James was not aware of what had happened in the first moment. Awareness came later. And when it came, when he emerged from the stupor that had gripped him and began to perceive everything around him, he felt as if a support had been removed from under his feet and he was flying into some abyss. None of his companions uttered a word, but it was easy to guess that they too were experiencing something of the same or similar sensation. Oliver, with a pale as a sheet face, swallowed convulsively; Ashley covered her face with her hands. And then, suddenly, the shuttlecraft appeared before his mental sight, moving in its orbit around the planetoid, the same orbit in which what was left of the supply craft remained.

  ‘We must change the orbit,’ said he; the words were hard for him to speak. His throat was dry. ‘We risk colliding with the wreckage.’

  Ashley looked at him with a look he immediately mentally labelled as unseeing. The pause might have been a dozen heartbeats, but it seemed to James that it was endless.

  ‘What’re you saying?’ she whispered finally.

  ‘I’m saying we need to get the shuttle up higher, about five kilometres,’ James said, barely audible and even coughed.

  ‘And?’

  Only now did he realise he had no idea what to do next. It was as if a veil of darkness had fallen before his eyes. It was almost as dark as the one he had seen on the viewscreen. But on the viewscreen were stars peering through the darkness, and in this darkness, there was nothing but darkness. A feeling of panic grabbed James again. He felt exactly the same as when he saw the transport craft on his helmet’s virtual screen directly ahead of his fighter. Ashley’s next words came to him as if from far away.

  ‘We’re doomed,’ said she even not in a whisper. James read what she said by moving her lips. Dutton’s words echoed in his mind, ‘Hey, boys, try to come back alive.’ As if the Flight commander had second sight. This mission, which seemed to be a simple training flight in the beginning, turned out to be a one-way ticket…

  No! He shook his head, trying to push these thoughts out of his mind. He was a weapons systems operator here, but he was actually a fighter pilot. Could a fighter pilot ever find himself in a situation like this? No doubt, even in a worse situation, he said to himself. He was trained for it. Maybe he was not trained enough, but one day he had managed to climb out of the hole he had fallen into. Now, he had to do the same. He had to make a decision. He just had to concentrate and find it…

  The darkness before his eyes gradually cleared. He looked around. Oliver was sitting near the engineering station. His face was still pale and frozen as if the boy had fallen into a stupor. Ashley was standing next to him; her face was also pale, and she seemed trembling slightly. His head was still in turmoil, his thoughts running so fast that he could not concentrate. He shook his head again. He had to pull himself together. What had we lost, and what had we still got? We have got the shuttle, and it seems to be undamaged…

  ‘Rubbish!’ said he, surprised at the sudden harshness of his voice. ‘Stupidest thing I ever heard.’

  ‘We don’t have the long-range comms antenna,’ Ashley whispered. ‘We can’t send out a distress call,’ she continued a little louder.

  ‘What?’ he shouted. ‘For heaven’s sake, why must we send a distress call?’

  ‘Why?’ said Ashley in a barely audible voice. ‘You’re asking why? We need help!’ The last word she uttered a little more clearly.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ James replied sharply. ‘We’re alive; it’s the first,’ he continued more calmly.

  ‘We’re in a perfectly serviceable spacecraft; it’s the second, and finally the third –’

  ‘We cannot –’ Ashley began in a whisper but did not finish.

  ‘We can,’ said he firmly. ‘We’re trained to control this craft… this is the third.’

  ‘I’m not trained,’ said Ashley in a barely audible voice.

  ‘I am trained,’ James said back, even a little angrily.

  ‘What d’you suggest?’ she asked again, whispering. Or had she lost her voice completely, James thought, looking around the control room. Oliver, still pale as a sheet, sat silently near the engineering station. Looking back at Ashley, he read the fear in her eyes.

  ‘Firstly,’ he began again, ‘we must remove the shuttle to a higher orbit. Otherwise, in a couple of hours, we may encounter the wreckage of the supply craft. After that, we’ll deal with the next stage of –’

  ‘I don’t know how to move the shuttle to another orbit,’ Ashley said in a broken voice.

  ‘The artificial intelligence will do it,’ said he. ‘Say: computer, calculate the orbit parameters five kilometres above the current one.’

