nik

The guy who has to clean up the holodeck after one of Barclay's sordid fantasy programs.

How about something like "T-Bone" or "The Gooch" Pretty much any name that start with "The" is always good.

Parents can do their kids a huge favor by giving them names that will automatically establish them on a high social rung in Jr. High.

I always felt sorry for the kids with names like "Simon," or "Herbert."

Laying on my back in the command seat of Endeavor, I waited patiently as the countdown clock ticked silently on the center console display in large red digits. The silent humming of the ventilation system pulsed throughout the cabin. Occassional gasps as could be heard as the gaseous oxygen vent released pressure from the large liquid fuel tank attached to the shuttle’s back. Every few minutes, the faint buzzing of a fuel pump could be heard as the auxiliary power units forced pressurized hydrazine fuel into the shuttle’s thruster tanks. After several checks and onboard com checks and environmental checks, things were strangely silent. I checked the countdown clock.

“T minus one minute. Initiating SWS sequence.” Bill’s voice broke the silence. I could hear several valves clicking open throughout the shuttle as the sound water suppression system began engaging. The elaborate system would act at the “shock absorber” of the shuttle during launch as it rained water at 900,000 gallons per minute for the first few seconds after liftoff. The shuttle swayed slightly in the breeze.

“T minus twenty seconds… nineteen…. Eighteen…. Seventeen….sixteen…fifteen…. we copy main ignition start.” The shuttle bucked violently with the rumble of its massive engines beneath me.

“Ten… nine… eight… seven… six…. Five.” I heard several loud pops as the pyrotechnic bolts clamping the shuttle in place gave way.

“…. Go for launch… three… two…. One….. we have liftoff.”

Out the window, I saw the launch tower slip away, and a billow of smoke rose as the shuttle slowly groaned under its weight into the sky.

“Endeavor has cleared the tower.” Bill announced.

“Commencing modified control sequence.” Lenny interrupted. “Endeavor, we are picking up your telemetry… beginning roll maneuver.” I checked the gauges and readouts in front of me as the shuttle began rolling onto its back.

“Positive roll.” I heard over the speaker in my helmet. “Vee-dot nominal…. We are go for max-vee. Endeavor prepare for one-hundred-six percent throttle…. Go for throttle-up.”

Using what I memorized from the manual, I engaged the preset throttle procedure, pushing the shuttle even harder to the fringe of space.

“Endeavor, we do not have positive copy on SRB shutoff. Engage emergency SRB separation sequence.” This would be a really short trip if the solid rocket boosters couldn’t separate from the shuttle.

“Endeavor, we have negative telemetry pickup…. Please confirm SRB separation sequence.” I heard Lenny’s voice pick up in tempo. The roar of the engines began diminishing as the solid rocket boosters ran out of fuel and simply fizzled out.

“Negative vee-dot!” Lenny shouted. “Initiate abort sequence alpha and go-around for touchdown at Huntsville.” In general, if the launch could be aborted early enough, the shuttle could literally fly back and land at a number of strips.

“Negative, Kennedy!” I shouted, “There’s no way we can land if those SRBs are still attached.”

“Eject!” Lenny’s voice screamed into my helmet.

…. The one part of the launch manual I hadn’t memorized…… the one part I refused to use.

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it all to hell!” I said as I removed my helmet and loosened my harness. “Lenny, what the hell happened?” I said agitatedly as I stepped out the seat and moved towards the exit door.

As I opened the exit door and stepped onto the crew access arm, I listened to Lenny over my wireless headset.

“We lost telemetry shortly after clearing the tower. Apparently the modified control sequence didn’t fully switch control to the LC. After that, we had no way of knowing when to initiate the main engines as we had no visual on the SRBs.”

I took the elevator down the gantry along the graceful shuttle as it sat on its pad, my sat-phone rang.

“Yeah….” I answered it agitatedly.

“I heard a lot of shouting, but not much else. What happened?” Foale asked.

“Well…. We’ll probably run that simulation again.” I said. “We’re a little rusty.”

“Just get her off the ground, and make sure you get the OMS burners licked, and we’ll do the rest.” Foal assured me.

Turning off the sat phone, I swore a blue streak as I walked to the Mustang parked beside the pad – making sure to mix hideous vulgar descriptions of female anatomy with colorful assessments of animalistic procreative rituals.

“We didn’t quite copy that last transmission, please retransmit.” I could almost hear the smile in Bill’s voice, and imagined him pushing the record button on his console.

“We’ll try again tomorrow.” I muttered.

After my first successful landing of a 747 at Kennedy, I spent the past few days getting Bill and Lenny caught up on what was going on. The shuttle trawler wasn't quite halfway to pad 39A, so I assigned Bill to drive the remaining distance. At two miles per hour, it would took him half of Saturday to finish. His constant yells of "Yeeeehawww!" as he

"trucked" along in the trawler seemed somewhat out of place. Lenny was assigned the jobs of learning the comsat and weather satellite readouts. Surprisingly, he was able to effectively utilize the Iridium network within a day, and his use of the NOAA satellite imaging system helped keep us aware of any seriously windy days or inclement weather. This would be important in about a month when he hit T:00. We needed at least a day of warning in the case of a hurricane so we could "hurry" the shuttle back to the VAB.

I found that Bill and Lenny worked better when they were separated. Bill was useful for some of the more "manual" labor jobs such as fuel system handling, gantry assembly, and driving to the store for supplies. Lenny did a fine job of systems monitoring and communications with the ISS. It was Lenny who made us aware of HB his intention to come to Kennedy to help. We certainly needed all we could get.

When the shuttle finally reached 39A, I took the elevator to the top of the gantry and decided to have a look inside the cabin. Bill was assigned the job of cabin maintenance, including making sure that the extremely long checklist for cabin preparation was complete before liftoff. I spent most of the weekend in the cabin with a flight manual and sat-phone getting accustomed to the onboard systems. Commander Foale up in the ISS was very helpful in guiding me through the sequence. I was fortunate that the launch sequence was nearly completely automated with a few known pilot inputs. As Foale put it one afternoon, "The first astronauts were monkeys, and the philosophy among spacecraft designers hasn't changed much since then." I was surprised at how much the Endeavor rocked and swayed in the breezes atop the launch pad.

