Even though it was only a routine Earth to Moon shuttle, Michael still felt a ripple of excitement at the approaching launch; he always did. He had breakfasted early and 762 had transferred his baggage to the Shuttle which was now sitting prettily inside the launching silo. He was dressed casually and outwardly gave no indication that he belonged to the Company.
He checked with the Control Tower on the telephone by the doors before stepping out on to the tarmac walkway which connected the twenty launching silos. There were only eight silos occupied that morning and his was the first scheduled for departure; his shuttle was in silo fifteen and Michael was soon standing beside his pride and joy.
Michael was a thorough man and started his pre-flight checks on the outside of the craft. He checked the twin rocket orifices and opened the rocket access panel. He was immediately impressed. The Company Engineers had literally polished the working parts of the engine and it gleamed beautifully. In spite of this he still checked the new fuel lines; he checked that they were not touching anything else and that the unions were not leaking. Everything was just perfect.
He replaced the panel and had a cursory glance at the outside of the little vessel; he checked for dents, found none and checked the compulsory navigational lighting to see if any of the lenses had been damaged on entry to the Earth's atmosphere. The Stellar Police who patrolled the popular orbital paths were very unforgiving in these matters. They had to be; low level orbits were flown visually, often without instrumentation and there had been some nasty collisions on account of inadequate navigational lighting. The fines were very high for Orbital Offences and licence suspension and even vehicle confiscation were not unknown. Michael unlocked the hatch with his master-key and climbed in. There was little room to move about in but he quickly donned his space suit.
When he had done that he checked the hold and was pleased to see that his luggage and uniforms had been loaded. At the back of the small hold was a medium sized metal chest sealed with security padlocks and chained to a stanchion to prevent its removal. He knew it was the weapons. 762 had handed over the keys before he left and he was anxious to see what he had been allocated. He decided that he would check them enroute, away from inquisitive eyes. A strange thought crossed his mind and he decided to search his luggage in case an attempt had been made to sabotage him.
A thorough search of the cases and the rest of the shuttle revealed nothing and he wondered if he was being paranoid. He remembered Fred's Son and decided that he wasn't.
Michael secured the hatch and climbed up into the pilot's seat which was, at present, in the vertical position since the craft was balanced on its tail. When the craft reached orbit, or was flying in a horizontal attitude, the seat and controls rotated through ninety degrees so that the pilot could see ahead more easily.
He switched the systems on with his master-key. His first thought was for the giro which had just been repaired. A simple push of a button actuated it and when it had reached its working speed, he checked it out with the aid of the onboard computer.
It was perfect. He thought back and admitted to himself that the little shuttle had needed correcting several times for wandering off course, only fractionally but that was enough over a long distance. The Company had done a good job.
He settled down now to his pre-flight checks; controls, fuel, oxygen, electronic systems and, finally, the sophisticated new radio. It was a fabulous piece of equipment and with a few minutes perusal Michael quickly familiarized himself with its controls. Next he sealed the hatches and called the Control Tower on the radio.
“M.B.Delta 344 to Control Tower, request clearance for launch in sixty seconds.”
"Negative, M.B.Delta 344, I repeat negative. Delay your launch, another ship is on final approach," replied Control.
“Roger, Control, message received and understood, I await your instructions,” acknowledged Michael.
Two minutes later a medium sized commercial Moon Shuttle dropped gracefully through the clouds and landed with pinpoint accuracy in Silo 2.
The voice in his headphones spoke again, "M.B.Delta 344, this is Control, you are cleared for launch in sixty seconds. I will pick up the count at twenty.”
“Roger, Control,” returned Michael. He started the primary ignition sequence, tightened his seat belt and ran his eye over the instruments. "Twenty , fifteen , ten , five, four, three, two, one, zero."
Michael hit the 'ignite' button. Both engines fired simultaneously and the little moon shuttle rose willingly into the air with ever increasing speed. Soon he attained orbit and cut his engines; he moved the seat into its normal flying position. As he approached his escape window on the second orbit, he donned his space helmet as an extra safety precaution. Ground Control gave him the necessary clearance to go and at the precise moment Michael fired both engines.
The little shuttle shot off like a thoroughbred and quickly accelerated to about sixty thousand miles per hour, way above escape velocity. Then the engines were shut down and Michael did his series of in-flight checks which confirmed that every thing was running smoothly. He removed his helmet and relaxed for a little while enjoying the view and the solitude. This was his domain; he loved space.
