Beyond Sol

Chapter 4D

Mike Kingsley and Scott Richards marched down the tight hallways of a cruiser, docked to the coastline of the base, along with its fleet. Phoenix. They marched into a control operations room, a long glass table stretched the room, 28 of the 30 chairs filled.
Scott sat in the chair at the end of the table closest to the door, Mike marching to the end. The room was serious, 130 inch TV's lining the wall, three on the long sides of the rectangular room, one on the ends. They displayed maps, statistics. But the main screen—behind Mike, usually displayed the Beyond Sol stats, altitude—from the closest celestial body, speed, engine and core temperatures, pressure, anything that mattered.
The engineers trembled, scientists bit their nails, safety inspectors scared shitless. It wasn't even a question that they were fired—or about to be prosecuted.
"Would anyone care to explain?" Mike spoke, the same voice as when you snuck out from home when you were sixteen.
"T-T-The Spectrum vanished off radar w-w-when they were aerobraking." One spoke near the end of the table.
"Great, you know, get the fuck out. I will personally send you back to your creator if you aren't gone by dawn. Anyone else?"
Another raised a hand, dumbfuck. "T-The Spectrums warp drive had a spike of energy before it vanished...we think that it might be in transit right now." -Dumbfuck said.
He got up and left, not needing Mike to explain. That was it. Scott fired up the projector in the centre of the glass table with a press of a button on a pad infront of him. A display of the Neptunian system came up. Scott held a button down on the pad, the clock on the top of the projection rewinding slowly. He stopped at 09:28 (EST.)
On the pad he typed in something.
SPECTRUM0001, it read. The projection zoomed into a little model Spectrum, the four nuclear engines blasting a green trail behind into the clouds. The room went quiet, the audio speakers now playing the recorded bridge audio. The TV's on the walls having the interior bridge cameras as well.
"Yeah, no shit." I swiped away the anomaly alert. Two of the four engines failed on the projection, the green blast transitioning into a hydrogen orange flame. I had pushed the throttle forward on the screens, before back and forward again, initiating the hydrogen engines.
The black and white televisions showed the nine HUDS and screens in the front row flashing with warnings, outside the static lighting reaching out of the hull, the lights going dark, the glimpse of the skies of crater world (yes, that's its new name,) flashing out for a millisecond.
Being at two places at once. What happened after, they'll find out in six hundred years. And just like that, the Spectrum was gone. One hundred twenty billion dollars down the drain, not including fuel or electric costs.
Scott shut down the projection. 'FEED LOST,' the screens read. "Safety, what happened?" Mike asked,
"W-We don't know, sir." The leader said, looking down.
"Great, all six of you, I don't ever wanna see your faces again." One banged their fist on the table, shattering the whole thing. He ran out. "H-Hey! You're paying for that!" Mike looked down on his lap full of glass, shaking his head.

The six of us ducked underneath the metal bars in the greenhouse, walking out. Turns out James hadn't ever been military, and took the nerd option instead. Got a STEM PhD and applied. Mr. Smartass then got accepted for being a smartass.
The guns were slung on our backs. We bore EVA's, just casually on our morning stroll through the alien planet that's about to kill us. Totally normal right? It wasn't long before we had ventured a few kilometres out. The sky was littered with flying creatures, nothing on land—yet.
"So where are we going?" James asked, in the middle of our 'bundle'
"Nowhere. Until we find something that can help us. Preferably rubber, or steel." I pushed a branch out of the way, walking past, the leaves crunching underneath my EVA.
"I get the steel part—but why rubber? There's no critical systems that make us non-airworthy that need rubber...BUH!" Amelia was wacked in the helmet with the branch. It hit Muhammed after. This is gonna be fun. One by one without knowing they hit their heads on pine branch. I rolled on the dirt ground, laughing my heavenly ass off.
"Asshole." Emma flipped me off, before proceeding into the lush environment. I eventually stopped, and no—I did not trip over a stick and land on my helmet.
I didn't. Okay?
Once we were back together, we just kept on walking. "So. Where do we find rubber? Isn't it man made?" Eliza asked, fiddling with a massive branch.
"No. I mean—to turn it into rubber I think. But it comes from trees. Something in South America." I pushed my way through a bush.
"My question has yet to be answered, dick." Amelia then pushed her way through.
"Half of each ring is crumpled, it's been flattened. The ECOS can pull it up, use rubber to make something similar to a weather balloon. Blow it up until we completely repair the hull. It'll keep it from collapsing again," I said, continuing on my merrily way.
"If only that'd work." Muhammed pushing through.
"Course it would. Why not?" I sighed.
"It wouldn't hold pressure, the hull, I mean. Too many sharp edges and holes. Same as when you pinch a pop can, sides are sharp and have holes."
"Muhammed hasn't heard of sandpaper guys." James snicked.
"Have fun with that." He skipped ahead, excited to push his way through another bush. He slipped through, gone.
"He's like a child." Emma chuckled. We snuck through the leaves and branches that had way too much overgrowth. The yellow, stone wall up ahead came into view. But even more, a whistle. A whirl of blades, a whistle of jet engines. It came from somewhere over the wall.
"Anyone else hear that?" I flicked open the visor, the noise considerably louder. Almost deafening.
"The hell is it?" Muhammed covered his ears, or tried to. The flock above had cleared and dived into the forest that ended just a few hundred yards ago. Emma and Eliza almost immediately unslung, aiming just above the wall.
"Don't know, but I'd rather it be dead than us," Eliza focused on the wall, better not sneeze. A helicopter blade started to appear over the wall, not spinning fast, but damn, it was big. It blowed dust and rocks off the wall with ease. A second one. Part of the same vehicle, and then the bridge—or body of the craft came over.
It was a quad-copter, although as big as the Spectrum, and at least twenty metres wide. It's peach sand stone colour blended in perfectly with the wall, making it almost invisible. Although it became clear soon, it was only an escort.
A silver metal object soon came over, atleast three times as big. Blades replaced by massive jet engines. Turrets mounted just about everywhere on its body, five on the belly, and one visible from our perspective on the front top.
Tens of VTOL smaller jets flying alongside the two. It was a military convoy, one that could reign terror. "What the fuck is that!" Muhammed shouted, although his voice just a whisper against the blades and jets. It was as if it was beside you, but these were at least half a click away.