by Peter Damon
“Here, you can even see London!”
Mickey kept his attention forward, towards the empty space above and beyond them. Clouds fell below and he depressed the accelerator that little bit further to quicken their climb as the passengers fell silent to just stare outside, mouths hanging open as the earth began to curve. The sky became an ever deepening blue, until darkness came over them and the earth and the atmosphere fell beneath them.
“Sweet Lord; I never ever thought it would be so beautiful,” Maddy murmured from immediately behind him.
He let them look ‘down’ while the bus continued moving outward, telemetry on the large windscreen allowing him to correct his course slightly, and informing him that he was still a half hour from the ship.
Mickey started to breathe once more, wondering how long he’d gone without a breath.
+++++++++
Stan took the phone call and listened as Sir Arthur Coleman explained that it was over. “Let them all go, Stanley,” Sir Arthur finished by saying. “Let them go, and come back to London. There will be other battles,” he sighed.
Stan put the phone away and also sighed. “Alright, Sir Richard; you can go now,” he told the Vice Chancellor.
“Why? What’s happened?” asked the shrewd man, his eyes questioning.
“All I know are my orders, Sir. You’re free to go,” he said, and rose to press the attention button beside the door.
Heather Wilson was in the next interview room, her eyes smarting with a mixture of anger and indignation. She wiped them as she prepared for another bout of questioning, but Stan shook his head and smiled sadly towards her. “You’re free to go,” he told her.
“What; no charges?” she asked with disbelief.
“No charges,” he agreed.
She rose to go and stopped beside him for a moment. “Just one thing,” she asked. “Who told you I had that black box?”
Stan considered and shook his head. “No one,” he told her. “The type of listening device placed in Sir Richard’s office doesn’t fail. So, if it stopped working for any reason, it was because someone was jamming it. The only question was; was it Sir Richard, or was it you?” he explained.
“So is Michael free to go as well?” she asked.
“Yes,” he agreed.
Heather did the telling. She strode into the interview room to find him leaning back with his arms folded behind his head, in every way a man relaxed and awaiting freedom. Despite the last shred of anger she still felt for him, Heather laughed. “You’re free to go,” she told him.
“Am I? I wonder why,” he murmured. “Are you going to tell me?” he asked of Stan, watching them from beyond the door. But Stan shook his head and walked on, out of sight.
Michael rose and brushed past Heather. “I need my phone,” he called back, rushing towards the Duty Sergeant and his bag of belongings.
Heather followed, her step faltering as she noted the Chief Constable deep in conversation with a man who looked uncannily like the Prime Minister. Michael had found his phone and was browsing through his text messages, smiling as he read the one he appeared to want. “What does the grin mean?” she asked.
“They’re up there,” he told her.
“You mean; in space?” she asked.
“It worked,” Michael called and Sir Richard chuckled from nearby, his eyes twinkling.
“Your attention please!” called the Duty Sergeant, and waited for silence before continuing. “The Prime Minister is organising a press conference outside the Vice Chancellor’s offices in one hour. He requests you all attend and be prepared to answer questions,” he told them. “We will have transport out front in just a few minutes.”
“Well, they won’t want me there,” Heather felt sure in saying.
“No, but I will,” Michael told her.
She looked towards him, wanting to believe in one interpretation, but knowing there were too many for it to be clear.
“Not just at the press conference, Heather. I’d like you by my side in space too,” he murmured, stepping closer to her.
“Space?” she mumbled, her body beginning to quiver, her legs threatening to give way. She couldn’t breathe deeply enough.
He took her hand and held it between his own, their pressure stilling the shaking she felt. “Will you come with me?” he begged, his eyes searching hers.
“I don’t know anything about space,” she complained. “What would I do?”
Michael shrugged. “For me, it would be enough for you to be there, but if you want something more, then come and run our police force. We’re going to need one, and we never thought to get one,” he admitted.
Heather laughed and used her free hand to wipe at her moist eyes.
“Well?” he asked her.
“Yes, yes, ok,” she agreed.
Michael grinned, his first big grin for many years, and led her towards the rear of the building where his Range Rover stood.
“To hell with the press conference,” he told her.
+++++++++
Paddy had rarely had such fun as driving the bus into the clouds. His passengers had roared their approval as he’d risen smoothly from the road and begun ascending into the sky. Like little kids, they had pressed their faces to the large windows as Cambridge had fallen away behind them before clouds at 10,000 feet began to obscure their view.
Silence had fallen as, gaining speed, Paddy had taken the coach further and further from earth until they finally reached space, moving smoothly and silently from light into darkness while the panorama of the earth lay to one side of them, huge and magnificent.
In the silence, Paddy heard the reverend begin the Lord’s Prayer, and slowly the others took it up until the whole bus rang with the closing lines; “but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for even and ever, Amen.”
The doctor was wiping his eyes and the three professors were talking rapidly to their students, pointing out various things while Paddy turned on the telemetry and confidently turned the coach to head in the direction of the ship.
