by Mark Anson
‘Ladies and gentlemen, please stand back to let the passengers out,’ the gate agent announced over the PA. Nobody paid any attention, and just edged even closer to the barrier rail, waiting for the first sight of a colleague or a loved one. The first passenger appeared through the sliding doors, pushed in a wheelchair by one of the gate handlers. This was normal; after so long in space, most of the civilian passengers took it easy for the first few hours. Her partner came forward and embraced her the moment she was past the exit barrier, taking over the wheelchair, and then the others appeared, waving as they caught sight of the people waiting for them.
Clare hung back; her former crewmate Lorna Gray was one of the crew on the flight, and would be last out after all the logs had been signed off and the ship handed over to the gate handlers. Sure enough, the crowd had drifted off by the time Gray emerged – she caught sight of Clare immediately and walked over slowly, a broad smile lighting up her face.
Gray was thirty-one, a year older than Clare, and she had changed her hair since they last met; it was still brown, but she had let it grow out; it was much longer now, and tied back.
‘Captain Foster, fancy seeing you here.’
They hugged, and faced each other. Gray, the shorter of the two, looked Clare over.
‘Well, you don’t look thirty. I can’t believe it’s been six years.’ She shook her head. ‘And a captain now.’ She eyed the bars on the collar of Clare’s flight suit. ‘They’ll give anyone a promotion. When did that happen?’
‘Three years ago. I did mail you.’
‘I must have been in stasis. Shit, what else has happened that I don’t know about?’
‘Plenty, by the sounds of it. How are you feeling? Are you okay to walk, or can I get you a wheelchair?’
‘Hey, this is the Corps; we walk away from all our landings. Just don’t walk too fast. My legs aren’t as long as yours.’
Clare grinned. Gray would be having some difficulty even standing upright after spending over two hundred days in space, but like all the pilots in the United States Astronautics Corps, she wanted to walk away from the gate unaided; it was a matter of pride. They made their way slowly across to the luggage counter and claimed Gray’s single regulation holdall, which was all the crew were allowed. Gray didn’t argue when Clare took it for her.
‘Thanks. So, where to? I could do with a real coffee; that stuff they make on board tastes like hydraulic fluid.’
‘Let’s go through into the base. It’s not far; you can sit down when we’re there.’ Gray nodded, and followed Clare through out of the arrivals area and into the food court outside. There was a franchised coffee shop close by, and Gray collapsed into a seat with relief.
‘Jesus, it doesn’t get any easier. How long does it take you to recover after a voyage? I’m sure I’m getting worse.’
‘A few hours for the dizziness to wear off, and maybe a day to get the strength back in my legs. It’s not so bad coming here. Earth or Venus, they’re the killers.’
‘Yeah. Remember when we first met, on board the Langley, over Venus, and you’d just flown in? That was your first posting after training.’
‘Yes – and you had to lend me your dress uniform for dinner with the captain that night.’ Clare shook her head at the memory.
‘He’s a hero now, you know – they’re going to rename one of the new carriers the Donaldson in his honour.’
‘Really?’ Clare went quiet for a moment, remembering the events of the dark day six years ago, when the giant carrier Langley had been lost in a devastating storm over Venus. Captain Donaldson had gone down with the ship, staying aboard to make sure all the rescue craft got off safely.
Clare had testified at the hearing into the accident; she had been the last person to see the captain alive. The last words he had said to her, she had long kept secret. Donaldson was revered in USAC folklore now, he was going to have a ship named after him, and that was how it should be.
Gray was looking at her, as if reading her thoughts. If she had ever suspected that Clare wasn’t telling her everything, she never said so. Yet something always moved behind Clare’s eyes whenever the Langley was mentioned.
‘I can’t believe it’s been six years,’ Clare said eventually, shaking her head. ‘Where did the time go?’
‘In stasis,’ Gray said soberly. ‘How many times have you done the trip now?’
‘Three times now, if you include that first flight out here from Venus. I went back home in ’forty-four for my mandatory break, and came back here last December.’
