John Smith’s Journey - Chapter 15

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Chapter 15: A Question Of Gravity

The Holy Grail of normal gravity was first achieved in 2083 with the rotation of Unity Station, then four years later with Jeremiah Benton’s Graviton Plate. The difficulty of readjusting to gravity after prolonged exposure to weightlessness had affected the life of many astronauts. As plans were being made to rotate future space stations, Dr. Jeremiah Benton was working to simulate gravity harnessing natural magnetic forces via the graviton particle. His breakthrough came as he mixed specific metals with samples of muatainium. The resulting alloy had a gravitational type of magnetism when an electrical field wads passed through it. The level of gravity could be adjusted by varying the strength of the electrical field. The potential for deep-space exploration had opened up as never before. The Graviton Plate was like a magnet and could be placed on a wall, a floor or even a ceiling. Wherever the Plate was laid essentially became the floor.

Summer of 2090 saw Colossus completed and Unity towed to lunar orbit. Larger, more powerful craft made short work of the job as Unity reached its new orbit in only three days. When the day came for Unity to be released, I was on the rim of Shackleton Crater looking to the north near the horizon. Unity was shining in the sunlight as the largest star visible in the black sky. Thoughts and memories of K'neshia flooded my mind as I watched Unity’s release. Thoughts of my first flight on the Phoenix, her leadership on subsequent missions and, unfortunately, her untimely death in the airlock. OK, I admit it. She was the one woman that I had a crush on. Of all the women I’d known over the centuries, she was someone special. I only wish I would have told her so before... but it was too late. Then it hit me. I finally understood Frank’s obsession with Selena. Though K'neshia was human, I was infatuated—head over heels in love. But there was no way to tell her now.

My headset suddenly crackled to life. “Mason!”

What the...? There it was again. That voice. I reset my communication link and headed back to the crew quarters, hoping it was just a case of crew chatter or cross-talk. As I removed my helmet in the locker room, I thought I heard a woman laughing through the earpiece. I quickly looked around the room to see if anyone heard it. But no one was in the room. After my shower I headed to my quarters for some shut-eye.

Much of Colossus had already been in use as only a few flight hangers and maintenance decks remained to be completed. At four miles in diameter it was the largest vessel yet constructed. For the first few years Colossus rotated to simulate gravity at its outer edge. But with Dr. Jeremiah Benton’s development of the “Graviton Plate” alloy, gravity was produced in any intensity up to 1-1/2 times that of Earth. The device was perfected to the point where smaller versions were installed in space craft to allow enough gravity to prevent motion sickness in even the most vulnerable. Early failures occurred at the most unexpected times, such as dinner. Liquids were required to remain in sealed containers until the bugs could be worked out.

I was one of the first people selected to experience the new ship-sized generators. Dr. Benton also invited Frank Hughes, Tim Knighton, Unity Station Flight Surgeon Harry Summers in addition to various and sundry bureaucrats and politicians to the Riata for the demonstration. I noticed a couple of the political administrative assistants were Sandrite. While introductions were made, I was able to exchange information with them. Frank joined in some of the conversations and was a great help in setting up dinners and other times we could meet.

Before Dr. Benton’s demonstration, I cornered Frank. “It happened again... the voice. What do I do?”

“I told you to contact the Council and report it. Get in touch with Councilman Shondrahn. I’ll let her know you’ll be contacting her.”

Remember when I said before that I would give you more information on Jaleenah? I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit longer. But suffice it to say my concern with Jaleenah wasn’t with her position, but our past—long past—relationship. For about 90 years we were considered an item. It was back in France during the 1700’s. We moved around a few times, but always worked it out to where we would meet in order to rekindle our relationship. She was, and hopefully still is, a good friend. But the romantic part of our relationship ended when she met and ultimately married a mutual friend. Isn’t that the way it usually goes? I made a mental note to contact her when the demo was over.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please hold on to the handrails for the duration of the demonstration as a safety precaution. What you are about to experience is a giant leap forward in technology, and a newly opened door to deep space exploration. Medically speaking, prolonged exposure to zero or micro gravity is a debilitating process. Gravity is required to maintain good bone health and good circulation among other health concerns.”

“Called the Graviton Plate, the device has been perfected by use on Unity and now Colossus. The technical information is available on your room consoles for your review, so I won’t bore you with the details at this time.” His grin spoke volumes. This guy was genuinely friendly and at ease with both himself and others. I wanted to spend some time with him and pick his brain. Well, not literally. I was leaning toward becoming a pure vegan.

Sorry... bad joke.

As he continued his presentation, he pointed out the panel which controlled the Plate. The gravity strength could be adjusted from zero to 1-1/2 times that of Earth. Why anyone would want to weigh 50% more than normal was beyond me. But after some thought I figured it would be great for training purposes on larger planetary missions. Besides, I’m sure Dr. Benton would be able to modify the system to increase the gravity for further mission training.

He had us position our feet on the deck in preparation for the increase in gravity. As he increased the power to the generator we could feel our feet contact the floor. I started to feel a heaviness on my chest. We passed the threshold of lunar gravity and made our way toward Martian gravity. I watched as Knighton let go of the hand rail. The look on his face was a comical blend of jubilation then terror as Dr. Benton pushed the generator to Earth gravity. Poor Tim... he’d been in space for so long that he wasn’t used to much more than lunar gravity. A couple of the politicians grabbed the hand rails tighter in an effort to keep from falling to the deck. As the gravitational strength hit the max, my normally 200 pound frame was now buckling under the strain of 300 pounds.

