The 5201st Rocket

[originally intended to serve as a little side-story to a greater sci-fi novel I wanted to write. Maybe one day I'll use all the pieces and finish writing the novel but for now, it's all that really came out of the novel experiment]

It was the end of 1965 and Strike Force Seven flew high above the Earth, the clouds moving slowly below like immense titans as the humanoid shaped space-crafts streaked through the upper atmosphere. As a child, he’d deciphered the patterns of clouds into shapes with meaning but to Commander Hannibal Smith, clouds now represented cover, subterfuge, shielding in a dogfight. But today was not going to be a dogfight in high atmosphere. Today was an assignment.

The human shaped crafts climbed higher, the cold air roaring around them - Orbital Suits, NATO’s humanoid mechanised frame, capable of flight, fight, and orbital combat, and as the giant humans tilted to bank higher on the orbit path, the radio crackled.

“Commander, Iroguchi reporting ahead. I think I spot the target” a male oriental voice spoke, thickly accented English breaking the silence of space.

“Hah” laughed Klein over the radio, his frame speeding slightly ahead “We’ve found it…it’s late”

“Only a week late, orbit prediction was probably off” replied Iroguchi

“Commander, we’re supposed to destroy this?” said Snowden over the radio.

“No way idiot, take a demolition crew to do that” Klein pointed out, his Orbital suit speeding upwards to meet Iroguchi in his scouting position. Hannibal flicked a switch inside the cockpit.

The target’s wireframe model appeared on the left most monitor, a green monochrome thing that began flashing as it drew the schematic. The Commander looked over as they climbed higher into the atmosphere, scratching his head with confusion. It was a lot larger than he thought and as the Commander glanced over it he frowned; he reassured himself with the memory of him failing high school mathematics too many times.

Commander Hannibal Smith rubbed his shoulder as the straps of the craft dug into him. The cockpit was cramped, covered in large monitors and controls, the plexiglass viewport illuminated by small interior lights. He sighed, and then spoke into his helmets microphone.

“Supposedly, we are. Don’t rush ahead, we’re due to receive final orders from Flight Control in about a minute or two. Hold positions, Iroguchi, keep eyes on that V2”

“Roger” everyone replied over the radio and Commander Smith attempted to scratch his head, the plexiglass of his helmet getting in the way. He sighed loudly as the Orbital Suit shook violently in the upper stages of atmosphere. Snowden whooped loudly as they pierced the sky, Iroguchi chuckling at the hillbilly.

“Like a kid at Christmas”

Silence now. No rushing air, no shaking. The Orbital Suits broke into space, and the thrusters began putting in work. Their target was one of the many V2 missiles that the Nazi’s had launched into orbit and had malfunctioned during World War Two. NATO was keenly interested in these missles that floated around in orbit and teams would receive orders to intercept these missiles. What was inside the missiles was on a need to know basis and they did not need to know.

As the Orbital Suits climbed the orbit path higher, adjusting thrust, the radio beeped twice indicating a message from Control.

“Strike Force Seven, this is Flight Control speaking, please acknowledge”

“Commander Hannibal Smith, Strike Force Seven, reporting”

“Your orders have been redacted and you will be receiving new orders, please stand by”

The Commander paused, his face blank with a sort of indifferent surprise “…awaiting orders Control”. This was the third time Strike Force Seven had been called up to intercept a V2 missile, and they were beginning to quietly hate these duties; everyone was quietly hating it except Iroguchi.

“This is bullshit.” He said after a long silence as they awaited orders

Snowden sighed on the microphone “Hiro, no…”

“No this is bullshit. We always get these duties, interception sucks” replied Iroguchi

“Rather this than be assigned to the Eastern Line, you see the shit that happened in Tallinn?” Snowden said, whistling at the end. Hannibal cleared his throat

“Iroguchi, might just be a different set of co-ordinates and I hate to admit but Snowden is right, Eastern Line, patrol; it all sucks. We all gotta eat shit sometime” Hannibal leaned back into the stiff chair.

