Loud voices behind them interrupted the long pause. James turned his head. A tall woman in a Space Agency uniform was entering the command section, leading a group of two or three. James nudged Steve lightly with his elbow and tapped himself on the chin, motioning for his mate to close his mouth. With his mouth agape and a dumbfounded expression on his face, Steve clearly did not look like a Space Force pilot was supposed to look. Without a doubt, the woman was Major Jamison. James identified her rank from the rank insignia on the collar of her flight suit.
‘Well, well,’ she began, noticing the two pilots. ‘We have a new addition to our friendly team, I see.’
Instinctively, James stood at attention.
‘Astronaut First Class Jenkins reported as ordered!’
Steve took the same stance, straightened up and drew air into his lungs.
‘Astronaut Second Class Wolverton –’
The woman nodded and stopped him with a gesture.
‘At ease,’ she said smiled, gleaming white teeth contrasting sharply with her black face. ‘The regulations state that you shall pay a social call on your commanding officer within twenty-four hours after reporting to a new spacecraft or station. Let’s consider that you’ve both done that already.’ Then she looked at the two pilots more closely, and the smile faded from her face. ‘Honestly, I’d prefer to see –’ she muttered but suddenly stopped and looked back without finishing her thought. ‘You two, what the hell are you trampling around for?’ said she, louder and sharper. ‘You need a special invitation to come in?’
A broad-shouldered, dark-haired young man – James had never seen before – appeared in the entrance hatch, followed by Oliver, hauling three toolboxes. As he stepped over the threshold, one of his boxes slipped out of his hands and fell onto the floor.
‘Fuck!’ Oliver exclaimed impulsively.
‘Oh, a geek becomes a real boy,’ said a voice, which also sounded familiar to James. He looked towards the entrance hatch. The computer technician Thomas was the next to enter the command section.
‘I’m not a geek!’ Oliver said indignantly, bending down for his toolbox.
‘Yeah, not anymore,’ Thomas replied with a laugh. Just at that moment, another toolbox slipped out of Oliver’s hands. The boy swore again.
‘Mind your language, Specialist!’ The Major said sternly and turned to Thomas. ‘So, can I hope the on-board artificial intelligence system works correctly?’
The computer technician shrugged his shoulders.
‘I’ve done what needs to be done,’ said he. ‘Well, I think I’ve done. Hopefully, there will be no conflict between the shuttle’s brain and these new systems. I’m about the systems that are in the process of being –’
‘Hopefully?’ The Major raised her eyebrows and looked sternly at Thomas. The computer technician spread his hands.
‘This is an artificial intelligence, Major,’ said he, winking at James, whom he obviously recognised, ‘but I’m just a human.’
Oliver must have recognised James, too; a slight look of surprise crossed his face.
‘What’re you doing here?’ he asked.
‘Same as you, I presume,’ James replied with a grin, remembering their first encounter, ‘or maybe you’re just riding along?’
‘No, I’m not,’ said Oliver, bending down to pick up the fallen toolboxes. ‘Montgomery said, I needed practice, so –’
‘And you’ve been promoted, I see.’ James noticed two silver stripes on Oliver’s sleeve patch.
‘Yep,’ the boy replied, not without pride. ‘Now I’m –’
‘Let’s leave the small talk for later, okay?’ the Major stopped them, ‘Well, I hope your intelligence is not inferior to an artificial one,’ she continued sarcastically after a short pause, turning back to Thomas. Then she looked down at the console closest to her and said with a note of annoyance, ‘Nothing works here.’
‘Because the power hasn’t been connected yet,’ Oliver said back.
‘Well, get it connected!’ she snorted. ‘Who has to do that?’
Oliver placed all three toolboxes on the floor, opened one, pulled out something, and slid himself under the right-hand console.
