Prayer Part One

We Said A Prayer To the Gods.

Tears fall from my freezing face in my astronaut helmet. The Northern Lights above pass by like waves. Red with green passes by on one side, and the other blue with purple. I'm surrounded by an icy wasteland, nothing ahead or behind me. The planet is a frozen wasteland. There are no cities, buildings, or any form of society. Just I left to wander through this frozen wonderland. Underneath the surface, creatures like this poor beast roam the planet. I pull the beast by a rope towards the shuttle. The beast takes up all my strength. The beast leaves behind a purple trail of blood. Remorse begins to infect my soul. Wandering forces the tough actions needed for survival.

The AI assistant breaks my daydream, speaking over the comms, “Colonial McGuire has an incoming message, Captain.” Dale is keeping the shuttle ready for my return. “Dale, start running diagnostics; it’s time to go home,” I reply over the comms. A little surprised that my shy voice works. Or by now Dale is used to the quietness of my voice. I let my mind wander off again. To avoid the discomforting thoughts of going home. With this job your mind can wander through thoughts at ease. All you can do with this job is think. Think with deceivingly peaceful deep thoughts. Thoughts of the universe and theories that you would like to try. Or the hate that you have for something. But then the unwanted memories morph into intrusive thoughts. I try to concentrate on the ground below.

As the ground glows dark blue beneath the moon's eerie light. This beautiful transformation is orchestrated by the atmosphere, loaded with Zendrite particles, renowned for their ability to scatter blue light more intensely than any other. The air also carries a significant amount of methane, about, 14% by volume. It is nearly at the threshold where it could ignite with the shuttle’s thrusters. A potential for atmospheric ignition that I must remain cautious of. Above the moon casts a subtle purple glow, due to its Purpolium mineral content. Combined they create this captivating spectacle. Transforming the ground into a canvas of deep blue. I gaze at the planet with love in my heart and tears falling from my eyes.

By the gods, I do not want to go back. As the atmospheric pressure is starting to penetrate my protective vest. Each moment grows more critical in time. This beast is so damn heavy. It’s a shame that all this meat will go to waste. At home, they would hang it to drain all the blood. Then the bones would be separated into sections: the Brisket, Ribs, Loins, and so forth. Each cut would be wrapped and marked for sale. The hide would be treated for leather, and even the fat would be rendered down for cooking. Nothing is wasted, everything will be used. Except the person who bought it would waste it. After wasting an hour of time for currency they would waste something that had life. Not realizing the entire process of how it is made. Humans will trash an animal simply because it was cooked wrong. All because they are too lazy to do it themselves. Home disgusts me with all of the capitalism. “Captain, the Colonial is being persistent, in his pursuit to make contact with you.” Dale interrupts the pessimistic thoughts in my head. Ignoring him I think of back home, watching the people pass at the airport terminals. Sitting there with despair in my blue eyes. Thinking of the times I was out in this free land. Wishing I could stay here forever yet I must go back.

The Blackbird shuttle is now only thirty feet away. Modeled after the creator's favorite air fighter, the SR-71 stealth plane. The shuttle is barely visible hidden in the snowfall. Snow rushes on my visor as I continue the path back home. The shuttle has always been my home. Dale interrupts my peace and prosperity, “Captain, the beryllium belt on the shuttle has a significant 10-inch crack.” I knew I heard the reactor cracking on entry. That isn’t good, if that crack goes over 20 inches. I believe that marks the end for the fusion reactor. “Thought the atmospheric pressure may have been to high on entry. I heard the reactor cracking.” I answered him. Crystallized rain is slowly starting to fall. So many wonders out here. Every planet has amazingly different characteristics. The planet's gravity is so harsh here at times. A purple crystal breaks in front of my feet, scattering in shards across the snowy ground. Thoughts of dread continue to invade my mind. I’m unmotivated to go home and face everything. It isn’t even a home to me and should be called something different. Dale's voice comes through the comm system, his tone is one of urgency. "Captain, the current PSI threshold is at 500. We won't be able to reach the necessary speed for exit."

