Michael Bickford
Lost Coast Writers, Redwood Coast
My first post for crit! Anxious and excited. I've had good interactions with all the nice, smart folks I've encountered here so far. Ready for that to change somewhat when y'all land into my piece!
Being a novel, this is just the opening to several set-ups. I want readers to have certain questions—to wonder about certain things that will come out over the first few chapters. So, I'm interested in what you notice, may be unsure of, or even confused by because questions and uncertainties are part of the set-up for details to be revealed in time.
Thank you for reading it.
A Distant Blue Light
PART ONE
1.0 Launch
“OIT5 requesting permission to engage boosters.”
This twenty-third launch will be a first in the pilot’s twelve-year career: the boosters will be accelerating Orbital Industry’s Transport Module 5 completely out of earth-orbit, placing it on a path around the sun. So, even after twenty-two launches, the excitement around this one would have been almost overwhelming, but dread lurks just below the surface as well because far more is being launched in the next few minutes than a transport module to a five-year mission. In this astronaut’s young life, the prospect of failure looms larger than ever before.
“Permission certified, OIT5. Final clearance on your request. Looking good you two!”
The flight engineer, on the other hand, has experienced only two previous acceleration events—the initial ground-launch, two weeks ago, and a subsequent relaunch into their current geosynchronous orbit at L2—yet has a cool confidence partially based on that dearth of experience, but more fundamentally grounded in deep self-knowledge.
“Enga–agment?”
“Is that a joke?”
“Sort of. I mean, we never really did that part.”
“Oh, OK. I’m saying yes all over again then, if you’re asking.”
“Roger that.”
“Having second thoughts?”
“Negative.”
“Oh, just negative thoughts.”
“Negatory on the negatives.”
“Ha! That’s good, cuz it’s too late now.”
“Roger that.”
Checking for scratch-worthy readouts, they scan once more the red and green graphics that pulse and crawl across the holographic display hovering before them, the starfield through the flight deck’s view-port dimmed by its artificial brilliance. The pilot’s biodata looks like a flunked polygraph—biofeedback failing them as usual—heartrate, blood pressure, endocrine readings all in the yellow; only the breath coming slow, steady, and deep, keeping O2 saturation nominal. The flight engineer on the other hand is either a stone-cold liar, or naturally calm in stressful situations. The pilot relaxes a few beats per minute knowing the latter to be the case.
“Ready to engage auxiliary engines on this end. Orbital Industries Transport Module 5 requesting final clearance. Just say the word, Willa.”
“Roger, OIT5. The window is open and L2 Control is green. We are GO for full auxiliary burn on your mark. See you on the other side!” The faux enthusiasm in Willa’s usually calm voice strikes them both as funny, but neither of them laugh. Willa isn’t capable of being intentionally humorous.
“OK, then. No joke this time. Engaging. On my mark, 3 – 2 – 1 – Engage auxiliary engines.”
“Auxiliary engines engaged.”
The reusable boosters that will power the newlyweds out of L2 orbit press their backs into their twin acceleration seats. Fighting the rising gs, Del slides a gloved hand across the padded console between them. Naz, sensing this, reciprocates. “I know this is the right thing to do, Del,” says Naz.
“I do too,” says Del.
As the gs multiply, they relax as they have been trained to do, mindful of their breathing: inhale, count, hold, count, release, count, repeat. Display off, they monitor their own bodies for strain. As the invisible weight builds up on their chests, they sink deeper into the e-foam, letting the computers do the work until the big burn is over and they can float freely in the spacecraft that will be their home for the nine-month journey to the cluster of asteroids they will be mining.
Being a novel, this is just the opening to several set-ups. I want readers to have certain questions—to wonder about certain things that will come out over the first few chapters. So, I'm interested in what you notice, may be unsure of, or even confused by because questions and uncertainties are part of the set-up for details to be revealed in time.
Thank you for reading it.
A Distant Blue Light
PART ONE
1.0 Launch
“OIT5 requesting permission to engage boosters.”
This twenty-third launch will be a first in the pilot’s twelve-year career: the boosters will be accelerating Orbital Industry’s Transport Module 5 completely out of earth-orbit, placing it on a path around the sun. So, even after twenty-two launches, the excitement around this one would have been almost overwhelming, but dread lurks just below the surface as well because far more is being launched in the next few minutes than a transport module to a five-year mission. In this astronaut’s young life, the prospect of failure looms larger than ever before.
“Permission certified, OIT5. Final clearance on your request. Looking good you two!”
The flight engineer, on the other hand, has experienced only two previous acceleration events—the initial ground-launch, two weeks ago, and a subsequent relaunch into their current geosynchronous orbit at L2—yet has a cool confidence partially based on that dearth of experience, but more fundamentally grounded in deep self-knowledge.
“Enga–agment?”
“Is that a joke?”
“Sort of. I mean, we never really did that part.”
“Oh, OK. I’m saying yes all over again then, if you’re asking.”
“Roger that.”
“Having second thoughts?”
“Negative.”
“Oh, just negative thoughts.”
“Negatory on the negatives.”
“Ha! That’s good, cuz it’s too late now.”
“Roger that.”
Checking for scratch-worthy readouts, they scan once more the red and green graphics that pulse and crawl across the holographic display hovering before them, the starfield through the flight deck’s view-port dimmed by its artificial brilliance. The pilot’s biodata looks like a flunked polygraph—biofeedback failing them as usual—heartrate, blood pressure, endocrine readings all in the yellow; only the breath coming slow, steady, and deep, keeping O2 saturation nominal. The flight engineer on the other hand is either a stone-cold liar, or naturally calm in stressful situations. The pilot relaxes a few beats per minute knowing the latter to be the case.
“Ready to engage auxiliary engines on this end. Orbital Industries Transport Module 5 requesting final clearance. Just say the word, Willa.”
“Roger, OIT5. The window is open and L2 Control is green. We are GO for full auxiliary burn on your mark. See you on the other side!” The faux enthusiasm in Willa’s usually calm voice strikes them both as funny, but neither of them laugh. Willa isn’t capable of being intentionally humorous.
“OK, then. No joke this time. Engaging. On my mark, 3 – 2 – 1 – Engage auxiliary engines.”
“Auxiliary engines engaged.”
The reusable boosters that will power the newlyweds out of L2 orbit press their backs into their twin acceleration seats. Fighting the rising gs, Del slides a gloved hand across the padded console between them. Naz, sensing this, reciprocates. “I know this is the right thing to do, Del,” says Naz.
“I do too,” says Del.
As the gs multiply, they relax as they have been trained to do, mindful of their breathing: inhale, count, hold, count, release, count, repeat. Display off, they monitor their own bodies for strain. As the invisible weight builds up on their chests, they sink deeper into the e-foam, letting the computers do the work until the big burn is over and they can float freely in the spacecraft that will be their home for the nine-month journey to the cluster of asteroids they will be mining.