Chapter 37: 1…2…3…4
“Second stage separation complete,” the pilot said as the second stage of Expedition 6 flew away. Her fingers relaxed on the controls only for a moment.
The commander counted out loud, “8 meters, 16 meters, 24 meters. Second stage clear.”
Her grip on the flight sticks tightened. “Burn engaging in 4, 3, 2, 1, mark.” The new burn sent the crew sinking deeper into their seats with the acceleration. “Burning initiated. 16 seconds remaining.” The tactile feedback from the sticks wasn’t necessary, but it the only way she could ‘feel’ Expedition 6 move in the ‘winds’ of endless nothingness.
“How is everyone feeling, Expedition crew?” A voice came over the comms in all the crew’s ears after a few seconds.
“All good up here, Mission Control,” the commander spoke for everyone. “Are we looking good on your end?”
“Most beautiful escape vector we’ve ever seen, Commander.”
“You hear that, P̸̜̐͜į̶̝̦̱͂̑̋ĺ̶̘̙o̷̘̹͘t̷̛̻͈̦̆̈͗, most beautiful escape vector in history,” the engineer said.
The specialist chuckled before saying, “What else could we expect from the best pilot ä̴͕̺̯́͂̍̓ǧ̶̨͈̅͊e̷̜̞̽͋ͅn̴͇͎͐c̵̲̦̓y̸̪̓̒̋ has ever made?”
“Burn ending in 4, 3, 2, 1, mark.” Almost instantly weightlessness took over the cockpit now that there was no longer any form of acceleration. “We are clear of the atmosphere, Commander.” The gentle ruffling sound of feathers filled the room as everyone for the first time stretched their wings as much as they could in these cramped conditions.
“Alright, crew, perform final checks,” the commander said, taking off his flight mask with nearly everyone else. “Take your time; no need to rush at this stage. P̸̖̦̪̅̌͜ͅr̶͈̳͚̈́̄̂̕ọ̶̧͎̉̿͗̚b̷̛͉̞̲ḛ̶̡̛̫ won’t be going anywhere.”
“Technically, it’s traveling at 17 kilometers a second away from us,” the pilot stated, her 16 fingers relaxing off the controls, letting the ship cruise along its path.
“And we will be catching up to it at 0.473 times the speed of light. Its speed won’t make too much of a difference to our travel time.”
Silence filled the sterile air of the cockpit as everyone’s four hands flew over instruments, each doing something in order to check their status.
The specialist was the first to speak after five silent minutes. “All good here, Commander.”
“Of course you’re all prepared; you don’t start your work till after we get there,” the engineer said.
“S̵̞̭̀͌p̴͕̀e̶̪̬͊̈́c̸̫̩̈́͘i̷̮͊a̸͎̾l̷̥͓̏́i̴̢̝̐s̴̗̆t̷̟͆̽’s work is just as important as ours, E̷͈͒̑n̴̘̘̾͠g̵͖͕̩̞̓̈i̶͓̥̻͙͗̎͝n̴̟͍͕̫̎e̴̤͙̽̎ḛ̴̎̀r̴̡̤̻̔. Are you sure you’re all green?”
“Positive, Commander. Launch had no effect on any of the stored instruments.”
The engineer turned to the pilot. “You know you can take off your flight mask now, P̸̜̐͜į̶̝̦̱͂̑̋ĺ̶̘̙o̷̘̹͘t̷̛̻͈̦̆̈͗.”
“We’re still in space and ensuring oxygen is important to the mission.”
“Oh, live a little. There’s no camera around to plaster your face all over the world.”
The pilot turned around to look at the engineer. “There are cameras all around us in the cockpit, broadcasting our image all over the world.”
“Yeah, but you can’t see all the people all the way up here. Come on, see the stars through your eyes and not your mask.”
“Stop ruffling her feathers,” the commander said, flapping his blue crown once to signify his desire for her to stop.
“P̸̜̐͜į̶̝̦̱͂̑̋ĺ̶̘̙o̷̘̹͘t̷̛̻͈̦̆̈͗ never takes off her mask for a mission.” The specialist chuckled. “Even before the mission starts. I can’t believe you tried to pose for the crew photos with the flight mask on.”
“PR got so upset over that,” the engineer laughed.
“Enough, you two.”
The engineer rolled her eyes. “I’m just tea—there she is! Look at that smile.”
“I’m not smiling,” the pilot said, turning back to focus on the instruments before her. The corners of her mouth were twitching upwards, and her crown relaxed slightly. She didn’t always like being teased, but she knew this wasn’t mean-spirited. Before she started back on her checks, she did, however, look up at the stars through the cockpit window. They were beautiful, and one day her people would travel to them.
