3
Carrie, dressed in her new service uniform, smoothed her hand over her ponytail, and glanced down at the UNF Space Duty insignia on her blouse. A sense of pride swirled within her to finally be able to wear this patch. Riding in the back of an air-taxi on her way to the Space Dock, she kept looking at her watch. She was a little edgy, not wanting to be late, and wanting her father to call.
She looked out the window at Fort Centralis, the gray buildings and the soldiers all whizzing past her as though she were in a time capsule that was swiftly taking her away from the life she knew. She smiled to herself at the thought, and looked up into the sky; her destination. She saw clouds gathering over the horizon, and could almost feel the change of season in the air. Autumn was finally here. She would miss this, she thought, the chance to look up into the blue sky and sunshine. Soon it would be nothing but the darkness of space.
She’d called Fort Centralis home for just shy of a year now, in anticipation that one day she would be enrolled in Space Duty. Fort Centralis was an engineering masterpiece. Built on a man-made island, it was permanently fixed to the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, approximately halfway between North America and the United Kingdom, in the Atlantic Ocean. Centralis was the administration hub for all UNF operations, covering both Earth Duty and Space Duty. It was also the most secure city in the world, not just because of the elite forces that inhabited it but also because of the systems in place to protect it.
Advanced radar technology surrounded the island, picking up any craft approaching it, whether by sea, air or space. There was a constant rotation of the latest high-tech stealth submarines patrolling around the island, sweeping for possible attacks. An extensive port facility was located on the south side of the island for seafaring ships, and on the north side, the largest aerospace facility on the planet, which included a commercial airport, and of course, the Command Space Docks.
The entire city was designed to function as a massive military base, although a third of the island was classed as a civilian area for those companies supplying goods and services to the UNF. Soldiers, like Carrie, also had the option to live on-base or off-base in the civilian area if they so chose. Regardless of which section one lived in, built in the middle of the ocean, with the best defense technology available, Centralis was an impenetrable fortress. It even had a weather shield to protect it from incoming oceanic storms. There really was no safer place in the world.
As the air-taxi hovered over the streets, she said her goodbyes to the city, trying to soak up her surrounds, and wanting to remember what her last day as an Earth Duty soldier felt like. She eyed the buildings again, like rectangular blocks of a barricade sprouting from the ground, and noted the soldiers on guard walking the pavement, a mixture of both Earth Duty “greens” and Space Duty “blues”. She scanned the few civilians stopping at auto-coffee booths, distracted by their personal data ports. Then she watched the cargo-hummer trucks, big bulky carriers that still managed to fit on civilian width roads, bringing in supplies from the Sea Port. She studied the UNF troop vehicles (UTVs), like tanks crossed with small buses, and then, as she got closer to the Space Dock, the spacecraft zooming overhead.
When she arrived, the air-taxi hovered down to the ground, to its allotted parking station at the dock’s entrance. She swiped her card for payment and the man at the controls gave her a nod. She stepped out and made her way to the security booth. She’d been here several times before, but had always traveled through the commercial airport terminals to the west, not the UNF Space Dock, so she was keen to finally check it out. Her eyes eagerly scanned the perimeter. Although she couldn’t see anything over the large security fencing surrounding the compound, she could hear a hub of activity going on behind it. Her pulse quickened and a subtle smile grew across her face.
Security checked her ID, then waved her through to the screening zone, where she would undergo a whole body scan, similar to the Tube at Command. Passing through it successfully, she collected her kitbag, then stepped through the large steel doors and out onto the UNF Space Dock.
Pausing for a moment, she took in the scene before her. A mass of activity, the dock spread out as far as the eye could see. There were gray control towers, like mini-fortresses, surrounding the landscape, with runways and launch pads spread out before them like bumpy tentacles. Hundreds of spacecraft of all shapes and sizes were stationed in neat formations, while soldiers scurried among them, dodging the CargoBots—small robotic transport vehicles—that weaved swiftly in and out of the bays.
