Foreign Horizon

Foreign Horizon

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. A barren abyss endlessly beckoning those brave enough, or unfortunate enough, to look up towards her. A lifeless landscape randomly dotted with beauty and terror alike. As calm as the surface of a Koi pond and as violent as the roaring rapids of white water. The Sky, Space, Galaxy, The Universe they all mean one of two things. To those content with their surroundings and there heads bowed down they mean the unknown, the dark dam that keeps us safe and planted here on Earth. But to those who are cursed to dream of the unknown marvel that the darkness hanging over our heads holds, they represent boundless possibility and opportunity.

Endless stars circled by endless planets holding endless discoveries lying in wait. Plants whose chemicals have extraordinary effects on the body and mind or can cure diseases. The beauty of new natural wonders that dwarf even Olympus Mons on Mars or the Grand Canyon on Earth are waiting to be marked by the human race. And most importantly, civilizations, new and old, primitive or advanced, unknowingly eager to make contact with beings from another side of the universe, something that has yet to happen. These are the reasons that so many people have ventured towards the edges of Human capability and pushed the boundaries of our little civilization further and further out.

The ones who dream of whats out there, the ones who dream of ways to get there, and the one who dreams to go there are the ones of who are known to the history of mankind as pioneers and heroes. They have done magnificent and implausible things. Developed new technologies, discovered new methods of propulsion, circumvented even the laws of physics to get us to where we are now. No time before has the Human race advanced its technolgy and its reach into the great unknown so rapidly. Less than 200 years ago mankind used liquid fuel to send the first man to our moon. Now using antimatter fueled fusion reactor engines in the year 2117, we have conquered most of our own solar systems and are quickly advancing into the far reachs of our galaxy. But all these advancements did not come without their failures. Thousands of souls have perished in pursuit of these discoveries and thousands more will. But that does not stop those who are cursed to dream of taking the many new jobs that have been created in this new era. Some of these jobs can promise grand rewards and while other jobs promise mostly danger and discomfort. However most of the time these jobs offer both.

So, why am I here? The grand rewards? I guess thats why we all do it. Rsiking life, limb, and reputation for some amazing goal. The only difference between us up here is what that shining goal is. Wealth. Thats a popular one. Billions of credits to be made amongst the stars. Flying, driving, mining, mopping…killing, everything has its price. Some higher than others. If theres any reason to chase a dream in space money is bottom of the barrel. Others chase power. At least that has an impact, although most of it is corrupted along the way. Power here grants a lot of things; influence, wealth, sometimes popularity, but its a fleeting possession. New names rising up through the ranks of society everyday eagerly jumping at the chances to jetteson anybody in their way. You have to watch you back when trying to have gravity in space. Recognition is noble goal if, like power, it is pursued for the right reasons. Recoginized by your friends, family, boss, society, or mankind, it is all the same. Wanting to prove that you are a positive to society, that you fit in or belong. Or that you are great not because of who you are or what you have but what you have done. I suppose thats where I belong. At least I hope.

Cursed. That seems like the word for it. Forever dreaming of whats out there. Of discovering new and great things. Finding glory in being a pioneer…recognized as a pioneer. But that easier said than done especially today. When civilization advances so fast pushing farther and farther out its hard to remain in the front, at least without selling out. I could be at the front. Flying Reapers or learning to command Galactics but that does not come without its costs. Only signing contracts, lifelong contract, with large corporations grants you access to those and selling my soul for another mans credit does not sound like a fair trade. Especially when those “men” are the same ones corrupting this frontier. Pillaging it for profit forgoing whatever was left of the dreams of discovery. My parents sold out and it cost them everything.

My parents were pilots. More specifically they were amazing pilots. But they flew for Zedrock Corp. They speciallized in flying the Vestro Sunbeam. A ultra high speed ship that is used to shoot lasers that guide Zedrock’s mining equipment down to unwilling planets and astroids. It was a dangerous job. Flying at 10 miles per second having to keep a laser pointed in an exact spot to ensure proper ground contact. They were one of the only ones who could do it. Until they couldn’t. When Zedrock started to ignore signs of wear on their planet mining equipment in order to maximize profit accidents started to happen. Starting small with equipment failing to drill at impact to culminating to a planet sized explosion that sent my parents scorching into the upper atmosphere of MX-1145 at 25 miles per second. Friends of my parents assured me that at those speeds and with the dense atmosphere of the dwarf planet that they died in a flash of light. Zedrock assured me that it was pilot error. Most people understand my reason for not selling out. But they sometimes don’t understand why I followed in my parents footsteps to become a…