Glancing around the deck, Dr. Benton mercifully reduced the gravitational pull back to lunar strength. It felt so close to regular gravity that I could immediately see the potential for extended deep space travel. I was ecstatic! My life was going to be one exciting ride from here on out. But something was going to need to change soon: my identity. I’d been Mason Hammond now for almost 60 years, making me close to 90. Just one more thing to contact the Council about.

After returning to my quarters I pulled out the rounder. The rounder is the official Sandrite communication device, developed shortly before the fall of the Sumerian Empire. Of course it had been modified over the centuries and kept secret from the rest of mankind. I made contact with the Council and reported my request for Moon to create a new identity for me. Bahlnoor Al Kamir, the Council’s Communications Director, commented that he was wondering how much longer I was going to wait before calling in for a new ID. I had a habit of cutting it close, sometimes too close. There was the time in the early Roman Empire when I was going by the moniker of Romulus Berridius, and was caught some 45 years after leaving Rome when a former Roman Senator saw me in southern Gaul. He knew it was me, and I knew that he knew, and he knew that I knew that he knew it was me. Needless to say, Romulus Berridius met with an unfortunate demise later that night. Of course the body was burned beyond all recognition. But the size, weight and other characteristics matched mine, so Senator Jarris believed it was me.

Thank God they didn’t have any real forensics back then.

John Smith’s Journey - Chapter 14

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Chapter 14: Frank

“Knock that crap off, Frank. Anyway, good to see you. What brings you to the frontier?”

“I’ve been sent by the Council to see if you wanted to hop the first Mars mission.” Mars! I was hoping to get my request in before the crew was actually selected. But for the Sandrite Council to initiate the contact... I was flattered.

“Oh... I dunno. It seems like such a boring trip. I mean, really... 18 months?” But I couldn’t say it with a straight face. “By the way, did you call me earlier? About 40 minutes ago? Out there?” I pointed to the lunar plain, just outside the window. Frank moved closer and lowered his voice.

“You mean a voice, who seemed sure you knew who it was?”

I looked around and whispered, “Yes. You’ve heard it, too?” Maybe I would finally find out who it was. Frank motioned me to a corner away from everyone.

“Yeah. Several Sandrite have reported hearing voices. The Council is... discretely... looking into it. We’ve all been ordered to report directly to the Council when we hear it: where we are and what is said. You haven’t mentioned this to anyone else have you?” My silence spoke loudly. “Damn... what did you say?”

“Well, Officer Schmidt was with me on the investigation, and he heard me trying to respond.” I told him that I also responded to Control with my customary smart-ass BS and only asked if anyone there called me. I didn’t give them any specifics. “I did some fancy talking to get Schmidt to drop the subject and not report it. I’m pretty confident he won’t. He’s really a pretty nice guy.”

Frank frowned. “You know those Interpol guys are trained to be likeable, but would turn in their own mothers if they could. Be careful and above all, don’t trust any of them! If it comes up again, just say something along the lines of you were distracted and thought some radio cross-talk was directed at you. I’ll see what I can find out to keep those jackals off your case. Catch you later at dinner.”

That was all well and good, but for the next few days all I could think of was Mars.

The entire fleet was still powered by chemical-based reaction engines (liquid oxygen and solid rocket boosters). But to reach the outer planets—and ultimately the stars—we would need new propulsion technology. The next step in engine development was actually resurrecting an old NASA project: ion power. Technology from that era wasn’t advanced sufficiently enough to realize the full potential of the ion engine. Since ion engines would not be practical in an Earth to moon transit, chemical-based engines would still dominate that arena. The first Mars mission would be on the new ship currently under construction outside Unity, which had been successfully towed into lunar orbit.

Colossus was over half-way completed. My life and duties in Vittorino City kept me fairly busy for the next couple of years, but the excitement of going to Mars was always there in the back of my mind whenever the job got too tedious.

Vittorino City expanded as the construction of Colossus neared completion. A second base was established at the North Pole after water was also discovered in a similar type of crater. The crater was named Armstrong Crater after the first man on the moon in 1969, Neil Armstrong. The base was named Johnson City after Commander K'neshia Johnson of the first mission of the Phoenix in 2057. And with the expansion, Interpol followed.

Lunar supplies flown up to Colossus on the Riata and Pegasus were transported to the moon on the Phoenix and Zeus. Special or oversized shipments were handled in a lunar-direct flight by the Aragon or the Vincent. These included sections of the new Mars ship along with the ion engine.

Much has been said about the ion engine. Starting slowly at first, the engine would drive the ship to speeds previously unattained by manned flight. It was similar to the old jet-engine dragsters of the late 20th century. They started slow, but the continuous thrust drove them faster and faster, limited only by the amount of road available. In the case of a Mars journey, the length of road would not be an issue. In casual discussions with some physicists I knew, they were already close to a major breakthrough even before the ion engine came online. Their goal was to have the speed to chase down a planet from behind, thereby reducing the margin of error for a planetary rendezvous. In the early days of the space race it was critical to calculate the precise location and speed of both the target and the ship. Otherwise the ship could over or undershoot the target, becoming lost in deep space. But if a ship could literally chase down and rendezvous with a planet, then true space exploration would become closer to reality.

Heady days for the gear-heads, to be sure.

