Regan's Reach 2: Orbital Envy

by Mark G Brewer

  Rod needed no second invitation. "Where are we off to Ham?"

  "It'll be USD flight decks earthward end first for a briefing, then into the simulator again and finally some real flight training around the pipe. If all goes well we might look at a spin around the moon tomorrow, how does that sound?"

  Hayden Joyce watched the simulator performance keenly as Rod went through the drills. Familiarity with the cockpit and many hours practice were paying off big time and his skills were outstanding. Not surprisingly he was pretty sharp as the ADF was like a fighter to fly compared with his shuttle. Modeled on the USDynamics trainers he had spent many hundreds of hours flying, the ADF cockpit felt familiar to him. The USD designed shuttles were also very similar in layout and it was obvious Rod felt right at home. The main difference from those models was the also most dramatic. The level of AI assistance was beyond anything he had experienced as a pilot. The AI wasn't Ham, but it was smart. Voice control was disturbingly accurate and could handle even urgent maneuvering if called on. Nevertheless he had worked hard to make sure he could fly this thing solo. He knew some of the others had done the same. It just didn't feel right to let the computer do the job.

  Hayden knew the Major would have found almost everything easier in the ADF, the main difference being lightening quick speed and dramatic maneuverability. He could also anticipate the first question he would ask.

  Rod stepped from the simulator looking troubled.

  "Major, congratulations. That was pretty good for a rookie."

  Rod smiled knowingly. He had killed it he knew. Only two of the fifteen Sherpa pilots trialed so far had stepped up to his level, one an Aussie and the other Korean, a woman. She looked so tiny he found it hard to believe she was old enough but boy, could she fly. The Aussie John Carver, had an amiable way that meant he was destined for the training rooms, of that Rod felt sure. That meant he was likely to be working with the amazing Minjee Chow. Now that's a pleasant prospect, he thought.

  Over lunch in the mess he made a point of joining her, an opportunity to exercise his charm. It was forty five minutes of frustration. She was gorgeous, delightful, intelligent, humorous . . . and immune. He couldn't touch her, certainly not physically but more importantly he had the sense she held him at arm's length. She could smile and dismiss in the same look and by lunch end he was more confused about where he stood than at the beginning. What he did know is that he liked her. Twenty two years old with a master in science before joining the South Korean Air Force and fast tracking into Fighters; with her background there was an obvious mystery. How did she get here before him? I thought there were no military on Hillary?

  As they headed back to the flight deck Rod excused himself and headed for the bathroom. If they were to fly soon he wanted empty tanks. Taking the opportunity he headed for a cubicle, locked in and dropped his flight suit. It was only once seated that he noticed words on the door. Want to fly with her?

  "Fuck me," he looked around, and up. "Ham . . . is that you?"

  The words morphed. The Aussie or her, which is it to be?

  "Oh Minjee, I want her, yes, yes, yes!" he pumped his fist.

  The words faded from the door and he reached forward to rub at it, detecting nothing unusual about the surface. For a moment he felt rather exposed, then thought fuck it and finished his business.

  Opening the door he found the Australian waiting, arms crossed and smiling.

  "You are one sick yank. What the fuck were you doing in there?" He started pumping his fist as he mimicked what he had heard, "Oh Minjee, I want her yes, yes, yeeeessss!" He laughed as he entered the next cubicle.

  * * *

  Back up the pipe moonward Kevin sat in conference with Bob Jarvis on screen.

  "I'm sorry Kevin, I can't find out anything you don't already know. The American's know only that the missile originated from the China Sea, but your tracking was even more accurate it seems."

  "Do they have any idea who launched it?"

  "Nothing concrete but here's the American thinking. Why would the Chinese launch anything at Hillary Station? If they were already established on Hillary Step, which they're not, I guess it could make some weird sense. Perhaps it might be said they were making sure no one else passes them in their plans."

  Kevin nodded, "I see where you're going, and since they're not due on The Step until early next month, if it was them that took a shot at the pipe they might be risking our invitation to participate."

  "Exactly . . . The US is also adamant it wasn't the Japanese or themselves, and no other nation has the capability to launch from the seas . . . except Russia."

  "So what are they saying?"

  "Russia is focusing the spotlight on China, calling for sanctions against them, nothing major but at least for them to be censured. I can tell you it's not going to happen."

  "What's their game Bob?"

  "I don't think my thoughts would be any different to yours Kev, they haven't learnt to cooperate. Their intransigence has left them right out on a limb. You guys have changed the playing field and it pisses off Sokolov that Sweden can have a home in space while they're still patching up shuttles."

  Kevin chuckled quietly.

  "Kevin, the real question people are asking here is how you dealt with a nuclear missile."

  "Bob, I don't want to appear arrogant but there is nothing anyone down there can throw at us that we can't deal with. Someone should remind the big guys about that, it's pointless, and what would be achieved? They're always talking about the best interests of the world. Well they should practice what they preach. I don't get the Russians, they're isolating themselves. And what worries me is that it doesn't help us either. It's best if they come in and work with us. In my opinion the danger meter for everyone keeps going up the more isolated the Russians get."

