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CHAPTER 11:
Strategic Retreat



PWSJS+ Local and National NewsStream

@yournewsnowNC

. . . amazing video from a daring rescue in Mount Airy, North Carolina. Click here for full video . . . 

George J @spacefan

Hey, @SpaceForceOfficial, is that Colonel Shepard? Wow, talk about recovery!

USSF Public Information Office @SpaceForceOfficial

@spacefan, US Space Force is unable to comment at this time.
Please see our website for the latest news and exciting opportunities in the Space Force!

George J @spacefan

@SpaceForceOfficial, typical non-response.

Thanks a lot.

ChirpChat, July 2041


Glenn was prepared for a dressing down, but not the fuss that came in the aftermath of the rescue. Marty was obviously upset that Glenn had injured himself. Medical scans showed muscle strain and stressed bone around the attachments to his bionics. There was minor damage to the artificial limbs themselves, aside from the damaged SymSkyn. All of that could be fixed easily with therapy and replacing a few minor parts.

What he was not prepared for was the public relations furor. He hadn’t noticed, but a local news reporter had come on the scene while they were in the middle of the rescue, and there were pictures of Glenn doing his strongman-lift of the car in the local newspaper. The headline read “Astronaut Hero,” but a subheading asked, “More Machine than Human?” Glenn’s retirement from the Space Force was still recent and Command could still decide to throw the book at him. Despite the positive aspects of being hailed a hero, the revelation of his bionics—even though they didn’t report the full extent—made Command rather nervous.

It started with interviews and briefings by the Public Affairs Office. Then it progressed to a dressing down by a general’s aide supposedly from the office of the Chief of Space Operations. After that came testimony in front of closed-door sessions of the Defense Appropriations Committee, the Health Care Committee, Bio-Ethics Subcommittee, Cybersecurity Subcommittee, and a hearing on possible diversion of National Institute of Health funds. Through it all, General Boatright stood with Glenn and cautioned to let him—the general—do most of the talking. He explained that Space Force and Congress weren’t looking to punish him, just cover their own asses in case the public objected to the allocation of tax money. Finally, it was over, and Boatright told him to just keep a low profile for the near future and let the official concern and media attention blow over.

Glenn’s overriding motivation throughout all of his recovery had been to get back into space. But it sounded as if that dream was in jeopardy. The upper echelon of Space Force seemed to be trying to distance themselves from media discussions of the world’s first near-total bionic man. The internet had mixed opinions—“Cyborg factory” was one label seen on the conspiracy boards, while “freak show” was seen on others. “Miracle of medicine” was the best one, and the most common due to some behind-the-scenes work by friends in science fiction fandom. That still didn’t change the fact that he had made the headlines. No leader liked to wake up and see, hear, or read about their organization in the morning newsfeeds.

At least they didn’t cancel his training in Hawaii, although it had to be put off for a month while he underwent repairs to his bionics. As far as the military and government were concerned, keeping Glenn isolated for the next few months would allow the furor to die down.

Most of the repairs were simply cosmetic—new SymSkyn on his arm and hand, and on his right leg where it had been damaged by the emergency disconnection of his leg from the magnetic bearing. There was additional worry that he had screwed up the programming which allowed his bionics to respond to his nervous system as if they were his own flesh and blood limbs.

That last part was what took nearly a month—all of the recalibration and tests. Everything that he had been through in the month before his road trip had to be done again. He did finally get his visit with Aunt Sally and Uncle Hoop, which was good, because his uncle’s health was failing. Glenn hoped he would last at least until he finished at MSTC, but was not optimistic.

“The thing is, Hoop, none of the hearings did a damn thing except allow people to make speeches. General Boatright was right, it was all about protecting their asses.” Glenn and his uncle were sitting out on the screened porch at Sally and Hoop’s house in Lexington, Virginia.

“Welcome back to the military, Glennie. The real question is what you think about all of it.”

“Well, Boatright says it’s important to show that I can do the things that matter.”

“No, not the general. How do you feel about it?”

“Um . . .”

Hoop’s right. How do I feel about it? Glenn thought to himself.

“You know? I think I proved something to myself. I’m still a man. Human. Able to go out and show people that I’m still me.”

“Don’t forget hero, Glennie. What you did in Mount Airy was incredible. You were strong, you took charge, you led the rescue; you treated the injured and you and your friend provided medical care for more than two hours until the emergency medical service could be freed up.”

“I just did my part, Hoop. Nik was there, too.”

“That’s what I said, Glennie, you both provided care, but you were the leader, you were in charge.”

“I rather think Sheriff Atkins was in charge, Uncle.”

“Nope, you need to watch the interviews. All of the interviews. You were the hero that day.”

It was embarrassing. He wasn’t a hero. He just did what needed to be done. He was Glenn Armstrong Shepard—a boy with the twin dreams of being a doctor and going to space. He would do whatever it took—once he figured out what that was.


