Last Flight For Craggy (10 page)

'Rocky
Ramshorn, reporting for duty.'

'At ease,
Ramshorn,' said Dillow, keeping her face straight.

'I'll leave you
two to become acquainted,' said Angus with a “good luck” wink at
Dillow, and then he walked away.

Dillow studied
the rookie. He was tall; slightly taller than she was. He looked as
if he had endeavoured to add muscle to a naturally lean frame, and
not quite succeeded. She put the serious expression down to his
nervousness at finally being able to put his intensive training to
good use.

'So. Ramshorn.
Completed your basic training.'

'Yes, Captain.
Top of my class.'

'Score in the
simulator?'

'A ninety two
average,' said the rookie, proudly.

'Excellent.'
She had only managed an eighty five average. She would keep that to
herself.

Ramshorn was
staring at the pods. 'Any idea what's in them?'

'Not a clue.
Does it matter?'

'I guess not.
Where's the ship?'

'Having a final
check over. We'll fly her over to pick up the pods in the morning.
Can you cook?'

It wasn't a
question he was expecting. 'I live alone, so I have to cook. Can't
live just on Base cooking.'

'So true. How
old are you, Ramshorn?'

'Nearly
twenty.'

'How
nearly?'

'Err. I was
nineteen three months ago.'

'Close enough.'
Dillow already felt like the kid's big sister. Jeez. She wasn't far
off being old enough to be the rookie's mother. 'Excited?'

'Are you
kidding me? A trip to Mars?'

'It can get a
little tedious, you know?'

Ramshorn stared
at Dillow in disbelief. The old ship had recorded the adventure of
Dillow and Craggy saving the pods and ship, and that was now used
as part of the training. With a brand new freighter, how could a
trip to Mars be anything but exciting?

Space Security
Commander Lance Dillow sat with a fixed expression at his ship's
computers. The ship was still on its pad on Moon. He was with his
top technical officer, Wendy Breeze. She was an attractive but
dumpy brown-haired girl in her early twenties, and a wizz in the
world of surveillance.

'Lance. What
we're doing is possibly illegal.'

'I'll take
possibly over definitely. Breezy. You heard some of the stuff we
picked up on in Earth orbit. The solar storms prevented us getting
the full picture, but what we did hear, wasn't good.'

'I could get in
serious trouble, spying on Westmont.'

Dillow said,
'Who with? I'm your boss, so not me. The Earth? They're too busy
dying down there. Besides, I believe this falls under my
jurisdiction and I quote, “to promote and maintain the security and
safety of all people in space and on all established space
bases”.

'Nothing about
Earth in that remit.'

'True. And I
may be taking a few legal liberties, but in my view, if anything on
Earth could be threatening the security and safety of the rest of
us, I think we should know about it, don't you?'

'Okay. We're at
the best position to listen in. Are you sure you want to eavesdrop
on Fargo Wells himself?'

'In for a
penny, in for a pound.'

'In for a
what?'

'In for
a...never mind. A really old Earth saying. Come on, Breezy. Work
your magic.'

The entire wall
was a screen. On the screen was a view of the Earth. The swirling
familiar blue was not as it used to be.

The oceans were
still blue, though not as vibrant as before. The combination of
overfishing, too many crude oil accidents, pollution, nuclear
fallout, had all but destroyed it. The green of the rainforests was
almost gone. Extensive deforestation had ruined the lungs of the
planet beyond the point of recovery. The rainfall was unpredictable
and uncontrollable. Where the mighty rivers once flowed, sad
trickles barely made it to the sea.

Over ninety
percent of the wildlife alive at the start of the twenty first
century, had been wiped out near the end of that same century. And
those supposed to be the guardians were determined to strangle the
last breath from the world.

Breeze said,
'Think he'll be at Westmont?'

'Him and a few
thousand mostly useless, worthless individuals who would have no
idea what a hard days work meant.'

'Not on your
best friends list, I take it. Getting through the mountain is
impossible, which is why it was chosen in the first place.'

