Below Mercury (11 page)

Bergman, on Matt’s right, was thinking of his family, and mostly of his young son. He could imagine him now, his face glued to the rain-covered window of the rented Toyota, watching the huge bulk of the spaceplane on the fuelling apron. Bergman’s mouth curved upwards in a smile. How Simon would have loved to come with him on this trip. It didn’t matter that his father was travelling to an abandoned tomb in a dark crater floor tens of millions of kilometres away, to find goodness knows what; all his son cared about was that his Dad was going on a spacecraft, up and out amongst the stars.

Behind Bergman, Abrams sat back into his seat. His neck ached from craning into the narrow aisle to see up front. He suddenly felt tired, and he closed his eyes and took a long, slow breath. He had been luckier than most in his position; he had never had to go on the long voyage out to Jupiter, and had enjoyed most of his trips into space, but as he sat there with the seat straps pressing into his shoulders, waiting for the engines to start, Abrams wondered if this had better be his last trip.

Elliott was watching the proceedings on the flight deck intently. This was his second time in space, and the experience was fascinating to him. He watched every motion of Clare and Wilson’s hands as they checked the positions of switches and the settings of the flying controls.

‘You guys okay back there?’ Clare’s voice came abruptly over the intercom, and she turned her head to the right. She could just see Bergman out of the edge of her helmet.

‘Fine,’ and ‘Okay here,’ came back from Abrams and Elliott in the rear seats. Bergman raised his hand and smiled back at her.

‘How about you, Matt? We’re about to start engines. You okay?’ Matt could see Clare’s eyes reflected in the glass of her head-up display, looking back at him.

‘All fine here,’ Matt said, wishing that he felt as confident as he sounded.

‘Not long to go now. We’re just waiting for ground control to tell us we can start up, and then we’ll get going. While we’re waiting, can I remind you all of the emergency procedure: if there’s any problem during the taxi, I will stop the aircraft and direct you to evacuate. Release your seat straps and get to the main door at the rear of the cabin. The escape slide will inflate automatically once the door is opened. Once you’re down the slide, get as far away from the aircraft as you can.

‘When we’re ready for takeoff, I’ll arm the ejection seats; if there’s an emergency I will fire them if we need to eject, or they will fire automatically if we go too far outside our safe flight envelope. Remember the ejection drill – faceplate down, and keep your head well back.

‘Anyone got any questions, or concerns?’

Nobody spoke; they were all reading the escape instructions again.

‘Okay, I’ll take that as a no. Sit back and enjoy the ride.’ Clare permitted herself a faint smile.

‘Clear to start engines, captain,’ Wilson said, and moved his seat forward a notch. He reached up and put his hand on the engine start selectors, and looked expectantly at Clare. She craned out of the windows, scanning the surrounding area for any ground traffic. Satisfied that all other vehicles were clear, she nodded to Wilson.

‘Okay. Startup sequence.’

Wilson pulled the start selector for the number one engine. The noise of the ground power truck outside increased as it poured power into the starting circuits, and the leftmost engine started to turn. Clare reached across and moved the fuel control lever to RUN, and the rising whine of the compressors gave way gradually to a distant, muffled roar.

‘EGT and oil pressure rising,’ Wilson confirmed, ‘ready to start number two.’

‘Start two.’

Behind the spaceplane, the falling rain swirled around in the river of hot exhaust as the number two engine came to life, and added its increasing roar to the first. The spaceplane stirred slightly on its landing gear, its brakes holding the craft in place.

‘Starting three.’

The sheets of water on the fuelling apron rippled as waves of hot gas swept across the surface, driving the water towards the surface drains. The third, then fourth engines spun up and joined the others, until four turbojets roared in the damp air.

Below the spaceplane’s nose, the ground dispatcher exchanged a last few words with the flight crew on the intercom, before disconnecting the ground power cable and stowing it back on the power truck. He slammed the cable locker shut and looked up at the cockpit windows, high above his head. The rain pelted down on his yellow waterproof overalls and ran into his face as he snapped off a salute.

