Test flight - Short Story

“This is testflight 1701, ready to engage the engines” The received a green light for OK and what he hoped was good luck on this dashboard and brought his ship around to the prearranged co-ordinates.

“All in place, now go make history” his radio crackled back at him.

He surveyed the view from around his cockpit, black, as far as they eye could see… black. If this worked, he was about to get much much deeper into that great big sea of black. He flipped three switches over his head and a pleasant whirring sound followed from behind him. He rolled his shoulders forward in preparation and surveyed the console in front of him. One further light was green, another 3 dead, he needed the lot green, but that would take a few minutes yet.

He allowed his mind to wander, if all went well here, he would literally put his career forward my miles. He could be a hero, everyone would know him, images started running through his head of parades, parties, in his name. 3 months ago nobody knew the name Armstrong Taylor, now, a few geeks and freaks who spent their lives on communications networks and the internet did. This time tomorrow there would be nobody more famous.

Yuri Gagarin? Neil Armstrong? They’d be nothing compared to him. One giant leap for mankind? This one be one huge rocket forward for mankind. No cameras here though, one was fitted above him, but he was far too far away to consider broadcasting back live, he had no doubt it was recording and everyone would see it at some point.

A third green light lit the console, he tapped at the forth, as if somehow he could speed it along. Adrenaline was building now, he could feel his heart rate picking up by the second, which was by no means a good thing, he had to stay calm, a few deep breaths followed and he started to feel calmer. He reached forward and held the controls, the inside of each glove was becoming just a little more damp. He could sense his moment approaching. 

“Nearly there flyboy, hang tight.” came a voice over the radio. He was being monitored by dozens of people at the base, albeit at a few seconds delay,  they’d obviously noted the heartbeat jump and were seeking to keep an eye on him.

More whirring from behind him, as more of the equipment came to life. He’d wanted flashing lights and blue glowing tubes, like he’d seen on television so many times, but when it came down to it, everything was encased in metal. It was clean, functional, but lacked a bit of excitement.

A 4th light was now showing green in front of him. He needed just one more.

He turned his head to a computer to his left, it showed a detailed map of where he was expected to go, it was straight, let’s face it he wasn’t going to be able to turn while hurtling through the galaxy at previously unknown speeds, while he was the pilot here, and when he got back home the glory would follow him, he was essentially here to get it to the experiment then turn it round and bring it home afterwards. There were inanimate carbon rods that would maybe deserve as much praise as him.

The route he saw was huge, the distance involved, the places he’d pass, people had never done before. His glance shot down to the panel, still holding steady on 4 lights. He stared at the 3 ignition switches which it would soon be his job to flick, he didn’t fully understand the science part, he wasn’t a scientist although he’d studied much of it to get the job. Primarily he was a pilot, and the best pilot, well the best that was willing to take part. There was some risks involved out here, he’d been in hundreds of simulations of the next 5 minutes but, nobody had done it before, the simulations could be so far wide of the mark.

A beep. A fifth light. It was time.

Within seconds the radio cracked in, “This is it Taylor, we’ll see you when you get home.”

Taylor signalled an acknowledgement, he stared at the lights for a couple of moments, all green, all steady, everything was ready. He stared at the switches, all down, it was down to him. Butterflies flew around his stomach, he took a few deep breaths, he dreaded to think what his heartbeat was now, but no doubt 5 men with clipboards and worried looks were pointing at the readout right now.

He reached over and flicked ‘top engine’ a whir from above him, as the engine came to life. He waited 5 seconds and hit the right engine, then the left. He always though space was supposed to be quiet, but the noise felt deafening inside his little self-contained tin can. All the switches were up, he pressed a large button next to them and sat back as hard as he could in his seat, checking every restraining harness he had attached to him.

Nothing, nothing was happening. Patience he told himself, it’ll come. A few more seconds passed, it felt like hours to him and nothing. He left his almost braced position and looked at the panel, every display seemed to suggest things were ok. The noises from behind confirmed the engines were running, so what was going on.

He began to reach for his radio to ask for help when the whole craft began to shake. No build up either, this was quite a violent motion, he gripped on to the sides of his chair as tightly as he could, this has never happened in any simulation. In fact in each case, at least towards the end, he’d have been on his way home by now.