After a long training session and nap aboard the shuttle, I exited yesterday afternoon to find Bill hanging from the gantry rubbing the side of the cargo bay door.

"What are you DOING?" I asked.

"Giving her a wax job!" Bill said beaming.

"Have you mastered the LC link and fuel systems handling yet?" I said, the blood pressure in my head rising.

Bill, looking slightly offended, pulled out a headset and handed it to me. Putting it on, I spoke.

"This is Nik." I said.

"Nik, Lenny. We now have positive systems monitoring at LC. The gantry is in place, and onboard power systems have been implemented. Commencing with control test sequence one-alpha. Please stand by."

I nodded approvingly to Bill as I handed him the headset and took the elevator to my Mustang waiting below.

I awoke to find myself in a dark airport terminal lying beside Bill. Bill was lying beside me and Lenny was standing over both of us holding a flashlight and looking at us.

"What the heck just happened?" I asked.

"In order to prevent you and Bill from killing each other, I immobilized both of you." Lenny answered as Bill began stirring.

"How?"

"A technique I learned many years ago while in the entertainment industry." Lenny answered.

I presumed that the darkness had resulted from a loss of power due to an unmaintained power grid. Looking onto the darkened runway as the sun was setting, I noticed that teh Challenger collapsed under the weight of the 747, tilting the 747 awkwardly to the side in the middle of the runway. With no power, no runway lights, no weather radar, and no outgoing NAV frequencies, it would be very difficult to remove the wreckage from the runway and commandeer another 747 - flying by visual - before the sun set.

I sat up quickly and shook off the headache that seemed to come from the neck pinch administered by Lenny. Looking out the second story terminal window, I saw a catering truck sitting on the tarmac. I ran down the steps to the lower level and out the terminal door to the truck. Bill and Lenny, curious as to my immediate plans followed. Opening the door to the truck, I found a set of clothing from whoever was driving it before disappearing. The key was also in it. Starting the truck, I put it in gear just as Bill and Lenny were jumping into the back. I put the truck in gear and drove to the 747.

Pulling up to the cargo bay door, I stepped out of the truck and into the platform carrier.

"What's going on?" Bill asked. I didn't answer as I raised the platform to the level of the cargo bay. Opening the cargo bay, I stepped inside and gathered my backpack with my sat-phone and maps. I sorted through the maps until I found the one for New York and surrounding areas. After about fifteen minutes, I had memorized the route to La Guardia. Untying the black Kawasaki Ninja from its moorings and stood it up on it's wheels. I kick-started it and drove it out the cargo bay door and over the platform of the catering truck - landing hard onto the pavement below. I heard Bill shout behind me. I spun around and stopped to see him and Lenny running towards me.

"Where are you going?" Bill was out of breath and sweating as he spoke.

"La Guardia." I answered. Revving the engin, I took off on the rear wheel as I heard Bill shout behind me.

"Wait for us....." was all I heard.

As I drove down the runway to the exit, Bill and Lenny both ran to the catering truck. They both grappled breifly as each attempted to get into the driver's seat. Finally Lenny got in and Bill shoved him to the passenger seat. Backing the truck up, he follwed me down the street with the platform still raised - taking out several electric lines and stoplights as I drove down the streets of New York to La Gaurdia airport.

At LaGuardia, I drove to a 747 sitting on the end of the runway. Bill and Lenny pulled up beside me in the catering truck and Bill stuck his head out.

"We're coming with you!" He smiled. I nearly objected, but then thought it might be safer if we were all in the same plane.

"Don't piss me off, or you'll find yourself landing much faster than you'd like." I glared at him and reved the engine for punctuation.

"Fine." He said quickly and fidgetted.

La Guardia was also without power and I thought briefly.

"Follow me, guys!" I ordered and drove to the end of the runway. Turning around, I pointed the motorcycle back towards the 747, put the kickstand down, and left the headlights on. I then climbed into the truck, shoving Bill over and floored it back to the 747. Pulling up to the cabin entrance, I lowered the platform, got out and got on the platform. Bill and Lenny joined me as I raised us up to the level of the cabin door.

The inside of the plane was eerily empty with several sets of empty clothes lying in the seats. I moved to the flight deck and removed the empty clothing from the captain's chair, tossing it aside. I looked at Bill and Lenny standing there. As I began my ritual of covering the cabin with post-it notes, I spoke to Bill and Lenny.

"Go to the galley and fix some coffee." I barked. They nodded and ran to the galley, bumping shoulders as they attempted to exit the flight deck at the same time.

After an hour of preparations, I looked down the runway, seeing my motorcycle which I had converted to a runway light. It would do. Bill and Lenny returned with a tray of coffee. Bill had changed his clothing into the captain's outfit - complete with hat - while the coffee was brewing. I rolled my eyes at him as I took the coffee. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out two more dexatrine pills and swallowed them with the coffee.

"What do you want us to do?" Bill asked.

"Buckle up," I answered as I powered up the four massive Rolls Royce RB211 turbofan powerplants. Bill began to move into the pilot's chair.

".... somewhere else." I growled. Bill sheepishly got up and moved to the main cabin with Lenny.

Checking my fuel balance and level, I started the ECIS NAV system and looked up the VOR frequency for Kennedy, which was actually in the computer much to my surprise. Punching the throttle, I sent the plane hurling down the runway, and pulled smoothly into the air.

At cruising altitude, I switched on the cabin intercomm and asked Bill and Lenny to get me something to eat. After a few minutes, they brought in a bag of peanuts. I asked for a sandwich.

Bill returned with a stale sandwich and spoke.

"Where we heading?" Bill asked as I set the autopilot and opened the sandwich.

"Kennedy," I said. "We have some friends to help." I pulled some NASA proceedure manuals out of my backpack and began reading.

ZZ-Top and Dire Straits

............That's the way you do it! You play the guitar on the MTV.