She saw a locator screen to her right and walked over to assess exactly where she needed to go. She typed in Dock 559 and the screen zoomed in on the destination, then traced a path from Dock 559 to her current location. The dock was located on an outer arm by the ocean to the west. Hitching her bag over her shoulder, she set off to find it.
She had to admit, she actually got a thrill walking past the ships, watching the soldiers scurrying around, loading and unloading cargo, hearing the roar of engines firing up and the smell of smoke and vapor wafting in the air. Her body was awash with exhilaration. She was finally here, finally doing this.
Suddenly her phone rang, making her heart stop. She quickly unclipped it from her belt. It was her father.
“Dad! Hi,” she answered.
“Carrie, what’s going on?” Her father’s voice had a concerned edge to it.
“How’re you going? Where’ve you been today?” She tried to buy time, suddenly unsure how to tell him.
“I was visiting a friend. What was it you wanted to tell me? It sounded urgent.”
“Yeah, well, it is …” she said, looking around to make sure no-one was listening. She couldn’t believe she was feeling like a little girl “fessing up” to her father, as though asking his permission in a way. “I … applied for Space Duty,” she told him.
There was silence down the phone. She swallowed and continued.
“I was accepted! They signed me up for my first mission already!” she said with a “look on the bright side” feel to it.
He remained silent on the end of the phone.
“Dad,” she sighed, “I want this. I’ve worked hard for this. I know how you feel about it, but I’ll be fine. It’s what I want.”
Still there was silence.
“Look … this is my time now. Just be happy for me. Please?”
He waited a few more seconds before responding. “If that’s what you want,” he said plainly. His voice was devoid of emotion, as though he was talking to a fellow soldier.
“I do, so don’t lay a guilt trip on me, okay?” she said, rubbing her temple.
“I’m not doing anything, Ree. If this is what you really want, then I can’t stop you. When do you leave?”
“I’m, er, at the dock now. Just found out this morning!”
“This morning!” he blurted. “Urgent mission then.” She could hear him rubbing his whiskers, could tell his mind was ticking over. “They’re sending a p-star up there on an urgent mission?”
“Protostars have to start somewhere,” she said a little defensively, taking offence to the Space Duty slang he used, basically calling her a greenhorn.
“Where you headed?”
“That’s classified, Dad,” she said, “you know that.”
“Of course,” he said, sounding a little hurt. She wondered whether she’d heard a twinge of regret? Did he miss life in the forces? Did he wish it was him going? Or was it because his only child was leaving the planet for some unknown destination?
“Who’s the captain?” he recommenced in soldier mode.
“Captain Saul Harris.”
“Harris? Never heard of him!” he said, dismissively.
“Dad,” she laughed a little, “maybe that’s because he’s about twenty years younger than you.”
He was silent again.
“Look, everything will be fine. I have to go …”
“Well,” he said, still in soldier mode, “you be safe. Don’t take unnecessary risks. Make sure you sleep well and eat well. Space is different on the body, you know? And keep your gun close when you can!” Then his voice softened again. “Just … make sure you come home, alright? And keep in touch. Time gets lost out there, when it’s always night.”
“I know it does, Dad,” she said. “I grew up with you as my father, remember.”
He adopted his soldier tone again. “Alright … well, thanks for the call. Have a good journey.” And with that he hung up.
She suddenly held an image in her mind of her father sitting alone in his apartment, no wife, no daughter. She was glad that he hadn’t argued or made it hard for her, but at the same time this felt just as bad. His silence had been deafening.
Someone yelled in the distance, snapping her out of her thoughts. A CargoBot was reversing up to one of the ships and its bay was opening. She looked at her watch. 14:39. Better move it, she thought. Hiking her kitbag higher over her shoulder, she stepped up the pace in the direction of Dock 559.
