The Armstrong Incident
Many thanks to those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories. For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper...
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Thursday, 17 April 2098 16:35 hours, USSC Judge Advocate General's Building, Joint Base Grissom
I just finished my coffee and looked at my watch. It had been a very long day and I was anxious for it to be over. I had spent three hours giving testimony and answering questions before being deposited in this tiny room with nothing but a television monitor and my own thoughts to keep me company.
I had been told to wait here until further notice, but that was over two hours ago. Surely, I thought, the board would have come to a conclusion by now. Suddenly, the door opened, and my legal representative, Commander Tom Baker, stepped into the room.
"The board has just adjourned for the day, Lt. Jones," he said. That's me, by the way. William Jones, Bill to my friends and family. I'm a Senior Flight Lieutenant in the United States Space Corps, what used to be called the Space Force, formed nearly 80 years ago.
"They want you back at 0800 hours tomorrow, so you might as well go back to your quarters," Cmdr. Baker said. "And remember, don't interact with any of the other witnesses in the case. Especially your wife."
"You mean, the cheating slut known as my soon-to-be ex-wife, don't you, sir?" I asked. He nodded his head.
"Yeah. Her," he said. "Go on, Lieutenant, get outta here. And stay out of trouble."
"Aye aye, sir," I said as I stood up. I stretched my legs, grabbed my cover and headed out the door. I got into my tiny electric car, then headed back to the BOQ -- that's "Bachelor Officer's Quarters" for those not familiar with the term.
When I got to my suite, I took my uniform off, grabbed a frozen fake meat hamburger and tossed it in the microwave. As it cooked, I took a beer out of the fridge and popped the top off. When my "burger" was finished, I pulled it out and finished it in three large bites, trying not to notice the flavor. They were okay for camping or a quick snack, but were a poor substitute for the real thing, which was getting harder and harder to come by.
I sat in the recliner and turned on the television monitor to catch the latest news. There really wasn't anything that grabbed my attention, so I sat back and recalled the events of the last few weeks.
Until just recently, I was the Weapons Officer for the USS Armstrong, the Corps' newest, largest, fastest and most modern spacecraft. Named after the astronaut who first walked on the moon back in 1969, the Armstrong was said to be the most advanced machine crafted by human hands. It held a complement of 110 officers and crew members, and was propelled by two plasma ion-fusion power plants. It was said the Armstrong could reach Jupiter in just under 50 days.
On top of that, the Armstrong carried enough firepower to decimate anything that threatened it. In addition to a complement of nuclear-tipped cruise missiles, it carried three pulse-energy weapons, a rail gun, and several short-range mini-lasers that worked very much like the old mini-guns of the early 21st century. In short, it was one bad-ass ship. And mine was the hand that controlled all that firepower.
Why have all that firepower, you might ask. About 45 years ago, one of our shuttles was attacked by an Iranian spacecraft. Unfortunately, the shuttle was unarmed and had no defenses whatsoever. A missile fired by the Iranians struck the shuttle from underneath, destroying it. Outer space being the most inhospitable environment known to man, everyone died instantly.
We almost went to war over that incident, but the diplomats somehow managed to avoid it. The Space Corps, however, decided from that moment on, that every manned space vehicle in its fleet would be armored and equipped for combat.
Getting orders to serve on the Armstrong's maiden voyage to Jupiter was only made sweeter by the fact that my wife of five years, Tabitha, or Tabby, as she liked to be called, also got a set of orders to the same vessel. Unlike me, however, she would serve as the ship's senior pilot. At first I was overjoyed by the fact that we would get to serve together on the newest ship in the fleet.
This would be the first time the two of us had ever been assigned to the same ship at the same time. We were high school sweethearts who pledged to be exclusive to each other shortly after we turned 18. We both wanted to fly in space and applied for the Academy in our senior year of high school.
Both of us were accepted and got engaged right after graduating from high school, with plans to marry after graduating from the Academy. She got her wish and became a pilot. I didn't get to become a pilot and got assigned to Operations and Weapons. At first I was bummed out about it, but the more I got to shoot things and blow things up, the more I liked it.
After graduating from the Academy, we got married, each of us in our dress uniforms. We were assigned to the same base, but unfortunately, our missions often kept us apart. It's hard enough when one spouse is constantly traipsing off into space for two months or so at a time, but it's even worse when both are doing the same thing.
Sometimes, she would be on a mission for two months, leaving me to wait at home. Other times, I would be the one on a mission. There were times when both of us would be gone at the same time, but on different missions. Needless to say, we didn't get to spend a lot of time together, so we made the most of what time we did have.
