Session 1 - Liftoff

General Clarke ushers you into a small conference room in the hanger where, having met with the Selection Committee's approval for this mission, you've spent the last several days taking a crash course in astronaut training; a refresher for some of you but a necessity for others who have grown up planet-side and never left its gravity.

The air of tension in the facility and the frustration of the instructors has made it clear that the Committee is impatient and wants you in the sky as soon as possible. So, you're not overly surprised when after only a few days Clarke comes to inspect your progress personally. You're not entirely certain whether you're about to receive a pep talk or a scolding when she takes you aside to speak with you in private.

What you aren't expecting is to find Prime Minister Owen Farley himself seated at the head of the conference room table, waiting your arrival. He's typing rapidly on the laptop before him as you enter but stops to rise and nod to Clarke as you file into the room. You've all met the Prime Minister, as he interviewed each of you individually as part of the selection process and took some time to congratulate you after you were chosen, he's been largely hands-off since--allowing the Committee to take the necessary steps to prepare you.

"Prime Minister, you've met the team already, of course, but just to refamiliarize you with everyone's role," says Clarke, motioning towards you with sharp stabs of her chin as she speaks. Farley's calculating eyes study each of you in turn, but he says nothing and his bland expression doesn't change.

"Lieutenant Erik Monroe, our ship's pilot. Gavin Shellstrom, engineering/communications. Dr. Phillip McHeart, linguistics. Dr. Richard Riemann, chief scientist. Major Tanner Woods and Second Lieutenant Olivia Rojas, tactical support."

"Quite well, thank you." responds Farley. He clears his throat. "Please be seated everyone."

As everyone maneuvers for a chair, he himself remains standing.

He taps a key on his laptop and an image replaces the blank ivory of the wall behind him. Like almost every news report or video you've caught online lately, it shows the unidentified craft circling Farley's World. These images seem to be either enhanced to higher resolution or taken from much closer, but they're still mostly blurry gray smears.

"I know your team's goal is first contact but, despite the fact they've done nothing but try and capture our attention, our visitors here have caught the public's attention to the point that its whipped things into a near panic."

The screen changes to show a pair of blue dots circling the globe at a slight angle from the equator, while a pair of red dots nearby flutter about randomly but seem to maintain a fairly consistent distance.

"Orbital Guard craft have taken up stationary orbit at an estimated safe distance from the unknown agents,"[/b] Farley says.

"Their deployment is entirely defensive," Clarke cuts in. "They have strict orders not to approach or engage the craft unless they take hostile action."

"You'll understand we had to be seen to take some action to ensure that people remained calm." Farley shrugs. "The opportunity to make history as the ones to solve this mystery is still yours--but if you don't get up there quickly some shuttle jockey is going to steal all of the fame. And we have to hope it's not by proving trigger happy."

Gavin Shellstrom examines the images and the chart showing the Orbital Guard craft with the other objects.

"Makes sense to me," he says. "The communications chatter's been getting even more heated than usual recently. I'm sure at least one person is psyching themselves up to get out there first. Whoever it is is probably a fine human being, but I wouldn't bet on them being what we would call 'thoughtful' or 'organized.'

Farley nods in response to Gavin's comment.

"Nor should we ignore the efforts of the scientific community here on the ground in attempting to make contact. They've made a number of attempts to simply broadcast back from the surface," he leans forward to tap a button on his laptop and a second window opens on the wall showing detailed graphs of frequencies, intensities, and periodicity shaded in different color coding. "These have largely entailed attempting to mimic the transmissions received or break them up into different sequences. It doesn't appear to have changed the nature of their response. The messages we've been receiving have remained static."

"That's good to hear, Major, and I'd expect no less," he responds to Woods. Then he turns to face Clarke, seated to his right. "So, how soon do you think we can have this group off the ground?"

"The former," replies the Prime Minister. He taps a few more keys and graphs reappear on the wall screen, though they're simpler now, just the same signal graphed repeatedly with timestamps and notations regarding which agency had recorded them. A highlighted portion is marked by an arrow directing to related graph showing soundwave frequencies. The minister strikes a key to play the isolated recording.