  ‘Computer, calculate the orbit parameters five kilometres above the current one,’ she echoed as if automatically.

  ‘Complying,’ a well-known monotonous voice came to them. James thought about how much time it could spend and what they would need to do next; the computer voice did not give him time to think his thoughts to the end.

  ‘Orbit parameters are ready,’ the artificial intelligence reported as usual monotonously and impartially.

  ‘Say, move the shuttle into the calculated orbit,’ said he, looking at Ashley. She did not seem to understand immediately, but after a pause, she repeated his words.

  ‘That procedure is not recommended,’ came the response.

  ‘Fuck!’ James blurted out. ‘Computer, report the reason.’

  ‘Your voice was not authorised,’ was heard in reply.

  ‘What the hell!’ he muttered. ‘Ah, sorry, I forgot, you’re the commanding officer of this craft.’ He turned to Ashley. ‘Say to it…’

  Now, she understood almost immediately and repeated his request to the computer.

  ‘That procedure is not recommended,’ was the response.

  ‘Repeat the order,’ said James. Ashley repeated.

  ‘That procedure is not recommended,’ the artificial intelligence replied in its usual manner.

  ‘This thing would make me mad,’ James muttered, punching his fit on the flight control console. Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind. He knows how to control a spacecraft. He said it to Ashley a couple of minutes ago himself. This shuttle was not the same as the fighter he was used to, but the principle remained the same…

  ‘Oliver!’ he called.

  There was no reaction from the boy at first. He only turned and looked at James after a few seconds.

  ‘…I need your brains,’ said James. ‘And your hands I need, too… we need,’ he corrected himself. Oliver shook his head but said nothing.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I’m…’ the boy swallowed convulsively, ‘I can’t stop thinking about it…’ his voice sounded hoarse. ‘All of them… Major Jamison, Dr Bowman, Quentin, Steve and those three from the supply craft… all of them… dead…’

  James took a deep breath and nodded after a pause.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘they’re dead. But we’re still alive. I understand you very well, but we must –’

  ‘There’s nothing we can do!’ cried Ashley, suddenly sobbing. ‘Don’t you understand?’ her voice trailed off. ‘It’s over!’

  ‘Yes,’ said James angrily. ‘Games over, as Flight Lieutenant Jennings might say. That’s right, I have no objection –’

  Ashley turned away and shook her head. Oliver said nothing. James grumbled annoyingly. ‘…First of all, he continued, ‘we have to move the shuttle onto another orbit, and I have to do it manually. I can’t control the engines from the flight control panel. Oliver, you’re at the engineering station; you can do it. You know this thing like the back of your hand, right?

  Oliver shook his head negatively.

  ‘Not this one,’ said he.

  ‘Well, you know something about it… You dig the engine system of this craft better than me, anyway, because I don’t dig it at all.’

  The boy shrugged.

  ‘Well… maybe,’ he said, seeming not very confident.

  ‘…Not maybe, but definitely,’ said James. ‘Think not dead, but alive, including yourself. I need your eyes, your brains, and your hands. Check the engine system.’

  Oliver nodded again and turned towards the workstation. He moved slowly, like a sleepwalker, but he moved nonetheless. And his gaze, as far as James could see, became more meaningful.

  There was a long pause during which James studied the flight control panel, trying to understand the control principles. He was sure he could operate his fighter’s control system with his eyes closed. Still, here he was lost among a series of unknown icons and seemingly unfamiliar words on the touchscreen panel.

  ‘All the reactor and engine systems are normal,’ Oliver reported with a sudden burst of cheerfulness.

  ‘Wonderful!’ James nodded. ‘I see the artificial gravity and life support systems are working, What’s about the long-range sensors and –’

  ‘Don’t panic,’ Oliver replied. ‘Look at the flight control station, there are two screens on the top, left and right, showing readings –’

  ‘Oh yeah, right…’ James mentally chided himself for not having figured out what he was seeing on those screens. ‘Okay,’ he continued, ‘if I enter the orbit parameters calculated by the computer, what do I do next?’

