Antiquated Astronaut

By Michael Cole

Due to a freakish anomaly that takes place in the far reaches of
space, astronaut Rory Colt ends up back on Earth five hundred years
into the future.

But the world as he knew it no longer exists. In its
place are two dissimilar civilizations. In one society a cyber world
of self-gratification provides its occupants with electromechanical
enhancements, while the other is comprised of people who emulate life
as it was lived in the nineteenth century.

When a beautiful woman hybrid lures Rory into her futuristic world, he soon discovers they
are being manipulated by an omniscient, electronic immortal who has
ensnared them into a terrifying web of betrayal and deceit. To free
the new world from the monster's clutches, he must destroy him.

But how does one destroy a creature who lives in cyberspace?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Foremost Press
• Release date: Mar 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781939870100

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Cosmos is all that is or ever was or ever will be. Our feeblest contemplations of the cosmos stir us—there is a tingling in the spine, a catch in the voice, a faint sensation of a distant memory, as if we were falling from a great height. We know we are approaching the greatest of mysteries.

—Carl Sagan

Seventy-eight hours! For better or for worse, Rory Colt’s life would change in just seventy-eight hours.

Either he would return from space as a national hero, or he wouldn’t return at all. Oh well, if I don’t make it back in one piece, at least I won’t become fodder for the worms. I’ll be out there somewhere in the Universe drifting for all of eternity.

Rory had undergone rigorous training with three other astronauts knowing that only one of the four of them would be selected for the mission. It had been no surprise when NASA chose Nick Rawlings, an astronaut with more experience, over him. Then, fate had dealt Nick a low blow. With less than twelve days to liftoff, he suddenly and inexplicably experienced acute stomach cramps. Even though the doctors couldn’t find a thing wrong, and Nick had quickly recovered, NASA made the decision to send Rory instead.

His regimen would start in earnest just hours from now. Not only would the doctors be probing him with needles, but they would also attach a plastic tube in his rectum. They claimed the tube would only bother him when he had to walk, and he wasn’t planning on doing much of that anytime soon. He laughed inwardly. The piece of plastic in his butt wouldn’t be as bad as the catheter. Once he entered the suspended animation chamber, a good foot of damnable tubing would be inserted through the end of his penis into his bladder. Oh well, how else am I supposed to pee and crap from a space so confined that even a rat would find claustrophobic!

After a three-day quarantine period, Rory would be strapping himself in the command module to embark on the longest spaceflight any human had ever attempted. No one could tell him with one-hundred-percent certainty as to how he would react to the protracted journey. Although he would have the latest and best that technology had to offer as far as equipment was concerned, there were virtually no creature comforts. Weight was a precious commodity and although the engineers had rigged the command module with every conceivable safety feature, there was very little wiggle room. And then, shortly after liftoff, he would be entering the dreaded suspended animation chamber. That’s the part of the flight that bothered him the most. He knew the drill. Hell, he’d practiced it enough times. He would be placed into a drug-induced, semi-comatose state that NASA doctors referred to as twilight sleep. It was a dreamless state of mind where time became nonexistent. Although he knew there were worse things than losing consciousness while traversing the solitude of space, he hated the thought of relinquishing total control for the four and a half months he would have to spend in an unconscious state.

Outwardly, Rory was ready. He had been told that a lot was riding on this venture. If mining asteroids became economically feasible, it wouldn’t take long for the U.S. to pay off its national debt. On the other hand, if the project were to fail, an additional hundred fifty billion dollars would have to be added to an already staggering federal government obligation. He had placed all of his earthly possessions in storage and had made sure his will was in order, not that it mattered much. Both his parents were dead. In fact, the only living relative he had was a distant cousin whom he had only met once. There weren’t even any girlfriends he cared enough to say goodbye to. He thought it rather sad that the only thing he’d be leaving behind that he enjoyed was his carefree lifestyle.

He still had six hours to kill before he officially had to report to the shuttle launch site situated at Luke Air Force Base just outside the desert community of Chandler, Arizona. Rory didn’t particularly want to arrive early, but he also didn’t relish the thought of spending the little time he had left in an empty apartment. He locked the front door, placed the key under the front mat for the landlord, and climbed into his beloved Porsche, which was the only thing he owned, him and the bank. As usual the car started with a growl.

He was almost at the base when he suddenly turned the vehicle around and headed for Last Flight Out, a bar he frequented often. He didn’t know what had induced him to walk into the place. Normally, he’d go there to hustle women, but not tonight. Rory glanced at his watch. He still had five and a half hours before he would be quarantined for the mandatory seventy-two hour preflight medical check-up. He suddenly had the urge to talk to someone, anyone. Perhaps it was because for the better part of ten months, he would be alone. Oh, so alone.

