows what." She looked around the room as she pointed aggressively at him. "If you or any other Trash-bin Biologists wanna show how far 'doing your own research' gets you, why not meet us in room 168B, at 7:30P.M. tonight, and then we'll see how much you know." She glowered once more at Fred as she spun, snapped once, and strutted out.
As they left, Livvy heard another man behind them mutter: "Damn, that bitch's stuck-up." She hid her grin.
The trio of green-garbed E&R professionals found their way to their own private quarters: a little three-bedroom suite near the port edge of the ship. Livvy locked the door behind them, then she and Kevin set about the edges of the room, feeling around the walls and eyeing corners. Makayla opened a mechanical drawer, and all three set their watches inside it before she shut it back tight. "We good?" she asked Livvy.
The shorter woman touched a device on her wrist. "Yeah. Airtight."
Makayla sat down on a modern-looking couch with a huff. "Did I lay that on too thick?"
"Nah," said Kevin, and he grinned. "He likes you."
"What?" Makayla stood and shook her head. "Oh nah, I mean… sure, good. He'll show up." She sat back down, head in hands. Livvy took out a hairbrush and began to use it on her own light-brown, pink-striped locks.
"Literature club, though? Book discussion?" said Kev. "We gotta iron this out. Maybe we should do philosophy instead."
"Philosophy?" Makayla raised her head. "Kev, you ever been in a philosophy club before? Gotta buncha fuggin Devil's Advocates outta Daddy's Gated Community, actin' like they got the whole world figured out from Saltinesville, U.S.A.!"
Livvy shook her head. "She's right. Last thing we want's a bunch of philosophy majors. Hmm, how about poetry?"
Kevin nodded. "Rap's kinda like poetry, right?"
"Nobody believes that shit," said Makayla. "And oh, like English majors are any better?"
"Hey, maybe that's good," said Livvy, pacing and brushing, "we get the right kinda rap fans with poetry club. Cause the other kind won't think 'rap' when they hear 'poetry,' especially if they're guys, who…" She stopped brushing to raise one hand and tap the skin on the back of it with a finger.
"Huh, I think you're onto something," said Makayla, "but we still wanna attract people, y'know? Does even the right kinda person give a fuck about poetry? Nah, lemme see…"
"We've still gotta keep it low-key, y'know, non-threatening?" said Kevin. He sat down to ply into his own mind. "Hmm… some kinda music club? R&B?"
"No, it's, uhh… I got it!" Makayla jumped up. "Slam poetry! That's hip, right?" She gestured back and forth with both hands. "Middle ground, sounds a bit 'rappier'? 'Exaggerated swagger'?"
Livvy pressed fingers to her temples. "Damn. I'm really trying not to call you corny, Kayla, but isn't that a little… I don't know. 2014? You know, uh, Post—err… sorta 'young, scrappy and hungry'?"
"It's just what we need—it's nostalgic," said Makayla. "Hmmm, guess I see what you're saying. Little too blue wonder-bread; surprised when shit went bad… hey, did you ever do slam poetry, Livvy?"
Livvy McNally blushed red. "Oh, no; 2014 you don't wanna… what do you think I was…" She sighed. "I was more like your devil's advocates back then. Heh, um… and we were poor, no, I never really got into all that stuff, you know, the green-loving sorta blues, well…"
Kevin patted her on the shoulder. "Hey. It isn't easy, but you're trying your best. Gotta get off your spiral sometimes, right?"
"…Kevin," Livvy asked sheepishly, "um, ya want a hug?"
"Sure, but… do you?" He opened his arms.
"…yeah." They embraced; a little awkwardly, but there was warmth. Livvy shut her eyes and smiled happily.
Makayla hardly noticed; she was pacing about their living room, rapt in thought. "Nope," she said at last. "It's gotta be slam poetry. Maybe we frame it as some kinda debate, but I dunno, Debate Club would have its own fuckin' problems…"
Livvy jumped up. "Poetry, then," she said, "slam poetry! That's gotta be artsy enough, and it's Art Hoes we need, or at least open-minded types."
"Hmmph," said Kayla. "What did you guys think of Jacques? The new pilot guy, I mean."
"He's cute," said Livvy. "I mean, uhh, objectively, or—" Makayla was smirking at her.
"You're the one who was friends with his sister, right?" said Kev. He caught Kayla's glance and scratched his lips. "He was… quiet. Never can be sure what's going on in a quiet guy's head."
"Sena Delende…" said Kayla. "Sena was… well, she was always friendly. To pretty much everyone. Had a pretty good head on her shoulders, knew what she wanted, but, well, she was ambitious. A little quiet about it, no Influencer, but… she knew how to get her bag, 'swhat I mean." She grinned at Livvy. "Young, scrappy, hungry even? But Jacques, I dunno. He was even… quieter? Sour kinda guy, really; bitter, those brown little eyes a' his."
