Acid Sky (7 page)

Shaffer lowered his binoculars and looked down at the weather radar.

‘Come round to two six five.’

‘Two six five, roger.’ The tower controller spoke briefly to the control room, requesting a course change, and a few moments later Clare could see the nose of the
Langley
, silhouetted against the pale light of dawn, move a fraction to the left and steady out.

‘Tower, Deck Ops. Umbilical disconnected, all covers closed, aircraft is clear to release.’

Shaffer checked the flight deck and the spaceplane one more time.

‘Ready trim, aft.’

‘Control, Tower. Standby trim change, forward.’

‘Control room, ready to trim forward.’

Clare couldn’t see the
Langley’s
forward control surfaces in the half-light, but she knew they would be moving, continuously adjusting the centre of lift to keep the carrier steady and trimmed. Slower than this, tonnes of ballast was waiting to be pumped into the forward tanks, ready to rebalance the carrier when the huge mass of the fully loaded spaceplane lifted off from the deck.

‘One Four Nine, you are disconnected and ready for release. Report when ready for takeoff.’

Shaffer looked at the weather radar display again, gauging the winds. ‘Come right two degrees.’

‘Right two degrees, roger.’

‘Ready launch checklist!’ Shaffer barked out the command. ‘Weather!’

‘Go.’

‘Air traffic!’

‘Clear all round.’

‘Orbital climb!’

‘Go.’

‘Trim!’

‘Ready.’

‘Deck Ops!’

‘Clear.’

As Shaffer called out the last checks, Clare could feel the mounting tension in the room. Outside, the pale rose of dawn was spreading up the western sky, and the deck of the carrier was becoming visible, outlined by the brilliant lines of deck lighting.

The spaceplane’s elevons and rudders cycled through their control movements; up, down, left, right, as the crew checked the control surfaces for full and free movement.

‘One Four Nine, ready for takeoff.’
Hartigan’s voice came over the speakers.

‘Begin shallow dive, eight degrees.’

‘Eight degrees dive, roger.’

Clare felt the giant carrier start to pitch down, the nose dropping against the lightening horizon. She caught hold of one of the window surrounds to hold herself against the tilt of the deck.

Shaffer took one last glance all around.

‘Clear takeoff.’

‘One Four Nine, clear for takeoff. Left turn after takeoff, heading two three zero, clear orbital climb to three four zero kilometres. Orbit inclination minus zero four zero, insertion point Charlie One at zero six five two Zulu for rendezvous with Space Tug One Eight Indianapolis.’

Clare heard Hartigan’s co-pilot read the clearance back. There was a pause while they ran through the final checks, then the spaceplane’s wing spoilers lowered and its four engine nozzles opened wide. Four fat blue flames stabbed out in the darkness as the engines wound up to full afterburning thrust. The spaceplane strained against the hold down clamps, trying to fly. The landing lights came on, illuminating the deck in a fan of white light, signalling that Hartigan was ready to go.

‘Shoot!’ The tower controller barked out the command, and Clare’s stomach swooped as the giant carrier lifted its huge spoiler panels, disrupting the airflow over the wings. The carrier started to fall out of the sky, and at the same moment, the hold down clamps flew open. The spaceplane lifted smoothly into the air, and Clare saw the thrust vectoring nozzles glow red-hot as they angled to move the heavy craft up and away over the flight deck.

A thunder of engines buffeted the control tower as the spaceplane banked to the left and started to climb, a dark shape against the dawn. The four flames from its afterburners went out abruptly, and then it was dwindling, disappearing into the south-west sky.

‘One Four Nine, positive climb.’

‘Orbital One Four Nine, you are clear of carrier, maintain heading two three zero, clear orbital climb. Contact Space Tug Indianapolis on X band, have a good day.’

‘Maintain two three zero, clear orbital climb, contact Indianapolis on X band, Orbital One Four Nine. Thanks, see you again soon.’

Clare watched the winking navigation lights of the departing spaceplane as it dwindled into the distance. She had liked and respected Hartigan; he was a good commanding officer and the last year had passed quickly. Now she was on her own. For a moment, she had a strange sense of her old life departing, and she shivered, although it was warm in the control tower.

