The weather was horrible. It had changed for the worse almost everywhere on the planet. Rain was pounding down in torrents. Bertrand had assured everyone that the Copernicus could handle it and more besides. As their bus entered the relative quiet of the hangar, they passed a crew that had just finished fueling the ship’s wing tanks in preparation for launch. They piled out of the bus, boarded Copernicus without a word to each other and sat in their assigned seats. The ground crew strapped them in as they went over a preflight checklist.
Doug grinned as Foley gave him the thumbs-up. They were going into space, and would be among the first humans to set foot on another planet. The situation was incredible.
“Stan, we’re going to be the first human beings to set foot on another planet, and we’re getting there in a ship designed for interplanetary travel.”
“Yeah, except we won’t be the first humans to do so, they’ve already done it,” Stan replied, nodding in Carl Bertrand’s direction.
“Come on, you know what I mean. Don’t rain on the parade,” Doug said, as he gave Foley a knock on the shoulder with his fist. Foley smiled.
“You’re right. We’re pioneering explorers from Earth. They’re going to name a school after each of us.”
Doug allowed himself a moment of pride and excitement. It would fade soon enough as he reminded himself of the stakes. They dare not fail. But for the moment he felt very young again, going on one of the greatest adventures imaginable. The other thing the training does, Doug thought, is keep you so busy that you don’t have time or energy to let your ego get in the way of anything.
The ship was towed from the hangar by an aircraft tug and positioned on the tarmac, the sound of wind and rain buffeting the craft. Bertrand started the jet engines. The low whine was barely audible inside the Copernicus, another indication of the engineering refinement of the ship. After a few minutes of system checks, Jamieson reported to the control tower.
“Mission, this is Copernicus. We’re ready to roll,” Jamieson said into his mic.
“Roger Copernicus. Take position on runway one-niner-left and await clearance.”
“Confirmed, mission. Runway one-niner-left,” Jamieson replied and nodded to Bertrand, who applied power. They taxied toward the designated runway. Jamieson continued writing log information on a clipboard and intermittently communicating with the control tower. The air traffic controller’s voice could be heard over the instrument panel speaker. Bertrand rolled the Copernicus past the threshold marks and put the nose wheels perfectly on the runway center line.
“Mission, Copernicus ready for take off,” Jamieson reported.
“Copernicus, may your mission be a success. You are cleared for take off. Good luck, and bring back a souvenir or two for us.”
“Roger mission, count on it,” said Jamieson.
Bertrand rolled power on and the Copernicus accelerated quickly. It took off and climbed normally for the first few thousand feet, then accelerated upward at an angle of approximately 60 degrees, much steeper than any airliner, a lot more like a fighter. There was a lot of wind noise and buffeting as the ship ascended, more than was usually experienced during a typical airliner climb.
“A lot of people don’t know that even close to the ground, the atmosphere is layered, mostly according to heat and moisture content,” said Foley, loudly enough to be heard over the din. “Due to our speed we’re punching through those density layers faster than normal, and it’s a rough ride. It’ll smooth out soon enough.”
Doug nodded. He was well aware of the cause of turbulence in aircraft, but he figured Stan was a little nervous and voicing the explanation helped to keep him calm. Sure enough, as they ascended the turbulence lessened.
Jamieson reported flight status, crew monitoring status and other details, receiving acknowledgements and summary results of telemetry observations from the ground. It all sounded technically glib and important, but it was activity representing little more than ingrained habit. If something went wrong, only Bertrand had deep control over ship systems, so the technical exchange had more to do with NASA and its partners wanting to sound authoritative than anything else. There weren’t any ground control interfaces that could be used to access any systems on the Copernicus.
Since the crew seating was centered in the ship, the port and starboard windows were too far away for a good look outside, but Doug had a fairly unobstructed view through the windshield ahead of the pilots. There was nothing to see but sky, which grew darker with each passing minute.
Soon they were at 90,000 feet travelling at Mach 4, the point at which the computer shut off the jet engines and engaged the primaries. They felt themselves shoved back into their seats once again as the ship punched through the thin atmosphere and into space.
After a few moments the power was eased back. The launch was timed so they would rendezvous with the large fuel tank as it orbited over the Pacific. The computer throttled back the engines and made small course corrections to match orbital velocity with the tank. The crew experienced weightlessness as the engines were reduced to minimum power. Doug felt his stomach rise, as if he was at the apex of a rollercoaster ride.
“Oh damn,” Stan said.
“You all right?” asked Doug.
Stan held both hands over his mouth. Doug was afraid his friend was about to throw up and so he reached for an airsickness vacuum mask from the overhead panel. Stan shook his head.
“No, I’m all right,” he said. “Get that away from me, I need to concentrate on something else.” Stan took a few deep breaths. After a moment he nodded to Doug and gave a weak smile, indicating that he was feeling better.
About a minute later the computer shut off the engines completely. Doug configured the seatback display in front of him to show a view of Earth, which took up most of the screen since they were in low orbit.
“Beautiful,” said Stan. “I hope this is being recorded. I’d love to show my wife when we get back.”