A loud siren crashs my mind back into reality. “Finally,” I say. It was the alert siren signifying that everyone in the dock should clear the blast area behind my main engine. Clearance had been approved and it was launch time. “Alright, starting engine checklist.” I tap the screen built into my suit on my thigh twice lighting it up. I open the first tab, labeled Cessna Starhawk Checklists, and begin. “Master switch on,” energy stored in the generators surge into the cockpit as I flip a small red switch on my left. All the screens, switches and gauges instantly come to life. “Antimatter deviation full,” I turn an orange dial 360 degrees clockwise and I immediately start to hear a moderate whine come from behind me inside the engine. “Fuel cells primed,” I pump a mechanical lever above my head three times pushing antimatter plasma into the main cells, priming them for ignition.”Throttle 25 percent,” I push the two levers in the throttle assembly to my right a quarter of the way up slightly opening the fuel cell valves. “Strobes on,” I flip three small black switches to my right lighting up the multiple lights around my ship alerting everyone of my intent to ignite. “Ignition.” I push my thumb into a red button infront of me and then steadily start pulling the throttle levers back down to 10 percent. In an instant the whining from the engine erupts into a loud burning roar as my engine ignites and exhaust rushes towards the rear. “Hell yeah. Engine start checklist done.”

“Last bit, Takeoff Checklist.” I swipe across the screen bringing up the next, smaller, list of items to check. “Rocket breaks.” I pick my feet up several inches and press them into a set of pedals slightly igniting different sets of small rocket ports around the ship. I turn my head around in all directions in order to see the different sets of ports ignite in small bursts as I compress my feet on separate spots on the pedals. “Rocket breaks, Check. Flight controls.” I grab the stick in front of me with my left hand and pull it between my legs. Once its locked in I started pulling and pushing on it as I watch unique control surfaces and ports start to move. “Flight controls clear. Okay; clearance obtained, flight plan filed, blast area clear, yea yea yea… Lets go.” Only left to do is the radio call out. “ Intergalactic Station this is Hotel-Romeo-One-Zulu-November flying a Cessna Starhawk from the Galactic Research Station to planet ER-347 heading 27 by 265 by 176 degrees.” After a couple long seconds the radio sounds off with a another voice. “Hotel-Romeo-One-Zulu-November this is IGS, flight plan received clearance still approved you are cleared for present heading and destination,” the man says. “Cleared present heading and destination, thank you,” I state back. Even after 1200 hours doing this I still have to hold back the excitement in my voice when finally cleared but now I was all alone and ready to go.

I push my body back firmly into my seat anticipating the instant G load when I throttle up. Gripping the stick and throttles firmly I drop my feet from the breaks and push throttle 50 percent. The roar from the engines explodes yet again as the fuel cells are filled and the antimatter compounds start to tear each other apart within. Exhaust floods the dock as my ship bursts out of the bay like a horse out of a stall and into space. After several seconds the force on my body starts letting off as acceleration begins to fall but not for long as I quickly begin pushing the throttles slowly forward to 75 percent, best fuel burn rate. As my speed climbs I follow the gauges on my dashboard display doing my normal call outs. “Pressures in the green, speed alive, engine flow even.” After about 30 seconds, as my engine and speed level out, the muscles in my body start to release as the G’s drop to 1 and I can relax. After another minute passes and my cruise checklists are done I do another radio call out.I say “,IGS this is HR1ZN I am at cruise speed and heading,” as I enter my destination coordinates into my navigation panel. After several short seconds a man come back with, “HR1ZN this is IGS cleared to destination with flight following out to 500,000 miles, after that visual flights rules apply.” I eagerly reply, “cleared to destination, VFR after 500,000 miles, good day.”

Now it was time to just sit back and wait as my navigation equipment took me most of the rest of the way. A couple hours of staring at the stars and I would be there. This was my second favorite part about flying, after only high speed flights through asteroid fields of course. But relaxing and imagining what was out there that was a definitely a close second. My parents would always say, “theres no better way to travel and no better place to be than flying towards the most promising thing to exist, the horizon.” I suppose that is why they named me after it, “Horizon.”