Inside the cockpit, Clare returned the salute, and watched as the dispatcher ran for the truck’s cabin, and shelter from the rain. Moments later, the power truck pulled away and disappeared into the curtains of rain.

The voice of Andersen Tower came over Wilson’s headset.

‘Mercury Two Zero Seven, clear taxi to Runway Zero Six Right via Taxiway Bravo. Line up on runway and report ready for takeoff.’

‘Clear taxi Runway Zero Six Right via Bravo, Mercury Two Zero Seven.’ Wilson responded. He looked out of his side windows. ‘All clear my side.’

‘Okay. Clear my side. Moving off.’ Clare reached out, and eased the four thrust levers forward.

A small boy froze at the passenger window of a rented car as the engines’ roar increased. His head turned, following the spaceplane as it started to move. As if he could sense the small boy watching, Bergman was filled with a sudden yearning to reach out and hug his son one last time.

The spaceplane turned left and moved at a walking pace down the taxiway, its twin tailfins piercing the rain-filled sky.

Bergman’s wife reached back and squeezed her son’s hand, but he was oblivious, riveted to the sight and sound of the spaceplane, its navigation lights winking, rolling past where their car stood, its four engines tearing the air with their roar.

Something moved in her peripheral vision, and she watched as three crash tenders rolled along at a discreet distance behind the spaceplane, their red lights turning in the rain. They followed the spaceplane as it took another turn to the right, along the avenue of blue lights that led to the runway.

Other eyes were watching, too. A kilometre away in the main control tower, Colonel Helligan stood behind the ground controllers, binoculars to his eyes, chewing gum as he followed the spaceplane’s progress towards the runway. He watched the elevons and rudders cycle through their control movements: up, down, left, right, as the crew checked the control surfaces for full and free movement.

Two floors down in the tower, Rebecca Short and a group of relatives watched through the rain-soaked windows of viewing area, their hopes and fears embodied in the distant craft that moved through the rain. Short glanced at her watch. Zero hour.

The spaceplane came to the end of the taxiway and rolled onto the main runway, its landing gear thumping loudly as it passed over the joints in the pavement.

Clare waited until the cockpit was well past the centreline, and then turned the ponderous bulk of the spaceplane, the cockpit seeming to move sideways as the nose swung round. The long lines of brilliant white lights, outlining the edges and centreline, came into view, stretching off into the distance. Clare eased off on the turn, letting the spaceplane roll forwards until it was lined up down the centre of the runway.

The weather was easing slightly, but the end of the long runway was still hidden in the distance behind sheets of falling rain. Clare applied the brakes, and the spaceplane slowed to a halt, rocking back and forth slightly on its landing gear.

‘Mercury Two Zero Seven, Runway Zero Six Right, wind zero four zero at one seven, gust to two one, clear for takeoff. Left turn after takeoff, heading zero five two, clear to climb to seven hundred metres.’

‘Runway Zero Six Right, clear takeoff, left turn to zero five two, climb to seven hundred, Mercury Two Zero Seven,’ Wilson acknowledged.

Clare laid her right hand on the engine thrust levers.

‘Takeoff lighting.’

The wet runway outside brightened in the reflected light of the spaceplane’s landing lights.

‘Ejection seats armed.’ Clare pulled and turned a rotary switch on the abort control panel. ‘All set?’

‘Ready.’ Wilson confirmed.

Clare took one last look all round, checking that all was clear, and nodded to Wilson.

‘Right. Let’s go.’

Clare pushed the thrust levers forward to fifty percent thrust, and held the spaceplane on its brakes. She waited until the engines’ pressure ratios stabilised, and then released the brakes.

The spaceplane jerked forward and started to roll.

Clare pushed the thrust levers forward to their full takeoff setting. The engines’ noise surged as the compressors gobbled in air, and the cockpit trembled with power as the spaceplane slowly built up speed along the rain-soaked runway, its wheels thumping over the joints in the concrete.

