When she was done, she closed the last crate and stood up. McKinley approached and took the scanner from her, following the same sequence he’d done for his earlier items to make the screen by the door light up again. He then moved back over to the screen and studied it carefully. She was sure he was checking to see if she’d made any mistakes. She hadn’t.
Giving nothing away, he raised his hand to the touch screen, ran his fingers over it for a moment, swirling and tapping here and there. The screen emitted a few more beeps, then seemed to shut itself down. As soon as the screen was off, he exited the store. Carrie shook her head and laughed to herself. She couldn’t believe he was going to continue on like this, but she wasn’t going to give up, so she followed him out the door.
They walked along the corridors and down into the bowel of the ship, which was crowded with cargo, a small escape pod emblazoned with the name Borealis, rows of electrical panels and the onboard weaponry. Eventually they came across the engine team. Carter was typing something into a wafer-thin screen panel, while Brown and Colt were standing by one of the electrical panels, checking things over. Carrie exchanged a look with Colt that indicated she was having an equally good time.
“Ah! Arizona!” Carter looked up from his screen.
McKinley walked up to him. “Weapons store checks are done. Results should be with you now.”
Carter tapped at his screen for a moment. “Affirmative. Results received. Sending off with the onboard weaponry now.”
“Have fun, ladies,” McKinley smiled sarcastically as he turned and walked off. Carrie followed him, and when they arrived back up at the main corridors, she decided to break the silence.
“So, where are we headed, lieutenant?”
He turned around and gave her a look as if to say, You still here?
“Weapons are checked. We’re done,” he said plainly.
“So, what about the induction?” Carrie asked.
He stopped, turned and looked at her again, his blue eyes reflecting some kind of amusement.
“Captain Harris instructed you to provide me with an induction to this ship?” she reminded him firmly.
He chuckled. “I know what the captain said, corporal.” He continued walking for a moment, then pointed off to the left at a set of double doors he was passing, “That’s the ship’s training facility. We’ve got a fully equipped gym and shooting range in there. You might want to check it out …” he glanced over his shoulder, “and practice,” he smirked.
Carrie’s eyes narrowed. Suck it up, she told herself. Suck it up.
The rest of her induction was much the same. He pointed her to the various doors of the places she needed to know, but never actually took her inside. When he was done, he swaggered back to the mess hall, walked up to the counter and started talking to Louis and Smith who had been checking the kitchen stocks. She couldn’t hear what McKinley was saying, but the three men started laughing and looking over in her direction. She stood at the door for a moment, undecided as to what to do, but suddenly noticed an observation window on the wall opposite. She gravitated toward it and peered out. She couldn’t see much other than the next ship to theirs, a little way off, but wondered just what kind of view it would provide when they were finally out in space.
She heard the soldiers laugh again, and turned back, just as Doc entered the mess hall. The medic glanced at the three men at the counter, saw them laughing in her direction, then he veered over toward her.
“Corporal Welles,” he greeted her. “How’d it go? Looks like you got through your checks pretty quickly.” He looked at his watch.
Carrie thought about her answer before she gave it, practicing some restraint, “Yeah, we did. We just got down to it and got straight through it, sir.”
Doc looked as though he suspected she wasn’t being completely honest. “And your induction? How did that go?”
She smiled sardonically, unable to hold back this time. “I saw a lot of doors that led into a lot of rooms that I didn’t actually get to see.”
“Oh …” Doc said, trailing off as he looked at the men then back at her. “Maybe he’ll give you a full induction after we take off.”
Carrie gave Doc a doubtful look. “Sure, sir.”
The medic scratched the back of his head in thought, “Listen, Lieutenant McKinley takes a while to warm to people, but he’s a good guy and a good soldier.”
Carrie scoffed. “He’s a prick!” she shot out, but immediately regretted it.
Doc let out a laugh and nodded. “He can be. But he’s also your senior officer, corporal. Hang in there, it’s only been a couple of hours!”
Just then Doc’s name was heard being spoken in the conversation between the three men at the counter, and more laughter ensued. Doc turned and saw they were looking over at the two of them.
“Excuse me,” he said, as he turned and walked toward them. They had a few brief words before Louis and Smith went back to checking their stocks, then Doc and McKinley seemed to have a private word for a moment.
Soon enough the engine room team entered the mess hall. A sense of relief settled over Carrie, and Colt must’ve felt the same way too, because she headed straight in her direction.
*
Harris made his way to the mess hall at 1840 where he knew the soldiers would be waiting after completing their final checks. When he entered he noticed the team sitting in two very distinct groups, with the women sitting on their own in the far corner of the second table. To be expected, he told himself.
He pulled his personal data port from his belt, and brought up the necessary screen to enter his authorization for takeoff.
“Engine room team,” he called loudly, his voice booming. “Have your checks been completed?”
Carter stood up. “Sir, yes sir! All engine room equipment and onboard aircraft weapons are A-OK, sir!” he boomed back, and then sat down.
Harris tapped the screen of his PDP, locking in the authorization, then looked up again. “Flight deck team! Have your checks been completed?”
