2 responses to “Flight of the Valkyrie – Book I of the Asatru Saga”
-
Chapter 1
The International Space Station, 250 miles above Earth
Claire stared out the window at the swirling clouds awestruck. The view never got old. It was so mesmerizing that she lost track of time while under its hypnotic spell, just like everyone else who looked out at it. Only a small handful of people ever get to see their home the way she did. From two hundred fifty miles up, the planet looked serene and quiet. There were no signs of any human struggles, political boundaries, or senseless conflicts from here. From orbit, Earth was a beautiful, bright blue and white marble peacefully floating in the blackness of space. The idyllic image belied what sometimes went on below, however.
Underneath the clouds, people went about their daily lives, trying to survive and find some happiness in uncertain times, while governments vied for power and supremacy. From every corner, quiet courage keeps the world turning. That much has not changed in the whole course of human events. Tragically, though, volumes of books on the history of humanity could easily be written in the blood of countless innocent souls who have perished in the innumerable wars that have been fought since the dawn of civilization. Individual needs have always been in juxtaposition with national agendas.
Despite separation in time, distance, and culture, all the conflicts had one thing in common. They had all been fought over the most precious commodity on the planet, land. The Earth hasn’t grown, but the number of people has, putting an increasing and excruciating strain on limited resources. Today, the stakes are higher than ever before because countries have a far more lethal arsenal of weapons in their hands to play the dangerous game of global brinkmanship.
Above the clouds, Claire couldn’t see the devastating effects of the Ukrainian-Russian War, with the ruins of Kyiv still smoldering and the long, dismal line of refugees desperately trying to leave the country. Similarly, hordes of tanks, thundering across the Sinai Peninsula, were far too small for her eyes to discern. Even the buildup of ships and troops in eastern China was so minuscule that it couldn’t be detected from her lofty vantage point.
For the moment, space was unspoiled by conflict, but that was quickly changing with advancements in technology. Some countries had even declared orbiting objects legitimate military targets and space as a new warfare domain. Claire shuddered at the idea. She found it inconceivable that up here could be anything but peaceful. Even though she knew what went on in the world below, she could at least pretend from her lofty perch that it temporarily didn’t exist. Like a giant eagle, she looked down from her aerie to see a vast and beautiful world untouched by human incursion.
This was her favorite place to hang out during her brief free times. The sight of an untroubled Earth, even if it was a façade, provided her with comfort and security. She had her own demons to deal with, and the cupola gave her an escape from them. It was her little private sanctuary.
In actuality, the cupola had been installed on the International Space Station not just for Claire, but as an observation point to provide unbridled 360-degree views of space and Earth. Its seven large windows provided astronauts with an unobstructed vantage point to monitor the long robotic arm and the space shuttle docking ring. When it was not being used for actual station operations, and it coincided with her scarce downtime, Claire used it as her own personal retreat. She could usually be found relaxing inside, meditating with her eyes open as she took in the magnificent view.
She floated in a fetal position with her arms wrapped around her curled-up legs and her bright red hair drifting freely above her head. The air currents had gently pushed her against the window until her forehead touched the cold glass. Only five inches of transparent aluminum plates separated her from the warm and safe environment of the station to the cold and lethal vacuum of space. When she looked out of these same windows for the first time, she was very aware of that fact. Now, after over six months in space, she had almost forgotten the precarious and dangerous conditions in which she lived.
Veteran astronauts tend to become complacent after a while in space. They learn to trust the technology implicitly. They have to, or they would go crazy constantly worrying about what was outside the station’s thin metal walls. Sometimes, bravado is the only thing that keeps your sanity when you’re cooped up in a flying tin can that’s hurtling over eighteen thousand miles an hour above the Earth.
Right now, she wasn’t concerned about the dangers of living in space. She was enjoying the tranquility of the moment. She continued gazing out as the Earth passed silently beneath her. Her bright emerald eyes didn’t blink as they stared in fascination.
Behind her expressionless mask, Claire thought of her family and the ranch in Wyoming. She hadn’t been back home in too long. Her career had taken her all over the world, and now above it. There was always something that got in the way whenever she thought about visiting her family. A memory of riding her horse across the grassy plains unexpectedly appeared in her mind. She looked down as they crossed North America and squinted, trying to see if she could make out the Grand Teton Mountains.
