Visions of the Future (5 page)

1

A Flash of Starlight

Kelric spoke into the empty air of the cockpit. “Glint Control, I’m ready to give it another go.”

“Standby, Glint One Eight.” Lieutenant Tyrson’s voice came over the audiocom, sounding so clear he could have been right next to Kelric’s reclined seat instead of on the ground far below. “Glint One Eight, tracking and instrumentation are go. You’re cleared for test procedure four. Calculations indicate your wing stress will be within safe limits.”

Safe?
An unwelcome thought rose from a hidden corner of Kelric’s mind.
So what? You have nothing worth keeping safe.

He banished the thought back to its dark recess. Then he whipped his plane through a dizzying set of loops and rolls, uncaring of the g-forces that pressed him into his seat. He lay more than sat in the tight cockpit, with the computer console and display panels in front of him. Data streamed across the visor of his faceplate, changing so fast to keep up with his maneuvers that it blurred. Holomaps of the planet Diesha turned on his screens, the deserts shaded like orange and red paint mixing on a palette. Isolated mountains broke the land’s flatness in convoluted spears, and no clouds showed in a sky so blue it seemed to vibrate.

Kelric pulled out of his last loop and grinned. “How does that read, Lieutenant?”

Tyrson chuckled. “Like a dream.”

And what a dream,
Kelric thought. He was the first pilot to test the Glint-18, a rocket fighter powered by nuclear fusion that made other planes he had flown seem like slugs.

Captain,
the Glint’s computer thought.
How can a dream read?

It’s just a figure of speech,
Kelric answered, directing the reply with more intensity than when his thoughts were for himself only. He touched the valve in his survival suit where the prong on his pilot’s seat plugged into his spine. It connected the cyberware built into the plane with the network of fibers implanted in his body. The system created a direct link from his brain to the Glint’s onboard systems. His motion was reflexive, a reminder that he was linked to a computer and not a person. He forgot sometimes. The Glint’s efforts to learn idioms made it seem self-conscious, like a human being, someone new to a language.

Tyron’s voice interrupted his reverie. “Captain Valdoria, I can’t access mod four of your computer.”

“Checking,” Kelric said. To the Glint, he thought,
Run a diagnostic on your fourth mod.
It was a vital mod, one that controlled the extra shielding against heat, ultraviolet radiation, and cosmic rays that the craft needed to survive in orbit. Although this wasn’t the first plane Kelric had flown with orbital capability, it far surpassed the others. Today, however, his tests concerned only its performance in a planetary atmosphere.

Lights suddenly blazed across his controls, glowing like holiday decorations.
Altimeter error,
the Glint thought.
Environment control error.

Tyrson’s voice snapped out of the audiocom. “Glint One Eight, your chase planes have lost contact with your—”

As Tyrson’s voice cut off, the Glint added,
Audiocom failure.

Slow down,
Kelric told the plane. The rockets fired, but the plane didn’t turn, so it sped up instead.

Cockpit pressure dropping,
the Glint thought.
I’ve sealed your survival suit.

What the hell?
Glint, slow us down.

Neither the thrusters nor the attitude jets are responding,
it answered.

Reboot their control mod.

Reboot successful,
Then:
Captain Valdoria, we’re approaching escape velocity.

Kelric stared at the console. To escape the planet’s gravitational pull, he had to go over eleven kilometers a second, far faster than he had prepared for on this flight. This was nuts. He couldn’t go into space.

A thought stirred in the recesses of his mind:
Why not? You have nothing to lose. Nothing worth keeping.

The Glint’s thought cut through his own:
Do you want to try slowing down again?

Kelric sat motionless, watching his holomaps. They all showed images of the world below him as it receded in the sable backdrop of space.

If we don’t slow down within eight seconds,
the Glint thought,
we won’t have enough fuel to return to base. In fourteen seconds we won’t be able to reach any emergency landing site.

Kelric’s private thoughts whispered like a strain of discordant music playing under the computer’s voice:
You can drift in space forever. With the stars as your lovers, you’ll never be alone.

Escape velocity achieved,
the Glint thought.
We are leaving the planet.

With a mental heave, Kelric snapped himself back to reality.
Glint, return to base!

At first nothing happened. Then the thrusters rumbled in their bay and the rockets fired, flattening him in his seat.

Re-entry initiated,
the Glint thought.

Kelric exhaled.
Do we have enough fuel to get back?

Yes.

So I’m going to live after all.
Kelric wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or to curse.

“We weren’t able to analyze much of your cyber log,” General Schuldman said. He was seated behind the darkwood desk in his office, a huge room as spare and as strong as the grey-haired man who used it. “Most of the log was garbled. Do you have any comments to add to our quick-look report?”