I can tell Dale has turned on his subtext feature. Before unzipping the shuttle's tarp, I take one last glance at the plains. As light purple ice crystals begin to fall. The shards break into tiny jewels that would be extremely valuable back home. I enjoy the view of an unconquered planet. The emptiness of the plains, hills and waterscapes. It’s a shame if I reported this planet habitable. This would all go away and be destroyed tomorrow.

"Dale, you know I'll weld it down to eight" I said before pausing briefly. "And I'm already thinking of a plan." I take a knife and slash my hand open. Letting the wind take my blood if Command ever knew that I still follow the old way. I would be sentenced to death. “We said a prayer to the gods, and they answered.” After I pull the beast in, I slash the mother open as her offspring spilled out stillborn. My legs collapse beneath me in guilt. Tears roll from my eyes as I look at the stillborn creatures.

McGuire invades my time of grief, "Captain, can you hear me?" Now it is time to go back home. " I copy, Colonial," answering back to what feels like a death sentence. "Captain Aster, good evening!" Colonial McGuire continues with the usual speech. "Mission exploration of Kepler-48 has been deemed complete by Star Command. The mission expectations were met in greater detail than expected. For that reason I’d like to thank you at this time." He takes a deep breath. As I begin cooking the meat. "Expectations are that you will be back on Ego in 48 days." His voice is firm as I begin frying the food. " Failure to do so implies immediate termination, loss of pension, and possible jail time. Unless there is significant mechanical damage." By the gods, I’m going to miss the peace and quiet. After putting the Colonial on mute. The beast makes an amazing steak. A quality meal that would cost 40 dollars back home. They wonder why it’s so hard for us to come back. "Colonial, I would like to report that there is significant mechanical damage." He immediately gets defensive. As he hasn’t learned any listening skills.

Before I begin talking. He quickly interrupts, “Can you fix it?”. He doesn’t even know what’s wrong yet. “I probably can.” I will reply sharply. “Can you update me on the situation?” Internally I plead, “Can you let me finish talking?” “Colonial, please let me finish. The beryllium belt on the reactor suffered a serious ten-inch crack.” He talks over me, “What is beryllium?” With all the volume I can muster I explain. “Colonial, beryllium is the metal used in the fusion coil. It has a low atomic mass number of 4. Which helps process and contain the necessary heat in the shuttle's reaction system.” He’s so overbearing as he interrupts. “I don’t need a fucking science lesson.” Evidently you do Colonial, I think to myself. After I nod, he waits impatiently for the rest of my plan.

"Colonial, in order to do this, I will need to take four laps around Kepler-48. Protocol demands that shuttles should enter and exit separately. However, while one reactor is at 80% damage, the other reactor has taken significant damage." I explain. The Colonial looking overworked in his old age. Listens as I continue, "The idea is to weld the two shuttles tow hitches together. In order to take the workload off on of the fusion reactors. I cannot take one shuttle home without the other. As the hydro chambers are on one and food is on the other. Colonial, will you accommodate this request?" Taking a deep breath. The Colonial thinks for a moment before responding, "I’ll let Star Command know and start assembling rescue teams just in case." My hand goes up quickly before he turns off the comms. "Colonial there will be no need. If I fail the reactors will cause atmospheric ignition to the planet." He mutters, "By the gods." under his breath. Typical of my species, angry that they made something cheap, angry at their own ignorance.

Out of all the planets in the universe. Home is the one planet I do not want to go to. Why can’t they let me stay here? Maybe I get lucky and the reactor explodes. Which would cause an atmospheric ignition, that would be a sight to see. It would cause a chain reaction of particles in space. Yet I choose not to give in to the thoughts of suicide. As there is other planets to attend to. There's so much life out there waiting to be discovered. When I get home, I will become a lab rat. Sleeping in a basement and watched like a Zoo animal. Then I will be thrown out into the public eye. For media trips with those pupil-shattering stage lights. This is why I am choosing a lie. I made a promise to always be truthful, but I wasn’t.