I slid down the emergency exit slide of the 747 (again) and turned around. The Lear was comfortably embedded underneath the large aircraft, looking very much like it belonged there. I watched in fury as the fat man and the slender man exited the Lear, coughing from the smoke of an onboard fire. Angrily, I walked up to the fat man. As I approached, I wound up and took a swing at him for destroying one of the most unique aircraft on the planet. He backed out of my punch as I spun around. Coming about, I saw him just in time to take a two-fisted crane shot right in the jaw. I fell to the ground, my mouth dripping blood and throbbing.

"Bill! Please!" The thin man - presumably Lenny - said.

Bill got a running start and launched into the air in a flying kick. I caught his foot and twisted it, sending him slamming into the ground. Jumping on him, we grappled, rolling around on the ground like schoolboys in a fight.

"You're damn lucky the shuttle is already at Kennedy! That plane is it's only transport!" I swung hard into Bill's back as we both stood up and faced off. Bill faked several lunges before charging. I caught him hard as we both fell to the ground again. Falling, I could see Lenny walking up to us. He placed a hand on each of our shoulders and squeezed hard. I winced as a shock of pain ran through my body.

My vision narrowed into a tunnel of light, and I passed out.

I had already programmed the ECIS flight computer with the final approach vector and landing cylinders. The VOR beacon was guiding me in, and the ILS system had already taken over - projecting a graphic image of the runway on the NAV screen and the heads-up display. Wind shear was negligible today, and visibility was great, so I was pretty confident that I might actually hit the runway today. My concentration was suddently interrupted by a loud beeping and a flashing red light on the center console - a red light I had never taken the time to familiarize myself with. I was surprised when I looked at the label on the light.

The collision alarm?

Craning my neck, I looked out the windows, but saw nothing. The plane rocked slightly in an updraft and tilted a little to the right turning off the autoguidance for the ILS. Looking out my left window, I saw the Challenger 300 come up from under me and to my side as it lined-up for the runway at JFK.

"What the hell is this?" I muttered to myself. I turned on my comm.

"Challenger three-zero-zero, this is November-Alpha-two-three-five-zero heavy on approach to Juliet-Foxtrot-Kilo runway four. I have you on visual on my left at two-seven-zero. Please pick up your visual at zero-niner-zero and divert course to two-seven-zero at zero-one thousand feet." The plane was close enough to see its occupants in the cabin - a tall thin man with a frown, and somewhat shorter, portly man eating a breakfast burrito. They both looked at me.

"Hey, let's cut the jet-jockey talk, fly-boy! I don't understand a thing you're saying!" Came the reply from the fat man.

I rolled my eyes as I replied. "Turn left and get the hell out of my way so I can land this pig!" I said into the microphone. At a few miles out and just over three thousand feet, now was not a time to waste any time.

"Screw you, rocket-boy! We were here first, so we get to land first!" Looking at the Lear, I could make out a middle finger held up in the right window. Silencing the incessant collision and stall alarms, I checked my fuel gauge and balance. Damn! Not enough for a go-around.

"Negative, three-zero-zero, I am way low on fuel, and need to land now. Please execute landing abort proceedure now." Looking over at the Lear, I could see the two men arguing and grappling for control of the yoke. The fat man reached down, pulled up a can of whipped topping, and sprayed the thin man in the face. The thin man grabbed his face and went to the rear of the plane. The fat man smirked at me as I saw the flaps of the Lear lower and the landing gear drop.

"Challenger three-zero-zero, you do realize the danger in engaging a seven-four-seven wide in a mid-air game of chicken?" I asked, my jaw set.

"Bring it on, space-man!" was the reply, and the game was afoot. As we approached the runway, the Lear attempted a sharp bank towards the 747 and was kicked aside in the tubulenced of the massive powerplants. Rocking heavily, the Lear regained control and attempted to move under and in front of the plane. I brought the nose up slightly and increased throttle to gain speed.

As the two approached the runway, I could feel a sharp bump and heard the screech of metal as the 747 sandwiched the Lear between the ground and itself. The two skidded across the runway as the 747 dragged the Lear under its belly. Sparks flew, and the 747 skidded to a stop - the tail of the Lear embedded in its belly like a knife. I felt the massive plane top to one side, as the landing gear of the Lear attempted to balance both planes. The 747 tipped to the left and was stopped by the left wingtip. I swored loudly at the thought of losing the well-equipped plane.

Moving to the rear, I exited the plane the same way I had on my previous two landings.

Coffee.... the breakfast of champions. However, given that today's a football Saturday, I may step outside the lab, join a tailgate party, and have something more..... robust.

The powerful avionics modifications on the NASA shuttle transport craft made it quite easy to identify and track the phantom craft heading to New England. As well, the completly empty cabin and cargo area made the plane lighter for a little extra speed - not to mention providing enough space for the Kawasaki Ninja Nik borrowed from a dealership in Houston.

Having gotten used to using the ECIS system, Nik was able to monitor and control most of the craft's functions from the center console. Using the NAV map with radar information and transponder pickup, Nik tracked the craft and its heading. As the plane was on approach to Albany, Nik decided to break the silence. Putting on his headset, he set his frequency for the Albany airport transmission code and spoke.

"Unidentified craft on approach for Albany, this is November-Alpha - two-three-five-zero heavy out of Houston on heading zero-one-niner at three-five-three knots. I'm picking you up on transponder one-four-eight-six at five-four-one knots and heading zero-three-five. I copy your ELT beacon. Do you require assistance?"

Nik heard what sounded like a small scuffle on the other end from what sounded like two people fighting over the comm switch. After several seconds, he received a reply from a somewhat deep and rather dry sounding voice. The surprise was unmistakable.

"This is private craft Challenger 300. We're going to Albany." The man didn't appear to know what to say. Nik checked the course radar on the center panel and thought for a few minutes. If he landed at Albany, he probably wouldn't be able to take off again - even with the plane completely stripped as it was.

"Challenger three-zero-zero, are you alone?" Nik was surprised himself to know that there were other people on the planet. This time a different voice answered. It was a bit faster, somewhat boyish sounding, and the speaker sounded like he was eating.

"It's just me and Lenny here." The voice said. "We have friends back at Lafayette. What is your business."

"Challenger three-zero-zero, intended destination is Kennedy Space Center. I changed course when I picked up your ELT."