"Heh-pah... Sisti... heh-pah."

This small, repeating audio component has been omnipresent since it was decoded and it has been loudly argued by various experts as to whether it contains some type of language or is merely background noise or is perhaps only of value when considered as part of the overall transmission.

The 'heh' sounds like someone panting heavily into a receiver. The 'pah' almost a cough, like the breather had suddenly been struck in the chest. The other syllable starts with a snakelike hiss that seems to promise danger, before abruptly ending in a sharper sound.

Farley claps his hands at Phillip's assertion of readiness. "Very good, that's what I was hoping to hear. Do the rest of you share that assessment?"

His eyes drift over everyone offering them a chance to voice any concerns, but noticeably come to rest on General Clarke seeking final approval.

"Yessir. I have a go-bag at the ready and I'm prepared to go orbital. As long as we have the standard set of datapads and linkups, that's all I need right now."

"I assure you, Mr. Shellstrom, we'll do our best to ensure you're equipped with whatever you need. If you find the Blackthorne is lacking in anything you require, just call it out."

"You got it, Prime Minister. Let me do a quick preflight evaluation and I'll let you know if there's anything else we need.

"Not so fast, Major." says Clarke, rising from her chair. She extends her left hand to halt Rojas who had leapt to her feet at Tanner's command. "While I've no doubts as to the readiness of you and the lieutenant, I would remind you that portions of this room at present have a total of 2 weeks of devoted astronaut training to their name."

She makes a curt, chopping motion as if physically deflecting away any incoming objections.

"Yes, some of you traveled down from orbit when you arrived and the rest are at least up to date on your annual emergency evacuation training if you grew up here; but I'd point out that passenger safety is a far cry from the detailed training given to even those actively performing the least taxing scientific study in oribit. You've maybe one sixth the recommended hours, if we're being generous."

She turns to face the prime minister.

"I understand the desire to move as fast as possible, but I'd weigh that against the fact that every launch has the potential for unexpected dangers--this one most of all. I'd advise another couple of weeks on the ground if it could eliminate an error that has us starting from back from zero."

Woods is visibly frustrated by this new delay, but years of practice deferring to the chain of command helps him keep his cool.

"If I might offer a counterpoint General, we still don't know if we're preparing to defend ourselves from a new threat, perform a first contact, embark on a rescue, or start evacuating the planet. We need intel and we need it bad. I'd feel better about leaving with time to spare in case we hit trouble and need to turn back. If we wait, we don't have that option."

Phil skips asking for the general's permission and aims his arguments directly at the PM "I'd like to add, mister Prime Minister, sir. I've never seen or been part of a crew that shows such a high level of competence." Usually, this is where Phil would be bullsh*tting his way through, but in this case he didn't have to lie. He really hadn't ever been part of a better crew... Then again, contrary to what his resume said, he hadn't been part of many crews.

"I'm sure you've extensively studied our previous accomplishments. If that doesn't give you the confidence you need, we might as well call the whole thing off." As a con man, Phil was accustomed to feigning confidence when needed.

Gavin is taken aback by General Clarke's hesitation, especially considering what was said about some lone-wolf cowboy type trying to make a jaunt up there before they could put together an official mission and possibly ruining an incredible opportunity. He decided he needed to speak up himself.

"Pardon me, General Clarke, but from what I've gathered in the discussion so far one of the primary complications here is that the signal is not a secret. I know for a fact that the signal data is being analyzed by a number of interested individuals, and there is some concern that one or more of them could try and launch themselves out without warning.

I understand you would feel more comfortable with extra time to prepare, dot all the Is and cross all the Ts. But it seems to me like time is an issue here and at this point it's seeming less and less like a luxury we can afford. It sounds like we're as prepared as we need to be right now, we should take first mover advantage."

