Flight of the Minerva
by J. L. Young

“Minerva to Houston, Houston do you read?”

“We read you, Commander. EECOMS’s (Electrical, Environmental, and Consumables Manager) board is lit up like a Christmas tree, talk to me.”

“Glad to hear your voice. Multiple breaches. We managed to get the can resealed, we’re no longer hemorrhaging atmosphere. Something big hit us, thought you might know what it was. We got gimble lock, lost attitude control. Houston, we’re flying dead stick. Please advise.”

“Rodger, Miner--.”

“Soren, I lost Houston,” a thick Japanese accent pushed through between them.

“Get ‘em back, Mura.”

“The board is overloaded. We’re in the dark.”

“Not what I wanted to hear, Mura. Use that 195 I.Q. and get the comms back online.”

Her eyes closed as she nodded.

“What do you need me to do?” Soren asked.

She unclipped the fasteners on the communications panel and folded it down. A blackened and partially melted high-voltage regulator appeared, “I found it, Soren. We are not getting communications back. However, I can rig it to send Morse code. It is slow and cumbersome.”

“It’ll have to do. I’m going to get control of this bucket.”

The Flight Director rested his hands on his waist. He directed his voice toward a man seated behind a console marked CAPCOM, “What happened to the comms?”

“The signal just went dead. I assume the panel was damaged in the collision.”

The Flight Director ordered, “PAO (Public Affairs Officer,) You may leave, Sir. From here on out anything said is classified until further notice.”

A man nodded, removed his headset, and left the room.

A woman stood up, “Flight, Fido (flight dynamics officer), I have commandeered an Air Force Satellite and aimed its scopes at the ship. It’s leaking something luminous from the capsule. It’s enveloping it.”

“Payload, Flight, “Do you know of a luminous substance aboard my ship?”

“Flight, “Classified material, Chronometric particles. JAXA (Japanese Aerospace and Exploration Agency) were testing their effects on organic materials. The pods were sealed and weren’t to be tampered with by the crew. The particles are potentially dangerous.”

“Fido, Flight, They’re they’re gone!”

The director rounded the end of a table and jogged to the woman, “What do you mean, they’re gone?”

“The particles enveloped the ship and there was a flash, and they’re gone.”

The director slew the scopes and all that was seen on the monitor was black space. He tossed his glasses on the table and rubbed his eyes.

“Soren, what is wrong with what I’m seeing?” Mura asked while she peered out the port.

The Commander moved to her position and looked outside. That’s the Earth.”

“Yes. It is not supposed to be there. We are too close.”

He looked back through the port. We’re getting closer.” Soren pointed at the comms panel and said, “Close that up, get your suit on. It’s going to be a rough ride.”

“We can’t be at the right angle, we will bounce off the atmosphere or the friction will burn through the hull.”

“Believe me, that’s foremost on my mind,” Soren said as he popped the breaker on the navigation computer and reset it.”

“That’s not advisable without the proper procedure,” Mura said.

“Sometimes, you have to throw the manual out the window.”

Mura’s brow furrowed, “Cowboy.”

“Damn right,” he responded as the system began booting.

They both settled into their seats and clipped their harnesses. The attitude indicator continued to read gimble lock.

“I can be a ‘cowboy’ too! Disregard the computer. We have to line up visually,” Mura said through the in-suit comms.

“How are we going to do that?”

She reached up and tapped the fuel dump icon. The pressure from the tank pushed the ship. She rerouted power to the secondary dump valve and tapped the icon. Slowly the image of Earth outside the port changed. “That is as close as I can get.”

A moment later, the ship was engulfed in flame. The ports were obscured.

“We’re bleeding off speed,” Soren said.

Not realizing her eyes were closed, Mura looked toward the Commander, “The automatic systems have engaged.”

“Fancy.”

Three minutes later, the ship struck the ground and came to rest in a dense forest.

Soren’s eyes opened and his shoulders screamed in pain. He looked toward his co-pilot, “Mura.”

She let out a slight grunt, “Kuso.”

“Are you injured?” he asked as he slapped the quick disconnect buckle and moved over to his co-pilot.

“I don’t think so.”

He looked up to find the aft section of the ship had been torn away. “Kuso is right.”

Mura looked at him and looked back toward the missing aft section. “How did we survive?”

Soren unclipped his helmet and tossed it to the deck. It rolled into the trench left by the crashed ship, “I don’t know.”

They climbed from the wreckage. “Where do you think we are, Soren?” Mura asked.

He looked at the trees around him, “Earth, I think.” The Commander removed his flight suit and stowed it in the pilot’s seat. “Let’s find out where we are.”

They walked through the forest and found a road. Across from them was a sign that read, ‘false teeth, $200. Acorn Dental. Two miles ahead on the right.’

About a mile into the walk, they saw an American flag and beneath it a car dealership with a sign, ‘Acorn Ford Lincoln Mercury.’

Soren spotted a group of cars, “Those Mercury Cougars look mint.” He looked to the other cars in the front line. “That’s a ‘68 Mustang. There’s so many of them.”

“Either this dealership sells vintage cars or we just traveled back… in time,” Mura said.

“That explains why the Earth changed position and we weren’t heading away from it. From the looks of it, this is the late 1960s.”

Mura squeezed her eyes shut, “Kuso.”