Chapter 12: LT Commander Ellison’s Office

Armstrong Station, June 6, 2041
LT Commander Ellison’s Office

After recovering at Armstrong station almost exactly 30 minutes apart, Alan didn’t have the opportunity to join his flight mates as they congratulated each other as they stepped into the ready room. When Alan shut down his kite and floated to the life support office, turned in his pressure suit, helmet and gloves, pulled on his flight suit and boots and headed for the debrief office. “Scarlett! My office!” shouted Lieutenant Commander Ellison over the intercom.

Alan shrugged; he hated debriefing anyhow. He took the elevator out to the ring farthest from the hub, and stepped into the office where he’s spent far too much of his training time listening to Commander Ellison shout. The commander’s Yeoman ushered him into the commander’s office and soon he was in his traditional posture, standing at attention in front of his commander. Lt. Commander Ellison glared at Ensign Scarlett. “You flew the entire distance from the Earth to the moon backwards.”

“No, not the entire distance as I recall, sir.” Alan felt gross. He just had time to turn his spacesuit over to Life Support, and was heading to the shower when he was ordered to report to Lt. Commander Ellison. Alan pulled on his flight suit and dashed to his boss’s office.

Ellison looked at the telemetry of Scarlett’s flight, and he was right. Every three hours he did a slow three-hundred-and-sixty-degree rotation to verify his position between earth and moon, then looked back on the five remaining Kites. Ellison dropped that. There’s no requirement that a ship in transit face in the direction of travel. Cadets who learned to fly in the atmosphere would fly nose forward out of habit.

“I want to talk about some Radio Teletype Messages that we copied.”

“RTTY? I’m not sure I...”

“Stow it Scarlett. The message to Kite 4 read “Check your heading.” That was followed a few hours later by another, “Kite 4, you’re off heading by two degrees. Reset to planned heading.”

“Yes, I believe I sent that,” said Alan Scarlett as he stood at the position of attention.

“Why?”

“He was off course. If he didn’t correct his heading he would have hit the moon. If you look you’ll see a series of RTTY messages where I helped him troubleshoot a problem with his inertial navigation...”

“NO! I want to know why did you send that message? It wasn’t your job.”

“I respectfully disagree. I was in the number one ship, that made me flight lead, and it made him my responsibility.”

“But this was a solo flight, what part of a solo flight means that you can help him fly his ship?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I had a flight member whose life was in jeopardy and I had to get him home.”

Lt. Commander Ellison glared at Alan for a full minute before he finally spoke. “Report to Captain Schirra. Immediately.”

“Aye, aye sir,” said Alan, and he made an about face and headed out into the training squadron offices. He stepped into the orderly room and asked the yeoman, “where is Captain Schirra’s office?”

The yeoman took a quick look at his Rolodex. “Earth ring, Quadrant B, Section 7, office 34.”

“Thank you,” and Alan headed out.

Armstrong Station, the Alliance Navy’s largest station, was huge and confusing. Earth ring was the outermost ring on this wagon-wheel style space station and is called that because it has gravity equivalent to the Earth’s gravity. The middle ring has Martian gravity, and the inner ring has the same gravity as Luna. He was currently in Quadrant D, which meant that Captain Schirra was on the opposite side of the Earth ring from him.

The thought that he was heading for a court martial entered his mind, but he might as well go get it over so he could start a career in civil spaceflight. The suspense was agonizing, so he chose the quickest route possible. Instead of running around the ring (like a Marine would) Alan took a spoke elevator to the weightless central hub, then found another spoke elevator that took him to Quadrant B. After that it was a matter of counting down sections and then offices until he found the Head of Governance Training / Interplanetary Affairs. Fancy name for a guy that trained people to be leaders, but isn’t that what the entire Navy was about?

Fearing that he would be used as an example in a lecture on “How Not To...” He entered Captain Schirra’s outer office. Seated at the yeoman’s desk was a beautiful, middle-aged woman with brilliant red hair. She was the sexiest woman he had ever seen. Her civilian ID badge showed her name was Estelle Schirra. It figures. Probably a trophy wife. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“Ma’am, I was ordered to report to Captain Schirra,” said Alan.

“Name?”

“Ensign Alan Scarlett, ma’am.”

Estelle looked up at Alan with an amused smile. He was tall, slim, handsome and self-conscious. He had his father’s square jaw and pointed nose, but it’s been a long time since she met Dr. Scarlett. Alan’s brown hair was askew and his piercing blue eyes were sunken and dark. He was exhausted from his first long flight. But he was his father’s son.

For her part, Estelle Schirra was an incredibly beautiful woman; her flowing crimson tresses spilled over her shoulders. Her lavish cleavage caught his attention, her green eyes twinkled with amusement, her full red lips pursed as she found the words, “Oh, you’re the one. Go on in.”

Alan didn’t want to go in. He wanted to remain in the outer office gazing at this large breasted goddess forever. She was old enough to be his mother, but she was well preserved. Very well preserved. He tore his eyes away from her cleavage and muttered, “Thank you ma’am,” and reluctantly turned to the captain’s door.

“Relax,” said Estelle. “He’s not going to bite your head off. That’s my job.”

“Yes ma’am.” Alan was sure that it would be enjoyable too. Steeling himself, he gave the door one solid knock and waited.