*
Harris sat in his office on board the Aurora, and began rereading the Darwin e-file. He did most of his work here in his office; it was his home away from home. Located just outside the main flight deck, it was a reasonable size, able to accommodate several soldiers should he ever need to address that many in private. The walls were a silvery blue and his desk, fixed to the floor, occupied a large section near the back wall, facing the door. A large bookshelf spanned the wall to his right, filled with a combination of research books and novels. The wall to the left of his desk was plain, except for a single large painting of a futuristic vision of life in space. Along the wall facing his desk, which was emblazoned with the UNF Space Duty insignia, he had his own coffee prep station. When he was working on reports, or having conference transmissions with Command, he needed to be shut off from the rest of the ship and work for hours uninterrupted, if necessary. He liked the solitude. It gave him focus.
Doc appeared in the doorway and rapped his knuckles on the frame. Harris waved his first lieutenant forward, then walked over to shake his hand.
“Doc. Looking tanned, I see,” he nodded at him.
“Captain,” Doc said, studying him. “You look … a little tired.”
“Big night, Doc. I wasn’t expecting a call at 0449.” Harris returned to his desk and sat down.
“That our mission info?” Doc motioned to the e-file lying on his desk with multiple folders open on the pane.
“Yeah. Our new recruits,” Harris said, as he took a blank e-file, laid it beside the other, then transferred the information over from one to the other with a swish of his finger.
“When do they arrive?”
“Now! You better start reading.” Harris handed the e-file pane over to Doc.
“Yes, sir!” Doc turned and headed back toward the door flicking his fingers across the screen and scrolling the files as he went. A look of confusion suddenly crossed his face, and he stopped and turned back. “Captain, you’ve given me their whole file here?”
Harris stared back. “I want them back on my desk by 1800.”
Doc, still looking a little confused, nodded anyway. “Yes, sir,” he said, then left.
It wasn’t normal procedure to hand over a soldier’s entire personnel file to the ship’s medic. Doc was usually only granted access to their medical file. However, Harris thought in this case it may just help things along. He figured that if Doc knew a bit more about the new recruits’ profiles, he might find connections to help make their transition that bit smoother. After all, they would reach Darwin in just three days, so he didn’t have much time at hand for a suitable integration program.
He turned back to the mission file again and tried to read between the lines, wanting to guess what information Command had omitted in their classification. He called up his ultra-thin flat screen and keypad, which rose from a slot in his desk and began numerous searches on Professor Sharley and his crew. After searching for some time, he eventually came across one small piece of information that aroused his interest. It seemed there were certain human rights groups who disapproved of Sharley’s rumored methods when it came to “treating” the prisoners in Hell Town. Although the information did not go into much detail, it did suggest his studies on human behavior had enabled him to perfect the manipulation and torture of people on both an emotional and physical scale.
Curious, Harris started looking further into Hell Town. It was the only structure built in the northern hemisphere of Mars, wedged on a plain between the mighty Olympus Mons and Ascraeus Mons. It was the most advanced prison in history for several reasons. Firstly, it was extremely isolated. Any prisoner who managed to escape the inescapable would not survive long on the outside without food or water, neither of which was readily available as the nearest colony was some 3,500 miles away. Of course no escapee could survive outside the purification domes without access to a spacesuit either.
Secondly, the prison itself was fully automated and fully monitored. The structure itself and surrounding areas, were under constant surveillance via a number of sensors and radars. No-one got in or out without iris and fingerprint scans. Prisoners even needed a scan to use the toilet in their cells. If their iris or fingerprints were picked up anywhere they weren’t supposed to be, punishment ensued. You stepped a foot out of line, and you paid the price. The prisoners learnt this very quickly.
Thirdly, human guards were still used in Hell Town. However, their uniforms were a synthetic sheath, impregnated with a special lightweight metal, making it impervious to both sharp and blunt objects. They were also armed with state-of-the-art taser weapons, which could only be activated by fingerprint recognition. The prisoners loathed the system, but soon learnt that to fight against it meant they would be introduced to Warden Sharley’s system of discipline and punishment. What exactly that was, Harris didn’t know, but rumor or not, if human rights groups were against it, he could only imagine that it would not have been pleasant.