The shaking got worse , he felt almost pressure building up on him, he didn’t know if it was fear or some kind of unexpected g force or what, but he couldn’t get up from his chair. His vision began to get blurry, he felt sweat dripping into his eyes, but couldn’t move a hand to wipe it away. He felt like the ship was about to shake itself into tens of thousands of pieces, when a light shone directly in front of him, outside the ship, it was bright, so bright it hurt his eyes, but in a way it was beautiful.

Then the light seemed to run at the ship and suddenly he knew he was moving, the shaking had stopped, the pressure had gone, a wave of calm flew over him. The light outside now seemed to flow over the ship, was this it? Was he breaking records? Was he a hero?

There was a loud, high pitched beep from above him. He recognised it instantly and held on tight again. Suddenly the pressures were back, the engines cut out and the ship flew to a sudden halt. The force of breaking from such a massive speed to nothing in a second hurt him. He felt winded and pressed against his seat. Which is where he stayed for a few minutes, almost coming round gradually.

He surveyed the area, black, everything around him looked the same as everywhere he’d been before. For all he knew he’d gone exactly 20 yards and it’d have been a massive waste of time. He knew that at this moment the computers on board were photographing, cataloguing, monitoring and logging everything they could. He dragged the screen to his left over to him, to plot the return course he literally just had to drag his finger to where he wanted to go.

The earth was clearly noted on there so he simply moved his finger from ‘current location’ to ‘Earth’, even his finger slide felt like a long way. The computer notified him it would stop him a safe distance from the planet and allow him to proceed on conventional engines from that point. He’d OK’d the warning and waited. The engine began its readiness again, same procedure as before, he manually positioned the craft as the computer recommended, essentially so it was facing the right way, and waited. None of the nervousness was there this time, everything felt a bit slower now and the computer signalled the information gathering process was complete before the third green light even came on.

Armstrong flicked through some of the data as he waited but it was all gibberish to him, but at least he could confirm it was saved and present. The final light came on after several minutes and Armstrong flicked each switch in turn, once again disturbed by the noises from each of the engines.

“All ready!” he thought, preparing himself for the same ordeal as the outward flight and once again the ship began to shake. A computer noise sounded from above him, but stuck to the seat there was nothing he could do but read, it was a proximity warning. Proximity? He peered out of the screen and a familiar flash of light appeared from the distance within seconds a massive craft appeared and started making its way towards him.

His radio cracked, noises, sounds, maybe words but nothing he could understand or respond too even if he could move a muscle. Then the light came, he began to move, the image of the vehicle was gone in an instant and so were the sounds from the radio.

Within a few minutes he came to a stop, the blue/green sphere of the earth in the distance, emotions and thoughts running through his mind. What or indeed who was that, did they know what he was, could they trace him back here. If they could what were their intentions?

Had this mission opened the biggest can of worms in the history of humanity?

He moved the ship to dock with a large space station in orbit of the planet, he couldn’t resist the all too human reaction of glancing over his shoulder, nobody… yet…

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Links to previous efforts:

Last Stop

Time

Time - Short Story

Stephen ran out of the office doors into the street, the road in front of him already a chaotic mess of cars and people, all rushing to get away from here, horns sounded and people argued. The sound of a hundred car radios, all repeating the same message echoed, time was short.

He pushed his way through the crowds, running towards the end of the road, he knew going back to his car was not going to work, the road was jammed but he had 2 feet and could push past people. Normally a foot trip to Stephens home would take 20 minutes from here, maybe a little more, today more due to the pure volume of traffic in his way, but he also knew time was scarce.

Running between cars which were gridlocked into place he set off over the road, the chaos continued to build around him for 4 maybe 5 minutes at a decent running pace, until the people started to thin and he was able to push on.

As the pavements quietened, he became aware of the silence and began to think. He’d heard the news for weeks, building tensions between the country and several others, accusations had flown, but everyone had expected it to blow over. However it hadn’t. The office had turned silent when the news came across every TV and Radio they had, tensions had turned into threats and threats had turned into action. The news had said reports indicated there had been a launch of some kind, what? Not sure. At where? Not sure, but every major city went into panic mode within seconds.

