dark wall of Jupiter slid into view, blocking out all light. Marco had aimed the stern of the ship at their destination. Now flying backwards, Marco fired the engines, and Stacy sank into the seat’s padding, the sensation of lying on her back under several G’s a welcome respite.
When the burn ended, weightlessness returned. A lighter burn pressed her into her seat for a moment, then a bit more, and they were floating.
As they closed on Europa, the wall of Jupiter became a disk of blackness against a sea of stars. The bladed crescent of its terminator grew along the edge of that disk, glowing in sandstone hues, which blazed brightly after the darkness of the shadow-side transit.
Marco’s voice came over the intercom, “Okay folks, we’re on course to pass the airlock at a relative speed of approximately 1585 klicks per hour.”
“That’s going to be one hell of a shot,” Stacy said to X. “You sure you can make it? You only get one chance.”
“If I only have one shot,” X said, unbuckling himself and shoving off his seat, floating toward the rear of the transport, “whether I can or can’t doesn’t figure in. I have to.”
Stacy nodded her agreement.
Adanna unlatched her harness as Marco said, “Find a handhold folks. I’m turning us head on to Europa.”
Adanna and X grabbed for handholds. As the Warthog turned, their bodies arced around and pressed against the wall. When the Warthog stabilized, Stacy unlatched and pushed her way up to the cockpit.
Marco looked over his shoulder at her.
She looked past Marco’s glowing instrument panel, out the leaded, five-inch thick cockpit glass to the brilliant quarter crescent of Europa.
“How long?”
“Thirty minutes.”
Stacy patted Marco’s shoulder and pushed back into the rear cabin, finally settling into the sensation of weightlessness. “Adanna and Horace, you’re my side gunners on this run, get ‘ em ready.”
“Marco,” she called forward.
Marco looked at her through the small passage. “Yes, O.C.?”
“How’s our glide path looking for debris?”
“I can’t do an active scan without painting us in the sky, but I think we’re looking fairly good to avoid anything large. We’re still going to make good use of our armor plating through the small stuff though.”
“Okay.” Stacy turned to Horace. “You and Adanna get the pulse-nukes prepped.”
Horace and Adanna both nodded and went to work.
“X,” Stacy called to the rear of the ship, “you ready?”
From down in the floor panels X called back, “I have the cable almost loaded.” His head of coarse, dark hair popped up. “About ten minutes away.”
“Get it done, X. I need you to have chair time to settle your nerves.”
“Yes O.C.” His head disappeared again.
“You need help?”
“Negative O.C.”
Jacqueline had remained strapped in. Stacy said to her, “You’re on when we get the survivors on board.” She scanned the team members, glanced at Marco’s shoulder in the cockpit and the hole in the floor where X was. “We won’t have time for quarantine as we have no idea how much oxygen these folks have. They were in a clean environment, and we have to bank on that environment as having stayed clean. They’re going to be cold and perhaps asphyxiated.” She looked back to Jacqueline. “You ready?”
“Affirmative O.C., totally ready.”
Stacy signed okay as she called up to the cockpit. “Time Marco.”
“Twenty-six minutes thirty-five seconds until we pass apex on the airlock.”
“You get that X?”
X’s voice came muffled from the floorboards. “Affirmative O.C.”
Stacy watched the hole in which X was working. What was taking so long? She felt the desire to check on him but knew she had to let him work, had to show trust, hell, had to have trust. They waited, Jacqueline looking at the floor as Horace worked with Adanna to prep the nukes. Adanna stole glances at Horace.
Stacy’s anger at them reignited. Their selfishness would force
When the burn ended, weightlessness returned. A lighter burn pressed her into her seat for a moment, then a bit more, and they were floating.
As they closed on Europa, the wall of Jupiter became a disk of blackness against a sea of stars. The bladed crescent of its terminator grew along the edge of that disk, glowing in sandstone hues, which blazed brightly after the darkness of the shadow-side transit.
Marco’s voice came over the intercom, “Okay folks, we’re on course to pass the airlock at a relative speed of approximately 1585 klicks per hour.”
“That’s going to be one hell of a shot,” Stacy said to X. “You sure you can make it? You only get one chance.”
“If I only have one shot,” X said, unbuckling himself and shoving off his seat, floating toward the rear of the transport, “whether I can or can’t doesn’t figure in. I have to.”
Stacy nodded her agreement.
Adanna unlatched her harness as Marco said, “Find a handhold folks. I’m turning us head on to Europa.”
Adanna and X grabbed for handholds. As the Warthog turned, their bodies arced around and pressed against the wall. When the Warthog stabilized, Stacy unlatched and pushed her way up to the cockpit.
Marco looked over his shoulder at her.
She looked past Marco’s glowing instrument panel, out the leaded, five-inch thick cockpit glass to the brilliant quarter crescent of Europa.
“How long?”
“Thirty minutes.”
Stacy patted Marco’s shoulder and pushed back into the rear cabin, finally settling into the sensation of weightlessness. “Adanna and Horace, you’re my side gunners on this run, get ‘ em ready.”
“Marco,” she called forward.
Marco looked at her through the small passage. “Yes, O.C.?”
“How’s our glide path looking for debris?”
“I can’t do an active scan without painting us in the sky, but I think we’re looking fairly good to avoid anything large. We’re still going to make good use of our armor plating through the small stuff though.”
“Okay.” Stacy turned to Horace. “You and Adanna get the pulse-nukes prepped.”
Horace and Adanna both nodded and went to work.
“X,” Stacy called to the rear of the ship, “you ready?”
From down in the floor panels X called back, “I have the cable almost loaded.” His head of coarse, dark hair popped up. “About ten minutes away.”
“Get it done, X. I need you to have chair time to settle your nerves.”
“Yes O.C.” His head disappeared again.
“You need help?”
“Negative O.C.”
Jacqueline had remained strapped in. Stacy said to her, “You’re on when we get the survivors on board.” She scanned the team members, glanced at Marco’s shoulder in the cockpit and the hole in the floor where X was. “We won’t have time for quarantine as we have no idea how much oxygen these folks have. They were in a clean environment, and we have to bank on that environment as having stayed clean. They’re going to be cold and perhaps asphyxiated.” She looked back to Jacqueline. “You ready?”
“Affirmative O.C., totally ready.”
Stacy signed okay as she called up to the cockpit. “Time Marco.”
“Twenty-six minutes thirty-five seconds until we pass apex on the airlock.”
“You get that X?”
X’s voice came muffled from the floorboards. “Affirmative O.C.”
Stacy watched the hole in which X was working. What was taking so long? She felt the desire to check on him but knew she had to let him work, had to show trust, hell, had to have trust. They waited, Jacqueline looking at the floor as Horace worked with Adanna to prep the nukes. Adanna stole glances at Horace.
Stacy’s anger at them reignited. Their selfishness would force
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