Chapter 9
The sled assumed a launch position: the front foils and triangular wings slid into the fuselage, until the sled resembled little more than a dart. A viewscreen showed the graphic of a virtual sled being lifted into the launch tube by a crane, like a torpedo. The simulator swung and bumped realistically as the crane settled the virtual sled into the tube. A clang confirmed the virtual blast door had closed.
At the far end of the virtual launch tube, Mervyn could see virtual stars. He sighed, remembering previous races in formula-three sleds, standing starts were his speciality. All those pole-position get-aways from the grid were a thing of the past, an advantage he could no longer rely on. ‘Eat my dust,’ he had snarled in the scholarship race as he rocketed straight into the lead past De Monsero’s sled. It was all just a matter of knowing your sled so well you could control it like an extension of your own body, without even having to think about it, like running.
‘Make sure you are strapped in, please,’ Cage said.
Mervyn checked the standard four part safety harness already fastened at his waist. He had done it many times before so it was no problem. Evidently, some of his fellow students, were not so experienced.
‘Maurice! You are still not strapped in properly. Jenny, please show him what to do,’ Cage boomed. Maurice was a nice enough lad, but hopeless at most things – old family, not at the centre of power, certainly not here on merit. From his comment, Mervyn guessed Cage had a visual feed to each simulator. He tucked the information away for future use.
‘Above your head is the launch control panel. Everybody got it? Say ‘affirmative’ if you have.’ Mervyn searched above his head for the right group of controls ‘Affirmative,’ he responded, ‘sled six to tower, we are ready for launch.’
‘Tower to sled six. Cleared to launch on my command,’ Cage replied formally.
‘The word, Maurice is ‘Affirmative.’ Cage sighed, accidently leaving the sled six channel open. ‘Yes, I know you are ready, but when you are ready you still have to say ‘Affirmative. Just ‘Affirmative’ will do. Thank you Jenny.’ Mervyn chuckled to himself and the open channel snapped off abruptly.
He waited nervously while sleds one to five launched in succession. Soon it would be his turn. He steadied his breathing - anticipation or anxiety? He didn’t know this sled at all well – it was so clunky and unfamiliar - like a stranger. He wondered how many hours of practice it would take until every aspect of the sled’s controls became second nature. A lot, and then they would only be on first name terms.
‘Tower to sled six, you are go,’ Cage intoned dramatically.
Mervyn hit the launch button and his world turned upside-down: the launch tube lit up and the sled spun forward, riffling round like a bullet. The acceleration slammed him into the back of his seat. He reminding himself it was only a simulation, though the taste of bile in his throat made it feel real enough.
The spinning sled cleared the launch tube with a whoosh of escaping air. With a jolt the engines ignited, and Mervyn remembered to jam his finger onto the ‘foils in/out’ button. The foils snapped open, the stabiliser jets cut in, and the sled stopped spinning.
He collected his bearings, then grinned all over his face: he had launched his very first formula-two sled -- albeit a simulated one.
‘Well done sled six, a successful launch,’ Cage said. ‘Now follow the route onscreen and see if you can bring it home.’
The screen showed a series of green squares, which Mervyn had to navigate, his flight path. It looked easy.
He spun the control balls trying to co-ordinate pitch and roll with direction. Even with his familiarity of formula-three sleds it was a lot more difficult than it looked. So much more power and those front fins, ‘How can anyone navigate a gas cloud without flipping us stern over bow?’ he complained loudly to Loren, who just laughed at him. But he managed it
He missed the first square by a light year and nearly got the second. With the third square dead ahead he increase power to the engines and went straight for it. This turned out to be a mistake. He steered successfully through the square at a satisfying pace, but lost it when he tried a sharp turn towards gate four.
Desperately, he tried to straighten the sled, then decided to cut his losses and give gate four a miss, taking a short-cut to five instead.
‘That’s cheating,’ Loren called from the back, ‘but she sounded more amused than annoyed.’
‘I’ll worry about the rules once I’ve learned to fly this thing,’ Mervyn snapped, steering perfectly through gate five. Now where was gate six?
Suddenly Loren called a warning from her navigation panel, ‘Meteor shower.’
‘I see it,’ he glided safely over meteor field then spotted gate six. It sat right in the middle of an asteroid belt. This was going to be tricky.
‘You’re going in too fast,’ Loren warned.
‘I need the power to slingshot round that first asteroid,’ he said as he slid sideways through the gate. It was a manoeuvre he’d managed several times in his Formula-three sled, ‘Just trust me.’
With a gut wrenching jolt, the sled careered into the asteroid, throwing Mervyn against the restraints. Without warning his seat pressed in from all sides, closing around him like a clam. Clouds of steam poured into the cockpit and the main lights died, leaving only the dim red glow of emergency lights. ‘Hull breach! Hull breach! Begin emergency evacuation!’ Blared a mechanical voice. ‘Distress beacon deployed! Life-support shut-down imminent!’
For a moment Mervyn forgot it was a simulation and panicked. Desperately, he struggled from the grasp of the seat while searching for his spacesuit.
‘Good one Merv,’ Loren called calmly from behind him, ‘you crashed your first Formula-two sled. My go I think.’
Mervyn felt his face reddening with embarrassment and collapsed into the chair with a sign – no need for the spacesuit, ‘That was fun,’ he lied. He felt better, though, when Loren spun nose over tail at full throttle and broke up with no survivors. ‘At least I managed to hit something,’ he chortled.
Fleetingly, he wondered if he shouldn’t have hung onto his old Formula –three sled, but instantly dismissed the idea. The only way he could possibly afford living expenses for the first year of Space Academy was to sell his trusted sled, though, he did begin to doubt his ability to fund the rest of his Academy years with prize money from races – it had seemed like a good plan at the time.
‘I thought my cartwheel was quite spectacular,’ Loren replied, looking shaken. Flying a formula-two sled was going to take some practice.
Only two students completed the course: De Monsero, and Aurora - she had almost succeeded in landing it too. It looked as if Aurora had a natural affinity for sledding, which was news to all of them.