AMERICA ONE - NextGen II (Book 6)

by T I WADE

  “Think about my father and me,” added Mars. “I will be 13 years older, and much closer to his age. If we let them go around the solar system a few more times, I could be older than VIN!”

  “Didn’t think of that, mate,” replied Bob trying to figure out this astronaut stuff. It was far easier to fly planes, and go fishing, and he was already too old to fly anymore anyway.

  It took Captain Pete another 48 hours to get strong, and he and Mars were ready when the pinprick of blue shield came into view thousands of feet above them.

  “That’s right, Pluto Katherine, you are about over the airstrip. Hold your craft in hover mode once your forward speed hits zero, and as Maggie taught us, first get your craft absolutely stationary before you descend.”

  “Mars, I can’t get her below 25 knots forward speed. I touched the thrusters and we shot backwards at 55 knots. I touched the thrusters again and we shot forward at 35 knots. We are currently heading forward at 25 knots and sideward to port at 40 knots. I think I need to bring her in a circular pattern over the airfield. I can always set her up for a forward landing down the tarmac, over.”

  “Roger that, Pluto Katherine. A good idea,” replied Mars, worried. She was good, but only Maggie, Jonesy, and now he had blue shield flight experience in Earth’s atmosphere. Even he had used all his experience to get down, and even in the Matt craft, he hadn’t held her perfectly stable until sweating the final few feet.

  Slowly Astermine One came into view circling the airfield in rapid circles. They had no other choice, as she had been designed never to return to Earth and had no heat bricks on her underbelly.

  “Three thousand feet and forward speed increasing to 50 knots,” stated Pluto Katherine Richmond.

  “Are you still slipping sideways?” Mars asked.

  “Negative, the circling has rectified that problem.”

  “Pluto Katherine, this is Bob Mathews. Did you ever learn ‘downwind’ and ‘finals’ on your flight simulators on America One? Over.”

  “Roger, Uncle Bob. We played attack games with Spitfires and P-38s in the simulators. We had two of them, and when we came in to land, we had to follow approach patterns to the airfields, over.”

  “Great! Then follow the same pattern, a left-hand approach pattern. Head over the airfield and then begin your downwind leg for about a mile at about 2,000 feet. Work on flying in a straight line. Then turn to port 180 degrees to line up to the runway at 1,000 feet and bring her in on finals, over.”

  “Copy that, over.”

  “Those craft don’t have an undercarriage with wheels,” Mars told Bob.

  “We’ll get to that problem when she is over the runway,” replied Bob.

  They watched as the silent soap bubble changed course and at about 2,500 feet flew over them. Not a sound could be heard, and even the island birds had gone quiet.

  “About one or so miles out, 1,200 feet, forward speed 63 knots, Bob?” stated Pluto Katherine.

  “Bring her around in a left turn 180 degrees, aim for about 10 to 20 feet of altitude at the beginning of the runway. There is zero wind, temperature about one hundred degrees. I want to see what that soap bubble of yours does when it touches the tarmac, over.”

  They watched as the craft turned in and like a normal commercial jet with a soap bubble around it approached the simmering runway. Pluto Katherine came in perfectly. Her playing computer games had certainly paid off, a commercial pilot couldn’t have done better.

  “Eighty feet, 78 knots,” she reported as the runway began to slip by under her nose.

  “Bring her down ever so slowly,” stated Mars.

  About a quarter way down the runway the blue shield touched the surface, bounced the ship up a foot or so, and Pluto Katherine pushed her down again. This time she kept pushing her controls forward and the shield began to flatten below the craft.

  “Speed decreasing to 35 knots… 31 knots… 28 knots, altitude 10 feet. The legs are about to hit,” stated Lunar, helping her sister.

  “Close down the shield now, Lunar,” ordered Mars. She did so, and slowly the blue shield disappeared. A scraping sound could be heard as the shield slowly disappeared, and at 15 knots, Astermine One had sparks flying out from her short tripod legs.

  “Shut everything down, Pluto Katherine. Lunar, close down your power. You are starting to veer off the black top,” ordered Bob.