The station’s intercom jarringly intruded, breaking into her temporary solitude.
“Claire, you’re needed in the Columbus module,” Commander Ellis’ voice chimed from the bulkhead speaker.
Claire deftly reached up and pushed the communication button.
“On my way,” she replied with a bit of irritation seeping into her voice.
Damn it. It was probably something unimportant and trivial again, she thought.
With a gentle push, she turned around to exit the Cupola and trek all the way across the station to its other end. The ISS, she learned, is like a long, interconnected labyrinth of high-tech modules, part science lab, part spaceship, part home. She could navigate it blindfolded. Each module was designed and built by the different countries that formed the space-faring alliance that collectively developed the orbital outpost. It was a grand achievement of international cooperation in space exploration. The mission patch she wore on her right shoulder depicted the ISS ringed by the flags of the countries that supported it. She was proud to be part of something much bigger than herself.
The zero-gravity made transversing the station very effortless. She had to remind herself, however, to stay in the center of the passageways. Every surface, the floor, walls, and ceiling, was used because there’s no ‘up’ or ‘down’ in zero gravity. All the space was needed for the plethora of scientific studies that the crew was conducting on behalf of researchers all over the world.
She had been put on the crew roster as an assistant to the two French scientists from the European Space Agency, the ESA, who arrived last month. She rued the bad luck of the draw that assigned her to this babysitting duty. She had other, far more important responsibilities. She understood that all the crew had additional collateral jobs due to the nature of living and working in a cramped area while trying to maximize their time in orbit, but that understanding didn’t take away the drudgery of the task. She sucked it up, knowing it was all in the name of science.
The French astronauts were conducting experiments on how bees could pollinate in microgravity. They were probably good scientists, she surmised. However, she felt they took her position as an assistant a little too literally. They treated her like a rookie graduate student and continually relied on her for tasks they couldn’t possibly do themselves.
She wondered what it was this time, as she floated her way through the station to the science module. Last time, one of the scientists had accidentally let a few of the bees out of their little habitat. The poor creatures were valiantly trying to fly in zero gravity but had problems orienting themselves. They would run into each other with one legs-up and the other legs-down.
The scene was made even more comical by one of the scientists frantically swatting at his little charges with a binder. His fanning-like motions had propelled him to the far end of the module, where he was pinned against the bulkhead, still swinging away. Ironically, it turned out he was scared of bees.
Claire snickered to herself, remembering the incident. Hopefully, all the bees were safely contained. It took her almost an hour to find and carefully collect all of them last time.
It’s not that she minded helping conduct genuine scientific research. It was just a little demeaning to be at the beck and call of two prima-donna researchers in space. She knew she had earned her spot on the station the hard way.
She was proud to have attended the United States Naval Academy and graduated third in her class, majoring in aerospace engineering and minoring in applied mathematics. Her class standing and other accomplishments set her on the path as a Naval aviator. She qualified for jets and was selected to fly the brand-new F-47 Stingray.
She was proud that she excelled as a pilot too. Her eight years in the cockpit had seen her fly twenty combat missions over the Middle East. The Distinguished Flying Cross proudly displayed on her uniform testified to her skills and bravery in the air. Those skills, along with her academic degrees, had earned her a coveted spot in NASA’s astronaut training program. Graduating at the top of her astronaut class put her on the International Space Station crew rotation. Yet, despite all her accomplishments, here she was playing orbiting nursemaid to some needy scientists.
Oh well, she thought. The view is worth the sacrifice.
Claire reached the hatch to the Columbus module, grabbed both sides of the circular frame, and gently pushed herself inside. Both scientists, Dr. Pierre Fontaine and Dr. Luke Dubois, were there. They seemed to be intently studying something under a microscope and did not immediately see Claire floating in. She let her momentum carry her right up next to them, unnoticed.
“You needed something?” she asked, feigning politeness.
