Suddenly Astronaut Read online

  Suddenly Astronaut

  by

  Andrew J. Morgan

  Copyright © Andrew J. Morgan

  http://www.andrewjamesmorgan.com

  Other titles by Andrew J. Morgan:

  New York Deep

  New Dawn

  Vessel

  Noah's Ark

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Please note: Suddenly Astronaut was written and edited in the UK where some of the spellings and word usage vary slightly from US English.

  Chapter 1

  It was an exciting day for Jane and Adam Forrest. It was the crescendo of a chain of all the exciting days that had lead to this one, a journey of hard work, dedication—and a whole lot of chance, they'd be the first to admit. They'd met at university, class of 2032, where they'd been sitting next to each other for first-year Elements of Astromechanics. He'd noticed her, but she hadn't noticed him. Not until he'd spilled his drink on her. After a small, volatile blip right at the very beginning, they'd been inseparable. Their wedding day was described by close friends as "the nerdiest thing on planet Earth." Costumes were involved. That was the first in the chain of exciting days that led Jane and Adam to today.

  Another exciting day was when not one but two letters arrived from Helios Technologies Corporation, the most esteemed private aerospace manufacturer and developer in the world. They tore them open at the same time, hearts in their throats. They'd both been awarded an internship in the interplanetary division, starting at the end of the final semester. They tried not to be smug about it with their friends and classmates, but it was hard. Their friends and classmates let them have their moment.

  The third most exciting day of their lives was the acceptance onto Project Jove, the largest off-Earth research station ever built. They had committed themselves to a life orbiting the gas giant Jupiter to study the composition and history of it and its moons—and when they said life, they meant life. They would live there and die there.

  At first it was easy to imagine their new lives together, and then it became hard as they pictured the lives they'd leave behind. Of course, Jane's parents—Adam's had died when he was very young—were adamant that the young couple should fulfil their lives' work and take the leap, but as the months of training wore on, the decision certainly became less easy to justify.

  Adam suggested it was the toll of the training itself, which was a complete recalibration of their existence. Although living on board the station was to be much like living on Earth, they—and the forty-nine other families joining them—would be solely responsible for the maintenance and upkeep of the facility, and that required a thorough understanding of everything on board. Towards the end, if a deconstructed pile of parts had been heaped out before them, Jane and Adam would have been able to build the station from them, easy.

  They could have quit at any time, with no consequences aside from bruised egos. Helios policy was very open and very clear that any family wishing to back out of the project could, and held frequent psychological evaluations with its successful applicants to ensure their suitability. This wasn't the first off-planet habitation, but it was the farthest, and with every extra metre between the inhabitants and Earth came increased risk and increased response time. Some families had voluntarily dropped out, others had been told they could no longer continue, with one even filing a lawsuit against Helios for compensation for the house they'd sold in anticipation of the program. The requirements were extremely strict.

  But Jane and Adam Forrest persisted, despite the nagging doubt, despite the terrifying uncertainty. It was their dream, and they would see it through. The excitement prevailed.

  And now that day had come. Nervous anticipation kept their breaths shallow and their smiles wide.

  "I can't believe we're finally doing this," Jane said to Adam.

  Adam clasped Jane's hand. "Neither can I."

  The journey itself would take five and a half months with a gravity assist from the sun to accelerate them to two hundred and fifty thousand kilometres per hour, with Jupiter and Earth at their closest points and the window for the Hohmann transfer orbit open.

  The launch was full of drama, a stark contrast to the monotony of the journey proceeding, with noise and vibration and flame. A reusable ferry took them into orbit and on to the lunar transfer station, to the craft that would be their home for close to half a year. Despite the training, the artificial gravity—and the motion sickness that came with it—took some getting used to.

  On that journey they got to know their fellow crew even better than they already did. The other families were much like them, scientists and life partners, some with children, some without. The children were no younger than one and no older than five. The Wenzigs were actually expecting, due soon after they arrived. This was encouraged—the project relied on the growth, health and integration of the families for it to continue on into future generations.

  Jane and Adam had no child, although Jane often wondered what it would be like to grow up as a child orbiting Jupiter and to never know Earth. To her it seemed strange, but she knew to them it would seem normal, which made it seem even stranger in a way. It was the children that drove home the permanence of the mission, and a bubble of homesickness welled in Jane for a month midway through the journey.

  Both she and Adam busied themselves through the transfer with drills and study and whatever else the guidelines required of them. Every waking hour was dictated, such had their lives with Helios been up to now, and such would be forever beyond. They didn't mind that though; they savoured the routine. Like many intellectuals, they found unstructured time to be quite torturous. They lived to be busy. "We've got great faith in you," Zachery Dance, Helios CEO, had said to them as he shook hands with them both on the day of the launch. He'd said similar to almost everybody on the crew, however Adam was insistent that the sincerity of their address had been a touch more committed. Jane had rolled her eyes.