She had thirteen more days to stare at the stars before inevitably going back home to face the swarms of reporters, trying to plaster her face all over the world as the first people to leave the solar system. Which was true as they would enter the interstellar medium, but they wouldn’t be anywhere near the N̵̫̲̻̓͒ḁ̵̐͠m̷̭̂̕̕͝e̴̡̻̙̘͊̋̌ Cloud at the edge of the solar neighborhood. They would stop at around two light-days away from home. Far enough that their entire mission out there would be done before the message saying they had arrived would even reach home.
“I’m all good, Commander,” the engineer said.
“I’m showing green across all systems,” the pilot added. “Ready whenever you are.”
“Mission Control, we are showing all green up here, everything looking green on your end?”
“We’re getting a slight variance in the drive’s power output. Over.”
The silence in the air was heavy before the engineer and the pilot went back to methodically checking every system. “I’m not seeing variation on my instruments.” The pilot’s voice was flat.
“Me neither. All systems are ready for go on my end.”
The commander looked concerned for a moment before speaking. “Control, we aren’t seeing any of those variations on our readout. Can you please confirm what you are reading? Over.”
“Are we scrubbed?” The specialist asked.
“Don’t worry yet,” the engineer started, “could be an issue on their end, not ours. Commander, permission to run drive diagnostics? It will put us out for another half hour, but it’ll give us a better analysis of systems.”
“Will that alter flight maneuvers, P̸̜̐͜į̶̝̦̱͂̑̋ĺ̶̘̙o̷̘̹͘t̷̛̻͈̦̆̈͗?”
“We’ll complete one unplanned orbit of home, but shouldn’t alter anything else,” the pilot answered.
“Then permission granted, E̷͈͒̑n̴̘̘̾͠g̵͖͕̩̞̓̈i̶͓̥̻͙͗̎͝n̴̟͍͕̫̎e̴̤͙̽̎ḛ̴̎̀r̴̡̤̻̔.”
“Expedition 6, this is L̸̬̩̟̹̝͌͑e̸̬̊̏̏̿͐a̸̻͂̈̍̽ď̶̲̿̎̏͝, no cause for alarm. Sorry, the boys were talking about variation, but didn’t explicitly state it was outside tolerances. Sorry for the hiccup. All systems are in the green here.”
“Do they just like scaring us over nothing?” The engineer asked, ensuring she wasn’t heard over the comm.
“Be advised, Mission Control, we are running drive system diagnostics, will set us back half an hour.”
“No need, Commander. We are all set. Over.”
The commander’s feathers ruffled before he switched off the comms with Mission Control. “When the fuck do they say no to system diagnostics?”
Silence once again filled the cockpit before the specialist spoke. “When there isn’t enough money allocated for the next set of missions, and the only hope is a large public stunt of sending people outside the solar system to drive media attention.” His voice was soft, but left a sour taste in everyone’s mouths. He wasn’t wrong. “The next episode of T̶͎̫͝e̵̖̍͘ͅḻ̷̾͝ē̴̱̼v̷̛͉͐i̶͖͊s̸̀̍͜ǐ̵̙̃ö̵̯͚͝n̷̞̜̋̃ ̷̢͊̆s̷̛̹̣h̶͔͐o̵͇̱͝w̵̝̄ͅ airs in twenty minutes. If we push it back half an hour, most of the audience is going to tune off.”
“I swear, if I get back and people spoil it for me before I can see it, I’m going to be so angry,” the engineer whispered, in some part trying to make the serious matter lighter.
The pilot’s fingers gripped tighter around the control sticks as her feathers pulled in tighter. “I don’t like this.” More silence.
“What tolerances are you trained for, P̸̜̐͜į̶̝̦̱͂̑̋ĺ̶̘̙o̷̘̹͘t̷̛̻͈̦̆̈͗?” the commander asked, even though he already knew the answer.
“Six times the scrub tolerance. It flies like a cargo plane with an unbalanced load, but I’ve flown in worse conditions.”
“Commander, I can see the variation they were talking about,” the engineer called out. “They’re still showing up green and within reasonable limits, but it’s right on the edge. Why the fuck do they only color things green or red. It’s fucking ỳ̴̧͉͙̂̃̌ḛ̶̑̿̂̉ą̵̢͖̪̏̑̽͘r̷̢̭̙̲͔͒, they can use a damn gradient to show where on the scale we are.” She sighed. “My best guess is increased solar radiation with the current flare is affecting some of the instruments.”
