Swirling Black

“T-minus ten seconds…”

So many memories, so many feelings now come flooding in all at once, each one imbued with its own emotions.

The hum of a motor.

“Don’t be too hasty. Hands on the wheel at all times.”

The drone of a propeller.

“Keep the nose on the centerline, that’s what’s important.”

The whirr of several huge fan blades.

“V1… rotate.”

The thunder of an explosive chorus…

“…2…1… Ignition…“

The detonation that progresses eerily felt similar to the one that annihilated. In that moment, I believed there was still a way to move forward; to overcome the complete end of Earth itself.

But the time was not right to reminisce about these things.

“Clock running,” I said, despite being crushed by invisible forces into my seat.

A voice crackles within my helmet, “Roger.”

Then, a few more seconds, as the screen in front of me lights up, and the marble-like gymbal consequently shifts, “Roll action.”

“Roger, roll action… visible.”

Immediately, I felt the capsule spin slightly, then slowly pitch right, towards the east. I saw the moon pass by the small window above my head.

“Tilt and pitch action.”

“Tilt and pitch action, roger, visible.”

A few more grumbles of metal and frantic vibration filled the otherwise silent capsule. I momentarily glance to my left, where another pilot is seated, Vyosi Lekker. He also looked as tense as I was, if not a little bit better. Darkly, I wished he weren’t.

I returned my focus onto the screens and physical gauges in front of me, the dashboard a mix of analog and digital, the cool modern and the reliable old.

After a few moments, a notification pops up on the large screen.

“Echo Bravo.”

No answer, which is usual for this particular callout.

Again, my mind drifted to a distant memory.

“Positive climb.”

“Gear up.”

I pulled the lever and pushed it up with deliberate strength, and a weak but comforting thud and vibrations followed.

“Gear up.”

“Flaps one.”

I followed

“Flaps one.”

Suddenly, the cockpit and the entire fuselage shook violently, as if a sudden windshear with an accompanying tailwind had hit us. My eyes squinted at the bright light, our shadows lengthening forward. Somehow, this new sun was blinding us from behind. Before I went blind, I saw the clouds and the air waver and leave.

“What the—”

Something in my chest rumbled, along with my legs, which slithered throughout my body. I felt the flight stick fighting against me, the aircraft rebelling. Then, a violent, almost shrieking boom deafened my ears, overwhelming all my senses at once——all the blaring alarms uncannily eerily silent. I could not care less about my copilot, but he was feeling the same.

A soft voice entered my mind, “Greg.”

My eyes stared, but unfocused on the displays.

Again, the voice called out, a bit more urgent this time, “Greg.”

The ground grew into view. I instinctively pulled the stick with all my might.

A static radio noise mimicked a voice, “Green minute, proceed to two.”

I shook my head, and the scene changed in front of me.

“Er, roger.” I struggled to look at my copilot. “Did you call for me?”

“You were doing the thing again,” Vyo replied, without even looking at me, busy with fighting his own demons. Yet, still, he smirked.

“Thanks,” I nodded meekly. Too annoying.

I felt the spacecraft strain, reaching its limit or breaking its potential. Either way, the power it exudes comforted and frightened me. Each second reminded me of that day. Then, finally, the sensation I was looking for——sound being silenced, except for the piercing, howling wind, and the vibrations of loose accessories in the cockpit, which all but intensified. It was a surreal feeling, having overtaken sound itself.

“Echo Charlie,” my voice quavered.

“Green two minutes, proceed to three.”

Returning to my composure, I cleared my throat, “Roger.”

I await alertly for a few seconds that the few months of training have prepared me for.

“Green for staging.”

Then, I saw outside the small window, flames being overtaken, almost engulfing. My vision rattled. It felt like my eyes were being shaken inside their sockets——it was almost painful. “MET-D.” Gradually, I felt the choking pressure release my body, and I could shift my body for the first time since takeoff. The quaking also subsided.

A few seconds of silence, then “MET-D visible and confirmed.” That fact is also confirmed by looking at the cockpit’s indicators.

The pressure pushed me back into my seat gradually, this time softer. The bleak, red atmosphere thins, transitioning into the twinkling black. The moon was barely visible behind the window frame. For the first time, I took a deep breath. I was more relieved to see the infinite black rather than the atmosphere of my ruined home. The blue was now a mere memory.

“Green three minutes, proceed to four.” 

...