  ‘You know, what,’ Oliver said. ‘The procedure is the same as in your fighter. The problem is that I won’t be able to control all the parameters of the reactor and propulsion system from this workstation,’ he continued. ‘I’ll have to go down to the engineering bay. Someone else needs to be at the engineering workstation.’

  ‘And we know who it could be,’ James said back. ‘Ashley!’ he called, ‘You should take the engineering workstation. You know everything here, I guess?’

  ‘Huh? What? Uh… yeah,’ she replied after a pause as if waked up and then added more confidently, ‘Yes, of course…’

  ‘Great!’ James clapped his hands, much as Major Jamison had done in a similar situation. ‘Take your place. Oliver, jump to the Engineering. We must hurry…’

  He repeated these words to himself over and over again, recalling the procedures, sorting through the many programmes from which he had to choose the one that would produce the desired result. Finally, everything seemed to be ready.

  ‘Ashley!’ he called again. This time the girl reacted almost immediately and activated the intercom.

  ‘Control to Engineering, prepare to start engines…’

  ‘Engineering had been ready for a long time,’ Oliver’s cheerful voice came through. Apparently, being in a familiar environment, the boy had forgotten all his worries. He said something else, but James did not hear and focused on the control panel. He was ready to feel no movement. The main engine was supposed to fire at less than a quarter of its power. But he felt nothing. He felt nothing at all. The picture on the main viewscreen had not changed, the sensor readings on the flight control screens were the same, as was everything else he could read from the control panel.

  ‘Jimmy?’ Ashley’s voice reached him.

  ‘What the hell? he asked, unaware that she had called him by his shortened name.

  ‘Nothing’s happening,’ she said.

  ‘Impossible,’ he muttered. ‘Ask the damn computer…

  ‘Computer, why isn’t the program working?’ she said absently.

  ‘Your inquiry was not recognised,’ said the artificial intelligence.

  James looked at Ashley and she looked at him. For a moment they were both silent.

  ‘Explain,’ Ashley said loudly after about a minute.

  ‘Your inquiry was not recognised,’ the shuttle’s artificial intelligence replied in its monotonous voice.

  James exhaled and shook his head. He felt as if his feet were suddenly cold.

  ‘What’s a reason?’ Ashley said in a husky voice.

  ‘The orbit transfer in automatic mode is not recommended,’ came the response.

  Silence fell again in the control centre. Suddenly, James heard a rustling. He turned around. Oliver appeared in the entrance hatch. He opened his mouth, the boy put his finger to his lips, walked towards him, around the command chair, then handed James his tablet and gestured for Ashley to come closer.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  ‘I think I know what’s going on’, James read on the tablet screen. ‘AI blocks all our actions. I’ve no idea why.’ The last sentence was typed without separating the words and punctuation marks.

  James picked up the tablet and typed: ‘Can this thing be turned off?’

  Oliver wrinkled his forehead as if thinking, then nodded.

  ‘Thomas showed me,’ he typed, again without spaces.

  ‘But we can’t –’ Ashley began; James put his finger to his lips. ‘Do it’, he typed. Oliver nodded silently, picked up his tablet, and headed for the workstation next to the engineering.

  James could not see what he was doing at the workstation. A minute later, the boy came back to him and showed him his tablet. ‘Distractit’, James read. It was not hard to guess, he gestured to Ashley. The girl did not respond immediately but then got up and came over to him. He showed her the tablet.

  ‘Sorry, I’m –’ she began.

  ‘Give it a long, long task,’ he interrupted her. ‘Computer, I mean.’

  ‘Why?’ She looked at him puzzled.

  ‘For fun!’ he said, loudly and even somehow cheekily. She did not seem to understand right away, but then she nodded and said loudly and clearly, ‘Computer, run a full diagnostic of all systems.’

  ‘Running diagnostic,’ the artificial intelligence reported dispassionately. Oliver gave a thumbs-up and went back to doing something at the workstation.

  James did not notice how much time was passing. Only when he looked at the clock on the flight control panel, which was counting down the on-board time, did he realise with horror that the shuttle was about to complete its orbit around the planetoid and that it might turn out… It took him a while to realise that the wreckage of the supply ship had not stayed put and was also rotating in its orbit.

