1. The Takeoff

The day of my father’s funeral was a surreal experience. What began as the worst day of my life, ended as possibly one of the greatest.

For the rest of the world it was simply a day of mourning. Every news alert that morning carried some variation of the same message: "Memorial services for famed scientist Eduard Jones falls on the three-year anniversary of Commander Livingstone's disappearance."

I knew that it would have been better for my mental state if I ignored all media outlets that day, but I found the remembrance pieces to be cathartic. My father was gone from my life forever, and each headline reiterated that pain. However, reading about all of his scientific breakthroughs and how he had dedicated his life to bettering the future of humankind made it easier to accept that he hadn't been around much. I could count on one hand the number of times he came home over the last few years of his life.

Although, if I were to be completely honest with you, the real reason I fixated on every alert was to hear about the missing Commander. While I recognized my father for the genius that he was, the original Galactic Scouts were my true heroes. Like most kids I grew up with, I wanted nothing more than to join their ranks. Seeing the list of Livingstone’s accomplishments lit a spark in me. It reminded me that even though my father was gone, my goals in life didn't have to be.

That positive reminder carried me throughout the day. Even though I dreamed of one day traveling the stars, I had never been on an actual flight through the atmosphere. My mother was terrified of orbital flights, despite their impeccable safety record. After I was born, she refused to board another shuttle unless absolutely necessary.

Though she would never admit it, I’m sure the main reason my father’s visits home slowed in the last three years was because of the disappearance of Livingstone’s ship. She became a nervous wreck whenever he flew and would rather be apart then lose him to a crash.
I'm only now recognizing the irony that his early death came from an accident in his lab, and not during a flight.

On the morning of his funeral, Mom and I traveled to the Cardiff Flight Center in complete silence. We both stared out the window, lost in thought. My mind repeated the steps I needed to take to one day join the Scouts: finish secondary next month, get accepted to the Galilean Academy, then become a Scout when I graduated. It seemed like such an obvious path to my inexperienced self. Not an easy path to achieve, but one simple enough to daydream through.

As the car approached the security gates at the flight center, I was overwhelmed by déjà vu. The Cardiff center housed my father's planet-side office and laboratory until I was ten and I often visited.

Back then, the surrounding twenty foot high walls that towered over the campus gave it a sense of wonder. You can't help but think they are hiding something mysterious and dangerous behind them. I always hoped I would see something I wasn't supposed to see when running down the halls with my dad. Maybe something top secret.

Of course, none of that was true. The walls were purely there to protect the flight center from the unpredictable nature of the British Channel. Aircraft tend to not do well when flooded. Furthermore, it's unlikely anything dangerous or top secret is kept at any of the Galactic Society's locations on Earth. If you were to really think about it, there's no security system better than "you won't find that on the planet."

The gates opened without the auto-pilot on our vehicle needing to slow. As we passed through the gates, an automated computer voice came over the car's speakers. "Welcome to the Cardiff Flight Center, Jones family. It is our honor to provide your flight today. Your vehicle will take you directly to the hangar."

Most of my memories of visiting my father at work are all jumbled nonsense. I remember staff birthday parties, a maze of hallways, getting to play around with some of the tools in the lab, and I think I even broke a lamp once. But all of that could have happened during the same visit or years apart. In fact, some of those things could have happened somewhere different but I just associated them with my dad. And thus, the Flight Center.

Besides my dad, the only person I even remembered by name was my Uncle Rob. He wasn't my real uncle, but he and my father were close friends. When the Galactic Society's Scout program began, Rob was the first person my father recommended. Mom once told me that my father refused to be a part of the program, which required the use and upkeep of his interplanetary engines, unless Uncle Rob was involved.

While I learned a lot from my father, Rob was my first mentor. He would help me with my homework and tell me stories about the world. Rob had seen more things than I could ever imagine. It was his stories of exploration and peril that made me dream of life amongst the stars.

As for the Flight Center itself, the main thing I remembered was the ever-present feeling of everyone being in a rush. Every building I entered was crawling with people. Every interaction was completed with the utmost of urgency. Even before the car would arrive at Building G where my father would meet me outside his office, I would see dozens of adults moving from building to building. Outside the walls, the Cardiff swampland was quiet and serene. Inside, the campus was a loud, never-ending machine.

However, that day was different. We traveled through the gates and entered into a practical ghost town. There were no signs of human activity anywhere. No lights, no vehicles, and no frenzied interns rushing between buildings. It was unsettling.

Our vehicle traveled to our destination at the middle of the campus where we finally saw another person. Standing outside the central hangar was a pilot in her ceremonial whites. With the addition of gold bars and medallions to signify her rank and accomplishments, respectively, she seemed to radiate light in the mid-morning sun.

As the car slowed, my mom grabbed my hand. "I'm going to need this a lot today," she said as she gave me a squeeze. "Oh, I'm not ready for this." I could see the tears starting to well up in her eyes.

I squeezed back. "Mom, it's yours. Squeeze it all you want. I'm not leaving your side. I promise."
She leaned over and embraced me in her arms. I didn't think she could hug me tighter if she tried. One of those hugs that almost hurts, and yet you cherish every painful second.

We got out of the car and began our walk towards the hangar. Our pilot stood at attention and raised her hand to the brim of her cap to salute us. "Madam Jones, it is my great honor to be your pilot today. Dr. Jones was a teach-“
"Yoonah, please," Mom interrupted. "Please put your hand down. Eduard was always fond of you and I wouldn't want anyone else to fly us today. Thank you for volunteering."