I met Frank in the dining room. Tonight was a buffet of all kinds of veggies: spinach, cabbage, lettuce, tomatoes, onions... anything that could be grown hydroponically. That just means grown in water, not dirt. They haven’t mastered hydroponically growing meat, but my inside info told me that was under development. No, really! Meat plants. Genetic engineers have been working on animal/plant hybrids to eliminate the need for bringing animals on missions. If they could pull off this “Franken-plant” project, deep space missions and planetary colonies would have sufficient food supplies for untold years.

The boys in the kitchen were also looking for their next shipment of fish to supplement the vegetable protein we’d all been living on these past few months. Fish in giant tanks of water at 1/6 Earth gravity. Hopefully they would remember to keep the lids on the tanks. Otherwise it would give new meaning to “flying fish.”

Frank dug into his salad with all the gusto of a starving man. “You know, Mason, I’ve seen the stuff the food boys are working on. Genetically, they’re working on splicing the genes of bulb veggies, like onions, with animal DNA.” All I could think of was, ‘Don’t talk with your mouth full.’ But I listened intently in spite of the full-on shot of green mush.

“They’ve kept the early results from the public as some ‘plants’ had grown animal-like organs, including eyes and hearts.” The table to my left emptied as they moved out of earshot. “Mason, you wouldn’t believe it! Hearts! Without blood! Just quivering every now and then. It was disgusting!” The table to my right emptied as they, too, moved out of earshot. I pushed my plate away from me as I decided I was finished as well.

“But they’re close, Mason, they’re close! I was told maybe a year or so and we could have plants growing animal protein. Meat without the blood!” By now we were the only people left in the dining room. I hope it was due to our long conversation and not it’s content.

John Smith’s Journey - Chapter 13

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Chapter 13: Selena

Back inside the main crew quarters, I ran into another tech that I had known... you know... before. Actually we had first met in New Orleans in 1835. I was the best man at his wedding. “Francois! You old dog! When did you get in?”

“Ah, mon ami! Eet eez goood too zee yoo!” His accents never made much sense, nor were they any good. Besides, his name was really Frank... Frank Hughes. And he was from Ohio.

New Orleans had been part of the United States for only a little over three decades. Not much was known about the land west of the Mississippi, but everyone knew the wild times to be had in “Na’ wlins.” I was hanging out with Frank one night, hitting the saloons and gambling houses. I hate to admit it but I was getting bored with the whole routine. We’d walk into a saloon, be met by several dance hall girls, sit in on a game of roulette, poker or craps, lose our shirt then move on to the next. It went on for several weeks, but this night was different. We walked into the Golden Nugget with the same fanfare as always. Shyly stepping toward us you could tell she was a cute little thing; petite but not tiny. A raven-haired beauty with dark eyes and a smile that could stop a charging buffalo in its tracks. I glanced over at Frank to make another off-hand comment, as was our habit.

“Oh... My... God!” Frank was visibly smitten. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She walked by slowly, locking eyes with him. He looked at me then back at her. It wouldn’t have mattered where she was leading him, to bed or to the gallows; he was going to follow no matter where. They walked to a table in the back, where they opened a bottle of French wine and sat and talked for hours. I had to fend off several ladies while I kept tabs on Frank. By closing time, they briefly kissed then went their separate ways. As she went back upstairs, Frank and I left.

“Man, she was one hot little number, wasn’t she?” I asked. “What were you two talking about all night?”

“Larry, you’re not going to believe this, but I just met my wife.”

“Your wife? What are you talking about? She’s a dance hall girl for crying out loud! Love ‘em and leave ‘em, right? You’re scaring me, Frank.”

“No, I’m serious. We talked about almost everything except sex. She’s incredible! Well educated, ambitious and ready to get out of the business. I tell you, Larry, this is the real thing. I’m meeting her tomorrow afternoon for a late lunch.”

“Do you want me to tag along? You’re gonna need a ride home when she doesn’t show!”

“Nope. We’re gonna to get married.”

I was getting a bit unnerved by Frank’s infatuation with this trollop. “Are you so blind that you can’t see what she is? Or what she’s not? She’s not Sandrite, Frank! You know how the Council feels about mixed marriages. Stop and think!”

But he wouldn’t listen. And so after a month or so, they were married. I have to admit it was a nice wedding. She was a knockout and Frank looked pretty good, too. Of course, there were no other Sandrite invited. He knew what their reaction would be. After the ceremony they went off for a two week honeymoon to New York. As the best man, I had the job of planning the bachelor party and took the opportunity to try talking him out of the wedding; but he would have none of it.

After they got back from New York, I took Frank aside. “The Council wants me to pass along a message to you: ‘fix this immediately or we will.’ Not my words, but theirs.” He stared me down, but I just stepped back with both hands in the air. “Hey, I’m only the messenger!”

Selena came around the corner. “Hey, you two!” she drawled. “Y’all talking about little ol’ me?” I have to admit, I could see why Frank fell for her. Her smile lit up the room. But facts are facts. She wasn’t Sandrite. These types of relationships never worked out. Especially when one aged normally and the other didn’t. I knew this wouldn’t end well, but I couldn’t convince Frank.

I contacted Councilman Jaleenah Shondrahn, who offered some advice. But I simply told her Frank was hopeless. Yes. Councilman Jaleenah Shondrahn. We didn’t let political correctness get in the way in our titles. No “Councilwoman,” or “Councilperson...” ugh! (More on Jaleenah later.) It was at this point she informed me of the decision to set the “last resort” in motion. This was action taken by operatives selected by the Council to facilitate... an accident. Frank wasn’t aware of the extent of this process, but he had heard rumors. My relationship with Jaleenah opened the way for me to get some inside information on Sandrite operations. This was one bit of info I wish I didn’t have.

