What A Way To Come To California
#1 of The Odyssey of STS-217
Chapter 1 of The Odyssey of STS-217, wherein our intrepid astronauts find themselves through the looking glass.
This is the first part of a collaboration between myself and Sam Gwosdz. On their way back home after a successful two week mission, the crew of Space Shuttle Horizon encounter something unexpected.
Chapter 1: "What A Way To Come To California" by Golden Fox and Sam Gwosdz
May 9th, 2017
Sandra Harris took a deep breath and glanced out of the windows of the cockpit. The Atlantic Ocean was bright and blue nearly 400 miles below, and the East Coast was just receding out of view as she stared at it. She noticed Tropical Storm Arlene still over the coast of Florida. It was weakening fast, but was still making things difficult for them, even in space. After a moment, she heard someone at the ladder. She turned and saw a male raccoon, dressed in a polo shirt floating up.
"Heya, kiddo. Enjoyin' the view?"
She turned away from him to look out of the windows again. "Yeah, sorry, Roger. Trying to soak it in a bit before we head home."
Commander Mason nodded and floated up, moving over to the rear windows behind her. The large cargo bay of Space Shuttle_Horizon_ lay open to space, and the equipment they'd used for the past two weeks to upgrade the Hubble Telescope was still shining in the sun. He grinned and turned back to her. "Might wanna finish breakfast before it flies up your nose, though."
She quickly looked down at her spoon, which was floating above a small package of rehydrated scrambled eggs. "Oh, son of a--" She reached out and grabbed it with a blush. The raccoon chuckled.
"That's nothing. Should have seen a guy I flew with on my first flight. Guy was a Navy vet and EVERY time, he let the thing float away. Then we land at Kennedy and the man keeps dropping his spoon after finally getting the hang of it." He briefly glanced over at the cockpit instruments and nodded in approval at the readings.
From below, someone laughed and a female voice shouted what Sandra had to assume was a vivid curse in Japanese. She pointed to the hole in the floor leading to the middeck of the orbiter with her spoon. "Is Yuma killing anybody down there yet?"
The raccoon snickered. "Nah, but Ricky keeps messing with her. Lemme go put my commander hat back on and make sure nobody gets murdered down there. Might wanna finish up, though. We've got a schedule to keep."
Sandra nodded and took another bite of eggs before reaching for a silver pouch with a valved straw, a barcoded sticker on it reading_KONA COFFEE W/ MILK. _"Gotcha. Nearly done. What's the time, anyway?"
Roger glanced at his watch. "About 6:45 in the morning. Like I said, clock's runnin'."
Sandra nodded and took another sip of coffee. "Any word on the weather?"
Roger paused a moment. "Well, control said it was still looking good. A little windy, but below the limit. Still go for Edwards." Another shout, this time in Hebrew, rang out from the middeck and the raccoon stuck his head through the hole in the floor of the cockpit."You people calm the hell down, or so help me, I will turn the car around and you'll all be grounded!"
Sandra snickered at him. After a moment, she heard a female voice ring out as well in a mocking canine whine.
"Honey! The kids are fighting again!" The ringtail laughed and drifted back down as Sandra shook her head. It had been like this since they'd gotten into quarantine at the Kennedy Space Center, and it had been a miracle they had made it this far without one of them assaulting (or, failing that, horribly pranking) the others. But, the joking aside, they'd done their jobs perfectly and NASA had grudgingly, eventually, admitted that the team of International Space Agency astronauts had done the repairs and upgrades to their satisfaction. The Hubble Telescope would have new eyes and a new brain, and would be certified for at least another five years of life. She glanced at the window again, where Africa was finally coming into view.
And I helped fix the damned thing, she thought. A 26-year old jackal from Louisiana, working on a two billion dollar telescope. She shook her head at the thought and sighed, taking a final bite of her eggs. Commander Mason had been right. They were on the clock to land in California, and she didn't want to be the one to hold them up. After taking another sip of her coffee, she moved towards the stairs to the middeck where the others were to get ready to come home. As she floated in, she was immediately greeted by the sight of a leopard sitting upside-down on the ceiling of the middeck with a grin the size of the Moon and a red panda with a frown of equal proportions. Near them, Roger floated, grinning and sipping a pouch of tea, while next to him a tall female maned wolf appeared to be stifling a snicker between bites of what looked like oatmeal.
"Oh, for God's sake, Ricky, where did you_put_ them?" the red panda growled at the feline.
"My dear_madame!_ You dare to sully my reputation with such vile accusations?" The leopard put on a look of feigned shock, clutching his chest a bit. If anything, the panda's frown deepened.
"Oh, whatever,Shakespeare," She turned and spotted Sandra floating nearby. "Sandra, back me up here!"
Sandra sighed and pulled herself into the room, moving to one of the lockers on the wall to pull out a GoPro camera. "Please tell me the IMAX cameras we dragged up here for this are off. Not that, you know, this isn't_gripping_ film, Mr. Drama." She winked at the leopard, who coughed.
Behind him, a fennec in a red polo laughed softly and nudged the shoulder of a Mexican wolf woman. In a thick Israeli accent, he chuckled "I've got five bucks she throws him into the airlock."
The lupine smirked and nodded. "Oh, I want in on this, Ehud."
The panda glared at them both and looked to be on the verge of shouting at them before the raccoon cleared his throat. "Alright, alright. Let's be adults here. Clock's tickin' and we're using up our consumables, folks. Yuma, what'd he take?"
The wah hooked a thumb at the feline again. "My damned_socks,_ the perverted, spotted--"
"Oh, for_God's_ sake Yuma, it was a joke!" the leopard said in exasperation, throwing his hands in the air and twisting so he was floating the same way up as the others.
The raccoon stared at them a moment. "Jesus, how did you people pass the psychology review for this? Alright, Ricky, cough 'em up." The leopard sighed, reached behind him into a locker marked_PLT DAY 3 MEALS_ and pulled a pair of wool socks from it, tossing them at the red panda. "Alright, now that that's out of the way," Roger sighed, "Let's get ready to land this bird, huh? Alright, middeck gang... Ehud, Sonya, and Ricky." The fennec, Mexican wolf and leopard perked their ears in response. "Let's get squared up down here and get your suits on. Yuma? You good to not murder the kitty-cat and help us out upstairs?"
Yuma glared at Ricky for a moment as she slipped her socks on and nodded. "For now, yeah."
Roger covered his eyes and sighed. "Good enough. Sandra, you've got video on the landing, right?"
Sandra nodded and held up the GoPro. "Yep. Just checking the battery."
Roger smiled and turned to the final person in the room. "Great. Alrighty Sarah, let's go get this show on the road."
The tall canid next to him grinned and nodded, balling the empty oatmeal package up and moving to push it into a trash bag. "You got it, Rocket." She smiled and in a fluid move, she pushed off the wall and flew past the others before twisting to fly into the cockpit.
Roger turned to the others and smiled. "Alright, folks. Time to hit the ground again. By tonight, we're all gonna be eating In-N-Out burgers and having milkshakes before flying home."
