Chapter 30: Common Room

NSS McDivitt, November 16, 2141
Common Room

The big common room was often called the Chow Hall, but it was used for multiple purposes. Any large briefing or group entertainment was held here, in addition to all meals and religious services. At a large table at the head of the room, the Powers That Be sat eating lunch. Squadron Commanders Alan and Hilde, their second in commands, Lieutenant Commander Rob Overmyer and Lieutenant Commander Anne McClain, ship’s commander Captain Ellen Baker and her Executive Officer Commander Tim Kanopa.

“ ... so my cousin Arthur was tired of hearing everyone on earth end their sentences with “for a Martian,” said Alan. “Everything was like that... ‘smart kid, for a Martian,’ and ‘good scientist, for a Martian,’ so that’s why he named his daughter Fora.”

“Sounds like a great place to raise kids,” said Ellen, the captain of the McDivitt. “A bonded community with everyone watching out for each other.”

“No ... it’s all book learning,” said Alan. “And the books are often wrong. As a kid on earth, you could go out and climb a tree any time you wanted. In that brief moment you knew more about that tree than any Martian would learn in a year of study. My sister Christa and I were schooled by idiots who told us that all trees had been cut down by evil men. The first time we ever stepped outside was on Guam about ten years ago and the first thing we saw was a tropical jungle. We freaked out, Christa actually fainted. We were told all the trees were cut down; we were expecting a large Mars. We did not know that trees grow back.”

When the laughter died down, a spaceman from the Communications Center floated up to the table. “Lieutenant Scarlett?”

“That’s me,” said Alan and the spaceman handed him a yellow sheet of paper. He looked at it and chuckled then said, “Hang on, I have the reply...” He took a pencil from his sleeve pocket, wrote on the back of the message and handed it back to the Spaceman and said, “I think that needs to be sent right away. I’m not familiar with Scaffold authorization.”

“Yes sir,” said the spaceman, and he dashed off to the comm center.

Alan glanced around the table and everyone was staring at him. “What?” he asked.

“Scaffold is presidential communications. It’s generally top secret and has top priority,” said Ellen.

“It was just Uncle Ray asking about childhood nicknames,” said Alan. “My dad called my sister Christa Smartie, and mom called me Gogo.”

“That was it?” asked Hilde.

“They also asked about some guy named Dexter, I didn’t know him.”

“That’s odd,” said Ellen.

“That’s Uncle Ray,” said Alan. “He’s got something up his sleeve...” then Alan shook his head. Ray knew those nicknames; he called Alan Gogo since the day he learned to crawl. Something is up on Mars. He should be happy; his squadron is up to strength. The NSS Perrin just dropped off a shipload of supplies and 30 eager Radar Intercept Officers. Fifteen of them were considered the best, the other fifteen were trainees, slackers, or Martians, and of course, Alan got the trainees, slackers, and Martians.

“Let’s go!” called Hilde, but her voice didn’t get the attention of the chatting space crews that were getting to know each other over lunch.

“Master Chief, please?” asked Ellen.

Master Chief Petty officer, John Allison, the Chief of the Boat, rose and bellowed, “WING! ATTENTION!” Immediately the room went silent, and all spacemen sat silent in their seats. “They’re all yours ma’am.”

“Thank you chief. Both Squadrons! We will continue to fly and map this portion of the asteroid belt. Some of you RIOs may hate it, but this is the very best way to show off your skills. Your pilot has been through this several times, we all flew RIO while waiting for you to join us. Be sure to double check the schedule, you’re flying with someone different this afternoon. First go of the afternoon is in one hour! As you were.”

“I had better get going,” said Alan and he unstrapped from the bench and floated up out of the seat. He disposed of his food containers and he and Hilde drifted off toward Life Support, where he would get his pressure suit.

At life support, he was given his suit, which was thick and bulky. Most people put their suits on by themselves, but Alan and Hilde helped each other most of the time. They’ve been flying together every flight since they met and yesterday they flew with somebody else for the first time. For Alan, it was like his leg was cut off. He and Hilde knew each other’s moves, how each other would react to a situation or flight condition. Now they’re not even in space at the same time. Alan takes off with the first ‘go’ and Hilde flies with the last ‘go.’ Helping each other on with their pressure suit before their flight is one last time for a gentle caress, a stolen kiss, a knowing smile.

