Beyond Sol

Chapter 1A

The motor escort raced down the road to the runway, the very runway where the Space Shuttle landed over a hundred times. Disco lights and music filled the black SUV the seven of us resided in.
"Three minutes till we arrive, everyone ready to not shit themselves on launch?" I turned to Muhammed beside me, then back to the five in the two rows of seats behind us.
"Damned right." Muhammed radioed in the helmet. The exoskeleton suits we bore were grey in colour, a sleek flexible nylon-fabric covering most of the arms, legs and hands, titanium covering the kneecaps and torso up to the neck. Our boots were made of a plastic-like material, but it was strong, very.
Our helmets were mostly made of titanium, transitioning into full pane glass around the top of our foreheads, all the way down to our lower chin, where it transferred into a flexible nylon type leather down to a metal ring that fits snugly on the neck piece of the suit.
Muhammed leaned his head on the glass to his right, watching the night sky show the first streaks of sunrise. The papi and runway lights were bright as day just a kilometre away, the Spectrum coming into view, barely.
"Ready to kick ass." Amelia read a book from her backpack.
"No ones kicking ass today." James sighed, leaning back in his seat in the very rear. Four row SUV, big, I know. I bore my Canadian flag on my left shoulder, the CSA on my right. Muhammed wore his NASRDA (Nigeria,) Amelia and Braeden with their ESA (Europe,) James and Emma showing off possibly as much patriotism as good ol' NASA. (The states, for my illiterate people.) And finally Eliza...too with CSA emblems.
"I'll kick all of your asses if you don't stop whining." I gripped my backpack, ready to leave the SUV. Amelia packed up her book in her backpack, ready to depart the SUV. The motorcade skidded to a stop on the road beside the runway, lights above flickering on.
I opened the door, stepping out. I tapped the side of my helmet, the internal flashlights on either side of my head coming to life. I grabbed my backpack, holding it with one hand. I walked around to the rear of the long SUV, popping the trunk.
I stopped, craning my neck upwards. Against the pitch black morning sky, the Cresent Moon hung, blue colony lights shimmering and flickering in light of the atmosphere. I sighed, snapping out of it.
I grabbed my two suitcases, placing them on the ground. "Everyone grab your shit, let's move." I swung my backpack onto my arms, wheeling both suitcases, waiting just at the edge of the road for the six to follow along. Men in total blackout fabric suits waited at the airstairs which stretched up about twelve feet, connecting to the ISRO airlock that sat behind the bridge and greenhouse.
The bridge was medium sized, a flat bottom that narrows up until the nose, (four metres up to 1 and a half.) The top started level with the rest of the hull, slanting downwards.
The six eventually gathered the brain cells to figure out their destination was the Spectrum. The six in their grey exoskeletons dreaded towards me. "I'd rather like to launch sooner than later." Braeden rolled his eyes, tilting his head sideways.
"We have a fixed launch time, it only matters how fast we move, not how slow." Eliza exhaled over the channel obnoxiously. We started moving towards the airstairs with the several bags and suitcases. I stopped just before the red carpet that led to the stairs. I gazed at the lines of saluting RCMP soldiers on either side of the carpet.
I sighed, dragging the two suitcases over the carpet. I passed the soldiers, reaching the end of the carpet. Scott Richards awaited at the end. He wore his recognizable suit, holding his all to familiar black NASA folder. The Beyond Sol mission patch stitched into his left chest part.
Two white circles, an arched arrow connecting the two over the top, meant to show Sol and Alpha Centauri. A bright star-like shape in the top left of the circle, representing an engine plume. Our last names bordered the edge of it, completing a full loop.
"Don't kill yourself." Scott threw up a salute, fixing his odd soldier hat, or whatever you smart people call 'em.
"I'll try my best." I threw up a salute, before lifting my suitcases up and jogging up the stairs in the flexible suit. At the top, both the interior and exterior doors were propped open, allowing free reign inside. I looked back down the stairs, Emma talking to Scott about something.
I read her lips, something about a wall and Finex industries. Odd. Never heard of them. I walked inside, a catwalk lifting off the ground. I hung a right towards Storage module one, behind the airlock module. The catwalk turned into a whitish carpet.
The room, which spanned about two metres back was decked out with white pull out storage drawers, black handles that reached out an inch, starting at your feet up to the ceiling. I pulled out one at about my chest level, slightly inclined downwards. I threw my backpack in it, pushing it back up.
