Space Chronicles The Beginning

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

He lay there sweating in the stifling heat of an August desert night, thinking about his upcoming mission. Death is a constant companion here. You spend endlessly boring days and nights waiting, anticipating--the eventual fate of combat. To be or not to be? He didn't want to die, but it was a possibility that could not be escaped. He had seen his buddies go down, and there was nothing he could do about it.

But this is not his cot. Where is his tent? The eyes are all wrong. They are too large and totally black like those of sharks. What do they want? He remembered the bright light, blinding, penetrating his cockpit. He couldn't make out what kind of enemy craft had overtaken his. It was too fast, too maneuverable. What do they want?

Am I dead? Is this purgatory? Why are they sticking needles into me? They speak in an unfamiliar language that sounds more like cricket chirps. What are they talking about? Are they talking about me? Why me?

###

Martin Vincent Sinclair entered NASA's D.C. headquarters with both excitement and trepidation. He was excited about being back in the saddle again, going back out there in manned flight, but he was concerned that management would consider him too old for the rigors of outer space. It had been five long years since his last mission and that was just a trip up on Atlantis to supply the International Space Station and remove their garbage. Where's the excitement in that? He yearned for a more challenging assignment like a trip to Mars or Io. He sure as hell wasn't getting any younger and he was afraid that he was losing his edge. All he wanted was one more adventure, one more glory day out there in the final frontier.

Unfortunately, he would have to share that glory with his partner, Angelina Marie Sarasota, a woman, no less. Not that he had a problem with women, but it had taken him a long time to accept political correctness and swallow his male pride. NASA didn't discriminate, and many women had entered the astronaut program. There was no reason to be a combat pilot in order to qualify.

Angie wasn't any ordinary woman, though. She had risen up through Air Force ranks to become a B-2 pilot, fly combat missions in Iraq and Afghanistan, and command a bomber wing. After joining NASA, she piloted three shuttle missions, one as commander. She was quite capable of exploring space. It's just that he yearned for the good old days when men were men and women were-- Oh well, no use going there now.

He envied her accomplishments despite the fact that he had flown twenty-five combat missions in an YF-22 and had piloted four shuttle missions and commanded the last Orion mission to the moon. She had risen through Air Force ranks much faster than he and had been awarded the Silver Cross for her last combat mission, having saved her crew's lives by piloting a severely damaged plane back safely.

He really couldn't complain. He knew that he could depend on her to come through when the going gets tough. She pulled a shuttle mission from certain disaster when she averted a computer shutdown malfunction upon reentry, flying the bird manually to a perfect landing.

Besides, she was easy on the eyes. Always in top shape, she had short jet-black hair complimenting a classically beautiful face. Her expressive dark eyes were mesmerizing and her luscious lips, inviting, so much so that he had to keep reminding himself that theirs was a professional relationship.

He had had enough of relationships. Two divorces helped with that conclusion. What's worse is that he has a son and daughter, neither of which he has seen in three years. His parenting skills weren't much better than his husbandly abilities. Oh well, that's life.

###

Marty was noticed the minute he entered NASA headquarters.

"Marty, ol' buddy, what the hell are you doing in this den of thieves? I thought you were retired."