They had come in one by one for a landing and had waited while the technicians moved each of the next fighter craft into the hangars underneath the Flight deck. Before he was cleared to land, James had to fire the manoeuvring thrusters and circle the spacecraft hull. The reason for that became clear to him when his fighter finally touched down and caught the arresting gear. The outside cameras picked up Lewis’s fighter standing almost in the middle of the Flight deck hangar, with a hole about twenty by twenty centimetres in its port side below the cockpit. He could only guess what had happened. James had had time to notice the outward-curving edges of the hull. And it was only now that he felt an unbelievable fatigue that pinned him to the chair, much more than the artificial gravity had been switched on as the outer gateway closed, and the hangar was completely sealed. He felt his eyes closing by themselves as if he had not slept for more than a day.

Traditional post-flight debriefing was very short. Dutton said nothing about the incident that almost happened with the transport craft. James assumed that either his mistake had not been noticed against the background of the accident with Lewis’s fighter or that everything was still to come. But there was no way to confirm or refute this assumption. As for the accident, the Command did not want to share any information with the pilots. Even the unit commanders, if they knew anything, kept quiet. Lewis, as Dabir said, was sent to sickbay immediately after landing. Steve tried to find out more about him but got another reprimand from Rowling.

When James returned to their sleeping quarters, he found almost all of his roommates were there in full force. Only two were absent. The others were sitting around the table, trying to figure out what had happened during the training flight. James entered when Mike Hancock was talking about Lewis’s fighter. He, too, seemed to have noticed the nature of the damage to the fighter’s hull.

‘…A micrometeoroid?’ Wil interrupted Mike questioningly. This pilot of A-Flight was known to James only by his name.

‘Well-well, bad shot,’ the Sergeant laughed. ‘A micrometeoroid would have had to pierce the hull. Multiply the velocity by the speed of the fighter. You needn’t know any advanced math to calculate the impact force. This is the first thing. Secondly, in this case, the edges would be concave inwards.’

‘Yep, you’re right,’ Wil tapped the table with his fingertips. ‘What then? Some sorta of manoeuvring thruster malfunction? Maybe…’

‘Where’s the manoeuvring thruster,’ Kevin interjected, ‘and where’s that hole? The manoeuvring thruster has nothing to do with it –’

‘Exactly,’ Mike chimed in. ‘Plus, to blow a hole in a fighter’s hull, whether from the outside or the inside, the impact has to be very powerful. This composite material was developed based on research into the wreckage of enemy vehicles found on the moon’s surface after their first attack.’

‘Is it the same one where a pilot’s chair was found without a pilot?’ Steve asked.

‘Well, that too,’ Wil said before Mike. ‘They actually found the wreckage of two different devices. They studied both for a long time and were able to partially reconstruct the design, which was then copied for our fighters –’

‘Actually not,’ Mike held up his hand, stopping Wil’s monologue. ‘The design of our fighters is based on developments from the Second Cold War. Or maybe even the First. There were two or three American projects and our – I mean, British – Skylon. Well, and others I can’t remember. The main problem was that a vehicle had to be able to take off and land like a conventional atmospheric aircraft, but operate outside the atmosphere. Until the compact version of the Cooper engine appeared, all attempts failed. It was necessary to have an additional launch vehicle for ascent or a booster rocket like the first space shuttles. Both made launching much more complicated and much more expensive. Using such vehicles on a mass scale was not profitable.’

‘Is it possible to take off from the Earth’s surface with the Cooper engine?’ Wil shook his head in doubt.

‘Impossible,’ said Mike. ‘The Cooper engine only functions in a vacuum. Even to take off from Mars, you need a conventional turbojet. The prototype took off like an atmospheric fighter jet with a turbojet engine, and the Cooper engine kicked in at the edge of the Earth’s atmosphere.’

‘There are no turbojets on our fighters,’ Kevin said. Mike nodded in agreement. ‘We don’t need them. We fly outside the atmosphere anyway. And in fact, I wouldn’t advise you to take your fighter into any atmosphere. Unlike the orbital shuttles, our fighters do not have a special coating to withstand high temperatures. It was on the prototype. But the production fighters are built without it. Firstly, it adds weight, and secondly, it adds cost. So what’s the point? We start from the carrier spacecraft anyway.’