Klein laughed “Trust me, we don’t want to be at war with the Russians. They dominate land and sea, we dominate skies and space. It’s a 50-50 split. I’d take interception any day.”

Iroguchi guffawed, a sarcastic short laugh “Someone else should be doing this. Recruits, not us. We’re supposed to be running recon over Murmansk right not, or doing a fly by sweep of Vladivostok but here we are. Interception duty again”

Double beeps on Commander Smith’s line, he sighed and spoke into the group channel

“Shut it, we’re getting orders”

“Finally” muttered Iroguchi to which the Commander grumbled on the microphone “Sorry Commander”

Hannibal answered the comms line from Flight Control and spoke into the microphone, staring out into space through the plexiglass cockpit window. “Control?"

“You have new orders Commander. Your group is NOT to destroy the V2 missile currently in orbit around Earth, but instead stop the missile and move it into higher orbit. Retrieval Craft Helena will rendezvous with you after V2 5201 is safe. Do not attempt to open or disable the missile in any way. This missile is crucial to the preparedness of the NATO forces”

This time Commander Hannibal Smith was surprised, a look of confusion on his face this time “Wait… the missile? Or the information on it? We can get you the information Control, just like we always do, interface with it an-“

“Negative Commander, we want the rocket intact. Do not tamper with it in any way. Do not open it or damage it. V2 Model 5201 is critically important to High Command. You will bring it back in one piece, undamaged, understood?”

“…Understood, Commander Smith out”

Silence on the radio. Confusion. They’d stopped hundreds of missiles but usually retrieval crews would come to meet with them in orbit. To catch a missile so close after being intercepted meant something was dead wrong.

Snowden was the first to speak “The fuck is THIS about?”

Klein made a noise indicating he didn’t know “Probably something to do with research. In Operation Paperclip, they stole a bunch of scientists like Von Braun, maybe this V2 is special”

“Look at this…the boy likes history” laughed Snowden

Iroguchi sighed “I think we could all do with some history lessons Simon”

Snowden gave a short laugh “Well you might be right Isaac, you were right about that girl in the barracks the other day”

“What did she say?” asked Klein

“Fuck off Simon, is what she said” and all three laughed at Snowden’s continued string of bad luck with female pilots. Even Hannibal chuckled quietly.

“Simon Snowden, never any luck with the ladies” remarked Hannibal stating the obvious.

“Yeah, more luck than you, or Iroguchi” replied Snowden and Iroguchi made a noise before replying.

“I get more than you ALL think” and they all laughed again.

“Mysterious muthafucker Iroguchi. Crazy oriental man” giggled Snowden.

Klein tutted “Still doesn’t answer the question. I agree with Snowden, what is this about? When we retrieve these things, crews come some 20-40 hours after an interception. Whatever is in this rocket must be priority shit.”

Hannibal shrugged, despite no one being able to see it “I don’t know men, let’s just do our part for US of A. We do our job, no questions asked. I keep quiet, and so do you…climb the orbit path marked by Control”

The four Orbital Suits engaged thrusters and began to climb the orbit path higher, the information changing from low earth orbit to geosynchronous before curving into a high orbit as they began to prepare to intercept the missile at the peak of their path. They’d have one shot here, and another further on at the low point of the orbit; the high point was the apoapsis and the low point was the periapsis. Control wanted this done at the apoapsis, failure was not an option.

As they continued to curve around Earth, the United States below was covered in darkness as December 31st began to tick over slowly. Somewhere below, people were meeting friends in Times Square for celebrations or walking down suburban streets to a house party, or isolated quiet celebrations in the rural areas barely lit by the spider webs of cities. They were entering 1966 unaware of the goings on above their heads, the paths of satellites crossing fast and the four Orbital Suits speeding to intercept lost Nazi technology.

Hannibal could barely see the missile approaching, a blinking white light of reflected sunlight the only indication that anything was coming towards them.