I stored my small suitcases inside the two beside the drawer, proceeding to the bridge the way I came from. Emma jogged in as I passed the airlock again. "Tch, I'm busy here, stay in the storage module, help the others. There's like seventy drawers in there, don't stress it." I continued walking to the bridge, the catwalk design following through the greenhouse.
Small rectangular clay plant boxes hung from the ceiling in the greenhouse, glass making up the whole circular module. I slid open the door, revealing the boring interior. Metal floor, computer systems on the sides, yeah. The seat layout had two seats in the front, two in the middle row, and three in the back.
I'll sit in the front left, Muhammed in the front right. Eliza middle left, Amelia middle right. Braeden rear left, Emma rear centre, and James rear right. Simple enough, I think. I passed through the rear seats between Emma and Braeden's seats, through the centre of Amelia and Elizas and into mine.
I awkwardly shimmied into my seat, but I got there. I rested my soles on the rudder pedals, despite having none. Instead they controlled horizontal RCS thrusters. The main control stick resting at my stomach level when I sat tall, and a sidestick for lateral side to side movements on my left hand panel.
I had a monitor which was connected to my seat below my left armrest. It sat neck level, having an adjustable horribly welded metal stick which as aforementioned, connected to my seat. I'll say things two times for the first little bit here, then you better learn how to read!
I looked at the HUD in front of me, the screen on the centre console level with the dash, like you'd see in the annoying soccer moms in their obnoxious white SUV's. The altimeter gauges and such were old, very, very old. Just behind the four throttles was a metal nametag, SPECTRUM, PROPERTY OF THE SOL CORPS. Right...the annoying Sol Corps. They call themselves a branch of the military, but they're more just space port security, you'll see them come up a lot later on.
I looked around for the battery startup until I found it on the centre console, side by side with my four throttle levers. I pushed down on the square, black button. A light below the abbreviation BTRY flickered to a orange colour, the monitors and screens coming to life, defaultly presenting the NASA logo, eventually switching to the Beyond Sol program menu screens, the orange light turning green.
The lighting system shuddered, although the bridge remained dark. "AETHER, what's up?" I used the keyboard and mouse pad that folded out from the monitor to navigate to the start up procedure. Okay, find the APU, where is it? There! I started the APU, something back in the engineering bay whirring, almost like a plane engine.
"Good morning, Carter. Have you passed your quarantine test today?" AETHER, the onboard AI asked to confirm.
"Mhm. Let's get movin' and groovin' AETHER!" I looked around for the NAV and Floodlights. I craned my neck upwards for a moment, christ. I mean, how many switches and buttons can you put in one ceiling? Simulators were nothing like this, man. I grabbed the radio mounted on the roof, pulling it down, connected by a coiled up wire.
I clicked it on, bringing it up to my mo- Oh. I let it retract back up, before turning in my seat. Three hoses dangled on the back of my right armrest, ready to connect. I opened the three entry ports on my back/hip, patching myself into the ship. The air pressure temporarily blew out, backfilled by the new attachments.
I turned back, then down to my wrist watch on the suit...more part of the suit I guess? I connected to the NASA ATC line. "Knock knock a-holes." I found the core startup switch, lifting the red plastic cover up, pushing the slider forward.
"Language. How you doing on start-up procedures, what's your minions doing?" Mike Kingsley, the director of the Beyond Sol program responded, unfazed by the important day.
"Battery is good to go, APU's warming up, core is in start-up...I think the others are screwing around on SM1, I guess they like the pull-outs." I pushed the throttles forward then back swiftly, the radon fed core firing to life, slowly whirring up to a nice 65 decibels.
"10-4, proceed with startups. Get your crew strapped in, no fatalities today, especially today."
"Kay...I mean, copy." I looked down at my start-up procedure on my lap on a clipboard, brown masonite wearing out. "Stop effing around in there, it's 5 AM for christ sakes." I pulled back the tiny lever on my left hand panel, the fuel pressure releasing gently.
The fuel gauge in front of me under a shadow type thing on the dash jumped up, a hiss of air flowing through the tiny but huge ship. Okay...let's see. "Hey, dicks, Mike wants you in the bridge." I repeated myself, laying my head back into the fabric-leather seat, the black of night hanging outside motionlessly.