‘Uh-huh, unless we have to retreat to Earth,’ muttered Ethan, Wil’s usually silent bunk neighbour. James had not yet had a chance to communicate with him and knew him only by name.

‘Are you joking?’ Mike reacted similarly. ‘Better not. Really, if it comes to that, we’d be dead by then. And that’s no joke at all. But we digress a little –’

‘I can’t understand,’ Steve interjected. ‘If the design and all the systems are so super reliable, what could cause an accident?’

‘Super reliable?’ Mike snorted contemptuously. ‘In reality, there is nothing like that. The probability of failure might be very low, but it always exists. Combining alien technology with our own isn’t so easy anyway. Besides, there have been a lot of accidents with atmospheric aircraft. Check the history of aeronautics. How many accidents have there been since the Wright brothers? Louis Blériot died in an accident –’

‘Huh, now you’ve found a mare’s nest!’ said Wil laughed and continued admonishingly, ‘Louis Blériot died of a heart attack in his bed at about sixty. Look in any encyclopaedia.’

‘Okay, okay, I’m wrong,’ Mike waved him off. ‘Anyway, the list is long. Apollo 13, for example, space shuttle Challenger –’

‘Apollo 13 hasn’t crashed,’ Ethan objected. ‘They just couldn’t land on the moon.’

‘Yeah…’ Mike nodded, ‘due to a serious accident that almost cost them their lives. Well, what else have we got? Columbia broke up on re-entry, two Russian spacecraft came back with dead bodies; the Chinese had setbacks too, and finally, the Big Moon Bummer –’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean the second attempt to return to the Moon when everything turned upside down. But we digress again.’

‘C’mon, it’s like reading tea leaves…’

James had no desire to listen any longer. Lights out was approaching, according to the on-board clock; he climbed into his bunk. Nevertheless, as on his first night aboard Endurance, he tossed and turned for a long time, unanswered questions running through his mind.

He expected to be called by the Flight Commander or even the Squadron Commander, but nobody called him. The deputy squadron commander, Squadron Leader King, announced at the morning formation the indefinite suspension of training flights and a full background check on all fighters without going into details. The inspection was to be carried out by the technical staff. Pilots have plenty of free time. They wandered aimlessly around the hangar, occasionally discussing the incident.

Squadron Leader Dutton did not appear in the hangar. Flight Lieutenant Jennings wandered gloomier than a cloud among the fighters, saying nothing to anyone, just brushing off questions. Before dinner, there was a rumour that a special commission had been set up to investigate the Bravo 6 incident. Dabir informed James of this in his usual, completely impassive manner, as if what had happened had nothing to do with the technician. James even wondered what had to happen to evoke an emotion in the Indian’s face.

Unlike usual, the lunchtime junior staff mess was almost dead quiet, broken only by the rustling of packaging and the barely audible chewing of pilots’ and technicians’ jaws. James and Steve, Kevin and Mike Hancock, sitting at the same table as usual, did not exchange a word either. It was only at the very end that Steve suddenly perked up.

‘Look, men,’ said he, ‘let’s go to Sickbay and see how Lewis is, shall we? They’re still not telling us anything about him. It’s a bad sign.’

The idea was immediately supported by silent nods. A short part of the afternoon was relatively free for the pilots of B-Flight. Flight Sergeant Rowling had once explained to James quite clearly they could only leave the squadron base with her permission or that of a senior officer. But neither of them was going to show up. Jennings’s cabin door was closed, as were the doors to the other commanders’ cabins.

‘We’ve got a good and very human reason. I don’t think we need to ask permission,’ Sergeant Hancock resolved the problem as a senior in rank. ‘If Rowling starts to nag, send her to me. I’ll make things clear to her.’

They reached the sickbay without incident. Hancock knew where to go and how to get there, and James had become quite familiar with that part of the spacecraft over the past few weeks. The problem occurred when they got to the entrance hatch, which appeared to be locked. All four froze for a few seconds, exchanging confused glances. Finally, the Sergeant made up his mind and was about to call the hatch began to open as if by itself.

How and why this happened became clear at once. Dr Kirkpatrick appeared behind the hatch as it opened. She looked at the four pilots lined up in a semicircle with a slightly surprised expression and raised her left eyebrow slightly. ‘Please don’t tell me you all got sick together,’ she said slightly ironically.