The Major clapped her hands twice. ‘Okay, guys, we’ve got a lot of work to do. Let’s get to it! Ashley…’ Now, she seemed to be addressing the girl, silently observing the scene, ‘I still haven’t got a full list of the equipment we need to pick up from the supply craft. Make sure you take care of that, please. If we miss a single bolt, we won’t have a second chance.’ Having said these words, she looked around the command section again, and her eyes rested on James and Steve. ‘You guys, don’t you have anything to do?’ she asked, raising her eyebrows slightly.
‘We haven’t had any instructions yet, sir… er… Major… um… ma’am –’ Steve began.
‘Commander,’ the Major said meaningfully and continued, answering Steve’s confused look, ‘Traditionally, whoever’s in command of a spacecraft, regardless of rank, is referred to as “Commander”’
‘So, that means if I’d have to take command, I’d be called “Commander” too?’ Oliver interjected, looking out from under the console.
‘If you’d have to take command,’ she replied in the same tone, ‘that would mean there’d be nobody left here to call you anything.’
With a sad sigh, Oliver slid back under the console.
‘…and work quicker!’ The Major winced slightly and shook her head in displeasure.
‘Just a couple of minutes more…’ the boy’s voice came from under the console. ‘I need to –’
A soft click, as if from an electrical discharge, followed by a loud shriek, cut him off mid-sentence.
‘Merde!’
James turned. The broad-shouldered lad waved his hand and blew on his fingers. ‘What the fucking hell are you doing?’ he shouted.
‘Lieutenant, you should also mind your language!’ The Major shot him an accusing glance. ‘Stubbs?’
‘Yeah,’ the boy’s voice came from under the console.
‘Not “yeah!” Say according to the regulations,’ the Major said with annoyance in her voice.
‘Yes, sir,’ Oliver reappeared from under the console, his face irritated.
‘That’s better. What happened again?’ The Major looked at him sternly. Oliver shook his head.
‘I told you, all the cables are mixed up here. Firstly, I need to understand which belongs to which, and er… Where’s my…’ He started rummaging through his toolboxes, mumbling something unintelligible. The Major nodded.
‘I see…’ She took a deep breath. ‘We’re scheduled to start in six hours. Do you understand what that means? Well…’ she glanced at the nearest console. ‘At least the intercom’s working.’ She pressed something on the console. ‘Control to Engineering, Dave, can you hear me?’
‘Go ahead,’ came from a speaker, apparently built into the console.
‘Dave, I hope the engine system is okay.’
‘You can be sure,’ the same voice came from the speaker but immediately faded, and instead, there was a crackling sound, and silence reigned.
‘What about the connection?’ The Major said menacingly, leaning under the console. Oliver’s head came into view again.
‘I’m working on that,’ he said. ‘All the cables were mixed up. I need more time to…’
‘Come on, fix all these bugs immediately!’ The Major began to show signs of impatience.
‘I’m trying…’ Oliver crawled out from under the console and opened the second of his toolboxes. ‘Where’s my micrometre?’
‘What do you need a micrometre for?’
‘Size doesn’t fit…’ Oliver disappeared under the console again. The Major raised her eyebrows and shook her head.
Steve looked at James and chuckled quietly. ‘I wonder, if they’re always in such a mess,’ he whispered, ‘how they fly into space.’
Meanwhile, a muffled curse was heard from under the console, and Oliver reappeared.
‘Where’s my…’ he murmured, rummaging through one of his toolboxes and throwing the contents around. ‘…Yep!’
It was impossible to look at all of this without a smile. The Major, James noticed, was almost laughing, as were Thomas and the sporty-looking Lieutenant.
The consoles lit up again. A rustling sound came out of the intercom loudspeaker, and then the voice of Dave, who was still unknown to James, came out of it, ‘Engineering to Control, are you all right?’
Major Jamison had no time to respond. All the consoles and instruments on the side bulkheads went out at once. Oliver emerged from under the console, this time looking rather annoyed. ‘Where’s my –’ he began.
‘Yn twll tin Ifan saer,’ said James, smiling involuntarily. He did not mean to say it; the sentence came out as if by itself. Thomas giggled.