After a while he put the craft onto Autopilot and went back to check the weapons. He opened the case and found twenty-four weapons. There were twelve standard issue hand pistols, four more powerful electronic rifles, four gas guns and four laser blasters which could actually kill. They had two settings, ‘Stun’ and ‘Kill’ but were not favoured or usually found to be necessary in space situations. Again, Sir Richard was taking no chances.
Michael was well pleased with his small arsenal and he re-sealed the case and put the keys in the tiny safe which was standard equipment on this model. A couple of hours later he had a quick lunch from the flexible packages that had to be used in non-gravity situations. Eating brought back the memory of the previous evening, the barbecue, the touch of his desirable Hostess and he smiled to himself. He had really enjoyed it.
A few hours later the Moon was floating into view and growing larger by the minute. Earth was still visible and looked stunningly beautiful in its various shades of white and delicate, colourful hues.
Michael selected the Moon channel on his radio and turned up the power a little. He attached the neat throat microphone and transmitted. “M.B.Delta to Moonbase Control, please acknowledge.”
A few seconds later his headphones replied, “Moonbase Control to M.B.Delta 344, receiving you very loud and clear. Good Lord, Michael, what are you using for a radio.”
Michael smiled grimly to himself, the new Company radio was obviously much stronger than the standard fitment. He replied, “I treated myself to a new one down on Terra Firma, it appears to have a higher output." He did not want to give too much away.
“It certainly has,” agreed the voice from Moonbase. “It’s nearly bending the needle on my meter."
“Sorry,” laughed Michael. “I’ll turn it down a bit. ...is that better...one, two, three, four, five?”
“Much better, Michael.”
He loved the informality on Moonbase. “What can we do for you this fine day?”
“Returning to Base, E.T.A. in one hour.”
“Roger, your usual silo is available. Air traffic is light today. Please check in on final approach and it’s good to have you back again. ...over and out.”
An hour later, on his final approach, he requested clearance, got it and took over the controls manually. He always liked to put on a little show for the Tower. He gradually reduced speed to about one thousand miles per hour and swooped in over Moonbase Delta, pulled a bone jarring upward turn, then cut the power and corkscrewed up to about two miles above the Base altered his seat to the vertical position and dropped backwards towards the silos using the trimmer jets for correction. At the last minute he briefly applied power and landed like a feather with pinpoint accuracy in his allotted berth.
He went through his wind down procedures and was about to leave when an Official arrived in his hovercar. To Michael's horror he realized that he had overlooked one very important fact,,,, Customs. He had enough weapons in the shuttle to get him locked away for about ten years.
"Anything to declare?" asked the Official. "Five crates of beer, Sir," replied Michael.
"I'm sorry but there will be some Duty payable on such a large amount.” Michael looked a little crestfallen, “Do I pay you?'
“No, if you report to the Office in the Main Building you can settle up there. I'll report in by radio. Is there anything else?”
Michael never hesitated, "Erm...yes, I have twenty-four assorted weapons locked up in the hold.”
The Official laughed, "You pilots will have your little Joke, but that is too outrageous for me to take seriously."
Michael held his breath as the Official signed his clearance papers. He certainly was not going to argue the toss, he was glad to get away with it. He still wanted his mission to remain a secret and he would have had to answer a lot of awkward questions at high level to escape prosecution. He did moan to the Customs Officer about the punitive tax on beer. The Officer sympathized but said he could not do anything about it. Michael paid up grudgingly and made the day of the Customs Officer.
The surface tube car quickly transported Michael to his home. It was nice to see it again. He donned his space suit and opened the airlock into his garage. He jumped into his Moon Truck and drove it straight to the Space Port. He loaded his beer and his luggage but left the weapons and the new uniforms securely locked in the hold and also locked the outer door of the Shuttle. This door was fitted with an automatic alarm which would actuate a 'Bleeper' which Michael carried with him. It also acted as a 'tracking' device in case of theft to help locate the craft.
He returned home, unpacked his things then laid down quietly with a cup of coffee and just let the events of the week sink into his brain. After a while he got up, made himself another coffee, drank it then went to his gym. He worked out for a full hour then showered and went to bed. It was a different Michael who woke up the following morning. He was a man intent on getting into top physical and mental condition, a man with a mission. He only had five days so he worked very hard indeed, working out, studying manuals, bringing himself up to date with the planetary configurations and plotting trajectories. He never left his quarters and he never spoke to anyone else.