"Well, that's bad," said Kevin. "I can think of one thingmen these days give their bitterness. I should ask him what podcasts he likes, play up my own 'bro'-ness…"
Kayla tilted her head left. "Nah, I dunno. I mean, you know men, Kev, but he's not quite there neither. I mean, he's got an older sister. And he was always decent enough to the ladies, even platonically, and not just the fake kinda platonic where he's Waitin' For His Chance. Like… he had women friends, real long-term friends, including women he told no."
"Huh," said Kevin. "What about that bitterness, then? Sounds like you knew him pretty well, what exactly was he bitter about?"
Kayla snorted. "Well that's the question, huh. Hopefully he's coming to Slam Poetry Club, and one of us can pick his brain. Livvy?"
"Oh no, there's no way he's my department, I—"
Makayla Farris grinned and raised a finger towards Livvy. "Just kiddin'. Gotta be locked in to move the way we do, thinkin' more than you're lookin'. I'll do the thinkin' when it comes to lil' Jack out there. Just you wait, Miss Girl, we'll see about this man."
***
Alright, Ensign Jock. This ship is now 3.8 billion miles from planet P314. I'm beginning the deceleration sequence; planetary orbit in approximately ten minutes.
"It's Jacques, not 'Jock,' Computer. French, like Jean-François Jacques. Jean-Jacques Rousseau? No 'Ensign,' either, just Jacques!"
Alright, from now on I'll call you 'Jacques'. Is that correct?
"Yes!" said Jacques. The novelty of hyperlight travel and its time-soup tunnel had worn off. He began to fiddle with his holoscreen, in and out of menus of the UI, and then into the search function.
It seems like you're trying to engage in Interstellar Communication. Would you like me to open a channel with Commander Jensen and Lieutenant Perez?
Jacques narrowed his eyes at the traitorous holoscreen. "…yes."
The starcomm buzzed to life. Pérez was visible behind him in… whatever this was, while Jensen's ship was only caught by the reach of his forward sensors.
The crackling voice of Cori Jensen was first through: "Delende, hey! What do you think of superspeed soup?"
"It's… kind of amazing," he replied. "Overwhelming, even. Is my computer right that we're only a few minutes away?"
"Right on," she said. "Eventually you'll learn to nap during starjumps. Ain't that right Pérez!?"
Jacques could hear the Lieutenant shifting and muttering through the starcomm. Eventually, the junior officer spoke: "Oh, well yes, if you want to sleep I suppose the autopilot can manage. I wasn't, though, I was, uhh, studying."
"Y'hear that Delende? That's some commitment, tattooing the N&S Procedural Standards to the insides of his eyelids!"
Jacques chuckled and checked his holoscreen, found the countdown timer he was looking for: three minutes and forty-two seconds until he left hyperlight and reached P314's orbit. "Commander," he said, "is there some way to see how far off the Destiny is behind us?"
There was a short delay, and then she said: "Huh. Looks like two hours and fifty-three minutes. I don't much understand this hyperlight shit, but I guess all the weight makes them a bit less hyper, somehow."
"Looks like you'll get your wish for free time after all, Commander."
"Hell yeah," she said. "Ope, looks like I'm at the end of it. See y'all at the—" One channel of the starcomm disconnected.
"We must be getting close too, Ensign. I'm gonna prepare for deceleration, over and out."
Jacques was left with a minute alone. He exhaled heavily. There was always something worrisome about a First like this; a person's first airplane flight, or sub ride, or first time driving a car. Wasn't easy to have faith in something you'd never done. Two months on P314, then the return journey and I'm back, he thought. At least the mission paid well.
Commencing starpath deceleration sequence.
Delende's IS2-7 starscouter slowed from hyperlight to near a halt as abruptly as it'd started. He sped into the system and had his first real view of planet P314-086-0077: its rocky surface reddish-orange, like Mars, but with green streaks. The planet had three moons outlying, each dark and foggy; P314 was a few hundred million miles from its orbited star, and it was a large star, so that the planet was not much cooler than Earth itself. Closing in on the planet, squinting in the tinted starlight, he caught sight of Jensen's Marlin and reopened starcomm.
"Delende! Let's hit some loops, huh?"
"Alright," said Jacques, excited. He gripped his yoke tightly to calm his jittering fingers. Jensen flipped her ship back towards one of P314's moons and he followed, streaking through the blackness.
"Look at you, the renegade! Aw, you don't want to know how many times I've been stuck with Lieutenant Tightass back there."
"Gotta learn through experience, right?" he said. "How else am I supposed to show you if we don't race?"
"Show me? Oh-hoh-hoh, I'd like to see you try!" Her ship swung hard around the first moon, its cockpit flat away from Jacques, and briskly out of sight.
He tried to follow with the same drift maneuver but found himself careening and struggling to maintain a close course. Shit, no drag out here! She must've fired the stabilizing thrusters off the top…
A third channel of the starcomm opened. "Where did… Commander, where are you two going?"
"Situation normal, Lieutenant. Gotta make sure there's nothing suspicious on the other sides of these moons."
There will be something there if you crash there, Jacques thought, grinning. The Commander took a long loop around the second moon, cutting past on the inner side and then back around. He took the shorter one, the outer curve, half-circumference. Still he was behind, but gaining. The third moon was further apart than the other two, on the far side of the planet.
