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Authors: Stuart Clark

Project U.L.F. (8 page)

BOOK: Project U.L.F.
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CHAPTER

4

 

 

 

 

Wyatt walked across the pad towards the shuttle. The wind gusted and cut through him in icy blasts. At the top of the shuttle stairway a young girl in uniform desperately clung to her hat. It seemed ridiculously small for her head and fought against the band of elastic which ran under her chin but even with this annoyance there was no threat that her smile would be blown away as easily as her hat might be.

Given the conditions there was little to smile about, but she turned it on him and he returned it and gave her a curt nod as he passed her and stepped into the relative shelter of the shuttle.

He dumped his bag, the only belongings he had with him, into the rack above his seat. He ran through everything he’d done before leaving his apartment. It was all taken care of. He lowered himself into his seat and took a deep breath. It was time to focus on the task ahead.

The shuttle’s door closed with a thud, shutting out the wind that howled outside. A flight attendant’s voice came through the speakers that lay on either side of his headrest.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is the twenty-three fifteen shuttle flight to the moon-base. Take off will be in approximately five minutes and we request that all passengers be seated at this time. We will be breaking Earth’s gravitational field one hour after liftoff over the mid-Atlantic and then proceeding directly to the moon. Total flight time is estimated to be eleven hours with an arrival time of approximately 10:15 AM standard earth time. We thank you for traveling with Orbit shuttle services and hope you enjoy the flight.”

A few minutes later there was a hum as the engines roared to life. The pads at Wyatt’s sides pressed against him, matching the contours of his body, holding him with a firm but not uncomfortable grip. The shuttle’s turbines fired and the craft lifted off the pad, lurching violently in the strong winds. Wyatt was grateful that he had not eaten anything since lunchtime.

Shortly into the flight the hostess who had welcomed him aboard approached him, “Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee? A soft drink, or something alcoholic perhaps?”

“Do you have any beer?”

“Certainly, sir, any particular brand?”

“Oh, whatever, I’ll leave the choice to you.”

“We have the latest beer on the market, launched only two months ago, brewed with genetically engineered yeast for a sharper taste.”

“That’ll do just fine,” he said giving her a long, hard look.

The shuttle bucked slightly and he let out a groan.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I just don’t fly well.”

“But Mister Dorren, it says on your boarding chip that you are going on an expedition from the moon-base. Surely that will involve far more flying.”

“Yeah, but the only bumps and turbulence you get in space are if you hit an asteroid or get sucked into a black hole, and that tends to only happen once.”

“Oh, I see,” she said. She continued to smile but had completely missed his sarcasm. There was not the faintest twinkle of amusement in her eyes. To her, he was another paying customer and this was another conversation, another day at work. He looked at her and she back at him, and there they were, two people, face-to-face, same species, different worlds.

The beer was indeed good, a sharp taste as she’d said. On his empty stomach it had gone straight to his head. He was already tired and the alcohol was making him dozy. It was time for some shut-eye. He made himself comfortable and within minutes he was asleep.

 

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Kate looked at the bag on her sofa. It would be all she would take with her on the expedition. It was a huge plain black canvas bag and all it contained was clothes. T-shirts, jackets, pants, shorts, and boots. All standard issue for a U.L.F. team member. Next to the bag was a black satin jacket with PROJECT U.L.F. printed across the back in silver. This was not a standard-issue garment, but Alan had “acquired” it for her as a memento of this trip. That would go into storage along with her rucksack to wait for her return.

She checked her watch. It was time to start moving; she was supposed to be meeting him outside the control dome in a quarter of an hour.

 

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Wyatt was brought around by a gentle shaking of his arm. The hostess’ face slowly came into focus in front of him.

“Breakfast, Mister Dorren.”

“Wha…? Really? What time is it?”

“Nine o’clock standard earth time. We’ve made good time and should be arriving at the moon-base twenty minutes earlier than originally expected.”

“Oh…good,” Wyatt said. It was the only response that seemed appropriate.

 

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Alan was already waiting for Kate when she arrived.

“Am I late?” she asked.

“No, I’m early,” he smirked. “Bad habit of mine. Are you ready to go in?”

“Yeah, sure”

“I have to ask that you touch nothing and disturb no one. The jobs these people do here require a lot of concentration. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t distract them from their work.

“That’s fine, I understand.”

Alan turned and punched in an access code on the keypad on the wall. The door slid away.

