“I gotta warn ya,” Wilson began to confide, “the team isn’t exactly feeling the love for your robot friend.”
“Why’s that?” Craig asked, his eyebrow cocked inquisitively.
“Don’t get me wrong, Doc. These men are pros all the way, but the addition of a robot that specializes in heavy trauma suspended animation body bags doesn’t exactly fill anybody with confidence.”
“I understand,” Craig replied. “I’ll speak to the team about it.”
“I think they’d appreciate that,” Wilson replied as they entered the shade of the hangar, the temperature immediately dropping to a relieving degree.
Several feet away, in the shadow of
Wilson returned their salute and addressed his team. “SOLO Team Three, this is Captain Emilson. He is our newest and highest-ranking team member!”
“Sir!” the three other members shouted in unison. Each man had been in the process of putting their SOLO suits on. Craig had never seen a SOLO suit before and was amazed at their intricacy. They were black, though the material had a brilliant sheen. Lining the suit appeared to be some sort of metal exoskeleton, the likes of which Craig had never seen, even during his days training at a DARPA facility with Robbie. The boots were reminiscent of those worn by astronauts on the moon, as were the gloves. He shook himself back into the moment and saluted the team.
“At ease. As I said to the commander, from now on, please don’t salute me. Refer to me simply as ‘Doc.’ I am here to learn from you and support you. I defer to each of you from this point forward.”
The men relaxed, and Wilson took Craig over to meet the team members individually.
“The assistant officer in charge on this mission is Lieutenant Commander Weddell,” Wilson said as he put his hand on the shoulder of a thin, but strong-looking young man.
Weddell appeared to be no older than twenty-five, and his face was fresh, but there was something in his eyes that revealed the confidence of experience. Craig couldn’t help but consider for a moment what a young man such as Weddell would be doing if WWIII hadn’t broken out. Would he be an accountant? A lawyer? A school teacher?
“It’s good to meet you, Doc,” Weddell said with a smile as he shook Craig’s hand.
“Likewise,” Craig replied, returning the smile.
Wilson turned to the other two members of the team. “These are Lieutenants Klein and Cheng.”
Craig shook the hands of both men, each of whom looked equally as unassuming as Wilson and Weddell. He felt he could just as easily have been walking into a PTA or neighborhood watch meeting. He’d expected giant, muscle-bound men, but instead he was meeting a group of highly trained, highly specialized regular Joes.
Klein’s and Cheng’s eyes fell on Robbie, each man sharing identical expressions of tentativeness.
“Listen, fellas,” Craig began to address the team, “the robot is here as an insurance policy, that’s all. His presence doesn’t reflect on the Joint Chiefs’ evaluation of your chances of coming back alive.”
“With all due respect,” Klein replied, “how do you know that? I mean, we’ve all been through this crap before, but we’ve never had our own personal robotic undertaker along for the ride.”
Craig’s spine stiffened with surprise at Klein’s morbid analogy. He smiled and shook his head. “Nah, it’s not like that, Lieutenant. Look. This is brand new technology. The only reason these robots aren’t included on every mission is because they just came online. When I started my training with Robbie here,” Craig continued, gesturing toward the robot, “it was still in the testing phase. He’s here because you guys are VIPs, not R.I.P.s, okay?”
Klein nodded. “Yeah, understood, Doc.,” he replied. “It’s all good.”
Craig felt he could detect dubiousness in Klein’s tone, hidden deep beneath the highly trained professionalism.
“I understand you haven’t been briefed on this mission yet, Doc,” Wilson stated.
“That’s right,” Craig replied, his eyes on the extraordinarily advanced gear that the team members were assembling. “Everything’s top secret. I got a one-page order to join your team for the mission. I don’t know anything else about it.”
Wilson put his hand on Craig’s shoulder and walked him a few paces away from the team as he lowered his voice. “I’ve got orders to brief you en route, Doc. And let me just say that when you hear the details, I don’t think you’re gonna be so confident about the whole R.I.P. thing.”
6
Commander Wilson broke it as a computer-generated map of the Earth, complete with
Craig smiled broadly, the notion that he was on a spaceship finally beginning to sink in. Millionaires had been able to travel into space in the years before the war broke out, but regular people like him could only dream of such an experience. As serious as the moment was, the idea of traveling into space temporarily made the danger disappear from his mind.
“The distance from New Mexico to Shenzhen,” Wilson continued, “is approximately 12,300 kilometers, so even at three times the speed of sound, the flight’s still gonna take us three hours—plenty of time for me to brief you on the mission.”
“Sounds good, Commander,” Craig replied.
“For now, just sit back and enjoy the ride,” Lieutenant Commander Weddell added.
Craig turned to the other members of his team, each one smiling. The shared look on their faces was childlike ebullience, thinly veiled behind adult professionalism. It was clear that, despite their personal sacrifices, their loved ones left behind at home, and the mortal danger of the mission, it was all worth it in that moment. These were men slipping the surly bonds of Earth.
“Detach in one minute,” said the calm, even tone of
“Roger that,” replied the equally calm tone of
“Roger that,” echoed Commander Wilson. He turned to his team. “Okay, boys, helmets on and hold on to your butts.”
Craig and the others slipped their helmets on and locked them into position, lowering the golden sun- reflective visors.
“Detach in thirty seconds,” the
“Roger that,”
“Crap your pants in thirty-one seconds,” Lieutenant Cheng said in a low voice.
“Radio silence,” Wilson said calmly.
“Roger that,”
