Michael Bickford
Lost Coast Writers, Redwood Coast
I abandoned the ungendered pronoun experiment. Hope this is clearer. I added more dialog attribution, but I don't like how it interrupts the flow of dialog so I want to keep it to a minimum. Can you follow who is speaking? Can you feel the differences that attract them to each other and the contradictions in their relationship that will complicate things? Do you wonder how this situation came about?
Thank you for reading.
A Distant Blue Light
PART ONE
1.0 Launch
“Orbital Industries Transport Module 5 requesting permission to engage boosters.”
Naz has never been so nervous. Twelve years as an astronaut, countless surface launches and big burn accelerations, the last ten as a pilot, yet she’s twitching like it’s her first blast out of Palmdale. Always wired and ready, she doesn’t remember sweat ever accumulating faster than her flight suit could wick it away. Like a tight tropical greenhouse pressing in all around her, she feels the urge to rip it off, come up for cool air. Leaving earth orbit for the first time would be enough to make her sweat, but far more is being launched in the next few minutes than a transport module to a five-year mission. This is also the start of her honeymoon.
She glances at Del, her flight engineer and new husband, strapped into the acceleration seat to her right. Locked in as usual, she thinks. He won’t even look my way until we come out the other side. A tremor of resentment tinged with envy rises, but immediately melts into admiration. He’s gonna take some getting used to, but you can do this, Nazareth. It’s all gonna be worth it. She allows her glance to become a gaze that lingers into a relaxing sigh. He is pretty ****ing beautiful, though. Del does not seem to notice her smiling at him.
“Permission certified, OIT5. Final clearance on your request. Looking good you two!”
Drumming a rhythm on her armrests, Naz refocuses. She jumps a little into her belts, recoils, and presses into the e-foam, steeling herself for the gs to come. “Roger, Mora. Your call, Del.”
The flight engineer is remarkably calm. Del 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. His cool confidence, based partially on that very dearth of experience, is more fundamentally grounded in deep self-knowledge. He is in fact quite aware of Naz’s scrutiny. He enjoys her fascination with his unflappable demeanor. Now a wry smile tightens his lips, his eyes fixing her in his peripheral vision while he assesses data in the holographic display before them.
“Enga–agment?” he drawls.
“Is that a joke?” Naz’s nervous energy adding a slight screech.
“Sort of. I mean, we never really did that part.” His premeditated breakdown of her concentration is working perfectly.
“Oh. O–K.” Naz’s steel melts away. She looks over at him again, but he is set on the display as if someone else had just spoken. Naz squints at him and plays along. “I’m saying yes all over again then, if you’re asking.”
“Roger that.”
“Having second thoughts?” I gotta get a rise outta this guy.
“Negative.”
“Oh, just negative thoughts.”
“Negatory on the negatives.”
“Ha! That’s good, cuz it’s too late now.”
“Roger that,” says Del and finally sends a sidelong smile Naz’s way, slowly nodding.
“You are full of surprises, Delta V, that’s for sure,” say Naz, and with another staccato drumroll she puts her game face on again. “Let’s pop the cork on this bottle-rocket!”
Checking for scratch-worthy readouts, they scan once more the red and green graphics that pulse and crawl across the display, the starfield beyond the flight deck’s view-port dimmed by its artificial brilliance. All flight data are nominal. Though Naz’s biodata looks like a flunked polygraph—biofeedback failing her as usual with heartrate, blood pressure, endocrine readings all in the yellow—Orbital’s AI knows that these are within Naz’s nominal range as well. Only her slow, deep breathing keeps her O2 saturation green. Del, on the other hand is either a stone-cold liar, or naturally calm in stressful situations. Naz' heart eases 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, Mora.”
“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 Mora’s usually calm voice strikes them both as funny, but neither of them laugh. Mora 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. T zero established at 13:47:53, UST, on Twelve July, 2152.” With a touch on an activator and a coded gesture within the display field, Del initiates the firing sequence and they feel the initial jolt.
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, Naz,” says Del.
After a micro-second of hesitation she feels certain Del doesn’t notice, Naz says, “I do too.” Here’s hoping.