Her unexpected presence startled the men. Dr. Dubois suddenly looked up. His jarring motion caused him to float away from his partner in a slow somersault. Claire almost laughed out loud, but kept a respectful silence.
“Oh, good, you are here,” said Dr. Fontaine in a thick French accent, the kind that many Americans always find a little condescending. “We need help establishing a communication feed that will connect with the station’s computer system and allow us to transmit video of our bees back to our colleagues at ESA in Paris,” he explained.
“Ok, that should be fairly simple,” she replied outwardly.
Inwardly, she allowed herself a different response. “Really! That is what you called me here for?” she silently screamed in her head.
She took a deep breath to compose herself and told them as courteously as she could muster, “I’ll be right back.”
“Yes, yes, merci,” Fontaine responded with a slight wave of his hand, not looking at her.
Claire rolled her eyes and pushed out of the module and into the long tunnel formed by the Harmony, Destiny, and Unity modules joined end to end. Together, they made seventy feet of unobstructed free space. It was the location where all first-timers to the station played Superman by propelling themselves from one end to the other with an arm stretched out in front. It was the ultimate selfie shot. Claire swore she wouldn’t do something that corny when she found out she was going to crew the station, but succumbed to the temptation once she got here. She had to admit, it was fun.
At the moment, the tunnel was devoid of crew members, which was a rare occurrence. It momentarily struck her as odd, but then she remembered there was an EVA planned for the morning. Morning was an arbitrary term in orbit. They experienced sixteen sunrises and sunsets in a twenty-four-hour day. Therefore, NASA set the ISS to Greenwich Mean Time to better align it with humans’ natural circadian rhythm.
She made her way down the tunnel, navigating around a tangle of wires, equipment, and hoses strewn throughout the modules to support the various station functions needed to keep their little world running around the clock. The station resembled a junk shop, but it was functional. Since they never got company, they never worried about tidying it up.
They also never worried about the smell. Every astronaut who had ever served aboard the station described it differently, and never in a pleasant way. When she took off her helmet for the first time coming to the station, it hit her olfactory senses like a sledgehammer blow. The best she could describe it was a combination of hospital and locker room. Luckily, after a few days, her nose gave up trying to process the offending smell and became dormant. Unfortunately, she couldn’t smell herself either to know if she was adding to the unpleasant aroma.
As she floated through the Destiny module, she noted the varied experiments being conducted. Destiny was the U.S. Laboratory component of the station and, as such, hosted some cutting-edge research projects.
Her other charge, a hybrid soybean plant, seemed to be faring well. A botanist was testing whether the plant could grow in microgravity in anticipation of a Mars mission. Maybe someday it would, Claire thought.
Destiny also served as the central corridor through which everyone passed, making it a hub of activity. So, it tended to look like a disorganized mess to the untrained eye. Claire, however, knew every knob, cable, dial, and screen in it.
She had just passed through the area to get to the Columbus module and hadn’t noticed anything amiss. This time, however, she saw that an access panel had been removed from an equipment rack and left floating beside it.
Carelessness like that offended her military training. She frowned and stopped to secure it back in its proper place, and made a mental note to mention it at their next crew briefing. Once she was satisfied it was back where it should be, she continued along the tunnel.
In the last module, she turned left into the Quest Airlock. Inside, Station Commander Ellis was helping Michelle and Peter suit up for EVA. They were next on the roster to do some scheduled maintenance and repairs on the outside of the station. Keeping the ISS running was a never-ending chore. As with all the work around the station, the crew took turns and shared the load.
“Hey, guys. You look like you’re about ready to head out,” Claire greeted them.
“Ya. Somebody’s got to work around here,” Peter joked.
“I’ll trade you. You can wait on Fontaine and Dubois and I’ll do the EVA,” Claire offered, not joking.
“No unauthorized changes to the duty roster,” Commander Ellis told her. “Besides, they requested you.”
“Bullshit,” Claire remarked.
“Peter pissed them off. They won’t work with him anymore. And since I’m the station Medical Officer, I get out of it,” Michelle told her.
“How’d you piss them off?” Claire asked.
“It was easy. I’m German,” Peter quipped.
“Hmm. Maybe I could start faking a German accent,” she mused.