Sandra grinned. "To hell with_that,_ boss, I'm having a shower first."
Roger and the others snickered. "Right. Anyway, get ready to start fluids and salt in a bit and get suited up, folks. Time to head back home."
* * * * * * *
Colmaton, CA
"JASON! Get the hell up! It's 8:15!" snapped a black-haired tribal wolfess dressed in a wrinkled yellow t-shirt and white shorts, as she shook the much taller occupant of their apartment bed. Jenna Ronfauni had been sharing this apartment with Jason Mills for several years now, so she should have been used to this. But she also knew he'd always sleep in on days where they weren't really required on assignments at the Bureau of Superheroes. The Florida Panther, with scraggy brown hair, gazed back over at Strikira with his clearly blind eyes.
"Awww, Jenny, I must have pressed the snooze button in my giant panther brain. Or the alarm clock. Almost as if I can't see what's on it. Weird, huh?"
"Never mind! Just get up, we've got an early call in!"
The panther, dressed red shorts and a white shirt, quickly saluted. "Yes, ma'am! Shall I make my way to the shower or do I need to direct you to it?"
Jenna grinned. "Get moving, you bloody ninny."
The two, otherwise known as the heroine Strikira and the hero Slipstream, lived in the city of Colmaton, California, a large metropolis located between Oxnard and Los Angeles.
Strikira, whose real name was Jenna Ronfauni, hailed from Sydney, Australia. A master of martial arts and chi energy, she first started out as a superhero by taking revenge on a gang that had destroyed her family's home and small business. She tearfully admitted this to her longtime dojo teacher, an akita named Shichiro Kazuo. He reminded her of fighting for true justice and taught her the arts of chi mastery. In time, she joined the Bureau and fellow heroine Legal Beagle were transferred to the Colmaton base in the United States and she was granted citizenship by the government.
The Australian began to make a true name for herself in Colmaton. Often, her intuition and tactical skills solved many problems including some where her own superiors doubted or outright tried to stop her. She was also a key member of the anti-Gym Brats task force division, which was assigned to take on a gang of super powered athletes and college students. But probably the biggest miracle she ever performed was somehow tolerating and loving the cougar known as Slipstream.
Slipstream, otherwise known as Jason Mills, was a native Floridian and blind from birth due to an illness his mother contracted. He lived a relatively normal life until he was 16 years old; upon the announcement that his mother was expecting a baby, his wind powers manifested themselves in his excitement and blew the door to the room off its hinges. Experimenting in secret, Jason learned to fly and use the wind to make out the shapes of everything and everyone around him.
He decided this would be his calling and moved to Atlanta, applying for the Bureau and donning his hero moniker. He was serious about his work, at first, also getting to know well a few of of his fellow heroines, a deer doe named Kinetrix, and later younger ones: a vixen named Brier Fox, a grizzly named Brier Bear, and fellow feline Carolina Cougar.
A mission in Savannah, Georgia changed him deeply, though: during an ill-fated illegal weapons cache bust with Kinetrix and Carolina, the doe was shot on the side of her head by a stray bullet that managed to find its way through her weakened force field defense. She wasn't hurt by the bullet, but the force of the backlash knocked her out. This sent Slipstream into a rage and he created a virtual vacuum in the facility, focusing on the two gang members and sucking the air out of their throats. The next thing he felt was sharp claws digging into his ankle. When he looked down and saw the pleading face of Carolina struggling to breathe, he immediately stopped the attack, the horror of what he just did hitting him.
From that day forward, his demeanor changed to the point where he quickly gained a reputation as the blindfolded prankster of the Bureau. He was transferred to Colmaton soon after that, where he continued his happy-go-lucky ways.
The two were in a sense employed by the United Nations Bureau of Superheroes. The organization was established in 2000 when world governments insisted those people with superpowers be monitored and held accountable for their actions should something go wrong. For a time, this was a contentious issue within the super community. As there were some that agreed and registered, others, like the United States' most popular heroine Lady Liberty, held out and refused to register. The issue came to a head during a major crisis with a villain named Major Panzer. And in 2008, a ceasefire of sorts known as the Colmaton Truce was reached. This allowed unregistered heroes to operate as long as no heinous crimes were committed.
Strikira and Slipstream were both registered heroes, but had many friends and comrades in the unregistered community. In fact, Strikira worked with several other heroines in an alliance they dubbed the Night Rangers.
But their registered comrades mattered now, as the two quickly got dressed in their uniforms they kept at home. Slipstream, dressed in his usual red and yellow shirt, brown pants and boots, finished tying a long flowing red headband over his eyes. How he was able to do this so effortlessly was due to his aerokinetic powers. With his control over wind and the air, he had a sort of radar sense where he could make out the shapes of everything around him. This allowed him to live more normally when he discovered and harnessed the power.
Strikira dashed out of the bathroom, dressed in her usual yellow and black outfit, with a short-cut top with a ventilation window for her chest and long pants and boots. Her tonfas rattled at her sides and her yellow scarf whipped in the air as she raced for the door. "Come on!"
"Okay okay, sheesh! Geez, you act like Lady Hatcher's chasing you," Slipstream giggled as he followed her and shut the door to the apartment. Plopping the key in his utility belt, he followed Strikira outside and then scooped her up in his arms and took off into the air, using his wind powers to levitate.
"So what's the big emergency that we got called in for?" he asked. He could almost completely sense Strikira's grin.
"Weekly inspection and basic training."
The Florida Panther snorted. "I should've stayed in bed."
"Yes, but you would have missed a lovely morning. Look, not a cloud in the sky."
Slipstream stared at her and grinned. "Now you're using my blind jokes? You took the silly pills this morning."
Strikira giggled and kissed him on the nose. "Onward and upward to the Bureau, my steed!"
Slipstream jokingly whinnied and sped through the air to Strikira's delight. "Look out, BOSuperstars, here comes Slipstream!"
* * * * * * *
Sandra winced and tried to stretch as best she could in the orange pressure suit. The burn from the Orbital Maneuvering System had gone off flawlessly and they were flying through the thin air of the upper atmosphere over the Pacific. The windows ahead of her, beyond the two orange suited and helmeted figures, were starting to slowly fill with a dim glow. The rest of the cockpit was pitch black to help them see the instruments. She raised her left arm, where a small mirror was strapped, and looked at the top windows of the cockpit. Behind them, the Orbiter's tail was glowing white hot as the superheated air flowed around it. It looked like it was being placed in a blast furnace, with the surface brightening every few moments as the air of the upper atmosphere hit it. "Okay,that's really cool."
Roger chuckled softly from the left seat. "You don't wanna be outside right now. Okay, Mach 25. Sandra and Ricky've got their patches now. Gonna be waking up folks on the coast in a few minutes." The raccoon looked at the instrument panel quickly. "There we go. Starting to feel some gravity again. There's 0.1 Gs."
Sandra smiled at that, moving the GoPro to glance out of the rear windows again. She noticed the checklist Velcroed in front of her on the back of Sarah's seat starting to sag a bit as gravity began to reassert itself. She'd finally earned the right to wear a special patch only given to astronauts who'd flown on the Space Shuttle. On the voice loop, there was a soft whoop of joy from Ricky, followed by chuckles.
