The gee forces pressed Branson and his crew back into their seats as the onboard computer adjusted their attack angle and Spaceship Seven blasted almost vertically away from the launch site.
The pilot and copilot on board of White Knight III nervously watched as Spaceship Seven climbed into space. The rocket engines became dimmer as it arced away from them. They advised Spaceport USA of their status and banked to the heading that would set them up for the return to their own launch site.
*****
SOMEWHERE IN NORTH KOREA –
Major Anton Golovanov stopped to take his bearings. He sat in the shade of a tree on the side of the hill next to a burbling brook.
He refilled his canteen with the water from the stream and added two iodine pills. He put the cap back on the container and shook it for a few minutes.
Then, he took a sip of the flat-tasting water and grimaced sourly. It sure wouldn’t beat vodka as a refreshing drink, he thought. Then he chuckled at the thought and admonished himself for having watched too much Western television.
He thought about drinking straight from the brook, knowing there was no way it could possibly taste worse and willing to risk the potential infections from Giardia.
He decided against it, not ready to take a chance of damaging his unusual youthful physique.
Golovanov had been traversing the mountains and villages of the area in which his bomber had crashed in North Korea for almost 3 weeks. His initial survival supplies had only lasted a few days.
After he had landed in the mountains, he took pains to avoid contact with anyone. Occasionally he came across a patrol of what look like North Korean soldiers. He would stay well hidden and managed to go undetected.
On the third day, he decided he would strike out east for the Sea of Japan and hopefully image to travel North to Vladivostok.
He was not certain if this was a good idea considering that he had no real idea of the extent of the nuclear war.
Communication seemed to have been affected adversely by the inevitable electromagnetic pulses that were present from the detonations of the nuclear weapons.
It was possible, he thought, that Russia may have even utilized the space-based EMP satellite system that had been orbiting since the 1980’s.
But, in that case, he felt there would be more evidence of electrical disruption, and he had seen cars and even a plane. He managed to avoid having to engage anyone aggressively, but he was prepared to shoot to kill if needed.
During the second week of his travels he discovered he could supplement his food supplies from many of the abandoned houses in the villages that he passed.
At first he would only take cured meats or canned goods, and then walk some distance into the woods to consume them.
When he realized the extent of what The Wave had done to the population, he became more brazen and quietly walked into houses, taking what he needed.
In the third week, he actually holed up for four days in a house that had running hot and cold water, electricity and working toilets.
He luxuriated in a hot shower for over an hour washing the grime and dirt from his body.
His instincts got the better of him, however, and he left after determining that he really needed to continue to the coast to find out what happened.
He had had no luck with the television or computer systems he had encountered. He overheard an occasional radio report as he passed by some of the villages. He could determine nothing substantive from them.
Once or twice he approached a single individual and attempted to communicate with them. However, the language barrier prevented any meaningful exchange of information.
He was wondering if he had to kill these people to avoid being detected, but quickly understood that he was irrelevant.
They were not interested in him at all, only in their own conditions.
Soon he was making good time on foot.
*****
One afternoon while walking past a farm, he stood stock still and began to laugh. He had been passing cars for several weeks and never thought to take one.
He shook his head at his foolishness and began to try to find a working vehicle. During his travels, he had passed many cars that were abandoned at various places on the roads. There were many accidents, but usually few bodies.
He thought he could figure out what happened.
Many of the people who were driving the cars had suddenly regressed to a physical age where their bodies no longer allowed them to reach the controls. In this case, it was likely that they would crash.
In other cases, many of the people probably were disoriented, confused or frightened by the transformation. Again, it was likely that these persons would lose control of their vehicles and crash.
He felt sorry about how many pedestrians or passengers in vehicles were injured or killed when the drivers suddenly were affected by The Wave.
He remembered the look in the pilot’s eyes of the Blackjack bomber of his squadron as it lost control.
It was total fright and panic, and he could easily understand that if a military trained pilot could become unbalanced to that degree that most people would fare even worse.
*****
Anton walked along the path towards the farmhouse, eating uncooked beans from a can and found, to his delight, a Unimog.
It was an ugly, utilitarian truck, but he knew that it would serve its purpose to get him much closer to his goal - and it sure beat walking. He chuckled at the euphemism, evidently picked up from watching too many American television programs.
He looked inside to see if the keys were in the ignition and to his surprise they were. He took his gear and settled it on the passenger seat.
Then he slid into the driver’s seat and started the truck.
Setting the throttle choke appropriately, he put the vehicle in gear and drove off from the farm, heading in an eastward direction, using dead reckoning.
About 10 miles down the road, he pulled over to the side, angry with himself.
He jumped out of the cab and walked to the back of the truck, where he pulled down his zipper and urinated onto the side of the road.
The cold air caused steam to rise from the increasing pool of urine, and he muttered and cursed under his breath at being so very unprepared and ill-informed as to where his actual destination lay.