After several minutes, we exchanged stories. I was somewhat relieved to find that there were actually hundreds of people left on the planet - maybe more. I discussed my plan to attempt to rescue the astronauts stranded on the ISS. After a few seconds of silence, my thoughts returned to the strip at Albany.

"Challenger three-zero-zero, will you divert course to zero-niner-eight for approach to Juliet-Foxtrot-Kilo? Alpha-Lima-Bravo will not handle my rollout. Please respond."

I made out a few minutes of arguing on the other end, only picking up a couple of recognizable words.

"..... no, I wanna turn the wheel....."

"..... but it's MY turn..... said we could trade...."

"..... expect to do this..... YOU do the map......"

"...... did the map last time......."

As I waited, I looked up the VOR code and checked the approach vectors for JFK airport. Finally, I got an answer.

"We will meet you at JFK."

"Copy that three-zero-zero. I have ETA of one-four-one-two hours. Please be sure to clear the runway when you touchdown."

Yesterday, I was the only person on the planet. Now, I was about to meet a few of hundreds.

Nik was onboard a different 747 on his way from Houston space center to LC in Florida. The commute was necessary as Houston had several mock-ups, trainers, and simulators. If this plan was to work, he really had to know what he was doing. On the other hand he had to return to LC to get the Endeavor the rest of the way to Launch pad 39A and figure out how to prep it for lift off. The NASTAD weather broadcasting system was intermitten lately with the continuous stream of power outages sweeping across the planet, so Nik had only intermittent information on the hurricane headed for Louisiana. He decided to stay well out of the Gulf of Mexico and divert his course northward ito Arkansas and Kentucky. Reaching into the duffle bag beside him, he grabbed a few sandwiches and some of the dexatrine pills he

had picked up at a deserted pharmacy. The pills did a fine job of keeping him awake and alert, but he had to be sure to stay hydrated and eat a lot to keep from losing weight.

As he crossed the Arkansas border, Nik heard a beep coming from the comm panel. Setting the plane for autopilot, he went back to the panel to see the problem. His jaw dropped as he saw the characteristic signal of an ELT beacon. He pulled the satellite phone from his bag and dialed.

"Foale..." came the answer.

"Foale, this is Nik. I'm en route to Canaveral, but I just picked up an ELT beacon set for 800kHz." Nik glanced a the NAV panel. "It's not stationary, so I'm guessing someone is piloting a plane with their beacon lit up." It never occured to Nik that someone else might be on the planet, so he never thought of activating his own beacon. "It's over Lake Erie right now. Course heading..... zero-three-five degrees. .... at 540 knots......" Nik looked at the NAV computer, which took him two days to learn, but was much easier than the paper charts. "Albany...." The Nav computer also told Nik what was at Albany. He could land there, but never take off again; the runway was too short.

"I'm going to have a look." Nik reported. I'll be back at Kennedy tomorrow.

Nik dialed in the ODB for Albany and the autopilot automatically made the necessary course correction. He would never catch up to the plane before it landed, but maybe he could communicate with it.

And this is something you have done before???   :P No, I understand. You turn your body so alkaline that nothing can survive in there. :)  Not even the lining of your esophagus. I've tried doing that too. I just can't get it down. Good luck with that. :lol:

268372[/snapback]

I think it makes the body more acidic. Similar antidotes include mega-dosing on

aspirin. It's an ancient oriental remedy.

I stood on the platform in my blue jumpsuit at the back of the orbiter cabin. Looking out the top window of the cabin, I could make out the docking ring of the ISS. I could also make out the badly damaged Soyuz spacecraft.

Maneauvering thruster control had been diverted to the service console. Grasping the t-shaped handle, I twisted and pushed slightly. After several minutes of hard concentration and minute adjustments to the control, the orbiter's rotation matched that of the ISS. I heard Commander Foale's voice crackle over my headset.

"Endeavor, I copy your omega-dot ten dps. R vector is nominal, you may commence your aproach."

With the shuttle now rotating at the same rate as the space station, I began to push the control stick slightly forward. I heard small hisses and felt barely preceptible vibrations, as the compressed fuel pushed the shuttle towards the station.

"... We copy negative z-dot, Endeavor, aproach vector on the center peg...." Looking through the top cabin window I could see Gennady taking pictures from the port of the ISS. His five-day growth casting a dark shadow on his face.

As I made minute changes to the thrusters, my nose itched. My feet - clamped into a small platform to keep me from floating away - were aching slightly. The itching in my nose grew more intense, and I tried to ignore it as both of my hands were occupied.

".... three meters and closing Endeavor... you speed is good...." Foale informed me over the comm channel.

I couldn't help the sneeze that erupted from my body. Jerking forward, I pushed hard on the nose thruster control. The shuttle lurched upward, and I could hear Gennady swear in Russian over my headset. Foal screamed as the cabin of the shuttle slammed into the docking ring of the ISS.....

The lights in the cabin dimmed to a flashing red and a buzzing siren sounded. A soothing feminine voice sounded in the cabin.

"Simulation terminated....." The voice repeated. I exhaled sharply and stepped off the platform, kicking my foot into the air. I opened the door of the simulator and stepped into the large hangar. Sitting down at a control console, I pushed the flashing red comm button. Foale's voice crackled from outer space.

"So what the heck happened?" He asked. "Everything was going well, and you slammed into us. Pull that for real, and it'll be a short ride home!"

"I sneezed." I muttered into my headset. "How close was I?" I asked.

"Two or three meters." Gennady said.

"Dammit!" I punched the console.

"Don't worry about it." Foale said. "Everything else is automated. You still got two months to do this. How's the Endeavor?"

"Halfway to 39-A." I said. We had been extremely fortunate that the Endeavor had been prepped for launch before the Columbia disaster and had been sitting attached to the SRBs and EFT in the VAB since then. Getting it prepped meant moving it on it's large trawler to the pad and attaching the umbilicals. I had spending nights reading up on launch prep and days in the simulator. We were at T minus 60 days.....

I've got a great remedy for colds. Whenever I feel something coming on, I drink a half-cup of white vinegar. Good for what ails ya!