Westmont was
the refuge for a select few thousand. It was inside and deep
underneath an extinct volcano, safe from any type of attack, and
self sufficient in food and water in the excavated caverns deep in
the ground. Every morsel and drop was strictly rationed. All people
were underweight, barely shells of what they should be.

Children were
prohibited to the number the city could support. The population was
dwindling and becoming unsustainable. In the crater of the mountain
were the communication dishes and a handful of satellites afforded
unreliable communication between the West settlements. Those not
considered good enough for the shelter of Westmont were mostly left
to fend for themselves in patchy tribes, existing on their wits,
often clashing in bloody battles with similar tribes of the
East.

It was those
privileged ones in Westmont, Breeze homed in on. It was a garble of
several messages going off at once. It took all of Breeze's digital
dexterity to tune out what she didn't want.

'Let's try this
one.'

Something
crackled unpleasantly and a croaky voice was saying, '...eleven
hours. Supposed to be without a pilot. Your priority is to get the
marsillium here. We'll convert it.'

Another voice
piped up. 'When does the old steelworks arrive?'

'Don't be
stupid. There is no steelworks. They just think there is.'

'But I thought
the idea was to supply them with a steelworks in exchange for the
marsillium?'

'Not going to
happen. Think about it. How the hell were we supposed to get a
whole steelworks together? Those type of skills are all but
gone.'

'They'll be
more than a little annoyed with us when the empty ship
returns.'

'And that's
what I called about. President Wells and I are in accord. Get us
the marsillium and your job is done. Disable the ship, not
permanently; just enough so it won't take off. They'll assume some
technical problem, so they won't know we conned them.'

'And
if...then...I'll ...later.'

'Lost them,'
said Breeze, fighting the controls.

'Sons of
bitches,' growled Dillow. 'We've been robbed. You keep listening
in. Make me a copy of that. I'm off to see Commander Forbes. He
needs to know this.'

Forbes listened
to the recording three times without interruption. 'We've been
stitched up. I knew things were bad, but not this bad.'

Lance Dillow
said, 'I don't get this marsillium thing. What's that about? I'm no
scientist, but I thought that stuff was just a fireproof material.
Capable of withstanding incredible heat.'

'So did I.
We've been experimenting on making even better spray on coatings
with it. We have the latest version of it on that new ship.'

'You won't get
that back, by the sound of it,' said Dillow, sourly.

'That stinks.
They clearly won't use it. They haven't the skills to turn it into
a missile. If they were thinking of coming here in that ship,
bringing their diseases, you have my blessing to blast them
straight to hell. If the lying shits aren't supplying us that laser
powered steelworks, they could at least do the decent thing and
send the ship back to us.'

Lance Dillow
was saying, 'I'd love to know what was really ...' when there came
a knock on the office door.

'Enter,' said
Forbes.

A breathless
Wendy Breeze entered, her helmet under her arm. 'Commanders. Sorry
to interrupt.'

'Out with it,
Breezy,' said Forbes.

'The West plan
to make a weapon out of the marsillium to wipe out the East, once
and for all.'

'Idiots,' said
Forbes. 'Marsillium isn't weapon material. A possible protection
from attack with its heat resistant properties, but not as a
weapon.'

'On its own, I
agree, Sir. Even used as an extreme heat shield it's stable. But
they've found when it mixes with something else, it's six times
more powerful than equivalent hydrogen isotope weapons.'

Dillow said,
'Right. Wow. But it hasn't any radioactive properties.'

'That's the
point,' said Breeze. 'It has incredible explosive properties,
without any radioactive fall out. They can totally destroy the East
cities, without poisoning the land. Then the West can take it over
and free their people to grow enough food.'

Forbes said,
'Jeez. Any idea what they intend to mix the marsillium with?'

'Hydrogen
isotope. That's not the weapon by itself, but a relatively small
amount of the isotope in combination with the marsillium, when
ignited with a small nuclear trigger, takes the marsillium beyond
its equilibrium, at which point it becomes unstable and...boom. Big
time.'

'Stay right
here, Breezy. Take a seat,' said Forbes, before putting out an
urgent call to Stella. They waited an anxious eleven minutes for
her to get to the office. Forbes told her to sit before
continuing.