  Adam reminded Jane of the importance of their decision as Jane's longing for home hit hardest. She understood what he was saying, and nodded to show so, but deep in her was a synapse that fired against her will regardless, ignoring her logic and reason. She didn’t want to go back to Earth, but the synapse, the lonely little synapse, against the advice of all its neighbouring synapses, did.

  That is, until that synapse got to see Jupiter.

  It had been said to them many times during training that they could not truly know how big Jupiter was until they saw it for themselves. For a long while it was a dot among dots, and then it became a smudge, and a while after that it became a ball. From then, it very quickly became a sizeable part of the view, until the balance of black to red-brown swung in the gas giant's favour. When the billowing stripes became clear to the naked eye, Jane's homesickness vanished. That day jumped quickly to the top of the most exciting days she and Adam had ever had.

  As the black all but disappeared, the Jovian rings emerged, and within them a twinkle of reflected light shone as a beacon of their destination. There it was—home. The station. Could it look
more delicate under the looming orb of Jupiter? The schedule allowed for a party that night. Emotions were mixed.

  The next week, as they docked, disembarked and settled in, passed very quickly. Jane was surprised how tired she found herself, but it was understandable. It was like they'd said: you didn't know what it was really like until you were there. Countless hours of preparation seemed like a fleeting introduction now they were actually doing it for real. It was the sense of physicality that was different. This was no drill.

  The first briefing on the first full day was when it properly hit home for the Jane and Adam. A welcome presentation from the station director reminding the new crew, in batches of ten, of the emergency and safety procedures started the day, with an introduction to the station's computer following. Called Tom, a contraction of Automaton, the computer had been designed with an LHI, or Lifelike Human Interface. Tom was a talking computer, something Jane and Adam had seen before, but not to this degree of complexity. Tom was also an experiment, one they were subsequently relieved to hear could be switched off if preferable.

  Tom then introduced himself. "Hi there!" he said. "If you need to talk to me, just say my name. My voice is directional, so only you will hear me. Ask me anything!"

  "Tom will learn how each of you prefers to communicate and will develop individual personalities to suit you all best," the station director reassured them.

  A tour of the Jove station came next. Their quarters, of course, they had already seen. Every cabin provided redundancy for up to four passengers: two parents, two children. Procreation was very much a part of the program, and it was—within the schedule guidelines set by Helios—actively encouraged. The cabins were nicely appointed, if a little sparse, and they could easily accommodate several lifetimes.

  Next were the recreational areas. Participants were expected to achieve a quota of fitness every day—not just of the body, but the mind, too. So the recreational areas were broken down into two sections: physical and mental. Logic tests designed not only to keep users mentally fit but to also assist with the diagnoses of stress, depression or any other psychological condition supplemented a physical regime of cardio and strength training every day for two hours. For lighter recreation and entertainment during free time, users were encouraged to retire to their cabins to avoid disturbing others.

  The working day was spread across the station, dependent on the expertise of the passenger—and the age. Schooling from the earliest ages all the way to active duty was provided to prolong the generational extent of the mission, which was forecast to have a hundred-year lifespan, maybe more. For the adults, an array of laboratories was on hand, ready to uncover the secrets of the gas giant.

  To end the tour, the best was saved until last: the observation deck, a window onto the planet filled with a view of those milky bands. It was a sight that never failed to make Jane's heart skip a beat.

  "I still can't believe it," Jane said to Adam as they took a break for lunch in the canteen. The air was filled with clattering trays and cutlery. "Are we really here? Is this really real?"

  Adam reached across to Jane and clasped her hand. "It better be,' he replied with a grin, "or I'm going to be pretty upset when I wake up."

  Work began right away, which started with the calibration of all their equipment to their preferred parameters, which they discussed on the walk from the cabin—that is, until they had to stop to let a line of children led by one of the teachers walk by. It was a most surreal sight. Adam actually laughed aloud.

  By lunchtime, work was already underway. Every person on board was fed assigned tasks daily, which they had to follow to the letter. In a way, it was kind of easy and not too taxing—hence the psychological portion of the day's training—but even so, the routine kept Jane and Adam's minds occupied.

  It wasn't until the second month that the situation took a turn for the unexpected. Jane seemed to have developed stomach flu overnight, so she reported in to Helios and took the morning to go to the infirmary. Adam, after much resistance, went to work as normal, feeling fine, although he struggled to concentrate as he worried more and more about Jane. It was almost lunchtime when he got the call.

  "Excuse me, Adam," Tom said softly. "Doctor Franz Whittaker is calling for you."

  Adam, who'd read the last line of his day's routine three times over, said "Put him on."

  The panel in front of Adam swiped the routine to one side to replace it with a man's face.

  "Is she okay?" Adam asked.

  "Hi, Adam. Jane's okay. You need to get down here, though."