"No offense, Roger, but this is nothing," she said. That got a longer laugh from the others. Harris had been the only one among them to take a ride in an Orion capsule as a start to her career as an astronaut, and the return from her lunar flight back to the dry lakebed of Edwards Air Force Base had been a fiery, much more intense affair compared to the Shuttle's entry.
"Yeah, no kiddin'. Okay, starting the roll now. I'm starting to feel my seat again." Roger's arm reached out to tap a few controls on the digital displays of the Orbiter's cockpit. In front of Sandra, Sarah Engels, the pilot, moved to type something into a keyboard mounted in between them, the American flag on her left arm starting to glow a bit as the windows brightened. The plasma outside of the windows began to get brighter and brighter as_Horizon_ began to fly at more than 20 times the speed of sound through the thin air of the upper atmosphere. It began a long, slow S-curve to extend its glide and manage the heat loads on the Shuttle's thermal tiles. Behind her, in the mirror, the tail continued to glow brightly. "Okay, folks, things are gonna pick up in a bit here, so we're gonna cut the chit-chat. If you need to, tighten up on the G-suits a bit." The raccoon blew into his microphone and continued to let the computers of the ship fly them through the upper atmosphere.
"Horizon, Magnolia, we show you on energy and on course." Mission control's voice, sounding as if it was coming through a dodgy drive-through speaker, was loud and clear in their ears.
"Magnolia, we copy." Roger's grin was almost audible on the voice loop. Outside, the plasma glow was as intense as ever, and Sandra prayed silently that the tiles that covered the orbiter were free of damage. "It's like a blast furnace out there," Roger muttered again. "Okay, coming through two hundred thousand feet. Starting to see the sunshine and the plasma's getting lighter. Coming up on Mach 12 steps and waiting for their call."
For the next few moments of the entry, Sandra continued to pan the camera around the cockpit. As the plasma started to dim, she heard a soft crackle in her headset. Her ears, confined in the helmet, couldn't perk, but she blinked as it happened again and continued for a second.
"Well, sounds like they're trying to say some--" Roger stopped abruptly. As the jackal turned her head to look forward at the windows, she registered a brief flicker of the instruments and a slight shimmy going through the vehicle. "What the hell was that?"
Sarah looked at her displays. "What the hell? No warning, master caution is off. No control surface split, APUs and hydraulics are fine. I've got nothing on my end."
Sandra turned to her right, where a set of displays and lights sat in a cluster on an instrument panel behind the pilot. The entire display was either darkened or showing the normal signals. "Nothing on my end. AC busses look okay. Cabin pressure's good. Thought I just saw the DP/DT warning for a second, but I've got nothing here, either." As comforting as it was to know that the cabin pressure and controls for the Shuttle were fine, it was still concerning to not have any indication of what had happened.
"What in the--" Roger took a deep breath and pressed the transmit button to talk to mission control. "Magnolia,Horizon. We just had a little shimmy up here and a possible transient on our electrical systems. You guys see anything?"
There was no reply. Sandra felt her ears try, desperately, to move inside of the helmet.
"...Magnolia,Horizon, do you copy?"
There was no response again. "Magnolia,Horizon, in the blind, how copy, over?" Roger's voice began to get slightly edgy as Sandra glanced at the checklist strapped to her leg. It was open to the normal entry procedures, but she eyed the word CONTINGENCY on a tab with a slight sinking feeling. In her head, the voice of NASA mission control from 14 years earlier, endlessly asking if Columbia could hear them, tried to cement itself in her imagination and she tried desperately to get it out of her mind. Roger growled a bit and sighed. "Okay, things are gonna be interesting, then. Switch to the no-comms sections."
Sandra gulped and put the GoPro back into its mount behind her. She flipped her checklist to another page where a backup list of entry procedures was laid out for this kind of contingency. "Need the alternate comm frequencies, Roger?"
The raccoon shook his head slightly as the sun began to lift above the horizon, the cockpit slowly beginning to lighten up as the Shuttle descended through the sky towards California. "Not yet. We're almost over the coast. They'll have us on radar and UHF soon. If nothing else, they'll know we didn't burn up and they'll be able to track us coming in. Alright, Sarah, let's keep going... Sun's gonna be in your eyes, so just heads up on that."
"Great, great." The maned wolf sighed directly into her helmet microphone and reached to type something into the keyboard on the center console. The Shuttle began to bank into another large S-shaped curve, this time in the opposite direction of the first. "Okay, another roll reversal. We're just gonna have to guess, if they don't--" Sarah stopped instantly and looked out of the windows. "Roger? That's the coast, right?"
The raccoon to the left of her blinked and leaned forward. "Looks like it, why?"
Sarah stayed silent for a few seconds before looking at the computer displays in front of her. "We're still on course?"
Sandra felt the fur and hair on her neck standing up and next to her, the red panda shifted in her seat. Roger turned to look at his pilot. "Should be, why?"
Sarah frowned. "Made this approach before. That doesn't look like I remember."
The jackal cleared her throat and gulped. "You're kidding, right?"
Nobody answered that question and Roger shifted a bit in his seat as well. "Okay. The weirdness meter keeps going up. Well. Coming down to Mach 6. Can't do much either way. Gonna get our flight controls back in a little bit, so get ready. We're about to wake up some late sleepers in a bit."
Sandra took a deep breath as she glanced at the checklist on her leg. The Shuttle would be breaking the sound barrier all the way down until they were about to turn to land at Edwards, and it never failed to scare the daylights out of unsuspecting people. "Here's hoping they've had their coffee already, at any rate."
Slipstream visibly cringed a bit, and Strikira noticed just as they landed near the clandestine entrance to the Colmaton Bureau complexes.
"What's wrong, mate?"
"Felt something really weird, something massive... and it wasn't you."
"Har-har, what is that, a--"
She was cut off by an incredibly loud pair of closely spaced booms coming from somewhere overhead, as if someone had set off the world's largest firecrackers within half a second of each other. The sonic booms echoed throughout the city, causing more than a few people to look around in confusion.
"EEEEP!"
The next thing Slip knew, Strikira was in his arms and holding onto his neck with a death grip.
"Bloody freaking hell, what WAS that?!" she shouted.
Slipstream shook his head. "I don't know, but if you stop choking me, maybe I can--"
The panther's communicator began to beep continuously and he reached down with a free hand to grab it.
"Y'ello!"
"Slipstream! Good, you're near the base. Dyno Donkey, Doe Dynamo, and I will meet you out front. A space shuttle just mysteriously appeared right in the sky!" Medic Mouse said from the comm radio.
"Ah, so that wasn't gas I was feeling earlier."
"Just get moving!"
Soon, the tall veteran donkey, powerful doe and diminutive mouse joined Slipstream in flying to the scene where the mysterious Space Shuttle was coming.
The black-haired mouse, dressed in a 1940s nurse styled uniform, looked over at Slipstream and tossed him a pair of headphones as and Doe Dynamo and Dyno-Donkey were putting on their own pairs.
