The Bridge

by Simon Winstanley

  She reached the forward compartment and stepped into the cockpit where Lana, Ivan and Abel were already seated.

  “About thirty seconds,” Abel called out.

  Raven stowed her backpack but kept hold of the soft case. It made putting on the harness a little more difficult, but she wanted to have access to her grandfather’s program during the flight.

  When she was sure that the seat straps were securely in place, she opened the soft case and pulled out what appeared to be a simple computer tablet. As she ran her hands over the surface, Lana looked over at her.

  “What’s that?” she said.

  Raven tapped at it thoughtfully, “Something to keep me occupied on the journey.”

  Both her parents shook their heads and turned to focus on the launch.

  A low, pulsating vibration travelled through her seat and, with a lurch, she felt the ship leave the ground.

  •

  As the Bergstrom’s manoeuvring jets fired, seventeen years’ worth of fine dust scattered from the floor underneath it. The light cloud billowed out causing the crowd to take a step back. Some people laughed, others coughed in disgust, but Devon gave no reaction at all.

  With his hands in his pockets, he kept his back to the camera and watched the ship begin to rise toward the axis. If the downdraught was just right, he thought, the camera framing might even capture his jacket flapping heroically in the wind.

  “Yeah, that’s perfect,” Trudy talked to her cameraman, “You can cut there.”

  “So,” he turned away from the ship, “this will make the next bulletin?”

  “Absolutely,” she nodded earnestly, “In this business, second place equals last place.”

  With a bright smile, she swiftly departed with her cameraman.

  The Bergstrom was now becoming smaller by the second as it continued its vertical rise, the crowds tilting their heads to watch the ascent. For many of them, the ship signified their hopes and dreams for a better future.

  He realised he was the same, but for different reasons.

  He spotted Toby making his way through the crowd and took a deep breath.

  “How did the delivery go, Mr. Dwight?”

  “The triplets?” he said, “Safely aboard.”

  “Fingers crossed then,” Devon watched the ship rise higher.

  “Within a week,” Toby said, “Your market will be back in the right place.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw that Trudy was returning so he adopted a smile. However, he saw that she hadn’t come to speak with him. When she was only a few feet away, she stooped to the ground and picked something up.

  “Almost forgot the wide-shot footage,” she held up her recube, “Should look amazing.”

  As quickly as she’d arrived, she departed again.

  Maintaining his smile, he desperately tried to recall what he’d said in the last few moments. It was possible that the tiny recube had caught his conversation with Toby.

  His words had been fairly nonspecific, but Trudy was resourceful. There was always the chance she’d be able to infer something. He’d been careless and, unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to let the matter lie.

  “That,” he sighed, “is a genuine shame.”

  THE BERGSTROM

  The rise from the surface was slower than taking the Greenwich elevator, Lana thought, but she knew it was because of the delicate balancing act that the Bergstrom was trying to perform.

  Although their mass was constant, their apparent weight was decreasing as they approached the central axis. If they went too fast they’d overshoot and begin descending, upside-down, on the far side of the cylinder. If they went too slow, they wouldn’t have enough momentum to reach the zero gravity region.

  Through the forward window, Lana could see the landscape continuing to fall away. Adding to the overall sense of disorientation was the distant Greenwich Hub tower. Its relative location, about ninety degrees around the cylinder’s circumference, gave it the appearance of a tapered, horizontal beam that connected the surface to the axial sun.

  “Transition,” Abel noted, “Counter thrust.”

  Lana knew that Fai could have handled the departure, but Abel had wanted to get used to the controls again. She felt the upper manoeuvring jets give a tiny burst, and slowly they drifted to a halt at the axis. They were now occupying the space that had once held the old ISS.

  Immediately she remembered the last time she’d been here. She’d placed the ashes of Cathy Gant and Mike Sanders aboard a reconfigured ISS; the same vessel that was holding a critically injured Miles Benton.

