Haiku – IX

By Jay St John Knight.


Indigo clouds mask

The rusty November sun –

Boats sleep in the bay.

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And Lo, His Wings Hath Melted.

By Jay St John Knight.


sun sky

Thomas Osbourne stood on the runway before his prototype craft as his assistants checked his pressure suit and ensured all equipment was operating at maximum efficiency. Everything had to be running perfectly; his entire future was dependant on this flight succeeding.

“Sir, pre-flight checks are complete and everything is working at optimal conditions. We’re good to go.” His assistant handed him his helmet.

“Weather conditions are fine, yes? All back up teams are primed?”

“Yes, Mr Osbourne. Everyone’s ready and it’s a clear day out there. Optimum flying conditions, sir.”

From the crowd a sharp dressed man in a white coat emerged reading from a tablet in his hand. His coat was emblazoned with the Sol Space logo of a sun surrounded by a ring of stars.

“Thomas, it’s ready. I’ve run every test possible and I’ve run simulation after simulation and they all come back with a high probability of success, theoretically it’s sound to fly. There’s just one concern of mine.”

“What’s that? If the craft is ready then surely it’s ready?”

“Well we both know this prototype is rushed, it was the last one we could afford and every piece of technology on board has been upgraded using the data from the test flights of the last prototype model but these upgrades are untested. Most of it is fine, however, the engine software and the actual engine systems themselves underwent a significant recalibration and I’m unsure of their reliability and efficiency.”

“The other scientists said the engines are fine.”

“There’s a reason why you put me in charge of this project, Tom. I’ve worked in this field for all my life. I hate trumping myself up but I am the expert. There’s a level of chance improbabilities that nobody can predict and that’s why we have test flights.”

“We can’t afford test flights, Steve. If this doesn’t go to plan then the company will collapse in on itself. You know that. Shares have dropped massively since our last flights and investors are disappearing like rats from a sinking ship.”

“Well at least let a test pilot fly today. Do me that favour please?”

“I can’t. The world’s media has to see that I did this, that I’ve still got confidence in this company. We’ve lost the majority of our ticket deposits in eighteen months. Nobody wants to fly to space with us anymore. You can’t talk me out of this, Steve.”

His stern face melted into compassion. “Well, good luck. Just make sure that you don’t overwork the engines. Keep them under seventy percent and you’ll be able to break into the thermosphere, once that’s done drop it back to Earth and land it. Then we can crack that champagne.”

Steve waved off Thomas Osbourne as he strapped himself into the cockpit and the ground vehicles wheeled the craft onto the runway. Everyone was then ushered over to the observation area and a voice over a loudspeaker started a countdown from thirty. As it reached the fifteen mark a deafening rumble resounded across the complex as the engines roared into life. Then, before the countdown had even reached five, the craft shot across the runway and up into the air. Steve smiled to himself, Thomas always did things his own way.

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