[continues from A Tour of the City.]
"Greenwich Control, this is Skyhook, please respond."
"Captain, we're still getting no signals from any ground station."
"Vladstock Control, this is Skyhook, please respond."
"Alright, sound the alarum bells. Let's see if anyone's there."
For a moment, no one breathes.
"Mayday, mayday. This is Skyhook Station. We are in an unstable orbit, and require immediate assistance. If you can hear us, please respond. Mayday, mayday."
The rest of the crew gather around the view ports, staring at the vista unfolding below them.
The Skyhook Stations were designed to be the anchors to a massive engineering effort to reduce the cost of orbital launch vehicles. In the simplest terms, because they sit in a stable low orbit, they can pull other things up to them like a winch, given a cable of sufficient strength. Whether or not the scientific principles were sound, the idea of a multitude of small, stable, manned orbital platforms that can exchange personnel and equipment among themselves, were far more attractive to private businesses than a single huge expensive space station that would become the focus of international dispute. So, the Skyhooks were built. Each of the twenty stations can hold ten crew, and are efficient, and pleasant places to work for reasonably long periods of time. They're not research stations, but working stations, designed to repair and refuel extra-orbital vessels, as well as being designed as way-stations for the passengers and cargo winched along the macro-polymer ceramic cable connecting it to the ground far, far below.
What they are not designed for is safe manned re-entry, or for orbit above what appears to be an infinite plane.
"So, what are we looking at down there?"
"I can detect no consistent curvature. Yes, there appears to be a horizon, but it twists rather than curves. We're maintaining a constant distance above the ground, but it can't be described as any kind of orbit I know of. We're passing over terrain, but despite being up here for two weeks, we've never seen the same geography twice."
"So we can't just cross our fingers and hope we stay up?"
"For all we know, the station could decide to shoot straight up, and we might impact in a loop of a mobius strip."
"Captain, there's another issue. Our supplies are running thin."
"Okay, our only way off the station is the cable-car or the emergency life-boats. The problem with the life-boats are that they're really only to allow escape to other orbital stations or ships. So, all that's left is the cable-car."
"The cable's not even deployed, there's no dirt-side anchor."
Again, there is quiet.
"We're royally flushed, aren't we?"
"Mayday, mayday. This is Skyhook Station. If anyone can hear us, please respond. Mayday, mayday."
[This part continues from Tour of the City]
Past the Walk, the hall opens into the vastness of the Legion's Command Center. Here, the ultra-intelligent computer known as the Menace Monitor keeps tabs on threats to the safety of the good people of Hero City.
*BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... BEEP...*
The Monitor springs to life with a flashing of lights and a whirring of tape drives. There's danger afoot, and the call goes out.
A call answered by the square-jawed, raven-haired hero who now strides into the Command Center, resplendent in his tights and cape of dark green and silver. The stylized green eagle's head in the silver triangle emblazoned the man's broad chest stares boldly out at the world, tirelessly seeking out evil.
The man looks up at the cyclopean tele-screen of the Menace Monitor. "Trouble, MM?" he asks in his deep baritone.
A horizontal black line appears across the Monitor's blue screen, spiking into jagged peaks and valleys as the computer gives its report in its cold metallic whine.
"DISTRESS... SIGNAL... RECEIVED... FROM... ORBITAL... VEHICLE..."
"Let's have a listen, Monitor."
[Ailean wrote:]
> "Mayday, mayday. This is Skyhook Station. If anyone can hear us, please
> respond. Mayday, mayday."
"Good work, Monitor. I'm on the case!"
He whirls about with a swish of his cape, running down the Walk and out onto the steps of the Hall. Staring up into the clear blue sky, his Eaglevision quickly locates the endangered craft.
The man's mighty brow furrows in concern. "Hang on, men," he whispers. "Help is on the way.
"THIS looks like a job for... THE EMERAAAALD EAGLE!!"
The Eagle hurtles skyward with a single bound, his nimbus of energy leaving an emerald afterglow in his wake. He reaches Skyhook Station in mere minutes, matching its speed in order to "hover" before its main viewport, arms akimbo.
"Good afternoon, gents," he says with that reassuring smile, his voice carrying effortlessly through both vacuum and viewport. "In need of assistance?"
Ten people blink simultaneously. "Errr...."
"Ahhh..."
"Check me on this one, we are still in orbit, right?"
"Yes, Captain, we are."
"Has anyone checked for atmosphere outside recently?"
"Yesterday."
Captain Mary Neal of the United Nations Unified Air Force just shakes her head, "Oh." Addressing the stranger... than most... outside the station, Mary sighs, "Forgive us for our apparent stupidity, sir. Please come inside. There is a one-person airlock one deck below this viewport to your right."
The Eagle nods. "Thank you, ma'am," he says, offering her a jaunty two-fingered salute. "I'll be aboard in two shakes." He vanishes downward in an emerald blur.
With that, she turns to one of her officers, "And full airlock cycle, please. He may be able to live in space, but I doubt he'd enjoy a compression wave hitting him at one atmosphere."
Josh Campbell, civilian aerospace engineer, gives a loud huh, "Given his costume, I'll give you odds on that one."
*****
The Emerald Eagle strides out of the airlock, emerald bootheels clicking on the steel floor. He smiles and offers an emerald-gloved hand to his hosts. "Thank you for having me aboard. Emerald Eagle's the name.
"We received your S.O.S., so I thought I'd come up to see if I might lend a helping hand. Stranded, are you?"
Do not copy or quote the above material
without the consent of the owner of this page.