Live it....love it.....be it.... Augment available @goo.gl/cDjkhs for .99 *** Hopkins watched the large screen in the common area. It was tied to a real time feed off the polar satellite, split from a slave transmission from the hopper. “Hopkins.” Hopkins keyed the ambient mike. “Hopkins here.” “You getting both transmissions?” “I’m getting good image off the NAVSAT and your hopper.” A blast of static filled the dome. “eeh of th eagl” “Say again. You’re breaking up.” “Can you bring the Beagle up on the NAVSAT?” “Hold one.” Hopkins typed in the Beagle’s position. A crystal clear resolution long shot of the Beagle came up on the NAVSAT’s half of the screen. “Got it.” “Good. Wait one.” ** Hopkins paced. The rendezvous flight plan had been downloaded from earthside two hours earlier. It was to bring the Beagle within ten meters. Then Sundersen and Fishman would evac in hardsuits and transfer into the Beagle. “Hopkins.” “Hopkins here.” “Transfer the telemetry.” The Priest stood and looked at the enter key. A thin film of sweat broke out over his body. “Hopkins. Still no joy on the transmission.” Saying a silent prayer, the Jesuit pressed the key. “Transmitting. Now.” He stood and watched the bar grow across the screen indicating the progress. “Transmission complete.” “Copy that. You got both us and the Beagle on screen?” “Wait one.” Hopkins expanded the satellite’s parameters to bring both the Beagle and hopper into view. The feed showed both. At that distance, they were indistinguishable. Hopkins brought up an indicator that highlighted both ships. “Got both onscreen.” “Good.” ** “We still got some pitch and yaw control,” Sundersen said. “I am going to start the run.” Sundersen punched in the commands that brought the Beagle to life. Hopkins could see the cursor move on his screen. “Beagle active,” Fishman said from his console. ** A burst of propellant escaped from the port side of the Beagle as the craft spun in a slow rotation, turning a full one hundred and eighty degrees. On the bridge only the nav screen was active, a plot to the hopper was laid out in a blue line. The Beagle’s red track was superimposed on the blue. “What do you got it closing at, Fish?” “Moving at ten meters a second.’ “What’s it’s heading?” “Dead on for intercept” Sundersen exhaled. “You know Fish, we might just make it out of this alive.” ** Hopkins watched the cursor indicating the Beagle closing in on the hopper with sick dread in his stomach. He had never felt more helpless. ** “What you got it closing at now? Fishman’s brow furrowed. “I got it at double last rate.” “Double? Are you sure?” “Look for yourself.” Sundersen leaned over to see Fishman’s readout. “Man. That ain’t right. Hopkins copy.” “Hopkins.”
Posted on: Fri, 17 Oct 2014 14:07:55 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015