"I assure you, I've been studying your previous accomplishments since before the committee confirmed you as their selections. And again I'm in no way expressing a lack of confidence in the team or your ability to succeed at the assigned task. I am saying that you, and I include you in this specifically Mr. McHeart, would benefit from another week of training in that I think that short delay realistically has the chance to significantly shift the odds between mission success and failure.""What you say is not without merit, Mr. Shellstrom, it is the very same argument the PM was just making--the longer we delay the more of a chance that someone tries to make an unsanctioned attempt at the first contact. However, for the moment we have the public's support to manage the response. All of the scientific teams currently attempting to establish remote contact are another arm of our own strategy and are acting only after receiving our approval. The pilots currently surveilling the unidentified craft have orders only to observe. Does that mean the other side won't force the issue? No. But the resulting outcome will be we still have control over the exchange, granted your team would be preferred to be managing it."

"I believe time is of the essence. We need to find answers and before panic spreads to the people. The signal will not stay secret for ever." says Dr. Richard. He tries to hide his excitement and eagerness to find what it the source.

"The signal is not a secret now--the entire scientific community is trying to decode the thing and failing. If someone unexpected does solve it before us they probably deserve a medal rather than a censure. The answer is indeed the key--the people are going to panic until we can provide them with a clear explanation of what's happening. Again, I simply think our best chance of doing that is ensuring this team isn't scuttled by a lack of preparation."

Monroe speaks up unexpectedly, in support of Dr. Riemann.

"It still sounds to me like the most important thing here is controlling the message and making sure this team is the group that makes contact. Like Gavin said--me and the others with years of orbital experience can get this lot up into orbit and back down safely," the pilot smiles charmingly at General Clarke, and she finds herself nodding along in agreement despite herself. "I think the risk of having the wrong people make our first impression is greater than that of a couple of rookies scrapping the whole mission, which isn't as likely as you let on given all the veterans we've got onboard."

"I wish I felt more confidence overall after listening to this exchange," says Farley. "But I came into this meeting wanting to move ASAP and nothing I've heard has convinced me otherwise. Go ahead and prepare your team to board."

He turns to Clarke. "Get their launch scheduled and make sure all the support teams are mission ready."

Clarke salutes back. "Yes, sir. Best of luck everyone, we're counting on you."

You don't sense any animosity in her final words--either she was challenging you just to see if you really thought you were ready and would speak up for yourselves, or she's accepting of the final decision and willing to move beyond any concerns without further argument.

Dr Riemann leaves the room excited. He goes to prepare himself, getting some notebooks and his tablet. Then he will go to suit up with the others.

As soon as he leaves the room, Phillip allows himself a fistpump. Heck yeah, they were on their way to a new frontier and hopefully a payout that'll last him a good while. All he had to do was act the part and make sure things went his way. No sweat!

"Excited, Tanner?" He asked the major as they walked down the hallway.

With the team dismissed, the work changes to the preparation of the Blackthorne for liftoff.

The mission craft is a scientific vessel, customized to increase the functionality of its communications arrays and expand them to a wider spectrum of frequencies. You've been told there was also some work put into improving its maneuverability and adding some minor defensive capabilities.

The interior of the craft could hold up to a maximum of eight crew, though she is stocking extra oxygen and fuel in the place of a couple of empty seats since the exact requirements of the mission are unclear. The front of the craft features a broad transparent canopy through which the pilot can look out directly at the stars ahead, at least through lift-off Tanner will be seated besides him as the co-pilot. Behind them, the interior area is not spacious but not entirely cramped--approximately the length of two school buses back-to-back, and between seven and fifteen feet wide along its length.



"Alright everyone, let's check your stations and help each other check your flight suits," Monroe says over the intercom and he runs a preflight check on the Blackthorne's instruments and engines. "Also remember to run another check on your EVA suits. You don't want to be discovering a tear or that no one's refilled the tank after you're floating out in space."

Phil walks into the lab. He looks around with a grin. "Nice!" It wasn't a lab like you'd expect, with glass bottles and vials everywhere. Though the ship did have a small one like that too, this was his linguistics labs. Multiple computers lined the back wall. Recording devices and speakers a-plenty. A state of the art knowledge base that held within thousands of books on language alone.