Snowden’s voice came across the radio “So Commander, any idea what caused the blackout on Visionary?” and Hannibal made a noise of confusion

“Visionary?” Iroguchi laughed at Hannibal’s bewildered tone

“L4 Sir, Visionary is…slang used to describe it” Iroguchi paused after saying that “Cause…you know, requisitioned space hotel…it doesn’t matter…when I say it like that, it sounds pretty stupid”

Hannibal cleared his throat “Well, as much as you all tend to disagree with Control, I reckon they were right on this one. Sabotage”

Snowden scoffed as they climbed up through orbit “Really? There’s a Soviet spy aboard the Visionary?”

“Of course there is Simon, sleeper agents gotta be in here somewhere. We probably got our own double agents working on the Soviet side” remarked Klein “It’s a shame, the real enemy was inside the base, not outside.”

“Why did they cut the power?” Snowden asked, and Hannibal leaned forward, wishing he could scratch his head under the helmet.

“Well, aside from it being just general sabotage, there had to have been some kind of…greater goal. The point wasn’t to cut the power kid, it was to watch us turn the power back on. The base’s auto-computer turns on the most critical areas first, then prioritizes which areas receive power first. They used to pull tricks like that back in Guadalcanal when I served in World War Two, they’d cut our undersea power cord and then watched as we restored the power. We had to randomize it, turning off and on…” Hannibal almost began to think of those sweaty days again. “You can learn a shitload about the layout of a place and what’s important to them by how and when they turn the lights on”

Two loud shrill beeps were echoing through the radio “Missile coming into our operational area” said Iroguchi over the comm channel.

“Alright everyone, thrusters off, activate magnetic clamps. We will grab the missile and pull it into a higher orbit, then call for Retrieval” spoke Hannibal Smith into the helmet microphone, pulling his feet from the thruster pedals.

The Orbital Suits floated fast towards the missile, velocity unhindered by space. The V2 missile was a black and white checkerboard pattern, large fins angled behind it in a style Hannibal had seen copied now in science fiction movies. Although it floated lazily, pointed outwards at an odd angle, the cockpit’s inbuilt scanner said it was moving somewhere around 20 kilometres a second in relation to the Earth’s surface.

“Okay everyone, ready your magnetic hand clamps”

The missile was speeding closer, its checkerboard pattern spinning slowly. The four Orbital Suits began to break apart in order to get better positions to circle around it.

“Five…four…three…two…one…go”

Hannibal pushed his frame forward slowly, the missile filling his vision as he stretched his hands out in giant rubber gloves, the mechas real hands moving forward to clamp onto the surface.

The magnetic clamps inside the hands clung to the surface and the Commander felt the fast moving inertia of the rocket begin to pull him backwards. Loud thumps echoed through his hands, a slightly rumble.

“Iroguchi clamped”

“Snowden, clamped here”

“Klein, clamped, at a bit of an angle though, let me adjust…”

The four frames were arrange neatly around the missile, Klein’s frame detaching a hand as it shuffled itself around on the missiles side. Commander Hannibal Smith noticed that this was a larger V2 than any he had seen in the history books and wondered about the wireframe, the calculations, the mission. He put those thoughts from his mind as he took control of his team

“Okay…prepare to engage thrusters, we have to bring this thing to a halt…okay….on my word”

The radar bleeped quietly, Hannibal looked over to his right hand side to see five fast moving red dots moving fast from a Low Earth Orbit.

“Commander, you picking this up?” said Snowden

'Fuckin Ruskies" swore Klein. "Goddamn fuckin Vodianoys"

Hannibal leaned forward briefly to see the dots moving towards them quickly

“Well…this is US Space Territory… we might have company…” muttered Hannibal, switching back to radio, everything moving in his head quicker than he could process. “I am Snowden…let’s move quick. All frames, keep clamped with one hand, engage full thrust with afterburner in three…two…one…go”

All four Orbital Suits engaged thrust hard, pushing back against the missile as they did as it begun to slow down. The enemy frames passed below, beginning to bank and cut back around for a shot. Hannibal thought quick, remembering that not just his life, but his team’s lives were on the line.