He looked around and saw no other vehicles or people. He stood there for several minutes thinking as to what would be the best plan of action.
While he was in the military the Major participated in several Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape (SERE) exercises with the 45th Guards Spetsnaz Regiment.
With a Level 1 risk of being captured and interrogated, Anton new that it was important for him to remain able to act independently.
Anton thought that it was probable that he could team up with other individuals if only he could manage to establish some common ground.
As far as he could tell from his observations, both clandestine and overt, everyone he saw was in the same condition as he. He mentally checked off his observations.
He had not seen any elderly people during his walk.
He had seen no infants.
*****
Occasionally he would pass teenagers or children who usually were huddling in groups.
Almost everyone looked shell-shocked and uncertain as to whether or not this situation was actually happening.
One time, he had come across a group of boys who were raping another boy.
Anton weighed whether he should become involved, and decided the best he could do was to fire some warning shots in their direction.
He hid behind a warehouse wall and instead of shooting towards them, changed his mind and only shot into a waste can. Then he ran to the other end of the building, laying on the ground and peeked around the corner to see what the effects of his noisemaking were.
The boys were obviously agitated from the sounds of the gunfire, and one of them took out a knife and quickl
y beheaded the boy who was being raped.
Then the remainder of the gang ran off shouting and giggling.
Anton was sickened by the experience.
He berated himself for not having done more but was not sure of what else he could have done.
He felt he had wasted valuable ammunition.
He felt that if he had shot all of the boys, he would be murdering them for his own purposes of revenge.
He felt bad, but had been through enough battles to realize that human behavior could be very barbaric.
He was outnumbered, it was true, but he felt that was a poor excuse for not trying harder to save the boy.
But mostly, he felt shamed and humiliated that he acted in a cowardly fashion, and the boy had died from his lack of conviction.
He resolved to do better if he encountered another situation such as that.
But he secretly hoped he wouldn’t have to be tested in that manner ever again.
"Ridiculous yachts and private planes and big limousines won't make people enjoy life more, and it sends out terrible messages to the people who work for them. It would be so much better if that money was spent in Africa..."
-- Sir Richard Branson
"Lightning is something which, again, we would rather avoid."
-- Sir Richard Branson
“We have always known that commercial space travel is an incredibly hard project.”
-- Sir Richard Branson
Chapter Sixteen
419 KM (260 MI) ABOVE EARTH IN AN ORBIT APPROACHING THE ISS –
Spaceship Seven was on an approach vector that would intercept the ISS in only ten minutes.
Sir Richard Branson, relaxed, marveling at a sight he was sure would never cease to amaze him.
In several unannounced test flights, Branson had substituted as pilot at the last minute, in total secrecy.
What would the Boards of his various companies think of him risking his life like that? They would have been aghast at his recklessness.
So, he only chose to not inform them of his adventures.
Sir Richard actually had more actual flight time in the Spaceship Two series than any of the ‘test’ pilots. It was a small victory he did not lord over any of the other team members, but it allowed him to unequivocally jump into the left seat at any time.
As Spaceship Seven floated towards the ISS, Branson listened to music on the ships comm channels. The band was busy counting stars, and so was he.
He grinned at the serendipitous juxtaposition and luck that had allowed him this unique opportunity.
He wondered again at what exactly had allowed the forces of The Wave to only affect the physical organic nature of his body, and yet manage to retain memory and skills.
During the time when The Wave changed him, he was only aware of the light of the sky looking odd.
After many minutes, he was startled to realize that he was no longer a sixty-four-year-old man. He looked down and saw that the fillings from his teeth and the pins he had from one of his old skiing accidents were lying next to him on the ground.
When he had recovered from his shock, he looked around at his surroundings, trying to be sure he had not gone insane.
The music continued playing, the main vocalist letting Sir Richard know that everything that kills him also makes him feel alive.
Sir Richard fervently hoped that OneRepublic was wrong about that killing part.
*****
ABOARD THE ISS –
After the docking maneuvers had been completed, Sir Richard was welcomed aboard the ISS. He and Sonya had a few heartfelt moments of contact, but there was not really any time to be wasted. The docking had severely affected the temperature imbalance, for some reason, and the inside of the ISS was becoming unbearably cold.
“We need to abandon ship, my friends!” said Branson.
“What about the science mission data drives?” asked Nicolai.
“If they are not aboard in five minutes, they stay,” commanded Armstrong.
Nicolai and Sonya shrugged and moved into the cabin of the small shuttle.
Cooper had an aluminum briefcase that she pushed towards the hatch, and Sonya caught it.
“That’s all the ones I could nab while we were waiting for the space-taxi,” Cooper said. “It includes the majority of the Soviet data, I think.”
“Thank you,” said Sonya.
The astronauts and the crew of Spaceship Seven situated themselves amid the seating in the craft. Armstrong let Branson enter and seat himself in the left seat and then managed to strap himself down in the co-pilot station.
