Below Mercury by Mark Anson Page A

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.’

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    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