"I think I'll just stay in orbit, Commander, if it's all the same to you. No reason to waste fuel on a joy… I mean, seeing as you two have 'moon scouting' covered."
"Your loss, Pérez!" The Marlin did something strange as it passed by P314 up ahead: its hyperlight engine spurted wider flares of light in short bursts, and each time sped more quickly, thrust in short steps faster forwards. "Last one around the third and longways back to the L-T is on rover duty tomorrow!"
"You can do that too, Ensign," said Pérez. "You manual the hyperlight with that pedal on the floor beside your seat. Give your hypercell steady, intermittent jolts of power, like you're hard-stopping a car that doesn't have ABS." Circling the planet near them, he demonstrated the same technique, though his 'jolts' were a bit less daring.
"Yeah, just a few quick pumps, like your wedding night!" shouted Jensen. Jacques could hear Pérez groan.
He felt for the pedal at the base of his seat. This is the hyperlight, he thought. Too long a 'pump' and I'm off to the next star, or into one. He sucked a long breath in and tapped delicately with his right foot.
Even from this faintest of presses he heard a roar from behind, and felt the ferocious impulse of an engine capable of overcoming (what was once believed to be) an absolute Law of Physics. "Hchoh-hah-hah," he said, and pressed again. Jolt, jolt, jolt. "WHEW!" Emboldened, his presses lasted longer, and he tried as hard as he might dare to catch Commander Jensen.
"That's right, Delende, that's it," she said. "Whole new fuckin' frontier, star-piloting, and you can't enjoy it if you ain't bold enough to take the shot." Somehow she sped faster still, and kept the lead.
Both ships swung close around the third moon, Jacques' just behind Jensen's, and he copying her earlier maneuver to properly drift in the vacuum of space. Sweating, he held his yoke firm and kept close to the moon's surface, feeling the pull of its gravity, fighting to stay in the pocket, that sacred place where all was equal, and the ship on shortest course. He caught up, close as he might dare, and neck-and-neck they both were slung out by centripetal force from the third and final moon. Pérez was still on the far side of P314.
As they both rounded the point along the planet opposite the Lieutenant, nearly into its thin atmosphere, Jensen shouted from the comm: "Alright, Delende, good try! Plenty more to learn for next time!"
Her ship drifted lower into the planet's atmosphere—too low, Jacques thought. She's in drag now, what kinda—
Her Marlin burst forwards in a blinding ray—not a brief impulse of her hyperlight, but a more sustained blast of power, seconds long, so her spacecraft whipped around the rocky sphere faster than the eyes could see.
"—Commander!"
Jacques got around the planet and, on its horizon, saw Pérez hurtling along, engine off. Then, as he pumped his hyperlight and got further; there ahead of both men was Jensen, her ship slowed to its own orbital drift.
"Rovers ain't so bad, Delende," she said. "Let's have a quick landing, we can try out the S-Ds." She dipped the tip of her ship down planetwards and began to descend.
***
Admiral James Branford sat in front of the computer on his desk in his executive office aboard the OCS Destiny. His neatly-tailored spacesuit was black with gold trim, especially about the shoulders; the overall design had a certain 'art deco' flair. On the opposite side of the desk was the beautiful young Kayleigh Johannessen, the head of the Companionship Department for this mission, who was looking at her OCM® Personal Hologram Tablet©. He sat watching her as she worked.
"Alright, Lee," he said at length. "The rest of the Companionship Team must've sent their spreadsheets by now. Let's see that inventory. We're under an hour to our landing on a new world."
"Yes Mr. Branford," she said. "One moment while I plug in… let me see here…"
James shifted in his seat, grumbled. "Admiral Branford, now. Can't be confusing the N&S Associates, right Ms. Jo?"
"Of course, Admiral Branford. Okay, it's all set. Do you want me to put this up on the projector screen?"
James nodded and flicked a hand at the projector wall. "Let's have it then," he said.
Kayleigh fiddled with her holotab, and the projector screen on the left wall blinked on. There on it was the first digital presentation slide, titled OCS Destiny P314 Mission Departure Inventory. Director Johannessen stood, walked over to stand by the large screen, and began her presentation:
"Alright, as you can see: spacecraft—fifty-two, including the three already arrived at the P314 system, and the Destiny itself. Of them, two are capable of intergalactic (long-distance) starpathing, twenty-six—"
"Alright, I know our ships. No need for an itemized breakdown there."
"Okay, yes Admiral, sir. Land vehicles we have eighty-two—that's including the fifty-five humanoid mechassists. There's the OB, our command base, the ICH and ICC, sixty forward bases—twenty outdoor stations, and an even split between the two enclosed types—that's sixty-four bases in total. Then for fuel, we have the equivalent of three-hundred and ninety-three cells in singles, duals and quads, as well as five cores—that's not counting the partially expended core in the Destiny, or the similarly in-use duals in the escort IS2-7s. As you know, we can synthesize new cells on P314 using the raw Thrascephemium we extract. And we can't accurately inventory the food production, but for rations we have—"
"Yes, yes, I've got a feel for the food stocks. What about labor?"