The transfer to Hawaii was uneventful, which was a good thing. One of the changes caused by the extra month delay was that he missed joining the timing for the next class in the MTSH. On the other hand, the Martian terrain simulation was operated by the Space Force and NASA, and Glenn was not in their good graces after the Congressional hearings. Instead, he was allowed to join civilian space training at HI-SLOPE on the Big Island of Hawaii. The Hawaiian Island Simulation Long Orbit and Planetary Exploration habitat had been built more than twenty years ago to supplement the spaceflight simulators which had been very popular in the early twenty-first century.

The first of those habitats intended to model not only isolated colonies, but closed ecosystems, was Biosphere 2, near Tucson, Arizona. From a crew perspective, it was a success, but from an ecological one, it suffered from too much humidity, improper temperature regulation, oxygen depletion and carbon dioxide fluctuation. While touted as a space colony simulator, Biosphere 2 was intended mainly as an ecological study in closed-circuit ecologies, and in those purposes, it largely succeeded.

Two more successful mission simulators were MARS-500 and HI-SEAS, the Hawaii Space Exploration Analog and Simulation. MARS-500 was a joint Russian and European simulation of a proposed five-hundred-day trip to Mars. The sealed habitat included modules meant to mimic spacecraft and landing modules, as well as living space on the planet. It was much smaller than Biosphere 2, and supported a crew of six, instead of Biosphere 2’s eight. HI-SEAS was an American simulator taking advantage of the volcanic slope of Mauna Loa to practice planetary activities as well as isolation. Located above eight thousand feet of elevation, the terrain simulated the rocky soil of Mars and the Moon, and reduced atmospheric pressure and temperature meant that “simunauts” could train in spacesuits and with the same type of equipment they would use during space missions. Crews of up to eight spent four or six months at a time in simulated missions at HI-SEAS.

While MARS-500 and HI-SEAS were considered successful, the MARS-500-simulated “Mars” environment and the HI-SEAS crew habitat did not scale up to developing plans for a permanent base on Mars. In addition, there were continual worries that even five-hundred-day missions were not long enough to adequately assess the issues of rotating Marsbase crews every two-to-five years.

HI-SLOPE was built in the early twenty-first century to simulate planetary exploration missions in excess of five years. The location, high on the dormant volcano, Mauna Kea, was near the permanent astronomical telescope installations at the thirteen-thousand-foot elevation. Astronomers and technicians could only stay at the summit for a few hours at a time. The Onizuka Center for International Astronomy had dormitories at Hale Pokahu, just above the nine-thousand-foot elevation, to allow astronomy staff to stay acclimated to the lower atmospheric pressure. Still, those facilities limited residency to two months at a time.

In contrast, HI-SLOPE was meant to be a year-round isolated facility that was entirely self-sufficient. The intent was for the habitat to be sealed up for five years, simulating a mission to the asteroids or outer solar system. It also supported a much larger crew of twenty-five to thirty people, compared to the Mars simulator crews of six to eight. The original mission had just completed three years when a viral outbreak caused the plan to be aborted prematurely. The habitat sat idle for several years until it was acquired by the Onizuka Center to expand both residential capacity and duration for the astronomers.

Since HI-SLOPE was built to emulate a spacecraft, it consisted of six two-story habitat modules surrounding a three-story core module, laid out to resemble a spaceship with a rotating ring for artificial gravity. Airlocks on each hab allowed units to be pressurized to sea level, the twelve-thousand-foot elevation of the habitat, or any pressure in between. It was later remodeled to house up to fifty persons, and the “excess” capacity was leased to civilian space training missions.

After a month of acclimation, Glenn would serve as HI-SLOPE assistant medical officer for four months. Neither MarsX nor the Space Force were quite ready to allow him to resume duties as lead flight surgeon, but they had no objection to him assisting with altitude sickness, minor cuts and scrapes, burns, or even broken limbs. For anything more serious, he still had to seek help from a certified flight surgeon.

Time at HI-SLOPE had become routine for many astronaut trainees, precisely because of the (relative) isolation and low air pressures in spacecraft and colony domes. Glenn’s official duties amounted to part-time duty, so he spent the rest of his time relearning the particular protocols and procedures of civilian space missions. He was more than willing to spend the time as a “civilian” if it got him back into space. The very best part was that for six months, he didn’t have to see his face on the news, read about the cyborg freak, or talk to reporters.

It was a quiet six months. In fact, for the final month at HI-SLOPE, the chief medical officer was called back to Washington. In practice—if not in actuality—Glenn was once again the head doctor of a space facility.

Now it was time for him to start working with equipment used on the Moon and Mars.


Pohakuloa Training Center was approximately four thousand feet lower in elevation than HI-SLOPE and was located in a pass, or “saddle” between the dormant volcanoes of Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa. The U.S. Army and Marine Corps used PTC for artillery practice and air-assault training. It also served as a high-elevation acclimation center for operations in mountainous terrain, which was why Space Force used it for ready access in the deep canyons and crevices of Mauna Loa that mimicked craters on the Moon and canyons such as Valle Marinaris on Mars. It was a good place to train on Mars rovers, seismic equipment, geological equipment and again, provided valuable acclimation to the dry, arid conditions of sealed space environments.