This was his playground for this mission. Even though Phil had lied about his scientific capabilities, he knew his way around books. The rest was the easy part, most likely.

He picks up a device of which he has no idea what it does. The label on it reads "DXR-25". Hopefully he didn't need that one any time soon, or he may have to check the manual. He shudders at the thought. Books were one thing, instruction manuals a whole different universe that he was not interested in.

Gavin takes quick stock of the ship and then went to perform initial diagnostics on the communications array. When push came to shove, he wanted to be sure he knew what it was capable of. He also wanted to get familiar with the system, make sure he knew all the quirks and the layout. Didn't want to be in the middle of a situation while trying to figure out what this one button did.

"Roger that, Monroe," Gavin replied over the radio. He was familiar with the basic vacuum suit check:it was done in pairs, each person checking their suit first then their partner's, under the philosophy that two heads are better than one.

Gavin made his way over to the suit locker to get his suit and do his initial check. "Partner for a suit check?" Gavin said out loud to no one in particular after verifying the air and fuel levels and doing his own initial check for any holes or tears.

Tanner was checking and stowing his gear, which one might expect to be mostly guns and bombs, but by volume was trauma kits, rations, ropes, harnesses, case after case of spare parts and repair kits, and portable sensors and communication gear.

Which is not to say there were no bombs. A large, dangerous looking rifle was clipped in by his seat, and he knew without thinking which of his many pockets held ammunition, grenades, flashbangs, breaching charges, emplaced explosives, and thermite.

"I’ve got you, Shellstrom," he says, tightening the final strap on his equipment harness and moving to check Gavin’s seals before putting on his own helmet for a pressure test.

"You’re good to go."

Rojas herds McHeart and Riemann over to their EVA gear and observes them helping each other perform their checks--entirely failing to disguise the fact that she's sticking close by because doesn't trust them to be responsible for clearing each other.

"All crew flight suits are good for launch, EVA suits are in the prepped and ready if needed," she reports as she assists the scientists in storing the extravehicular suits back in their lockers.

There's a short burst of static and General Clarke's voice is the next one you hear from the ship's speakers.

"Alright everyone, this is it!" The broadcast comes across a bit tinny, robbing her voice of some of the depth and gravitas it had during your recent argument until Gavin fiddles with something on the communications panel and it clears. "I'm setting your launch window to t-minus 600 and counting. Secure your equipment and strap in. I'd wish you luck, but you don't need it. We're counting on you to do your best to resolve this situation, and I've got the utmost faith in your abilities as a group to handle whatever is thrown at you. I'll be in touch from here in mission HQ. Godspeed."

"Roger that, preparing for liftoff at T-minus 600," answers Monroe. Large countdown displays open up at the top center of each interior wall--'600' in foot tall red numbers are impossible to ignore and immediately begin counting down by the second. "Preflight check completed, onboard systems are go. Engaging auxiliary power units now...rudder and flaps appear to be a go. Mission control, please confirm we are cleared for next steps in launch."

"Thank you" Gavin replies as the Major helps with his check. Gavin helps Tanner with his check in return, everything looks good. When the T-600 launch window is announced, Gavin says "There's the go-time warning. I'm strapping in, see you when we're in orbit."

Gavin makes his way to the communication array and straps himself into his launch chair. Readings from the diagnostics look good, this ship is ready to go as far as his role is concerned.

"Shellstrom, Communications, Go for launch," Gavin spoke into the crew radio. It was a standard pre-lift message, letting everyone know that he was where he was supposed to be and ready for takeoff. The pilots were going to have enough on their minds without having to worry if everyone remembered to sit down and buckle up.

Phillip makes sure everything in his work area is secured for launch before getting herded into his EVA gear. Since there's no real use for a language nerd during launch, he decides to join the pilot in the cockpit. He does a last check of his suit and straps himself into one of the 2 seats in the back as he was taught. "McHeart, good to go." He says into his intercom. Then he grabs the armrests firmly and braces for launch.

