We began receiving special deliveries for crewmembers. Flight suits and other flight apparel with the mag-sensitive weave incorporated into the fabric. There were even mission patches on the flight suits, an image of the Milky Way galaxy with the word ‘Nadir’ written vertically in the middle of it. With full access to Griffin, people began packing personal items for storage in their sleeper cells, using the overhead and side compartments until they were bursting. My sleeper had a security safe for classified material, built-in under the bedding.
The day before our two-orbit test flight the Genesis simulators were shut down to make sure everyone took a day off. When test launch morning finally came, we donned our official light-blue flight suits and met at Genesis, taking a single crew transport to the SPF followed by an excited herd. Once again, no one wanted to be left behind. All the way there, we listened to muted complaints and comic sarcasm from crewmembers in the back who were not allowed to fly the two orbits.
We descended from the transport to find the Griffin already positioned on the launch apron. She sat shimmering in the morning sun, her smooth white surface glowing a subdued orange. The fire-hose-sized ground connection cables were still attached under retracted wings. We could see cabin lights illuminated within. The forward airlock side pressure door was open and the air-stairs moved into place. Covers had been removed from the OMS and stellar drives. The front openings in the stellar drives had a faint orange glow from deep within. A much larger crowd than expected was scattered around, joined by our own Genesis test team.
Terry Costerly came up beside me and held out a hand. I shook it, smiled, and nodded.
“They assigned the Auxiliary Operations Control Center for us. I’ll have all telemetry and outside orbital references. I’m heading over there now. I’ll meet you on the headset.”
“Hover at twenty feet and see how she feels?”
“I’d like to check the station keeping and gyro profiles. It may take a few minutes.”
“We’ll hold until the word is given.”
“Who’s your right seat?”
“Danica.”
He nodded and headed for the OCC. A large group of his staff broke away from the crowd and followed after him.
The noise from the onlookers faded as we approached the stairs. All eight members of my team followed, making me wonder if some were going to try to force their way on. To my relief, RJ, Wilson, Erin, and even Paris remained at the bottom of the stairs as we ascended.
RJ couldn’t restrain himself. “Be quick about it, okay?” he called out and a murmur of laughter broke out around him.
“Yeah, don’t make us come looking for you,” added Wilson.
As Doc and Shelly sealed the pressure door, Danica and I went forward. Danica waited as I climbed in and then worked her way in beside me. Behind me, Doc strapped into the engineer’s position. Shelly took her place next to him. They rotated their seats to the forward position and tapped at keys at their stations to set monitors and controls in the preferred mode.
Danica began the power up. As she read and I acknowledged, more and more lights and displays came to life around us until the Griffin’s flight deck looked like an eccentric’s Christmas display. On the power systems display we saw an alert that the ground support cables had been disconnected. Out my window crewmen were dragging them away. After the emergency oxygen mask and system tests, the checklist called for headsets. We pulled them on, looked at each other and made sure everyone was online.
At last came engine systems and the inevitable awareness that we were sitting in front of a whole lot of explosive power. As the OMS spooled up we could hear pressure valves clicking and feel the hum of power welling up through the ship. This was not a simulator. This ship was alive. The vehicle had awakened and was waiting. Danica looked down at the next step on the checklist which called for stellar drive activation. She glanced over at me and squelched in over my headset. “Should I?”
“Please proceed.”
It was two red switches under clear switch guards. She lifted the covers and toggled both switches up simultaneously. We both turned our heads and listened. Even through the headsets, there was a gentle ‘thud’ sound from both sides, and then an unmistakable whine that rose in pitch. It reminded me of fan turbines spinning up, but it lasted longer and went higher in pitch. After what seemed like a very long, very high squeal, it dropped out suddenly and left a faint rumble in the background. Danica and I stared at each other in a moment of awe and watched the bar graphs on our status displays climb to green line.
Terry’s voice cut in over the headset. “Griffin, this is your Flight Director Terry Costerly and friends; how do you read us?”
“Five by five, Terry. How be we?”
“Loud and clear, Griffin. Com checks all around, please. Doc?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Danica?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Shelly?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Griffin, we see your systems on or coming up. I’ve already gone around the room and have all gos. Give us two more minutes to monitor gyro profiles, then expect clearance for hover. Griffin standby.”
“Standing by.”
With the checklist complete we sat within the hum of the real Griffin beneath us, living a favorite life fantasy, waiting to be turned loose to space in the most maneuverable, capable spacecraft I had ever had the privilege to fly. The feeling of freedom was overwhelming. The four of us silently traded stares of anticipation and jubilation. Blue sky filled the windshield above us.
Terry’s voice squelched in over the comm. “You look good, Adrian. Cleared to ascend and hover.”
With a last look around, I tapped on the repulse drive enable button and on the mode control panel engaged the flight director. The Griffin reacted immediately by raising up from the steady-state horizontal plane of earth to a slightly shifting ascent above it. It felt like the floor was moving beneath us because it was. I was surprised there was no vibration, just a completely smooth lift with tiny X, Y, and Z-axis corrections to hold attitude while rising. At twenty feet the attitude and navigation displays showed her switch to station keeping. We floated above the tarmac, watching onlookers in the distance below applauding.
“FD, Griffin, level at twenty.”
“Griffin, FD, it looks very good. Give us a couple minutes.”
“Griffin in the hold.”
Danica reached out for the landing gear lever. “Gear up?”
“Gear up.”