  ‘I’ve done it,’ Oliver’s whistling whisper reached him. He snapped out of his thoughts and turned around.

  ‘And?’

  The boy shrugged. ‘I dunno,’ he whispered. ‘I hope the commands from your workstation go through without blocking, now.’

  ‘Okay, no time to waste…’ James felt like he was running somewhere. Of course, it was just his imagination. He was not running anywhere; he was sitting at the flight control station. He just felt that if he had to act, he had to act now.

  ‘…Ashley… uh… Oliver,’ he said in a loud whisper, ‘back to your stations, we’re starting again…’

  ‘Diagnostics complete…’ the artificial intelligence voice came to him. ‘All the systems…’ Without listening further, James finished the entering programme and was going to press ‘Enter’ but stopped at the very last moment. Suddenly, it hit him. They have no need for an orbital transfer. They need a simple increase in altitude, nothing more. A craft like this has no need to use the main engines, just the manoeuvring thrusters, which provide enough impulse to lift it five kilometres above its current orbit. Damned artificial intelligence had confused them. The question of why remained to be answered later.

  James pulled out his tablet, made sure it was connected to the shuttle’s intranet, then typed: ‘Olvr stop main engin actvt manoeurn start on my comnd’. He neglected spelling and punctuation, thinking Oliver could understand it, and sent the message.

  Oliver received and understood. ‘Gotcha!’ his reply message appeared on the tablet screen.

  ‘Wonderful! Luck is waiting for us,’ James murmured and said aloud, ‘Ashley, watch the altitude.’ Out of his eye corner, he noticed the girl nodding in response. ‘Well, let’s go,’ he murmured and finally activated the programme…

  … ‘Wow!’ James was unable to contain his emotions. ‘We’ve done it!’ he shouted.

  ‘We’ve done what?’ Ashley asked, as if confused.

  ‘We tricked it,’ he whispered back.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘We tricked our super-duper intelligent artificial assistant.’

  According to the instruments on the flight control panel, the shuttle was in a new orbit, five and a half kilometres above the previous one. James realised he had miscalculated the timing of the manoeuvring thrusters. However, it did not matter much. Now, they had time to decide what to do next.

  ‘What’s next?’ Ashley’s voice came to him as if she had read his thoughts. He exhaled.

  ‘That’s a good question. I guess we’d use the launch window as suggested in the flight plan. Major Jamison said it would open forty-eight hours after we got here. More than half that time has passed. We don’t have much time to prepare. Or ’ve you got another idea?’

  Ashley shifted her eyebrows.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I mean, we have to continue according to the plan,’ he said. ‘What was our mission, remember?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, but…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Everything’s… changed,’ she said in a confused, whispered voice.

  ‘Nothing’s changed!’ he said. ‘We’ve got a mission to perform; we’ve got to carry it out. All of our cargo is already on board, am I right? So, we must deliver all those stuff to the Endurance.’

  Ashley shook her head again.

  ‘We cannot,’ said she.

  James slapped his knees in frustration, making them hurt.

  ‘Damn it!’ he cried. ‘Do you understand…? By the way, if the supply craft didn’t blow itself up but was destroyed by the enemy, shouldn’t we clear out of here before they destroy us?

  ‘They’ll catch up with us,’ Ashley said, looking at James again with the same unseeing eyes she had after the supply craft exploded. And he saw tears in them. He wanted to go to her, wanted to hug her, to hold her. But he suppressed the impulse, not knowing how she would take it.

  ‘Look,’ he said instead, ‘Imagine you’re walking down a dark street and see a guy with a knife behind. If you keep walking as you walk, there is a chance he attacks you. But if you run, there’s a chance he won’t catch up with you, right?’

  ‘Of course, Jim’s right,’ Oliver’s voice came through. James did not notice how the boy appeared in the control section. ‘Grandpa used to say that if you wanna get out of a hole, stop digging it deeper.’

  ‘Great!’ James chuckled. ‘Through the mouth of a child, the truth speaks.’

  ‘I’m not a –’ Oliver began with a note of displeasure in his voice; James waved his hand.

