today.”
I let my head cool for a moment while I glanced around the room. The excitement was electrifying. Checklists were being ticked off, measurements read out, switches flipped, and hundreds of keystrokes logged from consoles all around the room. My gut was clenched and twisting again.
“You're right, I'm sorry. Thanks, Jayce. I'll stay back and keep my head down.”
Jayce's face lightened into one of his grand smiles. “That will keep the gray out of my hair.”
Just then the main view screen in the center of the room snapped to a shot of the Lens shuttle docked inside the gate. All of the connections between the gate and the master relay on the colony had been made. There was a tangle of conduit and cabling running from the surface to the gate. Thick bunches of cable connected to three areas of the gate, creating an uncanny image of Pandora's box sprouting a Medusa-like head of serpent hair. An undeniable sense of urgency drifted over the room like a dense fog.
“It's almost showtime,” Jayce said. “Just hang out here. I'll yell if I need you.” He gave me a wink and was off before I could say a word.
The flight director strolled down the main aisle, a cup of coffee in one hand and a twirling pen in the other. Stopping his twirl once in a while, he'd give the pen a few clicks and then set it in motion once again. He was a man in his early sixties, although he didn't look a day over fifty, with salt and pepper hair kept tight, cut into a flattop. His mustache was cropped to a neat and proper length as well, not too bushy or too thin. He wore thick black-framed glasses that gave him an authoritative, intellectual look. His white button down short-sleeve shirt, complete with pocket protector and a slew of spare pens, drove home the image. Jerome Reinz had been the flight director on every major flight from Earth since the Tears of Jupiter incident. There hadn't been any major ships lost since he took over. His record was flawless, and he had been the obvious choice to bring into Futura for this mission.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we've got a schedule to keep and history to make,” Reinz said as he continued down the row of terminals and operators. “I want final check status. Give me numbers.”
One by one, operators at different consoles began to rattle off figures and the status of ship and gate systems alike.
“Fuel tanks reading maximum capacity and sealed.”
“Power flow from master relay to the gate is nominal.”
“All hatches have sealed on the shuttle. Atmosphere and pressure A-OK.”
“All primary cells on the shuttle are polarized, five minutes until we have auxiliary cells charged.”
“Cara, this is Flight Director Reinz, how you doing up there?”
A view screen snapped to an internal shot of the shuttle, which had been dubbed Athena , and there Cara sat working at her console, fully outfitted in her flight suit—a slender, almost form-fitting flight suit with padded cushion at the joints and metallic blue connecting rings for the torso, helmet, gloves, and boots. “I'm good, Jerry, but I'd be doing better if we were further along.”
“We're on schedule, Cara. Don't be in such a hurry to become legend. And you can call me Jerome at least. I'm old enough to be your daddy.”
That made Cara look up and smile at the screen. My stomach clenched once again, and my lack of breath was surprising. I could see her eyes moving side to side, searching the room over. Not sure who or what she was looking for, I raised my hand shyly and gave a little wave. I must have been hard to find from her view point, hidden away in the back of the room. Nevertheless, she spotted me and she kissed her gloved hand, gently put her lips to her fingers, and gave the slightest blow toward the camera. Several of the technicians and operators looked at each other, some blushing, wondering who the lucky man in the room was.
“Alright people, listen up.” Reinz had taken his spot at the
I let my head cool for a moment while I glanced around the room. The excitement was electrifying. Checklists were being ticked off, measurements read out, switches flipped, and hundreds of keystrokes logged from consoles all around the room. My gut was clenched and twisting again.
“You're right, I'm sorry. Thanks, Jayce. I'll stay back and keep my head down.”
Jayce's face lightened into one of his grand smiles. “That will keep the gray out of my hair.”
Just then the main view screen in the center of the room snapped to a shot of the Lens shuttle docked inside the gate. All of the connections between the gate and the master relay on the colony had been made. There was a tangle of conduit and cabling running from the surface to the gate. Thick bunches of cable connected to three areas of the gate, creating an uncanny image of Pandora's box sprouting a Medusa-like head of serpent hair. An undeniable sense of urgency drifted over the room like a dense fog.
“It's almost showtime,” Jayce said. “Just hang out here. I'll yell if I need you.” He gave me a wink and was off before I could say a word.
The flight director strolled down the main aisle, a cup of coffee in one hand and a twirling pen in the other. Stopping his twirl once in a while, he'd give the pen a few clicks and then set it in motion once again. He was a man in his early sixties, although he didn't look a day over fifty, with salt and pepper hair kept tight, cut into a flattop. His mustache was cropped to a neat and proper length as well, not too bushy or too thin. He wore thick black-framed glasses that gave him an authoritative, intellectual look. His white button down short-sleeve shirt, complete with pocket protector and a slew of spare pens, drove home the image. Jerome Reinz had been the flight director on every major flight from Earth since the Tears of Jupiter incident. There hadn't been any major ships lost since he took over. His record was flawless, and he had been the obvious choice to bring into Futura for this mission.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we've got a schedule to keep and history to make,” Reinz said as he continued down the row of terminals and operators. “I want final check status. Give me numbers.”
One by one, operators at different consoles began to rattle off figures and the status of ship and gate systems alike.
“Fuel tanks reading maximum capacity and sealed.”
“Power flow from master relay to the gate is nominal.”
“All hatches have sealed on the shuttle. Atmosphere and pressure A-OK.”
“All primary cells on the shuttle are polarized, five minutes until we have auxiliary cells charged.”
“Cara, this is Flight Director Reinz, how you doing up there?”
A view screen snapped to an internal shot of the shuttle, which had been dubbed Athena , and there Cara sat working at her console, fully outfitted in her flight suit—a slender, almost form-fitting flight suit with padded cushion at the joints and metallic blue connecting rings for the torso, helmet, gloves, and boots. “I'm good, Jerry, but I'd be doing better if we were further along.”
“We're on schedule, Cara. Don't be in such a hurry to become legend. And you can call me Jerome at least. I'm old enough to be your daddy.”
That made Cara look up and smile at the screen. My stomach clenched once again, and my lack of breath was surprising. I could see her eyes moving side to side, searching the room over. Not sure who or what she was looking for, I raised my hand shyly and gave a little wave. I must have been hard to find from her view point, hidden away in the back of the room. Nevertheless, she spotted me and she kissed her gloved hand, gently put her lips to her fingers, and gave the slightest blow toward the camera. Several of the technicians and operators looked at each other, some blushing, wondering who the lucky man in the room was.
“Alright people, listen up.” Reinz had taken his spot at the
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