‘What did he say?’ asked Oliver. The computer technician looked at the boy intently, making a sad face.
‘He cursed you with a horrible Welsh curse,’ said he grimly. ‘Now you’ll turn into a leek.’
‘I don’t wanna turn into a leek,’ mumbled Oliver. ‘I wanna find my adjustable wrench.’
‘Too late,’ said the Major with a stony expression.
Murmuring something unintelligible again, Oliver disappeared under the console. A few seconds later, the lights in the command section flickered, and then all the instruments came back on.
The Major breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Deconserving a spacecraft is a complicated process,’ she said with a deep sigh, ‘especially one that has never been in service.’
‘She wanna say, this … um… thing has never flown before?’ whispered James, looking at Steve in surprise and apparently louder than he intended.
The Major had caught his words. She raised her eyebrows.
‘The Apollo 11 Lunar Module never landed on the Moon’s surface either,’ she said meaningfully, ‘until Armstrong and Aldrin landed it in the Sea of Tranquillity.’
‘I’ve no plans of being in Armstrong’s place,’ James murmured, ‘and even Aldrin’s.’
This time, nobody seemed to hear what he said. The Major shook her head, ran her hand over her forehead, and snapped her fingers.
‘Okay, while nothing’s working here, Mr Fournier, show the young men their cabin. After that, you’ll check the flight control systems. Hopefully, Mr Stubbs can give us uninterrupted power by then.’
Steve elbowed James lightly. ‘Wow! We’re gonna have our own cabin?’ he whispered and winked. ‘Cool!’
‘Yes sir,’ the young Lieutenant replied, waving to the two pilots. ‘Let’s go, guys. I’m Quentin,’ he added, extending his hand to James. James and Steve introduced themselves, too, and all three shook hands.
‘Is it always like this here?’ Steve asked in a half-whisper.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well… I mean such a…’ Steve circled his hand around, ‘such a fuss?’
The young officer chuckled. ‘Nope. It just looks like the Major hasn’t had a good day.’
‘Are you familiar with this…’ Steve went on, circling his arms, ‘um… flying box. We got a bit lost here.’
The Lieutenant shrugged.
‘More or less. It’s a bit unusual and cramped in here, of course. Those guys who designed this shuttle tried to squeeze the maximum into the minimum. But this is nothing compared to the spacecraft of the past.’
‘Like Apollo 11?’ Steve grinned.
Stolen story; please report.
‘Nothing to say…’ Quentin waved his hands. ‘I don’t even know what to call the guys who used to fly these spacecraft. Heroes sounds too pat, but I can’t come up with any other word…’
Continuing their conversation, the three passed through the airlock in the same narrow corridor where James and Steve had walked half an hour earlier.
‘We’re on the main deck,’ Quentin continued to tell while they moved along the corridor. ‘You’ve already seen the command section. Along this corridor we have the crew quarters and the science labs, which we won’t need. Just past the docking airlock houses a sort of two-in-one messroom and kitchen. Well, further on is… heh, a so-called hygiene area. Looks funny; you could see it for yourself later. The aft section contains the reactor and engine sections. But you can only get there through the lower deck. On the upper deck…’
‘Is there an upper deck here?’ Steve wondered, looking up. The Lieutenant nodded.
‘Yep. There’s an astronomy lab up there if I’m not mistaken. This craft is designed for autonomous survey missions, but it should make its maiden voyage as a flying truck…’
The cabin Quentin had led them to was, contrary to Steve’s expectations, a quadruple.
‘This is our sleeping quarters…’ the young officer gestured to the small room, where one could barely squeeze between the bunk beds at the sides. ‘That’s where I and young Mr Stubbs will be staying too,’ he grinned. ‘Not a five-star hotel, of course, but not so long ago, there were no separate sleeping quarters in spacecraft, let alone private ones.’
‘There are private ones here?’ Steve asked. Quentin nodded.