Sutton had moved to the position behind Branson, and the others began strapping themselves into the remaining seats.
“OK, Commander,” said Sir Richard. “Here we go.”
Branson spoke to Miss Moneypenny, and the craft filled with music, as Avici began to blare from the sound system.
Armstrong was not usually an emotional man, but he choked back a sob as he looked out the window at the dwindling carcass of the ISS. A lot of effort had gone into getting it up there, and now it appeared it was going to just become veritable Flying Dutchman, inhabited only by the ghosts of its former occupants forever.
The music playing from the speaker provided an engaging soundtrack for the automated undocking process, as Branson carefully tried to gauge if he needed to intervene manually.
Spaceship Seven separated from the ISS and began to drift away.
As it did, Branson turned up the volume on the speakers.
“Time to wake up, people!” he yelled, grinning.
*****
The astronauts looked down on the Earth, not sure to what they were returning.
The craft automatically oriented itself and began the re-entry maneuvers.
Spaceship Seven attained a belly down attitude, and Branson and Armstrong watched as the altimeter began declining. The airspeed indicator showed nothing, as they were still above the atmosphere, where it would be effective. However, the GPS satellite telemetry indicated that the craft was exceeding the operational parameters of the re-entry profile.
“Umm, Sir Richard, don’t you think that we’re coming in a bit hot?” asked Armstrong calmly.
“I see it. Adjusting now,“ Branson replied.
Spaceship Seven flattened out a bit, as the bow attitude thrusters shot out jets of gas.
Avici informed the crew that love was the prize as the craft buffeted.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and a panel flew off the nose of the ship.
As it whizzed past the cockpit viewports, it bounced against the side of Spaceship Seven and dented part of the stabilator empennage.
The onboard AI announced, in the voice of a severely caricatured Oriental man, that “Elvis Aaron Presree, you fuck your mother – in the ass!”
“What the hell!?” exclaimed Armstrong.
“Well,” said Branson, deadpan, “it is a prototype. There’re still a few bugs in it.”
The look on Armstrong’s face demanded a more prosaic explanation, so he continued.
“It’s a code modification I made to Moneypenny…no time to explain now! It means there may be a few minor issues needing my immediate, undivided attention,” replied Sir Richard.
Armstrong looked at him and began to laugh.
“Everyone seal up your suits!” Branson said.
“Shit!” exclaimed Armstrong.
He was trying to ignore the flashing red alarms, which he knew from experience did not indicate good things were afoot.
He reached up and pulled the visor down over his face, and latched it shut.
Unable to turn around and see, he asked for a sound off of the others. Everyone replied in the affirmative.
Spaceship Seven entered a steep dive towards the ground. It plummeted and as it headed down, the empennage detached.
Avici helpfully and tunefully informed the crew that he didn’t know he was lost.
“Whoops!” said Sir Richard.
/> “This might be a bit dangerous!”
“How dangerous?” asked Cooper.
“Well, I wouldn’t start reading any long novels, if I were you,” he said with a tight grin.
“Elvis Aaron Presree, you fuck your mother – in the ass!” said the AI.
“Ummm,” said Armstrong, “Can you maybe shut that thing off? It’s mildly offensive.”
The other astronauts were attempting to deal with the fact that their survival was now in the hands of a man they were certain must be a certified lunatic.
The strain of trying to control the craft was etched on Branson’s face.
The tendons on his neck stood out, and sweat began to pour down his face.
Armstrong started to grab at the co-pilot’s yoke, but Branson yelled “Stop! No!” and he backed away.
“Elvis Aaron Presree, you fuck your mother …!” said the AI.
“Quite enough of that, now, Moneypenny. I know of the problem,” said Sir Richard, as he piloted the aircraft through high altitude clouds.
Branson pushed several buttons and flipped a few levers back and forth. “Give me altimeter, velocity, and vertical acceleration, in that order, every ten seconds. Mark!” he said.
“Twenty-eight thousand meters, four thousand meters per second, three hundred meters per second,” said Armstrong.
“Just the values, please,” answered Branson. “We’re definitely too hot,” he grumbled.
He threw two plungers home, and another loud bang could be heard.
“Elvis Aaron Presree, you fuck your mother – in the ass!” said the AI.
The vehicle lurched quickly, spun to port, and then inverted.
“Whoooops! That’s fun!” said Branson, meaning exactly the opposite.
He fought to control his stomach, now gurgling and rumbling from the sharp jolts and sudden changes in attitude.
Three of the crew could be heard vomiting in the headset feeds.
“Sorry, try to not let that happen again!” he said.
As he piloted Spaceship Seven, it spiraled like a badminton bird, fluttering up and down, and side to side at sickening speed.
However, Branson’s maneuver had at least enabled the speed to be bled off, and he took the chance to engage the two emergency rescue parachutes. The chutes shot back and deployed, straining against the force of the wind blast.
Terminal Reset Omnibus: The Coming of The Wave Page 23