“I’m sure it is,” replied Doug. “She’ll be thrilled. So will Janet.”
The Copernicus drifted towards the tank, which came into the windshield’s view as the smaller maneuvering thrusters engaged. Doug’s attention was drawn to the conversation between Jamieson and Bertrand.
“Closing speed looks a little high,” said Jamieson.
“I concur. The tank has experienced upper atmospheric drag over the past few weeks, making it slower than we calculated,” replied Bertrand. “Disengage autopilot. Let us pass by the tank, then slow down and let it come to us.”
Doug and Stan listened and watched intently. The tank was looming larger in the windshield. Doug gripped the hand rests tightly. It looked like they were on a collision course.
“Port side thrusters, five hundred kilos for five seconds,” said Bertrand.
“Roger, port thrusters, five-hundred kilos,” replied Jamieson, as he kept his eyes on the control screen in front of him.
There were faint bursts of hiss coming through the hull as the thrusters moved the ship. The tank filled the bottom quarter of the windshield, and was getting larger. Nobody said a word as they watched it drift closer. Finally, it passed out of view, under the ship.
Doug called up the anterior view on seatback display and saw the tank slowly getting closer to the ship as the Copernicus continued to reduce velocity to let the tank approach. Simultaneously some text appeared:
Fuel tank connections extended
They could all feel the small thruster adjustments. After less than a minute there was a thud and then a clank followed by more text on the screen:
Fuel tank locking system engaged
“After a short systems check we will be on our way,” said Bertrand. “A reminder, once the system check is complete we will need to remain seated for approximately five hours as we accelerate to maximum speed. After that you will be free to move about the ship.”
Moments later the engines engaged and the ship reached maximum acceleration. They experienced approximatel
y two earth gravities acceleration, so they were pressed firmly into their seatbacks. Any object or person not tied down would be thrown toward the back of the ship. The conformal seats spread their body mass evenly to minimize the discomfort, but their increased weight meant they needed to be careful when eating and drinking items from the nutrition package strapped to the seatback in front of them.
Foley broke off a small piece of a lunch cracker and held it about a foot in front of his face, motioning Doug to observe. He let go of the cracker and it flew back into his mouth. It was the expected result of course, but it was amusing to see it fall backward rather than to the floor.
After fifteen minutes the acceleration felt tiring, then fatiguing, but the five hours went fairly quickly because the crew was also absorbed with the intricacies of the configurable individual control displays. They could call up various views of the Copernicus exterior, including the slowly receding earth as they travelled away from it, dark space ahead, filtered views of the sun, their parabolic course around the Sun plotted on a map, with the present and future positions of Earth and FLO, basic ship specifications, speed and other technical information, and various stored entertainment programs.
Doug cycled through and sampled a few programs and movies. Naturally, all the entertainment had been produced on FLO and very little of it was familiar. Foley pointed out with amusement that there were no Godfather sequels, and Harrison Ford only had a bit part in Star Wars, the character of Han Solo being played by an unfamiliar actor.
Doug reminded himself that the two Earths were identical up to about 1970. After that things had diverged, with differently evolving politics, economics, international alliances, and of course people.
Individuals were steered into different directions as random circumstances dictated. In the early years similar lives were common, but as time marched on there was greater divergence. Couples who met on Earth did not necessarily meet on FLO, and vice versa. Doug and Cheryl were one of the very small handful of people born after 1970 whose lives were nearly identical on both worlds, to the point where the two of them met and dated.
Even when the same couples met, if they had children their conception occurred at different times, so in such cases the offspring were unique individuals. Brothers and sisters to their counterparts on the other Earth, not identical.
– 58 –
Daniel Santos, age 20, was getting angry. He distinctly heard the customer, a bigger man in a suit, ask for a Combo #3.
“I asked for a Combo 4 dumbass,” the man said. “Are you deaf or stupid?”
“Sir, if you don’t want it I’ll give you a Combo #4. But you asked for a Combo #3.”
“You calling me a liar?” the man sneered at him. “You goddamn high school dropout.”
Daniel was furious, but he needed this job. He kept calm and moved to replace the items in the bag. The man reached over and grabbed his wrist.
“I want a new bag dumbass, now that your greasy hands have been fumbling around in it.”
Daniel quickly pulled his arm free of the man. His first instinct was to lash out, but he paused and made every effort to keep his cool.
“Sir, don’t touch me. If you’ll chill out, I’ll—”
“Hurry the hell up, you incompetent dickhead.”
Daniel had enough. He tossed the bag at the belligerent customer. The Manager saw what was happening and walked over.
“Daniel! Go in back to the office to cool off.”
“No, this mother—”
“Get in back!” He turned to the man. “I’m sorry sir.”
“I want that idiot fired. He intentionally got my order wrong and threatened me. If you don’t fire him I’ll call the police,” said the man in the suit.
Daniel lunged toward the counter but was restrained by the Manager and another employee. The man strode out of the restaurant without his order.