‘There are, but only for the Commander and the Flight Engineer. Well…’ he snorted, ‘and for Mademoiselle Leverton, but only by chance, so to speak…’
He pronounced the girl’s name with a peculiar tinge; James had thought it was obviously not without reason.
‘…Okay…’ the young man waved his hand and grinned. ‘Take your seats and enjoy your flight. I’m gonna look at what’s going on in the control.’
He stepped out.
‘Hmm… I think we should go too, huh?’ James began.
‘Where to?’ asked Steve confusedly, looking around their new home.
‘To meet the techies…’
‘Take your time…’ Steve patted James on the shoulder. ‘He told you to relax and enjoy yourself. There’s nothing to enjoy yet, that’s true, but I like it a lot better here than in the detergent warehouse.’
James nodded. ‘Sure. And it’s better than being restricted to quarters. You think that’s why we’re here?’
Steve thought for a second and shook his head negatively, wincing slightly.
‘Nope. If I’ve got Dutton right, and I’m pretty sure I have, we’ve been given a very responsible assignment.’
‘So we have to do it responsibly… I guess –’ James did not finish, suddenly thinking that Steve still had no idea why he had been transferred to the warehouse. He felt terribly ashamed again and did not immediately hear what Steve said next.
‘What’re you saying?’ he muttered.
‘I’m saying it might be a good idea!’ Steve smiled, snapped his fingers, and winked. ‘Let’s show these civvies what Space Force is all about.’
James grinned. ‘Just don’t march like you’re on a parade ground.’
‘No way,’ Steve replied in the same style. ‘I’m not that old rat Rowling…’
… Rajeev Dabir and his co-worker were surprised to see James and Steve. Both technicians were working on the lower deck, in the bow compartment of the shuttle, which was called the Instrument Section but should now be called the Gunroom. But the Indian, as usual, showed no sign of surprise.
‘Weapons system is already in place,’ he said dispassionately in his indescribable accent, nodding in response to the pilots’ greeting. ‘The main power is already connected; the backup power will be connected shortly.’
They had to get through the same hatch in the middle of the corridor in the central part of the shuttle’s hull that James and Steve had noticed soon after stepping aboard. James had already thought that was the only place suitable for a weapons system, and he was not wrong. Bulky cassettes of micro-rockets took up almost half of the already small space. It was simply impossible to fit four people in here. The reserve weapon station was placed so that the only way to get close to it was to crouch down. Catching James’s eye, the Indian nodded understandably.
‘There was no other option,’ said he. ‘Anyway, control is done from battle stations in the command section. This station is only for the case of the main stations failing, which is unlikely.’
‘Can we test the system right now?’ James inquired eagerly in a tone of command, surprised on the inside. It had never happened to him before.
‘Yes, that would be very desirable,’ Steve played along, saying his words similarly. Behind his friend, on the other side of the entrance hatch, James caught sight of an unfamiliar man and realised what had caused Steve’s lightning-fast reaction. The man crossed the threshold. He was middle-aged, judging by his face, but with noticeable grey in his hair, and wearing a yellow jumpsuit with no rank insignia.
‘How are you doing?’ he asked very kindly. His voice was the one James had heard before when Major Jamison had tried to contact the engine room. Apparently, the Mission Flight Engineer was standing before them.
‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ James said, ‘this is a restricted area. Only Space Force personnel are allowed here.’
‘You may not know this, young man,’ the man began, ‘I’m –’
James cut him off without giving him a chance to go on, ‘With all due respect, sir, I cannot allow anyone here who doesn’t belong to the Space Force personnel until further orders from my commanding officer.’
The Flight Engineer grunted in displeasure, shook his head, and stepped back.
‘Well done, old man,’ Steve whispered with a smile and showed James his thumb.
‘So…’ James continued, turning back to Dabir, ‘can we start testing?’
‘You can,’ the Indian nodded.
‘How could I contact you if necessary?’
‘I don’t know if the main comms system is working,’ said the second technician, who had watched the whole scene in silence and, judging by his expression, had been having a lot of fun. ‘There is a backup comms system, but it only works with this section. You can call us from the battle station. Keep it up, lads,’ he added with a wink. ‘Let these civvies know who they’re dealing with.’