"It's going to be very loud up there, Slipstream," she said.
"Oh, like when Ranger screams at me."
Medic half-smiled. "Just put them on, we'll give each other hand signals."
He put them on and waved. "Can do, let's go!"
The four then flew off to the shuttle, knowing that they were to soon be joined by two F-22 planes.
* * * * * * *
"Okay, HUDs are up. Coming up on Mach 2, you've got air data. Checklist items?"
Sandra glanced down at her list as the two pilots began to read off the checklist of items for the final approach. Next to her, Yuma flipped to the next page and looked out of the windows as they passed through 65,000 feet. The Shuttle was getting closer to its final approach and was passing over Edwards Air Force Base as they spoke.
Sarah tapped a few buttons and looked over at the raccoon next to her. "Okay, Mach 1.3... starting to feel like an airplane now. Roger, heads up, the rocky road's coming up in a second."
"Gotcha. Thanks, Sarah." Sandra took a deep breath. The_'rocky road'_ was a rough part of the approach as the Shuttle dropped below the speed of sound and she'd been prepared for it. The vehicle shook slightly as the 'Mach rumble' rattled it. Roger tapped a few more buttons and took a deep breath. "Okay, just to review some of the basics here, gang, we'll arm the gear at 2,000 feet and put it down at 300. We'll put the chute out at 185 knots. I'm not sure why the hell they haven't called us yet, so I'm just going to ballpark this and guess the wind's the same."
"Copy that. Sky's clear as a bell, at least," the maned wolf said.
"Yeah, it--" Whatever Yuma was going to say was interrupted as an F-22 Raptor flew ahead of them as they passed through 45,000 feet with all the glide characteristics of a brick with wings. "What the_fuck_ was that?!"
A second F-22 shot past them as Roger blinked, and then started the right hand turn. "Son of a--alright, starting the turn."
Sarah shook her head and glanced at the controls again. "Okay, on energy at the HAC. Coming up on the 180 and there's the bumping I was worried about. Just like the STA, you're perfect so far."
As the pilots began to turn to line up with the runway, Sandra and Yuma had front row seats to a strange show. A set of figures, dressed in what looked like costumes, were flying next to them as they turned. She stared a second or two at the feline outside of the left window, who looked like he was wearing a blindfold. The pilots, apparently, were too busy actively trying to land to spot them. The jackal's jaw flapped a second before she managed to say anything. "Yuma. Tell me you see that, please?"
Yuma stared at them a moment and then glanced the other way. "I was about to ask you that."
The voice loop crackled and a female voice filled their ears. "Hey, what the hell's going on up there, folks?"
Sandra quickly shook her head. "Sonya, you're not gonna believe this-"
Roger growled. "Kinda busy, people."
Sarah looked up for a moment, then looked instantly at her heads-up display, ignoring either side of the cockpit. "Okay, Roger. On energy, you're slightly low at the 90."
"Okay. Coming up on 16,000. Waiting on MLS." The raccoon paused and kept his hands firmly on the control stick. "Waiting on the MLS, still..."
Sandra paused a second. The Microwave Landing System helped to guide them down to the runway. It allowed for the incredibly steep approach used by the Space Shuttle, and was always turned on when they landed. Apparently, this time it wasn't. Roger wasn't thrilled and his voice took on a slightly more annoyed edge. "Okay,fine, no MLS. GPS is still good."
Sarah looked up. "Okay, I have the run-... what the_hell?"_
The raccoon looked up as well. The vast expanse of Rogers Dry Lake was laid out under them and beyond it, Runway 22L and the rest of Edwards Air Force Base were right where they were supposed to be. On either side of the runway though, yellow airport fire trucks were stationed, their lights flashing, and armed airmen could be seen racing to secure the taxiways onto the runway. Several humvees also appeared to be tearing across the tarmac, leaving trails of dust behind. The line of recovery vehicles that usually met the Shuttle was nowhere in sight. Distantly, in Sandra's mind, Rod Serling's voice drifted up like something out of a dream."You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas..." Her breath quickened.
Sarah growled and managed to recover her wits about her. "On final. Getting rid of the overlay on my end."
That served to snap Roger out of it as well and he shook his head. "Okay, decluttered." He pressed a button to get rid of the unecessary information on his head-up display and gently pulled back on the stick. "In the pre-flare passing 2,000. Gear?"
"Gear's in transition. You're right on the money, Rocket." Sarah looked up and continued to call out the speed. Sandra noted dimly, that she had, for the first time since the entire affair began, used Commander Mason's nickname.Force of habit, she guessed. The vehicle's nose rose up and she glanced to one side, getting a brief look at the groups of firefighters and troops lining up at the entrance to the runway, which flashed past as they crossed the threshold. Below her, the gear locked into place with a solid thunk.
Sarah had managed to recover her composure enough to call the height and speed out without prompting. "Okay, Rocket. 30 feet, 230. 20 feet...220. 15, keep it off. Keep it off..." The vehicle bumped slightly and shook. "Main gear touchdown! Chute's on the way." The lupine quickly pressed a button, and the large red, white and blue parachute unfurled from the tail of the Orbiter.
"De-rotating." Roger pushed the stick forward gently and the nose wheels of the orbiter hit the runway with another thump, the four figures in the cockpit shaking for a moment.
"Okay, you're at 40 knots now, ease up on the brakes a bit..." As Sarah talked and Roger finished the rollout, another fire truck entered the far end of the runway and began driving towards them.
"Okay... " The vehicle finally rolled to a halt and Roger tapped the button on his stick again. "Magnolia,Horizon, in the blind. Wheels stop." He slumped back in the seat a moment and sighed. "Is it my imagination, or is the welcoming committee pissed at us?"
Sandra stared out of the window beyond the pilots. The figures in costume landed nearby, where the fire truck turned to block the runway. One of them held up a sign with something it took her a second to make out. It was the blindfolded panther, holding up a sign with the words "DO YOU HAVE ANY GREY POUPON?" in blocky letters. He was quickly elbowed by the significantly shorter mouse.
"Guys? What in the hell happened to us, and why do I think we ain't anywhere near Kansas anymore...?"
Roger, Sarah and Yuma all looked up and stared at the figures on the runway. "I dunno," the raccoon finally said, as he flipped the checklist to the_POST-LANDING_ section. "But I've got the distinct feeling we weren't expected."
Yuma gulped as she noticed a few uniformed personnel approach as well. "... shit."
Roger spotted the figures and turned to Sandra as best he could. "Hey, kiddo? Do you have the tower frequency for Edwards handy?"
Sandra blinked and started flipping through her checklist rapidly. "Sure, what's up?"
"Gotta warn them not to touch us. We're still at a couple of hundred degrees thanks to our little trip through the atmosphere." He stopped and looked at the costumed figures again. "Plus, let's see if we can't start getting some answers about this cluster, hm?"
* * * * * * *
It took a few hours to properly explain, and even that had been a stretch. The ground crews at the base had finally, blessedly, arranged for a compatible set of stairs to be brought over to the Shuttle, and the crew began to disembark, one after the other, all in their orange ACES pressure suits.