  ‘This isn’t about you, just a phrase,’ he said. ‘Anyway, we must try. Come on, let’s get to work. We can’t rely on our artificial assistant, okay, so let's collect all the data we can and calculate all the options. Ashley, you can pull up the return flight plan from the computer’s memory. There must be such a plan, I’m sure.’

  ‘I don’t get what that gives us?’ Ashley’s voice still sounded confused.

  ‘Rough plan of action,’ James replied.

  ‘Necessary trajectory,’ she said, ‘can only be calculated by artificial intelligence.’

  ‘Who said that?’

  ‘I am. I know…’ He heard stubborn notes in her voice. ‘There’s a difference between your fighter and a spacecraft like this. This is a very complex manoeuvre that… I don’t really understand it myself. There’s the Hohmann trajectory… I mean, transfer orbit, there’s a –’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It does!’ she shouted. ‘When used for travelling between celestial bodies, a Hohmann transfer orbit requires that the starting and destination points be at particular locations in their orbits relative to each other –’

  ‘What does the Hohmann orbit have to do with it? This shuttle is equipped with a Cooper engine –’

  ‘This is just an example,’ she said with the same notes in her voice. ‘Because all other manoeuvres in space are subject to general principles and using the Cooper engine changes nothing… Well, it changes them a little, but not drastically. Anyway, we must know the destination point. You know, where’s the Endurance is now? I don’t. Usually, the on-board AI has calculated the positions of both spacecraft in space, using its database and so on. I don’t have such sorta database in my head. And since we don’t have the long-range comms system, we can’t get data from the Endurance to calculate a destination point based on its current position and velocity.’

  What a stubborn James thought, realising that he thought about her as if with admiration and immediately tried to push away any extraneous thoughts. How a fighter pilot would act in a similar situation…

  ‘There is an astronomical programme that finds navigational stars,’ he said. ‘And there’s the programme which uses those navigational stars to calculate a trajectory. Both programmes can operate independently of our fucking artificial brain. The computer’s database stores Endurance’s original position at the time of our start and other data. Since then, they have followed the same trajectory without changing anything. We will be able to calculate the destination point… Okay, I think we can…’

  ‘You don’t understand.’ Ashley shook her head with a sad breath. ‘I’ve done scenario modelling…’

  ‘And what?’ he asked, though he had already guessed her answer.

  ‘The probability of reaching the rendezvous point with the Endurance does not exceed thirty per cent…’

  How hard these words were given to her. She almost whispered the last words with trembling lips. James again wanted to hug her, hold her, and calm her down, but he did not move.

  ‘This is the worst-case scenario?’ he said instead.

  ‘No…’ her voice wavered again. ‘This is the most optimistic. In all the others –’

  ‘…we go off course and fall into a black hole,’ he picked up, ‘we are attacked by goblins –’

  ‘Jimmy!’

  ‘We’ve got another way out?’

  ‘We’ve got no way out!’

  ‘Fucking hell!’ cried he but having come to his senses, continued a little calmly, ‘Sorry, I mean there’s a way out of every box and a solution to every puzzle.’

  ‘Did you come up with that yourself?’ she asked annoyingly.

  ‘No. Someone very wise said it,’ he replied deliberately and more calmly, trying not to succumb to this provocation.

  ‘Jimmy, I’m not joking!’ she cried.

  ‘Me too,’ he said, forcing himself to speak even more calmly. ‘It’s just a matter of finding a way out.’

  ‘We cannot!’

  He took a deep breath.

  ‘How many times today have you said that we cannot, and how many times have it turned out we can?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘…So…’ James clapped his hands. ‘That means now you and I would begin the course calculations… Okay, more you than me. When the launch window opens, you and Oliver will start the engines, and we will fly to the rendezvous point on a parabola, a hyperbola, or even a serpentine. I don’t care what it’s called. What matters is that we reach our destination!’

  ‘But if –’ she began; he stopped her by raising his hand.

  ‘Failure is not an option. This is the only way out. Otherwise, we’re dead, but I don’t want to die just yet. Oliver, do you?’

  The young technician, who had listened to the conversation in silence, shook his head negatively but said nothing.

