A Soldier's Permission to Die

CHAPTER 5

Chapter 5

A week later I found myself back in uniform again, being jostled about, only this time it wasn't on an M-bus. I was hitching a ride with Spiderman on an Air Force cargo transport. We were on our way to get to our space docking flight out of the military section at LAX.

I was accustomed to military transports by now, but the next leg of the journey really scared the shit out of me. Space flight would be a completely new experience for me. I was even more freaked out when I found out more how subspace travel really works. Now here come’s the crazy part. The insane reality that any subspace traveler has to contemplate before hitching a ride on the big birds is this: Its deadly.

In fact, It always results in death. For some anyway. Approximately 0.5% to be exact. Current ratios show that For every 1000 passengers that go into Subspace low-em flight mode, about 5 never wake up. That’s 5 deaths Every Flight! In fact, there have been at least 1 fatality on every subspace flight of a star freighter for the last 30 years, ever since they started building them.

People are told this, and yet they still fly. The government deems it “an acceptable risk level”. That’s 1 death per every 200 passengers! There have been war zones with lower risk margins than that!

Needless to say, insurance for such flights is astronomically expensive. But in spite of the dangers, the world court ruled that individuals have the right to make the decision to fly if they wish, and so even today, entire families will still get their travel visas and board the big birds only to find that daddy or mommy or little Susie didn’t wake up at the end of the flight. Insanity!

But none of that mattered to me or Spiderman because we were on a military transport. We had no choice in the matter whatsoever. That's just part and parcel to the job. My soul may belong to the almighty, but my ass belongs to the FSC. Hoo-Hah!

I looked out the transport window. We were approaching the Pacific flight corridor. Below us, the endless city-lands gave way to ocean, and stretching for miles as far as the eye could see were the giant floating agricultural bog-pads they used for growing crops over the water. They made the Ag caps look like tiny flower pots by comparison, the multicolored patchwork each signifying a different crop. To the south, a few tugboats were hauling in a line of the square sections to port for processing.

“Hey Spidy, check this out” I said.

Spidy opened his eyes from napping. I don't know how anyone can sleep on a cargo transport.

“What is it?” he said.

“Bog-farms. It's really cool” I said.

Spiderman closed his eyes again. “Seen em.” he said. “Remember I used to live out here once.”

“Yea...when you were like 4...” I replied sarcastically.

Spidy pulled the rim of his helmet down over his eyes. “I still remember em' though. Once you seen one bog-farm, you seen em' all.”

When we finally landed at LAX, we didn't have long to wait for our transfer to the main rocket flight. We got there just in time to witness the launch of the last group before us to head up to space docking. Everything looks like a normal air flight at first, until the transport gets up to about 10,000 feet...then they kicked the rockets in gear and were gone before you know it. An awesome site from down here, but all things being equal, I'd rather just stay on the ground. Of course, that wasn't an option.

As I stood there in the terminal watching the rockets, I felt my right foot begin to twitch anxiously. I knew the signs. Shit.

I sat down on a chair. Reaching down I unzipped the pocket to my duffel bag and began to rummage around for the plastic prescription bottle. Pulling it out, I looked around briefly and unscrewed the cap quickly. I rarely get panic attacks. Maybe a few times a year if that. And I usually don't even bother taking anything for them, but I always carried around my prescription just in case. This was fast becoming one of those times that I actually needed it.