After nearly an entire weekend of communications with ISS and fumbling through manuals and 100-page memos, I had gotten to the point where I rerouted MC readouts and status indicators from Houston to Kennedy consoles. I had learned more top secret passwords in two days than I had in my entire (albeit short) career working at national laboratories. We all agreed that the return of the ISS crew would be a top priority - the only priority. During a scheduled sleep break aboard ISS, I took the opportunity to hop in the Mustang and go grocery shopping. I also "bought" a pair of rollerblades so I could get around the cavernous launch control room easier to read individual consoles. I noticed that the grocery store had lost power, and had an awful thought on the way back to LC. With noboby to maintain power plants across the country, it would be a matter of days before the coal and oil plants simply ran out of fuel.

Back at LC, I was a bit surprised that everything was still powered. I went through the emergency power proceedures and found that - in addition to a very large generator which would power the LC itself for several days - the center was directly on the grid for the St. Lucie #2 pressurized water reactor. I guessed that power fluctuations and outages forced an interlock on the "non-essential" loads, and initiated an automatic shutdown of the other grids, leaving plenty of power for LC. Checking the emergency console, I saw that the generator was not powered. I relaxed a little with the idea that LC would most likely continue to run indefinitely.

I strapped on the Rollerblades and made some rounds of the LC, checking individual consoles and noting - as best as I could tell - that everything seemed OK. I planned to spend the rest of the day reading up a bit on the 757 parked in the hangar. In my research I was surprised to find that Kennedy space center had a helicopter on site. Maybe I could figure this out a bit as well. Propping my rollerblades up on the comm

panel, I continued reading until I fell asleep, my head filled with strange dreams of a lone car on I-94 and a strange message from the inside of the 747.

I was awakened by the sharp pinging of the comm panel. Nearly falling out of my chair, I put on the headset, and spoke.

"ISS. Kennedy. You are on VOX-One. Please go ahead."

"Kennedy. ISS. Soyuz-1 reports a discharge loss on parachute canards two and three. Please confirm." I jump to my feet, forgetting wheels I am still wearing, and fall on my back. I release a string of vulgarity getting up.

"Kennedy, we didn't copy that last transmission. Could you please repeat."

"Uh...." I stuttered, "Please stand by ISS for confirmation." I roll around to the auxilliary panel and see the red flashing light indicating that the pressure in the cannisters holding the explosive charges which would eject the parachute from the Soyuz emergency capsule had dropped significantly. I stare for a minute and speak slowly.

"ISS, I copy your pressure reading. Can you get visual confirmation on charge leak?" I ask.

"Standby Kennedy..." Was the reply. I wait for several minutes. After 10 minutes, the reply comes back on my receiver.

"Kennedy. ISS. Gennady just went down to the capsule and had a look out the port. It looks like a meteoroid impact destroyed the outer shield and penetrated the parachute cannisters. Chutes two and three have been destroyed. We are sealing off the Soyuz to prevent station breach."

The silence hung heavily in the air as we all thought the same thing. Without parachutes, the capsule could re-enter with no problem - assuming that the heat shield was not compromised in the collision, or they would all burn up. However, the capsule would drop like a rock, and implant itself firmly into the Russian permafrost.

My mouth is dry as I speak slowly. "Uh.... ISS.... Please stand by for options...." The voice in my head told me there weren't too many ways back for the crew of the ISS, and one involved picking bits of flesh off the smoldering wreckage of a Soyuz capsule.

ISS just lost its lifeboat.

Despite the heavy "security," getting into NASA was easy. The towering Vehicle Assembly Building dominated the otherwise flat landscape dotted with launch towers. A very long runway ran the length of the compound on the cape, and several hangars were located near the VAB. I drove directly across the compound towards the VAB - not sure what I would find. I should have expected what I found in the hangars - a 757 in one, and the remainder of the U.S. shuttle fleet in the others - grounded for over a year now since the Columbia accident. They looked clean, and I noticed that any missing tiles on the Endeavor had been meticulously replaced, leaving it pristine. The hangar was huge with a massive overhead gantry used for hoisting the vessel off the back of the 757 after transport. Before having a look at the 757, I decided to find my way to launch control, and see if I could get a feel for the global communications network with M.C. in Houston and listening outposts in Australia, Africa, India, and elsewhere.

The communications center at L.C. was as impressive as I had imagined. NASA had a special bandwidth allocated on many existing satellites, including the newer fleet of Iridiums iin goesynchronous orbit. It also had dibs on several birds which have not yet launched. I tried a few things, and after several hours firgured out how to open channels to the various listening posts, Houston, and the Biaknur cosmodrome in Siberia, which was unsurprisingly silent. The system was actually pretty user friendly, and after only two hours, I could easily open VOX channels to pretty much anywhere in the world.

Late into the evening, I was still examining the mission status console, when I came across a very disturbing find. Scanning through the comm channels, I had managed to pick up the listening post near Perth, transmitting the signal off of an Irirdium comm bird above the Pacific. Set for ISS VOX communication, I had managed to listen in the most unexpected conversation in my life.

"... as well just keep the channel open...... no it's already been three days and no sign of anything.... Gennady, what have you found?"

I hear a Russian voice in the background, "Is no sign of global nuclear war. I do not know what has happened."

Quickly fumbling with the switches, I attempt to communicate with the unknown voice.

"ISS, this is Kennedy launch control picking you up loud and clear, what's your status?" That sounded dumb, but I couln't think of anything else to say. I hear papers rustling in the background and someone say "ouch" as he bumps a body part.

"Kennedy! ISS. What the hell's going on down there?"

"ISS. Kennedy. I have no idea. As far as I know the entire population of the planet, except myself - and you - has disappeared. I haven't picked up anything on the comm channels, and aside from some pre-recorded AM programs, haven't found any live comm networks. I'm currently running a global satellite scan on all NASA listening posts and commercial frequencies with no luck."

"Jesus...." was the whispered reply. There was a long silence on the other end.

"Kennedy. ISS. We copy your report. All systems are nominal here. We will maintain this open comm."

I stare at the blinking light on the panel for few seconds before speaking....

"Right... ", I say, "Uh.... do you guys have a way back?"

"Roger that Kenned- Hey! Wait! You're not with L.C. are you!" Came the reply.