A couple of years after Frank got married I had moved to Chicago. Frank and Selena came to see me off at the station. As I boarded the train, I couldn’t help but think I’d never see them together again. The main reason I was leaving was because I knew what was going to happen. I had made a deal with Jaleenah that as long as I was in New Orleans, the Council would hold off on implementing the last resort. But I had to leave because it was going to happen at some point and I didn’t want to be around when it did.

Frank wrote often, keeping me apprised of his life with Selena. One of his most recent letters carried what should have been great news. Selena was pregnant! As near as they could tell, she was due in late spring. I could sense his joy at this news, but he also knew what the result would be. No human had ever successfully carried a Sandrite baby to term. In fact the latest any human had carried a Sandrite child was four months before a miscarriage. Though both races are technically human, there are enough differences to cause problems. In fact there would be a better chance of a chimpanzee carrying a human to term.

To try making history, Frank set Selena up with a Sandrite obstetrician. What happened over the next few months was nothing short of a miracle. It was March, and Selena was a little over two months away from delivery. The doctor had been providing her with special herbs and vitamins to try counteracting the effects of a Sandrite pregnancy on a human. According to Frank, Selena still didn’t know who he really was or what the Sandrite were. Then one day in mid-February, 1839, I got a letter from Frank. But it wasn’t postmarked New Orleans.

He said he left New Orleans and moved to St. Louis after Selena died. She actually carried the baby to term, but died in childbirth. The baby survived only a few days but finally succumbed to massive organ failure. He said he was heading to Chicago to see me and should be there mid-February. He had traveled almost as fast as his letter, which was quite a feat in those days. The next day Frank appeared on my doorstep. He looked worn and exhausted.

“Hey, Larry... how’ve you been?”

“You look like hell, Frank. I got your letter yesterday and I am so sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine how you must feel. Aw, hell... come on in, man. Take a load off and fill me in.”

Frank walked in and slumped into a chair. He told me about the last few months of Selena’s life and how the Council had contacted him directly. His plea to them apparently had an effect as they called off the “last resort.” They even assisted, indirectly, in keeping the pregnancy viable. Since she had carried a Sandrite child that far, they were curious to see what the outcome would be. Oh, they pulled out all the stops... medically speaking. Drugs, herbals and vitamins that wouldn’t be introduced to mankind for nearly sixty years were used. They almost pulled it off, but the genetic mismatch was too great to overcome. The Sandrite medical staff had taken the baby’s body for study since Frank was too grieved to decide what to do.

We hung out for a few weeks making the rounds at the local public houses. But it just wasn’t the same. He was looking for another Selena, and that just wasn’t going to happen. Soon afterward he left Chicago for parts unknown, until we met again on Unity.

John Smith’s Journey - Chapter 12

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Chapter 12: To The Moon, Mason!

My work in oncology bore significant fruit as cancer detection techniques improved and several of my research projects resulted in effective cancer vaccines. Again, I was careful to do the work in a large team setting so as to not draw undue attention to myself. In fact, I was able to pass the credit on to Dr. Malcolm Fischer as the primary researcher by some fairly secretive after hours work on his behalf. Hey, the work got done, I was still by most measurements anonymous and I was still in space. However, the moon was in line for colonization and I wanted to be part of it, so I made my transfer request to SEC. My contact intercepted the request and forwarded it to people who would approve it without question.

It had been six relatively uneventful years since the station was initially fired into full rotation. The overall balance of Unity was such that its orbit had not deviated by a significant amount, even though there had been three minor firings of the boosters to maintain its centrifugal gravity. Actually, uneventful is probably an understatement. OK... a big understatement. We were now back on the moon! I signed up as medical officer on my old ship, the Phoenix, guaranteeing a trip to the moon and Vittorino City.

During those six years two more shuttles had been added to the fleet: the Aragon and the Vincent. Both were third-generation shuttles, not much larger than either Riata or Pegasus. The major difference was the payload capacity. Pure research had been a major assignment of the shuttle fleet for generations, but due to Unity Station the shuttles were finally deployed for their original purpose: a dependable space truck.

The key element that all life needs to survive is water. Due to its weight, it’s prohibitively expensive to send with crews into space. That’s why space missions were required to be either short or in low Earth orbit to allow frequent resupply. Or recycle used water, which I won’t expound upon for reasons that shall remain unstated. But in 2010 water was discovered in massive amounts near the lunar South Pole in Shackleton Crater. Due to the location of the water deposits the first lunar base (named Vittorino City after the first World Commissioner) was established there. Since lunar rock is almost identical to Earth rock, initial lunar dwellings were made from existing caves; or more accurately, ancient lava tubes. Think of an old-style ant farm... with airlocks. They also had a secured landing zone, living quarters, a science lab building and most importantly, a hydroponics center. Regular supply shipments were welcomed by the 40 inhabitants of the city, especially since oranges and apples couldn’t be grown hydroponically... yet.

Seismic tests were normally able to detect faulty cave walls so they could be avoided. However as in any exploration effort, these missions were not without risk. During the first six months on the lunar surface a cave wall ruptured with a worker inside. He had completed sealing the last room and stopped to take a break while the quarters pressurized. After the room reached full pressure he removed his helmet to admire his work. A small, undetected fissure in the next room suddenly gave way. My first trip to the moon, as lead medical tech, was to investigate the accident and file a report. Also tagging along was Interpol Officer Lew Schmidt.