“Nein, you’re too ginger. It gives you away as Scottish. Plus, you’re prettier than me,” he said.
“That’s sexist,” she feigned indignation.
“But true. You know French men. Oui, oui,” he teased.
Michelle and Claire laughed as Peter made an exaggerated pantomime of hugging and kissing his empty spacesuit top.
“Alright, let’s keep it clean and professional, people,” Commander Ellis told them.
“Sorry, Commander,” Peter apologized but winked at Claire on the side.
She smiled and winked back to show she was not offended.
“With that, I’ll leave you to your EVA. I’m in search of a long HDMI cable. Any suggestions?” she asked them.
“Try the Russians, they usually have a bunch of spare cables,” Michelle offered.
“While you’re at it, would you please check the external proximity sensor array? It went down last night and I haven’t had time to figure it out,” Ellis asked.
“Ok, I will,” Claire promised.
Claire left the airlock and headed further down the tunnel to the connector adapter that joined the Russian Zarya module to the rest of the station. The Zarya module, also known more technically as the Functional Cargo Block, or FGB, was the first component to be launched for the ISS. It was the beginning of the orbital outpost’s assembly back in 1998.
She passed through the narrow connector into the “Russian” side of the station. Even though it was all the “International” Space Station, the Russian Orbital Segment was built, owned, and operated by Roscosmos. Americans were welcome there and vice versa, but due to increased tensions between the two countries, an unspoken arrangement essentially divided the station into two territories.
“Anyone home?” she called out over the din.
The entire station was loud due to the incessant noise of circulation fans, cooling pumps, and electronic equipment, all of which produced an annoying seventy-two decibels. The Russian segment was notoriously even louder. Their less stringent design requirements produced a cacophony that made hearing very difficult.
“Hey, anyone home?” she asked again, louder.
The question was rhetorical. Of course, Yuri and Dimitri were there. The two Russian cosmonauts couldn’t have gone anywhere. It was Claire’s way of being polite whenever she went to see them.
“No one is here right now. Please come back later,” Dimitri’s standard friendly answer echoed from inside.
“Howdy, I was wondering if you had a long HDMI cable I could borrow? It’s actually for Fontaine, but I’m his gopher today,” she asked.
“Gopher?” Dimitri repeated, confused.
“It’s an old American slang term for ‘go-for-this and go-for-that,’” she explained.
“Ah, I get it. A joke,” he replied with a laugh. “Let me see.”
While Dimitri rummaged through some lockers, Yuri floated in. He seemed surprised to see her there and hurriedly pushed himself back through the connector to the other module. In his haste, the large metal canister he was holding slammed into the bulkhead with a loud crash. He quickly cradled it close to his body with a worried look. Nervously, he turned it over and over, closely inspecting it for damage. Satisfied that it was ok, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“What are you working on?” she asked casually.
Yuri looked at her a little suspiciously. “Just some new electronic equipment installation,” he told her guardedly.
“Sounds like fun. I’m doing some electronics stuff too,” she said cheerfully, trying to strike up a conversation.
Yuri disappeared into the adjoining Zvezda module without another word. He was usually a very cordial crewmate who enjoyed hearing and sharing stories with the rest of them. Lately, he seemed pretty tight-lipped and distant, though. Claire knew from experience that long space missions affected people differently. The isolation, monotony, confinement, and, most of all, the absence of loved ones, wore on every astronaut, regardless of how seasoned. She worried he was falling into depression.
“Here is a cable. You may keep it,” Dimitri said, producing a long black cord.
“Is Yuri ok?” she asked him.
“Da, I think he is. He has been working by himself for the last few days and doesn’t talk much. Maybe he is homesick? I will check on him,” he told her.
“Thanks,” she said. “And spasibo for the cable,” she added in Russian.
Claire made her way back to the ESA module to assist Dubois and Fontaine with their data network setup, before they began calling over the intercom for her.
Inside, she found the two French scientists hovering over their bees and taking notes.
“I got the cable!” she told them triumphantly.
“Merci, the computer port is over there,” Dubois said, absently pointing to a panel on the upper bulkhead and continuing to write down his observations of bee behavior, which he obviously found fascinating. Apparently, bees are so intriguing that he forgot how to be polite, Claire noted.