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Still in the car park of the Cambridge police station, Michael pressed the transfer button on the console above his head, followed by the air locking button beside it. He felt the rise of the air pressure for a moment, before it eased and the first green light appeared.
Licking his lips, he pressed the next button and the gravity field came on, the green light confirming it. He had felt nothing and Heather was watching him, smiling slightly, trustingly.
“Ok, here we go,” he warned her, and drew the steering column back before pressing his foot to the accelerator.
The black Range Rover leapt into the air and continued to accelerate, Michael whooping while Heather gripped the arms of the seat to stare apprehensively at the ground falling away behind them, her wide eyes making Michael grin as he pushed the pedal all the way to the floor.
The clouds closed below them, obscuring the landscape, and then the earth rapidly took on a curve while their forward motion seemed to cease.
“We seem still,” Heather murmured in awe.
“We’re doing about 1,000 kilometres an hour,” Michael murmured.
“I don’t feel any movement,” she explained.
Michael nodded. Perhaps the twins should change the calibration so that just a little movement was felt. “We’ve over 100 kilometres from the ground, so we’re now formally astronauts,” he told her with a grin. He accelerated, the atmosphere no longer a barrier to faster-than-sound speeds.
“Are we really going to a ship, a container ship?” she asked, still marvelling at everything around her.
He nodded and put on his telemetry. At his increasing speed they would be there in about 20 minutes. The green lines came on and he turned the vehicle slightly, smiling at how easily he had adjusted their flight.
+++++++++
Silence fell within the coach as the ship appeared on the left-hand side. Should he be thinking of it
as port and starboard instead, Paddy wondered.
The ship was huge. No one had thought to warn him of just how large the ship was; a whole bloody container ship sitting in space, the side of it painted in huge white letters, as if it needed a sign to distinguish it from the dozens of other ships (that were not) in space.
He silently thanked the telemetry on his windscreen that allowed him to approach the ship from the side. It would have been far harder for him had it been over his head, or beneath his feet. He’d done it in the game, but it just hadn’t felt right. This three dimensional lark was going to take some time to get used to.
“You’re all green,” Garry murmured in his ear from the ship.
“It’s so large!” someone muttered in awe from behind him. Not that Paddy wanted that reminder. All his practice had been done on the game Allan had given him, but this was for real. Botch this up, and he’d only know it for a few seconds.
The telemetry was good, turning colour whenever he edged out of the box delineating the route he must follow to slide neatly into the massive container ship.
Think of it as a game, Paddy said to himself, but it was hard to concentrate when, beyond the huge ship, the earth filled most of the window; a brilliantly coloured sphere with Spain squarely in front of him moving slowly westward as he and the ship continued to move slowly eastward. It dragged at his attention and he felt sure he could sit there all day, just looking at it.
The doors at the back of the CU:ARC opened with infinite grace, and the inside was brilliantly lit, two rows of yellow lights acting as guides to where he should ‘land’. A green target was on the windscreen and Paddy lightly touched the accelerator while his other foot hovered above the brake.
Before he fully realised it, the coach edged into the cavernous hanger space and his wheels kissed the floor. With a rush of breath Paddy allowed the coach to run on, through the large hanger and into one of the smaller bays where he halted all motion and turned off the gravity field to feel the subtle change in his gut as they now used the ship’s gravity. Before he had time to analyse it his passengers had erupted with cheers and clapping, applauding him while all he could do was blush and fumble with the lighting.
“We’ll just wait for the air to cycle up, and then we’ll disembark,” he said, blushing again as his passengers laughed.
+++++++++
Allan watched with keen interest as the computer program automatically adjusted the instructions to the motion of the vehicles approaching them.
He had spent hours simulating as many scenarios as he could come up with to ensure the program coped with them all, but this was the first real test, and any error now and lives could be lost.
Mickey was approaching in the second 40-seater bus, as was Frankie and his men in four box vans. Michael Bennett was moving quickly in their direction too.
As a vehicle came within 50 kilometres of them, the image of the ship on the table-top display automatically changed size to allow the new vehicle to be shown on the screen. Like one of the pre-computer technical drawings of a spare part, the screen showed him a view of the space around them in both a horizontal plane, and the vertical. Options for various display types were ranged down one side while the standard touch-screen controls operated here too, so individual areas could be brought forward or back, zoomed in and out, details about each craft’s movements opening if he held his finger pressed to the object for too long.
As vehicles moved, the icons representing them on the touch-screen reported their distance from the ship and their distance off the ship’s horizon, while a dotted line provided an indication of their route for the next 2 minutes, assuming no changes were made. Allan knew that converging lines would appear red, intensifying as the distance closed.
“Ahoy the ship,” Mickey’s voice came into his ear.
“Hello Mickey. You’re doing fine mate. Just keep it in the green, just as if you were playing the game,” Thomas responded with a calming note.
“We’re right behind,” Frankie called in.
“Hello Frankie. We have you on our board. Keep track of changes to your speed, but you’re green on our board,” Thomas told him.