‘No… er… sir –’ Mike began, but did not finish. The brave Space Force Sergeant, facing the senior officer of the Space Agency, seemed at a loss. James squeezed in between him and Steve.

‘Hi, Dr Jessica,’ he said. ‘Actually, we’d like to see Lewis… I mean, Astronaut Second Class Blackwo –’

Dr Kirkpatrick smiled. ‘Came to see your friend? Yes, of course. And you’re James, I presume?’

He nodded. The doctor laughed.

‘That means, my memory serves well,’ said she. ‘As for your friend, I have to say he only has a slight concussion. I hope to write him out tomorrow, so…’

‘Well, maybe… just for a few minutes –’ James began; she waved her hand again.

‘No problem if you want, but not altogether, just one or two of you. This is a sickbay, not Grand Central.’

‘Okay, James and Steve,’ Hancock made a quick decision. ‘Kevin and I will wait here.’

‘Well, come in,’ the doctor stepped aside and let them both enter the hatch.

Lewis looked much better than James had expected, but his face was pale. When he saw his friends he tried to stand up.

‘How’re you?’ asked Steve.

‘I’m okay…’ Lewis’s voice sounded weak, but not like the voice of a seriously injured. ‘…Doc said I just had a slight concussion. When the fighter started to spin around, the straps gave way and I was thrown out of the chair. Thank God I was wearing a helmet; otherwise my brains would have splattered all over the cockpit. Have they found out what happened?

‘They told us nothing,’ said James. ‘What d’you remember?’

‘Just that I rolled over.’

‘What does that mean – rolled over?’

Lewis shook his head and grimaced, obviously in pain. ‘That means upside down,’ he said. ‘I wanna say a hundred and eighty degrees.’

‘Well… have you seen anything before that? Your fighter couldn’t have just rolled over without any reason.’

Lewis sighed sadly and shrugged. ‘There was nothing,’ said he and sighed sadly again. ‘In a sense, everything was going as usual, and suddenly – bang – everything started to spin before my eyes –’

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

‘I see,’ James interrupted his mate, thinking that nothing was clear to him yet. The cause of the accident was still a mystery, and Lewis’s words were no help in solving it.

‘I guess I have to write a report,’ Lewis continued, ‘but I don’t know what to write.’

‘Report?’ Steve looked at Lewis, puzzled.

‘The incident –’ Lewis swayed slightly as if suddenly dizzy and grabbed the bedrail.

‘Enough…’ Dr Kirkpatrick appeared behind them, interrupting the conversation delicately but insistently. James thought to himself, either she noticed what was going on with her patient, or the rules did limit the length of a visit. ‘He needs to stay here for a while,’ she continued, ‘and you two have other things to do, right?’

‘No problem, Dr Jessica,’ said James. ‘Thank you.’ He waved a friendly hand at Lewis, ‘Get well soon.’

They all left Sickbay in a less depressed mood. There was no need to worry about Lewis; he was on the mend. ‘That’s the main thing,’ as Sergeant Hancock said. Flight Sergeant Rowling was fortunately not on their way, but Jennings appeared in the corridor as the four passed through the hatch to the living quarters. The Section commander’s expression spoke volumes.

He nodded briefly to Mike and Kevin and made an expressive gesture to James and Steve. ‘My cabin,’ he snapped. ‘Both, now!’

They had to obey.

‘Report!’ the Section commander said, shutting the door behind him. Silence reigned for a while. James had no idea what the Flight Lieutenant was talking about, and neither did Steve, it was his impression.

‘Report what, sir?’ he said after a long pause.

‘Report me on the bloody acrobatic stunts you performed in space,’ said Jennings angrily. ‘But first of all, I want to know what the hell you threw that concert on the air?’

Once again, James had no idea what this was about, and only then he remembered. ‘We… um… we were worried… I mean about –’

‘Worried about your friend?’ The Flight Lieutenant’s tone struck James as mocking. ‘I never thought I’d have to lead a team of girl guides…’ He took a few steps around the cabin and turned. ‘…You two, do you even know where you are? Or do you think your uniform is just a cool outfit? You are Space Force pilots. You are in a combat situation… Okay, today is not a real combat situation. But you may find yourself in such a situation very soon. In such a situation, you’d also be worrying about your mate and clogging the air with useless chatter?’