  ‘Hey, c’mon!’ James held his hand up and clenched his fist. ‘We’re from Endurance. Our motto is…’

  He had no idea where it had suddenly come into his mind. But it suddenly worked. After a short pause, Ashley and Oliver replied simultaneously, but in sour voices, ‘By endurance we conquer!’

  ‘Make it louder!’ cried James. ‘I can hardly hear you.’

  ‘By endurance we conquer!’ By this time, they both were noticeably more upbeat.

  ‘Okay, that’s better!’ James marked his companions’ eyes brightening a little. ‘So, let’s go and try not to screw it up…’

  …He tried not to look at the numbers in the corner of the flight control panel, which counted down the seconds, minutes, and hours. Every time he wanted to look at that corner, he turned away. ‘The programme for calculating the current position… Oh yeah, I see… start-up…’ he murmured and looked around. No one seemed to hear his thoughts aloud. Ashley sat at the engineering workstation, her face set in concentration. She activated the intercom and said something. Oliver’s voice came back. James let what the boy said pass his ears and refocused on his work. The programme was quite different from the one he had been used to; he had to rack his brain to figure out what to do next…

  ‘I’m finished,’ said Ashley.

  ‘I’m done too,’ he replied. ‘Well, I think so…’

  ‘Aren’t you sure?’ she said, suddenly grinning.

  ‘I’m sure,’ he said, looking at her, ‘Launching window?’

  She turned back to the workstation again.

  ‘In two hours.’

  ‘Engine and reactor systems are normal. I ran diagnostics,’ reported Oliver, who appeared in the entrance hatch. ‘By the way, dunno about you two, but I’m starving…’ He placed several bags of dry rations on the сommander’s chair. ‘Would you like some refreshment?’

  ‘No, no, not here.’ James waved his hands. ‘Move it somewhere else. This is where the commanding officer should sit.’ He turned to Ashley again. ‘It’s time for you to take your seat.’

  The girl who had just exuded confidence was once again at a loss.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said she, shaking her head.

  ‘You’re the commanding officer,’ said James. ‘This is your chair.’

  ‘It seems you’ve been in charge so far,’ she said quietly.

  ‘I wasn’t in charge, he objected. I was just… well, the artificial brains of this flying box recognise only your voice, anyway,’ he continued after a pause.

  ‘But I’m –’ Ashley began again; he stopped her with a gesture.

  ‘You don’t have to do anything, just lead. I and Oliver will do the main work, right?’ He looked at the young technician. ‘By the way, who else but you can keep a logbook?’

  ‘Logbook?’ Ashley raised her eyebrows and looked at him in confusion.

  ‘Yes indeed. This is a spacecraft, not an exercise machine for kids.’

  ‘I don’t know how to –’

  ‘I didn’t know how to fill out all the flight documentation and other stuff, too, but I had to learn. And you will. I’ll show you for the first time. Say the computer to display the log on my workstation typescreen.’

  She did as he asked. The artificial intelligence had no objections this time. The log appeared on the small screen on the side of the flight control station. The last entry had been made the previous afternoon. Major Jamison had written about loading equipment. He typed in the date and paused, thinking that now he should probably describe what had happened, but he had no idea how to describe it.

  ‘Don’t know what to write?’ Ashley said wryly.

  ‘I know,’ he grumbled. His fingers ran over the touchpad, typing text that instantly appeared, letter by letter, on the screen,

  ESV One Crew:

  2Lt. A. Leverton, acting mission commander

  Ast1. J. Jenkins, acting mission pilot

  Spc2. O. Stubbs, acting mission flight engineer

  ‘Too short-handed crew for a mission like this,’ Ashley muttered.

  ‘Not at all,’ James smiled wryly. ‘Remember Armstrong, Auldrin… and who was the third… ah, Collins. And by the way, their mission was much, much more difficult, if only because they were the first. We’re not even second. Do you follow my mind?’

  She did not answer, just snorted. He did not understand why he suddenly felt funny. Then his gaze fell on the top line.

  ‘…Hey!’ he exclaimed. ‘I don’t like this name. ESV One? Hmm, rubbish!’

  ‘Well… that’s what it’s called,’ said Ashley. ‘Experimental Space Vessel One.’

  ‘I don’t mean the prefix,’ said he. ‘I’m about the name.’

