Read Online The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself (Apollo Quartet) by Ian Sales - Free Book Online Page A
Book: The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself (Apollo Quartet) by Ian Sales
Read Free Book Online
Authors: Ian Sales
Tags: Apollo Quartet
Ads: Link
officer now, and feels as though he always has been. The 130 days he spent in space, hurtling between the Earth and Mars, the nine days on the Martian surface, the 537-day return flight—they might never have happened.
He loves flying, he has always loved flying; and as commander of the Flight Test Center he gets to fly whatever and whenever he wants. But some days he sits at his desk and hears another muffled roar as somewhere in the distance a F-5E or a B-52 takes off, and he remembers sitting atop a Saturn V as far below him five F-1 rocket engines ignite, their basso profondo roar, their infernal power pushing him faster and faster and faster. He remembers days spent in an Apollo Command Module and a hab module made out of a S-IVB, he recalls the descent to Cydonia in the MM. He wishes he had been allowed to stay an astronaut, to perhaps work on the interstellar spacecraft USAF now operates.
And then one day, the phone on his desk rings and a voice tells him General Sheldrake P Williams, commander of Air Force Space Command, would like to speak to him. And the first question the general asks him is:
How’d you like to go back into space again?
2000
It has been nearly twenty years since Elliott last experienced splashdown, though strictly speaking this is not a “splashdown” as Earth Two possesses no surface water. He is briefly amused that his first, Ares 3, was as pilot of a crew of three; for Ares 9 he was commander of a crew of two; and now he is on his own in the CM. He ignores the empty seats to either side of him, and gazes at the control panel as if he’s actually in command of this flight.
It’s a fierce ride. The air is thicker here and the atmosphere deeper. G-forces press him into his seat, he thinks maybe eight or nine G, and it’s an effort to remain silent under the strain. He’s still a physically fit man, he needs to stay in shape to fly high-performance jets, but this is hard work. He only remembers one time before when everything has been such an effort, and that was during his nine days on Mars. Streaks of flame, yellow and red, stream past out the window, and then it’s all white-hot enveloping fire. He watches the altimeter and tries to remember the numbers Finley gave him just before he left the Goddard. It doesn’t matter much—the AGC has been programmed for Earth Two landings, he’s just a passenger.
The CM rolls over 180 degrees on schedule and he knows he won’t be bounced off the atmosphere. The Gs start to drop and a great weight lifts from his chest. He pulls in a grateful breath. The spacecraft rolls this way and that, lining itself up for the landing. It’s freefalling now, and he glances at the Mission Timer and waits for the 16½-feet diameter drogue chutes to be released. A thump, and there they go. The CM jerks and slows and steadies. A long anticipatory moment of silence. Now the main chutes deploy with a bang, and the CM seems to slow until, slow seconds later, the reef lines are cut and the main chutes open to their full diameter of 83½ feet and it feels like he’s hit a brick wall. Elliott bites off a cry of pain. The spacecraft is still dropping, but slowly, and swinging ponderously from side to side.
Ten feet above the ground, the retro-engines—added for landings on the waterless exoplanet—fire and the CM settles with a roar and a thump on the surface of Earth Two. Elliott remains in his seat. He’s feeling weak from almost three weeks in zero gravity, and the G forces he experienced on the way down have near drained him.
After ten minutes, he feels recovered enough to attempt an exit. He unlocks and removes his helmet and then his IV gloves. He unbuckles his harness and pushes the straps from his torso. He’s lying on his back at about a thirty degree angle, so he hitches his rear back until he is sitting upright. Getting from there down into the Lower Equipment Bay without banging arms or knees on struts or lockers or control panel takes
He loves flying, he has always loved flying; and as commander of the Flight Test Center he gets to fly whatever and whenever he wants. But some days he sits at his desk and hears another muffled roar as somewhere in the distance a F-5E or a B-52 takes off, and he remembers sitting atop a Saturn V as far below him five F-1 rocket engines ignite, their basso profondo roar, their infernal power pushing him faster and faster and faster. He remembers days spent in an Apollo Command Module and a hab module made out of a S-IVB, he recalls the descent to Cydonia in the MM. He wishes he had been allowed to stay an astronaut, to perhaps work on the interstellar spacecraft USAF now operates.
And then one day, the phone on his desk rings and a voice tells him General Sheldrake P Williams, commander of Air Force Space Command, would like to speak to him. And the first question the general asks him is:
How’d you like to go back into space again?
2000
It has been nearly twenty years since Elliott last experienced splashdown, though strictly speaking this is not a “splashdown” as Earth Two possesses no surface water. He is briefly amused that his first, Ares 3, was as pilot of a crew of three; for Ares 9 he was commander of a crew of two; and now he is on his own in the CM. He ignores the empty seats to either side of him, and gazes at the control panel as if he’s actually in command of this flight.
It’s a fierce ride. The air is thicker here and the atmosphere deeper. G-forces press him into his seat, he thinks maybe eight or nine G, and it’s an effort to remain silent under the strain. He’s still a physically fit man, he needs to stay in shape to fly high-performance jets, but this is hard work. He only remembers one time before when everything has been such an effort, and that was during his nine days on Mars. Streaks of flame, yellow and red, stream past out the window, and then it’s all white-hot enveloping fire. He watches the altimeter and tries to remember the numbers Finley gave him just before he left the Goddard. It doesn’t matter much—the AGC has been programmed for Earth Two landings, he’s just a passenger.
The CM rolls over 180 degrees on schedule and he knows he won’t be bounced off the atmosphere. The Gs start to drop and a great weight lifts from his chest. He pulls in a grateful breath. The spacecraft rolls this way and that, lining itself up for the landing. It’s freefalling now, and he glances at the Mission Timer and waits for the 16½-feet diameter drogue chutes to be released. A thump, and there they go. The CM jerks and slows and steadies. A long anticipatory moment of silence. Now the main chutes deploy with a bang, and the CM seems to slow until, slow seconds later, the reef lines are cut and the main chutes open to their full diameter of 83½ feet and it feels like he’s hit a brick wall. Elliott bites off a cry of pain. The spacecraft is still dropping, but slowly, and swinging ponderously from side to side.
Ten feet above the ground, the retro-engines—added for landings on the waterless exoplanet—fire and the CM settles with a roar and a thump on the surface of Earth Two. Elliott remains in his seat. He’s feeling weak from almost three weeks in zero gravity, and the G forces he experienced on the way down have near drained him.
After ten minutes, he feels recovered enough to attempt an exit. He unlocks and removes his helmet and then his IV gloves. He unbuckles his harness and pushes the straps from his torso. He’s lying on his back at about a thirty degree angle, so he hitches his rear back until he is sitting upright. Getting from there down into the Lower Equipment Bay without banging arms or knees on struts or lockers or control panel takes
Similar Books