Steve nodded his head. ‘Yeah. What did she say? I’d prefer to see… like, not us…’ he pointed at James and himself, ‘but someone… I dunno whom.’
‘Who, she?’
‘Commander,’ Steve replied meaningfully, grimacing, ‘as she styled herself.’
‘Ah, our sweetest lady Major. Yes, indeed. By Jove, you’d think they’d all be super-duper. That Canadian King Kong… the name slipped my mind, doesn’t know basic things, not to mention the boy, though he seems much smarter. I’m crying!’ The technician burst out laughing, followed by Steve and even Dabir …
… Something had changed in the command section while they were away. There was no Lieutenant Leverton. Lieutenant Fournier was at the flight control post; Major Jamison was sitting in a chair in the middle of the command section, directly behind the flight control. When James and Steve entered, she turned to Thomas, who was doing something near the workstation on the rear bulkhead.
‘I suppose I can chat with the on-board artificial intelligence now?’ said she.
The computer technician smiled and nodded positively.
‘Easy. It’s identifying your voice.’
‘Uh-hum,’ she muttered. ‘How do I address… um… this…’
‘We decided that just ‘Computer’ would be a perfectly correct form of address,’ said Thomas. ‘I hope it doesn’t get offended by that,’ he added with a sarcastic grin. The Major hummed again and murmured something to herself, and then nodded.
‘Computer, run a full diagnostic on the basic life-support systems,’ she said in a determined tone.
‘Running diagnostic,’ replied a monotone voice that reminded James of a soap actress.
‘Hmm… female voice…’ the Major muttered.
‘You prefer a rough male voice?’ Thomas inquired playfully.
The Major snorted. ‘I prefer not to answer stupid questions!’
Oliver, sitting on the floor, had picked up his tools, which were scattered all over the place, putting them into his toolboxes, not where they belonged, as James immediately noticed, but randomly.
‘I hooked up your stations, too. Hope that’s okay,’ the boy said joyfully, seeing James and Steve, then nodded his head towards two posts near the starboard bulkhead. There were two control panels, side by side, just below the screens mounted on the bulkhead. One of the screens was dark; the other showed the space outside the shuttle, and, judging by the image, it was from two external cameras.
‘Wonderful!’ Steve exclaimed, taking a seat at the console before the work screen, while Major Jamison continued her dialogue with the shuttle’s artificial intelligence and Thomas. ‘Looks very similar to our fighters’ control.’
‘Yeah,’ James agreed, examining the control panel. ‘But the control panel is touch-sensitive, and without our helmets –’
Steve nodded in confirmation. ‘Yes indeed,’ he said. ‘But if I’m not mistaken, and I’m not mistaken, activating the targeting programme…’ He squinted mischievously, running his fingers on the touchpad, ‘…gives us the same effect.’
A few seconds later, the image on the screen became comprehensible, and a grid of coordinates appeared; after a few more seconds, columns of data crawled along the edges of the screen; distance marks lit up near some objects plucked from the darkness of space by external cameras.
‘Voilà!’ Steve pointed to the screen with a magician’s gesture. He looked very pleased with himself.
‘Great!’ James patted his friend’s shoulder. ‘There shouldn’t be any targeting problems unless the long-range sensors fail. I wonder if anyone’s calibrated those sensors.’
Steve shrugged. ‘I hope so. But we’ve got plenty of time to check. It’s good you remembered.’
‘Just that it’s a bit unusual,’ James muttered. ‘You’re sitting… what’s the word… sideways… We’re not the ones in control of the shuttle –’
‘We control the missile launchers,’ Steve looked at James, squinting one eye. ‘That’s the point. Each missile, as you know, has its own processor, which receives data from the system’s brains. Don’t worry, old man…’ he winked. Whatever it is, this is our first own mission, savvy?’ he winked. ‘We might even be promoted when we come back.’