The leader of the small group of Air Force personnel, a husky, went up to Roger, who was in the lead in front of the other astronauts. "Welcome back to Earth, sir. We just need you to come with us for the debriefing. All of you."
Roger stared at the other figure for a moment. "Look, fellas, what the hell's going on here? Someone miss the memo about us coming in here instead of into KSC today?" The suited raccoon crossed his arms and frowned at the other man.
"Sir, I'm just doing my job. Our superiors need to ask you a few questions." He was still being vague, of course, but looked increasingly uncomfortable as the raccoon glared at him.
Roger turned to look at the rest of the crew. Sarah, who was the tallest of them, frowned a bit and muttered under her breath. Sandra continued to whistle the theme to_The Twilight Zone_ softly as the raccoon turned back to the younger officer in front of him. "Lead the way, then, son. We've got a hell of a lot of questions for them, too."
The soldiers led them towards the nearest large hangar, and a couple of soldiers were stationed nearby. The heroes in costumes also followed them as well, seemingly monitoring the situation.
Sandra glanced over at the leopard who was walking next to her. Ricky was rubbing his head a bit. "This is ridiculous," he muttered softly. "We should have been in the Crew Transport Vehicle and out of these suits two hours ago."
The jackal nodded and took a deep breath. "I hear you. Jesus, mom was supposed to be here to meet me. What the hell's going on here?"
Behind them, the Mexican wolf woman leaned forward and sighed. "Hope they don't ask for ID. They give us all that when we land. Do any of you see the welcoming committee?"
Sandra snorted. "Yeah, I do. They're pointing M4s and M16s at us."
The group were led to a large room and asked to sit in several chairs. Following them was an older fox with colonel's eagles on his uniform and "Masterson" sewed onto his nametag.
"Welcome back to Earth, ladies and gentlemen. One question is on my mind though, as I looked at your shuttle earlier..." He stared randomly at Sandra. "Where are you really from?"
Sandra glared at the colonel for a few moments as Roger chewed the answer over a bit. "I'm from Ohio." He pointed to the maned wolf. "She's from 'Frisco."
Sandra snickered softly and gave the perfect smug grin. "Louisiana."
Yuma paused and then smiled a little herself. "Tokyo. You know. In Japan."
"Yes, I know that," Colonel Masterson said with a barely suppressed growl. "I just almost thought you were from Timbuktu. Because I took one look at that shuttle of yours, and I have never heard of the IS-fucking-A."
The seven figures in orange suits sat in mute silence at that, the smiles that had been creeping onto their muzzles slowly vanishing. "International Space Agency," Roger said, coldly. "Based out of Geneva, main US control center's in Louisiana? Look, we just spent two weeks in_space,"_ at that, Roger gestured pointedly to the vehicle, which was still sitting on the runway. The crowds had finally dropped a considerable distance back after the raccoon had snarled to the tower that they still had toxic propellants aboard. He pointed to the mission patch stuck onto his suit with Velcro, where a small outline of the Hubble Space Telescope flying over the Earth sat in the center of a black octagon. "Upgrading the Hubble Telescope on behalf of NASA, since, you know, they retired their birds in 2011 and we didn't."
Masterson just looked at them, his expression completely dumbfounded. "What in the hell are you talking about, Commander? All Space Shuttles have been retired since 2011 and none have been launched at all!"
There was an intense, palpable silence. The raccoon's eyes narrowed and he once again pointed to the vehicle on the runway, sitting in the sunshine. "Explain_that,_ then. You tell me how a $2 billion Space Shuttle launched from Florida two weeks ago and then in the middle of reentry, mission control stops talking to us and I have to land to deal with an inquiry instead of giving a press conference about how much ass we kicked up there." Roger's years in the Air Force had apparently left him with a low tolerance for this sort of thing, much less from a man who shared his own rank. Sarah could sense the situation veering to a shouting match and placed a hand on the raccoon's shoulder.
"Look, Colonel Masterson," she said. "He's got a point. We're not making this stuff up. We've got a bunch of IMAX cameras, a bunch of old equipment and two old optical instruments from the telescope in the payload bay, and there's seven people sitting here in these suits. Stands to reason we had to get up into the sky first before we scared the shit out of the people who heard us passing overhead and weren't expecting us to land, right?"
The colonel looked like he was about to blow a gasket. "This is all just one big expensive prank," he mumbled, starting to pace. "No one said anything about this to me for months. It is my goddamn job to know things like this are going to happen, that a freaking Space Shuttle was going to land here at_this_ base where I'm stationed at. But am I laughing? No, I'm not laughing!" he said, his voice raising at the end of his diatribe.
The lone figure in the group with a different flag on his arm cleared his throat and the other six astronauts turned to look at him. Ehud Shalom, wearing the Israeli flag on his left arm, scratched one of his oversized ears a second. "Colonel," the fennec said gently. "You said you've never heard of us, right?"
Masterson looked at him. "No, sir, I haven't."
Ehud nodded in agreement. "And you said no Space Shuttle's flown since 2011, when NASA retired them, right? Are they all in museums?"
"They are."
"Okay," Ehud nodded again. "Then, if this were a prank, we'd have to have stolen one, repainted it, and then launched it. How could that happen with nobody noticing?"
"Fine, it's not a prank," Masterson snarled. "Then what is it?"
Nobody had a good answer and the silence was only broken by Sandra sighing softly. "I'm still trying to get past the people in costumes flying next to us."
The rest of the crew looked at her a second, then turned to the costumed figures in the room.
Roger took a deep breath and slowly covered his eyes with one hand. "God, we've landed in a comic book or something. This gets better by the second."
Masterson gritted his teeth and glared at the astronauts. If anything,that answer only seemed to make him angrier. "Maybe we will take you up on it and examine everything, because I want to get to the bottom of this."
"So do I," said a voice at the door. The group turned to see a very large bear step into the room, dressed like an Army Ranger, complete with armor. The emblem on her cap signified a type of US Special Forces unit. The four supers from earlier also followed her into the room.
"Does this really concern you people, Ranger?" Masterson asked, his eyes narrowing.
The red-haired bruin nodded, her voice commanding and yet with a hint of Georgian accent to it. "Yes, Colonel, it does. I think we can help everyone here with this situation."
The fox threw his hands up and huffed. "By all means, have at it! Far be it from me to question the almighty BOS."
The bear narrowed her eyes at him. "Sir, I served in the Special Forces."
"And a mighty fine job you did, from what I hear. Carry on, and don't hold back any information. The US government needs to know about this as well."
"Noted, sir."
With that, the fox stood back, allowing Ranger to take charge.
Roger, who'd been looking on at the display with a slight degree of personal satisfaction, cleared his throat. "Okay. My turn, then. To borrow his term, there... I've never heard of the BO-expletive-S. Anyone want to explain the costumed heroics to us first, because_that's_ definitely something I've never seen before. Who the hell are you people?"
"I'm one of the heads of the BOS in the United States. The United Nations Bureau of Superheroes." Masterson flicked his hands upward a little bit, obviously wondering why she was going along with this.