“All units keep clamps engaged, turn suits to face outwards, fire when in sight. Keep hands clamped on the frame, do not disengage”

Iroguchi flipped his suit quickly, spinning to plant his Orbital Suits hands against the rocket, still keeping the thrusters pointed down. Hannibal did the same, just barely seeing the other two do the same; the Russian Vodianoy frames were beginning to pull up into view of his plexiglass cockpit.

“All frames, fire at will. Keep a hand on the missile at all times, feet on the thrusters until I notify you”

“Roger” reported all members. Hannibal began to scope a Vodianoy as it was pulling up to get into its firing range. Hannibal moved the guns sighter dots across the cockpit, keeping in the zone ahead of the enemy mech.

A burst of orange off in the distance and Hannibal felt his frame shudder as a volley of high impact round slammed across his body. He fired off his own burst of machine gun quickly, a measured burst from his mechs head cannons, firing it hard. The Vodianoy dodged a few, a couple hitting its mark on the lower leg, a burst of blue flame jutting from the Vodianoy as it sped overhead

“Commander, they’re not aiming for the rocket, just us, they’re leading their shots!”

Hannibal turned his head around wildly, searching for another frame to fire upon from his side of the rocket.

“Goddamn it” he muttered to himself “I want some kind of targeting in this shitbox” as another Vodianoy sped under him. He turned on the comms link “All members, hit afterburners. Keep thrusters on for another thirty seconds”

“Roger” replied all before the channel closed shut.

Silence fell again as Hannibal breathed hard. Space being silent during these battles always creeped Hannibal out, he wanted to hear the screaming jets of Orbital Suits, the firing mechanism of the guns, the loud explosions. He missed that. The Vodianoy began to cut upwards to arc back to the other side of the rocket. Hannibal moved the aiming dots quickly, breathing hard as he did. He fired another large burst, the firing guns shaking the cockpit as the bullets arced towards the enemy frame, missing as it just clipped its back feet thrusters. He swore, firing the trigger again as he finally landed a large number of shots across its rear thrusters, the Vodianoy exploding silently, Hannibal smiled quietly.

“Commander Smith, one frame destroyed.” And he began looking around for another target, keeping his eye on the internal clock. Fifteen more seconds before they had to stop the thruster.

“Iroguchi, one frame destroyed” spoke Iroguchi over the channel

“Snowden, damage sustained to right leg and lower chest”

“Klein here, severe damage sustained to right arm, minor damage to Rocket on my side”

The speed of the V2 rocket was plummeting quickly, their combined thrust was slowing it in orbit, however Hannibal was worried that if this battle went on any longer, they’d damage the rocket or worse, he’d lose a member of the team.

“Klein, Snowden, stay clamped onto the rocket. Iroguchi, unclamp with me, we’re taking out these last three”

“Roger” replied all. Iroguchi whooped over the microphone as he declamped, hitting his thrusters with urgency as he sped from underneath Hannibal and out after a frame.

Hannibal declamped and began to float along at the speed of the rocket, their speeds almost equal but the rocket began to drop lower beneath him as its speed dropped further. A Vodianoy curved upwards, half spinning to face Hannibal, unleashing a torrent of bullet on the now exposed Orbital Suit

“SHIT!” Hannibal pushed hard on the RCS switch, a large burst of compressed gas pushing his suit downwards towards Earth back first. The compass mounted on the dash spun, Earth was underneath Hannibal now and he was falling. Hannibal spun quick, thrusters blasting into life and shaking the frame as he accelerated towards Earth, starting a large curve to angle himself back up towards the V2.

“Iroguchi here, these Vodianoy are persistent, are you clamped guys still providing covering fire?”

Klein’s voice came through two seconds later, the radio transmission delayed by the slight distance. “We’re trying, they’re focused on you two though, bring them back towards us if you want support fire”

“Shit” muttered Snowden “Huge energy spike detected on the surface, something is coming towards us”

Hannibal curved around tighter now, trying to get back to his squad. A Vodianoy was circling around, his back to Hannibal and exposed. Bringing guns up, he unleashed a burst of machine gun fire, cutting into the thrusters and he smiled as they exploded silently in the void of space. Hannibal brought his frame up to the Vodianoy, coming as close as he could to the Russian enemy.