“That flare isn’t even facing us,” the specialist said firmly. “We should barely be feeling it. Unless there’s some other unknown cosmic anomaly we haven’t measured, we should be fully fine.”
“Then I don’t know what’s causing it without running diagnostics.”
“Fuck the ratings, I’m not putting our lives on the line for damn government funding.” The commander turned back on comms.
“—tion 6, come i—”
“We are running diagnostics, Mission Control. Over.”
“No need, Comma—”
“We are running diagnostics. Over. E̷͈͒̑n̴̘̘̾͠g̵͖͕̩̞̓̈i̶͓̥̻͙͗̎͝n̴̟͍͕̫̎e̴̤͙̽̎ḛ̴̎̀r̴̡̤̻̔, run it now. I’d rather waste half an hour than our lives.”
The next half hour was spent in mostly silence, with only a few sentences shared between the crew. The most sound came from the ruffling of wings nervously fidgeting. The pilot sat, staring at two of her hands fiddling with one another. The other two held onto the sticks, feeling as if it gave her some control over the situation.
“Diagnostics done,” the engineer said with a sigh. “Fuck me, everything is fine. The variation is coming from excess external radiation, but it’s not anything out of the scope of a regular solar flare. In fact, it’s barely that. Just enough to get a small reaction out of the measurement instruments, not the actual mechanics of the drive.”
“I did some checks too,” the specialist said. “All readings show it is radiation from the flare, as much as I don’t like it.”
“Why don’t you like it?” the commander asked.
“It means that preliminary reports of the flare and its magnitude weren’t correct. When we get back to the surface, I’m going to have some strong words for some very important people, because we need to know this stuff before we even get off the ground.”
“Are you comfortable continuing the mission?”
“Yes, Commander,” the specialist said. “Radiation spikes like this aren’t something out of planned variation.”
“E̷͈͒̑n̴̘̘̾͠g̵͖͕̩̞̓̈i̶͓̥̻͙͗̎͝n̴̟͍͕̫̎e̴̤͙̽̎ḛ̴̎̀r̴̡̤̻̔?”
“All green, Commander. Already taken steps to compensate for the readings.”
“P̸̜̐͜į̶̝̦̱͂̑̋ĺ̶̘̙o̷̘̹͘t̷̛̻͈̦̆̈͗?”
She hesitated, unlike the rest of the crew. Something didn’t feel right about this, but she didn’t know what. Even with the readings they were given she was well trained to handle things far worse than acceptable tolerances. She had flown in the roughest conditions known to Vysven and come out the other side. By God, she had even flown through conditions of an actual solar flare pointing their way at her. She had more experience in outer-space than any of the other crew combined.
“P̸̜̐͜į̶̝̦̱͂̑̋ĺ̶̘̙o̷̘̹͘t̷̛̻͈̦̆̈͗?”
“All green, Commander, and ready to fly,” she said before she could even think of how she truly wanted to reply. The urge to please the people she called friends and achieve their goals of being the first people to leave the solar system was too great to let her unfounded worries take control. She was trained for far worse scenarios, she assured herself.
“Are you sure?”
Again, she hesitated. Her throat felt tight, but she couldn’t explain what felt wrong about this mission. There wasn’t anything wrong with the mission. Everything was within acceptable limits, and she was so well-trained to handle the worst of the worst. Even if they flew 960 million kilometers off course, she could get them home without so much as looking at a map. She knew the sky and the stars. She knew where home always was. She had always known where home was, and she had never lost it. Not trusting her voice, she flapped her crown twice while putting her flight mask back on.
“Hell yeah, let’s blow this popsicle stand,” the engineer said with a smile before affixing her own mask back on.
“Alright, crew, masks on, prepare for drive initiation.” He put his own mask back on. “Mission Control, this is Expedition 6, we are go for initiation. I repeat, we are a go. Over.”
“Glad to hear it, Expedition 6. We are all set. Beginning countdown on your mark.”
The commander took a deep breath and held it for a few moments. His wings stretched out before tucking back in. His crown flapped twice.
“T minus 64,” the pilot said, starting go procedures. Mission Control started an audible countdown in the background while everyone ensured they were fully strapped in and secure. Eventually, the pilot said, “32.”
“Drive initiation started,” the engineer said.
“All readings nominal, Commander.”
“P̸̖̦̪̅̌͜ͅr̶͈̳͚̈́̄̂̕ọ̶̧͎̉̿͗̚b̷̛͉̞̲ḛ̶̡̛̫, here we come.” The commander whispered to himself.