Her look could have shot daggers at the scientists. She thought about a snarky comeback but decided against it. Instead, she just sighed, resigning herself to her fate, and pushed off in the direction of the port. Sometimes silence is the best answer, she reminded herself.
When she reached the port, she spun around agilely to plug in the HDMI cable. Suddenly, a loud crash reverberated through the module, violently shaking the entire structure. An instant later, the alarms blared through the station. Before she could reach the module hatch, Commander Ellis’s voice burst out from the station’s intercom.
“Secure all hatches immediately! I repeat, secure all hatches immediately,” he ordered. There was a clear tone of urgency in his voice.
Claire obediently grabbed the module hatch and pulled it inward. She quickly turned the locking mechanism and sealed the three of them inside. She then spun around to look out the module’s only small window. As she peered outside, she let out a loud gasp.
-
Chapter 2
Jefferson National Forest, Virginia, 3,500 ft elevation
“Wait up!” yelled Rachel. “I’m not as fast as you.”
Steve looked back and smiled.
“You need to pick up the pace,” he chided.
Rachel frowned and continued up the steep slope. The thirty-pound pack weighed heavily on her small frame. Despite the burden and rough terrain, he knew she was determined to reach the top. She was not about to let him get to the peak without her. He also knew that she really loved him, but didn’t want to see his smug look if she quit now. They had made a bet on who would drop out first from trying to summit the mountain. The loser got the embarrassment of wimping out, along with kitchen duty for a month. The winner could brag from the comfort of the living room couch while the other one cooked.
“Ha, passing you on your left,” she triumphantly declared as she proudly strode by him.
Steve just smiled and let her take the lead. He fell in behind her as they continued up the trail.
“I like this view better anyway,” he teased.
Rachel looked back and rolled her eyes.
“Men,” she moaned.
Steve smiled and let his mind wander as they hiked. His thoughts quickly drifted to his relationship with Rachel and his career ambitions. His two passions seemed finally within reach, which both excited and scared him.
He had met Rachel through a mutual friend. Her best friend knew his best friend type of thing. They went on a blind double date to a movie and dinner. The movie was bad, and the dinner was mediocre, but she and Steve hit it off.
They were both outdoor enthusiasts who enjoyed activities such as hiking, kayaking, and biking. They were also both into late-night couch-potato surfing. They binged-watched every season of the latest hyped-up television series. Most importantly, they enjoyed each other’s company.
Steve made her laugh. He had a dry, but funny, sense of humor that she appreciated, while few others did. She, in turn, provided Steve with some much-needed stability in his chaotic life.
Steve, or in full Lieutenant Commander Steven Paige, was a former Navy fighter pilot. He lived on adrenaline and jet fuel. He exemplified the part too. With bright blue eyes, dark brown hair, and a six-foot-even athletic frame, he looked like he stepped right out of a recruiting poster. It was one of the characteristics he was aware of that attracted her to him. He hoped that there were other things, too. He constantly tried to prove to her that he was more than just a jet-jockey and win her approval.
He was a good pilot, though. His service career was marked by daring missions in the air over Iraq and Afghanistan, which had earned him several medals, including the Distinguished Flying Cross, while his exploits on the ground had earned him the unofficial callsign “Turbulence.”
His real passion, however, was higher up, much higher up. Since he was a young boy, Steve dreamed of going into space. That is why he applied to the Naval Academy. His ambition drove him to study hard, and play hard, too. Which is why he had earned the reputation at the Academy of being, as his company commander noted in his final evaluation, “a dedicated and gifted midshipman with a penchant for breaking the rules.”
Despite a few demerits for minor infractions, Steve made it into the cockpit. He flew with the Navy for ten years. During that time, he earned the respect of his fellow aviators and ground crew not just for being an ace pilot but also for being a good leader who genuinely cared about his shipmates. He led by example and was always willing to selflessly sacrifice himself for them and his country. He was aware of the risks and accepted them as part of the job.