"Oh, of course! C&E has eighty even, N&S is forty-eight—including the escort pilots; there are thirty-five in E&R, twenty Associates serving Companionship—myself included… uh, Commissioner Alvin just sent… sixteen in Security, yes, sixteen. That's everything."
James nodded thoughtfully. "Good. Anything worthy of my attention back on Mother Earth?"
Kayleigh consulted her holotablet once more, attentively scrolling and searching, pinching and dragging its touch-screen. "Your son gave a nice statement about our departure, Admiral. Lots of good buzz around OCM stock after we left."
"Ah, Frankie has his moments, sure enough. What else, how do our interests fare?"
"Associate Negativity is down… 34.2%. We're inspiring hope by the realization of your wondrous dream of interstellar exploration. Oh, and Senator Williams gave his speech about job creation and productivity. Only good news for OCM holdings."
James clapped the arms of his chair and stood. "Progress. We're moving forwards, lifting all ships by our rising tide. Keep up the good work, Lee; I'm off to ready myself for the arrival announcement." He left for the Newsroom.
***
Kevin Choi and Livvy remained in their quarters; Makayla had left, to attend some meeting of the E&R departments. He studied starship schematics on his holotab.
Livvy spoke without looking up at him, somberly: "She's barely keeping it together…"
Kevin exhaled heavily. "We all will," he said. "We all take care of each other, and somehow we'll be strong enough."
"We will," she said, eyes hard. Livvy was on her holotab too, listening to music and messing around with some program development software.
She's always so… so frightened, he thought, and he smiled warmly. "Livvy," he said, "it won't just be us three for long. There's that Wilson guy in C&E, already, and Cori Jensen in N&S. Oh, and that guy Jacques…"
Livvy looked up at him and frowned. "Careful, Kev. Someday you'll have a crush, and then it's open season on whatever unlucky guy, and you. You most of all, ya poopyhead."
"Ohhh, homophobia now? You two have it easy, strags, and you're—"
Attention Destiny crew. Arrival on planet P314 in thirty minutes. Please return to your assigned seating as soon as you are able.
"Fuck," said Livvy, and she stood, "should we've scouted out more prospects? There's gotta be N&S people meeting up somewhere in this spacefaring company town."
"We'll find space," he said. "Hold space, mmm? Let's get back and buckle in." The two strode out and into the hallway.
Livvy muttered to herself as she hustled down the hallway: "Just gotta lock in. Mmm… fuck!" She turned to look at Kevin. "Kev… how do you deal with all this shit? I mean, the… everything, how do you keep it inside, how…"
Kev shrugged. "I'm a man. We all keep things in deep, and no one pays too much attention. Wouldn't expect you to understand…"
She frowned ironically. "Ha-ha."
The two friends found their way back to the theater of belted seats. H3—Makayla's seat—was still empty. They sat. There were lots of little conversations about the room, as people took their seats.
The intercom, and the screen above the window both crackled to life. James Branford spoke through both: Hello again, Destiny crew. We're about ten minutes away from our destination, but… 'P314,' such a terrible name. Sounds like a phone number! Some of the crew laughed. Kev heard footsteps and craned his neck back; Kayla returned to them and took her seat. Yeah, this planet needs a real name, said Branford. And together, we at OCM have found one. That's right, you're a part of our discovery, and among the first to hear a new world named. P314, your home-away-from-home, is now called KEPHARON.
Kevin leaned over and whispered to Livvy: "Not even there yet, and we're already planting flags."
"Heh," she muttered back. Her eyes darted around the room.
By now, Admiral Branford continued, I'm sure you all know what to do once we touch down. But try to enjoy it! We are explorers here, privy to a beauty few will ever see. You're all excellent at your jobs—you wouldn't be here if you weren't the Best of the Best—but if you're ever having a hard day these next few months, don't forget to look up at the stars. There's a whole new set of stars out here, and you're among the first to see them. I know you have it in you, I handpicked each and every one of you for your diverse talents. But if you ever need anything, anything at all, don't be afraid to ask. Or, if I'm running about busy with this thing or the other, hah, any one of the Companionship team would be happy to help with counseling and conflict resolution. We pride ourselves on our values here at OCM, so we want each one of you to feel valued; we are a family here, so we strive to ensure each individual associate is healthy and safe. And ope, I'm rambling again, excuse my sentimentality, everyone! Two minutes until we exit hyperlight, then it's on to Kepharon! Good luck and God bless! The screen changed to an image of a smiling cartoon Companionship employee, with the countdown below.
An E&R guy to Livvy's left tapped her on the shoulder. Kevin had met this guy in one of the orientation meetings, but couldn't remember his name. "Hey," the man said to her, "are you in astrophysics?"
Livvy shook her head and nodded back at Kev, who was already piping up: "Nah, but I am. Kevin Choi, astrophysics and MechE. What's up?"
"Oh, uh, Kyle. Kyle Savarin, Geology," said the man, and he reached across Livvy's seat to awkwardly shake Kev's hand. He whispered: "Are we gonna be, uh, safe when we leave this light-speed stuff? I mean, how does this all work?"