"Well, no.... I wanted to check the place out, so I drove up, and that's how I got here, then I found you guys." I heard a faint chuckle on the other end. Then the guy asked me for my name.

"Kennedy. ISS. We keep a Soyuz capsule permanently docked for emergency escapes. We can fly by wire to get back to the Russian steppes, but we are going to need a little help."

The astronaut on the ISS explained to me that he would require telemetry calucations for the re-entry window, and asked if I think I could handle that. I told him I had a Ph.D. in astrophysics, and could do that in my head. He seemed relieved. Typical Soyuz re-entry was designed for the Russian steppes, so he would need transport from there after landing. When I told him I taught myself how to fly, he said that central Siberia is no place for a jumbo jet to land; I would need a helicopter.

"Is that hard to learn?" I asked. I got a long pause on the other end and a loud exhalation of breath.

"Uh.... well.... we can survive for a week or two on the steppes, but I doubt you can learn to fly a chopper in that time." I took his word for it, since he was probably a pilot.

"Yeah, but you can survive for three months up there, right?" I said.

"Roger that, Kennedy." Was the cautious reply.

"So I can spend a month or two practicing on a helicopter, upload the telemetry calculations to you after that, then while you are undergoing re-entry and landing, I'll fly the 757 to Vladivostok, grab a chopper, and pick you up. You'll only be on the steppes for a day or two."

I could practically hear the man thinking on the other end. Over the comm channel, someone was playing music on the ISS. I could make out the faint reverberating beat of.... Barry Manilow.... playing in the background. I found myself hoping that his CD player would run out of batteries if we were going to be talking back and forth for a month.

"Roger that Kennedy...." was the reply. I could hear his skepticism, but also his

belief that this was the only choice. We sat in silence for a few more minutes.

"So.... my name's Nik." I said.

"Foale. Commander C. Michael... uh..... Mike." Came the reply of a man with only a single friend on the whole planet.

My watch alarm goes off three hours from Orlando. I had the strangest dream while I napped. I dreamt that someone had tried to contact me on the broadband and then the radio went dead. Strange......

With three hours left to Orlando, I decided to try a mid-course correction. Turning off the autopilot, the plane dipped slightly while I regained control of the yoke. I had to run back to NAV to check the VOR reading. Doing that the plane dipped some more as it encountered turbulence, so I had to run back to the yoke to pull back to level flight. I decided to switch on the auto while I rechecked the numbers in NAV. I made another post-it note to myself about leaving the yoke and put it right on the yoke. I retried the course correction, turning to one-seven-niner, and dropped to thirty-two thousand.

My first flight taught me quickly about fuel effiency as a function of altitude, so I made sure to stay well above 300 feet.

With three hours to Orlando, I decided to see if there were any good CD's in the steward's deck...... looking around, I could only find the collected works of..... Barry Manilow. I decided to fly the rest of the trip in silence.

Landing in Orlando was really tough. Using the VOR and ILS, I could line up my final approach without even looking out the window, but cross-breezes and wind shear made the plane feel like a ping-pong ball in the ocean. The gear hit the runway slightly sideways, and the plane bounced into the air before coming down hard again. Skidding hard down the runway, the plane turned hard onto the grass and the left wheel lifted off the ground, scraping the right wing on the runway. The wing caught the grass and dug in hard before coming to a stop. The left wing slowly came down and the plane bounced hard on the left wheel.

I sat in the captain's chair blinking for several seconds before looking out the cockpit window at the wing. The wingtip had broken off, and some insulation was flying out the end in the breeze, but I didn't see any fuel leaking. Checking the intstument pannel, I noticed that I had forgotten to balance the fuel tanks in flight and while the left wing had a lot of fuel left in it, the right wing was completely empty. That imbalance may have ruined my landing, but it also probably saved me from a fiery death. So far, I am zero-for-two on good landings. At least I hit the runway this time. The terminal was about a mile away, and I had to exit the plane the same way as last time - via the emergency exit. I gathered up my collection of Post-It notes and pulled the cord to activate the chute, the emergency beacon, and also the emergency radio transmitter. I jumped out, slid down and jogged to the terminal. I noticed some wreckage about halfway down the runway - most likely a plane whose pilot disappeared upon approach. I began to consider how lucky my landing was after all. A full rollout would have brought me right into that wreckage.

It took me a while to find a rental car agency with easily accessible keys. I decided to "rent" a Black Mustang Convertible - declining the supplemental insurance. On the way out the door, I stopped by the gift shop to get some music, but they had a very limited selection of..... Barry Manilow. I decided to take the trip in silence.

On the way out the airport, I heard the faint sound of machinery. Following the sound, I found that the baggage claim conveyor belt was still running. I did something that I've always wanted to do for a long time.

Putting the keys in my pocket, I got on the conveyor belt, and rode around for a few laps. The inside of the baggage department was much more fascinating and complex than I thought, and I was not surprised that luggage loss is such a common problem among fliers.

Finding the Mustang was easy. I pushed the panic button on the keychain and followed the alarm as it echoed throughout the parking garage.

I was on my way to Kennedy space center to try out the 757 and anything else I might find.

T1 Ethernet. 100Mbps. I don't think there's anything faster.

No, but right now, I can't do much of anything without yawning.

I would have to say that it means that Spock is indeed related to Doyle. I don't think that he would be related to Holmes. Though ST could easily have assumed Holmes was real, I believe that ST assumes that Holmes is fictional. I say this becuase he

is assumed fictional in the TNG episodes involving Moriarty ("Ship in a Bottle" and I can't remember the other one). Of course continuity could be violated here; I think the TNG episodes came after ST:TUC. It wouldn't be the first time.

Today's try on the 747 out of San Diego went pretty well. It only took me four hours to get through the pre-flight checklist. I also found the airport galley, so I made sure to fill the plane with lots of food. I covered the cockpit with post-it notes from things I've learned from the last flight. Key phrases in black marker like "Landing gear", "Watch the throttle", "Level flight", "Fuel balance", and "De-Ice" were placed at strategic locations to help remind meof things that might make the flight easier.