'Is there a
problem with the ship, Sir?'

'Not that we're
aware of, Stella,' Forbes assured her. 'But we do have a problem.
The West have found a way of turning marsillium into a weapon. We
have to stop them. Can we get our ship back here, before it
lands?'

Forbes, Dillow
and Breeze were holding their collective breath.

'Any idea where
the ship is at the moment? Still the other side of Earth?'

'Yes,' said
Dillow. 'Is that a problem?'

'One of many.
It isn't a question of distance, but anything obstructing the
signal, like a planet, will make controlling it from here
impossible.'

Forbes said,
'By my reckoning, it should be coming from behind Earth in about
eighty minutes. If you got a signal, can you change the course of
the ship and get it back here?'

'In theory. We
had limited success in our trials overriding the programmed
commands. It was something we were going to sort out once the ship
had returned. The ship performed at one hundred percent going
through the original programming.'

'But we have a
shot at it?' asked Forbes, hopefully.

'During the
simulated trials there were instances when we just sent the ship
spinning out of control. Because the ship is getting closer to the
Earth's gravitational pull, any slight deviation from the
programmed course, could send it crashing into the Earth.'

'Damn it,'
snapped Forbes, slapping his desk with the palm of his hand. 'I
want that ship back here, and in one piece.'

Dillow asked,
'Stella. Is there any other way?'

'Well...' said,
Stella, 'No. Not possible.'

'Stella?'
Dillow insisted.

'The ship has a
manual override. Hence the seat. But we would have to have a pilot
sitting in it.'

'Crap!' said
Forbes.

Breeze chipped
in. 'Sir. We have a fast freighter ready to go. Perhaps we could
catch the ship with it. Take it over.'

'The Mars run
freighter?' said Forbes.

Dillow said,
'Wait a minute. That's my daughter's ship.'

'Then we need
to talk to your daughter,' said Forbes.

'All set?'

'Yes, Captain
Dillow.' said Rocky Ramshorn. Sitting in the freighter was a whole
lot different to the simulator. At least the controls were the ones
he was familiar with.

'Rocky. This
will be a very long flight if you keep calling me Captain Dillow.
It's kinda traditional just to use last names. Dillow,
Ramshorn.'

'I...I prefer
Rocky.'

'I can see how
you would. Dillow, Rocky. Or Ramshorn if you piss me off. Right.
Time to get this bird over to the cradle for the pods.'

Dillow's hands
waved mysteriously over the non touch controls. There was the
slightest kick as the the plasma thrusters fired up. Smoothly and
silently, the ship lifted off the grey moon dust. It was a short
trip to the pad in front of the cradle. Angus guided her to the
exact spot. The ramp swung out and Dillow and Ramshorn walked down
it to meet Angus.

'You guys ready
to do this?' said Angus. He was a formidable looking man in his
forties. He had been born on Earth in Scotland, and although he had
left Earth when he was seven, he proudly lived up to a stereotype
of what he imagined a Scotsman should be like. His red hair was
wild and unkempt, and somewhere under a dense undergrowth of hair,
was a face. His accent was so heavily cultivated only his father
could understand him completely. Everyone else took their best
guess at anything he said.

Dillow said,
'Ready as you are.'

'Right. We have
four pods. We have better locks now, but you still need to control
them. As soon as the last pod is in place, you can go.'

'Okay.'

'Give me ten
minutes to get in the grabber cab and we'll get going.'

'Thanks, Angus.
See you in seven months time. '

They were about
to go back up the ramp when a voice called out.

'Hey. Dillow.
You wouldn't go off to Mars without saying goodbye, would you?'

'Craggy. You
came to see me off?'

'Of course.
Just wanted to wish you all the best. I'd have been here sooner,
but I had my arm stuck down a bloody toilet S bend.'

'Glad we didn't
shake hands.'

'Who is
this?'

'Rocky
Ramshorn. My copilot.'

'Damn. They're
getting younger by the day. So, you're off to Mars, son?'