He could see the pilot frantically moving around the cockpit, trying to bring the thrusters online. Hannibal reached out with the mechs hands and pushed the Vodianoy frame back, spinning it slowly and he grabbed its hands, twisting them and feeling a creaking noise of metal snapped. The deactivated frame spun slowly back to Earth.

“Commander Hannibal here, another frame down. Iroguchi, I’m coming for support. Klein, Snowden, has that missile slowed down yet?”

I barely have time to think…damn it…keep moving, talk and walk.

“Affirmative, missile has come to a complete halt above Earth” replied Snowden. Hannibal thought quick as he spun upwards and back towards the rocket. Two frames left, an energy signature fast approaching, he had three lives under his command. He flicked the heatsinks on, attempting to become as stealthy as he could while piloting a 40 foot mecha.

“Klein, provide back up support from the rocket. Snowden, reposition yourself, get me a scan of that energy signature. On my way Iroguchi”

“Roger” Iroguchi replied, stress creeping into his voice.

Hannibal pushed the frame to top speed, rocketing forward in space as the V2 slid underneath him, the colossal size of the thing sliding by with a deep hum. Iroguchi was clearly visible now, the two Vodianoy frames unaware of the approaching Hannibal just yet, his stealth manoeuvres paying off. Iroguchi climbed higher, before cutting downwards towards Earth, the two Vodianoy making a beeline and began closing the distance between their target. Hannibal began targeting one of them, joining the three in the dive towards Earth.

“Energy signature fast approaching, detection picks up a metal projectile” replied Snowden “I think it must have been either a rocket launch or…” Snowden sighed “Never mind, I’ll keep analysing.”

Hannibal fired upon the closest frame, the enemy frame blossoming into fire and smoke, the head splitting apart as an escape pod burst out, the enemy Russian spinning wildly out of the wreckage barely missing Hannibal's Orbital Suit. The Geneva Convention forbade firing on escape pods, Hannibal just let it bounce off his frame as it attempted to adjust itself post escape trajectory.

“Iroguchi, other frame is down, coming to help take care of yours.” And he put the frame into a high pursuit curve, arcing back around to try and put the final frame in the Orbital Suit’s sights.

The comms signalled an alert. It was Snowden

“Commander! Signature is a high velocity railgun slug, they’re going to try and destroy the missile!”

SHIT. Think quick, react fast. Remember the training. A railgun can only fire slugs of a certain size before the energy loss is too great.

“Alright, Snowden, Klein, start moving that rocket. Iroguchi and I are on our way back to you, just start moving it”

After all that time to slow it down, now we need to speed it back up…

Iroguchi went into a roll, bring the Vodianoy behind him into the Commanders guns, allowing them to dispose of it quickly. As they both rocketed back to the missile, large and stationary above the Earth, the radar began to ping with the incoming railgun projectile.

“Alright start thrusters. PUSH!” and the rocket began to slowly tip upwards as Klein and Snowden started to point the rocket upwards away from Earth. The rocket slowly began to tip itself upwards.

Hannibal and Iroguchi joined them and began to add their thrust to theirs, the rocket beginning to turn upwards fast. The Orbital Suit impacted the metal, shoulders scraping against each other as Hannibal slotted himself in next to his team members.

The cockpit was silent, the only sounds the growing roar of the thrusters, beeps, whirrs and readouts clicking away.

“Keep going guys!” grunted Hannibal, frantically flicking switches

“Sir, my suit is going to start breaking apart soon!” yelled Klein, as the rocket began to turn to point outwards into black empty space. Silence, no simulated noises, the only noise the radar’s beeping, growing stronger and louder on the monochrome display.

“Afterburners, now, vent all heat as well” and the flames rocketed out of their Orbital Suits’, sending jets of flame dissipating out into space. The rocket began to move faster upwards.

Ping…ping…ping…ping…growing in intensity, sounding like a heartbeat rapid, reverberating around the cockpit. Hannibal was hyperventilating. Panicked. Eyes wide. It was almost upon them now, the grey dot growing larger and larger, the only sound the radar.

