Perigee Read Online Free Page B

back into his seat pocket.
    “Thanks,” Tom sighed as he allowed his hands to float free of the controls, welcoming their renewed buoyancy as he made one last instrument scan. “I think we’re in good shape,” he said, finally allowing a smile. “Cabin secure?”
    Ryan glanced down at the signal light from Marcy and nodded. “Cabin secure. Ready to let them out to play?”
    “Sure thing,” Tom said, keeping his hands free. “Your plane, though.”
    “First Officer’s plane,” Ryan answered while taking the yoke. A muffled bang echoed through the ship as he fired the control jets. Puffs of icy vapor flashed outside as the horizon spun out from beneath them, followed by another bang as he finished rolling the craft upside-down. Earth now filled the cabin windows.
    He picked up the interphone handset. “Folks, we’ve completed our rollover to give you all a better view. Our final speed is seven thousand miles per hour and we’ll coast up to a maximum altitude of 220 nautical miles. The seatbelt sign is off, so you’re free to unbuckle and float around for the next ten minutes or so,” he announced. “Welcome to space.”
    Tom pushed forward against his harness to take in the view. Earth curved away, strikingly lit as they flew away from the setting sun. Impossibly long shadows traced across the ocean two hundred miles below, the spectacle of an airborne sunset made so much greater by their altitude.
    …
     
    In the cabin, freshly liberated passengers clambered for room around the overhead windows and chattered excitedly at the view. Wakes from ships far below could be seen in the clear late-afternoon light, overlaid by the contrails of airliners speeding toward Hawaii. Their white vapor trails appeared incandescent in the low sunlight, and stood in sharp contrast against the azure sea below. Some strained for a glimpse of the Earth’s limb, but from their vantage point it was easier to just look straight down—or up, the distinction really didn’t matter.
    As they enjoyed the ride, Marcy kept a close watch for any signs of trouble. In particular, no one could reliably predict who might succumb to space sickness.
    It was the price for having so much room to float around, having first revealed itself back during the early space program. When the original Mercury and Gemini astronauts had been crammed into capsules not much bigger than an old phone booth, they had adapted quite well to the unfamiliar environment. But the comparatively roomy Apollo capsules and Space Shuttles had introduced a whole new class of inner-ear affliction. It was random, and did not discriminate—the most experienced space travelers could become violently ill while rookies had a fine time in zero-g.
    It seemed to strike around the same time on every flight. Soon enough, she spotted one passenger who had started to look green around the gills. “Sir, are you okay?” she asked, while pulling herself along a ceiling handrail. He appeared young and fit enough, yet looked at her with fearful eyes.
    “Not sure,” he croaked, and began frantically fumbling for his seat and the airsick bags stuffed into its pocket. But the poor guy was plainly too far gone, so she deftly whipped out a bag from her hip pocket and placed it over his mouth. She firmly held on to his shoulder to keep him from drifting away, not willing to risk the awful mess it would’ve made had he gotten loose.
    “Don’t worry, it happens every flight,” she comforted him. “Sometimes it even gets to us.”
    He attempted to speak and turned to her with an anxious look, then darted away as he continued retching loudly into the bag.
    …
     
    “Clipper 1302 Heavy, Oakland center; cleared to begin re-entry pitchover as filed. Descend and maintain eight-zero-thousand, contact Salt Lake center when radio communications resume.”
    Tom gave them a curt reply. “Copy that; we’ll let you know if we get into trouble.” He was continually amused at the attempts to control