He sat there digesting this new information awhile before heading over to his coffee machine. He figured that he still had time for one more strong black coffee before he undertook his pre-flight physical and debriefed the men. He poured a cup and took a sip, feeling a little more alive now than he did this morning, but he had to admit he was looking forward to hitting the sack that evening.
He stood beside his coffee machine, circling his neck around and stretching out his back. He hadn’t been this tense in a long time. He wondered if it was all that dancing in the jazz club the night before?
Funnily enough, the dream he’d had of Sibbie and Etta flashed through his mind again, but he quickly shook it away with a chuckle. Growing up, he’d obviously listened to his sister, Holly, more than he’d thought he had. Damn that woman! He smiled to himself. He was sure he’d feel better tomorrow, once he’d slept the remnants of the hangover away.
He sipped his coffee and listened to how still the ship was. No voices, just the low hum of the ship as it idled, charging up its power stores. Soon enough the men would be arriving and that would all change. It only made him curious, then, as to how Doc was progressing with the new recruits?
*
Carrie, after clearing through yet another guard post, finally made her way onto Dock 559. It sprawled out in a doglegged fashion before her, angling off to the left behind a large electrical substation. As soon as she cleared the building, she suddenly saw before her the large, brown beast she assumed was the Aurora.
So this is my ship, huh? She smiled. She ran her eyes over the craft from tail to tip. A couple hundred meters long, and roughly oval-shaped, it had a rounded smooth core and underbelly, with sharp angular wings protruding here and there along its sides and spine. It looked sleek enough for speed, but bulky enough for sheer power, as it loomed large above her. From afar, its brown color looked like rust. As she neared, however, she took a closer look, running her hand along its side and realized that it was some sort of rough protective metal coating, no doubt playing its part when the ship’s defensive shield was engaged.
It took her a minute or so to walk down to the boarding entrance. Although the ship was not as large as some docked there, it was certainly the biggest one she’d seen up this close. She wondered how many crew it carried?
After having her ID scanned by yet another guard at the ship’s entrance, she stepped over the Aurora’s threshold, feeling goosebumps scatter along both her arms. Staring ahead at the Space Duty insignia of the wall opposite, and fighting hard to keep her smile in check, she turned left onto the main corridor as per the guard’s instructions, and saw Packham up ahead, waiting outside what she assumed was the medic’s rooms.
“Sergeant Packham,” she nodded as she approached.
Packham returned the nod. “Corporal Colt’s in there now,” she motioned to the closed door.
Carrie nodded again and surveyed the long gray metal corridor either side of them. The place seemed deserted and she was jumping out of her skin to explore it all. Before too long Colt emerged from the medic’s office. She gave Carrie a smile hello, and told her to go on through.
As Carrie stepped inside and closed the door behind her, she saw an empty office before her, and doorways to rooms either side of where she stood. The one to the left appeared to be a small hospital, as she saw a row of bed capsules through the doorway, with their pod covers and tubes hanging overhead from the ceiling. She looked through the doorway on her right and saw a line of cabinets against the wall, filled with medical supplies.
“Take a seat. I’ll be with you in just a second,” she heard a man’s American accent call to her from inside the room.
She walked over to the desk, placed her bag on the floor and took a seat. The office in which she sat seemed a little unbalanced. The furniture was all crammed up the one end where the desk was, and it was bare at the other end by the entry door and adjacent doors to the other rooms. The busy end had a medium sized overflowing bookshelf, filled with various medical journals, UNF policy and procedure manuals, and strangely enough, travel guides. There was also an e-filing rack; long thin slots in the wall, like letterbox mouths, where the e-file panes were stored, under pin-code release. The medic’s desk itself was covered with a few e-file panes, e-clipboards, and other equipment. She leaned forward a little in her chair, trying to get a better look at the panes, but heard him coming and quickly sat back in her chair.
He walked up to her and put his hand out. She looked up at him.
“How you doing? First Lieutenant Walker,” he said in a firm but friendly voice.