The first thing Kate saw was the stars. The cosmic panorama was breathtaking. Complete and uninterrupted. There was no cloud, just inky blackness in which the stars shone brilliantly, winking gleefully. She caught her breath in her throat.

Alan stepped through the door and beckoned her to follow him. As she stepped through into the control dome she could see all the personnel that were hidden from her previous vantage point. There were hundreds of them, some rushing around frantically, others sitting in front of monitors watching arms swing lazily around scopes. All of them occupying a place in one of dozens of rows arranged in tiers. Each totally focused on their individual task. The whole room was covered by a hemisphere of some transparent material through which the stars and the lunar landscape could be viewed.

Alan began to descend the nearest flight of stairs, which cut down along the left side of room. Kate followed. About a third of the way down, a man located in the center of the nearest row motioned for them to join him. They made their way across to the stranger, behind numerous computer screens, some displaying lines and lines of computer code, others intermittently flashing data, none of which Kate could comprehend.

“Hello, Alan,” said the other man, “You’ve timed this just right, we have a shuttle coming in early.” He turned to Kate, “You must be Miss Frere,” he said, offering his hand.

“That’s right,”

“Hi, I’m David Winsford and this is my office,” he opened his arms wide to indicate the whole room and smiled at his own humor. “We deal mainly with the smaller craft in this control room, that’s why this dome looks out over the surface of the moon. It means we can watch their approach as well as monitor them on computer.”

“It doesn’t look that busy to warrant all these people,” Kate said.

David snorted in amusement of her ignorance. “We monitor all incoming and outgoing craft to a range of two hundred and fifty thousand kilometers.” He looked down at his display, a kaleidoscope of colored flashing lights. “We’re currently tracking one hundred and sixty-four craft. Some are just passing within our range but many of them will land or have taken off from here.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize…”

“No…well. Anyway, we have a shuttle coming in right now. Keep an eye out and you might spot it, it’s coming in from over there,” he said, indicating the general direction.

All three of them stood in silence for a few minutes, looking for the shuttle.

“Ah, there it is,” David pointed it out to the others. It appeared tiny, a small gray form speeding across the black backdrop and then it turned and dropped below the lunar horizon, disappearing from view as it blended in with the gray of the moon’s surface. Kate squinted, trying to pinpoint the craft and then she thought she saw something move. It was a dark, undefined shape leaping across the uneven surface skittishly—the shuttle’s shadow. She rapidly relocated the shuttle with her eyes as it glided smoothly towards them, a lot closer than she’d expected. As it approached even closer it banked again and the sun caught on its fuselage, a dazzling burst of light. It was as if the ship had winked at them, an old friend who had been here countless times before and knew that it would be back again sometime. It disappeared out of view to their left and headed off towards the landing bays.

 

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As Wyatt left the shuttle he stopped briefly at the top of the gangplank and looked around the bay. “It’s been a while,” he said to no one in particular. Walking down the ramp, he casually slung his bag over his shoulder. Just as he reached the bottom a voice from behind him said, “Well if it isn’t our own modern-day Columbus.”

Wyatt recognized the voice. He turned and was face-to-face with Robert Eller, Mannheim’s man on the moon-base. He smiled at Robert’s attempt at a joke, if that’s what it was.

“Hello, Bob,” he said and instantly saw a fire flare in Robert’s eyes. He chuckled. The bastardization of Robert’s name never failed to get a reaction. He looked Robert up and down and smoothed one of the other man’s lapels with the back of his hand, “Nice suit,” he said and turned to walk out of the bay.

 

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Wyatt stifled a yawn as Robert went through yet more details of the expedition. He’d been in this room practically all day since stepping off the shuttle, listening to Robert drone on and on about the mission. About the procedures they would have to go through on their return. About the celebrations that would be going on at the IZP and about the timing of their arrival.

He’d had a brief respite when he’d been allowed to go and get something to eat, but even then Robert had accompanied him to the restaurant and he’d been forced to make small talk to pass the time.

“…And that’s about it,” Robert said from the front of the room. The lights in the room slowly came up, the information projected on the wall fading from view. Wyatt lifted his head off his hand and checked his watch. Five-thirty.

“Any questions?”

“No, I think you covered everything most adequately, Robert.” Sarcasm laced the words. “You’re assuming I’m going to remember all of this after two periods of cryosleep and four months away.”

Robert shot him a look of contempt, “Right, then, if that is all, it’s time you went to the prep-room for your stasis jab.”

 

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BOOK: Project U.L.F.
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