The control room was near silent as everyone on board watched the control panel and the images on the far wall where the CCTV from within the hanger showed the smooth entry of the coach.
“Drive the coach into Bay 2, and we’ll cycle some air in there for you,” Gary told Mickey while Thomas and Allan watched the four box vans slowly line up for entry.
+++++++++
Michael brought the Range Rover to a stop, which was to say that, because they were close enough to the ship to be referenced to it, that they came to a stop in relationship with the ship, 2 kilometres off its port side, the white lettering and the stack of containers clearly visible.
“It’s incredible!” Heather breathed.
“Isn’t it,” Michael agreed softly.
The container ship floated above the earth’s dark side, moving serenely from west to east at what appeared to be a slow and sedate pace, but was in fact several thousand kilometres per hour.
“CU:ARC to Michael. You alright out there?” Thomas asked through the speaker.
“We’re admiring the view of the ship,” Michael admitted, returning his attention to the telemetry to begin following the path it had mapped out for him.
“Well, we’re all here, and we’re waiting for you to join us before we break open the champagne,” Thomas told him.
“Shall I pop down to our neighbours in their little International Space Station and invite them over for the housewarming?” Michael asked, and grinned towards Heather, almost certain earth authorities were listening to the interchange.
No one answered, which came as no surprise. Michael turned the Range Rover to come up behind the ship and let Heather admire the view while he concentrated on the guiding telemetry and the yellow lights within the large hold.
+++++++++
The Prime Minister stood smiling at the podium while Sir Richard stood to one side and slightly behind him. Brian had wanted Michael Bennett on the other side, but wasn’t really surprised that he’d disappeared again. It was probably for the best anyway. Their allies might just recognise him and that would raise some awkward questions.
“Good morning,” he told the gathered media. Not as many as he would have liked, but enough to syndicate the story to the world’s media outlets.
“Earlier today, following extensive trials in the UK and Europe, a team of British scientists based in Cambridge University were successful in raising a complete ocean-going container ship into an orbit about the earth.
The ship, weighing close to 180,000 tonnes, was raised while it sailed at sea and is now in an orbit some 500 kilometres above us.
“This monumental achievement returns Britain to the forefront of the space industry, something that has always been close to my heart and those of my party. More importantly, it opens avenues for life-changing research that would not have been possible, had it not been for the ingenuity and brilliance of our students.
“Special thanks go of course to the management team at the university who managed to keep the early development of this new and exciting facility out of the media until the testing was completed. In particular, however, I wish to recognise the sacrifice made by Professor Rolle and his wife who both died while actively engaged on this project.”
Questions began to be shouted out and the Prime Minister held up his hand. “This achievement is really that of Cambridge University, so let me introduce the Vice Chancellor of the Cambridge University, Sir Richard Phillips, who can give you some further details.”
“Thank you Prime Minister,” Sir Richard nodded before turning his attention to the cameras and microphones. “Yes, the ocean-going ship, once an E Class container vessel, was converted for space in a South Korean port and with the assistance of the South Korean Universities. It was launched immediately after the successful lift of six communication satell
ites from a German site, just outside Essen. My staff will provide you a handout giving details of the ship’s tonnage and size.
“The ship will now become the foremost centre of excellence for space research and, indeed, has been renamed ‘Cambridge University Annex, The Rolle College’ in support of this aim. Entries for places on board the ship will be administered, as with entries for any of the University’s Colleges, from this office, and will be awarded based solely on ability. Thank you.”
+++++++++
The control room was packed.
When Michael appeared, Heather at his side, the room erupted into cheering; cheering as only university students can cheer. Heather covered her ears while Michael stumbled back, hands lifted to hold them off. The sound fell off to laughter and Michael moved forward to start shaking hands.
David and Thomas were first, and he pumped their hands and embraced them as he remembered Rolle. Then the others; Allan, Jake, Leanne and Matt, then Cheryl and Gary, Frank and Juliet. He grinned at Paul Wright, the doctor and his moist eyes, and the Reverend Martin Giles and his returning and supportive smile.
Somewhere along the line a glass was put into his hand and he stepped back to raise it towards the sea of faces in front of him, his vision blurred by happy tears.
“This calls for three toasts,” he told them, his glass raised, his voice lowered. “The first is to you, because without your ingenuity, and your dedication and perseverance, we would not have won through.
“The second is to the future. Whatever happens, we can look back at what we’ve achieved and say: ‘Nothing can stop us’.
“And the third is to absent friends, whose sacrifice will never be forgotten.”
Without a further word they drank the toast. Then the party started in earnest.
BOOK 2: GROWING PAINS
June 13th.
A new dawn!
For the ship that had been raised from the sea to begin a new life in orbit, 500 kilometres above the earth.
For the people of the earth, who were just beginning to come to terms with a technology that allowed items of any size and weight to be raised into space with such ease that a group of Cambridge University students had managed to raise a whole container ship into orbit.