Ping…ping..pingpingpingpingpingping.

It was here.

The slug of the railgun flew past silently, all pig iron and welding marks, coming close enough for Hannibal to see markings of USSR, CCCP and various hammer and sickles. As it slid past the rocket, Snowden let out a sigh

“Hold your positions…that thing could be wired to go any minute” muttered Hannibal. It wasn’t. It barrelled onwards into space, no friction or gravity to stop it. It grew smaller and smaller before shining like another star in the sky.

Snowden began to laugh, Iroguchi muttering in what sounded like Japanese, Hannibal couldn’t be sure. Two beeps, Control was calling.

“Strike Group Seven, this is Control, report status”

“Hannibal here, two frames damaged, rocket is intact. Send Retrieval craft immediately”

“Roger Commander, Retrieval Craft Helena is en route. Hold position”. With that, the release of tension in the group was palpable, each of them sighing or making post battle check ups and diagnostics.

“Jeez, a railgun! I thought all of the ones in Soviet airspace had tabs on them, couldn’t fire shit”

Snowden said aloud. No one responded, Iroguchi coughed

“Anything is possible I guess”

"But something that big..." Snowden muttered "They must have launched it minutes ago to reach us...and the power"

Klein tapped the microphone “In World War Two, the Japanese used railguns on actual trains, hidden in buildings and depots until it was minutes before firing. Sometimes they’d set them up in warehouses, and when they fired the projectile, just let it blow the roof off.”

“Iroguchi, know if your people ever do shit like that?” asked Snowden and Iroguchi made a noise of uncertainty

“I wasn’t alive then, in a Japanese detention camp in California” and quiet fell again over the group. The missile floated lazily along with them, orbit carrying them around the curvature of the Earth below.

“Hey, happy new year guys” said Hannibal, and they wished each other a new year. Iroguchi argued that since they were in space no real time existed and it was only New Year if they were corresponding to where they had taken off in Colorado. A debate started up between Iroguchi and Klein, Snowden chipping in while Hannibal watched the scanner. Hannibal found himself becoming quieter and quieter these days, speaking so sparingly that any words seemed strange to say. He looked at his gloved hands in the cramped dark cockpit, wondering what it meant to do anything anymore…he wasn’t thinking straight these days, psych evaluation would be hell no doubt. Hannibal reckoned he’d be out of this in a year, not much longer left in him.

As they argued and thought, Helena approached.

Retrieval Craft Helena wasn’t like any shuttle or craft that Hannibal had grown up seeing on television, but rather a craft built for function; it was a large latticework of struts, beams, cranes. It was a massive crane of sorts. As the Orbital Suits kept watch, the Helena began to position itself over the V2, the struts closing around it like a massive claw of sorts, spacemen jetting around attaching cables, clamps, the only signs of life above the slowly turning globe.

Hannibal opened a private line to Klein.

“Klein, you’re the history kid, how big were V2 rockets?”

“Forty five, maybe fifty feet?” and he went silent “But our Orbital Suits are that tall…”

“That makes this rocket…what? One hundred? Two hundred feet tall? What sense does that make?”

“It doesn’t make any sir. I don’t think the Nazis had the power to launch anything this powerful or heavy. A missile this big can’t be filled with just explosives, it wouldn’t be worth it. Why build a rocket when you could build planes, guns, shells? Something this big...” Silence fell between them, scratchy radio static filling the gap. “What do you think it means?” Klein asked and Hannibal sighed

“I don’t know if it means anything, honestly…when we got here, I realised it was large, but things seem stranger out here in space…it might just be…does it actually mean anything?”

Hannibal watched the Helena close the lattice work grip around the immense V2…it fit perfectly into it, which was strange considering the unusual size of the thing. But what did it mean? He felt fatigue wash over him like a fast moving wave, sweeping up over the cockpit and running through him.

He leant back in the stiff leather chair, turning the viewport back to look at the Earth. Half in shadow, half in light, he was not far enough away to cover it with a thumb as he usually did, but instead, he opted to hold a finger out and pretend to poke it in places. Flicked it, like he was trying to provoke a reaction out it. It looked swollen from up here, something about it, but Hannibal honestly thought that if only for a second, he was staring down at a bloated world.