  “Roger, everything closing down, still moving,” stated Pluto Katherine calmly. The skidding spacecraft, with sparks still flying off its feet, slowly came to a halt nearly in front of the hangars with only a couple of feet before the front leg would dive into the grass and dirt at the side of the runway.

  Astermine One was down. They only had five to go.

  “A couple of good old rubber tires would have helped,” suggested Bob as they pushed five wheelchairs toward the craft that was never meant to return to Earth.

  Aboard was Joanne Dithers Roo, her husband, Dr. Walls, his son, the two Richmond pilots, two of Suzi’s younger group of biologists and eight Earth children, all pale and weak. In fives, the team sweated and transferred the crew to the shade and air conditioning of the veranda room by the pool. They were all stronger than Pete had been and within hours the children were moving around in the warm pool water as dinner was prepared by both Beth and Monica this time.

  Earlier, Mars had used full thrust on the mining craft’s thrusters and had managed to get her a few feet off the ground. The power from the thrusters would have destroyed the hangar, so they parked it outside the second hangar. Bob used an old tractor to drag it screeching on its tripod into the shade of the hangar.

  They managed to get John Soames on the radio that night, as Joanne desperately wanted to speak to him.

  “Mr. Soames, what happened to my father? Just the straight truth please,” she asked once introductions had been given.

  “Ok, Ms. Dithers. Your father, President Dithers, ran the United States until Congress finally forced him out of power at the completion of his third term as ‘President For Life.’ That was about three years ago. The U.S. had gone nowhere for his term as President. Two years ago, a new President, a President Roger Downs, contacted the Canadian government begging for troops. It seemed that parts of the South—Texas through to Florida and as far north as South Carolina—were wanting to break away from the north. Your father was in control of this breakaway. He had set up shop in Texas and wanted to return to rule. Canada sent in 10,000 soldiers and helped keep the southern troops from taking over Washington. Remember, Ma’am, there have been no new weapons made in the U.S.A. for decades now. The United States Air Force is virtually grounded, and the southern troops are even worse off when it comes to modern weapons. It is standard issue for all our Australian and Canadian troops to have laser hand weapons, and their orders were not to get involved, but to protect Washington. They had just rebuilt the Capitol Building, since our friend Ryan destroyed it on his last visit. That is where the country stands right now. The Canadian troops are still there, and it is quid pro quo on both sides, a sort of stalemate. I believe your father needs a strong word. So does the new President, and the country could unite and come together again. Your father, I believe, has his current headquarters in Atlanta, and we know that everything flyable on both sides has been readied for another attack. We have been waiting for this battle for a year now. Ms. Dithers, that is all I can tell you, except that Ryan’s old airfield in Nevada is still there and still in one piece. Our new satellite, actually the new Canadian satellite, took photos of it just last year. Other than that, the Americans are starving. Their population is down by a third since your father took power, and there are more Americans living in Canada and Mexico than ever before. It is the perfect time to go and wring a few necks, kick some arse, and get that great country back onto the railroad tracks again.”

  After that, other messages were relayed back and forth and the Prime Minister was thanked for his efforts.

  Two days later, with the Matt craft refueled,
Mars and Pluto Katherine Richmond headed back up to space with the black box. Lunar Richmond was needed to be commander of the new Earth base, and Pluto Katherine was the right person to get the next mining craft down on the same tripod-type legs.

  This time 20 crewmembers could fit into the larger space inside the mining craft, and Mars could fit a co-pilot and six into the Matt craft’s hold. With them, Penelope Pitt was going to bring in SB-II. The shuttle had landing gear, and without its supply pod, which was latched to the other two pods still in orbit, could return with or without its shield extended,. Mars and Penelope decided, with shields extended, and behind the Matt craft, she would also make a vertical landing with her co-pilot and 25 passengers.

  This time Pluto Katherine would come in last, as her craft would block the runway. Mars landed on the apron as he was still getting his act together, and Penelope came in for a perfect vertical landing.