I guided Officer Schmidt through the process. He was genuinely grateful for my attitude and helpfulness. He almost single-handedly changed my outlook on Interpol as an organization. In fact, other than Donner’s gunning down that group all those years ago, I had not run into any real jack-asses.

“OK,” I began. “The first thing we have to do is identify the body as best we can before a full autopsy and DNA workup. Though there is significant body damage, most of the body is still in the suit. Records indicate the worker’s name was...” I thumbed through the work orders to find his name. “Ah... here it is. Geology Tech Rahmel Brown. The name on his suit matches, so until the forensic exam we have to go with that.” Schmidt looked like he was ready to puke. I guess he’d never seen a rapid decompression death.

“Dr. Hammond, can I wait outside for a few moments?”

“Sure. Take your time and come back when you’re ready.”

It was about a half hour before he came back in the room. By then the techs had almost completely removed Brown’s remains from the room. There were a few pieces of skull and brain matter, but the clean up crews could handle that. We left the cave system after our investigation and cleared the crew to begin repairs. Living quarters were too scarce to abandon if salvage was at all possible. Amongst all the pointless chatter normally on my headset, I heard a distinct, “Hey, Mason!” I looked around to see who it was. It definitely wasn’t Schmidt as the voice was distinctly female.

“Mason!”

“This is Hammond... over. Please identify.” Schmidt looked at me quizzically.

“What? Who are you talking to?” he asked.

“Oh come on, Mason! You know who this is!” I was stumped. I couldn’t see anyone other than Schmidt, and with only radio contact I couldn’t tell which direction it was coming from.

“This is Hammond... over. Please identify.” No response, but where was it coming from? Someone was playing with me and I was going to find out who. Schmidt interrupted me again.

“Who are you talking to? I don’t hear anyone.”

I ignored him. Then I heard another voice, definitely not female. “Vittorino Control to MedTech Hammond... over”

“Hammond to Vittorino Control ... over.”

“Telemetry shows you’re on your last hour of O2. You know the rules, Mason. You and Schmidt get your asses back inside.” Yeah, I knew. Never be longer than a one hour walk from Vittorino with less than two hours of oxygen. Aw, hell... we were only 10 minutes away. But like I had just seen in the new caves, you never know what to expect, other than the unexpected. “Hammond to Vittorino Control ... over.”

“Vittorino Control ... Go ahead, Hammond.”

“Before your gracious invitation to come back inside, did anyone there call me? over” I can be such a jerk.

“Negative, Mason. Lines were clear. No transmission originated from here, other than ‘Get your asses back inside.’ By the way, why aren’t you guys back yet? over.”

Was it a hallucination? With an extended space presence, potential medical issues were not overlooked. I knew my question could easily result in a full physical... with psych exam.

Great. I didn’t have time for that crap. After returning to base, I talked with Lew in the locker room. “You didn’t hear anything, huh?” He had just stepped out of the shower and was drying his hair.

“Exactly what did you hear out there? You know I have to report this. We can’t have cases of space dementia up here. Too many lives at stake.”

I paused, trying to think of what I could say to persuade him to drop it. “I must have heard the cross-talk and thought it was someone trying to cut in. It’s been a long day for me. Way too long. The doc told me I needed to cut back on my workload. I guess it’s finally getting to the point where I probably should listen.” Lew thought for a minute.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ve seen your group working pretty hard lately. I’ll overlook this little incident. Is that OK with you?” I counted to 10 before jumping at this opportunity. I nodded casually in agreement, so I didn’t seem too anxious.

Plans had been developed for a second generation space station to be called Colossus. Colossus would replace Unity as the way station between Earth and the moon. Unity was now almost 100 years old, a most unusual age for any kind of craft. But with the consistent upgrades and maintenance during that time, it had become the logical solution for an orbiting lunar station. SEC determined that Unity would be towed into lunar orbit. Decades earlier on Earth, there were dwellings called “mobile homes.” Didn’t like where you lived? Put wheels on it and tow it to a better location. So to save time and money, make Unity a mobile home.

Made sense to me.

John Smith’s Journey - Chapter 11

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Chapter 11: Spinning It Up

Wingfield eased Riata the final several feet to the docking port. As the ship made contact, there was the audible “bang” followed by the click of the docking latches as they secured the shuttle. The docking port on the station was placed in the middle of the central hub to minimize the effects of the artificial gravity soon to be provided by the future rotation of the station. After going over the shut down checklist, Wingfield and her crew transferred to Unity to rest up before installing the rotational engines. Unity was now permanently manned by a crew from almost every Zone, a total of about 350, including Interpol personnel. As the airlock pressurized to internal levels and the door opened, Wingfield couldn't help but chuckle to herself as the smell of the interior hit her nose. Even with the air scrubbers and purifiers, it still smelled like a locker room. It took some time, but you got used to it.

The first person to greet Wingfield was Dr. Lemmon. After her husband passed away two years earlier, she applied for and received the full-time Chief Medical Officer position on-board Unity. I followed behind Dr. Lemmon as she floated toward the airlock. After exchanging a few pleasantries I asked Tricia if she had run into any of the old Phoenix crew. I told her that Tim Knighton was now the lead technician in charge of the station's external robotic worker program and Fred Taylor was on the computer maintenance crew. Dr. Lemmon suggested we all get together for dinner that night.

We all gathered in the mess hall for dinner. There were some items on the menu that I haven’t had in ages: Beef! The hydroponic plants were OK, but I really missed having steak.