“This is Retrieval Craft Helena, Commander Hannibal Smith please respond”

Hannibal shook himself from thought “This is him speaking”

“You will accompany us to Transit Pacific, Dock 15. Maintain radio silence and do not make any outgoing transmissions.”

The large scaffolding and struts began to move from the large engines stuck on the back, beginning to accelerate along the curvature of the Earth below. Even in the silence of the cockpit, the cramped monochrome displays bouncing off the curved glass of the helmet, lights blinking blue, green, yellow, orange, small tinny beeps desperately seeking human attention, Hannibal still felt terrified by space. In that tiny circular window, the blackness of the stars seemed stronger than any light made by the mecha; the cockpit was not a safe haven. Hours passed in total silence, sweat building up under the stiff rubber and Teflon flight suit, various itches gone unscratched. Hannibal shifted in the leather seat, starting to grow claustrophobic when one of the various blips of shining light in the sky got bigger and bigger, revealing itself as Transit Pacific.

The immense multi-national spaceport, a large colony ship coming into view docked at the side, heading to one of the colonies on Phobos or Deimos perhaps.

“Sir, I’m almost out of oxygen” radioed Klein and Hannibal muttered in agreement.

“We’re running fumes now, four hours of escort ain’t exactly doing favours” Snowden agreed and Hannibal coughed

“Right then, keep quiet, preserve what we got. They'll be letting us in soon"

The Helena began to slowly dock and Hannibal breathed in, the air having a slight metallic odour to it. The beeping noises of oxygen warnings was loud in his helmet and he disabled it, reverting to silence and the noises of his breathing for company. The Helena slowly docked, each agonising jet of RCS gas as it stabilised with the rotating spinning space station playing out with the hissing of breath over radio. The Helena had docked, sealed within the pressurised and oxygenated docking bay.

“Standby for further orders Strike Force Seven” said a female voice from Control

“Control, we are critically low on oxygen, we need to dock immediately”

“Negative Commander, await further orders” replied Control

What's keeping them?

They sat outside, mere millimetres of material between them and air, like men drowning trapped beneath the ice. The air was critically low, every breath feeling full of metal, burning and thin of any sort of precious oxygen. Hannibal inched forward in his suit, aware of the guns trained on the craft from inside the station.

"Control, we request to dock immediately" wheezed Hannibal. No response except beeps and whirs.

What is going on? Oh god, what are they doing in there? What has this all been about?

“Fuck it, we gotta blast our way in” gasped Snowden

“And de-pressurise that whole place?” Hannibal said back “We have to hold…” and he realised that there was no way this was an accident.

They were being made to suffocate outside in the dark hot confines of space. This was most likely how it ends, errors of human intellect forcing capable people to bear the weight of mistakes while the culprits walk free. Hannibal’s mind was already unhinging, low on oxygen, face to face communication non-existent in this job. Hannibal knew he was losing his mind, not to the so called “space fever” or “gravity madness” but to the pure isolation that came from it all. The fear of hundreds of million miles of unbreathable space, the existential crisis arising from rising high over the Earth only to fall back to an existence five foot nine in height, constantly looking down for fear of falling. Hannibal was starting to lose his mind, and he could feel it creeping in at the edges. He’d fall back to Earth and people would seem to look through him, mishear him, he stood awkwardly at edges of parties as the girlfriend of the hour would maneuverer through with well-practiced grace while he fumbled with the edges of social understanding, while his mind struggled with images of fire, falling, blackness all lit up with long beams of long dead light from a failing star. Returning was yearning to come back, the logical conclusion of going up was to come down again and Hannibal realised his mind was panicking deprived of oxygen but he knew he existed in that brief space between flying and falling and that space was perfectly imperfect, impermanent, he was a person crafted for a brief moment with little real world application aside from it, hyper specialised in such crippling ways.