“Approaching MECO,” the radio within my helmet said.

“Roger… and MECO.”

This time, I was pulled out of my seat, but thank the seatbelts.

“Green for staging.”

“Staging.” 

A confidence-building bang reverberated the metal walls.

“Good sep, SE-I warm… green.”

“I-stage sep.” 

Another weaker bang resounded.

“Good sep. SE green.”

“SE-I hot.” I eyed the engine information display. “Ignition.” Then, a softer acceleration gently pushed me back into my seat.

“Thrust green, trajectory nominal.”

“Copy, trajectory nominal.”

A few seconds later…

“Green four, proceed to five.”

“Copy… Echo Delta.”

“Damn, we are fast!” Vyo exclaimed.

“Years of spaceflight,” I added. “Only to… you know,” I sighed.

Vyo weakly nodded.

Then, a moment of radio silence.

“Green five, proceed to six.” Then, they follow up a few seconds later. “Predicting SECO at nine plus thirty-six.”

“Copy,”

…

“Green six, proceed to seven.”

“Mode efficiency.” A subtle change in acceleration, but nothing noteworthy.

“Roger.”

…

“Green seven, proceed to eight.”

…

“Green eight, proceed to nine. Trajectory nominal.”

“Copy, trajectory nominal.”

…

“Green nine, proceed to ten.”

The exhilarating acceleration and vibrations stopped, and for the first time, I felt microgravity. Despite the similarities, it was still unlike the water simulation trainings I’ve been in. 

“SECO.”

“Green for staging.”

“Staging.” 

Another bang, but this time, closer but smaller sounding than the last staging reverberated.

“Good sep… TE-I warm and green.”

“Ignition.” 

This time, the acceleration felt more like a car.

“Green thrust.”

“You’re green for insertion.”

“Roger. Echo Echo.”

…

“Green ten, proceed to eleven. Cutoff at twelve plus seven. LOS imminent.” 
The controller cleared his throat, his voice taking a more somber tone. “Tell them, ‘we’ll hold the light for you, Lowlight.’ 3-6, ocean’s blue.”

“Copy, cutoff at twelve plus seven. Thank you for your service, Pale Ground, the pale blue dot,” I replied in equal respect.

“Greg,” Vyo called out and pointed at a gauge, his voice rising, “Oxidizer dropping.”

I immediately look at the screen and navigate to the fuel systems page. I knew I had to report before we lost communications.

“Pale Ground, this is 3-6, leak on our—”

Suddenly, we were thrown sharply, and we could barely keep our heads tight. Then, outside the window, the stars ran by, and the miserable red earth briefly showed its face, and some white fragments moved like snow away from our ship. We were spinning, and so was my mind. And the radio chatter and alarms didn’t help.

Both of us tried to grab our control sticks instantly, but the spin fought against us. My vision shrinking, my breath stopping. Still, I clenched my jaw and gritted my teeth as I pushed all my strength into reaching out for the stick. I felt my fingers brush against it, until I brutally surged my body forward to grab it. I closed my eyes, unable to tolerate the revolutions, and I felt myself…
...just let go…

I was awakened by a blaring alarm. It was nothing like my digital alarm clock. It was the sound I was trained to fear when I heard it. My eyes instantly open to see instances of red on the displays. I looked at Vyo, and he was desperately punching, reaching for the controls. I still felt my world spinning, but it was not just mine.

I barely looked up at the window to see flames engulfing it, as the view spun from black to red, as if it was not orange enough already.

“Vyo,” I groaned, “Booster sep—”

“Done!” He interrupted, infuriatingly spitting against his helmet, “Be of great help and jettison!”

This time, I found the strength and pressed the button Vyo was struggling to reach, and the sudden thud lurches us out of our seats for a moment, but the spinning only worsened.

“ARGH! I almost stopped the spin before!” Vyo shouted.

I looked at the screen and saw we were free-falling back to the earth. I powered through the forces once again, determined not to fall asleep this time, and grabbed the stick with both my hands. “Stabilize!”

It was futile.

…

Is this what people see before death? During death? A frozen image before their spectacular surrender into nothingness? I was able to look around, my friend’s twisted face, his clenched gloves, the fiery backdrop, the displays’ red flags, but not feel the heat, the hopelessness. I only sensed relief, even if I could not breathe. I tried to breathe, but it was suffocating. I looked up at the windows…

Twinkling stars… against the swirling black.