Piece Simul ✔

Chapter 2-Russ-Altogether Now

Russ Rodriguez finished tucking the pant legs into her boots. Unlike her colleagues, she understood the dangers of being unprepared. She noted their dangling pant legs and shook her head.

A last minute trip for a last minute bunch. The launch window had been pushed back again and again. The latest delay had amounted to four days, finally being moved up by one day. That left everyone scrambling for the reality of the trip. Unlike the rest of the group, Russ had always been ready to leave.

None of their specialties meshed, and yet the Institute insisted on sending them as a group. It didn't hurt that they were the oldest and therefore most experienced in their fields. For the most part.

Tiptree Pak and Samuel Skeegan lingered at the entrance way, until Forster Collins pushed them in. The white polished walkway tripped them up, but they found footing. Russ snickered, continuing to grin as Samuel settled next to her.

"It's gonna be my first time in the air," Samuel said, blue eyes shining.

Tiptree added, "Yeah, the simulators don't count, right Russ?"

"Not up there they don't," she said.

Intellectual types were always so cavalier. They had been all smiles from day one, even with the seriousness of their mission. Russ was unclear why they needed a theologian and an anthropologist to restart the population, but Tiptree and Samuel weren't so bad. Guin Lee was the worst.

A writer by trade, and a science teacher by accident, Guin assured everyone of her "expertise." If Russ heard one more thing about string theory, she was bound to throw something.

"Harnesses up and away. Let's keep Control on schedule!" Forster said.

He lumbered to the front cabin, calling on Russ to join him. As second in command, she scurried to follow the Captain.

Out of everyone, Forster proved the favorite. He had flown several missions, not just preliminaries like Russ. She recalled a few years back, viewing the pivotal moment when the first human boot made contact with Mar's surface, Forster's boot to be exact. She hadn't known him yet, but after the internationally-streamed event, everyone knew his name.

Samuel remained starstruck, fumbling for words whenever Forster addressed him.

"I'm in, man!" Samuel assured their leader, even as a Control bot popped up to adjust the tech settings.

"Address him as 'sir' at all times," Kathar Moldive snapped.

He was the rep the Institute had sent to ensure their investment, and the mission, ran smoothly. Kathar was missing a sense of humor, and an overall sense of decency. Most likely his advanced age of forty-two had enabled his success, because his personality was lacking, much like his balding head.

Samuel nodded at Kathar, but didn't correct himself. Forster had moved on anyway, seemingly unconcerned with Samuel's cavalier attitude. Though, Russ knew if she responded to him with 'man', she'd hear about it.

In the front cabin, Forster ran his hands lovingly over the captain's chair, then settled in. Russ settled into her station.

The gleaming interior of the ship still impressed her. According to rumor, it would be the last of its kind due to dwindling resources. The Institute's largest donor was known for her wealth, and eccentricity. Most of the project's funds diverted toward the hyperdrive, a monstrosity of tech that took up the entire third module. The ship's engineer, Jason Campbell, made sure everything ran smoothly.

"Ready to see just how far this boat'll go?" Forster smiled, and Russ smiled back.

She didn't mind his smiles, and they were infectious anyway. For a man in his fifties, he still looked good: mocha skin nearly wrinkle-free, and a smile whiter than the gleaming hub-walls.

Citizens as old as Forster were a rarity. Along with the earned notoriety, his age had catapulted him to god-like status over the last decade.

Russ readied her hands on the virtual controls, the red lights calibrating to fit her manipulations. "Let's get going. We have work to do."

"We sure do." Forster tapped his wrist, activating the chip inside. "Control, we're a-go. Confirm harnessed passengers and initiate launch."

A voice resounded in each team member's head, announcing the launch sequence.

Tiptree and Guin hollered from their seats, signaling their excitement. Russ pictured Samuel fidgeting with the harness, asking the bot to re-adjust yet again.

"Launch confirmed," Russ said. "See ya in a few years, Control."

If we see you at all.

The contract she had signed detailed a ten-year trip, with the warning of impending death, or a failed drive mechanism.

In the event an alien race eviscerated them, their contracts absolved the Institute of any and all responsibility. If they encountered infectious plant life, they were to immediately quarantine effected crew members. If their research yielded nothing, Forster and Russ had been briefed on the back-up protocol.

The ship rocketed out of the clouds, emerging into the clarity of dark sky and blinking stars.

"Maneuvers," Forster reminded Russ.

She nodded, thinking back to training. Propelling out of the atmosphere had to be done with care to avoid MMOD's. Space was so vast that anyone who ventured into it displayed little concern for how they left it. Tons of debris floated near the atmosphere, drawn in by Earth's gravity.

"Russ?"

"I see it," she said, jerking the controls to swerve the ship around an abandoned launch vehicle.

Forster praised her efforts, then said,

"Check the Whipple bumper is fully functional---"

"---in the event of more debris. Yes, sir."

Though she had cut him off to finish his sentence, Forster chuckled. Russ smiled, double-checking the bumper sensors.

The international space station disappeared behind them in a wink, and Russ barely caught a glimpse. The station had been her first mission, and until now, she hadn't gone further than scrubbing the inner hull. She longed for the days of mop-wielding. The simplicity of cleaning brought sense to things, not like the mission she now dealt with.

I'm in the mess, and there's no gettin' out.

All the same, she was ready for the next ten years in space.

Freakin' space.

Anything was better than life on the ground.

~*~

A/N: This is my latest!

Thanks to the inquisitive Adrian_Birch, I was inspired to share the progress. Please, vote, comment, and tell me what the hell I can do to improve this mess.

Next, make a unilateral move by reading Dead in Bed, by @Adrian_Birch. You won't regret it!