  Now it was her turn to leave the Eridanus.

  Ivan reached out and took hold of her hand.

  “OK?”

  She nodded and gave his hand a squeeze, “Da.”

  Abel flicked on the intercom.

  “Welcome to zero gee,” he spoke to the passengers in the main compartment, “Fai has begun the Field-cycling routine to allow us to exit, so please stay in your seats.”

  He flicked off the switch.

  “Fai, please run the automated exit sequence.”

  “Understood,” Fai’s voice came over the cockpit speakers.

  Lana felt minor station-keeping thrusts and the view through the window became rock steady. Reaching out her other arm, she took hold of her daughter’s hand.

  “A little higher than you’re used to, yes?” she asked.

  “Wow,” Raven’s eyes gleamed as she grinned from ear to ear, “What a view.”

  “Exit tube Interior Field deactivation complete,” said Fai, “Reverse thrust.”

  Slowly, the view of the Eridanus began to recede.

  As the Bergstrom continued to reverse, Lana saw the sides of the narrower exit tube come into view around them. This section of the Eridanus had never gone through the terraforming process, so the surrounding surface was like lunar rock.

  Old memories of FLC poker games and CO2 filter-runs came to mind and she found herself squeezing Ivan’s hand again.

  Another thruster burst brought them to a halt, framing the Eridanus interior within a loop of lunar rock.

  “Tube midpoint,” Fai reported, “Reactivating Interior Field.”

  She saw the briefest flicker of light as the inner protective Field came back on. Whatever happened next, she thought, at least the interior space would be safe.

  “Exit tube Air Buffer evacuation.”

  Abel flicked the intercom on again.

  “We’re now in the tube between the inner and outer airlock. Fai’s just storing the air back inside the Eridanus, but we’ll be underway soon,” he flicked the switch off, “I remember flying in this way… hardly seems like yesterday.”

  “Time’s like that,” Lana nodded and looked between her husband and daughter.

  Fai reported that the extracted air had been safely stored, then after a brief pause her voice returned.

  “Exit tube Exterior Field deactivation complete. Transfer to EVA mode.”

  “What’s EVA?” Raven asked.

  “Extra-vehicular Activity,” Abel replied, “We’re moving outside.”

  Lana remembered various alternate meanings for the acronym. Looking beyond the circle of grey regolith to the Earth tones beyond, she recalled another of her FLC colleagues.

  Another reverse thrust brought her back to the present moment, and the exterior rim of the exit tube slowly came into view.

  As the bright interior light continued to shrink into the distance, the cylinder’s exterior became more visible; a vast sprawl of lunar surface stretching away in all directions.

  Lana became aware that she was holding her breath, so forced herself to breathe normally.

  “Beginning counter spin,” Fai reported.

  Slowly the massive surface in front of them began to rotate.

  It took her a moment to readjust her frame of reference. The spin that had given the Eridanus artificial gravity was no longer needed by their ship. The motion she was seeing was actually
the effect of the Bergstrom cancelling out the spin of the Eridanus.

  After a short burst of thrusters, the rotation speed of the Eridanus appeared to become constant.

  “Counter spin complete,” Fai confirmed.

  Lana could see that they were now well and truly outside the influence of the Eridanus.

  “We’ve got one more manoeuvre to go,” Abel was speaking into the intercom, “then it’ll get easier, I promise.”

  “I’d no idea it was so huge,” Raven was leaning forward to look through the window, “It’s one thing to see it in a diagram but…”

  “Beginning yaw,” Fai announced.

  The rolling, massive wall of moon rock began to shift sideways; they were starting to turn away from the cylinder’s open end. Lana watched the lunar surface spinning past outside the window. Suddenly she saw the cylinder’s outside edge; a sharp line that defined the end of the Eridanus and the jet black of space beyond it.

  “Whoa,” Ivan reacted and tightened his grip on her hand.