‘Uh-huh,’ James snorted. ‘A fat chance!’
‘Why not?’ Steve made a puzzled face. ‘We’ve been chosen for this mission, even though… you know. That means –’
‘Here was a dark matter detector workstation…’ Steve was interrupted by an already familiar voice. The Flight Engineer – James remembered his name was Dave – stood behind them. Neither he nor Steve had seen him coming.
‘With all due respect, sir,’ Steve began, making a stern face, ‘could you please step away? You cannot be here.’
The Flight Engineer’s face took on an expression that was not even surprised but stunned, and his eyes flashed with anger.
‘Aren’t you taking on too much, young man?’ he said in a manner similar to Flight Lieutenant Jennings when he was angry.
‘No one is allowed near the battle stations but me and Astronaut First Class Jenkins,’ said Steve in the same tone. The Flight Engineer grunted in displeasure.
‘Soldiers,’ he grumbled.
‘Yes, we are soldiers,’ James said firmly, straightening up. He was already tired of this civilian’s grumbling. ‘And we are here to guarantee your personal security and –’
‘Don’t exaggerate your importance, young man,’ the Flight Engineer interrupted with a contemptuous grin. ‘I’m not a military man, but I hope I have a good knowledge of technology. You’re nothing more than an operator of a drone, which transports other drones. Whatever you think of yourself, very little depends on you. And the likelihood is that nothing would depend on you.’
‘Maybe you’re right…’ James spoke calmly, not searching for the right words as he often did. There was no need for that now; the words seemed to be coming to him of their own accord. ‘And I’m not as good at technology as you are. But apparently, I can do something that you cannot, so my commanding officer and your commanding officer decided to send me here –’
‘Military paranoia,’ the Flight Engineer tossed scornfully.
‘Perhaps,’ James continued. ‘I know the possibility of an enemy attack is considered low. But that possibility exists. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here. But we are here, and it’s our duty to protect this most advanced, state-of-the-art spacecraft on its way to and from its destination. So, we’re going to fulfill our duty, whether you like it or not.’
‘You’re right, young man,’ the Flight Engineer muttered through his teeth. ‘This spacecraft is truly state-of-the-art, equipped with all the latest advances in space technology. It has unique instruments for scientific research, not for hunting after shadows.’
Suddenly, Major Jemison turned sharply to face the Flight Engineer.
‘You think we’re hunting after shadows?’ said she, raising her eyebrows. ‘You think shadows destroyed the Magellan? My doctoral supervisor, Professor Taylor, was there. A brilliant scientist, he dreamed of walking on the surface of Sedna. They killed him halfway to his dream.’
‘Politics has never been one of my –’ the Flight Engineer began but stopped under the Major’s gaze.
‘Oh, it’s so easy to hide inside your shell and not notice anything around you,’ said she abruptly. ‘By the way, I’m not a soldier either. I’m a scientist. Does that mean I am entitled to stand back and wait for others to pay with their lives so I can get back to my science? You may believe this is not our war, but I don’t.’
James thought the Major had turned out to be nothing like she seemed. He also thought she should say something about Space Force. However, she did not.
‘I was watching a video online,’ Quentin interjected, ‘a well-known analyst claimed that there were no aliens, that it was just a piece of disinformation designed to escalate the arms race in space.’
The Major snorted.
‘Whoever says that lies like Kremlin grandpa,’ she retorted with a shade of contempt in her voice. ‘Hmmm, funny expression, have no idea where it’s from,’ she added, laughing, going on, ‘well, whatever. I mean, nobody abrogated the Outer Space Treaty or the Artemis Accords.’
‘Anyway, both those documents were suspended after the attack –’ Quentin went on; the Major snorted irritably again.
‘That’s true,’ said she. ‘However, it doesn’t mean these documents are no longer valid; that’s one thing. Secondly, this author believes that the Lunar Orbital Station was destroyed by the Space Agency itself or… heh, by a secret Masonic lodge?’
The young Lieutenant shrugged.