As he was about to pull on his helmet collar, a woman with an eastern European accent said, “Do I fly with you this afternoon?”

Alan looked up and before him stood a tall, athletic woman, completely naked except for her Velcro socks. She was slim with high, firm breasts, six-pack abs and her pussy was shaved of all hair. Alan was not impressed; he’s got a deep hate for the Eastern Bloc and any reminder of that group of mass murderers disgusted Alan. “If you’re Tasha Kikina, then yes, you are my RIO. We will find out in thirty two minutes if you’re flying with me or walking home. Meet me at spot one.”

Tasha just smirked and drifted away. “I don’t like her,” said Hilde. She helped Alan on with his “horse collar,” then they collected his helmet and gloves. “She came over here to rub her pussy on your face.”

They stepped up to the air lock that lead out to the aft hangar. “Why would she do that?” asked Alan.

“Because she wanted you to be enamored with her body.”

“There’s no chance of that, you’ve cast a spell on me that I’m not trying to break.” Hilde gave Alan a kiss for luck. Then he put on his helmet and stepped into the airlock. His ship 055, the Double Nickel, was parked in his spot, parking spot one. It was parked, pointed to the big hangar door, and was ready to go.

“Red flight again sir?”

Alan Smiled. His twelve ships were set up in flights of two. He flew A Flight lead, and his wingman, the “semi-Martian” Anna Vasquez, was on his wing. If they flew a four ship formation, they became Red Flight. His twelve ships could make up three flights of four labeled Red Flight, Blue Flight and Green Flight. The four ship flights were rare, but this week they’re going to practice launching as a four ship formation and split into two ship flights and return as two ship flights. “Just playing around with the new guys Gene,” said Alan as he performed his walk around inspection of the double nickel. “We need practice launching four ships.”

“Let’s get you out on the runway,” said Gene. He opened a panel and released the landing gear’s magnetic hold on the metal floor. Alan and Gene Cernan pushed the double nickel out to the hangar door, then locked the landing gear to the floor again. They turned and saw Anna Vasquez, her RIO Scott Kelly and their plane captain, moving her plane behind the Double Nickel, and they gave her a hand. Cathy Coleman and Ed Gibson of B flight saw what was happening and soon all four planes were lined up on the centerline of the hangar deck.

“This is a great idea,” said Alan as he patted Gene Cernan on the shoulder.

“I learned that trick on the NSS Kittyhawk,” grinned Gene. “Just ask for a MITO and the Spaceboss will launch you five seconds apart.”

Now that sounded like fun! Alan released his boot magnets and floated up into the cockpit of the ship. These Star Strikers were a joy to fly. It was almost like flying in the atmosphere when you were swooping and diving with a Star Striker. He couldn’t wait to launch. Just as he was about to lower the canopy, Tasha Kikina climbed into the aft cockpit.

“You’re late,” growled Alan. “I want my aircrews preflight inspections complete twenty minutes before scheduled launch.”

“Da I vas speaking wit Commander Marks. She vanted to haf vords wit me.”

“I take it she wasn’t impressed with the way you addressed me in the locker room?” asked Alan.

“Da. She insured I vas avare uf Western habits. In Eastern Bloc, ve spent much time naked.”

“The next time you’re late, for any reason, I don’t care who’s driving, you’re walking home.”

“Da, vill nefer happen again.”

“It had better...” Alan hit the battery switch and fired up the on-board generator, applying power to the plane. He brought up the radio and got a good check with Red Flight. After verifying with his flight that they were ready, he switched channels and made a call. “NSS Spaceboss, this is Berserker Zero One. Red Flight is ready for MITO launch.”

“Roger Berserker Zero One. You’re number one on the runway, have a great flight.” Suddenly, the magnetic trolly under the floor kicked Alan’s ship out of the hangar. He gathered his wits and fired up the engine and soon all four ships were in a tight four ship formation, turning to give the tower a ‘fly by.’

“That was so cool!” said Ed Gibson in Berserker 04. “I saw it from the rear, Bing! Bang! Boom! And we were all gone! That was a minimum interval take off, right?”

“It sure was,” laughed Alan. He could see in the tower the Spaceboss was laughing and pointing at them as their circle of the NSS McDivitt was nearly complete. “Mister Kikina, give me a course to todays primary hunting grounds.”

“Da, continue turning left to one eight zero degrees, zee minus three degrees.”