  By the time she looked back at the window, the Eridanus had moved out of view. There was only black.

  “I don’t see it,” said Raven, “Where’s Eri?”

  Ivan glanced over at her, “We’re on an orbital intercept. It’s just not in view yet.”

  “A bit like a baseball,” Abel added, “We have to throw ourselves to where we want to be caught, even if we can’t see the catcher.”

  “Bergstrom,” the speaker sounded, “This is Houston.”

  “Go ahead, Houston,” Abel smiled.

  “We read separation complete, please confirm.”

  He checked the console, “Confirmed.”

  “Fai is going to transfer operational control back to your onboard computer.”

  “Understood.”

  Lana knew it would have been preferable to have used a ship with integrated Fai control, but the purpose of the trip was to provide verification that didn’t depend on Fai. It seemed the only true way to convince the Eri doubters.

  One by one, lights illuminated on the console in front of Abel.

  “Houston, I have the helm.”

  “We read your flight plan as in sync with Fai’s model. Minimum fuel intercept course will expire in T-minus thirty-five seconds.”

  “Roger, Houston,” he read the panels, “Ignition.”

  Lana felt a jolt, followed by a sustained force from the back of her chair; the conventional thrusters had fired. They were underway.

  “Thirty-one seconds,” Abel kept his eye on the fuel gauge, “Burn termination in… three… two… one.”

  Lana felt the acceleration suddenly stop. They were now travelling at a constant velocity.

  “Ivan, how’re we doing?” Abel glanced over, “T-minus twenty-six.”

  “Tracking,” Ivan studied the resulting trajectory on his display.

  Lana knew that if the trajectory was out by more than a tenth of a degree, they could miss the planet entirely.

  “Course trim. X point zero two,” Ivan began locking in the corrections, “Y point zero one. Lana, go.”

  She faced the Chronomagnetic Field control panel.

  “Bringing Biomag network online,” she pushed the button.

  Small red indicators came on around the cockpit, and her console reported the protective network was also operational throughout the passenger area.

  “Setting temporal ratio,” she selected the 2400:1 multiple, “Core charging. Set departure status to commit.”

  “Fifteen seconds,” Abel called out.

  “Tracking corrections,” Ivan’s eyes remained glued to the Bergstrom’s vector diagrams.

  On her screen, Lana saw the Field geometry expand.

  “Haken manifold horizon,” she called out, “Activating primary containment.”

  A shudder passed through the ship and she exchanged a look with Raven. She was doing her best to look brave, but Lana knew this couldn’t have been easy for her. Lana herself had been through this procedure aboard the ISS, but she still found the process unnerving.

  “OK?” she asked her.

  Raven gave her a fast nod but then gripped her seat tighter.

  “Ten seconds,” Abel’s voice got louder.

  A vibration began and a tone came from Lana’s screen.

  She turned just in time to see the diagram change; the sphere around the ship distorted and then twisted through itself.

  “Eversion event,” Lana called out as the vibration began rising in pitch.

  “Structural’s intact,” Abel checked multiple displays. “Five seconds!”

  Lana immediately looked at Ivan; he had to give final word on their trajectory. Once the Field was activated, reaction thrusters would be unable to correct their course.

  “Course stable,” he said, “Do it!”

  Lana pushed the console button.

  “Field inversion synchronised,” she called out, feeling every cell in her body align with the core, “Here we go!”

  She felt the core fire. A blurry wave of echoed time passed through her, but then the nausea dissipated and the ship became suddenly quiet again.

  A new noise filled the air and she turned to see Raven vomiting into her sickness bag. Immediately, Lana’s previous experience of zero gravity came to her aid. Unclipping her own harness, she pulled herself expertly across the small gap to be by her daughter’s side.

  “It’s OK,” she comforted her, “You’ll be alright… It’s just what Anna Bergstrom called space-time sickness.”

  “Oh…” her daughter retched again, “well it’s bastard horrible.”