CHAPTER 2

To be the first in the annals of history to accomplish anything of significance would be an event worth memorializing.

—Author unknown

Even for a Thursday night Last Flight Out was packed; a regular meat market is what it was. Normally, he would find a table next to the dance floor, but he didn’t feel much like dancing tonight. Conversation was what he was after. He was halfway to the bar when a blonde with too much makeup tapped him on the shoulder.

Hi, Rory. Remember me?

He remembered her all right. He couldn’t for the life of him think of her name, but it had taken a week to get the smell of the abominable perfume she wore off his clothes.

Hi there, he mumbled. Just stopped in for a quick drink. I’m not planning to stay.

The woman smiled. Want some company tonight?

There were a number of things the woman did well, but a conversationalist she was not.

I’d love some, but no. I have an early flight.

A look of disappointment crossed her face. Some other time maybe?

He was about to say something to her when someone entered her line of vision. She turned away from him and was now talking to a man who was standing in front of her.

Frankie. How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages.

So much for lasting impressions, Rory thought. To think he had been desperate enough to have taken her to bed made him shudder. He rarely had difficulty in scoring. Females flocked to him much like metal does to a magnet. He had a shock full of curly blond hair that was cut slightly above his ears. Some women claimed his fine-chiseled features gave him an aristocratic appearance, but his broad disarming smile and the twinkle in his eye let them know he was approachable. He was also well built. He had a broad chest, his biceps were well formed and so were his legs. This he attributed to his daily regimen. Not only did he make it a practice to work out at the gym, but he also ran five miles a day, something he would miss dearly.

He squeezed into a stool at the end of the bar.

What will it be, space jockey? the bartender asked.

I’ll have the usual, Billy.

The usual consisted of a tonic water and a twist of lime. It looked just like a vodka or gin tonic, but it didn’t give him a hangover. That’s why he rarely drank booze.

What does the patch stand for? a female voice asked.

It’s a question he would often answer. The blue background of a silver spaceship surrounded by stars on his leather flight jacket was hard to miss.

He turned to look at the woman who had apparently walked up to him. His eyes appraised her ever so quickly. She was tall, almost as tall as he, with a full head of chestnut-colored hair. When his eyes gravitated lower, he saw that she had on a stylish pair of designer jeans that hugged her trim-looking legs.

I’m an astronaut, he replied. I never thought I’d regret being one.

Why?

Rory gave up his seat to the woman.

Because I won’t get the chance to know you better.

Oh, where are you going? To the moon?

He flashed her one of his boyish grins.

Don’t I wish. No, it will be a lot farther than that. Rory glanced at his watch. Today is Tuesday. In less than five hours, I have to report to the flight center. Then, if everything goes according to plan, on Friday I’ll be on my way to an asteroid called Ceres.

You’ve got to be putting me on! Why go there?

Rory sighed. It’s a long story, and the last thing I want to do is bore you.

Please, I really would like to know. What do the letters on your patch stand for?

You really don’t want to hear this, at least not without a drink in front of you. What will you have?

A scotch and water. Thank you.

Rory waved the bartender over. Give this lady a Chivas and water. He turned toward her. And your name is?

Adrianne, and yours?

Rory.

Come on, Rory. Don’t keep me in suspense. What does RAPP mean?

It stands for the Robotic Asteroid Prospector Project. Scientists at the National Institute for Advanced Concepts, which is a recently created agency established by Congress, came up with the name.

But why are they sending you . . . to wherever you said they were sending you?

Ceres?

Yes, Ceres. What could possibly be on an asteroid that anyone would want?

Rory took a sip of his drink. Ceres is one of the largest asteroids. The Institute talked Congress into funding the project because it believes Ceres contains twenty trillion dollars’ worth of precious metals, including nickel, titanium, gold and platinum. Once I land on that hunk of rock, my job will be to send a robotic vehicle to collect rock samples off its surface. If, in fact, Ceres does contain precious metals, the next step would be to extract the ore.

Adrianne gave Rory a coy look. So in a way I’m paying for your trip.

Rory noticed that the person to Adrianne’s left had just vacated his seat. He sat down next to her and said, In a manner of speaking.

Adrianne moved closer to Rory, her hand briefly touching the patch on his flight jacket. This is probably a stupid thing to ask, but aren’t you afraid?

Perhaps afraid is too strong a word. Let’s say I’m somewhat apprehensive, even anxious. The most difficult thing about the trip will be the landing. I’ll have to touch down on a flat patch of ground no larger than a greenside bunker. It will be like trying to land a Boeing 747 on an aircraft carrier. Rory hoped this was enough information to impress her. He liked this girl. Perhaps, just perhaps, he would look her up when he got back.

How long will you be gone?

Close to ten months.

Ten months! That’s a long time to be out in space, Adrianne exclaimed.