‘With all due respect, sir…’ James gathered his courage to interrupt the Flight Lieutenant, ‘we didn’t clog the air with useless chatter. When I noticed Lewis’s fighter… I mean Blackwood… I mean, Bravo 6 going off course –’

‘I haven’t given you permission to speak yet, Mr Jenkins!’ the Flight Lieutenant barked. However, your words just confirm that you don’t understand a damn thing anyhow. Blackwood reported the problems to his Section commander. Your chatter prevented us from understanding what happened and making the necessary decision…’

James suddenly thought he understood the reason for this performance. It seemed that someone had already managed to twist Jennings’s tail, and it was not just Squadron Leader Dutton. The Squadron commander might have had a hand in it.

‘…Your first duty…’ the Flight Lieutenant continued, and James had to pull himself out of his thoughts. ‘…Was, is, and is going to be the execution of orders…’ Jennings emphasised the last word with intonation. ‘…You were given a specific and very understandable order which provided for no initiative on your part, regardless of what was going on…’

The Flight Lieutenant paused. James chose to remain silent; Steve also remained silent. Jennings took a deep breath and waved his hand. ‘Okay,’ he said curtly. ‘I hope something got through to you both. But what the hell, Jenkins, you’ve decided to do aerobatics, I’d like to know very much.’

James had waited for such a question, but now it came unexpectedly. He did not immediately find what to say. ‘I was… I got sidetracked,’ he said after a short pause, pulling himself together. ‘And it was entirely my fault. Steve… I mean, Astronaut Second Class Wolverton had nothing to do with it. I’m ready to be fully responsible… sir –’ He did not know what else to say. The explanation he had prepared in advance, which had seemed quite convincing, suddenly disappeared from his mind. He fell silent.

‘You will be responsible, Jenkins, you will be, no doubt about it…’ the Flight Lieutenant’s voice came to him, accompanied by a deep sigh. ‘So,’ Jennings continued, taking a few steps that now took him to the front door. ‘I’m not going to force you to work on reports. I can already see you can’t put two words together. The problem is that very soon you don’t just have to put two words together; you have to put a lot more words together. The Investigation Commission will call you both, and I won’t be able to help you. I am a witness like you. You will have to give evidence yourself. This evidence must be clear, precise, and honest. Also, if this goes to court, you should have to repeat what you’ve said under oath. I mean, there should be no contradiction.

‘This is all too serious. Games over! Childhood is over; understand that at last. Saving the galaxy sitting on a sofa with a game console in your hands is not the same as saving your life in space. You both joined the space forces of your own free will. No one forced you. So you have to answer for yourself. I’m not your nanny. I’m not here to wipe your snot. I’m your commanding officer. That is a completely different concept and it means something different. If it hasn’t sunk in yet, you have nothing to do here, let alone wear this uniform. I’m not going to dismiss you from flying, but until the Investigation Commission has finished its work, you’re all not going to fly, so –’ without finishing his mind, he took a deep breath and waved his hand. ‘…Wait for the call to testify. From this moment on, you should not discuss the incident with anyone, including the other unit staff and the craft’s crew. Understood?’

‘Yessir!’ James and Steve responded in chorus.

‘Very good… I mean very bad…’ Jennings said the last words quietly as if to himself as if he did not wish to speak aloud, and they came out automatically. ‘Dismissed!’

They left the Flight Lieutenant’s cabin without exchanging a word and walked silently to their sleeping quarters, where they found Mike and Kevin, who did not ask them a single question. Perhaps they also had been instructed to do so by their Section commander. The time before dinner passed slowly. There was absolutely nothing to do. James was not too keen on dinner, even when it finally came. Steve insisted on going to the dining room, James following more automatically than consciously.

Almost half the seats at the tables were empty. It did not take James long to realise that only the pilots were at the dinner. There was not a single technician, neither junior nor senior. It seemed that the technical inspection had not yet been completed. Again, the dining room was almost silent. James, trying to prepare for a meeting with the Investigation Commission, went back in his mind to yesterday. But it was difficult to gather his thoughts, let alone formulate the testimony he would have to give. He clearly understood that he had made a mistake, which could not be attributed to technical problems, for there were none.