Hunter stood this time, “Sir, yes sir! All equipment on the flight deck has been checked and is A-OK, sir!”
Harris tapped the screen again, as Hunter took his seat. “Weapon store team! Have your checks been completed?”
McKinley stood, “Sir, yes sir! All weapon stores have been checked and are A-OK, sir!” He sat back down.
Again Harris tapped his PDP. “Stores team! Have your checks been completed?”
This time Doc stood. “Sir, yes sir! All medical and general stores have been checked and are A-OK, sir!”
Harris prodded his PDP a few more times, before clicking it back on his belt holster. “Alright, soldiers!” he bellowed, glancing down at his watch. “We have fifteen minutes and counting! Assume your departure positions on the flight deck!”
*
Carrie watched as Harris left the mess hall. The remaining soldiers followed protocol, staying seated until the pilots, Hunter and Bolkov, along with Packham, had risen and left the room. Carrie and Colt exchanged a glance, then followed the rest of the men out, as they walked quickly and silently toward the flight deck.
As they reached the deck, Carrie stood at the door, not really knowing where to go. This was one of the doors that McKinley had shown her, but of course they had not gone inside. The flight deck was set out in a tiered format, with stairs down the left-hand side. On the lower tier she saw Hunter and Bolkov seated at the control panel positioned in front of the ship’s large observation window, hitting buttons and turning various dials. Packham sat off to the side, observing them. On the next tier, in a central seat at a long table, was Captain Harris. Seated to his left were his senior officers, Doc and McKinley, and to his right, Brown, the ship’s engineer. The last tier, the level on which Carrie was standing, was where the other soldiers, Smith, Louis and Carter were seated, to the left of the aisle. Following Colt, she sat on the right-hand side.
They s
trapped themselves into their seats tightly, and Colt gave her an encouraging smile. Carrie figured it was her way of saying, Good luck for your first flight. Carrie sat there watching intently, soaking it all in. Hunter was talking into his headpiece. Bolkov seemed to be responding. Their hands darted here and there over the various controls. Harris was watching closely from his tier above them.
Carter and Louis shared a joke at the end of their row, looking at both her and Colt as they did. McKinley and Doc obviously heard what was said and looked back at them too. Doc looked curious and McKinley looked smug. Captain Harris did not turn his head at all. Carrie ignored them, trying hard to look cool, calm and collected. However, she realized that trying to look cool, calm and collected was actually probably making her look more nervous. She felt her palms sweating.
At that moment, an unidentified male voice came over a loudspeaker. “UNF Aurora this is Ground Control. Do you receive? Over.”
Hunter responded. “Ground Control, this is UNF Aurora. We receive you. Over.”
“Aurora, your final checks have been received and confirmed. You have clearance for takeoff. Over.”
“Ground Control, roger that. We are ready for takeoff. You may start the countdown at your ready. Over.”
“Aurora, copy that,” the voice said.
The loudspeaker went quiet. Hunter slowly pushed a stick forward on the control panel, causing the ship’s low humming sound to increase dramatically. A loud beep sounded over the speaker and another male voice with a crisp English accent was heard.
“T minus 30 seconds to takeoff …” it said.
“We’re ready to rock ’n’ roll, captain,” Hunter called over his shoulder.
Harris pulled a small disc out of his pocket and tossed it to Bolkov, who caught it, then inserted it into a slot on the control panel.
“T minus 20 seconds to takeoff …” the voice called over the loudspeaker again.
Hunter looked at Bolkov and they nodded at each other. Bolkov adjusted his headpiece and Hunter grabbed hold of the large U-shaped control stick in front of him. He inhaled long and deep, then exhaled evenly.
“T minus 10 seconds to takeoff,” the voice called again, only this time it was followed by singular beeps, marking the final countdown.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
There was a loud thunderclap as the ship jolted forward violently, like a slingshot. Rushing through the air, the ship began to shake slightly, as though it were struggling and an intense pull was holding it back, but after another second or two it jerked again, and the soldiers were suddenly thrown back against their headrests as the Aurora surged in an arc, skyward. Through the window ahead, the sky swiftly turned from the orange-pink of the setting sun, to gray, and then to an inky black, as the Aurora hurtled for space. A fine white mist lingered over the window, rather eerily, as a thousand tiny white lights seemed to dazzle their way onto the flight deck, luring them onwards. Hunter was holding the stick tightly, his jaw clenched in concentration. Under his rolled-up sleeves she could see the muscles in his forearms straining, veins bulging. Bolkov looked a little easier, reading measurements on the control panel.
The pull of the force was quite strong now. Carrie felt as though she was being pinned to her chair by a ton of invisible weight. She tried to move her hands but couldn’t. This went on for about sixty seconds, until it seemed to even out a little and the pressure dropped slightly.
“Rock on, Bulk!” Hunter yelled.
Bolkov reached forward, hit a button, and suddenly the loud crunching sound of an electric guitar came over the loudspeaker. Carrie took a few seconds, but soon identified it as Jimi Hendrix’s version of Bob Dylan’s “All Along the Watchtower”, a song she remembered her grandmother playing to her. The volume was pumped loud, drowning out the noise coming from the ship. She saw a smile come over Hunter’s face, despite the concentration and strain it still held.