‘No idea.’
‘No idea?’ the Major gave him a stern look. ‘It goes without saying. A conspiracy theory is attractive because it offers simple answers to complicated questions. But there are no simple answers to complex questions… usually…’ She looked around the command section. ‘I want everyone to remember once and forever we’re all one team. There should be no difference between the Space Agency and the Space Force personnel. We have a tough mission ahead of us. Everyone should do their best, and there should be no conflict between us. Young men showed us an example of discipline and devotion to duty. I expect the same from each and everyone of you.’
There was a long pause. The Flight Engineer shook his head but said nothing. Major Jemison nodded. ‘Okay, I suggest we consider the incident closed. Computer, exact time?’
‘On-board time is sixteen hours, thirty-six minutes and twelve seconds,’ reported the now familiar monotonous voice that seemed to come from everywhere.
‘Seconds seem unnecessary,’ the Major muttered.
‘I can change the settings if you want,’ Thomas replied.
‘Never mind,’ she said, ‘we don’t have much time before we start. Dave…’ she looked at the Flight Engineer, ‘we should hurry…’
A signal light flashed on the side of the battle station control panel, accompanied by a beep. Dabir’s voice, which could hardly be confused with anyone else’s, came from the speaker. The Indian asked James to go down to the gun room; James stood up and headed to the entrance hatch. The Flight Engineer passed him, unable to resist a contemptuous grin. Oliver, finally gathering his tools, caught up with James as he left the command section.
‘Good old Bowman,’ said he, nodding towards the Flight Engineer who had gone out, ‘he likes to grumble. He’d been appointed Chief Flight Engineer of the 11th Expedition just before the war. After the war began, all the expeditions were cancelled, and he lost his job. Montgomery invited him here as a junior engineer. But he has two doctorates…’
The unique survey spacecraft, demoted to a space truck, could be compared to a disturbed beehive. Voices came from everywhere. Technicians swarmed through the narrow corridors, checking various instruments. Two Endurance crewmen, whom James had never seen before, passed bulky plastic containers from hand to hand through the docking bay. Then, another crewman carried them into what Lieutenant Fournier identified as a two-in-one mess hall and kitchen. Dabir spent a long time carefully downloading a description of the weapons system and a stack of various instructions onto James’s tablet.
On his way back, James overheard an announcement over the loudspeaker. Major Jamison allowed the crew to take a short break for a snack. After the break, James and Steve spent several hours testing the weapons system with the help of the technicians. They had to turn to Thomas for assistance. The weapon system’s artificial intelligence had no interaction with the on-board computer. At the end of this process, James had to return to the gun room to sign the long text on Dabir’s tablet, confirming the technicians’ work completion.
‘Good luck,’ said the second technician, whose name James still did not know. ‘I’d imagine, boys, you’d need a lot of luck.’ He patted James on the shoulder and shook his hand firmly. And they were gone. James stood on the hatch of the gun room for a while, looking after them and not moving.
The technician’s last words stuck in his head. A strange feeling swept over him, and the question he had been pondering all along came back to his mind: should he tell Steve why he had been transferred to the auxiliary? He always felt that he had to do this, but at the same time, he was afraid to. Then he remembered that there was not too much time before the launch and hurried to the upper deck.
He found Steve standing with a dumbfounded look on his face near the hatch to the mess room where Lieutenant Leverton’s voice had been heard. The girl was arguing frantically with someone.
‘What happened, old man?’ James was surprised. Steve snorted.
‘Huh. I just wanted to talk to her, but she’s like, I’m on duty. Pff, what a –’ without finishing, Steve snorted again and shook his head.
James was quite amused at another misfortune that had befallen his mate, and he forgot that only a few minutes before he was going to go to Canossa. Major Jamison’s voice, coming over the loudspeakers, finally dispelled all his pious intentions out of his mind.
‘Attention, attention!’ Now, she spoke calmly and confidently, without any sign of the fidgeting that seemed to be her personality trait. ‘…One hour to undocking…’