"Oh, yeah, it's fine," said Kev. "Hyperlumic Pathing isn't really my specialty, but I've read through the math personally, it all fits clean. I, uhh, you know about Bhandari Curves? Eighth gauge entanglement damping?"
Kyle looked at him cock-eyed. "Uhhh, I know about rocks."
"Hmm, well I can…" Kev looked up at the countdown. "Look, my friends Livvy and Makayla and I—" The women waved. "—put together this club, this Slam Poetry Club and we're gonna meet once a week starting tonight. More of an excuse to hang out, really… you busy tonight?"
"Oh yeah, I heard, um, I heard you guys talking about it earlier. Sure, I guess I could come."
"Perfect," said Kev. "Yeah, we could go through all the theory, and how the engine works and everything. Or just, other stuff… I'd love to know more about P314's tectonics. 7:30PM tonight, room 168B in the Planetary Base."
"Kepharon," said Makayla.
Kyle glanced at her. "Oh, yeah. Okay, sounds good. Thanks." He returned his attention to the window, the soupy energies flowing before them.
Kev rolled his eyes at Makayla; she looked at him sternly, chin down. The Destiny began to slow out of hyperlight.
***
Three Cheetah-class scout spaceships landed on the rocky surface of planet P314. There was a blanket of thin, white fog where they landed, but the sensors showed flat, solid ground, and the wake of air puffing out beneath each ship revealed the same. Jacques let the landing gear go automatic, he touched down softly thanks to all the stabilizing structures.
Welcome to Kepharon, Jacques.
"Kepharon?"
Jacques saw the other two windscreens unseal and slowly roster open; he did the same with his. He had his helmet on, and his suit was made to withstand vacuum depressurization. And anyways, this place has, what did they say? Like a third of an atmosphere? His cockpit opened and he stood, looked out at the planet as the tinted windscreen lifted away.
Their suits had speakers built in around the neckline; from his ship, Lt. Pérez called out: "You know about the rear cockpit storage, right Ensign?"
Jacques jumped down out of his ship—gravity was a bit weaker here, he could feel the float as he dropped to the ground, even with his weighted boots on. The ground felt like any other rocky sand. He walked over to the Marlin.
Commander Jensen was sitting backwards in her ship's passenger seat, sifting with her arms through the compact locker sat between the cockpit and engine block. "It's gotta be—" She glanced right. "Oh, hey Delende. Y'know how to get your S-D, right?"
Jacques stood still and thought back to his training. He pressed a digital watch on his wrist, and to it muttered: "Computer, can you get my SD out?"
Alright. Sending 2SD Aerodrone from your ship, Jacques.
Pérez was there at Jacques' side. "The 2SD-4-083.2 Scouting and—"
"Not everything's gotta be an encyclopedia entry, Lieutenant," said Commander Jensen. "Spaceflight Drone. Can hook it up to your back-plate, so it's sorta like a jetpack."
There was an electric hum and a whoosh behind the three, and a little two-winged drone zipped out from Jacques' ship's cockpit, streaming orange light from its back end. As it reached Jacques' shoulder it stopped and hovered there. There was a blue lens on its nose, and from near there came a familiar synthetic voice: Your 2SD is ready, Jacques. Do you want to initiate lumbar coupling?
"Sure, let's do that," he said. The little drone swung a loop up overhead and then, its back end pointed downwards, hovered down to behind Jacques. He extended his arms in a T-pose and mechanical legs clamped into harness points up around his collarbone, and under his armpits around his mid-chest. With the click of a hard seal to the outer surface of his oxygen tank, the device was secure to him. "Computer, shut down the SD for a moment."
Alright, 2SD shutting down. Let me know when you want it back on, or there's a power button on its back.
Pérez called his own drone, and Jacques walked closer to observe the Commander. She'd put on a sort of cross-chest utility belt, with a larger pouch at one hip, like a satchel's. Now she was filling it with items from her ship's storage: a coil of rope, duct tape, a pen-sized laser cutter, rations.
And something Jacques didn't recognize. "What's that?" he asked.
"Oh, uh, flashlight," said Jensen. She stuffed the thing into a pouch, but not before Jacques got a good look at it: the device's handle had another handle jutting perpendicular off it (the shape reminded him of a t-block from Tetris). The thing could've passed for a flashlight: at one end the handle flared into a wider circle, which held a yellow lens of glass (or some similar material). Not really standard issue though, Jacques thought. Must be her personal one.
"Al-righty!" Jensen said, and she hopped up. She held her own SD in one hand, slapped it onto her back, and pressed a button on it; the drone clicked into place. "Let's see what we can see out here, right boys?"
"Huh," said Jacques. "How do we actually control these things?"
"Oh, uh," said Pérez, "you should probably just keep it on automatic; the computer will have it go where you ask. If not, though, you can ask for manual; the drone responds to synaptic feedback in your gloves… uh, you move your fingers. I'd say get up into the air before you practice, and don't turn off Hover Mode… it'll slow you down if you get to close to anything solid."
