Creative Commons – The Plainsrunner – Chapter Forty

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

They lose contact with Mission Control.

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Chapter Forty – Departure

They were one day out when Mission Control went off the air.

They spent the night on the station. Since the station was keeping the same time as Mission Control, there was no adjustment necessary. They would also be keeping the same time on the ship. During their stay on the station, they met all nine of the station’s crew. When the three came in from outside, three went out, and the other three went to bed, so Tallgrass and his mates got to have a good visit with the ones fresh off their work. Or rather, fresh out of their showers. The first thing they wanted to do when they came in was get out of their pressure suits and get clean.

“I envy you,” said Tallgrass.

They laughed, and the one called Fortune said, “Sure you do.”

“I do,” insisted Tallgrass. “This is a great project to be working on. You must have new problems to solve almost every day.”

“That’s true,” said Fortune, while his mates nodded. “The work is interesting. And satisfying, too.”

“And important,” said Tallgrass. “And something no one else has ever done before.”

“Well,” said Fortune, “this time around, anyway.”

They all nodded, thinking about their ancient ancestors, who had gone this far and beyond. All the way to Sunward, where they settled a whole new world. Tallgrass said, “That’s right. This time around. It’s still important work.”

“Okay,” said Fortune. “Sure it’s important, but not compared to what you’re doing. The only reason we’re here is because of you.”

All the station crew were nodding, and so was Blunt. Tallgrass shook his head at him, and said to Fortune, “Technically yes, but all we’re doing is going for a ride. In the ships you built.”

Fortune laughed. “Okay,” he said, “if you say so.”

All nine of the station crew were there to see them off in the morning. They strongly suggested to Mission Control that on this special day it would be appropriate to mark it with a sort of holiday. Mission Control agreed, in part because they knew it would be pointless not to. Three of the station crew escorted them over to their ship, and handed them in through the airlock. The ship wasn’t pressurized yet so they were able to all file in together.

They spent the next twelve hours pressurizing the cabin and bringing the ship’s systems online. Everything had been put through many dry runs already, so there were no surprises. At last they took off their pressure suits and put them in the airlock, to be taken away by the station crew. They had fresh, fully-serviced suits stowed on board. Then all the cables and hoses were detached and retracted, and their ship was ready to begin its independent life.

“Before we go,” said Supervisor Steel, “there is something we must do.” His square, strong hand indicated the ship. “We need a name for our new home.”

“I know,” said Blunt. “‘Avenger!’“

“That’s a nice suggestion,” said Steel. “Tallgrass?”

“I don’t know, sir. I hadn’t thought about it.” He looked around. “Um. How about ‘Intrepid?’ Or ‘Venturer?’” He shrugged, looking sheepish.

“Those are both good suggestions. Wayfarer?”

“Well sir,” she said, “we’re sort of representing the whole world, aren’t we?”

“More than sort of, Specialist Wayfarer.”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “So how about ‘Emissary?’“

“That’s a good one,” said Steel. “So we vote. Blunt?”

“I vote for ‘Avenger,’” said Blunt.

“I vote for ‘Emissary.’” said Tallgrass.

“So do I,” said Steel. “Emissary it is, then.”

“For the record,” said Wayfarer, “I would have voted for ‘Intrepid.’ But I guess I’m outvoted, aren’t I?” She looked at her supervisor. “Didn’t you have a suggestion?” she asked.

“No,” said Steel. “I’d have picked something if I had to, but I preferred to leave it up to you.”

With that, Blunt stood at the controls with his front hooves under the loops on the floor and activated the launch sequence, and Emissary accelerated away from the station on its disposable rockets. The rockets would get them out of Grasswind’s gravity well and on their way. Then they would switch to their ion drive.

A day later Blunt was badgering Tallgrass about bringing his mother’s glider. “Why?” he said. “What’s the point? It’s not good for anything, and it just takes up space. And what about the extra weight?”

“It hardly weighs anything,” said Tallgrass. “And I keep it in my sleep alcove, so any space it takes up is my space.”

“Yeah, you sleep with it, don’t you? Does it remind you of your mommy?” Blunt’s sneery smirk was as fine as ever.

Tallgrass just looked at him and said, “You’re easily bored, aren’t you?”

That’s when Mission Control went off the air. One minute Wayfarer was talking to them, and the next there was dead air. She called repeatedly, but couldn’t get them back.

Supervisor Steel told her to keep trying, and he told Tallgrass and Blunt to take their stations. Then they waited, while Wayfarer called Mission Control every minute or two. The channel was clear and the carrier was there, but no one answered her calls.