Five minutes later Daniel walked out, his last paycheck in his hand. On his way home he kicked a side mirror off of a car. He felt persecuted. So many freaks in the world. Everyone is a freakin’ slave to the system, he thought. Everybody’s a sheep except me.
Daniel had been born and raised in the Seattle area. The crime rate in the city was at an all-time low, as it was almost everywhere, but crime still existed and it was still a problem. Daniel was involved in a botched kidnapping when he was fourteen. His older cousin was a fervent anti-Mekhos activist and recruited Daniel into his gang’s plan to kidnap the mother of Norman Stravinsky and hold her for ransom. They were inept. They did not even know what Stravinsky’s mother looked like, only where she lived. They failed to account for a change in her schedule and ended up kidnapping Stravinsky’s housekeeper instead.
There was some group infighting and panic, resulting in a shooting which wounded the housekeeper. She survived but would never work again. The leader of the gang, Daniel’s cousin, was shot and killed by a police sniper before Daniel’s eyes. Daniel served six months in a youth facility.
Then as a seventeen year old, he and a friend were in the middle of breaking into a pharmacy when the police arrived. There was a shootout. Daniel was shot in the jaw, and was left with scarring and permanent numbness on the right side of his face. Daniel was again tried as a youth offender and convicted of assault with a weapon, and served a year in a special program.
His crimes were serious, but in a low-crime society the emphasis was on turning offenders into productive citizens. As part of his sentence he was sent to a military-style boot camp, the idea being that discipline would help train some of the anti-social feelings out of delinquent young men. He learned how the chain of command worked and was proud that he got high marks during his training, but his anger at the world remained. A few months of rigid training could change some bad habits and behavior, but it couldn’t erase the influences of seventeen years of disadvantage.
The Raim removal key revocation program had only been instituted in the last year, so those who had been sentenced prior to that would still have a legal removal key. Daniel didn’t like being spied on so he never wore the Raim. He paid cash for everything. When he didn’t have his own cash he borrowed from his mother.
Daniel walked down the back cement steps to the door of his rented apartment in the basement of a house. He hoped the landlord wasn’t home. He didn’t feel like listening to her drunken ravings upstairs. The apartment was small, but comfortable. The windows were tiny and covered with thin curtains for privacy. He collapsed on the couch, flipped through some songs on his smartphone and then closed his eyes.
Daniel got into the tune, nodding his head and swinging his forearms down into the couch cushion in time with the music. Despite his eyes being closed he noticed the light dim. He opened them to see a large man standing directly in front of him, blocking the light from the window. He was startled but his fright quickly turned to fury as he recognized the belligerent man from the restaurant.
Daniel lunged to his left to grab a heavy ashtray from his end table, and rose from the couch, swinging the ashtray at the man’s head. At the same time the man had moved a step closer and raised his own arm, blocking Daniel’s attack, causing the ashtray to fly behind him to crash heavily into the shelves in the corner of the room.
The man stepped sideways quickly then planted his foot and shifted his arm from a hard block to a position under Daniel’s left arm for a shoulder lock. The man bent his knees slightly, shortened his grip, then suddenly lifted. Daniel screamed in pain as his elbow joint was hyper-extended. He tried to punch with his right fist but the man shifted his weight and twisted, shoving Daniel onto the couch. The man kept Daniel’s arm locked and jammed one knee on his chest. He applied just enough pressure on the arm lock to create pain.
“I got you fired today. But I did it to offer you another job. A dangerous job that will pay you fifty thousand dollars to help smash the system. Virtue needs you, Daniel.”
Daniel’s expression turned from an angry grimace to surprise as he heard the strang
er say the name Virtue. The clandestine group that opposed the system and opposed the hated Mekhos.
“How much did you say?”
– 59 –
Although there were scientific experiments assigned to the crew, much of their time was devoted to discussions and drills associated with the mission. Each team member was assigned a presentation schedule, where each of them were expected to lead a discussion on points and procedures.
Each team member had been given enough training so that they could fill in for any another member in an emergency. As team lead, Doug spoke with each of them about contingency plans and protocols, and even the possibility that any one of them might end up speaking directly to Mekhos. It was a reason to review Miekela’s script and to discuss machine psychology as much as they could.
“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Jamieson. I’m more comfortable with physical logistics and security.” Foley nodded in agreement.
Doug knew Jamieson was being modest, or perhaps had only a slight lack of confidence when it came to the idea of dealing with a thinking machine. All of them were capable individuals, and Jamieson’s graduate degree from MIT proved he had the analytical smarts to step in if needed.
Foley might be another matter, Doug thought. He’s moody, more withdrawn than usual, and is sleeping more than he should. For the first time, Doug was beginning to seriously doubt the stability of his friend, and was growing more suspicious about why he was chosen to go on the mission.
As the Mission Commander during the flight, Bertrand also had various scientific duties, as did co-pilot Jamieson. Dr. Persaud was tasked with monitoring the health of the crew and measuring their physical changes brought about by the weightless conditions. Some of the crew noticed a slight bloating in the upper body and blurred vision. Miekela talked to them about it as they gathered for a daily meeting.
Dark Nights Page 17