Jensen reached back and pressed a button on her drone. "Squeeze for power, flat to glide, thumbs and next two fingers to turn. You'll get the hang of it Delende, up we go!" She balled both fists and shot into the sky; her windscreen began to slowly shut behind her.
Pérez flexed his fingers and sighed. "After you, Ensign. Don't worry, we can always open a starcomm from our helmets, and with hover mode on you won't crash. I'm right behind you."
Jacques set his jaw. "Computer, turn my SD back on. I wanna go forty yards up, and, uh… turn on manual once I'm up there."
Alright Jacques. Takeoff in five seconds. His drone whirred and rumbled.
Jacques held his arms at his sides, fingers flat like paddles, and looked up into the sky. This is fine, he thought. Just stay focused, this is fun! I'm a goddamn superhero now. He gasped as the drone gradually accelerated, his feet left the ground, and he picked up a bit of speed. Then he slowed to a stop, hovering forty yards in the air.
Alright Jacques, I'm going to turn on Manual Control in ten seconds. Manual uses your fingers, so get ready; flat hands is the neutral, gliding position.
Jacques looked around; he'd rode parachutes plenty of times before, and this was a lot like that. Hanging in space, the curve of the land falling out in all directions around you, sunlight glinting off the ground and clouds. But no, this ain't Sun light, he thought. That's some other star, holy shit, this is a whole different planet!
Manual Control is on now.
Jacques flexed his fingers and spun. "Wuh!" he cried. How do I— He flattened his hands and came to a halt. He was drifting back down towards the ground now, at a slant, but feet down, upright.
Pérez hovered nearby, shouted: "Imagine you're a plane, Delende, with the fuselage your body, head-to-toe! Thumbs roll, index fingers pitch, and middles yaw. Careful, now, only takes a nudge to go!"
Jacques now felt the slightly firmer resistance in his gloves, so he could make fine changes to his finger positioning and keep them. So what, only squeeze the other two fingers for power? He huffed and pressed his palms with both pinkies and both ring fingers, and shot upwards, gaining speed. He set those four fingers at a lesser angle and, slowing, curled both index fingers slowly. He began to flip backwards, until he was traveling belly-up and parallel to the planet's surface, and then further. "Computer, open starcomm with Pérez and Jensen!"
Okay, opening channels.
"Whew!" shouted Jensen.
"Pérez! Pérez, how the fuck do I pitch forwards?"
"Oh, yes, sorry Ensign. So each thumb rolls in a different direction; left for left, right for right, you get it. The same applies to the other fingers, but I suppose it's a bit less intuitive; if you curl both index fingers, it'll split the difference—think vector addition—but left pitches down, right up."
Jacques set both his index fingers straight again then daintily curled only the left one; his pitch went forward, and he completed a half-loop so that he was belly-down, and leveled out. "Thanks, Lieutenant."
"Yes, no problem. Oh, and right middle yaws right, left yaws left, but I suppose that's intuitive enough. Commander… where are you?"
"Found a nice ravine, boys! Let's test those sharp turns, huh? Use your GPS!"
Flying steady, Jacques practiced some slight turns. "Computer," he said, "let's see an altimeter and GPS on my HUD, with dots for the Commander and Lieutenant."
Yes, Jacques. Little interfaces sprung up at the edges of his visor. He checked these and changed his course, towards Jensen.
"Commander, how wide is this ravine? I don't think we should—"
"Oh, nonsense, Pérez. Someday this kid's gonna have to take his training wheels off."
Jacques saw the ravine and flew down towards it; near the ground he swung a hard up-pitch and, steadying shakily, stood with his feet down and hovered towards the ground. The crevasse was hardly more than a long crack in the ground, maybe thirty feet wide at the most. Jensen was standing there looking down it, and Pérez landed just behind him. The other two left the starcomm; Jacques shut his off too. Then they all powered down their SDs with voice commands.
Pérez shook his head. "Commander, this is too small," he said. "I'm sure you can manage, but we shouldn't put Ensign Delende through something like this on his first day."
Jensen was muttering to her wrist: "…first sixteen-hundred meters, and report back." Her SD detached and flew away into the ravine, blue light flashing from its front lens, darting around obstacles and reflecting the occasional sliver of sunlight. Jacques noticed there were also spots of purple glow coming out from below. Jensen said: "What do you think, Delende? Ya scared?" She smirked.
He glanced back at the Lieutenant. "I'm guessing that 'hover mode' wouldn't let me fly though here with any kinda speed, huh Pérez?"
Pérez crossed his arms. "Correct. And I know flying can be exciting, but some risks just aren't worth taking. Hover Mode is for your own safety; any one of us could die down there. We've got plenty of time to learn carefully, and then have races, or whatever."
Ruefully, Jacques hung his head. "Yeah. Sorry Commander, I'm gonna stay here I think. Get some more practice up in the air."
"Fair enough," she said. "I can scout this here divot on my own, I'spose. Still, it's a shame. I was hopin' for Double or Nothin' on that bet we made earlier…" Her drone came zipping back up the ravine.