Kelric was sitting in front of the desk, uncomfortable in a leather-bound chair. Was Schuldman asking for more details about his hesitation during the flight? Kelric had none; he wasn’t certain himself what had happened in that moment when he had let the plane leave the planet. However, that hadn’t caused the system failures.

“There’s a flaw in the Glint’s computer, sir,” he said. “I think it’s the neural-hardware interface.”

Schuldman nodded. “Apparently the computer tried to break the lock that keeps it out of your private thoughts. When your mind blocked it, the system froze up.”

His private thoughts. Kelric had enough trouble himself dealing with those; it was no wonder it had confused a computer. “Can the problem be fixed?”

“Our techs repaired the damage,” the general said. “Jessa Zaubern checked their work herself. It shouldn’t try to break your lock again.” He considered Kelric. “Engineering also ran simulations using the higher velocity data you obtained. Their results suggest the Glint may indeed be able to withstand the huge accelerations Dr. Zaubern claimed in her first reports.”

So Jessa had been right. It didn’t surprise Kelric; she had one hell of a good mind. “Sir, the ship may be able to withstand those accelerations, but the engines can’t achieve them.”

Schuldman regarded him steadily. “That’s why we’re putting an inversion engine in it.”

What the hell? They wanted to put a
starship
engine in a plane? What a thought.

Schuldman was watching him with a scrutiny that made Kelric wonder if the general questioned his judgment in letting the Glint leave the planet. Probably not. Schuldman had specifically directed him to test the limits of the craft’s abilities. As for Kelric’s private thoughts during those moments, they were just that. Private.

In any case, putting a starship engine in a plane added a new dimension to the project. Intrigued, Kelric said, “Even data from my last flight can only give us a rough idea of what will happen at higher velocities. I wasn’t going fast enough to test the parameters that would affect a starship.”

Schuldman considered him. “That’s why I’m looking for a volunteer to test the modified aircraft.”

Kelric knew the general’s ability to get fast results made him one of the most valued officers in the Space Test Wing. The rumor mill also claimed Schuldman had earned his reputation by pushing his planes—and their pilots—to the limit.

What a ride it would be, though! The speed, the challenge, rushing on the edge—the idea exhilarated Kelric. Then he thought of the risks and sobered up. Neither the Glint nor any other plane he knew was ready to fly with a starship drive.

Unbidden, a thought crept out of the shadows in his mind:
Go ahead. Do it. You have nothing to lose.

Kelric spoke. “I’d like to volunteer, sir.”

Schuldman nodded with approval. “Very well, Captain. The flight will be in three days.”

2

Arroyo Dawn

The only light in the sunken living room came from the clock on a table, its violet glow coaxing gleams from the glassy furniture and paneling. Moonlight poured through the big window in the north wall. Outside, the city of Arosa lay under the desert sky, its scattered lights glittering like moonlight trapped in a diamond. It was the only town within a day’s hovercar drive of Arosa Space Force Base, an installation isolated so far out in the desert that nothing but an occasional corkscrew cricket lived near enough to see the aircraft tests.

Kelric sat in his dark glossy penthouse, sprawled on the couch, holding a glass of desert honey. He had no idea where the whisky got the name honey. It tasted like cleaning fluid. He grimaced and poured his drink back in the bottle, then clunked the tumbler down on the glass table.

“So,” he muttered. “You like sitting here in the dark or what?”

“That’s a good question,” a woman said.

Kelric jumped to his feet so fast he knocked over his glass. The lights in the room came on, blinding him. As his vision cleared he saw a statuesque woman by the door, a golden figure with an angel’s face and masses of radiant curls that floated around her face and spilled down her back.

“For flaming sake, Mother,” he growled. “What are you doing here?”

She gave him a wry smile. “I’m glad to see you too.”

“You surprised me.” She rarely showed up without letting him know first. “How did you get in?”

“You left the door unlocked.” She walked over to him, her gold hair tousled around her shoulders. “I thought something was wrong. Then I heard you talking to yourself.”

“I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

Her smile smoothed away the worried furrow that had creased her forehead. “I decided to come after I saw you on the news tonight.”

Kelric reddened. He was trying to forget that broadcast. News of his last flight had leaked to the press and a local reporter had called the base to ask if she could interview him. Schuldman gave the go-ahead, unaware that Kelric avoided public speaking like he avoided jumping into hot tar pits. The project information officer had told him to satisfy the press with a good story. Apparently it helped garner public support for the base. So Kelric had tried to prepare for the interview. But when he had walked into the broadcast studio with its bright lights and buzzing crews, it had rattled him so much, he couldn’t do much more than mumble yes and no to the reporter’s questions.

“That was quite a story,” his mother said. “How did they put it? ‘The handsome hero of Space Command.’”

“I looked like an idiot.”

“Actually, I thought you fit the role of hero well.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “You would think I was heroic if I fell on my face in the mud.”