There's a brief scramble as everyone secures their seats for launch. The clock ticks down relentlessly and Mission control responds just at it reaches 420.

"Weather conditions remain a go. All console checks completed, unanimous go. Engaging GLS."

"Confirm, GLS is live," reports Monroe.

"Retracting access arm." You feel the Blackthorne shake around you as the boarding corridor is physically separated from the ship.

There's a short pause as the numbers on the wall tick steadily down toward 300.

"Blackthorne, you are clear to activate auxiliary power."

A steady thrumming builds through the ship from where the base of the craft sits on the launchpad.

"APUs are powered up, awaiting clearance from ground crew," Monroe reports.

Whatever checks are performed by the ground crew, they don't appear to take very long, as they're done by the time the clock has hit 200 seconds.

"Manual checks report a go, prepare for takeoff pending final checks by GLS."

The clock ticks down further, hitting 120. Just two minutes. 

"Okay everybody, this is it, what you've been training for," Monroe tells you. "If you're not secured and ready for orbit you're going to find yourself careering around my cabin shortly and you won't be dealt with kindly."

The thrum from the bottom of the craft builds into a rumble as the clock nears 30 seconds.

"Final GLS checks are a go, initiating auto-sequence start."

"Sound suppression system activating," says Monroe. The roar from beneath you is suddenly downed out by white noise, as if the Blackthorne has suddenly been swept away by a rushing river.

"Woohoo! This is it everybody, get ready to kiss the ground goodbye," hoots the pilot.

"Blackthorne this is Mission control, you are clear to start main engines for liftoff. Fly safe up there."

"Sure thing, Mom." responds Monroe. "Igniting boosters. We have liftoff."

Almost before he's done speaking, you find yourself slammed down into your harnesses by what feels like the Hand of God as the boosters ignite. You're abruptly tugged to one side as Monroe rolls the ship to the right. The pull of the g-forces only increases as the ship continues to throttle toward the 18,000 mph needed to escape the gravity of Farley's World.

But amazingly while the moment seems to stretch out in a timeless expanse, it's only a few minutes according to the ship's clock when Monroe reports the boosters have been disengaged, and just under six minutes before the thrust levels off and he reports back to planetside.

"Mission control, he have achieved orbit. Setting course for mission objective."

Monroe aligns the nose of the craft with the location of the unidentified vessels and begins to bring you in.

As soon as the ship stops accelerating, Tanner is out of his straps, double checking his gear (if you think fumbling ordinance on a test range is bad imagine what it would do to the inside of a swift little spaceship!) and then checking on his teammates.

"Everyone okay? You did take your motion sickness meds, right?" He’s taken enough macho young recruits on their first launch treat he knows to ask.

"Let’s get to work people, we’re a ways out yet but let’s keep our eyes peeled and our wits sharp."

"No problems here" Gavin responds to Tanner's check-in questions.

Now that they're out of atmosphere and heading for mission objective, Gavin sets the communications array to receive signals from the objects and the Blackthorne to pass them through to ground control. Once he gets the green light on response from Ground Control, he positions his headset microphone and says "Communications is green" over the crew radio.

"Sure did!" Phil replies to the question of the motion sickness meds. If only he had remembered to take them an hour before, like they told him to, instead of 10 minutes before launch. He decides to stay seated for a bit till the dizziness passes.

"I'm gonna hang out here and look out the window for a bit if that's alright." He lets everyone know. "I'll go check the gear in a bit."

Oh for sure. If you're not used to leaving orbit, try and take it easy. It takes a while to get used to. Gavin said to Phil, trying to help him feel a bit better. Gavin could remember his first few forays out of the atmosphere and he felt just as sick back then as he guessed Phil was feeling now. If you start feeling really sick, try half closing your eyes and just staring at something stationary for a while. That helps sometimes. And grab yourself a giblet bag now, just in case the worst happens.