It’s freezing even with the suit on. The sun is a dark green shadow, staring above me. The ground has turned pink. Now that both shuttles are exactly five feet apart. I start welding the shuttle hitches, hoping that the high levels of gas on this planet doesn’t blow me up. The flame is bright green as it reflects off my helmet. “Dale let me get thresholds.” I demand over the comms. Dale wastes little time in his reply, “Captain, the PSI threshold is 300 under 98,000 feet at a 45-degree angle. The speed threshold on the climb will be 1,365.61 MPH at a climb of 30 degrees. while PSI threshold will be 400.” Now I need to hide my real thoughts. The thoughts of doubt start running through my head. I’m going to die, and there’s no leaving this world. “Dale, we will run out of fuel before we reach the atmosphere. Hopefully, I can use the wind to get us off this mountain.” It’s so cold that my voice cracks. We can’t do a normal inverted takeoff with the trailer hitch. Panic starts rushing through my brain from one side to the other. What if the fusion draft lines don’t work? I will need to gain enough speed to use those draft lines to increase our velocity in orbit. This will take the pressure off the main reactor, just enough speed to make draft line 48. Pull it together, Charles! Time is ticking, and there is no time for caution. I cannot allow myself to be distracted and undisciplined. “Dale, once we hit 25% of fuel left, we’re going to switch to fusion. After that, we will split the two laps. For two laps, we will use the fusion lines at draft speed.” He stays silent on the comms.

I started to wonder how the great creators found draft lines. It took them many years, I know that. But it’s a fascinating find because we don’t know what a draft line is. I run a diagnostic on the clamper below the shuttle. The clamper is a magnificent invention, and I’ve loved it ever since I was a kid, ever since I was left alone in the darkness with nothing but small blue lights just enough to read the shuttle's manual. Draft lines are believed to be a mix of light and dark energy. The energy shoots up through the shuttle and into the engine. Allowing the shuttle to travel right at the speed of light. That’s why it’s important to check the clamper, even though I’m losing time. For the first time, green sunlight starts to appear. Underneath my feet, the icy surface is beginning to melt as the visor starts to indicate that properties and high methane levels are changing. I don’t want to go home Kepler-48, please don’t make me feel awful for leaving. “Dale, you will have to autopilot the other shuttle. Do you think you can do that?” I believe in you, Dale, but I have a feeling that you don’t want to go home either. Living in darkness and death until the next mission. “I will do my best, Captain, but I have some concerns.” Now is not the time for any concerns, “For one Captain, if we go lower than the speed needed, the gravity pressures will send us into a spin. If we go higher than the speed threshold, the reactor could shatter. Causing the planet to ignite, even if we are orbiting.” I understand his concerns, frankly I’m concerned about them as well, “Dale, it will be fine.”

Home to me is this cockpit. These controls and the numbers on the visor. Dale comes in and out on the comms like a loyal dog. The vantage point of space and these incredible planets. Even now, with these icy mountains changing from purple to green. The planet was hard on the inside but it didn’t want to be left alone. However, for its own safety, there was no life here. For its own safety, I will leave this planet alone. To protect this planet, I must leave it. The wind flaps are activated with a small green button. “We said a prayer to the gods.” The engines begin to fire up on the Blackbird. A few blue tears drop from my eyes. A wave of hope enters my soul. Hope that this engine will not ignite the planet's high hydrogen and methane levels. “The gods gave us fire, and we created civilization,” I mutter, as my lips start the prayer. “In our starvation, we said a prayer to the gods.” I see cold air in front of my face. “And they answered.” Wind begins to catch the flaps on the shuttle as my fingers wrap around the thruster. My foot goes on the pedal and my left hand on the pilot stick.

Even at this stage in my career, my stomach drops. I give the throttle one good push. My head kicks back, and it’s enough to stop the spin. The thrusters are enough to put is at a 45 degree angle. Which now the 131,234-foot climb begins. It’s time for my next trick, called atmospheric exist. There’s too much atmospheric pressure, I can already feel the high air pressure. My foot slams the pedal harder. Speed starts to climb on the visor. “Dale, we have much more atmospheric pressure than we originally thought.” Dale remains silent, but he comes with a big push! Luckily for us, the cord holding us is more like a cable, flexible enough for another shuttle to bring kinetic energy. Orange plasma begins surrounding the cockpit as our altitude increases to 2,000 feet. I remember when I was a kid, watching the old stock cars race. I was always fascinated on how the cars were designed to use air for speed. How they would be able to bump draft each other. In order to speed up and now I am glad I watched cars go into a circle.

