Zero-G by Alton Gansky Read Free Book Online

with the strain.
    â€œCome on, sweetheart. This is what you were built for. A couple hundred feet more.”
    The creators of the Corsair had designed it for speed. During the war, pilots learned a new technique for finishing a dogfight: run. The manual instructed pilots in trouble to apply full power, climb, and head home. Nothing else in the air could catch it.
    Then the jet age arrived and craft like the Corsair yielded to a new era. Still they served in World War II with distinction and made themselves known in the Korean Conflict. Now the plane was an oddity, a gull-winged used-to-be that once knew courage, strength, purpose, and glory.
    An important used-to-be.
    Just like Tuck.
    Before the engine stalled, Tuck rolled the plane and started a dive that drew goose bumps over every square inch of his skin. Blue sky was now behind him, Mira-mar Marine Air Station below. He could see the crowds gathered for the annual air show, each a lover of aircraft or related to an enthusiast.
    Tuck pulled back on the stick to flatten his descent. He was about to give the audience a sense of what it was like to be the object of a strafing run.
    His air speed climbed so quickly that he could use the hands of the altimeter gauge as a fan. It was hyperbole, but the image made Tuck smile. Something he didn’t do often anymore.
    From the pilot’s perspective, the ground rose at shocking speed, but Tuck knew he was the one moving fast.
    Fifty feet above the runway, Tuck pulled the Corsair flat and raced the length of the concrete strip. From the corner of his eye, he saw the crowd raise hands and pump fists in the air. He almost wished he could see it himself.
    As he reached the end of the runway, he took the plane high again, but this time just enough to allow a safe turnaround.
    His part of the show had come to an end and a vague depression — a constant companion over the last thirteen months — invaded him again.
    Reality returned.
    Tuck despised reality.
    He had been warned by the NASA docs — specifically, the NASA shrinks — that depression was likely. They told him of the deep melancholy felt by Apollo astronauts after returning from the Moon. They knew they’d never top the experience. Everything else would be second rate.
    Of course Tuck’s gloominess didn’t stem from a great achievement he could never do again; it came from a massive failure. No matter how many times investigations declared him guiltless, no matter how often the world treated him as a hero — he knew the truth.
    He and he alone survived the Atlantis mission. The rest of his crew rested in the ground. Dead.
    The landing gear lowered smoothly and Tuck brought the blue beast down gently on the runway. His speed reduced quickly and he began the zigzag taxi maneuver every Corsair pilot learned. On the ground, the steep angle of the plane from nose to tail prevented the pilot from seeing forward. The long cowling also limited vision. Tuck moved left then right, left then right, taking sightings out the side of the cockpit.
    A Marine stood to the side and guided Tuck to his place on the tarmac with hand signals.
    Tuck killed the engine and exited the craft. He did so with a confidence and bearing that fit a fighter pilot/ astronaut. A year ago, that confidence and bearing had been real.
    â€œSpit-shine spectacular, Commander.” The crewman stepped forward and shook Tuck’s hand. He looked too young to be a Marine. Of course, they all looked too young to him now. “If you’re up to it, there’s someone who wants to talk to you.”
    â€œI’m not in the mood, Sergeant. I’d rather catch a cup of coffee.”
    â€œI don’t think he’s here as part of the audience.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice, even though no one stood close enough to overhear. “It’s Ted Roos.”
    Tuck blinked. “Am I supposed to know the name?”
    â€œWell, yeah . . . I’m mean,