She smiled and shook his hand. “Corporal Welles.”
“Nice to meet you, Corporal Welles. The guys on the ship call me Doc, so feel free to do the same.” He walked around to sit on the opposite side of the desk, opening up what she assumed was her e-file, and began scanning it. “So you had your Space Duty medical just a few weeks ago,” he said, reading her file, “and you’ve never been to space before. Not even on holiday?” he asked, looking up at her.
“No, sir.”
“Never been to Station Atlantis?” He seemed quite surprised.
She shook her head again. Space travel was still considered a luxury and something she couldn’t afford. And even if she could, she wouldn’t be spending it somewhere like the funfair, tourist-park station of Atlantis.
“You’re missing out,” he smiled. “Great rides!”
She smiled back. He seemed pretty relaxed for a lieutenant. As he kept reading through her file, she subtly studied him. He was a lot younger than she’d expected. When she was told to report to the medic she expected either some old guy with gray hair or some straitlaced middle aged man, but Doc looked only a few years older than her. He was good looking too, with short brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, smooth features and a nice smile. His uniform sleeves were pushed up to his elbows and she noticed his forearms, and wondered how he kept a tan like that in space?
He looked back up at her, “Okay, you passed your Space Duty medical with flying colors.” He shut her folder and grabbed an e-clip sitting in a tray on his desk. “This physical is routine and fairly simple. We just need to ascertain your physical condition right now, today, before we take off. We check it regularly while we’re away, and then we have a closing medical to say that we released you in fine condition,” he explained.
Carrie nodded in understanding. “Yes, sir.”
Doc grabbed an electronic pen and scrawled her name and the date at the top of the e-clip’s electronic form. She guessed he would complete the details on the e-clip and when he was done, simply upload onto the UNF’s network, where his handwriting would be deciphered into text, and the signature embedded into the final document. She used to process forms like that all the time in her old administration jobs.
The medic proceeded to ask a string of questions on her past medical history, and when the questions were done, he asked her to move into the examination room for the physical. She walked into the room opposite the hospital’s entrance. Rectangular in shape and brightly lit, it was obviously the medic’s main working area. There was an examination table against the wall, halfway down the room, and what looked like a small laboratory at the far end. There were various cabinets of medical supplies and equipment taking up the other wall space.
She made her way over to the table and sat up on it next to the blood pressure equipment. Doc came in shortly after with the e-clip. He placed it beside her on the table and pulled over a stool to sit down in front of her.
“Can you hold out your arm for me, please?” he asked, getting the BP equipment ready.
Carrie held out her right arm. He placed a flat, white monitor disc on the inside of her upper arm and began wrapping it tightly with the armband.
“So, I’m told you’re quite the shooter?” he said, inflating the armband.
She smiled. “I’m alright.”
“Alright? That’s not what I hear.”
Carrie shrugged. It wasn’t her style to boast.
The armband was quite tight around her arm, and the machine beeped and started the deflation slowly.
“You must be looking forward to your first space trip?” he asked, watching her closely to gauge her response.
“Very much, sir. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”
“Yeah, well, it’s certainly different to Earth Duty,” he said noting down her reading on the e-clip and unwrapping the armband. “Some newcomers get motion sickness, particularly on takeoff, so if you feel queasy just let me know and I’ll give you an anti-nausea shot. Make sure you keep your fluids up, too. The air on the ship can dry you out. If you get any headaches or notice anything peculiar, just come and see me,” he said, packing away the BP monitor.
“Yes, sir,” she nodded.
“Now we’ve just got to check your vitals. If you can unbutton the top of your shirt,” he motioned, “I’ll place these suckers on.” He held up a couple more of the white discs that he’d just placed on the inside of her arm, then turned and wheeled over a machine that was sitting to his right. Carrie undid the first couple of buttons of her blouse to just above her cleavage. Doc turned back to her.
“Ah, just a little bit more than that,” he said, pointing to her stomach. “I need it down to here, soldier.”