Tricia filled us all in on her progress from the shy co-pilot of the Phoenix to the confident commander of the Riata. Commander Johnson had taken her under her wing for several years, before her untimely death in the airlock. “I owe my entire career to K’neshia. She saw potential in me that I didn’t know I had in myself. In fact, I remember one specific moment when she put me in charge of the second Phoenix mission to Unity. She voluntarily stepped aside and took the co-pilot’s seat to make me lead the team. On the way out she had programmed a ‘minor emergency’ into the nav computer. We were halfway to Unity when the guidance subsystem failed forcing us into a manual flight mode.”

Knighton jumped in. “That was her? Damn! I almost had to change my underwear when the warning siren went off. I’d only experienced it in simulations, but on that flight I had no idea. Damn!” He just sat there shaking his head with a grin.

Wingfield glanced over at him for a second. “As I was saying, I was now in manual flight mode. I looked over at K’neshia, who later told me she thought my eyes were going to literally pop out of my head. She looked at me and said, ‘Remember your training. You scored highly on this portion of the test. Trust your skills.’ After a few deep breaths, I took the helm and went through the checklist in my head. About halfway through, it dawned on me what the problem was. I made the adjustment, rebooted the nav computer and was able to get us back on course. Later that night she told me what she had done. At first I want to strangle her. That’s when it hit me. She said, ‘That’s right! Now you get it. You should look in the mirror right now! There’s one angry bitch ready to throttle me, isn’t there?’ And she was right. That moment was when I realized I had it in me to lead. All I needed was to get that little kick in the butt.”

She took another sip of her drink while Knighton looked perplexed. “You were the one who pulled it out and not Johnson? All this time I thought she jumped in and saved the day.” The glare from Tricia was such a withering stare that Knighton could only offer, “Can I buy you another drink?”

That was the best part of the whole get-together: seeing that chauvinistic ass eat crow.

I took another sip of my drink. “I have to admit, I had a serious crush on her. She was stern, but fair. God, I miss that woman.”

Taylor immediately jumped in. “You didn’t know?”

“What didn’t I know?”

“That she liked you, too! And not just a little. I had a few conversations with her where she was able to work in more than a favorable comment or two about you. If she had survived I think you two would have hooked up by now. Geez, Mason... I really thought you knew. Sorry, man.”

I didn’t think I could have felt any worse, knowing she had died. Thanks to Taylor, now I did.

Dr. Lemmon put her hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry, Mason.” The evening wound down pretty fast after that.

The next day, Knighton led a crew of five, in addition to four robotic workers, to deploy and attach the booster engines to the station. By now Unity had grown to a half-mile in diameter with an outer ring ready for occupancy as soon as the engines were fired, sufficient rotation achieved and safety checks passed. Knighton and his crew passed through the airlock and boarded the small, personnel shuttle dubbed “The Mule.” The Mule is a small, open platform vehicle that isn't much more than a glorified, oversized jet-pack containing the four humanoid robots. The robots were only humanoid from the waist up, connected to the Mule by way of a robot arm similar to the one used on the shuttles. They were padded all over so that any tools they handled wouldn’t be nicked by metal-on-metal use, potentially causing a rip in an EVA suit. If you had seen any of the old Star Wars movies you would recognize the helmeted robonauts as the bounty hunter, Boba Fett. Purely coincidental, but actually kinda cool!

Reaching the site for the first engine, Knighton and his crew had it installed in only an hour then moved on to the next. After installing the first three engines, they took a break for lunch then headed out to finish the other three. Finally all six engines were in place and connected to the station's fuel supply. The critical part of the process was coming up the next day, as each engine had to fire at precisely the same moment and exactly for the same duration. Anything less could push the station out of its location and send it spinning out of control. After breakfast, final checks were run on the engines and control connections. Each member of the station was then ordered to get into their survival suits and gather in the center of the station in preparation for the engine firing. Station security made their final sweep of the outer ring and gave the all clear.

I felt a tingle running up my spine as I climbed into my survival suit. Soon we would be experiencing real gravity for the first time; for some, in two years.

I ran into Taylor in the inner locker room. “Man,” he started, “I am so sorry about the other night. I honestly didn’t know that... you didn’t know.”

“Hey, not a problem. If I wasn’t so naive, I would have sensed it sooner and done something about it. But I have to admit, I almost couldn’t breathe whenever I was around her. I’ve known lots of women...” I stopped myself. Most people around me thought I was in my late thirties, which wasn’t old enough to have known lots of women. I think I almost blew it right there.

“How many is lots? And no, you can’t go back to elementary school!” I took the opportunity to laugh it off. Man was that close!

Station Chief Jose Canberra verified the location of each crew member, verified the Riata had undocked and was at a safe distance to observe then began the countdown to engine ignition. As crew members held their breath the countdown reached zero. Everyone could feel the engines rumble as the station slowly began to rotate. At the three minute mark, the engines cut out flawlessly as scheduled. Rotation was measured at only one foot per second slower than projected, yet it was able to generate centrifugal force at the rim nearly equivalent to that of normal Earth gravity.

The all clear was given after Taylor and his crews made the rounds checking the hatches and modular joints for damage from the rotational start-up. As we began moving toward the outer rim we could feel our weight increase. Like I said before, some were on the station for over two years. Most of these were quick to move back to a section where the gravity was less so they could begin a more reasonable acclimation process to the new reality of gravity. Needless to say, Dr. Lemmon began to strictly enforce dietary regulations beginning with exercise and eliminating the chocolate pudding.

Damn, I miss my pudding.