‘Okay, they’re away safely. Level out and retrim, climb to cruise when ready,’ Shaffer said, lowering his binoculars.

The tower controller spoke to the control room, and the giant spoiler panels on the carrier’s wings lowered. The carrier levelled off and began to climb, the roar of its engines increasing.

‘Well, lieutenant, what do you think?’ Shaffer turned to Clare and grinned. ‘Did you know, one of the first designs for these carriers was an
airship
. Makes me shudder to think what spaceplane takeoffs would have been like.’

‘Fascinating to watch. Thank you, sir.’

Shaffer nodded. ‘That’s the biggest launch we ever do from here. The smaller aircraft don’t need anything like that, we just stay straight and level and watch the trim.’ He glanced at the situation display for a moment, watching the increasing height, and then turned to the tower controller. ‘I think we can turn down the deck lighting, we’re not doing any more flying for a couple of hours.’

‘Yes sir.’ Outside, the lines of white and yellow lights faded, and Clare realised that she could see the carrier in the dawn. She looked into the west, and there on the edge of the planet was a curve of red, the upper edge of the rising Sun. It grew as she watched, emerging from the layers of cloud and haze on the planet’s horizon, turning the banks of high haze a vivid crimson. It looked spectacular, and Clare wished she were out there, flying amongst the clouds.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll be out there soon.’ Shaffer seemed to be reading her thoughts. ‘Take it easy today, and report to the medical officer at zero nine hundred tomorrow morning. If she passes you as fit to fly, you can collect your equipment from stores and report to the ready room at fourteen hundred tomorrow for flight training.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Clare smiled happily, and turned to go.

‘Oh, and Foster.’

‘Sir?’

‘It’s going to be me doing the training, so don’t be late.’

CHAPTER FIVE

Clare walked down the three flights of stairs that led down from the tower. The roar of air was very loud here; it thundered and buffeted around the metal walls of the tower structure. At the bottom of the second flight there was one small window, which looked out directly across the
Langley’s
flight deck, and she stopped to peer out. In the growing daylight, she could see the two arresting cables strung across the landing area, and the glowing beads of the deck lighting.

She continued on down the stairs, descending into the structure of the right wing, and along a narrow corridor that led along inside the wing, to emerge in the main corridor. She suddenly felt hungry, and she glanced at her watch. The breakfast service would have started by now. She turned right, and headed back towards the front of the ship, and the galley.

She had just started eating when Coombes came up and set down his tray opposite her. Cutlery clattered as he sat down.

Light streamed into the galley from the sweep of windows that looked out onto the blue morning sky. The
Langley
had taken up position again at sixty-one kilometres altitude, ready for a day of flight operations.

‘Morning.’ Coombes held up his glass of orange juice to her. ‘How was the launch?’

‘Great. Had a good view from the tower.’

‘I bet you did. I heard the flight leave. Did you sleep okay?’

‘Went out like a light.’ She waved her spoon over the bowl of oatmeal she was eating. ‘This is really good.’

‘Considering where we are, the food’s excellent. We’d never tell the catering officer that, though,’ he grinned.

Clare looked round. The galley was filling up. She had been one of the first here, but now the line stretched back out of the door, and the catering staff were busily filling plates as the line moved past the serving stations.

Coombes dumped milk onto his cereals. ‘Listen, I’ve been assigned to take you on a tour. You can’t fly until tomorrow, so it’s a good time to see round the ship.’

‘Hey, that’d be great. All I’ve seen so far is the hangar and the captain’s stateroom. And here.’

‘Nothing wrong with that.’ Coombes glanced over his shoulder, at the view of the sky and clouds. ‘Best restaurant view in the solar system, if you ask me.’

‘What, better than seeing Jupiter from Callisto?’

Coombes smiled. ‘You been there?’

She shook her head. ‘As a newly qualified pilot? That’s a five year tour, with three years spent in stasis. I don’t fancy losing that much of my life so early on.’