“She pulled the lever out and up and watched the SICAS display. “Gear coming up. And, it’s good.”
We had already programmed our ascent and orbit insertion. On the Nav display the little blue lines showed our path over the continents and oceans. Next to that other blue lines displayed our vertical components and top of climb. Speed vectors were written in along the way, along with feet per second climb markers. The collision avoidance system was set to forward and above and would warn us of unexpected encounters. All that was left was to set the thrust levers to auto and hit the Flight Director button to engage, and then watch the autopilot follow those lines up. If there was a problem the slight touch of my control stick would bring us back to manual, and I’d take over. We had done it all dozens of times in the sim, but this was the real world with real dangers and real exhilaration.
An offshore breeze began to push at us, causing the thrusters to work harder to hold position. Danica’s excitement slipped out. “My God, we’re gonna get to go. If there was a problem he would’ve said something by now.”
She had barely finished speaking when Terry’s voice cut in. “Griffin, FD, You are good. Have a safe trip. Cleared to launch.”
“FD, Griffin. All our thanks. Departing the hold in T minus five, four, three, two, one, engage…”
I tapped the engage button. The Griffin’s nose jerked up in front of us. The inertia dampening was a tad late kicking in. We were snapped forcefully back in our sea
ts and compressed deeply into them until the counter force eased in and allowed us to inflate back to normal. I wondered if it was a glitch or that was to be expected on every acceleration phase. No one commented, but I sensed some contained surprise. My pilots were too professional to allow any hint of anxiety.
We had nothing but blue sky in the upper windows, but the feeling of speed was intense. There was vibration, such a smooth steady hum that it was reassuring. The world raced by below. The windows began to fog, then the moisture began to condense into thin streams running across the glass. Below us the ocean became obscured by wisps of cloud. The sky ahead began to gray. She nosed down slightly as we began to lose the blue. The thrust levers moved back and forth of their own accord as the windshields faded to black and the first stars became bright enough to penetrate the corona haze. The Griffin’s nose leveled, bringing the Earth’s curvature up into our windows against a star-studded black background. There was a slight push forward and a lessening of vibration as our status displays showed the OMS engines shutting down. On our Nav display the orbit information and speed vectors began to flash yellow, signaling we were approaching the assigned targets. Bell tones in our headsets told us we had inserted properly.
“FD, Griffin, we have main OMS cut-off.”
“FD, Griffin, we see that. Insertion nominal. Have a good ride.”
I looked around at everyone. They were all smiling. Shelly spun a weightless pen at us. Doc grabbed it and spun it back. “Permission to disengage, Commander,” he said and placed one hand on the buckle of his seatbelts.
I pulled one earpiece back, smiled and shook my head. “You are free to move about the cabin.”
Danica broke out laughing at Shelly as she unbuckled and her butt came around and bumped the back of our seats. Doc clung to the frame of the door and pulled himself back into the living area, turning near the ceiling to wave.
I forced myself back to the Nav display. Griffin was tracking the assigned flight path perfectly. On the SICAS display, life support was exactly on the numbers. Switching to the engine displays, all pressures and temperatures were stable and correct. It appeared we had a very solid spacecraft. I looked over at Danica to find her switching her displays to check the same items.
Shelly began laughing behind us. We looked to see Doc doing somersaults in the back. Shelly pushed off and went into vertical spins next to him like an ice dancer closing her routine. Danica called out, “nine-point-five,” and the three of them laughed together.
“The view of the northern hemisphere is great out the side windows,” said Doc.
Shelly added, “It’s the same on this side. The southern curvature is solid white.”
We had roughly three hours to enjoy the spacecraft and weightlessness. I was surprised when Doc poked his head in with a half-eaten candy bar in his hand. Not one of the four had the slightest nausea. At the one-hour mark we switched flight crews with Shelly in the pilot’s seat and Doc riding copilot. Danica and I coasted our way through the rest of the habitat module and even opened the pressure door to the service module crawlway. Everything was tight. Everything worked.
The ride was a dream. For both orbits, Griffin tracked perfectly and left us nothing to do but monitor systems and enjoy the views. As deorbit time approached, Danica and I reclaimed our seats and programmed an autopilot flight profile. It would have been nice to do a manual, but the spacecraft’s flight director and autopilot system needed to be tested to the max. Even so, the ride down was as exhilarating as the ascent. A fresh cloud layer blinded us for ten thousand feet but the Griffin’s navigation remained precise. We held at one hundred feet above the launch apron and kept the gear up until we reached the twenty-foot hover. The crowd had reformed to watch the victorious Griffin settle back to the tarmac. She touched ever so lightly and bounced just a little as the weight came to bear on the struts. They had the air-stairs in place at the side door while we were still doing the shutdown, and as soon as the pressures equalized we heard the clunk and hiss of the door being opened. As we left the spacecraft there was some sporadic, undeserved applause, and at the bottom of the steps a preponderance of handshaking broke out. The ground crew had the tug already running. They looked like they couldn’t wait to tow her back in.
We were dragged into the hanger observation room where cake and other calorie-costly indulgences were being distributed. Through the big windows we watched the Griffin proudly roll back in, the ground crew fussing over her as if she was a newborn which in a way she was. So we ate cake and celebrated the telemetry data, and watched a proud Terry Costerly sign off the flight certification documentation.
As we celebrated, somewhere far over our heads there was a brown dwarf dragging a whole bunch of rock satellites around with it and we needed to get there. Tomorrow was that day.
Chapter 17