“Very good.” He flicked on the squadron radio frequency. “Berserker Zero Two, Three, and Four, this is Berserker Zero One. Great launch gang, I have the lead to our Happy Hunting Ground. Doe-DA!”

“Doe-DA!” the other ships replied.

Almost immediately, Alan’s radio burst to life. “Berserker Zero One, McDivitt Spaceboss ... Recall, Recall, Recall. Return to McDivitt ASAP.”

Alan sighed, “I roger your recall order Spaceboss, Berserker Red Flight returning home.” He made a broad 180-degree turn and picked up on their ILS signal and let the Double Nickel land automatically. The four ships glided into the hangar and floated over the parked Star Strikers until they reached their parking spot, where they spun around to face the center of the hangar and gently lowered to the deck.

“Excellent touch sir,” said Tasha Kikina. “You vouldn’t make me valk home, vould you?”

“Until I see proof of your allegiance with the Western Alliance, I suggest to keep your walking shoes and an extra tank of air handy.”

“Vat do you mean darlink?”

“I know that your half-sister is Antonina Matrona Markov, a captain in the Eastern Bloc Peoples Space Force.” Alan waited a long time for a response. “Well?”

“Not on radio.”

Alan shook his head and shut down the Striker and climbed out and headed for the hangar airlock, with Tasha Kikina right behind him. As soon as the airlock equalized pressure and they could take their helmets off, Tasha said, “Ve must talk.” Alan reached for the door handle, but Tasha slapped his hand away and said, “You must listen. Very Important. Eastern Block wants Lake Baikal, will kill anyone to get it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“No time! We must get it first, and send it to Jupiter.” She turned the handle and stepped into the pressurized life support area and there was a crowd of anxious fliers trying to figure out what was going on. Alan lost Tasha in the crowd as his team pulled him to the side and demanded to know what was going on.

“All flying has been suspended,” cried a new RIO.

Alan replied, “Good, you need to catch up on your studying anyhow.”

“How long will this be? I need points!” Fliers gain points for every mission and point totals work towards promotion.

“You’ll get points, give it a few months.” Being the lowest ranking man in the squadron, Alan was really not the one to talk to about fast promotions. He finally got to Life Support and was able to change out the heavy pressure suit for his lightweight flight suit and a pair of Velcro boots. He then headed upstairs, through the cabins to “officer’s country” where the staff of the McDivitt and the senior leadership of the forty-third and the forty-fourth IFS units were gathered in a classroom.

“Finally,” sighed the captain as Alan strapped himself in next to Hilde. “This briefing is classified Top Secret, and is for official use only. I’m sure it’s going to be stuffed in a cabinet back on Earth.” Top Secret material can be assessed as to how much damage it would cause if released and be put in a security cabinet, the higher the cabinet number, the more security will be used to protect it. The highest cabinet rating Captain Baker ever heard of was thirty-four.

“What is it? What’s going on?” asked Alan.

“We received another Scaffold message from Mars. This one reads, ‘Search for RSS Lake Baikal in Asteroid Belt. If found DO NOT APPROACH. Plague, Plague, Plague. Advise Red House Directly, Immediately. Relay message to any naval ship in the asteroid belt. End.’”

One of Captain Baker’s staff officers, Commander Martin Monti, shrugged. “This is from the government of Mars. It doesn’t apply to us, there’s only one Martian on this ship.”

“Three actually,” said Alan. “One pilot, one RIO, and one plane captain. However, every piece of hardware used by the forty third Interplanetary Fighter Squadron was paid for by the planet of Mars so you can take your Earth first bullshit and stuff it up your...”

“Stop!” whispered Hilde quietly in his ear. She squeezed his thigh as a warning, but she was sympathetic. As a Luna she hears arrogant Earth First blather all the time too.

Captain Baker continued. “Seven minutes ago, we received a message from Armstrong that reads, ‘McDivitt is now Scaffold asset. Follow Red House orders. Eagle One enroute.’” She looked at the commander that was still glaring angrily at Alan. “Yeah, you can stow that Earth First baggage or you can find another command to pollute. McDivitt is now an asset of Mars and Eagle One, our wing commander is enroute via fast shuttle. Earth is in its closest proximity to this location so he will be here in a few days. I hope to have the Lake Baikal located and cordoned off by the time he gets here.”