On the seventh day, the designated day for the rendezvous, he woke early, packed his manuals and personal belongings, locked up his quarters and took the surface tube back to the Space Port. Once at the space port, he set to work with a lot of determination. Auxiliary fuel tanks were quickly fitted to the little Shuttle and Michael personally refuelled the craft.
To his great relief the weapons were still intact and his uniforms were untouched. He did a quick security check on the Shuttle but found nothing untoward. The rest of the luggage was soon loaded. He called up the oxygen contractor and the tanker refilled all his oxygen and life support systems. The oxygen man was a life long acquaintance of Michael.
“Are you going far?” he asked .
Michael had already worked out his reply to that question.
“I’m taking a long vacation and I’m going to do some travelling on Earth, so I’ll be gone quite a long time. In fact, I have no idea when I will return.”
“You lucky man,” retorted his friend. “Footloose and fancy free, I wish I could just up and away like that. Anyway have a good time and spare a thought for us workers."
Michael laughed and said his goodbyes and was finally ready to fly. He climbed in, sealed all the hatches and requested take off clearance when all his systems were running.
"What is your destination ?” enquired Control.
“I'm going to Earth and I will be staying for a while, at least three months," lied Michael.
"Roger, M.B.Delta 344. There is a small hazard enroute a small convoy has just left Earth for Moon Base Alpha, be sure to give them plenty of room."
“Roger, Control, and thanks. Give me a countdown from twenty when you're ready.”
As the count reached zero Michael thumbed the ignition button and used full power in a blistering and bone wrenching takeoff. He felt good but was slightly behind schedule. He knew from experience that time was difficult to make up . As he cleared the sensor indicator zone he eased up and checked his screen; it was clear. He was on nobody else's screen and was therefore undetectable. He changed course towards the co-ordinates he had chosen. He had an hour and a long way to go. He gunned the motors to give him the exact required velocity.
It had proved useful to have the extra fuel on board, he was burning it up at a very fast rate. He put the craft onto autopilot and went to his suitcases. He was going to take over his new Command and he intended to look the part when he arrived. He donned his official uniform and packed his own clothes. Michael firmly believed that first impressions were important, particularly with a crew he did not know. He pondered whether he should wear a pistol but thought that it would be too provocative, so he decided against it.
He took over manual control and started to study his screen. The Atlas was there; faint at first but getting steadily stronger. Soon it was in visual range travelling quickly towards him. He went out in a wide circle and inspected the other vessel to verify its identity. No signals were sent or received, which was what he had ordered; the docking was to remain secret.
He fixed his full spacesuit helmet and manually matched speeds and carried out a splendid docking manoeuvre by flying straight into the container which had been reserved and left open for him. He immobilized the Shuttle and actuated the magnetic chocks on the undercarriage which were used when the craft was landed horizontally rather than vertically. When he was satisfied that all was secure he slowly depressurized the cabin and opened the hatch.
He picked up a pair of remote-controlled magnetic anchors and secured them to his safety belt. These were very useful for moving about the outside of the hull. The electro-magnets were controlled from a small panel at the opposite end, so you could float to the end of the tether, secure a second magnet then release the first. Using this technique he leapfrogged to the air lock, which he opened. He coiled his safety lines and shut the hatch.
The airlock was repressurized by pressing a large red button and when the job was complete a large 'Safe' sign flashed on. Michael started to feel a little nervous and self-conscious but pulled himself together, removed his helmet, opened the inner door and stepped into the Receiving room with as much dignity as he could muster in a space suit.
Michael had rehearsed his opening speech. He knew exactly what he was going to say, he was going to thank them and compliment them on the accuracy of their secret rendezvous. However the dignity of the occasion was broken as he stepped through towards the assembled crew and a familiar voice called, “Gawd, Sir, you ain't ‘arf put on weight.”
Michael was so startled that he spun round quickly, forgetting all about the weak gravity, lost his footing and fell in an undignified heap on the Receiving room floor. He blinked up at the grinning faces of the crew and a slow smile started as he recognized one face after another. The final face he saw was the last one he ever expected to see on a mission like this and the grin faded a little.