He felt a pain in his chest as he ran, he’d never been much of an athlete and although adrenaline had pushed him this far, his body was now saying to stop. He pulled up and started trying to catch his breath against the brick wall, he had reached houses and must’ve been going for more than 10 minutes now. He reached for his phone and dialled home, but it was no good, tens, possibly hundreds of thousands of calls were clogging up the network, he wasn’t going to get through. He knew another 5 minutes at good pace and he’d be home. The road to the side of him was already full and slowing down, but the pavement was only being shared with a few people, he picked himself up and pressed on as best he could.

He had no idea how long he’d have until anything happened, even if it was going to happen at all. The houses he was rushing past were in varying states of panic, doors were left open, suitcases lay in gardens, belongings were scattered around as people had hurried to cars and tried to get away. Looking at the road again he deduced unless they were the first ones away, those panicked families, were maybe only a few hundred yards up the road, stuck in the cars, struggling to get anywhere.

He reached for his phone again but the display was blank, no calls, no messages. He reached back to his pocket, but felt a pain to his stomach. He fell to the floor and a man stood over him.

“Your phone, I need it, give it to me.” Stephen looked up to see a well-dressed, but clearly tired and emotional man, he was brandishing  a stick that used to be part of a fence, possibly his fence. Stephen had been struck with it hard in the abdomen.

“It’s no good,” Stephen protested, “The networks are dead.”

The well-dressed man took another swing and caught Stephen in his arm, he dropped the phone into the road and the man scampered after it. Stephen, wanted the handset back, but equally didn’t want to waste time fighting for it, especially hundreds of yards from his front door. He took the man’s distraction as a chance to pick himself up and press on. Winded, yes, but so close, he could make it. Within 2 minutes of getting up, he rounded the wall outside his home and ran up the path. The door was open, but the car was still on the drive. He ran inside and began shouting,

“Rebecca? Ruby?” No answer at first until he saw a figure come through a door leading to the living room. The small figure of Ruby, his daughter, ran to him, clutching round his leg.

“Daddy!” She exclaimed and he held her close to him.

Rebecca came down the stairs with a back pack over her back.

“You made it, thank god, but we need to get going, anywhere out of the city.” Stephen nodded agreement and scooping Ruby up they made it out of the door.

“Car’s no good, every road is jam packed.” Stephen said, “foot would be faster”. Rebecca acknowledged this and they began making their way out and down the road.

The number of people to have made it out this far was now far greater. The three joined a procession of people making their way further from the centre any what they thought was potential targets. Another half hour passed, maybe an hour from the panic had ensued and nothing. They had made ground, maybe a couple of miles but still would have seen, if not felt any blast that had hit the buildings not getting small in the distance.

The three caught up to a group with a small radio and slowed down to listen.

“The national stations are dead, but we can get signal from the more local ones. But even then… no news for about 15 minutes.” Volunteered one of the group, a young girl, possibly no more than 17 or 18 years old.

“What was the last?”

“London was hit, targeted the centre… badly damaged. The coast also took some hits. They say there may be more, but they haven’t said what it was hit by.”

Stephen put his hand to his face and shook his head, “Nothing is worth this nothing!”

The crowds carried on, pushing northwards. They had found a main road, clogged so badly by cars they had been abandoned and the people that brought them swelled the numbers walking. The people were walking towards a village that was a few miles outside the city, it couldn’t hope to cope with this many people but it was somewhere to go.

People around started to speculate, they pondered, have we done anything back, have we returned fire? Where was next, would there even be anything else aimed at the country.

A voice came from a little further back in the crowd, “There’s more coming!” it shouted. Suddenly 100s of people felt the ground beneath them tremble slightly and a deafening sound from behind them. People span round and gazed back to see a bright light and smoke emerge from the distance, from where they had been just hours before.

Stephen gripped Rebecca and Ruby tightly to him. It was seconds before the heat hit them and they remembered it for even less, the last thing he could do was whisper, “I love you” to his wife and daughter before everything melted away. His hands left limp and lost the grip on his family and the world slipped away.

Nothing was worth this.

Inspiration! Or lack of it!