The beryllium belt crack must have increased by ten inches. We're at 120,000 feet, “I answered their prayers, accepting my fate and duty.” The prayer still slips from my lips. The nose is hardly visible through the plasma. As it warms me up, I realize there are no autopilot capabilities and no time for a break. If we break, we head back down because the planet’s gravity is too high. However, the plasma is getting thicker by the second. I push the throttle to the max as the shield starts to shatter ahead of me. As my chest feels like, it’s pushing my ribs through my skin. The mask we are required to wear continues cracking. Dale comes with another push of kinetic energy. Endless darkness starts to become visible through the plasma. Stomach acid wants to journey through my stomach. The darkness comes closer and it looks possible. With one more push, there’s no more pressure. Nothing is holding us down anymore. We are free to go.

The planet has a circumference of 508,385,568 feet, divided by the initial speed at V, which is 15,000 mph. This means the first lap at minimum is going to be 9 hours. Looking down I can barely see the planet, I was calling home. A planet that I could regret leaving when it is all said and done. I loved the planet and it was a suitable home. Now we are home but the danger continues to loom. Even though this planet is absolutely astonishing. A lonesome giant white snowball, that lurks in the middle of darkness.

From this vantage point, the ice titan has become furious. Purple storm clouds have surrounded the planet. The white glare almost overcomes my visibility. After catching my breath, it is time to start our escape. “Dale, the first part worked. Now let's see if the second part will.” The clamper will help take the pressure off the fusion reactor. If this works, we might not have to use the fusion reactor when going on the draft line. I am captivated only for a moment at the purple moon in front of me. “Dale, let’s start the orbit before we come crashing down to reality.” Even at this distance, the planet can still ignite.

His thrusters start to power up behind me as my thrusters start to power up. “On my mark, Dale.” The visor has reset itself to zero PSI. The altitude reads 150,000 feet. “Dale, we're going to stay at 0-10 degrees and 145,000-150,000 feet. If we go over, we either flip into a spin or we go back down.” Dale acknowledges with a display with the lights. About time I got him to answer me. My hand starts to push on the throttle followed by my foot. Dale releases; he doesn’t shy away from his push, which causes a possible concussion from the impact. The shuttle engines have a bit of trouble restarting. Eventually, the thrusters start to fire, breaking through the ice that must have frozen them. Speed on the visor begins to climb. The speed needed is 15,000 and possibly more. If I go higher, the fusion cracks and everything blows. So be careful Charles, may the gods be with me.

Speed has quickly jumped up to 3,000 mph as my hand pushes hard on the throttle. These next nine hours will be hell. The mark starts as we pass the purple rock. Plasma surrounds the nose as the red lights start to blare. I can hear the beryllium belt cracking behind me. The clouds raging on the Kepler are barely visible. “Captain, I’m afraid we won’t gain enough speed,” Dale says, fear evident in his voice. My biceps are strained after two hours, and I can feel them wanting to rip. But I must keep this shuttle at 20 degrees. The planet's gravity has increased, causing the PSI to rise higher than expected. A big push comes from Dale. My head jerks back as I hear the belt cracking. “It will hold Dale.” I tell a lie. The shuttle drops down to 11 degrees and starts heading towards the planet. The visor cracks as I pull up, avoiding a disaster. From this altitude, we won’t survive re-entry. Speed is at 15,000 mph. Dale gives a big push, and the visor in front begins cracking. This first lap isn’t looking promising. My arm feels like a bear is trying to rip it off. Purple light begins to glow on the visor. Now I know we are so close to hitting our mark. A sudden thrash! Now the shuttle is at a tilt. Red lights begin surrounding me. The alarm begins to blare side to side. There’s no time for panic. “Captain, we hit our mark.” Dale comes across the comms. Nine hours flew by fast at the thought of death. As I realign the shuttle. Taking a deep breath and relaxing for a moment.