“Sorry, sir,” she said, and undid the extra buttons, feeling a little embarrassed as Doc turned back to her again. She was starting to regret that she didn’t wear the singlet underneath her shirt, not to mention the fact that she wore her best push-up bra that day. Underneath the uniform it made her look perky and great, but now it was exposed she was feeling more Playboy Bunny than serious soldier, offering Doc a great view. She made a mental note to pull out her boring bra from here on in.
Doc continued on as though he hadn’t noticed, or at least, was pretending he hadn’t noticed. He grabbed one disc and placed it halfway between her right shoulder and right breast, another over her heart, and the third he placed further down under her left breast. She immediately heard her heart beating on the monitor beside them, and wondered if maybe it was pumping a little quickly. She didn’t want to seem nervous. She studied the machine’s screen and saw it was broken up into three monitors, one for each disc. One was clearly registering her heartbeat, the other two she figured were her lungs, the chart’s crest rising and falling in time with her breathing.
After recording the readings for a moment, and then testing her lung capacity, by having her blow into a long white tube, Doc looked back to the e-clip at the uploaded results, while she swiftly buttoned her blouse again.
“Right, that all looks fine. I just need to give you one last scan and we’re done.” He stood and walked to the opposite wall. “If you could just stand here and look straight ahead at the wall,” he told her.
Carrie walked over to a marker on the floor, and did as requested, noticing him eyeing her carefully. He appeared to be judging her height. She heard a buzzing sound and saw a silver lever jutting out from the wall, move down in line with the top of her head. She glanced back at him, trying to judge his height and figured he was maybe just shy of six foot.
“This machine scans your brain,” Doc told her. “It also reads your eye, ear and nose health.”
She heard another noise and the lever extended out from the wall to become a metal arm, which positioned itself directly above her skull. A series of metal fingers protruded from the arm and they began moving back and forth rapidly, scanning her.
“Some people have issues with their ears up there,” Doc told her. “Again, if you have any problems, come and see me and I’ll sort it out.”
She nodded in reply, eyeing the silver fingers carefully as they finished scanning her and retracted back into the arm, and then the wall. The e-clip lit up again and Doc checked the results.
“Okay, we’re done. If you just want to wait outside with the others, I’ll be out in a moment to show you to your quarters.”
Carrie joined the two women outside and Doc emerged soon after. He lead them down the corridor to a T-junction, took a right, then a left, and continued on down. Carrie noticed that the corridors were all the same. Gray metal flooring, with gray metal walls, occasionally emblazoned with the UN Space Forces insignia. It looked like any other military facility; formal and functional.
“These are the soldier’s quarters,” Doc said. “You’ll need your pass to access many parts of this ship. Some areas are always open though, like the mess hall, the training facility, and generally the flight deck as it’s always manned.” He lead them down to the furthermost door on the right. “We bunk up two to a room on this ship, but for this mission the three of you will be bunking together. Can I have one of your passes, please?”
Packham was closest, so she stepped up to the access panel and swiped the card whilst it was still attached to her waist. The door unlocked and slid open.
“There you go,” Doc told them. “Unpack and settle in, soldiers. The beds have been assigned, so look for your name.”
Carrie followed Packham into the room, but Colt stopped at the door.
“When do we get to meet the rest of the crew, sir?” she asked.
“There will be a briefing at 1700, but you’re to remain here in your quarters until I come and get you.”
“Yes, sir,” Colt said entering the room, as Doc turned and walked away.
The door closed behind them, and the three women scanned their quarters. It was a little snug. There was a bunk bed against one wall and a single bed against the other. Off to the side, there was a door leading to an en suite, again a little on the small side but not bad considering some of the bathrooms Carrie had seen over the years. Colt walked over to the single bed and saw her name, threw her kitbag on it and sat down. Carrie saw she had the bottom bunk-bed, so she dumped her bag, and they each sat on their beds for a moment taking in the room.
“Well, this is it ladies,” Colt said, nodding to herself as she looked around the room. “Looks like we’ll be getting to know each other real well.”