  Ashley shrugged.

  ‘This is…’ she began, ‘I mean, it’s the first experimental –’

  ‘I see,’ James nodded. ‘But that’s not a good name for a spacecraft, is it?’

  Ashley shrugged again.

  ‘Now we are the crew of this craft…’ James snapped his fingers and continued, ‘We can give it a name. I suggest… I suggest we name it… after Dr Bowman… Any objections?’

  Ashley said nothing, Oliver, too.

  ‘…no objections. Great!’ James reached for the keyboard again and corrected the top line: ESV Bowman crew…

  …Two hours later, all three were back together in the shuttle’s command centre. Pre-start preparations had been completed. James looked at the main viewscreen, where the shadow of the planetoid around which the shuttle was making its final turn was slowly creeping. ‘The final turnaround if everything works out’, he thought, and said aloud, ‘I think we forgot something.’

  ‘Forgot what?’ Ashley asked.

  ‘We forgot to say goodbye.’

  There was no need to explain whom to say goodbye to. Everyone understood without a word.

  ‘I don’t know how,’ said the girl. ‘I never did it.’

  ‘Who did?’ Oliver put in. ‘I didn’t, too.’

  ‘As well as I,’ said James and took a deep breath. ‘Should be a procedure, but… Well, I’ll do it. As best I can. If He is somewhere, He… and if he isn’t… er… doesn’t matter…’

  He took another deep breath to gather his spirits and stood up from his seat. Ashley and Oliver stood up almost simultaneously, as if on cue.

  ‘…We gather here to remember our friends and colleagues,’ he began slowly, feeling the words hard to say, ‘who have now joined our Father in Heaven: Rebecca Jamison, Major; Dr David Bowman, Chef Flight Engineer; Quentin Fournier, Lieutenant; Stephen Woolverton, Astronaut… First Class…’

  Steve’s face appeared before his eyes, and the way Steve looked at him seemed reproachful to James. He flinched and did not immediately realise he was still saying, ‘…Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as in heaven. Give us today our daily bread. Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours for ever and ever. Amen.’

  ‘Amen,’ echoed Ashley and Oliver.

  Silence reigned in the control centre for a while, broken only by the instruments ‘singing’.

  James saw Steve’s face before his eyes again, moving slowly into the shadow of the planetoid, only then realising that he was looking directly at the main viewscreen. He exhaled.

  ‘Okay, folks, take a look at this space body. Let’s hope we don’t see it again. Grab your workstations, let’s get started…’

  His command was promptly obeyed. He made himself comfortable in the chair before the flight control station and put his hands on the touchpad.

  ‘Now comes the main and hard part,’ he said. ‘I have to orient the shuttle. I can do it with the manoeuvring thrusters, but I won’t be able to fire the main engine at the right moment. We can’t rely on artificial brains, and I don’t wanna hear that it’s unable to comply and other balderdash. Ashley, you’ll have to do it from the engineering station. We need to get into position for acceleration mode. There’s going to be quite a bit of overload. Am I making clear?’

  ‘Pretty much,’ Ashley said. Oliver nodded silently.

  ‘Okay…’ James took a few deep breaths. ‘Let’s do it…’

  He had thought this was their last chance, and if they failed, the only way left was to depressurise the shuttle and turn into a frozen corpse. The Flying School instructor’s words came to mind. The instructor had once told them what would happen if a spacesuit was depressurised in space. Shaking his head, he tried to push those thoughts away. He had to concentrate on what he was doing right now; that was the most important thing; everything else had no meaning.

  He made sure he was securely strapped into his seat. Then he turned around, relieved that Ashley and Oliver had also prepared themselves for acceleration mode. He took a couple of deep breaths again to calm himself down and to concentrate and said, licking his parched lips, ‘All hands stand by,’ starting the manoeuvring thrusters.

  The navigation grid on the vewscreen before him slowly shifted in the direction he wanted. He exhaled in relief and took air into his lungs again.

  ‘…Ashley, on my command…’ At the last moment, his voice trailed off and came out hoarse. The navigation grid crept across the screen too slowly, and it took him a moment to notice that the red colour had changed to green. ‘…Let’s go!’