  Pluto Katherine bettered her first attempt, stopping a foot away from the edge of the runway and exactly in the same place.

  The swimming pool was beginning to fill up with bodies, and Monica was the resident lifeguard of the small pool. It was only half the size of the old one in Nevada, and not all the crew could fit in at any one time.

  These two flights brought with them the remnant of the FirstGen mechanics who were not asleep. These mechanics, servicing and refueling crew, had worked in Nevada and at The Pig’s Snout, and were the main team that prepared the shuttles for launch. They were needed to help the youngsters, and once strong, went about getting ready to service and refuel SB-II, as everything they had ordered was waiting for them in the hangars. They were all about the same age as Captain Pete.

  Mars again returned with Pluto Katherine 72 hours later and brought the next two craft, Astermine Two and SB-I, with Pluto Jane Saunders and her younger sister Shelly flying the shuttle. Again, and now with new knowledge on how to do it, both flights were a success.

  Finally, two weeks after Mars set foot on Earth, SB-II, her engines serviced, refueled and ready, headed up under Penelope Pitt’s guidance, secretly surrounded by a blue shield, to take over protection duty. Saturn Jones, with the last 25 crewmembers and Dr. Nancy, reentered Earth’s atmosphere having several excited voices from below telling her how to fly her shuttle. Within 200,000 feet above Earth, Saturn Jones had told them all to shut up!

  Chapter 7

  Joanne Dithers Roo—First Visit to the U.S.A.

  Dr. Nancy, like Pete, needed more care than the others. She was frail, weak and couldn’t keep her head up. The others, used to the steel shoes and electromagnetic pull of the floor of the shuttle, were better off, and needed less assistance.

  Nancy, being helped by both Beth and Monica, was shocked how thin her man still looked, but he was again strong, tanned and extremely irresistible-looking.

  To Mars, Saturn was her usual straightforward self. She tried hard not to be wheeled into the newly formed medical unit. Dr. Walls had set up the “arrivals unit” 24 hours after his own arrival.

  Bob Mathews was a little disappointed that none of the arriving astronauts were as enthusiastic about fishing as the old crew had been, and once everybody coming down was down, he and his two ladies, who weren’t really needed anymore, headed out back to their fishing grounds for a few days.

  Mars Noble was the only one who really wanted to spend time on Bob’s luxurious 75-foot fishing boat. Unfortunately, he also wanted to be by Saturn’s side and stayed, much to her appreciation.

  Also, Mars was quite interested in the new gadgets that seemed to pop their heads up in different places without warning. He had left his father’s new robotic troops back guarding The Martian Club Retreat, and down here, there seemed to be new, tiny robotic things everywhere.

  A robotic pulley headed out to meet the incoming shuttles and somehow connected itself to the forward wheel struts of the landed craft and moved them into the hangars, with nobody controlling them. Then, food in the kitchen was ordered by pressing a button on a menu and minutes later the food on a warm plate exited a slot for pickup.

  Also, a twin-tracked robot, which reminded Mars of the old bomb disposal robots he had read about in his history books going back thirty years, brought out beers or glasses of wine on trays whenever somebody verbally ordered something.

  It was interesting when sitting by the pool with Saturn during her second day, she suggested that French fries and a cold beer would be great for lunch, and a few minutes later one of these tracked things, looking like R2D2 from Star Wars, came out with her order.

  Mars, usually full of jokes, verbally asked for a blonde, a whole roast chicken and a bottle of Dom Perignon 1959, a bottle James Bond used to drool over in the Bond movies. Twenty minutes later, a robot drew up to his sun lounger with a bottle of beer that had “blonde” imprinted on its label, a still-sizzling whole roast chicken, and a cold bottle of Australian champagne with two glasses.

  “Sorry, sir, we are out of Dom Perignon 1959, but I have texted an imail to headquarters to try to procure a bottle for you,” stated an automated-sounding, sexy female voice. The voice certainly didn’t match the ungainly-looking robot, but he and Saturn burst out laughing.

  “What is an imail?” Mars asked the robot.