Rory noticed that she hadn’t wasted any time finishing her drink.

Would you like to have another Chivas and water?

Adrianne slid off the barstool. No, thanks. I’d better be going. Good luck on your flight."

It had been on the tip of his tongue to ask her for her phone number, but then he decided it would be a waste of time. She had probably decided to leave when he told her he’d be gone for such a protracted period of time. Or perhaps she just didn’t want to get tangled up with someone who might never return, not that he could blame her. Whatever the case, it was probably just as well.

He walked out into the parking lot. Before getting into his car, he thought back to the day he had been told he would be going instead of Nick. Ever since the announcement, other than the obligatory photo shoots endorsed by RAPP, he had been literally running from the paparazzi. He now knew why so many celebrities preferred anonymity. Becoming an astronaut in this day and age wasn’t big news. But traveling beyond Mars, navigating the asteroid belt, landing on Ceres, and then returning to Earth—well, that was an entirely different matter. If he succeeded in bringing back those ore samples, and if Ceres did contain rich mineral deposits, maybe the government wouldn’t continue taxing its populace to death. There was so much riding on the project that Rory had not had a good night’s sleep since he had been chosen. He couldn’t count the number of times he woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. What if he were to fail? Hell, what if something went wrong, and he died on a hunk of rock about the size of Texas?

Before he had been told that he would be the one going to Ceres, he had reveled in the prestige of knowing he was one of only four people known to the world who was training for such a long and arduous journey. However, since RAPP informed him that he’d be the one to go, there had been times that he had been riddled with apprehension and self-doubt. He didn’t think of himself as a coward, but he had lied to Adrianne. He was afraid. Afraid? Hell, he was petrified!

At twenty-eight, Rory was in his prime. He could do a hundred pushups effortlessly. He knew he was physically fit for the mission, but the big question would be, could he handle the flight mentally? Obviously the psychiatrists thought so. But then none of them had a frame of reference. This was because no human being had ever been alone in space, not for ten months.

He looked up at the heavens. The rain from the previous day had swept away the smog. The stars, nothing but small specks of light, shone brightly in the dark, cloudless sky. It was hard to believe that soon he would be among them on a ship that would be hurtling him millions of miles from Earth.

All he could think of now was the mission; it loomed before him like some gargantuan shadow.

I now know how a condemned man must feel when he only has three days left to spend on Earth.

CHAPTER 3

Everything is relative. A rocket traveling through space would reach the moon in about as much time as it would take for a slug to traverse a tenth of a mile of highway. Although the distances are dissimilar, the effort to accomplish either task would be about the same.

—Author unknown

Rory woke up in a cold sweat. When he glanced at the clock, he realized that in just three more hours, he would be leaving Earth. During his period of internment, the only people he had come in contact with were NASA scientists and the doctors, of course. NASA routinely required that astronauts receive a last-minute medical checkup. It stood to reason that the government wasn’t going to entrust a space mission that cost billions to someone who wasn’t physically fit. He was placed in a motion simulator that duplicates the G forces an astronaut experiences during liftoff. It tricks the mind into thinking it is experiencing changes in velocity and acceleration. It was a mechanism he was quite familiar with. The monitor conveyed changes in his heart rate, breathing regularity and blood pressure to a physician who was observing the effect that the false gravitational force was having on his body. As if that wasn’t enough, the doctors had him run a treadmill at which time they checked and rechecked his pulse rate and blood pressure. He was given yet another EKG. A brain scan, and an MRI followed. Like some guinea pig, he was stuck with needles, poked, and prodded. It got to the point that he swore if another doctor or nurse came in the room he would scream.

Rory kept replaying in his mind what was about to happen. He had been highly trained for the mission, but he couldn’t rid himself of the fear of flying off into uncharted territory. He would be the first to venture that far out into space. He took a deep breath. No more dwelling on the danger, of dwelling on the possibility that he might never return from this mission.

Think of the glory. Think of the fame, he kept telling himself. He had rehearsed for this trip more times than he could remember. Just do what you’ve been trained to do. Follow your instincts, and you’ll be okay.

His heart went to his throat when he saw the ship in the predawn light. He had passed it at least once a day ever since it had been hauled in by truck and assembled. But today it looked spectacular, surrounded by a specter of lights. They bathed its sleek fuselage and needle-like nose in such a way as to give it an unworldly appearance. RAPP had named it Centaurus, possibly because the ship was aligned toward the constellation of Centaurus where Alpha Centauri, the brightest and closest star to earth, could be seen with the naked eye.