“There must be some kind of way out of here …” Jimi began to sing.
Brown looked over at Captain Harris and smiled, his head nodding to the music, and the rest of the soldiers were in various states of smiling or laughter. Carter, too, was nodding his head to the music. She wasn’t quite sure how they were doing it as the pull was still too strong for her. She glanced at Colt, who also had a big grin on her face, and despite herself Carrie was beginning to smile at the insanity. Here they were shooting through the Earth’s atmosphere at a ridiculous speed, being thrown against their seats, heading toward a distress signal they knew very little about, with a team of strangers, cranking Jimi Hendrix over the PA, and they were loving every second of it.
The song eventually hit its lull and Jimi’s guitar began to play a beautiful melody that seemed to slip and slide over the background beat. Carrie suddenly felt a bit emotional as she looked out at the starry space shooting through the window toward her. This was the first day of the rest of her life. She’d made it. She was on Space Duty. She was on her way to space …
“Outside in the cold distance … A wildcat did growl … Two riders were approachin’ … And the wind began to howl …”
When the song finished, the men were whooping, hollering and clapping, and then more Jimi ensued. After about twenty minutes, the ship seemed to even out a little more, and the force pushing Carrie against her seat suddenly eased off considerably. As it did, however, she felt her stomach turn … She held herself still and tried to swallow the large bubble of air gathering in her throat. No, no, no! she pleaded with herself, you CANNOT throw up! Not here, not now! Keep it down! Keep it down! Focus on something!
She looked over at Hunter. He was still holding the control stick but only in one hand now. He reached over with his free hand and flicked a switch.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he called over the loudspeaker in a posh voice, “the seatbelt sign has been switched off. You may now leave your seats … and get the fuck off my flight deck!” he finished with a not-so-posh tone, smirking to himself.
Harris shot him a look, raising his eyebrows. “Whose flight deck?”
“Nice one, Hunter!” Carter called out as he stood.
“Yeah, fuck you very much!” Louis cascaded in his French accent. Hunter lifted his free hand and flipped him the bird. Bolkov laughed.
Colt turned to Carrie, “How cool was that?” Then she seemed to pause. “Y’alright?”
Carrie nodded, but dared not to open her mouth to speak. She pretended to busy herself with undoing her harness. The captain stood and headed for the exit, glancing at the women as he passed. First at Colt, then at Carrie, his eyes lingering a moment on her face, making her feel uncomfortable. The rest of the second tier then filed out: McKinley eyeing her and grinning to himself, Brown making eye contact but giving nothing away. Doc came next and he too looked at the women carefully, especially Carrie. She looked away, feeling as though she was sweating from every pore.
“You sure you’re okay, Welles?” Colt said quietly under her breath, looking ahead, not wanting to draw attention “You’re looking pale even for a white girl.”
“Fine,” she managed, looking down to see Packham staring up at her too.
Carrie waited for the rest to leave, hoping they would be long gone down the corridor by the time she made her exit. When she eventually emerged from the flight deck behind Colt, she felt a little shaky on her feet. The ship was still at a slight angle and occasionally gave a shudder and a shake. Just outside the door, a voice startled her.
“You okay, corporal?” It was Doc, studying her face carefully.
Colt glanced back, but kept on walking.
“I’m fine, sir,” Carrie gave a nod.
“You look a little ill. You’re not queasy?” he probed.
She shook her head.
&nb
sp; “It’s a very normal reaction to get queasy during takeoff. It happens to a lot of people. When the ship evens out and the pull eases off, it’s like your stomach is doing a somersault or something. You get used to it after a while, but the first couple of times it can throw you … pardon the pun.”
Carrie really didn’t want to talk about her stomach right now. “I’m fine,” she assured him, turning around to follow the others.
Doc walked alongside her. “Well, if you decide that you are feeling queasy, just come and see me and I’ll give you a shot to take care of it. Alright?”
She could see out of the corner of her vision that his eyes were narrow, watching her closely. She nodded again, trying to walk normally, but desperately avoided stepping too hard on the ground. Her stomach needed a minimal amount of vibration right now.
“Where’re we headed?” she asked, changing the conversation and trying to distract him from his analysis of her.
“Mess hall. You hungry?” He gave her a little smile, like he was challenging her to admit she was sick.
Carrie tried to keep a plain face, as a bead of sweat rolled down her cheek. The thought of food right now was not a good one.
“Sure,” she said, managing a weak smile.
When they reached the mess hall, everyone lined up at the counter. Louis and Smith took up their positions and began pulling dishes out of the ovens. She tried to let Doc go ahead of her, but he stood back.
“After you,” he said.
She reluctantly walked ahead of him, but avoided looking down the counter at the men scooping the food onto their plates. She saw Carter sniggering, just waiting for her to falter. Just hold it in … It’s nothing. You can take this. You can do it. You cannot look weak. Even Colt looks fine. You can’t be the only one!
When it came to her turn in the line, she held out her plate, but pretended to be looking around at where she was going to sit. Anything to avoid looking at the food.
Darwin Page 8