A swooshing thrum radiated through the cockpit as the drive started it and soon the sound of nervous feather ruffling was drowned out.
“19.”
“Ready to leave our star behind?” The commander asked.
“More ready than I’ve ever been,” the engineer said with a clear smile in her voice.
“Ready and excited to enter the interstellar medium, Commander.” The specialist’s voice sounded so giddy with excitement.
“8.”
“Ready to boldly go where no one has gone before,” the pilot said.
“3, 2, 1. Engage.”
The acceleration was so much greater than anything the crew had ever experienced. Greater than any Vysven had ever experienced. Greater than it should have been. The crew groaned as even the inertia-dampening technology shuddered at the force of acceleration. The hull whined as streaks of golden flame flickered across the cockpit window.
“I thought you said we were out of atmosphere,” the specialist groaned through clenched teeth.
“We are,” the pilot groaned as the control sticks fought against her.
“Then what the hell is catching fire?”
“Commander, 0.29 light-speed achieved,” the engineer said with clear worry in her voice.
“What’s wrong, E̷͈͒̑n̴̘̘̾͠g̵͖͕̩̞̓̈i̶͓̥̻͙͗̎͝n̴̟͍͕̫̎e̴̤͙̽̎ḛ̴̎̀r̴̡̤̻̔?”
“We’re 16 seconds ahead of the scheduled speed.” The fire in the window started growing larger. “We’re accelerating too fast.”
“P̸̜̐͜į̶̝̦̱͂̑̋ĺ̶̘̙o̷̘̹͘t̷̛̻̆̈͗?” the commander asked.
“She’s fighting me.” Now she grabbed each stick with two hands as the controls tried to send the craft spinning. “Something is wrong.”
“Radiation spikes are too high!” the specialist yelled. “The readings aren’t aligning with one another.”
“What the fuck do you mean?!” The commander screamed.
“I don’t—fuck.” The specialist took a deep breath, clearly struggling to breathe with the intense g-force they were experiencing. “They don’t make any sense! Unless we’ve just discovered proof of tachyons, I don’t know wh—”
“Commander, we have reached our maximum speed. Fuck! The number is still climbing!”
Using two flight sticks was quickly becoming too much. With immense effort the pilot let go with one hand to mess with the control panel. Three taps in and all control had been shifted to one stick. With a grunt, she gripped the stick with all four hands, doing her best to keep them steady. “Switching to single-stick flight. I can barely keep her straight, Commander!”
“Shit, shit, shit,” the specialist started repeating over and over again as the fires along the hull grew.
“Abort! I repeat, abort!” he screamed as alarms started blaring through the cockpit.
The pilot could feel her bones creaking with strain as she let go with one hand. With the g-force so high, it took what felt like hours to reach the abort switch, and she had never felt so happy as when she flipped it. Reality crushed that happiness as nothing changed. “Failure to abort!”
“E̷͈͒̑n̴̘̘̾͠g̵͖͕̩̞̓̈i̶͓̥̻͙͗̎͝n̴̟͍͕̫̎e̴̤͙̽̎ḛ̴̎̀r̴̡̤̻̔, shut that drive down now!”
“I’m trying! I-I can’t! It’s stuck in some sort of feedback loop, I can’t—Fuck!”
A golden sphere of flame appeared in front of the vessel only a fraction of a second before Expedition 6 crashed right through it. The light from inside the fireball was almost blinding as the control stick yanked itself out of the pilot’s hands. The ship was sent into a violent toppling spin, as the new g-forces had nearly all the crew flying out of their seats. The specialist screamed as the pilot tried to grab onto the stick again. The hull whined and screeched as metal tore apart.
“We’re at—shit—light speed!” the engineer yelled. “Two times light speed!”
“We’re going to die. We’re going to die!”
“Shut the hell up, S̵̞̭̀͌p̴͕̀e̶̪̬͊̈́c̸̫̩̈́͘i̷̮͊a̸͎̾l̷̥͓̏́i̴̢̝̐s̴̗̆t̷̟͆̽!” the commander yelled. “P̸̜̐͜į̶̝̦̱͂̑̋ĺ̶̘̙o̷̘̹͘t̷̛̻̆̈͗ get us back under co—”
“16 times light speed!”
Sparks flew from the instruments. As the pilot forced her aching arms and hands to fight against the increased g-force and grab the flight stick once more. A screech from inside the cockpit filled the air before the specialist seat flew from its now sheared-off bolts. He crashed into a control panel with a sickening crack, his wings bent at angles they shouldn’t be.
