. So without further ado, here it is.Oh yeah, this is copied directly out of Word, so I didn't bother putting in the paragraph breaks again... seemed like a waste of time. Sorry
[align=center]Chapter 1[/align]
January 23, 2028, Morning Glory Launch Pad, Eastern USA
Captain James Lidstrom reminisced as he buckled, zipped, strapped, tightened, fastened, and clipped his various safety apparati, securing himself in the large captain’s chair of the Colonization Vessel Morning Glory. The straps were so tight that his breath came in short, staggered bursts (then again, that may also have been due to his agonizingly nervous state, which had caused him to prematurely fill his plastic emergency waste bag with that unappetizing ham sandwich, about 10 minutes before scheduled launch).
He remembered NASA’s head of Mars Colonization, Gordon Johnson, showing him the blueprints to the Colonization Class Vessel (CCV), more than five years previously. It was a radical design, with many components and “decks”, to use the term loosely, all rotating within a gargantuan shell of metal plating. He remembered how he had stood, jaw slack, eyes wide, staring at the dimensions of the massive shuttle as his aging superior had said in a southern drawl, “Son, this is it. This is the future of the human race.” Those words had stuck with him through his training, through the tense waiting, while relations between the US and China became more and more strained; as he thought back on those two simple sentences he felt calm wash over him.
I am bringing hope, he told himself. I am bringing a chance to humanity. Then out loud, “Computer, scan the ship, check for any anomalies.” He waited several seconds while the computer checked his harness, as well as those of his crew, and moved on to other areas of the ship.
“5.397 seconds is below expected scan time,” the shuttle’s computer said, mostly to itself. “There was an issue with one of the air locks in the habitat, but it has been resolved. All systems are now green, commencing countdown on your mark.” The electronic voices of the NASA onboard computers had always seemed chilling and frighteningly robotic to James, but he shrugged the feeling away, trying as hard as he could not to let anything cloud his mind. This was the defining moment in his life. He drew a sharp breath. His heart pounded the inside of his ribs like a prisoner pounding on the bars of his cell, furiously pumping blood through his body, flushing his skin.
“Commence countdown.”
“30.” As the digit was uttered from the com speaker in the sterile, female voice, James felt his heart ram its way into his throat, contending with his stomach contents to see which could leave through his mouth first. His attention was quite abruptly torn from the sickening sensation by a pair of slim yet masculine hands firmly gripping his shoulders.
“Haha, here we go! Can you believe it, James? We’re makin’ history right now!” It was Charlie, bouncing around like a kid on Christmas, out of his seat, directly violating launch protocol. James wheeled about in his chair, glaring at the youngest member of the bridge crew, but he was so nervous, he came off as much less intimidating than he had hoped to be. Still, he retained a controlled, deep, imposing voice as he spoke.
“Get in your seat Chuck.” The young man was visibly exasperated by the nickname. “ I don’t know how the computer didn’t catch that...” He drifted off, a bit alarmed by the smirk growing on Charlie’s face.
“C’mon old man,” the recruit said, smirking even more at the annoyance on his captain’s face, “These onboard computers are a cinch to hack, if you know the right people.” He winked at Ike, who sat across the bridge, on James’ right. James wheeled to face him. Ike looked back and forth at the two of them, realizing what his peer had said.
“That’s a lie, Charlie,” Ike complained, his dark wavy hair ruffling as his head snapped to face his crewmate. He turned to James. “Sir, I didn’t show him how, honestly. I have nothing but the utmost respect for protocol.”
James sighed irritably, and turned back to Charlie. “Get in your seat, strap yourself in, and both of you shut up.”
“1,” came the monotone voice of the computer. James froze, his heart leaping up through his chest once again. “*beep*,” he murmured to himself, a new wave of sweat drenching his newly pressed and laundered captain’s uniform. Immediately he was enveloped in the numbness of antigravity. It felt like being pushed without being pushed, like movement without movement. It was impossible to describe. But he knew that they were indeed ascending when he gazed out the bridge viewport, at the rapidly passing wisps of cloud and smoke. As he looked through the viewport, he noticed on it his reflection staring back at him. He couldn’t believe how old he looked. His dark, orange-red hair was flecked with gray, and wrinkles creased his face like canyons running through a cracked, dry desert.
“If it helps,” Ike said, with no intention of horrifying James, which is what happened, “we are most likely to experience a fatal error while still in the atmosphere, so if you think about it, we’re almost home free.” He gave an innocent smile as the captain looked desperately back at him.
“I appreciate the thought, but that doesn’t help.” He felt a squeeze on his arm. He looked to the chair next to him, at his lieutenant Sandy, who was the source of the hand that held his bicep.
“Hey,” she said in a sweet, surprisingly relaxing voice, “we’re gonna be fine.” She smiled her prettiest smile at him, and he smiled back. She could always put him in a better mood.