When not in the cockpit, Steve continued pursuing his dream. He put in a few hopeful applications to NASA for astronaut training. Unfortunately, each time the selection board responded with a rejection letter.
Steve was about ready to accept that flying his fighter off the carrier was the closest to orbit he was going to get. Then, out of the blue, he got wind of a small start-up aerospace company called Event Horizon, which had announced they were seeking skilled and experienced test pilots for a new spaceplane they were developing. Without hesitation, he applied.
A few weeks went by and then a letter arrived from the company inviting him to an in-person interview. He took some leave and flew up to the company headquarters in Seattle. The interview went very well. On the spot, they offered him the position, and he accepted immediately. He returned to San Diego and the next morning submitted his request to transfer to the reserves. Reluctantly, his commanding officer approved it. Now he was wholly committed to the program.
Rachel, on the other hand, was much more sedate and grounded, which Steve reluctantly acknowledged he needed in a partner. She was doing her residency at Cape Canaveral Hospital and worked long and erratic hours, but always made time for him. She made him feel special.
She was the girl-next-door type of pretty, cute, but not too glamorous. Her short, blond hair framed her lightly freckled face, which was accented by deep blue eyes and pouty lips. Steve found her irresistibly attractive.
He understood that her job made it difficult for her to have a social life, so he appreciated the times they had together. The hospital got the lion’s share of her attention. By the time she got home from work, she was exhausted. On her days off, she had gotten into the mundane routine of hanging out at her condominium with Stanley, her only love interest until Steve.
Stanley was a good companion, but a strong, silent type. He enjoyed taking walks, curling up to watch movies, and sharing meals. He wasn’t great at conversation, though. He just looked up at her with those big brown Golden Retriever eyes whenever she confided some personal problem in him. She would talk, and he would listen and then offer a paw or roll over to get his chest scratched as compensation for providing therapy.
Steve and Stanley had a little bit of rivalry early on. It took a little while for the dog to accept that someone else would be hanging around. He had been the sole object of his owner’s affection for his entire life and wasn’t accustomed to sharing her with anyone. Steve eventually won him over with snacks and endless games of fetch, though. They reached a truce, accepting that there was room for both of them in her life.
Steve and Rachel had been together for almost a year now. He did not know exactly where they were heading, but he didn’t really care either. Right now, he was content to have someone in his life with whom he could share things, and he knew Rachel wanted to have a life away from work again, even if it was while sweating and gasping her way up the side of a mountain.
The hike up Mount Rogers was not particularly difficult, but it was a good workout for her. Steve was accustomed to much taller peaks back in his native Washington State, but he didn’t want to scare her off on their first camping trip. This was her chance to prove that she would and could hang with him.
They had planned this weekend’s backpacking trip to get away from the craziness of Cape Canaveral and the brutal Florida heat. He hoped it was a chance for them to deepen their connection by sharing some quality time in nature. The Appalachian Mountains might not be as tall as the Cascades, but they still offer some breathtaking views of the Virginia countryside.
They continued hiking and enjoying the smell of red spruce and magnolia as they gazed down into the deep valleys. Not a sign of civilization was to be seen. This was exactly what he had in mind when he planned the trip.
That afternoon, they found a small glade carved out of the dense forest where the surrounding trees formed branching columns that supported a clear, blue dome overhead. Filtered sunlight shone down on green grasses dotted with colorful wildflowers, while flying insects restlessly darted from one bloom to another in constant motion, and a nearby creek filled the air with its tranquil melody. The sweet smell of fresh growth, mixed with the musky scent of crushed leaves and fallen pine needles, rose to permeate the air, reminding visitors of nature’s endless cycle.
Stepping into the glade, Rachel and Steve felt like they were entering another world, where time stopped. Outside, the world kept going, but inside, it was just them. Simultaneously, they heaved a sigh of relief and felt their cares fall off their shoulders.
They lightened their load even more by unbuckling and dropping their heavy packs. Rachel rolled her sore shoulders and winced a little. Steve looked over at her and smiled.
“You doing OK?” he asked.
She arched her back. “Yes, I’m just stretching,” she answered, trying to cover for the pain she was feeling.
“Good. I’m going to set up camp,” he told her.