"Double or Nothing!?" he cried. "Tomorrow's Saturday, there's no rover trips to get saddled with! What is it you're doubling here?"
Jensen grinned. "You rookies get weekends off. Me, I've got paperwork, and other boring shit. Was thinkin' maybe I could put your rover duty against my busywork; either you get today off, or I get tomorrow."
Jacques shook his head. "I shouldn't be making these bets with you, Jensen. If you can out-fly me in something I actually understand, there's no way I'm beating you with the SDs. Gonna have to do better than 1-for-1 if you want me to risk getting chopped up down there."
"Smart," she said. "That's Commander Jensen… or 'Cori' to you. Alright kid, how 'bout this: If you win, you get next week off, and the loser has to wear the cheerleader outfit all weekend; along with the original rover-for-busywork bet."
"...cheerleader outfit?" Jacques glanced at Pérez, who smirked.
"She likes to bring Props," said the Lieutenant. "For… 'initiation'."
"Not tryin' to catch a charge or anything, you can wear it over your blue-and-whites," she said. "But wouldn't it be something if you were the one who made the C-D-R do all that, emasculated her and so on?"
Jacques thought this proposition over. I'm probably going to lose, he realized. But… "Alright, throw in drinks tonight and I'm down."
Jensen smiled, excited, and her drone reattached to her back. Lt. Pérez prodded Jacques, and muttered: "Don't see why you bother, Delende. You're a fast learner, but like you said: she's gonna beat you, in all likelihood."
"Eh, how bad can it be?" Jacques shook the Commander's hand; the bet was set.
"Alright," she said, "this gash here tunnels down and along, then pops back out some twelve hundred-odd yards that way." She pointed past the far end of the ravine. "First one out and landed aground's the winner, and watch out for the pillars and stalag-whatevers down below. Pérez, you gonna be our starting gun?"
"Hold on," said Jacques. "Gotta know where I'm going. Send me that map your drone made down there." Jensen huffed and opened her holotab from her wrist.
"So what," said Pérez, "three, two, one, then go on 'Go'?"
"Works for me," said the Commander. "Map should be there for ya, Ensign pom-poms."
Jacques got the 3D map of the ravine and cave-tunnel up on his HUD. The whole path looked perilous and narrow. "Computer," he said. "Turn off 'hover mode'."
Alright Jacques. Obstacle Hover Safety Mode has been deactivated. Be careful.
He scoffed. "Not gonna be any falling rocks down there, right Commander?"
"Where'd all this confidence come from, rook?" she asked. "Nah, this ain't gonna be no Death Race. These S-Ds are nice and precise… but don't be afraid to take it slow when things get tight."
"Yeah right," he said. "You too."
"Let's get it, then!" She stepped up to the edge of the ravine and crouched low, like a swimmer about to dive. "Pérez!"
Jacques gawked and ran up to the cliff-edge. He looked down again at the craggy crack, the shadows. There was a certain dizzying quality. "Computer, uhh, put the SD's light on, huh?"
Alright, it's on. Would you prefer to put it in automatic mode?
"Oh, yeah. Do that."
Jensen asked him: "You ready or what?"
"Yeah," said Jacques; he shook himself. "Let's do this." What am I doing, what am I doing!? he thought. This is insane!
Pérez stepped up to the edge, arms crossed. "I'll reopen starcomm when you two get under, and then go find the exit hole. And Ensign: no shame in turning back or slowing down if it's too much."
"Alright, alright," said Jensen, "You're not his mom. Let's have that three-count."
Lieutenant Pérez spoke louder: "Alright, on 'Go', and I want a good clean race. You ready?" Two SDs hummed to life; both pilots nodded. "Okay… Three, Two, One: GO!"
Jacques and Cori dove in and fell; they'd both done sky-jumps more than once, and knew the form to maximize terminal velocity: arms flat at their sides, straightened, visors forward. Jensen swerved an up-pitch at a gentle angle high from the bottom; Jacques waited a bit longer, and then boosted forward harder, drifting and shooting along about parallel to the floor of jagged rock below.
He'd given the map a good once-over before they'd started, and picked out at least three good paths through the caverns, which were full of pillars and walls, including some dead ends. The left of these three was pretty straight, and could connect to another good path at several openings; he went in.
The starcomm buzzed on. "I've found the exit," said Pérez. "Good luck you two, I'm here if you need. Shutting up."
"Roger that, L-T." She was still above Jacques, though they were about even on the horizontal. He'd need to figure something out to get ahead. Well, something besides plain-old speeding up; his pinkies and ring fingers weren't quite shut tight, but he was waiting for a good straightaway (or some final desperation) to really floor it. 'Palm it'?
He wove through the glittering orange-gray tunnel, with great speed but only gentle turns. "What is all this purple shit anyway?"
"That's the thraxite, or whatever," said Jensen. "You know this is a mining mission, right Delende?"
Pérez piped in: "Mining and Research, Commander. Isn't just rare minerals we're after, to power all these interstellar flights and space races. Knowledge is the mission, most of all."