James refocused his attention. “Kelly,” he shouted to a spot at the side of the bridge where an array of computer monitors and other complicated looking displayed were arranged in a semi-circle around another chair, in which sat a pretty young woman. Kelly looked at the captain, her piercing blue eyes set in an expectant gaze. “How’s the weapons check going?” He inquired, while double checking all of his harnesses.
“Long over,” she grinned, sweeping bangs out of her eyes, “All systems green, ready for anything the Chinese might throw at us.” Although she kept up a cheerful demeanour, she quietly hated the thought of having to engage another human being, to kill. It was ironic, she thought, that she was disposed of a natural talent for the control of weapons systems, and had been working in that field since she left school. Her last name, Luck, truly fit her. She had seen too many battles in her life, and lost too few.
James was methodically checking in with everyone on the bridge. One more to go.
“Captain, bioscans show no abnormalities, the whole crew is in prime condition.” The physician, Chelsea, having just swivelled to face him, adopted an aggravated look. “Although I see you didn’t feel the need to make sure there were no deadly viruses on the ship before you hurled us into space.” She indicated the clouds moving even more quickly downward outside the viewport and smiled a sarcastic smile.
James smiled mischievously back. “Glad to see you’re well, too, Ms. Marshall.”
* * *
There was deep, rolling rumble that shook the whole crew to their bones as red lights began flashing, and a siren whined rhythmically. “Impact!” Kelly shouted in a panicked squeal, “Starboard stern!” Blast shields drew shut over the viewports and a screen showing their surroundings through a mounted camera appeared inside the sheets of metal that blocked them from harm. Kelly spun her chair back and forth, tapping commands into various keypads.
“I want a visual on the secondary screen!” James shouted across to her, his skin creasing as his expression shifted rapidly to a scowl. An image appeared just above the main viewport, showing smoke rising from the skin of the shuttle, near the thrusters at the rear of the vessel. Kelly sighed, relieved.
“No internal damage, the external layers diverted all of the impact.” Her eyes moved hurriedly over the readings scrolling down the various monitors she watched. “Sir! Chinese Fighters coming up on us from the east,” she glanced at a small screen next to her. “They’re firing on us!”
“Return fire!” after waiting 2 seconds, too long, without a response, he looked over at her. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open. “I said return fire! Now!”
“Oh god...” she was afraid of what she was seeing, too afraid even to follow an order. More rumbling, as the ship was peppered with several more explosives. “Sir...” She whispered, unable to muster a stronger voice. Her lip was beginning to quiver. “N...nuke... they’ve launched a nuke.” For a minute, the captain just stared.
“Damn it!” he sputtered, “Computer, evasive roll!”
“Yes, sir,” the chilling voice responded. He felt a slight pull in one direction, then the antigrav thrusters started up in earnest, and he was righted. The whole bridge fell silent, save for the incessant whine of the warning signals. They watched, tension building to unbearable levels as the warhead grew steadily larger on the main screen. No one dared breathe, as if to save the breath if it was to be their last.
Kelly was the only one to make a sound. “10 kilometres and closing, sir,” she muttered.
They were at the half-way point in the roll, and if the viewport were open, it would be revealing a beautiful sunrise over the Atlantic. The WMD took up nearly the entire screen. Trajectories on Kelly’s computers showed that the nuke would hit the ship on the far port side. Kelly hoped against hope that the computers were wrong.
“5 kilometres.”
They saw nothing but the nuke, ripping through the air to meet them, and tear them all atom from atom until they were nothing but incinerated particles hanging in the air.
“1 k, it’s right on top of us!” Kelly finally managed to raise her voice, but it came out choked with tears.
The main screen filled with the light of the missile’s thrusters, and they all winced and shielded their eyes.
The air around them was deathly still. Even the computer seemed to recognize the graveness of the situation, as the constant warning lights and sirens were no longer abusing the crew’s senses. It was eerily quiet on the bridge of the Morning Glory. They dared to snatch a glimpse of the viewscreen. What it showed was the projectile rocketing off into the distance, no more harmful to them than a fly to a blue whale.
A unanimous sigh was released, followed by cheering, and a standing ovation for the manoeuvring skills of the computer, that lasted several minutes, some of the happiest moments of any of their lives. After the clapping and cheering and whooping subsided, James held up a hand.
“My friends,” he said, pausing there, “my crew,” he paused once more. “We have overcome this ever-so-slight bump in the road (a few snickers from his audience), and are now on our way,” he added his most dramatic pause yet, grinning ear to ear, “...To Mars!” There was thunderous cheering from his crew, and they all spent the next while laughing and chatting nervously about their near death experience, as the purple and orange sky of the crisp winter morning faded to the cold black of space, and the oxygen rich atmosphere peeled back around them until there was nothing but the deep emptiness of the vacuum.