The commander removed her cap, revealing her tear-streaked face. My mother embraced her in another hard-to-breath hug. She gave out many of those that day. I'm not even sure if it was a conscious decision. It was like her body had decided that if you were going to get a hug from her, then you were going to get the hug to end all hugs.

"Ptolemy, Commander Lee here was in your father's last class of students before the Scout program officially began."

The commander extended her hand to shake mine. "It's good to see you, Ptolemy. You probably don't remember this, but when you were eight you broke a lamp in Commander Scott's office with a toy shuttle."

I remembered.

She continued, "I hope you'll be a little more civilized during our flight today.”

Nervously, I released her hand and raised mine to my forehead to salute. "Ma'am, yes ma'am." She chuckled and I lowered my hand. "I'll do my best. I've changed a lot in the last nine years, but I do still like throwing shuttles."

"Good. Let's get to it. The shuttle is ready to takeoff."

Despite there being enough room to hold a couple dozen people, my mother and I were the only passengers. Commander Lee was only joined by a navigator, Lieutenant Briggs.

"Mom, I know this is my first atmosphere cycle, but shouldn't there be more than two people at the helm?" I don't think I did a very good job of hiding the concern in my voice.

In my defense, my mother's response didn't hide her's either. "Probably. But because of today's anniversary, it's an unwritten rule that no one flies. Hopefully it's just a superstition."

"Is that why you thanked her for volunteering?"
"Yes. Without her, we probably," she paused, took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds to regain her composure, and then slowly exhaled before continuing. “We probably wouldn't have made it to the service tonight."

That confused me. At the time, I couldn't fathom a reason the Galactic Society wouldn't accommodate the family of one of their most famous scientists to his funeral. However, I wasn't going to press it in that moment. My mom was getting visibly overwhelmed. I squeezed her hand.

Commander Lee's voice rang out over the cabin's speakers, "All systems are go and we are prepared to takeoff. Please remain seated until further notice."

The shuttle began to slowly roll forward and out of the hangar before coming to a complete stop. I looked out the window at Building G. An involuntary smile appeared as the memories of watching shuttle after shuttle take off from one of those windows came rushing over me. For years I imagined myself in one of them, and here I was, moments from launch.

I took a deep breath and looked forward. Without warning, the aircraft accelerated down the tarmac. From the window in Building G, the movement down the runway seemed perfectly smooth. From inside the shuttle, I could feel every bump in the pavement that the wheels rolled over. Suddenly, there were no more bumps.

We were airborne.

The nose of the shuttle was pointed up at a forty-five degree angle and we were still accelerating. I turned towards my mother to show my excitement, but stopped when I saw her. Her eyes were closed tight. One hand was squeezing mine, and the other was squeezing the armrest.

Instead, I closed my eyes and thought back to everything I had learned about how atmospheric flights worked. I allowed my mind to drift and imagined myself in the cockpit.

First, we take off using traditional jet engines. Low-power, high thrust. Simple. Effective. Trusted. I could almost feel my hands on the controls, slowly pulling back as we rose.

Now it was time for the real flight. The launch from 30,000 feet.

Soon the jet engines would shut off. I could picture the switch. I flicked it in my head. This was followed by the verbal confirmation to the ship’s computer allowing for autopilot takeover. For a brief moment there was absolute silence as the ship slowed.

The calm before the storm.

Even from behind the sealed door of the cockpit, I could have sworn that I was able to hear the computer calling out each action it was taking in my head.

“Initiating ignition.” Beneath my feet I felt a soft vibration that traveled from the rear of the aircraft. The fusion reactor was warming up.
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“Adjusting angle.” The nose of the ship tilted from its climbing angle of forty-five degrees to its launch angle of ninety.

In my head, I could visualize the entire instrument panel and cockpit layout. I knew how both types of engine worked and what they looked like as they went through their stages of ignition. The one thing I couldn’t fathom was what the sky looked like at that moment.

I opened my eyes to glance out the window, but all I could see were clouds. What I wouldn’t have given in that moment to be able to be at the helm of the ship.

Before that wish could even finish being created in my head, the shuttle lurched forward and I was pushed back into my chair. My body felt heavier and heavier with each second until it was suddenly weightless as we broke away from the gravity of the planet behind us.

The entire launch lasted only a few minutes, but it felt like it would never end. Up until that point, it was the most exhilarating, yet terrifying, experiences of my life. I understood my mother’s fear.

Then, it stopped completely. The sound, the vibrations, the acceleration. It all seemed to disappear. Looking out the window it was clear we were still moving, but now I could only see the curve of the horizon against the black backdrop.

The cockpit door opened and Commander Lee walked out. “Ptolemy, I know this is your first flight. Please allow me to be the first to welcome you to outer space. Would you like to see our destination?”

Speechless, I fumbled with the straps to let me out of my seat. I stumbled towards the front of the ship before I remembered the promise to not leave my mother’s side. “Mom, you should come with us.”

She shook her head without opening her eyes. “No, thank you. I need a few more minutes here.”

“You okay?”

“Yes, yes. I just need to breathe.” She opened her eyes and reassured me ,“you can go ahead. Besides, I’ve seen it.”

I nodded, thanked her, and turned to follow in the steps of Commander Lee. From the cabin, I could already see it through the open door but it wasn’t enough. Almost involuntarily, like a moth to a light, I continued to walk forward and through the doorway. The large white orb in front of us was growing larger. Within minutes it would be all we could see through the windshield.

“I never get tired of this,” Lieutenant Briggs muttered to no one in particular. He then turned to me. “Stay up here as long as you like, Ptolemy. We have a couple of hours before we start our approach and I promise you, the view only gets better.”