Don't get me wrong -- I didn't just sit at home twiddling my thumbs while she was gone. I took an interest in a fairly new form of martial arts called Grav Tac that was designed specifically for use in low -- to mid-G environments. I took martial arts training in high school, and was instantly drawn to this. It required strength, tactical thinking and a strong knowledge of how things react in low gravity.
During this time, I never even considered the possibility that Tabby would cheat on me. I always trusted her to do the right thing so I never worried about it. Even though there were times I was tempted, I decided there was no way I would cheat on the woman I loved. So the idea that she might be seeing someone behind my back never even occurred to me.
I remembered the times we would fantasize about making love in zero-G, or on the moon or Mars. We always said if the chance ever came, we would try it, just once. So naturally, when we both got orders to serve on the Armstrong, it was like a dream come true for both of us. Unfortunately, that dream turned into a nightmare -- with no escape.
My mind drifted back to the day I left...
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Friday, 3 January 2098 Canaveral Launch Facility, Florida
Dressed out in my full spaceflight suit and launch pack, I said nothing as the technicians strapped me in the seat of the passenger shuttle that would take me and 20 others to the orbital dock facility where the Armstrong was located. Being the senior pilot, Tabby had gone up in the first shuttle that launched just over three hours earlier. I was in the third shuttle to go up that day. Three more would follow.
Next to me was the Armstrong's First Officer, Commander Jason Travers, or "Bull," as he was known due to his size and general demeanor. I knew Bull from the Academy. He was an instructor there when Tabby and I attended, and he was a hard-ass back then, taking no crap off of anyone. He expected the students to put out 110 percent, and he wouldn't settle for anything less.
He was also Tabby's counselor at the time. I sat in a few of his classes, but other than that, had very little contact with him.
"So, Jones, you looking forward to finally getting to serve with your wife?" Bull asked.
"Yes sir, I am," I said.
"Well, this is gonna be one for the history books," he said.
"I hear we're going farther than anyone has ever gone before," I told him.
"Jupiter and back in less than 100 days," he said. "Gonna be a very interesting mission." I felt and heard the pumps in the rocket underneath us that would eventually lift us into the sky and knew we'd be leaving Earth very soon. Bull knew it as well, as did everyone else in the shuttle. All of us were space veterans, so this was nothing new to us. Bull looked around to make sure everyone was ready to go.
"Alright, everyone, say goodbye to Earth. This is it, so SUCK IT UP," he bellowed before putting his head back on the seat cushion. We closed our visors and prepared for the launch. We felt the vehicle shake as the engines fired up and then felt the massive g-forces as the rocket began to lift. Looking out the window, I could see the clouds zipping by as we rose into the sky.
Soon, the blue sky turned black and I could see the curvature of the planet below. I never got tired of seeing that. The shuttle shook as the boosters disconnected. I knew they would fall back to Earth and land not far from where we had taken off so they could be used again. About an hour later, I could see a structure off in the distance.
"There she is," Bull said after opening his visor. "We'll be docking soon." A half hour later, the shuttle came alongside the large open dock and matched its speed to the dock's. Two large tubular structures came out and made contact with the shuttle. I could hear the hiss of air as the pressure stabilized in the dock.
"This is it," Bull said. "Get ready to experience a bit of gravity. Right now, the ship should be at .8 G's." I knew from my orientation documents the Armstrong was equipped with a gravitational system that could be adjusted as necessary. That would help alleviate the effects of long-term exposure to zero gravity, which included fluid shifts, muscular atrophy and loss of bone.
We waited for the crew to give the signal, and soon, a green light flashed above the hatchways. Bull unsnapped his harness and stood up, motioning for the others to follow suit. After he stepped into the aisle, I unsnapped my harness and stood, grabbing my bag.
It felt strange moving from the near-zero gravity of the shuttle to the somewhat-reduced, but present, gravity of the ship. In the space of a few steps I could feel the weight of my pack and my bag.
"Launch stations in four hours, people," Bull shouted as we entered the vessel. "Let's go. There's three more shuttles right behind us."
I already knew from the orientation material where our cabin was located, so I made my way there first, hoping to see Tabby. Unfortunately, she wasn't there, but I could tell she had already been in the cabin as her stuff took up half the space in our tiny "closet."
I put my gear away, stripped out of the heavy space suit and donned my regular flight suit. Grabbing my black uniform cap, I headed off to the bridge to take my station at the weapons console. I had a lot of work to do before we could launch. When I got there, the bridge was buzzing with activity. Tabby was working her way through the pre-flight checklist, so I left her alone.
I fired up the console and started the calibration routines, then grabbed a printout of the weapons inventory. From there, I went to the two cruise missile platforms and physically verified the serial numbers on the list and checked to make sure the locks were in place. From there, I went to each of the weapons stations and verified those were locked and ready to be put into immediate use.