‘Thrust set,’ Wilson confirmed, watching the engine readouts.

The spaceplane accelerated down the runway, the rain smearing over the windows in long streaks, the thumping from the wheels coming faster and faster.

‘Fifty.’

Clare pushed against the rudder pedals to keep the nose straight ahead as the control forces built. The ride became smoother, more cushioned, as the huge wings started to generate lift. She moved the sidestick in her left hand, keeping the wings level as they hurtled towards the end of the runway, sheets of spray flying in their wake.

The spaceplane was earthbound still; the air rushing over the wings was sucking it skywards, but its weight still held it to the ground. Alternating trails of green and yellow taxiway leadoff lights whipped past now, curving out and away from the centreline.

‘Come on baby, you can do it,’ Clare muttered. Faint creaks and groans came from the craft as the wing took more of the load, and the stresses altered in the airframe.

‘
Vee one.’
The spaceplane’s flight computer spoke for the first time. Clare took her hand off the thrust levers; the spaceplane was beyond the point where she could safely abort the takeoff, and the only way out was off the runway and into the air.

‘Rotate,’ Wilson called, and Clare pulled back on the sidestick. The nose lifted, and the big delta wing sliced into the air, lifting the spaceplane upwards. The vibration from the runway faded, and then vanished, and they were airborne.

The runway lights fell away below them, an alternating sequence of red and white centreline lights warning of the end of the runway, but the spaceplane was climbing now, higher and higher above the ground with every passing second.

‘Positive climb.’

‘Gear up,’ Clare responded, and Wilson reached forward and selected the landing gear handle to the up position. With a series of muffled thumps, the landing gear folded away into the underside of the spaceplane, and the overlapping doors closed and latched over them. They would not be opened again until they were approaching their landing on Mercury.

Clare banked the craft slightly to the left as they climbed, then straightened out onto their assigned course. Below them, they caught a brief glimpse of the ocean, the sea a dull grey under the heavy skies, and then the view was snatched away as the spaceplane plunged into low cloud. The craft heaved and shuddered in the turbulent air inside the clouds, shaking the crew in their seats.

Clare pulled back the thrust levers to the climb setting and engaged the autopilot, and the thunder of takeoff thrust reduced to a steady turbojet roar, thrusting them skywards. The craft accelerated into the climb, slicing upwards at a steady ten degrees.

The voice of Andersen Tower spoke in their headsets: ‘Mercury Two Zero Seven, right turn onto heading one eight zero, clear to climb to flight level nine zero and rendezvous with tanker. Contact Andersen Operations and report when tanker in sight, good day.’

‘Right turn to one eight zero, clear climb to nine zero, contact Andersen Ops, Mercury Two Zero Seven, good day.’ Wilson acknowledged the clearance, and began searching for the tanker on the radar.

‘Okay …’ Clare selected the new heading on the autopilot. The spaceplane banked steeply to the right as it turned towards the south. ‘Now, where’s that LO2 tanker?’

‘I’ve got it.’ Wilson stabbed a finger at his console, and a white diamond appeared on the navigation displays, some way ahead of their current position. ‘They’re holding at nine zero, we’ll be there in … eleven minutes.’

I would have made it ten, Clare thought, then reconsidered. No, eleven was about right. Relax, she told herself. She removed her hand from the sidestick and flexed her fingers, her eyes moving over the cockpit displays.

Behind Clare and Wilson, the four passengers sat more easily; the takeoff was behind them, and they were safely in the climb.

The dim grey light coming into the cockpit lightened to a pearly white, then a bright white, and suddenly the clouds were snatched away and they were in clear air with blue sky above them.

The spaceplane flew along the bottom of a huge, bowl-shaped valley of clouds, lit by the rays of the morning Sun. Around and ahead of them, hillsides of white and grey foam rose up into the clear blue sky. The spaceplane climbed for a minute in this fantastical scene, then plunged through a hillside of cloud and out the other side, the clouds tearing into ragged streamers behind them.