“Welcome aboard, Captain,” laughed Charlotte Linaker.
“Would somebody please help me up from the floor?” roared Michael. Two men leapt forward and assisted him to his feet.
“Thank you,” said Michael a little more calmly. “What are you bunch of reprobates doing here and where is the Acting Captain?”
The man who had spoken first answered. "The answer to both questions is Miss Linaker, Sir.”
Michael was incredulous. "Have you piloted this vessel from Earth, Miss Linaker?”
Charlotte was getting a kick out of his discomfort. “Of course,” she replied. “I was the only suitably qualified Officer available. Also it is Company policy for the Chief Personnel Officer to accompany new skippers on their inaugural flights. So I exercised my rights and here I am.”
“Oh I see,” mumbled Michael, a little at a loss for words.
He decided to take command. “We will discuss these matters later. Arnie, take three men and bring the metal box and my personal belongings from the Shuttle, we can’t stay hove-to here all day. Seal the container and report back to me personally when everything is aboard. Will the rest of the crew please return to their posts and keep a sharp lookout. I don’t want a collision and I don’t wish to be detected. Miss Linaker, please accompany me to my quarters; please lead the way I don’t know where they are.”
The crew leapt into action. Once inside his quarters Michael confronted Charlotte. “What the Hell are you doing here?” he asked severely.
“I thought I had just told you,” she replied sweetly.
“Charlotte, this could be a very dangerous mission and it is no place for a Lady like yourself.”
“The facts are the facts, Captain,” snapped Charlotte. “You are the Commander of this mission and of this Ship, but I am an Executive Officer of this Company. It just happens that I earned that position on merit. Sir Richard does not promote people because he likes the way they look. I would not undermine your authority as Captain. You should not… no...will not undermine mine. I have my job to do, so do not interfere. You may have noticed that there are familiar faces in the crew. They are here because I recruited them, they are also new to this Company. One of my jobs is to report on the performance of every new Company employee. That is on the job spec of the Head of Personnel. It just happens that I am a damned good pilot as well. The crew accepted me without question. You must do the same.”
Normally Michael would have agreed that it made a lot of sense. Sir Richard had fastidiously followed the normal Company procedures and if Charlotte had stayed on Earth it would have been an obvious break in routine. Charlotte had become expendable for the sake of security. “And Sir Richard had said that I was a hard man," he thought grimly. To Charlotte he growled, “I suspect that I know you a lot better than the crew... I apologise, Charlotte, but the problem is that I have grown very fond of you and the thought of any harm coming to you as a result of this mission is very disturbing.”
"The feeling is mutual," blushed Charlotte. "But if anything nasty happens I would prefer to be here anyway."
The intercom crackled. "Captain... the luggage and supplies are safely stowed aboard and the shuttle is secure and sealed, Sir."
"Thank you,” replied Michael curtly. “Set a course on vector four, nine, two point zero, six. I will be up immediately to get us underway.”
”Four, nine, two point zero, six it is, Sir.” The intercom went dead.
“Come on then, Miss Linaker, let’s get this Ship underway. May I call you Charlie, it’s so much easier.”
“Of course,” she replied.
Five minutes later everybody was strapped into their seats waiting for the acceleration sequence.
“Status, please,” requested Michael.
“No vessels within twenty thousand miles, Sir,” came the reply. “The computer shows no evidence of any other logged flight crossing our path on this vector.”
That did not surprise Michael. He had selected a vector which would take them uncomfortably close to the Sun, just outside the orbit of Mercury. There would be an uncomfortable period but he would be travelling very quickly at this point so it would soon pass.
"O.K. Charlie, give me a countdown from twenty and mark the computer time please.”
“Aye, aye, Captain. twenty. ...fifteen. ...ten. ...five, four, three, two, one, mark.”
There was a slight movement at first with a firm pressure in the back and the speed began to build up smoothly. Michael was using maximum power on the gravity of the Sun which was the most acceleration he could achieve under these conditions. The acceleration lasted two hours and the ship was moving quite quickly, a lot faster than some of the crew had been before. He then shut down the power and allowed the craft to free fall.
“Status, please?” requested Michael.
“All clear to the limit of our sensors, Captain."
"Thank you," said Michael. He then spoke into the intercom. “This is the Captain speaking, there will be a crew inspection and formal meeting in thirty minutes time. You may stand down until then.”