Don't panic, don't fear it. Don't fear it. Don't pray to god, don't nobody know my troubles with God, don't look down, don't talk so loud, so loud, walk softly, flat-footed like a dancer, like a scared dancer waiting at the side of the stage for a cue that never comes. Don't breathe. Don't wheeze. Keep your eyes open.

“Strike Force Seven, you are cleared to dock in Entry Port 4” spoke a voice from Control.

They scrambled to enter as quickly as possible, their Orbital Suits almost slamming into each other as they piled in, eagerly watching as the airlock pressurised, the outside oxygen levels creeping up until finally, as their Orbital Suits crashed onto the floor and gravity kicked in…

Hannibal reached up, pulling the hatch open and tearing his helmet off and flinging it down onto the seat. Air flooding into his lungs like beautiful drowning and he stood on his seat and sat with his upper body outside the cockpit. Vision sharpened to a point, his mind cleared.

He stared across at his three team-mates and they had all done the same. Iroguchi was laughing in panicked relief and Snowden was using his hands to push more oxygen to his face. Klein was closest and he stood on the metal white head of his cockpit

“Commander, mission complete?” he yelled across the bay, as teams of engineers descended on the heavily damaged Orbital Suits

“Mission Complete” Hannibal yelled back, crawling onto the cockpit as well, lying on his back and finally scratching his face.

The next few hours slid past as they showered, surveyed the damaged to their Orbital Suits, wrote their after mission initial reports and headed to their small quarters. They had just settled in to eat dinner when their room speakers went off.

“Strike Force Seven, report to Entry Port 3 Overwatch” and they all sighed, muttering, Snowden letting loose colourful curses.

"Hey, we're getting our medals!" joked Snowden

"They're getting a piece of my fucking mind" snarled Iroguchi "Keeping us dying outside..."

The Overwatch was empty, looking out over the Helena as a crew of easily a hundred were examining the rocket, taking parts off it, sparks flying, a hive of activity. The rocket was swarming with people, the metal being ripped off and thrown hundreds of feet to the dock floor below.

“Jesus, they’re going to town on it” muttered Snowden “What was the point of keeping it in one piece if they just tear it up?”

“Whatever was in there must have been worth it” said Klein

“You’re right there” said a voice. They all looked at each other. “Gentlemen, I am to understand you four guarded the rocket from that enemy patrol?” the voice asked again.

The four of them turned around, still breathing heavily, enjoying the oxygen rich air of the space station. A man, accompanied by two black suited G-men was standing in the doorway of the lobby, and he walked in, staring out the window as he crossed the metallic floor

“Shame about the bullet holes on it, scratches too” he remarked.

“We almost died getting that thing for y’all!” Snowden yelled.

The man shrugged “Your comfort is none of my concern” Snowden went to throw a punch but Iroguchi grabbed him around the waist, pulling him back towards Hannibal “I suggest you control your men commander”

“I suggest you just say your piece and walk out of here…we’ve had enough of that missile” replied Hannibal and the man laughed, his glasses reflecting the harsh synthetic sunlight.

“You ain’t in any position to be telling me what to do boy, I come from somewhere so high in government that if I pissed on you, you’d think it was rain. So let’s not make this a dick measuring contest because we win every time” he stared out the window “You flight jockeys need to understand the importance of this thing…or rather, you don't"

Silence fell over the group. He stepped forward to the window, turning back with an arm outstretched before thinking twice about what he was to say.

Klein stepped forward, clearing his throat “That thing is no ordinary rocket, what is this missile exactly?”

“What missile?” and the man cocked his eyebrow in response. They all fell quiet as it dawned on them; this was a cover up in progress.

Behind him, the large V2 rocket loomed over the entire bay it was secured in. As engineers were quickly cutting it open, Hannibal swore he saw something pulled from the tip of the rocket…something human shaped. Had there been a human inside that rocket?

“As far as you four are concerned, there never was any missile. What missile? If you start talking about these things, maybe you’ll find yourself suffocating outside an airlock and this time we won’t be so gracious to let you in. No missile, no such thing existed. There are 5200 V2 missiles. The 5201st Rocket? It never existed and all of this? It never happened”

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