John Smith’s Journey - Chapter 10

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Chapter 10: A Death In The Family

Beyond the possibility of, oh let’s say... death, one of the most insidious and easily dismissed negatives associated with space travel is long-term exposure to zero gravity. Several studies found that an astronauts' bone strength dipped by at least 14 percent during a half-year stay in space. Other research indicated that an astronaut's bone mineral density could decrease by between 0.4 percent and 1.8 percent each month they remained in zero-gravity, leading to greater risks of fractures and osteoporosis later in life. Past efforts to simulate gravity were limited to exercising on a stationary bike while strapped to the hull or running on a treadmill while held down by bungee cords.

While there is no complete fix for this problem, astronauts are diligent about bone-strengthening exercises while they're on the station and undergo extensive rehabilitation once they're back on the ground to try to avoid possessing the bones of a 90-year-old. And yes, it even affects Sandrites. Not as quickly but it definitely affects us, hence the need for rotational gravity on the station.

Making her eighth trip to Unity since that initial mission seven years earlier, Commander Tricia Wingfield confidently guided the massive ship, Riata, toward Unity’s airlock as Lieutenant Commander Gail Stephens called out speed and distance. Lieutenant Commander Stephens was the niece of Wingfield's original Commander, K'neshia Johnson, who herself had made five flights before perishing in an airlock failure four years earlier. Her death was a tough pill to swallow.

K'neshia was in the main airlock of Unity with two of her crew when she noticed the pressure gauge drop abnormally. Experience told her to clear the airlock immediately before the seal failed. As she pushed the last crewman through the inner door she quickly closed and locked it, sealing her own fate. Her quick actions were recognized by World Commissioner Roger Wellington from Auckland, Zone 12, as “heroic” and “an example of the highest order of sacrifice” because “by acting swiftly and selflessly she saved the lives of the other 13 members of her crew, in addition to many others on-board Unity Station.”

Commander Johnson was piloting the Zeus on approach to Unity carrying a cargo of food and medical supplies. Also on board was a contingent of scientists to meet with Dr. Simon Peters to learn about his zero-gravity research in alloy development. Some interesting breakthroughs had been made in the area of lightweight alloys for spaceship construction: lighter than aluminum, stronger than carbonized steel.

I spoke earlier with the Zeus’ science officer, Jorge Carrabbas, to go over some of their itinerary. First they would meet with Dr. Peters, then take a tour of the lab and see the process. I had made arrangements to have dinner that night with K’neshia. We weren’t a couple, but that was one of the things on my wish list.

“Unity Station to Zeus... Unity Station to Zeus. This is Dr. Hammond to Commander Johnson. K’neshia, are you there?”

“Zeus to Unity Station, this is Commander Johnson. Mason, glad to hear your voice! I should be disembarking in about an hour. I have to supervise the off-loading of the cargo, then freshen up a bit and meet you in the mess hall. Sound like a plan?”

“Sure thing, Commander! I’ll have the table all set and the wine packets chilled. See you in about 90!”

The off-loading went smoothly with everything being loaded into the cargo bay. K’neshia was in the last group of three to leave the ship through the common airlock, as was the tradition. The Commander was always the last to leave the ship, traditionally to make sure the crew was safely ashore.

Once the next-to-last group was safely on board Unity, K’neshia, Specialist Harvey Knutson and Specialist Wilma Rockwell were in the airlock. After the pressure equalized, K’neshia noticed the pressure gauge fluctuate. The external side door seal was about to fail, and she knew it. As the pressure suddenly dropped, she pushed Knutson and Rockwell through the internal airlock door and slammed it shut. Once the pressure dropped a certain amount, the door’s safety locks automatically engaged. The emergency siren screamed and several techs scrambled toward the main airlock. Pushing off of the wall, I rocketed through the hallway in pursuit.

Two techs were already suited up and in the auxiliary airlock. I looked for K’neshia, but could only find Knutson and Rockwell. I panicked. Grabbing Knutson, I screamed, “Where’s K’neshia? WHERE’S K’NESHIA?” Knutson’s eyes were welling up as he shook his head and pointed toward the airlock. Rockwell was in shock.

“Before we could realize what was happening, she pushed us through the door and slammed it shut behind us. She shoved us so hard we bounced off the opposite wall. As we turned, we saw her floating motionless in the airlock.” Wilma went silent.

I spun around, quickly grabbing handholds until I reached the door. When I looked through the window I could see the techs gently taking K’neshia out and through the auxiliary airlock. Her helmet was off, and there was no doubt, she was gone. Why did they have their helmets off? Protocol was that everyone was to keep their helmets on until entering the station. But over the years, people had become lax in following that rule, and now it cost a life. Not just any life... a very special life.

Everyone was devastated as death in space was not common. Normalcy on the station came to a halt as the investigation was conducted. It was determined that it was the result of the failure of an aging seal on the external side door. That specific door was only there as an emergency exit in the event of either the station airlock door or the ship’s airlock door failed. The occupants could exit through that door and enter the station through the auxiliary airlock. Because it was never used, it gradually became overlooked in the regular maintenance sweeps.

Eventually all that came from it was a determination of an unfortunate, though tragically preventable, accident. Subsequent inspections of the other two emergency airlock doors showed imminent failure as well. Needless to say they were immediately repaired, but it was too late. Like the old saying goes, they had closed the barn doors after the horses had run away. K’neshia was gone and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Even though it was four years ago, it still hurt.

John Smith’s Journey - Chapter 9

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Chapter 9: Remembrances

After moving in to the station, Taylor was reviewing Sarah’s work on the systems, when he found some data in a back-up memory unit. To see what it was, he restored it to the main system. It turned out to be video of the day-to-day activities on the station before the Russians and Chinese left.