His manoeuvre, which almost resulted in a collision with a transport ship, was unlikely to have gone unnoticed by Mission Control. If Jennings was aware of it, so was the Squadron Command. There could be no doubt about that. Such a mistake could not be explained away as a simple distraction. Who would accept that explanation? A pilot should not be distracted by anything. Jennings’s tantrum, James thought, was stupid and completely inappropriate. But the Flight Lieutenant was right about one thing: in combat, his mistake could cost not only his life but Steve’s as well. James realised that he had unwittingly framed his friend and wingman, which made him feel extremely bad.

On the way back to the sleeping quarters, just outside the entrance hatch to the living compartment, someone pulled on his sleeve. James turned, expecting to see Oliver. The boy’s manner sometimes annoyed him, though he usually did not react. However, at that moment, he was not eager to see this young genius, a part-time Specialist 3rd Class of the Engineering Service. However, the tirade he had prepared in advance, trying to mentally soften the expressions to as harmless a level as possible, got stuck in his throat. As it turned out, someone else was pulling his sleeve. Corporal Tomyn was behind him.

‘We need to talk,’ said he curtly.

‘Really?’ James had not expected this at all. He had no idea what this type had in mind for him and why now.

‘This is very important for you,’ Tomyn looked at James intently, then gestured to him aside without saying another word.

‘What do you want?’ asked James, a little irritably. Nevertheless, he followed the Corporal, only stopping when Tomyn had stopped, turned to him, and smiled wryly.

‘Telemetry,’ he pronounced slowly, almost in syllables.

‘What damn telemetry?’ James hurried to interrupt the Corporal. He was senior in rank but serving in another unit and not currently performing a duty that put him in a commanding position. Subordination could be ignored.

‘Your fighter’s telemetry,’ Tomyn continued in the same tone, as if not noticing anything, and at the same slightly slower pace, ‘as recorded by the instruments in the control centre.’

‘And?’

‘I’m sure,’ Tomyn chuckled, ‘you’re guessing.’

James thought Tomin was hinting at something, but he did not quite understand what and said nothing. The Corporal’s gaze changed, and now he seemed mocking James.

‘…What do you know about the explosion of Launch Complex 62 at Cape Canaveral?’ said he.

‘Not much, just what was on the news. But what does it matter?’ James still did not understand.

‘You must know,’ said the Corporal.

‘I must do nothing.’ Corporal Tomyn was beginning to annoy and infuriate James with this conversation, initiated for some incomprehensible purpose. He wanted to say something rude and leave. But Tomyn never raised a brow, even if he noticed something.

‘So what do you think,’ he began again, ‘what happened there?’

‘You’re talking about the Launch Complex exploding?’ James snapped back. ‘There’s nothing to think about. It was an accident.’

Tomyn grinned, ‘Oh, yes indeed, as the media informed, so as not to disturb the civilians. They’ve all been so nervous lately, you know. But actually, it was sabotage. The perpetrators have not yet been found. Anyway, I heard nothing new about this case before we left Earth. But I hope you understand what I mean.’

James made no reply. He still had no idea what Tomyn was getting at.

‘…I mean,’ the Corporal went on, ‘it’s not that hard to make a few adjustments to your fighter’s telemetry data to lead the Investigation Commission to the idea of sabotage. And unlike the Cape Canaveral case, they won’t have to look so far for the culprit. They could easily think you’d intended to ram the transport craft –’ He paused, staring intently at James. ‘Savvy, Jimmy boy?’

James was flabbergasted. He had not expected anything like this.

‘Ridiculous!’ cried he finally. ‘Why would I want to ram the transport craft?’

The Corporal shook his head. ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘have you ever wondered why only the Western Alliance holds this invisible front line? Where’s the Eastern Alliance? Where are all these Chinese and Russians? They have lost spacecraft and astronauts, too. Or none of that affects them at all, eh?’ Tomyn paused and continued with a smile, ‘You should have thought about that, I suppose, since you’re such a smart boy who not only managed to get a pilot’s certificate but was also promoted to the rank of Astronaut First Class, even though after the Flying School, as fourth on the list, you’re only supposed to be an Astronaut Second Class.’