There was another moment of slightly awkward silence as the astronauts appeared to be processing this new mystery. It was finally broken by the melanistic jackal pointing very slowly at the costumed heroes. "My God, y'all are serious about this, aren't you?"
Medic Mouse shook her head. "I'm afraid so, ma'am. At base we monitored some unusual activity and realized that your shuttle just appeared right out of thin air."
Dyno Donkey nodded. "Indeed, and there were very strange energy readings going along with it as well. We're still looking into it at the moment. We helped the Air Force escort you folks in for a safe landing.
Doe Dynamo nodded and flicked her hair. "Sorry if we startled you earlier. This all must be so sudden."
"And yeah, glad you look alright and all, but do you really have any Grey Poupon? At least powdered? I could use it for a new hot dog recipe and... Ooof!" The mouse gave Slipstream a firm nudge in the ribs. "Okay, mmph, I'll be quiet. Thought a joke would break the tension."
"Well, we have a couple of packets of the yellow stuff in the mid-"
Roger glared at the leopard. "Wilson, would you shut the hell up about the mustard? Not helping." He turned back to the heroes, composing himself again. "Energy readings, you said?" He turned to the maned wolf. "Hey, Sarah? We were at about... what? Mach 15 when that happened? That shimmy and the electrical glitch we got on the way in?"
Sarah shrugged. "I don't remember offhand. I just saw every light and the screens flicker. Thought I heard some static on the comms, too, but I dunno what happened to us."
Everyone seemed to be quietly processing it, with the exception of Sandra. She was staring at the heroes and pointed at them after a moment. "You guys said you're with the United Nations, right?"
"Yes, ma'am," Medic Mouse replied.
The jackal smiled broadly. "The rescue agreement." The six other astronauts looked at her a minute and she frowned at them. "Look, I_did_ actually learn some crap before they launched my sorry ass to the Moon, okay? And one of those things is a UN agreement signed in 1967." She frowned and looked over at Masterson. "Hey, Colonel Mustard? Got a smartphone on you?"
The fox looked anything but thrilled. "Call me that again and you'll be walking out of here in handcuffs."
Sandra rolled her eyes at him. "Cute. Can I borrow it a minute? Or, anybody's really. Mine's in the Shuttle and probably won't work here, anyway. I need to look something up on Wikipedia."
Masterson handed her his phone as theblack furred canine smiled a little too warmly at him. She typed silently on it for a few moments as the others stared at her. Then she wagged rapidly and grinned. "Alright, Colonel. Since we clearly_aren't_ from here and you've never heard of us..." She cleared her throat and read the text on the device. "Article V of the Outer Space Treaty of 1967: States Parties to the Treaty shall regard astronauts as envoys of mankind in outer space and shall render to them all possible assistance in the event of accident, distress, or emergency landing on the territory of another State Party or on the high seas..." The canine appeared to pause a second, then grinned. "On top of that, there's the Agreement on the Rescue of Astronauts, the Return of Astronauts and the Return of Objects Launched into Outer Space, which says that you have to return THAT," with that, she pointed in the direction of the Shuttle again, "and us to the International Space Agency, which will presumably compensate you for the trouble at that point." She smirked. "We fell into Oz, buddy. It's now your job by international treaty to send us back."
Everyone stared at the jackal. Masterson looked like he was processing it all deeply before finally his shoulders slumped.
"I still don't know where in God's name you people came from or what the ISA is, but that all sounds like it's official." He seemed to think a moment and smiled. "Then it's settled. The BOS will help take care of anything you need while you're here, we'll take care of the Shuttle."
Dyno Donkey's face fell because he knew that was going to be a lot of paperwork and Medic and Ranger exchanged looks. Slipstream just clapped.
"All right, we get new friends! I always like new friends!"
"Hold the phone." Roger raised a finger up to interrupt the conversation. "Nice try, Colonel, but your obligation here is to store the Shuttle in a hangar, return our things out of the middeck and leave it the hell alone until such time as you can get it back to where it properly came from." He paused. "Which, as you were quick to remind us, wasn't here." The raccoon's frown deepened. "Plus, it contains sensitive cargo and optical instruments that could be contaminated if you try to jimmy open the payload bay doors, and there's still a lot propellant on board that could explode if we don't get someone out here soon to drain it and safe the thing."
Masterson thought for a second and nodded. "You're absolutely right. Listen, I'm not a monster, I'm just as confused as all of you. But we will follow protocol to the letter and get everything settled. Quickly. God forbid if this should get out into the press."
Sandra paused as she handed the fox his phone. "Uh... Colonel? We just flew over California at 5 times the speed of sound. You can't exactly_hide_ that." She paused again. "And Horizon's been sitting out there for hours."
The fox nodded. "Yes. So we have to hide_you_seven as best we can. Ranger and the others will help you with that. Special lodging for this sort of thing."
Sarah snorted a bit and sighed. "They're gonna_have_ to. None of us have any ID on hand."
The other astronauts started to mutter softly, but after a moment, Harris summed it up for the group. "So to review, we landed in California, but not in_our_ California, apparently. We've got no ID, no money, our cellphones probably aren't going to work because they aren't registered with the cell networks around here and we've got a Space Shuttle Orbiter to get back to some other dimension. Wonderful, great. Did I miss anything?"
She then felt Ranger put a paw on her shoulder. Despite being so large and intimidating, she was still reassuring. "Don't worry, Ms. Harris, we'll handle it all. Like the Colonel said, we have plans for this sort of thing."
Sandra paused and looked at the ursine a moment. "And we're going to be helped by actual superheroes. I forgot about that part." She closed her eyes a moment and sighed. "...you've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone. Damned straight, Rod Serling. Damned straight."
Slipstream then started to hum the theme very conspicuously, wiggling his fingers.
* * * * * * *
Sandra rubbed her eyes and stared upwards at the ceiling. The bed next to her was covered in folders and binders, including a map of Colmaton, and nearby, the jacket she had been given sat haphazardly thrown on a chair. She looked over at the folders again and clutched her head with a slight whimper, the TV droning on with a commercial in the background.
"Jesus Christ..."
As promised, Ranger had set the crew up in several hotel rooms and paid for the lodging. They had been put up at a hotel in the heart of the city, with the feel of a cloak and dagger operation. They had also been given prepaid debit cards for the time being as their information was sorted out, and the BOS had promised to get back to them soon. Before that, though, had come the full debrief at the air base, where the full picture had started to emerge.
The crew had said what they knew, starting with a history of how the ISA had come into being. Following the Apollo-Soyuz Test Project, the nations of the world had established the International Space Agency to coordinate large multinational projects in orbit. It had worked to oversee NASA and the Russian space agency's early work on the Shuttle-Mir Program, and had overseen the start of the International Space Station. The agency's own fleet of Shuttles had been approved for construction prior to the_Columbia_ accident, which had happened the same way it had for the world they'd ended up in. The agency, after making improvements to the fleet, had gone ahead and launched their Shuttles despite some public and political opposition, with the first flights coming from California out of Vandenberg Air Force Base, and then from a set of new launch pads at Kennedy Space Center after that. NASA, meanwhile, had retired its 3 remaining Orbiters in 2011 following the completion of the ISS. It was currently working with commercial agencies to ferry crew and cargo to space and on a large rocket of its own for the vague goal of going to an asteroid.