  "Regan?"

  Kevin couldn't help pausing, but he recovered quickly. "Still recuperating, she'll be out and about soon enough." I hope!

  "That's great Kev, give her my regards."

  He disappeared from the screen.

  Kevin and Mary exchanged dire looks across the room. She sat at the table working quietly but had followed every word. Nothing needed to be said and he walked away to check on the twins, thoughts cycled round in his head. Not again Regan, where are you guys?

  * * *

  The Behemoth

  Having breeched just inside the furthest extent of the suns gravity field the whale continued along its perfect line, enormous energy that had only moments before generated warp speeds now thrown into slowing its progress. Though the line was perfect, still, it was a nervous passage through the Kuiper belt at around Nine hundred thousand kilometers per hour, attention already shifting to the third planet of the system. Like a small deadly city the vessel throbbed with life, both mechanical and physical. Four hundred lives were housed in this huge but still cramped warship, most restricted in movement and limited for distraction. Three months on ship, one in preparation and two more in transit, and how many more before they can walk without restriction? The crew and vessel had been outstanding throughout the long voyage. Performance and the ship systems appeared to have improved with each period.

  And now, no point in hiding, we're here and here to stay. The Coran Commander controlled his breathing; it wouldn't do to show too much excitement. He scanned the large briefing room as the assembled specialists continued to discuss and debate available data. This mineral rich system, offered so much. Too far from home for meaningful trade, that much was agreed, but what other possibilities would it reveal? A blue planet and a well developed society, not so advanced to be a threat, nor too backward that the temptations of new technology wouldn't be appreciated. Surely they would welcome these advanced visitors to the system. Hmm, visitors . . . immigrants . . . business partners . . . conquerors . . . which would it turn out to be?

  He slipped from the room leaving them to their excited discussions and returned to his comfortable private rooms. It was time to review his
data, and his personal instructions.

  Meanwhile, in the centre vessel control room technical specialists busied themselves, monitoring systems, scanning space and searching for communications. It wouldn't be long they knew.

  * * *

  "Stunning!" Rod gushed as he stepped from the ADF still coming down from his adrenalin high.

  "Thank you," Minjee bowed mischievously.

  "You know what I mean vixen." He grinned, not being able to fault her statement, she truly was stunning, in looks and action. In reaction time to his annoyance, he already knew she would be the better flyer, not that he would admit it. If she had a fault it was that he knew she was too smart to shoot quickly, too bright not to second guess, too reasonable not to assume the other guy would surely be reasonable. Well, if it comes to that, I'll pull the trigger . . . when I find one! To his profound disappointment there didn't appear to be any armament on the craft.

  Looking across the flight deck they could see Hayden Joyce arms crossed and expectant with a small entourage of similarly charged USD technicians. He gestured for them to come over.

  "Well, was it as good for you as it looked to us?"

  "You have success sir, without a doubt." Rod's enthusiasm was obvious. "It was a blast. Better by an order of magnitude to anything produced so far, certainly anything I've flown, other than the STEIN flyers. They're not quite as maneuverable as the little ADF's but damn near. I guess the flesh bags carried inside these are the problem. The US will want them for sure."

  "Minjee?" Hayden turned to the small Korean.

  "He can talk can't he?" She nodded teasingly at her co pilot. It was fantastic. I only have a concern over the degree of dependence on the systems. If we lost power and had to use manual override, well, I can imagine it would expose the pilots who've been leaning on all the computer assists you've built in.

  "That's not a problem I intend having sir." Rod had clearly enjoyed his stint at the controls. "It's such a buzz to fly this thing I can't see myself using the assists too much anyway."

  "Let's not get ahead of ourselves Major. This is space after all and I won't allow anything to put Hillary or any of its citizens at risk. Ham monitors everything, especially flight deck takeoffs and returns. Understood?"

  "Citizens sir . . . ?" Rod couldn't resist asking.

  "Just an expression Major . . . early days." Hayden didn't elaborate. "Now, I suggest you take advantage of the break, have something to eat while we go over the systems and data. I understand there's a trip round the moon planned for fourteen hundred hours. We'll see you back here at thirteen hundred."

  Rod jogged up after Minjee who had already made for the deck exit. His eyes were drawn as always to the shimmering field on the moonward side of the flight deck. The earthward inner ring USD decks had fields on either end allowing passage in and out from either side. It was the strangest feeling standing there in an earth normal atmosphere able to look straight out into space. It appeared you could just jump through. Could you?

  He caught Minjee at the lift entrance. The flight decks extended out into the inner side of the ring, circling the entire inner side of that are of the pipe. Eventually these decks would be matched by the same arrangement at the moonward end. A short ride up the thirty meter shaft would take them to the main pipe corridors and entrance into Hillary Station proper.

  "Did you notice that slip of the tongue?" he asked as they watched the doors close.

  "Slip of the tongue?"

  "That comment about Hillary 'citizens', it was unusual choice of word don't you think?"