The engines’ lowest frequencies rumble in their headsets and vibrate the two pleasantly. Gs multiply rapidly. Gloves still touching, the couple 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, communicating occasional mutual support with their hands. Through the view port the starfield is clear and beautiful now, still and unmoving as they rush toward it.
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.
Thank you for reading.
A Distant Blue Light
PART ONE
1.0 Launch
“Orbital Industries Transport Module 5 requesting permission to engage boosters.”
Naz has never been so nervous. Twelve years as an astronaut, countless surface launches and big burn accelerations, the last ten as a pilot, yet she’s twitching like it’s her first blast out of Palmdale. Always wired and ready, she doesn’t remember sweat ever accumulating faster than her flight suit could wick it away. Like a tight tropical greenhouse pressing in all around her, she feels the urge to rip it off, come up for cool air. Leaving earth orbit for the first time would be enough to make her sweat, but far more is being launched in the next few minutes than a transport module to a five-year mission. This is also the start of her honeymoon.
She glances at Del, her flight engineer and new husband, strapped into the acceleration seat to her right. Locked in as usual, she thinks. He won’t even look my way until we come out the other side. A tremor of resentment tinged with envy rises, but immediately melts into admiration. He’s gonna take some getting used to, but you can do this, Nazareth. It’s all gonna be worth it. She allows her glance to become a gaze that lingers into a relaxing sigh. He is pretty ****ing beautiful, though. Del does not seem to notice her smiling at him.
“Permission certified, OIT5. Final clearance on your request. Looking good you two!”
Drumming a rhythm on her armrests, Naz refocuses. She jumps a little into her belts, recoils, and presses into the e-foam, steeling herself for the gs to come. “Roger, Mora. Your call, Del.”
The flight engineer is remarkably calm. Del 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. His cool confidence, based partially on that very dearth of experience, is more fundamentally grounded in deep self-knowledge. He is in fact quite aware of Naz’s scrutiny. He enjoys her fascination with his unflappable demeanor. Now a wry smile tightens his lips, his eyes fixing her in his peripheral vision while he assesses data in the holographic display before them.
“Enga–agment?” he drawls.
“Is that a joke?” Naz’s nervous energy adding a slight screech.
“Sort of. I mean, we never really did that part.” His premeditated breakdown of her concentration is working perfectly.
“Oh. O–K.” Naz’s steel melts away. She looks over at him again, but he is set on the display as if someone else had just spoken. Naz squints at him and plays along. “I’m saying yes all over again then, if you’re asking.”
“Roger that.”
“Having second thoughts?” I gotta get a rise outta this guy.
“Negative.”
“Oh, just negative thoughts.”
“Negatory on the negatives.”
“Ha! That’s good, cuz it’s too late now.”
“Roger that,” says Del and finally sends a sidelong smile Naz’s way, slowly nodding.
“You are full of surprises, Delta V, that’s for sure,” say Naz, and with another staccato drumroll she puts her game face on again. “Let’s pop the cork on this bottle-rocket!”
Checking for scratch-worthy readouts, they scan once more the red and green graphics that pulse and crawl across the display, the starfield beyond the flight deck’s view-port dimmed by its artificial brilliance. All flight data are nominal. Though Naz’s biodata looks like a flunked polygraph—biofeedback failing her as usual with heartrate, blood pressure, endocrine readings all in the yellow—Orbital’s AI knows that these are within Naz’s nominal range as well. Only her slow, deep breathing keeps her O2 saturation green. Del, on the other hand is either a stone-cold liar, or naturally calm in stressful situations. Naz' heart eases 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, Mora.”
“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 Mora’s usually calm voice strikes them both as funny, but neither of them laugh. Mora 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. T zero established at 13:47:53, UST, on Twelve July, 2152.” With a touch on an activator and a coded gesture within the display field, Del initiates the firing sequence and they feel the initial jolt.
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, Naz,” says Del.
After a micro-second of hesitation she feels certain Del doesn’t notice, Naz says, “I do too.” Here’s hoping.
The engines’ lowest frequencies rumble in their headsets and vibrate the two pleasantly. Gs multiply rapidly. Gloves still touching, the couple 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, communicating occasional mutual support with their hands. Through the view port the starfield is clear and beautiful now, still and unmoving as they rush toward it.
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.