“I can’t breathe!” the specialist screamed in panic.
The pilot screamed out as she felt one of her arms break with the force she needed to pull the flight stick back under her control. There was a reprieve for one glorious moment before, “208 times light speed!” was screamed out in the cockpit. The stick suddenly went limp as the ship was sent back into a death spiral.
“Dead stick!” The pilot screamed above the sounds of the ship tearing itself apart.
“Please, help,” the specialist wheezed out, now once again forced back into a rib-crushing position.
The pilot went to flip back the controls from one stick to the other, but she couldn’t lift her arms anymore. Her vision was starting to tunnel. The blackness and cold were seeping in as the fire outside the ship only grew.
“1024 times the speed of light!”
“P̸̜̐͜į̶̝̦̱͂̑̋ĺ̶̘̙o̷̘̹͘t̷̛̻̆̈͗!”
“I…I can’t, Commander! G-force too strong.”
“20,000 times light speed! We’re so fuc—468,000 light spe—” The panel the engineer was reading off exploded as golden flame breached the cockpit. She let out one final horrendous scream as her flesh melted away to the flame. “1.6 million times lig—” She never finished her words, and the pilot heard no more as everything faded to black.
~~~
“P̸̜̐͜į̶̝̦̱͂̑̋ĺ̶̘̙o̷̘̹͘t̷̛̻̆̈͗!” Alarms blared, almost covering up the sound of the commander’s voice.
The pilot’s head rolled from one side to the other. There was an almost blinding pain behind her eyes, and her arms screamed with anguish, one far more than the others. Something was wrong, she knew that much, but she didn’t know exactly what it was.
“P̸̜̐͜į̶̝̦̱͂̑̋ĺ̶̘̙o̷̘̹͘t̷̛̻̆̈͗!” the commander’s voice screamed again. “Wake up!”
Blinking, she saw fire streak across the cockpit window. It wasn’t gold fire, but regular orange flame. Past that she could see a horizon far in the distance, but fast approaching. “W-where am I?”
“P̸̜̐͜į̶̝̦̱͂̑̋ĺ̶̘̙o̷̘̹͘t̷̛̻̆̈͗, deploy chutes now! I can’t reach the controls.”
“What?” His words didn’t make any sense to her.
“Deploy chutes now, goddamn it!”
Though she still didn’t understand, her body acted on command. Decades of drills had trained not just her mind to respond, but also her body. An arm reached forward before flipping a switch on the mostly intact control panel. There was a large bang as the chute panels fired off the vessel. New alarms flared, and somehow she managed to understand what they were. “Chute 3 malfu—”
A massive swoosh sounded as chutes 1, 2, 4 deployed, catching the atmosphere. The pilot groaned as Expedition 6 spun around, the cockpit now facing the sky. “Three chutes good,” she said, trying to catch her breath, her eyes locked on the chutes above her.
“We’re coming in too fast,” the commander said. “Fire RCS straight down.”
Slightly more aware of what was going on, the pilot did just that, or at least tried to. When she hit the buttons and switches, she got no response from Expedition. “RCS not responding,” she said. “E̷͈͒̑n̴̘̘̾͠g̵͖͕̩̞̓̈i̶͓̥̻͙͗̎͝n̴̟͍͕̫̎e̴̤͙̽̎ḛ̴̎̀r̴̡̤̻̔, reroute power thr—”
“E̷͈͒̑n̴̘̘̾͠g̵͖͕̩̞̓̈i̶͓̥̻͙͗̎͝n̴̟͍͕̫̎e̴̤͙̽̎ḛ̴̎̀r̴̡̤̻̔ is gone. Detach the drive.”
That sentence brought her back to full awareness. “Sir, if we drop the drive, we won’t have a chance of getting ho—”
“That’s an order, P̸̜̐͜į̶̝̦̱͂̑̋ĺ̶̘̙o̷̘̹͘t̷̛̻̆̈͗!”
She didn’t second-guess him. It took her less than two seconds to detach the drive, drastically reducing the weight of Expedition 6. “Drive detached.”
“Deploy flotation devices. It will cushion our landing more.”
“Sir, we need those to stay afloat.”
“This is a dry landing, P̸̜̐͜į̶̝̦̱͂̑̋ĺ̶̘̙o̷̘̹͘t̷̛̻̆̈͗.”
This was bad. “Yes, Commander. Flotation assistance deployed.”
“Prepare for impact,” the commander said.
The pilot took a deep breath, held it, and counted in her head. 1…2…3…4. Impact.