draft published: 19.09.11
"Are you sure you're strapped in properly?"
Catlin sighted inwardly and just nodded to Milo who was looking at her from his seat across the gangway. Only a minute ago he had checked the straps himself before sitting down on his own seat. All seats were still upright. From past experience Catlin knew it would take another 5 to 10 minutes before the pre-launch signal would sound and every passengers cabin would tilt, turning each seat into soft padded semi-beds, followed by a side way movement when the cabin would slide over the rail into its position in the space-plane itself.
Although the tight straps restricted her movements she managed to look over her shoulder to the back of the cabin. Her dad, on Mondial assignment, had managed to secure the two only single seats at the front of the space-plane which would take them to the EMM station. Once in launch position she would have an unrestricted view in the cockpit and hopefully through the large view screen in front of the astro-pilots. Behind her the 9 rows were filling up fast, the only stewart still on board fussing over a small piece of hand luggage one of the passengers seemed reluctant to part with.
"It'll be rigth underneath your seat, sir, you can retrieve it the minute we're in stable orbit." with a firm tug the steward removed the small bag from the hands of its owner, bend down and stuffed it in the small compartment located underneath every seat. The owner was about the protest again but a frown on the stewards face made him think otherwise. He just grumbled under his breath, checked his strap and closed his eyes. The steward, a tall man in his late 40's, made his way to the last row where the last arrivals were strapping themselves in.
Catlin turned her head forwards again. On the wall in front of her, a row of lights turned from green to amber, the sign that all allocated seats were filled. Behind her she heard the entrance door being closed with a loud clang when the bolts secured it air-tight. Only a few minutes now she thought and prepared mentally for the next step in the launch procedure, one she found the least comfortable: the tilting and sliding. It always made her feel as if the cabin was one large gurney being wheeled along a very long corridor.
Across the gangway her dad gave her an encouraging smile and a wink. He knew her discomfort but also knew it would take only a few minutes before the roughest part of the journey would end and semi-weightlesness would arrive. Catlin faced forward again, lights had turned to red and her seat started to move. In a reflex she gripped the arms of her seat and closed her eyes. The slow tilting movement made her queasy and she swallowed hard. The general buzz of her fellow travelers died down also
"Click" - the tilting movement has stopped and the seat was now a semi-bed, the padded back a mattress where her body would be pressed into during take-off. A hardly noticeable urge to the right indicated their cabin was moving into the belly of the space-plane. A much louder "click" - in Catlin's ears more a "clang" told her they were slotted in place.
"One minute to launch" the overhead speaker burst to live with the pilot's voice. "All systems are green, take a deep breath and we'll be in orbit before you know it. You will experience the launch g-forces for the next 5 minutes, so brace yourselves now."
Cat's flexpad on her wrist bleeped: her mother's faced popped up. "Good luck, I'll miss you." she seemed to mouth. The same moment G-forces kicked in and Cat closed her eyes even tighter. The weight of three elephants seemed to have landed on her chest. To take her mind of the growing discomfort - which she knew would pass within a few minutes - Cat thought back to last week, when the camping plans for her summer holiday turned upside down.
Returning from her last year at pre-academy, her parents, Josie and Milo, had planned to spend at least half of the long summer break Cat was entitled to camping at their favourite stretch of coast line. This surprise had taken some frantic organising and even a touch of gently black-mail on dad's account, cajoling one of his colleagues to take over his stint at the Mars colony.
The camping break lasted exactly 3 days. Three days of leisure, catching up with stories, fishing and swimming in the sea, long and warm evenings spent around the wood fire, early morning walks to the nearby little village for refreshments and daily fresh shopping. Paradise.
Until mom's flexpad beeped: general alert at her aqua station. A suspected act of sabotage had damaged part of the processing unit, no one was harmed or injured, but all leaves were canceled until further notice. It was all hands on deck - or as Milo tried to joke: all hands under the deck in this case - to repair the station and get the food process up and running as quickly as possible. Josie, as specialist aqua food technician was desperately needed back in the water.
"We'll come with you," Milo decided, "and spend the rest of our holiday on the station's island while you fix what needs to be fixed. We'll break up the tent now, have it transported while we take the bullet train and camp out in one of the barracks till our stuff catches up with us. No doubt the barracks will be mostly empty now, with the alert going on."
After a five hour train journey at high speed, Milo and Catlin helped Josie as best as they could - without getting too much in the way of other technicians climbing on board the sea diver with an increasing amount of spare parts, tools and equipment. They heard snippets of rumours, speculations from the divers and technicians and official broadcasts by Mondial Corp. A leak had sprang in the fresh water supply due to possible human error and flooded part of the high tech food processor, according to the official statement.
"Human error - my foot!" exclaimed one of Josie's colleagues. "Act of sabotage, and not the first one either."
30 minutes after their arrival the sea diver dived to the aqua station, 4000 feet below the gentle waves which surrounded the tropical island. Milo and Catlin sauntered to the mess barrack and found the few remaining people: the cook and two convalescent technicians. Their physician had traveled down water with the first sea diver the minute the alarm was raised and left his patients with strict orders to follow his medical instructions to the letter.
"Yeap, take plenty of rest and drink plenty of water," complaint one. "As if that's going to cure my broken wrist! I'd rather gone down with the rest and help out. Nothing wrong with my other arm."
His colleague shook her head: "You'd be no use at all Ngum. Able bodies only, you know that. Too hectic to rely on one not fit as a fiddle." before returning to her extended flexpad to continue reading, taking a spoon full of food from her plate at times.
Ngum turned to the new arrivals.
"Get some food in yourselfs, while it is still warm. Cook is not having his best day, keeps muttering about all the fresh food that's going to waste now. Better hurry before he vacuum-packs it for the general market."
One of the advantages of her parents both being food technicians was the access to fresh food, Catlin had found. Most of her fellow students were raised on vacuum-packs. The only times they encountered "the real stuff" was on celebration days and then only very sparsely, as many had told Catlin. The subject only came up when the profession of parents was mentioned during class work or during social events and Catlin had decided early on in her training not to volunteer the information about her privileged youth if she could avoid it.
