Chapter 22: Outbound from Mars

NSS Borman, October 7, 2141
Outbound from Mars

Recovering at the Borman took longer than expected, mostly because Alan had never flown in a twelve ship formation before and he didn’t realize how long it would take. They were nearly out of reaction mass fuel by the time they shut down and climbed out of their Berserker and he realized they should have recovered in fuel remaining order.

“Mission debriefing immediately after maintenance debrief!” Alan called as he and Hilde grabbed their garment bags and disappeared into the back area. They had dashed to the locker room, kicking off from hatchways and gangways as they floated to the locker room. There, they cleaned up as best they could. Zero G showers don’t exist. Spacemen take a “Birdbath” as Alan’s mother Laurel called them. First a scrub down with a damp soapy cloth, then a rinse with a clear water wet cloth. It didn’t take Hilde and Alan long to get their shower down to a science on these zero gravity carriers. Normally showers are a time of closeness and togetherness, but Alan looked sad and distant.

“Why do you look so sad?” asked Hilde.

“Oh, it’s silly. Don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me,” she demanded in that tone of voice that he couldn’t deny.

“We’re another week closer to the end of training,” he groaned.

“Don’t tell me you fell in love,” she scolded.

“It’s worse. Much worse.” He looked into her glistening blue eyes. “You’re my best friend.”

“I’m sure you had a million friends...”

“No. Not me. Not on Mars. I was a nerd among nerds, and so was Christa. We were each other’s only friends. Just promise me, when this is over we can still be friends.”

“Oh, of course we can! I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She gently kissed Alan, knowing that he lied about falling in love with her. She knew she should have told him on day one ... For his part, Alan was relieved, but he felt like she was holding something back from him. He felt like there was a lot being held back from him by everyone. “Let’s see that uniform...” said Hilde, and she checked his Martian uniform, and he checked her Lunar uniform. “Let’s go,” she said.

They slipped on Velcro boots and headed off to the briefing room where the flight crews waited. They stepped into the briefing room and there was a video of Alan’s speech at the Bradbury Canal six hours ago. “I’m never going to hear the end of this,” he whispered to Hilde.

“I think you’ll be surprised,” she replied.

The video ended with Alan’s impassioned plea to make October 7th their Freedom Day. When the lights came up, the entire group was hooting and clapping, and when they saw Alan and Hilde in their Martian and Lunar uniforms, they unstrapped their seat belts that kept them from floating away from their desks and stood on their Velcro boots and applauded. “Goddamn!” cried someone from the back. “You’re going to put me out of business.”

“TEN-HUT!” came the cry of the chief of the boat from the back of the briefing room and in floated Captain Garrett Reisman, commander of the NSS Borman. He floated up to the front and planted his Velcro boots on the Velcro deck and said, “as you were.” The squadron sat back down and strapped in. “That truly was inspiring, Lieutenant. You’re going to put me out of a job if you keep that up,” said the Captain as he shook Alan’s hand. “First a little housekeeping. Do we have any Martians here?”

Alan and another trainee, Lieutenant Anna Vasquez, raised their hands. “You’re a Martian Lieutenant?”

“My parents are Martian ... but I was born in Columbia. I have applied for Martian citizenship.”

“I’m going to need a ruling on that. I’ll get back to you. Do we have any Lunas?” Three people raised their hands. “Ok you’re all instructors. That’s not a problem. Here’s the situation. Lieutenant Scarlett did a pretty good sales job, but the rest of you sealed the deal.” The video screen came up again, showing a video taken from the train. The barren Martian desert slid by, but in the distance something approached. Soon on the screen were twelve F-119 Berserkers in formation, racing across the Martian desert, growing closer and closer to the camera. Excited chatter of onlookers could be heard as the formation flew alongside the train, then one by one they zoomed off into the sky. Whoops and gasps of amazement were heard from the train passengers when each F-119 shot skyward. When Alan performed his barrel roll and shot up to the stars, the onlookers burst into applause. Then they could hear Ray Clark saying, “Those are the men and women that have volunteered to help protect Mars!” followed by wild cheering from the observers on the train.

“XO, could you read the document we just received from Mars?”

“Yes sir,” the executive officer cleared his throat and continued. “By unanimous vote, the Parliament of Mars has accepted the Western Alliance Navy Chief of Staff’s offer of assistance and will be proud to host the Naval Fighter Squadron that put on such a show of airmanship and dedication to the Martian cause.”