Pavel Vinogradov
I watched that light race through space as if it were tangible, stretched between Earth and Mars. While Jérémy aligned the ship, I could see we were positioned just above that white way that seemed to split the infinite. By checking the constellations, I confirmed the shot was indeed aimed toward Mars. I'd studied the stars so much as a child that I recognized every constellation, every landmark.
"Can you pull that lever, Pavel?" Jérémy said hurriedly, while adjusting the Liberty's controls and deploying a large metal umbrella ahead of us to shield us from debris."Yes—no problem."
I pulled the lever with all my strength. Off-camera, Jérémy had explained the next step: we would latch onto this luminous railway to follow its path and ride its thrust. The lever lowered a boom beneath the ship to catch the energy line, like a pantograph meeting a train's catenary.
Iris warned us to brace for the second shot, though I didn't yet grasp what it would entail. I looked at the two of them, admiring the trust they shared. It reminded me a little of my own family.
"Say, will you introduce me to your daughter when we get back?" I asked Jérémy, surprised at myself for asking."Gladly—provided we manage to leave! Hold on tight. I'm going to follow our lifeline and bring the engines up gradually. When the second discharge arrives, the push will be brutal."
The acceleration came on in a steady swell—powerful, regular. I watched Jérémy fly the Liberty: the cockpit was fascinating for an artisanal build. It lacked polish, with exposed cables and hacked-together interfaces, but it had a soul. This ship wasn't made to look pretty; it was made to fly.
"Heads up—the second shot is arriving," Iris warned.
Five seconds later, a violent thrust pinned us to our seats. It reminded me of centrifuge sessions during training. The G-forces were intense, every muscle contracting to resist. The Liberty clung to the cord of light, shuddering slightly but holding. Jérémy stayed locked in, knuckles white on the controls, trimming our course. I noticed he was struggling to breathe.
"We did it, Pavel. We're on our way to Mars," he said through a ragged breath, a victorious smile on his face.
I let out a long sigh of relief. We had just cleared a crucial hurdle. Beyond the window, the stars streamed by and Earth had shrunk to a bright point. The adventure was only beginning.
"Thank you, Jérémy. And thank you, Iris. It's an honor to be part of this.""The pleasure is ours, Pavel. Now let's stay focused. The journey is only beginning," Iris replied."Glad to have a copilot aboard," Jérémy added, still panting."You're short of breath?" I asked, hearing the strain in his voice."Haha… is it that obvious?""Listen—bump up your oxygen intake. It'll stave off the dizziness. I'll walk you through a technique a fighter-pilot colleague taught me: the AGSM. Contract your abdominals and breathe in rhythm with me."
I coached him through the anti-G straining maneuver—a timed breathing and muscular sequence to keep blood flowing to the brain. For me it was routine; my suit already had an anti-G system.
"Thanks—that's better. And you? You seem perfectly at ease," he said, a healthier color returning to his face."Don't worry, I'm used to it. But I'm relieved to see you getting your color back.""In that case, I'm pressing on. I'll keep accelerating as long as I can stand it," he said with a quick smile.
The acceleration climbed again. Earth was no more than a distant blue glint now, and Mars had begun to resolve cleanly ahead. The trip lasted about an hour. I was impressed the ship could remain pressurized with a breathable atmosphere; we removed our helmets and talked freely.
We spoke of everything—space phenomena, life in weightlessness. His insatiable curiosity impressed me. Jérémy explained the ship's power source: a device at the rear he called the Celestial Ring Adamaï. A second ring, Évangelyne, remained on Earth, feeding the light that guided us and boosting the Liberty's thrusters. Because of that link, we could communicate with Iris with almost no delay.
This technology solved most deep-space communication problems, but it demanded phenomenal power. On our screens, we could see Iris's concentration, her face etched with effort. Jérémy apologized for making her shoulder such a burden.
Suddenly, Iris warned us:
"Jérémy, the flow will cut shortly. I'll fire the arrow again in two hours for your return."
There was worry in her voice. On the monitors I saw lightning strike a man, then an explosion. A dull fear rose in me.
"What's happening, Iris?" Jérémy asked, alarmed."I'm sorry, Father…"
Those were her last words before the connection dropped. The light died abruptly, and the deceleration nearly flung us out of our seats.
"What happened?! Tonbogiri should have run for another hour!" Jérémy exclaimed, his features tightened by worry.
I set a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't panic. She said she'll re-establish the link in two hours. I've started a timer so we don't miss the signal. We can reach Mars without the light—it'll just take longer."
Jérémy nodded, eyes fixed on the void ahead.
"Did you see anything on the cameras?" he asked, voice taut.
I hesitated a beat before answering.
"If I said yes… would you really want to know?"
He was silent. Then, calm but trembling:
"No. I trust my daughter. She'll pull through."
I gave him a reassuring smile.
"Then let's keep going."
He answered with a thumbs-up.
All we could do now was follow the invisible path she'd laid—and hope she could still guide us home.