Free Overrun: Project Hideaway by Michael Rusch Page B

everything around him brightly lit.
    And when it was over and the
awakening procedure commenced, despite its enormous unpleasantries, he felt
exhilaration. He was ecstatic that once again he was able to step out of the
tube alive.
    He loathed and feared everything
associated with the experience of suspended animation. However despite this
abhorrence, he didn’t fail to see its importance. Considering extended
durations of their missions, especially this one in particular, hibernation was
necessary.
    For the amounts of time they
were left up there completely alone, existing with only themselves within the
vast dark emptiness of space, it helped keep away the madness.
    Furthermore, since the
scientific medical community finally perfected the cell reanimation process,
the use of hibernation was a means to preserve the youth, strength, and
vitality of their highest skilled mission crews. It allowed for greater amounts
of experience to be brought into larger amounts of missions, carried on the
backs of veteran ship personnel in the primes of their bodies and minds.
    And most importantly for the
mission they were now on, it was the best way to avoid discovery. A ship with
its systems dark appeared to be nothing more than a floating rock. It offered
the lowest possible risk for ship-to-ship or planetary detection.
    Parker rubbed harder at the dark
grime across his eyes and tried to ignore for the most part his copilot
muttering next to him. He was always usually more than Parker felt like
tolerating when he first came out of the sleep.
    But Parker did need him to help
bring the ship back up. So as he did ever time, he said little while performing
his own systems scans. He just stared out into the darkest portions of the
cosmos and waited. He waited for the ship to come online. And just waited for
his copilot to stop.
    While the consoles hummed and
clicked in front of him, the small light coming from the Hideaway cockpit as
always did little to disturb the deep blackness of space outside the ship.
    "Do you want to know what
I’m thinking?" Major Jeff Barnes finally broke the silence while running
his hands through his hair. Blood and mucus dripped from his nose. He paused
briefly as his body violently expelled another volley of hibernation fluid out
of his mouth into the widened end of what was commonly referred to as the
pilot’s “puke tube".
    “Initiate systems check,” Parker
said pretending not to notice his question or that he was still throwing up.
The tube gurgled quietly in the small cockpit while it sucked its contents to
the waste expulsion tanks in the back of the ship.
    "I can't do another round
of hibernation, Jed," Barnes said flipping switches and bringing the
computer systems on his side of the cockpit online. “I just can’t take this.”
    Barnes pulled the puke tube
again to his face and this time blew though his nose forcefully. Two small
drops of blood escaped and floated near his left ear. The gravity generators
had not as of yet been activated by the pilots.
    Parker continued to work through
his own series of ship start-up procedures. When most of his equipment appeared
lit up and functioning, he pulled loose his own waste disposal tube anchored
next to his seat near his left side. The tube hovered next to him for a second
and then bumped silently against the instrument panel when he shifted in his
seat. He didn’t need it quite yet.
    “So what do you got?” he asked
Barnes tiredly.
    “Nothing,” Barnes answered him
just as listlessly back. “No indication of sensor bounce.”
    Parker grabbed his tube and
utilized it in a similar fashion as his copilot.
    Parker was really feeling the
effects of their extended sleep this time around. He tried to remember the last
time his symptoms had been this severe. But never in three of his lifetimes
would he have relayed these thoughts to the man next to him. Barnes had found
enough things to bitch about since they launched into space. Parker was not
about to