"Huh, don't they say 'Knowledge is power'? Like, for example, knowin' the optimal path through all this shit!" Jacques heard a rush of wind and looked up; Jensen turned sharply down a side passage, and then was out of sight behind a wall.
Shit! I should've mapped out the straightest line! He frowned; there wasn't any rush at all to start the race. She'd had more time with the map; he should've taken an extra minute. He dodged between a set of stalagmites, then gave his SD some more juice.
Ahead, this tunnel took a wide rightwards quarter-turn, and narrowed slightly. He decided to roll right so his body would be on the outside of the turn, testing an instinct: he was the weight and his drone the power, so if he swung wide, he could manage the turn better with the drone's wings flat to the air drag. His maneuver worked, and he pressed his SD harder as the tunnel straightened out. He was in the center of it, and even so each wingtip (the span was maybe… six feet across?) was mere inches from its respective wall.
He checked the map again, the area ahead, and said: "Computer, map me the fastest route from here to Lt. Pérez, and add that to my cavern map there."
Okay Jacques. A trail of lines blinked into existence amidst his map.
He took a curve then squinted. "Computer… am I gonna fit through there? With the SD here and everything, can I make those turns?"
This trail has a very low margin of error, Jacques. I estimate an 88.4% success rate if the Automatic Piloting System of the 2SD attempted this path with a human passenger. Would you like me to find a safer route?
"Nah," he said. He frowned, determined. I'm better than some damn calculator. He shot ahead, keeping between pillars where stalactites and stalagmites met.
He took a tight turn, then another into a pinch of rocks where this tunnel split off. Then he was out into a wider tunnel, but ahead he'd have to dodge a place where the cave dipped downwards, thinned to the extent that he'd have to be wings-flat, where the cave was less than six feet high; any kind of roll would take him down. Commander Jensen was still a dot on his map, and not in the same passageway as he, but: ahead of him, clearly on track to win. He grunted and went down into the low, wide tunnel, accelerated once more. He completed a rightwards strafe at a fork, then went up, then down, then had to make a twisting roll as his upwards tunnel bent sharply right. Hey now, I'm getting' pretty—
The cavern zig-zagged right like Escherian steps; it was wide enough, but he had to yaw back and forth rapidly to avoid the stepping walls. Then he had to go slightly upwards, past a notch in the stone—his left wingtip hit a wall, and he was catapulted forwards. The human instinct when careening into a crash is to protect one's head, which may have saved him: the visor was pretty strong, but if it broke… P314 had some atmosphere, just not enough that humans could really breathe it. Unfortunately, he kept his fingers somewhat bent, and so he spun more quickly as he hurtled towards the ground.
Jacques, is everything alright? Your flight pattern has become erratic. Would you like me to enable Obstacle Hover Safety Mode?
"HELP!" he shouted. He hit the ground back-first, grunted as the drone dug into his spine; his right wing buckled, cracking by the force, and he rolled to a halt.
Alright, I've enabled Obstacle Hover Safety Mode. Your 2SD appears to be damaged, should I call for assistance?
"DELENDE!" shouted Jensen in the starcomm. "You okay back there!?"
Groaning, Jacques lifted himself off the ground. "I'm alive," he said. "Think my SD is fucked, though."
"Haha, oh, of course you are!" she cried. "We're comin', kid, sit tight! You're lucky I always bring an extra one!"
"Commander, I'm on my way to Ensign Delende's position with medical supplies. Ensign, how are you feeling?"
He stood and stretched his back. "Ugh. I'm good, Pérez, it's just bruises. Probably better if you stay topside, don't need any more of our shit getting broken down here."
"…alright. Commander, make sure to check him for concussions. And Ensign… please use the automatic coming out."
"Roger that, Lieutenant. We'll go slow, and keep you posted. Don't go soiling your panties, over and out."
His SD was busted up bad enough that its light was off, but there was a small flashlight built in to the lower rim of his helmet. He was going to turn it on; the faint purple glow off thrascite flakes in these caves wasn't really enough to see. But he saw something strange: a stronger glow coming out of a distant cavern. Head cocked, he followed that light.
"Delende," said Cori Jensen. "I told you to sit tight, and that's an order. Where the hell're you going?"
"Commander… you're gonna wanna see this."
Jensen joined him in the lit-up cavern, where there were, along with a few large outgrowths of glowing purple crystal, something they hadn't seen and hardly expected: many twisting, leafy vines of a lighter purple (lavender-ish) color, scraggling up and around the walls and ceiling, and in some places coating the crystals. Both pilots looked up and around, awestruck.
"Commander, what is it? What did he find?"
Jensen scratched her shoulder. "Welp, guess I see why we brought a botanist."
What these two didn't see, or at least didn't see as remarkable, were irregularities in these plants, this organic life they'd found on a planet trillions of miles from Earth: there were sets of little holes in some of the leaves. In some ways the holes were irregular: not all leaves had them, some had many, and the holes made little lines in a few different directions, at seemingly random points on a given leaf's area. But always in straight lines, holes the same size and set the same distance apart, and always sets of three.