“Hey, guys! Come on into the command mod and see what I’ve found!” We all gathered in the command module to see what Taylor discovered. He hit the play button, and the video began. There were scenes of tests being conducted, interviews with Earth-based media outlets, some lighter moments including a space volleyball game. Since there was no gravity to let the ball arc back to the ground after crossing the net, it became more of a space handball game.

As the ball bounced off the walls, Taylor whispered to K’neshia, “Where did they get a ball?”

As the time frame of the video moved forward you could tell there was a definite increase in tension. It coincided with the tensions between their respective countries. Once word came to the station that the Americans had invaded Iran, you could sense a cooling of relationships between the American astronauts and their Russian and Chinese counterparts. The video feed ended with the Russian commander, Gusarov, and his final words to Malone: “I hope our countries can work this out. Dasvidania.”

We floated for a while as we tried to make sense of it all. Wingfield broke the silence.

“I never understood the concept of forgiveness. After hearing Gusarov’s last comment, I think I’ll never buy into it.” With that, she quickly left the command mod. We could hear her crying down the hall.

After our two day stay to shutdown the station, we had some downtime before prepping for reentry. I wondered, why did man venture into space? What drove man to sail the seas and ultimately the heavens? Was the loss of the crew of Apollo 1 worth it? Did the crews of the Challenger and the Columbia die in vain? No, I thought to myself. People were going to die in the course of exploration, whether it was exploring the unknown on our own home planet or exploring the worlds that existed “out there.”

Did the crew of the ISS perish needlessly? Only in the sense that they were sacrificed during the most tumultuous time in the history of the Earth. They knew the risks and accepted them in the name of exploration and discovery. Explorers had died before and would die again. But there was always a belief that potential benefits derived from the discovery of new worlds will always outweigh the risks. And I was about to become part of that adventure.

With the change in the world’s situation, the decision was made to rename the International Space Station to “Unity Station.” This was to exemplify the bond that all of Earth had with the ever expanding exploration of space as a united Earth, not just a few countries. Space Exploration Command submitted the proposal to the World Commission, which was approved with a unanimous vote.

In order to commemorate the three fallen American astronauts the main command module was re-named in honor of Commander Pete Malone, the main science module in memory of Lieutenant Commander Sonia Riley and the new recreation module after Mission Specialist Thomas “Tommy” Madill. In attendance at the dedication ceremony were Commander Malone’s children: Pete Jr., Callie and Donnie, all now in their 60’s. Also in attendance was Sonia Riley’s husband, Chris, now 88 years old (and never remarried).

I was now stationed on Unity as the Chief Medical Researcher for zero-gravity work in oncology. I finished my doctorate during the seven years between the initial flight of Phoenix and the re-dedication of Space Station Unity. I met with each of the guests to express my condolences, and to thank them for coming. The Malone “kids” enjoyed their time in weightlessness, while Mr. Riley stayed in the science module staring at and caressing Sonia’s picture on her dedication plaque. It was a depressing sight, but he was smiling. He kissed her image before leaving for the flight home. He turned to shake my hand before boarding the ship.

“Dr. Hammond, thank you for your time. You know, I’ll see her again. I believe, and so did Sonia, that just as the French have many ways of saying goodbye—none of which are permanent—I was telling her goodbye and see you soon. If you have a moment I can explain what I mean.”

“No, that’s OK. Thank you all the same, but I have a lot of work to finish before the Riata arrives.” I wasn’t much on religious stuff, but I wanted to be polite. I did have a lot to get done. All of them waved as the airlock to the ship closed. I turned and headed back to Module Riley.

One other group had also made the move into space was Interpol. The world had eliminated national armies and replaced them with what had evolved into a global, paramilitary organization. Interpol started out as a loosely confederated police force with limited powers internationally. But with the onset of global unification under Paulo Vitterino, it expanded into a multifaceted organization to include Basic Law Enforcement, First Contact Strike Force and Infiltration/Covert Operations; and Unity Station had a detachment of each.

At times it was unnerving to see these officers, especially the black-shirted Covert Ops group. Secretive and seemingly aloof, they left you looking over your shoulder. Personally I think the World Commission had given them too much power and too much authority too quickly. As I had mentioned earlier, one trigger-happy bastard took out an entire group of dissidents as I was working to facilitate their peaceful surrender. Trust with the entire organization was a major issue for me. There were very few Sandrite in Interpol. In fact there were so few that the Council had put out the word volunteers would receive special privileges if they signed on. However the tactics taught and employed turned many of us off. It wasn’t a case of corruption. They were, on the whole, a very loyal and enthusiastic group. But the mentality that was encouraged left many more reasonable individuals cold.

Phoenix and her sister ships, Zeus, Riata and Pegasus had been making flights to Unity every other month for the past seven years. Riata and Pegasus were second-generation shuttles, 25% larger than Phoenix with more payload capacity. Zeus was a copy of Phoenix and the second shuttle built. Each time a flight completed its mission it would tow the station closer to “the sweet spot;” the place between the Earth and the Moon where the gravity is equalized. The intention was to create a way-station between Earth and the Moon with the streamlined vessels making the Earth to Unity journey, and a more functional fleet to make the Unity to Moon flight. This had finally been accomplished by the end of 2083.

During that time Unity had been re-designed to take advantage of its original configuration yet be more symmetrical. The symmetry was for the time when the station would be fired into a slow rotation to simulate gravity at the outer edges.