‘Think of all those bonuses. And a promotion to captain when you get back.’

‘Yeah. Guess it would suit some people.’ She didn’t sound convinced, and there was a brief pause in conversation. She looked upwards. ‘Must make quite a noise in here during flight ops.’ The galley was directly under the flight deck, just in front of the deck elevator.

‘It’s not too bad – the Frigates don’t make too much noise even if they miss the wire and do a bolter. Spaceplanes though – if one of those misses a trap, you’ll know about it. Forty-plus tonnes of spaceplane going over on full afterburner is going to break a few plates.’

Clare nodded. It had all passed in a flash for her, but she could still see the impossibly short flight deck in front of her, feel the sudden, brutal grab of the wire, and the sense of relief as they rolled to a halt just before the deck elevator.

‘Was yesterday your first time?’ Coombes asked.

‘Yup.’

‘Not bad for a rookie.’ He ripped a roll apart and started spreading it with butter. ‘How did you find it?’

‘Fast. Everything seemed to happen much faster than in the simulator. Do you do any flying yourself?’

‘No, only as a passenger. But the landings scare the shit out of me. I don’t know how you guys do it, day in, day out.’

‘Well I’ve only done one so far. Let’s hope I don’t screw up the next few, otherwise it’ll be a short tour.’ She sat back, coffee mug in hand, and took an appreciative sip. It was fabulous to be able to drink good coffee again, at full atmospheric pressure, so that the water boiled at the right temperature.

Coombes glanced at her. ‘You’ll be fine.’

You could tell she was the dedicated type, he thought. But who wasn’t, who had made it this far? USAC training didn’t recognise the word ‘mediocre’. Either you made the grade, or you weren’t in the Corps at all.

‘How many tours have you done here?’ she asked.

‘Me? This is my second. I did thirteen months on the
Wright
at the end of my training, and I’m fifteen months in on a long-bonus tour this time.’

‘Will you apply for a third?’

‘Already have. I don’t think they’ll let me do another one, though – they’re hinting that my career will be advantaged by Mars, and two years of forecasting dust storms.’ He made a wry face.

‘You’re not looking forward to it?’

‘Not really. I’m sure it’ll be different when I’m there. But here …’ he waved his hand in the air. ‘Blue sky, no need for a full pressure suit, ninety percent gravity – you can kid yourself you’re back on Earth.’ He drained his coffee and stood up. ‘Do you know where the main control room is?’

‘Yeah - I saw it last night. Next to the captain’s staterooms.’

‘That’s the place. I’ve got a couple of things I need to do first – I’ll see you outside there in an hour.’

Clare went back to her cabin after breakfast, mug of coffee in hand, and replied to a couple of mails that had come in during the night. She also sent a message to her parents, telling them about her promotion. Her father would be proud, she knew, and her words were chiefly addressed to him. She wasn’t so certain about how her mother would greet the news; she had never really approved of Clare’s career choice.
Waste of a good education
, she had said on the day that Clare had applied to the Academy. Well, if her mother could see her now, she might change her mind.

Clare hit
SEND
and got up to go.

She made her way forward, past the rows of cabin doors, and then down the forward stairs to the lower deck. Compared to the deck above, which was nearly all cabin space, it was narrower here, with just a single corridor running the length of the deck. Here at the forward end of the ship were the various electronics and communications rooms, and a steady hum of electrical equipment came from behind various locked doors.

Coombes was waiting for her at the end of the corridor, outside the security door to the main control room, and he tapped a code into the keypad to let them in.

It took Clare’s eyes a few moments to get used to the subdued lighting inside. The
Langley
was not commanded from the air control tower, as many people back on Earth thought, but here, from the front of the ship. The control room was set under the foremost end of the flight deck, which shaded it from the Sun above, and had a magnificent view of the sky below and ahead of the ship. Six officers and crew sat at control consoles, facing a sweep of windows that looked forward and to either side. The windows, like all those aboard the
Langley
, had darkened and polarised automatically to reduce the glare from the clouds below.