Centaurus was not only the most sophisticated vessel, but it was also the largest spaceship ever built. This was because its payload was huge. It consisted of two cylindrical sections. The one closest to the ground would release automatically once the rocket left Earth’s gravitational pull. Its hydrazine depleted, it would circle the Earth along with a multitude of other space junk. Eventually, its orbit would decay, and it would burn up upon reentry. The speculation was that a few particles the size of a speck of dust might reach the ground, but ninety-nine-and-nine-tenths percent of the six-ton shell would disintegrate in the Earth’s atmosphere.

Like a leech, the module itself was connected to the second cylinder. The cylinder, which also contained the highly corrosive fuel, would enable Rory to not only land on Ceres, but it would also provide him with the required fuel to leave the asteroid’s gravitational pull. Once he was in space heading home, it, too, would release from the command module. He would then fly the module itself back to Earth. If everything went according to plan, he would reenter the Earth’s atmosphere and fly the ship much like a jet plane to what he hoped would be a safe landing nine months, three weeks and two days from today.

Not only was Rory greeted by a group of scientists from RAPP, but there were some top brass there from NASA as well, not to mention the press. He smiled when he saw Nick, glad that he had come to see him off.

Nick shook Rory’s hand. You are on the verge of making history, my friend.

I hope you’re right, Rory replied. Right before he approached an elevator that would whisk him to the command module, a newswoman cornered him. When he looked past her, he saw the television camera.

"Any last minute thoughts before you board Centaurus?" she asked.

He didn’t dare tell what he was thinking to the millions who’d be watching the newscast. Instead, he repeated what he had been coached to say, Just that I want to thank RAPP for giving me this opportunity. I’m looking forward to the trip, and also to the success of the mission.

Rory took one last look at the crowd before stepping inside the elevator that would take him five stories aboveground. Once he was inside the command module, the ground took on an entirely different perspective. From his vantage point, far below him, he watched the trucks fill the rocket with fuel. The crowd appeared insignificant.

He strapped himself inside the module and began the process of completing the perfunctory instrumentation check. Although he was so familiar with the procedure that he could have done it in his sleep, he took his time because he knew that this check was anything but routine. His life would literally depend on thousands upon thousands of electrical circuits, breaker switches, valves, clamps, and hoses. If just one of them were to malfunction, he could end up being a cadaver in space.

He took one final look at several dozen gauges.

All systems are working, he said into his space helmet to ground control barely above a whisper. The countdown began as soon as he completed his preflight check. All actions from here forward regarding the launch had been automatically programmed, although RAPP could abort the mission if it chose to do so.

Roger, replied a nameless voice. We are three minutes from liftoff.

Two minutes prior to liftoff, the launch director issued the final launch command. The second the propellant tanks were pressurized, the first stage of the rocket would ignite. That’s when the final seconds of the countdown would commence. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . six . . . five . . .

A voice from ground control was counting off the remaining seconds, but Rory was no longer listening. He knew that as soon as the countdown was complete, the onboard computer would send a signal for the launch mounts to release. A second later, the thrust from the first-stage rocket engines would put the ship into motion. The moment he had trained for had finally arrived!

Liftoff! Once Rory heard the word, he knew he was on his way. In less than what seemed like a blink of an eye, he was surrounded by the vastness of space, a black void interspersed with millions upon millions of stars. Unlike when viewed from Earth, they appeared brighter and closer, yet most couldn’t be reached in a thousand lifetimes. In the command module’s mirrors, he could see the eerie shine of his gold-colored space suit, incandescently illuminated in a celestial glow. As his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness of the cockpit, he realized that the brilliance before him was the broad expanse of the Milky Way, now a gleaming stripe across the sky filled with countless sparkling suns. Shooting stars flashed across this heavenly canvass every few seconds. It was like watching a fireworks display with no sound. Despite the fact that he was traveling at a speed approaching thirty-four thousand knots per hour, it seemed like he wasn’t moving at all. Rory was not a religious man, but right here, right now, he felt there had to be a much greater unknown power out there somewhere.

His attention drifted from the surreal beauty of the heavens to the task at hand. The second the rocket’s first stage disengaged from the spacecraft, he began the painstaking job of rechecking the navigational instructions that had been fed earlier into an onboard computer so powerful that it had the ability to perform hundreds of functions simultaneously. This was an integral part of the flight. The instructions, better known as codes, would automatically guide the ship to its destination. If inputted properly, the codes would keep Centaurus on its trajectory.

Downloading the information that controlled the flow of fuel to the rocket’s engines was the tricky part. There had been a lot of debate among RAPP’s scientists as to whether astronauts should be allowed to manually pilot the craft. The controversy had finally been resolved when one of the engineers proved that the margin of error would be far less if a computer were to take on the intricate job of starting and stopping Centaurus’ boosters, and also correcting the gyros that ultimately would keep the ship on its course. The extremely complicated maneuver required nanosecond timing. If Centaurus’ engines were activated a fraction of a second too late, the ship would leave its orbit and Rory would