This time, I wasn't all over the runway, and I cleared the fence by a long shot. She still handled like a pig, so I wasn't about to try anything fancy, but I thought I'd get to know the navigation a bit. After several hours of experimenting with the nav-panel, I managed to find out how to work the VOR and ILS sysems. Luckily, I found a book filled with various airport frequencies, alignment cylinders, and ODB plots. The radio equipment on this thing was amazing. I could communicate with anyone and anything in the world with the satellite communication equipment. I also noticed that I had drifted well into northern Canada.

I set the VOR frequencies for Orlando airport and turned on the autopilot. The plane banked smoothly, and flew south.

On my way to Orlando, I went back to the galley to get some of the food I brought with me. I was surprised to learn that the cabin crew on 747's actually eat pretty well. I wonder why the passengers never eat this well....

Seven hours to Orlando. From there, I'd pick up a rental car, drive to Canaveral, and see if NASA had their 757 parked in the lot.

I also decided to play with the comm panel a bit. All the airport radar and radio beacons were still operating, as were a few radio stations that played syndicated pre-recorded broadcasts, but I didn't detect any real signs of life, so I decided to take a brief nap. I set my watch alarm to wake me a few hours before Orlando.

Looking out the cockpit window, I noticed that I was clearing Lake Michigan. As my eyelids grew heavy, I could recognize I-94 going into Chicago. It was strangely empty. As I fell back into the captain's chair, my eyes caught sight of a vehicle leaving the city. The thought drifted from my consciousness as I fell asleep.

Landing the 747 was a bit tougher than I thought. Coming into San Diego, I overshot the runway by a good 2000 feet, but I fortunately missed the buildings near the end. I also forgot the landing gear. The plane skimmed the surface of the ocean and came to a stop, sinking slowly. It's a good thing I had the nose up, or it probably would have went end-over-end and broken in two. I got the inflatable raft, a large amount of food, and a flashlight before exiting and jumping onto the raft. It took me several hours to get to shore. I'll have to try another 747 tomorrow.

September 20, 2004:

I finally finished the 747 flight manual. Getting through airport security was no problem, as it wasn't there. Getting on the plane was a problem however, as it took me a while to figure out how to run the gangway to the airplane. When I finally got aboard, I figured out that there was nobody around to move the gangway back, so just decided to leave the airplane door open, and go find a ladder. Kicking the ladder away, I closed the cabin door and went to the cockpit.

It took an entire eight hours to go through the pre-flight checklist, which was a good exercise, as it forced me to learn the instrumentation. It's a good thing the galley was well stocked.

I finally managed to get the engines started and rolling out onto the tarmac was easier than I thought. I did a few laps around the aiport before getting to the runway to get a feel for how the plane handled. When I felt comfortable with how it handled on the ground, I decided to give it a go in the air. I didn't have to really worry about communications, radio, and not even navigation too much becuase nobody else was around.

On the runway, I consulted the book sitting in my lap. After an hour of going through the final checks, I lowered the flaps as instructed and throttled the engines up. She handled much differently at 120 miles an hour and I swerved wildly down the runway. When I finally passed stall speed, I pulled back on the yoke, and the plane lifted gracefully into the air - barely clearing the fence at the end of the runway. After a few minutes of climbing, an alarm reminded me to raise flaps and raise the landing gear.

The fuel gauge and onboard computer told me that I had about eight hours of fuel left. That was plenty of time to read up on how to land. I figured I'd level off at about 300 feet becuase that seemed like a nice round number, and I didn't think I'd run into any trees that tall. I soon discovered that some buildings were actually taller than that, so rechecked the manual and found that I misread. That's 30000 feet - not 300 feet!

Flying for free would be fun!

(Posted with permission from Ambassador Jeanway.)

Had he not been trained to observe logic and truth, Tuvok would not have believed that he was awake on the bridge of Voyager. However, the intense pain in his leg told him that he was very much alive. A panel behind him sparked indignantly and a ceiling panel swung wearily behind him. He also noticed that the ceiling seemed a lot closer than usual. He was floating free aboard the bridge. As he tried to pivot in the weightlessness, he glanced over at Kim, his face covered with soot and his shirt torn. Kim was attempting to hold himself to a console. His hand slipped off and he floated free.

“Status, Ensign.” Tuvok said hoarsely. From the ceiling, Kim squinted at his console.

“Uh… “ he began to rotate as his console rotated outside his field of view. “Minimal life support throughout….. hull breach on decks 22 and 23…. No casualties……” He paused until he rotated so that the console was back in view.

“Warp speed offline. Engineering reports coming in….. impulse only….. decks 1 through 10 report a loss of artificial gravity….”

“Thank you for that.” Tuvok said wryly at the last comment as he attempted to swim to the captain’s chair. Tapping his com-badge, he spoke. “Tuvok to stores. Please report to the bridge with several pairs of magnetic boots.”

Paris floated lifelessly as the doctor “stood” beside him on some imaginary floor. The doctor’s straight form rotated with Paris. Tuvok, unsuccessful in grabbing the captain’s chair as he floated by drifted right through the doctor, who did not react as he stared at him.

“What is the condition of Mr. Paris?” he asked.

“He is stable, but will require a more stable environment for a full recovery.” The doctor’s reprimand was implicit as he spoke.

“Understood. I will have personnel from stores take him to sickbay when they arrive.” In the dim lighting, Tuvok squinted at Kim. “What of the alien vessel?” He asked.

Ensign Kim managed to grab his console and pull himself into his seat. Holding onto the console, he read as a report scrolled by.

“Uh…. Sir….. it looks like the vessel was destroyed by a small planet….”

“A planet?” Tuvok’s eyebrow shot up. “We detected no planet in the nebula.”

“This one seemed to be encased in the dark matter pocket that we hit. When we hit the pocket, it disrupted the mass. The ship couldn’t turn in time….”

“Onscreen.” Tuvok ordered. He braced himself on the ceiling as he turned to look through the thick cloud hanging over the bridge at the viewscreen.