The ISA had also managed to start a lunar program, and had a permanent base at the south pole of the Moon. They had also successfully landed a crew on Mars the year before, which had earned a few minutes of odd looks from the people on the other side of the table when they'd shared it. The crew had also told their stories.
The two pilots and Sonya Alvarez were all veteran astronauts, with extensive Air Force training under their belts. Yuma Tazuka was the robotic arm specialist. She was from Japan, although she now worked directly for the ISA rather than the Japanese space agency for reasons she refused to give details on, though the other astronauts had to restrain a few smirks. Ehud Shalom was the second Israeli astronaut in space, and the first to visit the International Space Station. He had served with distinction in the Israeli Air Force and had been selected a few years before. Ricky Wilson was an engineer who'd been lucky enough to be selected as a mission specialist and was on his first mission which had, he'd admitted, gone pretty well up until reentry. Finally, there was Sandra, the oddest of the group, who had to explain to the incredulous group of BOS staff and Air Force officials that she had become an astronaut at age 20 and had walked on the Moon on the second lunar base flight a few years later. She'd done it after the death of her brother, as it had been his lifelong dream to walk on the Moon, but he'd never had the chance. Her mother knew the head of the ISA, and after a series of impassioned meetings (and a liberal amount of profanity), she'd managed to secure a spot on the second flight to the lunar south pole, placed his ashes on the Moon and made history.
After that, they'd all been chosen for a mission to bring the Hubble Space Telescope back to Earth for display at the Air and Space Museum in Washington. However, the mission was later deemed too dangerous to attempt and required too many modifications to the Shuttle to be worth the effort and risk. The mission was then changed to a servicing flight, swapping out instruments and boosting the telescope into a higher orbit. STS-217 had launched perfectly a little over two weeks before, and had been due to come into Florida until the weather had gotten bad thanks to an off-season tropical storm in the Atlantic. They'd been diverted to Edwards Air Force Base, and on the way in, something had happened to their instruments for an instant and they'd stopped talking to mission control. Until that moment, the landing had been completely normal. That was as much as they'd known before they'd spotted the F-22s. After that, they'd all been given documents on the history of the BOS and phones to find out what they wanted to know about the world they were in.
It wasn't a long history, only 17 years, but it was made clear that there were two types of supers in the world: ones registered with the BOS and those that weren't. They learned of the world governments insisting that those with superpowers register with the United Nations. Some did, but a lot didn't, including arguably America's most popular heroine Lady Liberty. For eight years there were contentious legal fights until a truce of sorts was reached. The Colmaton Truce, as it came to be known, allowed unregistered superheroes to operate as long as they didn't commit any heinous crimes.
Ranger had assured them the city was relatively safe, but the reality was that some criminals thrived on taking on supers as a badge of honor. So, it didn't hurt to exercise caution when going out.
There was more information, but the Truce had been the point where Sandra had finally stumbled, bleary-eyed and exhausted from the weight of the situation and the return to Earth, into her hotel room and collapsed on the bed. She'd briefly eyed the minibar, but had decided against it. Sobriety was called for, though she desperately wished it wasn't. She'd flipped through the documents again, which also included a few dossiers of some well-known heroes, and had finally given up trying to comprehend it.
"Superheroes," she breathed and closed her eyes again. She'd managed to cheat death on the way down to Earth in a Space Shuttle and had ended up in a world straight out of a comic book. She'd stopped pretending to understand the universe and its mysterious ways long before, but this did it. Dimly, she heard the TV again.
"Her name is the Arrow 1. She represents four and a half years of planning, preparation, and training, and a thousand years of science, mathematics, and the projected dreams and hopes of not only a nation, but a world. She is the first manned aircraft into space and this is the countdown. The last five seconds before man shot an arrow into the air."
"Oh, you've got to be--" She snarled softly and grabbed the remote control from the nightstand next to the bed, pressing the power button as hard as she possibly could. The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. She had turned her head up to curse at the ceiling when there was a soft knock on the door of the room. She stopped and looked at it.
"Hey, kiddo? Got a second?
The jackal got up slowly and moved towards the door, the loaned t-shirt and blue jeans wrinkled from the bed. On the other side, Commander Mason stood, dressed in a similar t-shirt with the Air Force emblem on it and a pair of khaki slacks. The raccoon looked about as bad as she did, and she could only imagine the thoughts going through his head.
"Hey, Roger..." She took in a deep breath and sighed. "What's up?"
The raccoon smirked. "Plenty, apparently. But, shit, I'm gonna process that later when I'm not sober." He took a deep breath and sighed. "Listen, um. Normally, I'd do this at the debrief over at McGregor later in the week, but..." He trailed off and sighed. Sandra nodded slowly. The post-flight debrief with the press was something they'd mentioned a bit on orbit. They'd been looking forward to doing a few pranks on the press.
"Yeah, it's... probably gonna be delayed for a while." She finished the thought for him and sighed.
Roger nodded a bit and reached for a pocket of his slacks. "Well, normally you and Ricky would get these there, but no time like the present." He pulled out an embroidered patch from his pocket and handed it to her. "You earned it." She took it gingerly and looked down at it.
It was a simple design, shaped like a parallelogram and mostly light blue. A small Space Shuttle Orbiter streaked across the patch from left to right, leaving a trail behind it with "MACH" in red letters in it, all on top of a blue number_25._ It was something she'd worked towards for three years and it was finally hers. She stared at it for a few seconds in mute admiration before looking up at him.
"Roger, I--" She stopped and smiled at him. "Thank you."
He smiled warmly back at her, and even through the haze of exhaustion on his face, he genuinely looked proud. "No problem, Sandra. Take good care of that one, yeah? It rode up there with us." She nodded to him and he patted her shoulder gently. "I'm going to go give the spotty kitty his. Hopefully he's not passed out drunk like I wanted to be. You-" He stopped and looked at her a second. "You gonna be alright, kiddo?"
She stared at him.Commander to the end, even now, she thought. It struck her at that moment that for him, the mission wasn't over yet. They were still explorers in a strange land, and he was in charge of them. She nodded slowly and sighed.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm gonna be alright, Roger. Just... got a lot on my mind right now."
He nodded slowly and sighed. "Gotcha. Get some sleep, it helps. Just be careful... the bed--"
She cut him off and nodded. "Yeah, they mentioned that." One of the things they'd worried about in space the day before was the possibility of rolling out of bed. It happened to a lot of astronauts when they came back from orbit, and the first few days were the worst. "I'll be fine, don't worry."
The raccoon nodded again and turned to walk down the hall, his ringed tail swaying slowly behind him. Sandra stared at him a moment as he knocked on another door a few rooms down. It felt, she thought, like they were back in quarantine before the flight. In glorified hotel rooms at NASA's crew quarters in Florida, passing the time in isolation before their mission. She sighed and shut the door gently, putting the lock on it.