Steve busied himself with the tent while Rachel rummaged through her pack, looking for a fresh shirt to exchange for the sweaty one she was wearing. Within a few moments, the tent was up and they moved in. The down sleeping bags felt better than any bed after their long, arduous hike.
Steve rolled on his side to look at her. “Thank you for coming,” he said.
Rachel smiled back. “Who needs a luxury hotel, when you have all this?” she teased, sweeping her hand around the sparse tent interior, and kissed him.
That night, Steve built a small fire, and they sat under the stars wrapped together in a blanket. He pointed out the different constellations as Rachel snuggled against him to keep warm. Eventually, he stopped talking and simply enjoyed their solitude. The sound of the creek and the occasional hooting of an owl were the only sounds they could hear over the crackling of the fire.
“Do you think you will ever get up there?” Rachel asked drowsily.
“I hope so. It’s all I ever wanted, until now,” he told her.
She smiled and buried her face in his chest. Steve continued to look up at the stars, wondering if his gamble with leaving the Navy for the civilian sector would pay off. the Valkyrie would decide his fate.
Valkyrie was the code name assigned to the company’s new spaceship, which they were developing to join the rapidly growing space race. If successful, it would be a game-changer in Earth-to-orbit and beyond space transport. It would also be the vehicle to possibly lift Steve into the heavens.
Entrepreneur Richard Stafford had invested millions of dollars in his latest venture. He specifically founded Event Horizon for the project. The new technology involved an exotic propulsion system that utilized a pulsed plasma drive. NASA had agreed to rent an assembly and launch facility at Cape Canaveral for the ship, which is how Steve ended up in Florida. It was nearing completion for a trial flight, and Steve was its test pilot.
He looked at Rachel, who had fallen asleep. One side of him wanted to blast off tomorrow into the unknown; another side wanted to stay with her like this forever. He hoped that the two paths weren’t mutually exclusive. Navy life had shown him just how difficult it was to balance a career and family. “Could I have both?” he wondered.
The fire had died to a few, last glowing embers, allowing the cold to seep into their cocoon. He roused Rachel, and they climbed into the tent and the waiting warmth of their sleeping bags. He fell asleep wondering what the future might hold for them.
The next morning, they reluctantly packed up camp and re-shouldered their backpacks.
“This is the last push for the summit,” Steve told her.
“Lead on. I’m not quitting,” she replied firmly.
With her affirmation, he marched out of the glade and back into the forest and the awaiting world.
A short while up the trail, Steve’s phone unexpectedly rang. The electronic buzzing seemed oddly out of place in the hush wilderness. It echoed awkwardly in the canyon they were passing through.
“Really, I thought you turned that off?” asked Rachel, irritably.
“Apparently, I forgot,” answered Steve.
He took the slim phone from his hip pocket and glanced at the caller ID on the screen.
“It’s Sam,” Steve called up the trail to Rachel.
Sam was the project manager for Event Horizon. He oversaw the Valkyrie program. Despite being vastly different, he and Steve had become good friends. The unlikely pair formed the backbone of the company.
“Whatever he wants, it can wait until Monday. We’re here to climb a mountain. You better get the lead out or I’m going to beat you to the top,” she teased.
Steve hesitated. He knew that Sam was very mindful of calling on the weekends. He looked at the screen for a moment, debating whether to answer the call. Before he could decide, it stopped ringing and automatically went to his voicemail. He waited a moment longer. A text message popped up.
“It’s Sam. There’s been an accident on the ISS. I need to get a hold of you ASAP,” it read.
“Shit,” said Steve under his breath. I knew I should have answered it, he rebuked himself.
He tapped the dial button and the phone rang. Sam did not answer. When it went to voicemail, Steve hung up in frustration.
“Shit,” he said again.
“We’ve got to turn around and head back to the Jeep,” he yelled up to Rachel.
Rachel was out of sight. She had continued up the trail to get a lead on Steve while he dealt with his phone. She had rounded a large rock spur and was no longer in view or hearing.
“Shit,” said Steve for the third time.
Steve shook his head and trotted up the trail in pursuit of his girlfriend.
Leave a Reply