‘Right. Six years might have gone by outside, but you’ve only lived just over four of them. Just think though; you’ll have aged less than everyone else!’
‘Hell, don’t we wish it worked like that,’ Clare smiled ruefully. They both knew what long-term stasis did to muscle tone. ‘I’m going back home at the end of this tour, and after that, maybe another two years out here, and that’s me done.’
‘What, for good?’
‘No, on long-haul. I’ll ask for a posting to the Home Fleet. Say, are we going to have that coffee, or what?’
‘Well, if you’re waiting for me to get them, think again. I can barely carry my own ass, let alone coffee.’
Clare got up and went over to the counter. Gray watched her as she stood there. Clare was taller than Gray, and slimmer; her high cheekbones (the left one still carrying a scar from the Langley accident) and sculpted face would turn heads for many years. Her ash blonde hair was tied back in her regular ponytail over her flight suit. She wore the uniform well, and with a quiet pride; Clare had always wanted to be in the Corps, and her position in one of the interceptor squadrons put her in the highest echelons of the service.
‘So tell me, shit hot lady,’ Gray said as Clare brought the coffees back, ‘tell me what it’s like to have your own ship, armed to the teeth with nuclear warheads? I’m still amazed they let someone like you loose with that kind of firepower.’
Clare grinned and sat down opposite. ‘I guess they must think I’ve become responsible at last.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘So, how was your journey?’
‘Two hundred and seventeen days in space from Venus to Mars, what can I say? I was in stasis for all but ten of them. It still doesn’t seem real, but here I am.’ She spread her hands.
‘Did they let you fly the landing?’
‘Nah. I was the co-pilot. Svenson did the landing. Didn’t you notice him rounding out too high on the turn onto finals? He’s never landed on a carrier, that’s for sure.’
Clare smiled. She and Gray shared the bond of both having being carrier-qualified pilots – and the disdain for those who weren’t. Landing aboard one of the big flying carriers over Venus was something Clare would always remember.
‘How long until you’re acclimatised?’
‘Twenty-four hours and a medical before I can report for duty.’ Gray stared at Clare for a moment, and then spread her hands. ‘Well, aren’t you going to ask?’
Clare sat back and smiled. ‘Okay. What are you doing here? I get a mail from you all the way from Venus, you say you’ll be here in January, and that’s it. No explanation, nothing. So spill.’
Gray drew closer to the table, and her voice sank to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Because … I … have been accepted … onto the interceptor training program!’
‘No way!’
Heads turned at the other tables, and Gray leaned back in triumph. ‘It’s true. It is. Seems that my impeccable flying, steady nerves, and lightning wit have come to the attention of USAC Command.’
‘But that’s fantastic! Do you know what ship you’re going to be posted to?’
‘Not yet. I’m hoping for one of the newer ones.’
‘The Arlington’s in orbit. You might get lucky.’
‘That’s got a nice ring to it. Captain Lorna Gray of the USSV Arlington.’ Gray looked up at the ceiling, savouring the words.
‘Hey, you’ve got to qualify first.’
‘Wh
at is there to worry about if you made it through?’
Clare laughed. She had forgotten how much she’d missed Gray’s attitude. ‘You can borrow some of my books if you want. The navigation course is a killer.’
‘I can read a computer screen; what more could they want?’ Her smile faded somewhat. ‘Seriously though, thanks. It’s been a while since I’ve been in school – I’ll take all the help I can get. Is it true you need to be able to calculate intercepts in your head?’
‘Yup. But only for the course. We use the flight computer in real life. It’s only in case the targeting computer … hey, you know all this stuff.’
‘Well, if I don’t, I soon will. Anyway, that’s my big news – what about you? You’ve got your own command now. When did that happen?’
‘About nine months ago, but I’d been assigned to the Mesa for three months before they gave me the command.’ Clare spoke in a matter-of-fact way, but it had been one of the proudest moments of her life, being given the command of one of USAC’s nuclear-armed warships. She remembered the previous captain handing the ship’s command codes over to her, and giving her a last piece of advice:
‘The Mesa’s a good ship, Foster, but a ship’s only as good as her commanding officer. There’s going to be times when you’re faced with a choice between taking a measured risk and succeeding, or getting out of trouble and saving the ship. Nobody’s going to make those decisions for you, or give you another chance if you get it wrong, but it’s those moments that make us captains. So go carefully, and good luck.’