  Lana couldn’t help laughing. The nausea absolutely warranted swearing out loud, but she’d never heard Raven use that particular phrase.

  “Where did you get that from,” Ivan was now laughing.

  “My grandfa-” she broke off.

  Both Ivan and Lana exchanged confused looks. The last time they’d gone through the Dubois historical records had been years and years ago. It seemed that Raven had been making her own, more recent, investigations.

  “Raven?” Ivan pulled himself over to her.

  “I’ve been speaking with my grandfather,” Raven wiped at her mouth.

  Ivan turned to Lana, “Could this be Field-sickness? If she thinks -”

  “Dad, I’m fine,” she interrupted, “Fai made an interactive program from his records. He’s been tell-”

  “Is this it?” Lana retrieved a tablet that was floating in mid-air.

  Raven nodded, “I’m serious, he knows things.”

  “Like?” Ivan tilted his head slightly.

  Raven looked between them both.

  “If I can power it up, you can ask him yourself.”

  Lana raised a sceptical eyebrow.

  The view through the forward window was a solid black. If the calculations were correct, it would remain that way for at least an hour. Having some form of visual distraction might not be a bad idea, she thought. They might even learn something new.

  NEW ZEALAND

  The main display turned on.

  “Nice work, Rachel,” Nathan called out as he moved swiftly through the control room.

  The large screen showed a radial sonar trace.

  “There,” Vasily pointed to a small shadow in the upper right of the circle, “Either it’s a glitch we can’t squash -”

  “Or it’s land,” Megan completed from the back of the room.

  Nathan nodded, “We need to know.”

  “Should we send up a drone?” Dixon volunteered.

  “The range is a little on the long side,” he pointed at the sonar’s scale, “Let’s get a little closer. If it is land, we’ll know soon enough.”

  “And if it’s still a system glitch,” said Rachel, “the screen won’t change.”

  Nathan picked up the main circuit handset and, via the speakers throughout the Britannia, informed everyone aboard of the intention to move. The announcement gave him a definite sense of relief; he finally had a des
tination to head for, even if he wasn’t sure what they’d find. After a few minutes, once everyone was in place, he gave the order to proceed.

  Eyes fixed to the screen, he waited for the sonar to update.

  He felt the familiar shift in inertia return; a subtle sensation within his inner ear that told him he was in motion.

  The screen refreshed.

  The faint shadow stretched out; a ragged line that ran tangent to the circular display.

  “Is that land?” Marcus’ voice came from behind him.

  The screen updated again, this time the sonar was clearer; a well-defined but chaotic weaving trace. All coastlines of the world looked similar in the absence of scale; a side effect of their chaotic nature. But given their approximate latitude and the direction of the dawn light, there was only one place in the Pacific this could be.

  “New Zealand,” Nathan smiled.

  He heard laughs of relief and claps from around the room and turned to face them all.

  “Let’s get underway,” he said, “Vaz, keep an eye out for debris.”

  Over the next half-hour, the Britannia closed in on the coastline, and Nathan authorised the deploying of a drone to assess the state of the shore. The screen that had shown the sonar now displayed the feed from the hovering camera. The Britannia deck dropped away rapidly as the drone took off.

  “Steady, Dixon,” Nathan spoke quietly.

  “Sorry,” he replied, “Too much juice in the battery.”

  “Enthusiasm has nothing to do with it, right?” Megan teased him.

  “No comment,” Dixon smiled but kept his eyes on the flight.

  The seawater sped by under the drone and the coastline started to become clearer.

  “You’re recording this, Marcus?” Nathan checked.

  “Of course,” he said.

  The splash of breaking waves was now visible on the approaching shoreline.

  “Maybe you could add it to your video logs,” said Rachel.

  Marcus appeared lost in thought for a moment.

  “After the ARC,” he shrugged, “I dunno… feels like that sorta thing’s over.”