Test Pilot

Test Pilot

John H. Carroll

Copyright 2009 John H. Carroll

Revised 2011 John H. Carroll

Cover image Copyright 2010 John H. Carroll

Cover font - “Cyberpunk Is Not Dead” by Aurelius.

This story is dedicated to the emo bunnies who would like very much to ride in a spaceship.

“Who named this place ‘Moonbase City’?  That’s a stupid name for a place even if it is a city on the moon.  If The Company let me name it, we’d have a good name like . . . Godiva GlowCity, or .  .  .  Batcave City or something cool like that.”  Captain Gregg Johnson sipped on his coffee as he stared at the private who had come to escort him to the spaceport.  They were waiting for the tram to take them there.

“I don’t know, Sir,” the blonde private replied nervously.  He was obviously intimidated by the captain’s reputation.  Either that or the Captain’s eyes were freaking the man out.  Gregg’s irises were a metallic blue, and the whites were silver.  He didn’t know what the doctors had done to them.  It was complicated.

“Well, it doesn’t matter to me what they named the city.  Whatever.  Not my job.”  He ran fingers through his curly black hair.

“Yes, Sir.”  The private saluted.

“Why in the world do officers need people to salute them?” Gregg demanded in irritation, his already deep voice lowering an octave into a growl.  “I have my job and I do it.  I let others do their jobs.  It doesn’t make me or them any better than the other.”  He pointed a finger in the private’s face.  The man looked ready to wet himself.  “Let me tell you, if I had my way, I’d get rid of ranks.  They are unnecessary and stupid.  Everyone should just do their jobs and get on with it.”  He shook his head and waved his hand as if swatting the thought out of the air.  “Whatever.  That’s not my job either.”

The tram whooshed to a halt in front of them and the doors slid open.  A woman’s pleasant voice greeted them through unseen speakers.  “Welcome to your Moonbase City Tram.  Please come aboard.”

They boarded and sat down on seats facing each other.  There were a few other workers on board who were talking to each other, reading or just staring out the window.  A woman a few seats up was in the middle of a holographic video chat with a family member back on Earth.

“The Company just isn’t good at naming things.”  The captain continued the conversation.  It was important for privates to learn about these things.  “Don’t get me wrong, ever since The Company secretly bypassed governments and made their own space program, technology has been expanding at an extraordinary rate.”

Gregg leaned back and watched as the tram left the safety of Moonbase City and zipped along the tracks to the spaceport.  It was a smooth ride.  “Grav-shields are a good example.  They keep us at full Earth gravity and also prevent us from feeling rapid speed increases and decreases.  It’s why this tram is so comfortable.  ‘Grav-shields’ is a stupid name for them though.  They don’t really shield us from anything.  They should be called ‘inertia-barriers’ or ‘no-movement-thingies’ or . . . something.  Whatever.  Not my job.”

“I love looking at the Earth from here,” the private said, gazing through the upper window of the tram at the half-full planet above them.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.  I never get tired of the sight,” Gregg agreed.  “Now, don’t interrupt me, son.  As I was saying, I’d talk to whoever’s in charge, but no one knows who runs The Company or even how it started.”  He chuckled in amusement.  “I’d call it something besides ‘The Company’.  That’s a stupid name.  But they don’t ask my opinion about these things.”  He sat back and rested his arms over the back of the seat.  “Whatever.  Not my job.”