She realised that Gray was staring at her; she had lost track of the conversation. ‘I’m sorry, what?’
‘I said, congratulations.’
‘Thanks.’ Clare smiled. ‘Say, what are your plans? You know I’m leaving tomorrow evening – are you up to going out tonight? We could have a drink, and a meal. It’s not up to much –’ she waved her hand around the general area ‘– but nobody’s died of a Martian burger yet.’
‘You forget I was based here on Mars while you were still learning how to fly. Of course I’m coming out. I’ll take a rest now and we can meet up in the Dive Bar at eighteen hundred – if it’s still going?’
Clare smiled. ‘Yes, it’s still going. Eighteen hundred is fine. I need to place a call to my folks and wait for the reply – we’re in comms blackout from tomorrow morning, so this is my last chance.’
Gray’s eyes widened slightly. ‘Really?’
‘Really. Nothing in or out, once the mission briefing starts. We’re searched for any comms device before we go in, and after that there’s no contact with the outside world except through USAC.’ It was a necessary step, taken to avoid the possibility of panic. Nobody outside USAC knew what the interceptors’ targets were, and they were never revealed until they had been successfully deflected.
‘It’s a different world,’ Gray said thoughtfully.
‘Needs to be. Remember what we’re packing.’
Gray nodded, and glanced at her watch ‘Okay, I’m going to try to make it to my quarters and get some sleep, or I’m not going to get out tonight. Will you carry my bag?’
‘Sure.’
Gray swung herself out from her seat and stood up slowly, grunting in the unaccustomed gravity.
CHAPTER TWO
Later that day, Clare was in her quarters, packing her holdall for the mission, when the reply came in from the message she had sent to her parents a couple of hours ago. She always spoke to them before leaving on a mission.
She gave it a few moments to buffer, and then pressed the PLAY icon on her comlink. It was hooked up to the large display on the wall, and she flung herself down on the sofa as her parents’ features appeared on the screen.
‘Hello dearie,’ her mother said, smiling at her from the kitchen of their home. Clare could see bright blue sky and the corner of one of the paddocks through the windows. ‘Blake, sit down, will you, she can’t see you if you’re moving around.’ Judith Foster was in her sixties, but didn’t look it; Clare had inherited her fine facial features and slim figure. Her mother’s hair was a very deep brown this time, and it suited her – she looked happy, affluent and well-groomed.
‘Hey, Cornflake.’ Her father moved into view, smiling broadly. He was dressed in a checked work shirt and blue jeans, and sat down next to her mother, a mug of coffee in his hand. A rooster crowed somewhere outside. He looked like he’d just come in from a morning working round the farm, which he probably had. Her parents lived on the same farm in Kentucky that she had been brought up in as a child.
‘Thank you for your message,’ her mother began. ‘We got it a little while ago, but I made your father go get a shave before we replied.’ She gave a sidelong glance at her husband, who rubbed imaginary stubble and smiled. ‘We’re both doing fine, thank you for asking. My blood pressure is down and staying that way since Doctor Benson put me on the new medication. Your father—’
‘Is perfectly fine,’ he interrupted. ‘I went to see Benson about some minor aches and pains I was having, and he said there was nothing wrong. It’s all a load of nothing, as usual,’ he said, dismissing her mother’s expression with a wave of his hand. ‘Anyway, I was pleased to hear that your friend Lorna made it out there before you set off on another mission, and that she’s been accepted into the Interceptor training program.
‘By the way, I saw your old schoolteacher the other day in town, and she asked if you could look her up next time you’re on Earth – she would love you to come into school one day and give a talk on life in the Corps.’ Her father’s eyes were proud, but he had always been proud of her. It had caused something of an issue between him and Judith long ago, his constant support of Clare in her chosen career.