"Boo."
The voice caused her to jump and she whipped around in surprise, instantly regretting it as her head reeled from the motion. Sitting on the bed nearby, a young man with the same dark fur and blue eyes sat, playing gently with the edge of one of the folders. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and sneakers, and his shirt had a logo of an alligator in front of a hockey goal on it, the words "2008 STANLEY CUP CHAMPIONS" around the edges of it. She stared for a few seconds in mute shock at him.
"Greg?" The other jackal nodded slowly and stood up, holding his arms out and shrugging nonchalantly.
"Yeah. Yeah, it's me. You look good, sis." He smiled warmly back at her and turned to look out of the window, pulling the curtain back a bit to glance out at the dim twilight of the city.
"How are you--" She stopped and rubbed her head. She eyed the minibar again and remembered that she wasn't paying for the room. She stooped to open it and pulled out a can of Red Bull. The other jackal turned and sighed at her.
"I bend the rules a lot, you know that." He sighed and moved the jacket to rest on the arm of the chair, flopping into it as she sat on the bed. "I mean, shit, Sandra. I've been dead for damned near nine years now." He paused a second. "Well, eight and a half, but who's counting?"
"Apparently you are," she said and downed a third of the can with a wince. Her brother snorted softly.
"Yeah, well. Give me some credit. At least I can keep an eye on you." His smile faded a bit and his ears drooped. "Sorry you're not with mom right now, though." She looked up and saw the look on his face. Her mother worked for a defense contractor and had been able to fly to Edwards from Plant 42 in Palmdale for the landing. But she hadn't been there, not in this place. She stared at him for a few seconds and sighed.
"Greg...how are you here?" He grimaced and took a deep breath. His ears splayed out a little and he ran a hand through his hair.
"The powers that be," he said with a sigh. "Usually don't like it when the dead interact with the living. You can imagine why." She nodded slowly and winced at the thought. He sighed again and continued. "One thing I have now is a copious amount of free time. All of it I ever wanted, not that I wanted it in the first place."
A brief vision of another episode of_The Twilight Zone_ flashed through her mind and she frowned, pointing at the TV with the can."Did you do that?"
She saw him turn and blush slightly. "Uh. No, not that time. That was just a coincidence." He stopped and looked up at her. "This may surprise you, Sandra, but not everything in the universe happens for a_reason._Sometimes it's just random."
That earned him a frown and she felt her ears fold back. "Is that supposed to explain any of this?" She saw him flinch and sigh.
"Look, Sandra. I'm here because the laws of physics don't_apply_ for me anymore. I'm outside of the rules-" He paused and considered his words a moment, then shut his eyes a bit. "Okay, that's not fully true. I still have to follow some rules. But one thing I discovered in all of this was that I'm not the only person to not be thrilled with meeting his maker so soon."
She stared at him a few moments. He'd first shown up like this years ago, in her dreams. At first, she'd chalked it up to her imagination and a profound sense of loss for her brother and closest friend, until he'd shown up in person, just like he had tonight. It had been at a costume party hosted on Halloween in her town, about a year before her first flight into space and it had scared the everliving daylights out of her then. He'd done it occasionally since that night, and had explained once that it was the celestial equivalent of a military pass that let him wander about and visit her and certain other places and times, with some conditions. With little exception, he'd apparently stuck to whatever mystical rules the afterlife required of it, as far as she could tell.
"But why are you_here?"_ She gestured broadly again and sighed. "Now, I mean. I don't even want to know how you usually show up when you do, but... why now?"
He stared at her for a long moment and sighed. "Because, frankly, you're in weirder shit than even I know how to handle. Look, I can access a lot of places most people can't, and I was following you on the way down to make sure you didn't--" He caught the look on her face and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Anyway, that's my story. I was keeping an eye on you. Mom and dad already lost me... you're all they've got."
She glanced up at him again and sighed, softly. "Greg... They're not even around in," She stopped and tried to think of a good phrasing. "Wherever the hell this is. I tried looking them up." She closed her eyes and sighed. "Nothing. Hell, our_town_ doesn't even exist." She pointed at the bed. "This place didn't exist for us, either. Greg, they-" She took a deep breath and the other jackal stood, moving over and hugging her softly. She sighed and felt him wrap his arms gingerly around her.
"They're not gone, Sandra. I dunno where you and I are right now. But home's still waiting for you. I can get there, but I can't exactly help any of you with that."
She looked up at him and he gave her a weak smile that faded instantly the moment he saw her expression. "Rules, remember? I hate 'em." He sighed and kissed her between the ears lightly. "Look. I'll keep an eye on you, okay? Until this is over."
She stared up at him and sighed. "Promise?"
He grinned and wagged softly. "Cross my heart. Can't promise the second part of it."
She smirked weakly and gave him a playful punch on the arm. "Jerk."
He grinned and rubbed his arm a bit, before he glanced at the patch Commander Mason had given her. He stared at it for a long moment before sighing softly. "You
know... I envy you sometimes, sis. I wanted one of those patches more than you could ever know." He looked at her again and closed his eyes, reaching up to rub one gently. "I'm proud of ya'."
She smirked at him and wiped one of her eyes as well, the tears threatening to build up. "Your fault I'm in this mess, you know."
"Yeah..." He said, sighing. "Which means you're stuck with me until you get home. Look, the commander was right. Get some sleep. God knows you need it."
She stared at him a few more seconds. "What're you gonna do?"
He sighed softly and rubbed his neck, gesturing to the folders. "Light reading. Don't worry. Nobody else can see me, but given the, you know," He paused and looked at a binder. "People in spandex running and flying around, I don't think I'm the most unusual thing here. I'm kind of concerned about running into the Ghostbusters or something, though." They both shared a nervous laugh and he sighed. "Look, I'll leave you alone. Rest up. If you need me, just whisper or something, okay?" She nodded and he held up a hand, snapping his fingers with a frighteningly loud snap. He was gone instantly and she looked around a moment. The only sign he'd been there was the slightly pulled back curtain and the jacket on the chair, which was still folded neatly on one arm.
She sighed and cleared the binders from the bed, moving them to a small table in the room near the TV. Despite the energy drink, she felt utterly drained by the time she was done and plugged her loaned phone into the wall in a daze before noting the time. It was 10 PM. She'd been up since 4:45 in the morning on the Shuttle, which used Central time. That had been over 19 hours earlier. She'd been up for 19 of the most nerve wracking hours of her life. She placed the patch gently on the nightstand and propped it up against the clock radio, staring at it as she shut the light off. She fell asleep almost instantly and dreamt of the Earth going by nearly 370 miles below her feet on the first spacewalk.
The crew of Space Shuttle Horizon and the ISA belong to yours truly.
Super co-author extraordinaire Sam Gwosdz.
Slipstream belongs toGameGod210.
Strikira belongs toWolfrider.
The City of Colmaton, CA and Ranger created byTRAIN.
Medic Mouse, Doe Dynamo, Dyno-Donkey and the Bureau of Superheroes created by MojoRover.