  Adam could feel his throat close up. "Is it serious?"

  "I think it's best if you just come down here."

  Adam logged out of his station and reported the break with Helios, then hurried as fast as he could through the station and down to the infirmary. When he arrived, he found Jane sitting in the entrance, talking and laughing with Whittaker.

  "What's going on?" Adam asked, looking between them both, confused.

  "Come and have a seat," Whittaker said. Jane beamed at Adam. It clicked. Shakily, he sat. He needed to hear it out loud.

  "Congratulations, Mr Forrest." Whittaker said, hands clasped in front of him while he held back a smile. "What an exciting day! You're going to be a father."

  Chapter 2

  As the ground rushed up to meet him, Ben Forrest dared himself to dip ever closer, wind ripping at his clothes. At the last moment, blades of grass whipping at his belly, he pulled up, soaring high into the cotton candy puffs of cloud floating above. They exploded into dust as he pierced through them, tickling him and making him laugh. He dipped down again, rolling and twirling, arms outstretched, the thundering wind pounding at his eardrums. Then, as he neared the ground for a second time, he watched as it opened up and swallowed him, laughing shrilly as he disappeared into nothingness.

  "I'm awake, I'm awake …" Ben groaned as darkness gave way to vision. A low light was building slowly around the ceiling of his bedroom, a soft glow that he supposed was mimicking the rising sun. From what he'd read, that was what it was like, anyway.

  "I know you're awake, but awake doesn't mean out of bed," Tom said irritably. "Get up please, young man."

  Eyes still slits, Ben hauled himself up. What had he done to deserve this? Every day—except weekends, which right now, midweek, felt like more of a myth than a reality—he was forced to get up at eight in the morning, and every day he hated it.

  "Why can't I get up when I wake up?" he groaned.

  "Because then you'll never get up," Tom retorted.

  "Ha ha."

  Washed and dressed, hair still wet and a toothpaste stain on his sweater, Ben hauled his school bag into the living area and dumped it on the table. His parents had already gone to work, probably an hour or so earlier, and he wouldn't see them again until later that night.

  "What would you like for breakfast?" Tom asked. "And what on Earth is that in your bag?"

  "Bacon and eggs please. That? That's my school project."

  "I'm afraid you've already had your allocation of high-fat breakfast for this week. You can have yoghurt and fruit, or cereal. And your school project is supposed to stay at school. When did you bring that back? I didn't see you bring it back."

  "Fine, I'll have the cereal. Put lots of sugar on it though, please. And you don't get to see everything I do," he added with a smirk. It was true; Ben had snuck his project into his bag in a blind spot of Tom's cameras. He wanted to work on it more earlier this morning to catch up, but he'd been having a great dream about flying and grass and clouds instead.

  A bowl of cereal emerged from the food dispenser, sugar absent. Ben took it sulkily, and ate it in loud, sucking chomps. He knew it annoyed Tom to hear him eat like that, and he also knew that Tom had learned that if he told Ben about it, he would only do it more. Sometimes Tom threatened to use the security measures afforded to him to stop Ben behaving in such a disgusting manner, but so far that had never happened. Although some of the othe
r kids at school had mentioned that Tom had electrocuted them as a punishment before, Ben didn't believe it. They were just trying to get Tom into trouble. He wished they wouldn't.

  "You may be behind on your project, but that doesn't mean you can take it home without permission."

  "Teacher wouldn't give me permission."

  "That's a lie and you know it."

  Ben sighed. Tom was right. "Fine. I didn't want to ask in front of the other kids. They're all ahead of me and I didn't want them thinking I was stupid."

  "Why would you care what they think?"

  "I don't."

  That was a lie, too, of sorts. Ben didn't care what the other kids thought, but he did care when they picked on him and called him names, like "shorty" and "stupid" and "stick legs". He'd not worn shorts ever since then, even for physical training. And when they did call him names, his mind went blank and his face red. It was only hours afterwards, when his face had finally returned to its usual pale complexion that he thought of something to say in return. Not that he ever would; the instigator of most of his suffering, a fellow pupil called Bruce Wenzig, was about a head taller than him and could probably snap him much like the stick he often compared him to.

  Ben finished his breakfast in silence. He thought about flying again, and a warm buzz of excitement flickered through him as he remembered that he would be thirteen in two weeks. Thirteen. That magical number that meant you were old enough to board one of the fleet of small tugs that performed external work on the station and take a tour from the outside. That was his goal, his focus. It would be his first step towards achieving his dream of flying.

  Bag over his shoulder, Ben left the cabin and waited for the line of children to come past so he could join them and go to school.

  "When do you think I'll actually be able to pilot one of the tugs?" he asked Tom as he waited.

  "You have to pass your basic flight training to pilot a tug, and advanced flight training to become fully operational. That's part of the syllabus for your higher education. I've told you this before."