The clamper underneath opens and attaches to the draft line. The alignment rocks my head hard and just about knocks me out. The PSI balance is at 150. “Sorry, Captain, I figured you cannot see.” Dale is right, everything is blurry now. I think I might have a concussion now. As sight comes back slowly. There’s about a few centimeters crack on the shuttle’s visor in front of me. With us using a draft line, the plasma has decreased. Dale has already started the second lap. Our starting speed is at 20,000 mph. We distance ourselves from the purple moon. It slowly disappears into darkness. Three hours are going to pass by fast. I changed out my oxygen mask. The gravity below has increased by six PSI. The speed is now up to 40,000 mph. Looking out the visor, the Kepler’s clouds start to clear. The white lights get brighter, but I start to see a gigantic purple ocean in the middle of the Titan. The shuttle violently shakes on the draft line. Which sends my muscles into a quick shock. We maintain a steady speed of 40,000 mph. Now it’s time to get back to work.

I release the clamper and start setting down another draft line. Keeping this next draft line close to the first. To get more energy, which starts to cause damage on the right wing. PSI starts increasing as we drop in altitude for this one. Now we must remain at 140,000 feet to pick up more speed. It’s 480 miles to the next draft line. I will need enough energy to drift into the next draft line. As my bicep locks up tight, Here comes Dale with another big push. The energy is just about to rip my arm off. Red lights start to flash in front of my eyes. Our speed is now up to 18,000 mph. The shuttle shakes violently, and I fear I may lose control and drop it. If I even drop one degree in these eight hours, we will be doomed. The force pushes the nose down as Dale gives another push. I pull up, getting us out of the danger zone. But quickly it begins dipping again, and I pull with all my strength. Everything is blurry as my head jerks back again from Dale's push. PSI is now raised to 480, and my rib has cracked. Blood is leaking from my mask. I push the throttle harder, pulling to keep the shuttle level. I owe this planet my gratitude; I owe it the opportunity to thrive and evolve. Dale comes with a more consistent push and balances the PSI. “Open!” I shout over the communications system.

Against the gravity pressure and with full strength, I get the shuttle to 25 degrees. The shuttle rattles as the clamper begins to attach. Now the bicep has popped off the bone. I want to scream so badly in agony. A Prayer starts to come from my lips. “The gods blessed me with a duty,” I whisper to no one except the gods. “Attach!” A violent rattle, and now the shuttle has attached. Everything is blurry with the numbers duplicated. Orange plasma surrounds the visor again. Barely visible in the rearview, the gigantic purple moon sits still. Down below, the planet is slowly becoming more green. Life will exist here someday.

I will be its god, and there is no purpose for their lives. The best thing I can do for them is sacrifice myself. They will wonder about where they came from, fight wars over who they are, and be lied to. Everything I hate about home is something they will become. I should stay and show them a better path, but I must leave them for my duty. This must be how a god feels to continue their duty, leaving their greatest creations behind. “We said a prayer to the gods, and they answered.” Kepler-48 continues terraforming as the lights follow me in orbit, as if the titan were saying thank you. I turn the shuttle's degrees to 45. “Release.” The clamper rattles, and now, with enough momentum, we begin drifting at high speed.

The light starts to become a glimmer. Darkness surrounds the cockpit as the plasma disappears. We made it in the span of 24 hours. 24 hours back home would consist of work, eating, TV, and sleep. But out here, it is a fight for survival. It is the amazing sight of life itself coming to life. “The gods have blessed me with a duty.” The sound disappears as the darkness increases. Eventually one last rattle. As I head back to my purgatory. “The gods have chosen to show mercy.” I fall onto the floor, my arms numb. Blood spills from my mouth as I look back into the void of space.

“We said a prayer to the gods. In our cries of hunger, we begged them for mercy. In our cries of hunger, we sent out a prayer. Our cries of despair were heard, and the gods answered. Their judgment was mercy on the human race. As once the gods gave us fire, they gave us the draft lines with a duty. A duty to explore the galaxy, to preserve the human race, and to find new life. I made the gods and Star Command a promise. I have accepted my duty.” – Captain Charles Aster.

Badger Digital Productions. ™

07/26/24

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