‘And we’ve named the new colt – the one that we told you about last week – Mesa, in honour of your ship,’ her mother took over. ‘We were going to call him Trigger, but your father insisted.’ She spoke breezily, but Clare thought she could detect a trace of the old resentment under the surface, that Clare had gone against her mother’s wishes and joined the Corps.
‘Don’t you believe a word of that,’ her father retorted, ‘your Mom is as proud as I am that you’re the captain of an interceptor – why only last week I caught her bragging to Laura Pankhurst that—’
‘That I missed you being home, dearie,’ she interjected smoothly. ‘That Laura Pankhurst just deserved taking down a peg or two, the way she goes on constantly about her – her precious son and his dental practice, when my daughter’s in charge of nuclear weapons.’
Clare raised an eyebrow. Things had moved on more than she had thought.
‘Now, I know you can’t tell us where you’re going,’ her mother continued, ‘but I do hope everything goes well. You know we worry about you being in hibernation for so long, despite everything you tell us, so do let us know when you’re safe.’
‘Sometimes I wish I could put your mother into hibernation,’ her father said, ‘It sounds a great system – I could do with a few months to get things done round here instead of constantly having to entertain her friends.’
‘Blake – really!’
‘Just kidding, Jude,’ he said, before giving a faint shake of his head to the camera. Clare laughed quietly to herself. Her father was devoted to her mother, and always had been. His first marriage hadn’t been a success and they had parted after only six years, but with her mother he had found the partner and soul mate that he had always wanted. He was ten years older, but the age difference only seemed to deepen the affection he felt for her.
There was a short pause, and the two of them exchanged a brief glance. Clare was instantly alert; something was coming up. Her mother cleared her throat, and Clare recognised the signs of some major piece of news.
‘Now Clare, your father and I have been talking, and we’ve reached a decision. It’s not been easy for us these last few years, with – with neither of us getting any younger.’ At this, her father lowered his eyes slightly. ‘Anyway,’ she we
nt on, ‘I know you’re not going to like this, but – we’ve decided to sell the farm. It’s just too much work for us, and we need to be somewhere easier to look after. We still want to live outside the city, and we’ll still keep a few horses, but – well, I hope you understand.’ Judith Foster looked distressed; she knew how much Clare had loved the farm where she’d grown up.
Clare sat there in shock, listening to her father repeat much the same message. She had no idea the farm had been becoming a burden for them, but of course she was hardly ever there. Her home had been something she had always taken for granted, somewhere that she could come home to, and stay in the same room that she had occupied as a little girl, and go riding with her father round the far paddocks. A huge rush of nostalgia for her childhood washed over her, so intense that she had to pause the playback for a moment to let herself recover.
She knew she was being selfish; how could she expect her Mom and Dad to preserve the place just for her, when they were getting old? But there it was, she felt what she felt, and her eyes were moist as she went back to the playback, and the frozen picture of her mother, paused in mid-sentence.
‘—we don’t yet know where we’ll end up, and it could take a long time to find a buyer. But maybe when you wake up after your journey we’ll know more, and we can let you know then.’ Her mother stopped, and looked at Blake Foster, sat next to her. He looked up, and Clare was surprised to see the distress in his eyes. He loved the place almost as much as Clare did.
‘It’s okay, Cornflake,’ he said, ‘It’s been a hard decision, but your mother’s right. I can’t go on working like this, it’s a job for a younger man, and I’ve got to be more careful. I nearly had an accident the other week with the tractor, and, well …’ He didn’t finish the sentence. ‘We’re looking for a smaller place, still with some land, but something that’s easier for us to look after. I’m keeping Lancer, and another horse for you and your mother to ride, but I’m going to sell the rest of the stock with the farm. It’s really for the best,’ he said, smiling. ‘I know this place means a lot to you, but we need something that we can manage.’ He put his arm round her mother, and she uncharacteristically leaned her head on his shoulder. Evidently it had been a tough decision for both of them. Knowing that made it a little easier for Clare to bear.