  “I don’t see why I am so funny, sir, and an imail is short for instant mail.” With that, the robot deposited the tray next to the sun lounger and unhappily returned to its station.

  What brought back memories to both of them was a day later when they headed out to the main hangar, big enough to fit in all three shuttles when they were on the ground. The robot that had wheeled in the craft to the hangars, buzzed up to the couple and asked their names and what aircraft they wanted. Saturn thought for a second and smiled.

  “Jones. Can you tow out my aircraft? It is a yellow Gulfstream jet.”

  “Immediately, Mr. Jones. Please walk out another 50 feet to the middle of the apron.” The robot headed away with gusto. It disappeared and nothing happened for several minutes. Then the furthest hangar door, a hangar nobody had gone near yet, began to open, and out came the robot pulling the Jones family vehicle behind it.

  They watched with fascination as the robot turned and brought the shiny yellow jet right in front of where they stood.

  “I’ve checked the tanks. Fuel at 97 percent in both tanks, latest MPI (Major Periodic Inspection) completed October 2029, 25 months ago. Engines hours 191 on both engines. Aircraft ready for flight, sir. Please begin ground checks for takeoff.” With that, the robot disconnected itself from the front wheel strut and within seconds had buzzed back to its hole somewhere. Saturn looked at Mars.

  “Well? Shall we go for a ride?”

  “Can you still fly something so ancient as this?” asked Mars.

  “Don’t insult my father’s ride, Mars Noble. All three shuttles are older than her,” replied a menacing Jones with her hands on her hips.

  “Maybe you still can,” he joked. “Let’s go and buzz Bob Mathews in his ship. Maybe he’ll appreciate some company.”

  With that, they completed the ground checks, headed into the still new-looking and perfect interior of the aircraft, and with her two jets screaming and awakening the whole island, they headed up and away.

  “Jones family ride to Sierra Bravo II, do you copy? Over.”

  “See you on radar, Saturn,” replied young Hillary Pitt, the shuttle’s co-pilot and Penelope’s younger sister. “Penelope is asleep. I see you, a small dot heading east away from the island; 87 degrees, 470 knots at 6,000 feet. I’m heading over the horizon in 5 minutes. Thanks for checking in, over.”

  “Anybody else showing up on your radar, Hillary?”

  “A couple of marine ships, one smaller dot about 130 miles due east of you and a larger blip about 29 miles north of the first dot. There are no aircraft anywhere apart from you on my screen, over.”

  “Copy that, we are out for a joyride in my dad’s plane, heading for the small dot, and will then return to base over,” added Satu
rn.

  “Copy that, will pass it on to the next protection detail behind me. Have fun, hope that good-looking Noble is with you. Out.”

  Both flyers knew there wasn’t another shuttle behind her. They had all arrived into Earth’s atmosphere inside the blue shields, so nobody apart from Bob and his ladies knew who had arrived. Thanks to the shields, and without radar signatures, nobody outside the base knew who was on the ground and who was up in space. Ryan had wanted it that way, at least until everyone knew for sure that they were safe.

  Unfortunately, radio communications could be studied to find out where they had originated from, from orbit or from inside the atmosphere, so having one craft up there was enough to keep everybody guessing.

  The Gulfstream headed up to 10,000 feet and they chatted as they approached Bob’s dot on their radar screens in front of both pilots.

  “We need to speak to Martin Brusk soon,” stated Mars.

  “I think we should invite Martin and Mr. Soames at the same time, once Dr. Nancy is stronger,” replied Saturn.

  “Ryan said that he would be the only guy to trust to find out all the new technology to construct a new shuttle and then America Two.”

  “I was chatting with Captain Pete last night, and he told me about his ideas on a round, wagon-wheel-style America Two,” added Saturn, beginning to reduce their altitude. “He said that the outer wheel could be further out from center than the outer level on America One, and at the same revolution, the centrifugal force, our artificial gravity, can be exacted to the gravity here on Earth. This will save us being so weak when we or our next generation return to Earth one day in the future.”