I'm usually full of ideas, other people would say full of quite a bit more too, but for now I'm sticking with ideas. These ideas are great until typically I try and do something with them, once I enter the practical stage things go tits up.

Sure, I come up with solutions for things regularly enough in work, but that's work, it's what I'm paid for and if I didn't come up with suggestions, I'd no longer be paid for it quite soon. I assume the sense of necessity helps drive the process.

However, when it comes to recreational stuff, I quite often draw a blank. My latest idea that I've done bugger all with is to set up some kind of website to handle satirical stories, either by myself or through submission, and lets face it that's one amazingly unoriginal idea, but I'd be good for my somewhat rusty and failing HTML/General design skills. Easy you may think, well so did I.

What point got me? What point did I find insurmountable? Naming it. I went to google sites and couldn't think of ANYTHING to call it. So my enthusiasm died and nothing got done. Pathetic!! I honestly sat there looking at a tint tiny text box that anted the URL that it'd use and froze. Hmmm...

I once wrote a shortish story, it wasn't great, the plot was painfully contrived but it wasn't the worst thing I ever read. What happened to it? I typed up half of it, maybe a little less before just stopping! No idea why, to this day (which isn't long, I wrote it about 6 weeks ago) the last 50%+ of the story only exists in an A4 pad I carry back and fore to work (did I mention I miss my netbook?) and will no doubt be lost/damaged before it ever gets saved onto hard disk forever. Not that anyone would want to read it anyway!

I did finish and put out (via this blog) a different unrelated, much shorter story which I quite liked, but thats personal bias no doubt. About 15 people read it and were generally positive though!

(Wow I just linked to myself, how sad)

I'm not really sure what causes this level of half arsed-ness in some of the things I do, but it happens!! Maybe I'm pushing a topic I can't be bothered with, but honestly I don't think so.

Maybe I'm just lazy!

If that site ever does get put up, I will of course let you know.

Last Stop - Short Story

It was early, “it was always early about this time, funnily enough” he thought to himself. He lifted himself out of bed and walked to the bathroom. With a quick tug he turned on the light and examined himself in the mirror.

Within 20 minutes he was at the front door, ready to go. He locked the door of the little flat and walked the half mile to the train station. He checked his watch, he had a good 20 minutes until it was due, he had time. He passed joggers, dog walkers, the  acted like they didn’t even see him, even if they did at all. Dogs would usually give him a second glance, but would be dragged off by their owners before they ever reacted. It was a shame really, he loved dogs.

He walked past the shop to his left. The owner out the front instructing a paper boy on the fastest route. He would have loved to have stopped, but that’s not what he did. He had to keep on going, after all he had a train to catch.

The path to the train station was quiet, after all it was early, not many people were out of bed and commuting at this time. Thoughts of plans filled his head, he’d arranged a meal for after work with a young lady, a friend but maybe more. He wondered what she was doing now. He sighed and ploughed on.

The train was at the station now so he walked straight on. Found the same seat he found every day and sat down. Only a few minutes later the train pulled away and the journey began. It was all very routine but it was his routine.

He looked around the train recognising faces he knew, faces he’d seen years ago. Still carrying on their daily routines as if nothing ever changed. They’d become older, yes, but their faces were still full on life, while he felt so drained. How he envied them for that.

Three of four stops had passed, people had come and gone. He’d remained anonymous in his seat, people watching to pass the time. Mainly the train was full of workers, if anyone selling awful ties and gray suits were to come on, they’d make a fortune he joked to himself. That was his first smile of the day!

The train stopped between two small stations at a signal. It hadn’t always done so, sometimes people would take a risk, a chance, but not since that day. Oh no, now people stuck to the rules. The signal changed and the train pulled away.

He’d leave the train here, this is where it happened. The thoughts of the noise and the screeching came to him once again and he felt saddened. He thought of the moment he felt something strike him, how he’d begged and prayed it wouldn’t happen, but there was nothing anyone could have done.

He closed his eyes as the world started to fade, this was it for him, the final stop on the route. As he drifted into black he opened his eyes for a last look around.  Said goodbye to the people, “I’ll see you tomorrow” he thought.

As he left, he’d swear someone turned to look at him, just for a second..