  "How so,"she replied, "can't you feel citizenship coming? There are already four thousand here, soon to be fifteen thousand. This is at least a city in the making, get used to it I say."

  "Go on . . . you seem to have thought about this."

  She stopped and grabbed his arm, then pointed up to the Sherpa's ferrying back and forth. "Rod, this thing is growing so fast. I heard there will be fifteen thousand on Hillary before the end of the year, including families, and open your eyes man, you do have a unique view."

  "What are you talking about?" He looked up, out and across the pipe."

  "No Rod, the view you get from the outside. Haven't you noticed? We all call it 'The Pipe' but it looks a lot like an axle to me . . . an axle for a very, very big wheel."

  * * *

  The STEIN Traveler

  Room and body warmed slowly together in preparation for the procedure. From her ethereal vantage Regan watched with pretended detachment and growing dread. Leah, clad in ship suit for warmth, bustled about the room gathering the things she needed to play her support role. There would be blood soon and . . . Don't go there!

  [Ham, are you ever nervous?]

  [Do you really want to know?]

  [I guess not] her attention was again drawn to the body [Is there anything going on in there, in that brain?]

  [Truthfully I don't know, I can't talk to you in there] [Anyway you're sedated, and what is there is in an induced coma, you have been since we got you to the Medlab. Regan, I don't know what damage was done in the few hours before we got you there. I had you chilled within seconds of the shot, but I still can't guarantee anything. You need to know that]

  On a side gurney she could see the hardware. It looked like a parts workshop. No robotic arms but she knew they would appear soon. She watched Leah stretching, working out her nerves.

  Regan's monitoring showed the room and body would soon be ready, it wouldn't be long. Is the tingling I'm registering fear?

  [Thanks for bringing Leah]

  [You might not be aware of it but you chose her, and you were right]

  [Ham I don't want to watch this, I can't bear it, I'll watch over Jared]

  [Until I need you, which I will later on]

  [Sure, but before I go . . . I've been looking around . . . I'm going to want to talk to you about something later, just giving you a 'heads up']

  [Do I need to be worried?]

  [The terrorist thing]

  [You know about that?]

  [Seventy three files open . . . thirteen closed?]

  [It's just a hobby. It's my super power]

  [When this is over, we need to talk about it ok?]

  [. . . Time to go Regan]

  One last look down to the gurney, a glance at Leah arranging her culture tissue and the disturbing thought returned. What was it he said, about the secret of success . . . How did Ham prepare for this?

  She didn't go to Jared, she didn't know why. She simply set herself to sleep, and everything blanked.

  In the Medlab Leah watched in wonder as robotic arms appeared from the seamless floor and ceiling. Well prepped she stepped forward to swab, and guide, pick up and position. She felt calm, excited, charged, all at once with Ham's constant presence and chatter a comforting influence. Not for one moment did she allow herself to think of Regan the person. This was a task, too gruesome to dwell on. The parts appeared too hard, cold and impersonal. The fine connections were too minute and precise to follow, the overall visage too frightening to focus on. For exhausting hours of the process, more rebuild than operation she found another place in herself and felt as if she were an observer, protected somewhere from the reality. Ham too wasn't his normal flippant self. Drained of humor she could tell his chatter was more nerves than conversation. Still it helped her get through and as parts were assembled, bone shaped, light metal plate formed and positioned, blood vessels connected, skin and flesh stretched and sealed, his talking distracted and helped keep nausea at bay. It was all beyond her comprehension, the complexity of the task a mystery to her, but stage by stage she watched the gap filled, covered and restored.

  Finally, the arms retracted. Neither spoke for some time.

  "Well, what do you think? I think it looks quite like her. I even removed that mole."

  She hesitated diplomatically. "It's hard to say . . . that . . . eye, troubles me a bit." Leah was leaning sideways, trying to picture the face without the gaping ey
e socket and terminator lens. The skull seemed coated with a thin plastic film.

  "Is . . . that, thing really necessary?" She pointed at the obvious.

  "I thought a zoom lens might be useful, it will don't you think?"

  "Hmm . . . You know I'm not sure I would have bothered about the mole, with that staring at you no one would even notice it."

  "Oh it won't stay that way; I didn't have a lens to cover it. We'll get one from Earth when we get back. It'll be just like her old eye."

  "I'd make that addition sooner rather than later Ham, in the meantime she'll definitely need a patch."

  She found her legs beginning to tremble. "Ham, I need a break. Will she be ok do you think?"

  "I don't know Leah. For now we wait. Thank you, you did really well. I couldn't have done it without you."

  She could feel the room temperature was warming and noticed the body regaining some of its natural color. There really was nothing more for her to do. Tired and emotionally drained she headed for her room.

  In the Medlab Ham continued to wait, watch, and worry.

  Leah leant on the shower wall allowing the torrent to stream down her back, her thoughts swirling through the events of the last few days. So disorienting had been the jumble of traumatic experiences she found it hard to even put things in order. Since the arrival on Hillary it had been non-stop. Only a few days and she felt a completely different person, older. Is it always like this? Can I handle it . . . Do I want to be a part of it?