James had nothing to say and remained silent. Tomyn smiled his predatory smile again and nodded. ‘Guess what sorta jam you’re in now, Jimmy boy? So, it’s not ridiculous at all, because Flight Lieutenant Moncroft is a serious man.’

‘Who?’

Tomyn raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Don’t you know him? Oh, yeah…’ he seemed to catch himself, ‘how could you know? Officially, he’s listed in the Technical Service, but in reality – the Secret and he’s a member of the Investigation Commission. He can put two and two together very easily. It smells, let me tell you frankly, no longer of dismissal from flying, as Jankie threatened you, but of something worse.’

James felt his insides go cold. This type had him in the palm of his hand. The fact that he knew what Jennings had been talking about behind closed doors said a lot. It was hard to imagine what he could do with the telemetry, but obviously, he could do something. Otherwise, he would not have spoken so confidently. ‘What does he want?’ a thought flashed through James’s mind. It could not be money, James had no money, and Tomyn knew that. ‘So he needs something else…’

The Corporal must have noticed something, perhaps from the expression on James’s face. He nodded and continued, ‘…However, I can work on the telemetry in the other direction. You needn’t know the details; the main thing is what the Commission would see. For example, I can make them see not your crap, but a programme failure. Then at least you will keep your rank. Most likely you won’t be dismissed from flying…’

‘What d’you want?’ James finally decided to ask outright. He had no doubt that Tomyn would want something from him in return. It came out hoarse. His mouth was almost as dry as it had been the moment he had seen his fighter heading straight for the transport craft.

Tomyn smiled, only his smile looked more like a predatory grin and immediately disappeared from his face.

‘Just a little,’ he said almost indifferently. ‘From time to time let me know what your mates are talking about during their off-duty hours. I’m sure it won’t be hard for you. All you have to do is to listen and memorise.’

James finally got it all. Steve’s suspicions were confirmed and even more. Corporal Tomyn was not only an informer himself. He also recruited his own informers, one of whom could become James. It was the last thing he wanted to think about, but now it became clear that this bastard could very well ruin him. Sticky fear crept up again from somewhere deep inside him, but he managed to say out loud, not without struggling, ‘I’m not going to be a snitch.’

The words came out hoarsely, barely audible. The Corporal rounded his eyes, which seemed unnatural.

‘Oh dear, what’s the word, Jimmy?’ he exclaimed in an equally unnatural tone. ‘That’s not what I meant. Of course, if you’re such a noble Galahad…’ Tomyn’s face twisted into another contemptuous grin, ‘…you can refuse, I won’t insist. But in that case, I’m afraid you have a risk to part not only with this badge…’ he flicked his fingers at the Astronaut First Class chevron on James’s flight suit sleeve, ‘but also with this uniform, and perhaps even your freedom. Do you need it? By the way, if I say retell me what you all talk about before bedtime, I mean just retell, nothing more. If Moncroft had been in my place, it would have been another matter. You won’t get rid of him easily…Well, that’s just for the future. Keep that in mind. You may not even say their names.’

‘Only a court martial can charge me with sabotage…’ James made one last attempt. ‘You’ll have to testify under oath –’

‘Me?’ Tomyn shook his head negatively. ‘Nope. By the way, testimony even under oath is a subjective thing. But telemetry data is objective, no court would doubt that. It’s not even the same as a self-written confession. It’s like a security camera catching you at a crime scene. Don’t forget, we’re in the military service, in wartime. As the saying goes, inter arma enim silent leges; do you know what that means? You don’t. That means when the guns speak, the laws fall silent. So, your references to the Habeas Corpus Act are totally misplaced.

He paused, staring at James, and James seemed to read the Corporal’s cold cynicism in his gaze.

‘I have to think about it,’ he forced out, feeling the panic seize him again. Tomyn shook her head.

‘I’m afraid it’s too late, Jimmy boy. The Investigation Commission meeting should be –’ he glanced at the nearest intercom monitor at the entrance hatch to the living compartment, ‘within the next two hours. They’ve only requested Bravo 6’s telemetry. But your fighter’s telemetry and other data will certainly be requested, perhaps even today. I’ve to run myself ragged to get you out of this shit…’