Angel City Blues by Jeff Edwards

Author:Jeff Edwards [Edwards, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Crime & Mystery Fiction, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9781939398284
Google: xs2rCgAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1939398282
Goodreads: 23299019
Publisher: Stealth
Published: 2014-09-08T12:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

The pneumatic cushions softened the shock considerably, but acceleration made every breath an effort.

The carefully-padded data-shades pushed against my face with nearly painful force. News stories continued to flicker in front of my eyes, ignored. I flexed my fingers, cycling through channels until the shuttle’s tail camera appeared. I found myself staring down a silver-white pillar of fire, the runway lights of LAX falling away into darkness. The domes of Los Angeles lay like a scattering of fat gumdrops, unevenly illuminated from within. I watched them recede until they dwindled out of sight.

I switched to the ventral cameras. The world was not the pretty beach-ball sized sphere that they show on orbital vacation commercials. From this altitude, it was a dark and dominating presence. The curvature of the surface was easily visible now, but the Earth was still quite clearly the ground. It looked like it could reach up and swat us anytime it wanted.

A couple of more clicks of the channel selector brought the dorsal camera up in my data-shades. We must have climbed above most of the atmosphere, because the stars were no longer pinpricks in the curtain of night. They were blue-white diamonds, burning with a fierce internal brilliance that nearly dazzled my eyes.

Something about them struck a chord inside me. Their clarity whispered to me of a universe that transcended the petty squabblings of Man. Of aspirations higher than greed, and lust, and anger.

For a few minutes, I dreamed the dreams of a child. I was not a hairless primate, but some higher being, with a purpose beyond the comprehension of so-called humanity. I could continue my journey toward the stars forever. Soaring into infinity. Away from evil. Away from Nine-fingers and his murderous cronies. Away from a civilization that could not seem to stop eating itself alive.

After some unknown number of minutes, the engines cut out, their column of flame shortening as though sucked back into the rectangular exhaust ports. Deafening thunder fading to silence.

We continued to climb, riding the hand of inertia into the eternal night of space. The pressure of acceleration dropped off, trading places with the plunging-elevator sensation of zero-g.

My stomach rebelled, tumbling violently like a compass suddenly deprived of its magnetic reference. Saliva flooded my mouth, salty and metallic under my tongue.

I had forgotten my SAS patch. Icon-man’s unheard pre-launch spiel had undoubtedly warned me about Space Adaptation Syndrome, and reminded me to wear a patch.

I fumbled through one of the egg’s side pockets until I found a small stash of foil packets. I tore one of the packets open, peeled the backing off the patch, and pressed the adhesive surface against the right side of my neck.

The drug hit my brain almost instantly, clamping down on the nausea, and making me drowsy. That was probably an intentional side effect, to minimize the opportunities for mischief during the freefall leg of the flight. Sleepy passengers can’t get into much trouble.

That was fine by me. I’d had a long day, and my men’s room tango with Arm-twister had burned up most of my energy reserves.

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