A simulated image of Voyager was displayed as it weaved though the nebula, dodging invisible pockets of dark matter. The large triangular ship matched its every move and its front glowed green as it pivoted behind Voyager. As Voyager swerved hard to one side, a thick cloud of dust was shot up in its wake and Voyager was sent spinning. In the perturbation caused by Voyager, the cloud peeled back and a large rocky body appeared out of nowhere. The triangular ship caught the rock on one of it’s “wings” and it was sent into a tailspin as it vented plasma into space large sparks arced across the surface of the ship as it spun wildly. A spark ignited the venting gas, and the ship was suddenly engulfed in flames. The resulting shock wave caught Voyager and sent it into an end-over-end topple into the blackness of space. Gas from the alien vessel crystallized in the vacuum and a few icy crystals sparkled in the dim light of the nebula.

“There were no survivors.” Kim reported.

(Posted with permission from Ambassador Jeanway.)

Tuvok and Kim sat the science console staring intently at the viewscreen. For several seconds they sat in silence, until Kim pointed quickly and spoke.

“There!” he said. “Did you see that?”

“Yes…” Tuvok replied quietly. “A minor perturbation in the dark matter clusters density populating the nebula.”

“There it is again!” Kim pointed.

Tuvok leaned back and thought silently for several seconds. “If my theory is correct,” he began, “we are being watched.” Kim looked at Tuvok with a furrowed brow. “Continue your observations, Ensign – noting position, time, and fluctuation intensity.”

Tuvok turned to the viewscreen. “Computer…” At the familiar chirp of the computer, he spoke. “Initiate library search for optical detection of cloaked vessels by Federation personnel… limit search to onscreen visual detection of optical wavelengths only.”

After several seconds, the computer chirped and replied in its characteristic feminine voice. “One result found.”

“Specify and overlay on forward viewscreen.” On the field of stars in the forward screen, a small graphic appeared in the lower right corner as green print scrolled down the screen. The image of an historic figure rotated slowly on the screen as the computer spoke.

“Kirk… Captain James T. Only known visual detection of cloaked Klingon vessel following Genesis incident near former Regula space station.”

Tuvok turned to the rear of the vessel and spoke to Ensign Kim. “I believe that we have doubled the count.” He said wryly. “While such detections have been rendered –“

“Captain!” Ensign Kim shouted. “Look!” He pointed to the screen. Tuvok turned quickly as the large vessel uncloaked. Its large triangular shape formed menacingly in front of Voyager as it’s smooth black skin shimmered into view. Its hull was dark and smooth with only a few points of light where small viewports existed. Nearly twice the size of Voyager, it hovered silently only a kilometer off.

“I’m not getting any sensor readings beyond mass and displacement.” Kim said. “Captain! I think we’re being scanned. I’m detecting a broad range deep-penetrating multi-phase burst. Wait! I’m detecting a power surge!”

“Red alert.” Tuvok said as he took the captain’s chair. The bridge was flooded with dim red lighting. “Evasive maneuvers!” As Paris’ hands flew across his console, the forward screen displayed the image of the dark ship as a beacon of light emanated from it’s surface and shot towards Voyager. Before Voyager could respond, she was shaken by a burst of energy as her shields flared.

“Shields at 80%.” Kim announced.

“Paris! Maximum speed through the nebula. Get us out of here.” Tuvok said quickly. Seconds later, Voyager pivoted and flew from the black triangle. The ship accelerated instantly and matched her speed.

The bridge communicator chirped. “What the hell is going on up there!” Torres demanded. “Whatever just happened nearly drained the entire containment field! Don’t even think about going to –“

“Understood Lieutenant.” Tuvok interrupted and squinted at the viewscreen as the front of the black ship began to glow green as with the previous shot.

“Captain!” Paris began. “The dark matter pockets are too dense, and she’s handling like a pig. There’s no way we can – “

Voyager shook hard with another shot from the alien vessel. Paris’ console erupted in flames and he was flung back to the center of the bridge. Tuvok looked down at him through the thick smoke.

“Medic.” He ordered.

“Shields at 40%!” Kim announced. “Diverting power to the aft shields.”

The EMH shimmered onto the bridge. “Please state the na- AH!” He said as he looked down at Paris. He knelt down and began working. Tapping his communicator, he spoke.

“Kes,” He said pleasantly, “Please report to the bridge with a heavy trauma kit.” As he continued working, Voyager rocked hard to starboard. Tuvok looked back at Kim.

“That was no shot.” He stated as he looked at Kim.

“Correct, sir!” Kim said. “Voyager just grazed a dark matter pocket. Port nacelle is offline! Sir, if we hit one of those head-on, we won’t live to tell about about it!”

“Understood! Computer, initiate manual bridge thruster control.” As he spoke a small platform with a control stick rose beside Paris’ still bloody form. It rose to waist level and Tuvok grabbed the control stick. “Ensign Kim,” Tuvok said tersely, “Fire a photon torpedo spread aft.”

“Weapons systems offline, sir!” Kim reported. Tuvok gritted his teeth as he stared at the viewscreen. He took a deep breath as Voyager was rocked by another blast of the alien vessel.

“Ensign, project a graphic overlay of the dark matter pockets onto the viewscreen.” The view of space was dotted with several bright blue shapes representing the dark matter pockets in the nebula. Tuvok used the control stick to send the ship soaring through the nebula as it weaved its way through the pockets of deadly matter.

“Lieutenant Torres,” Tuvok winced as he tried to control the ship, “Can we boost power to the lateral thrusters, I’m having a hard time controlling the vessel.”

“Captain!” She said exasperatedly, “I can’t even hold the warp core together! Any more of this, and we won’t need to worry about lateral thrusters!”

Tuvok pursed his lips as his eyes sharpened on the viewscreen.

“Alien vessel powering weapons!” Kim shouted above the sparks coming from the console behind him. “Captain, we’re losing aft shields! Gel pack nodes 36 through 43 are destroyed, limited life support, if we don’t – oh sh-“

The ensign was interrupted as Voyager went into a fast tailspin as it clipped another dark matter pocket. Tuvok was thrown from the control stick and slammed heavily into the starboard bulkhead. Emerald blood oozed from a gash in his forehead as he slid to the floor. As he lost consciousness, his eyes caught the viewscreen. The large triangular ship rotated slightly as a green glow appeared on it’s bow…….