One of the things that Glenn realized that he had not experienced at HI-SLOPE and PTC were the common physiological reactions to lower atmospheric pressure and lower oxygen at high elevation. At such heights, atmospheric pressure was forty percent lower, and oxygen content in the air was likewise diminished. The absence of typical “altitude sickness” from low oxygen suggested that the loss of two legs and an arm had altered his body’s homeostatic regulation of blood oxygen content. His circulatory system was shorter; he didn’t require as much oxygen and his heart did not have to pump as hard.

So, Glenn decided to try an experiment.

Olympic athletes often lived and trained at elevations higher than that of the competition site; US Army and Air Force teams had adopted those same training techniques for special forces. Adaptation to elevation caused the circulatory system to become more efficient at transporting oxygen than at lower elevations; thus, athletes who “lived high, trained low” had the advantage of better oxygen saturation, better stamina, and better endurance at their athletic endeavors. Five months at the high elevations of HI-SLOPE and another four at PTC should give Glenn an advantage in performance at lower elevations, but he was uncertain how much of an adaptation he’d gained, given his artificial limbs. In preparation for his “experiment,” Glenn started working out and running at PTC to maximize his cardiovascular fitness. At the end of his training rotation, he would go down to sea level to test himself.


After almost a year of living and exercising above eight thousand feet of elevation, his body was at its most efficient oxygen-carrying capacity. The best long-distance run he had managed during testing last year had clocked in at just short of twenty-one miles per hour, with cycling at forty miles per hour. He’d added some moderate distance runs and bike rides along the upland roads which should have served to acclimate his body to the exertion, even if he was not yet in the full heat and humidity of sea level. He would have to acclimate to the latter once he left PTC. On the other hand, he hadn’t been able to do anything about swimming. He would just have to see how well the rest of his training sufficed.

The Big Island of Hawaii had long been popular for extreme sports—particularly running, cycling, and swimming. For decades, the Ironman World Championship had been held in Kailua-Kona every October. The Ironman had been a triathlon with a two-point-four-mile swim, one hundred twelve miles of cycling, and finished off with a marathon run of twenty-six point two miles—for a total of one hundred forty point six miles—exactly double the typical triathlon run throughout the world at that time. Not content to limit themselves to a mere double-triathlon, elite athletes evolved the ExtremeIron competition which used part of the original Ironman route, but increased the swim to four miles and lengthened the cycling to over one hundred fifty miles. In addition to the increased distance, the cycling component now included a four-thousand-foot change in elevation and a fifty-five-mile speed race back to Kona. The marathon component had been replaced with a fifty-mile ultra-marathon. Overall, the two-day competition was designed to test the strength and endurance of any athlete. It was the most prestigious of all distance competitions.

Glenn had never had the time to train for a triathlon, let alone one of the extreme or ultra versions. Despite his excellent physical condition, he knew there was now no hope of competing on par with the top-tier of elite athletes—he would be relegated to the “special” category of paralympic and assisted sports. Still, he had a strong desire to compare his own times on the same course with those of the most recent winners. He knew how well the bionic components performed on running, cycling, and swimming during the tests last year. Now, he wanted to see whether he could improve those times with physiological conditioning. After all, the combination might be important on the Moon or Mars.

The town of Kailua-Kona was on the western coast of the Big Island. The commercial district stretched from the main road around the island down to Kailua Bay, where the cruise ships stopped just offshore and unloaded passengers to spend their money in the quaint old shops along Ali’i Drive. The swimming phase of ExtremeIron went from Kailua Pier offshore to the cruise ship anchorage, and then inshore to a point near the distinctive Royal Sea Cliff resort, then retraced its route to the anchorage and back to the pier. The cycling phase climbed out of town to the mostly level main road through dry lava fields which ran along the entire leeward—west—coast of the island. The route started south, then turned around and branched inland and uphill toward the ranching and farming areas of the Kohala Uplands—gaining three thousand feet of elevation in about forty-five miles. From the town of Waimea, the road climbed another one thousand feet in just ten miles before descending to the northernmost town, Hawi. Many competitors changed bikes to one with a low gear ratio for the steep climb, and then changed in Hawi to yet another specialty bike for the speed-run back to Kona on the main road. The marathon extended from Kailua Pier along the main road to the resorts at Waikoloa Beach, and back.

It was time to test himself. Nik would meet him in Kona and provide support for his private race. The record for the Ironman course had been nearly eight hours; for ExtremeIron, the record was just under fifteen hours total time over two days—one hundred minutes swimming, seven-and-a-half hours cycling and six hours running. Given his individual running and cycling speed ratings from last year, he felt he could cut the time in half. Moreover, he planned to do it all in one day. On the other hand, fatigue from the combination of swimming, cycling, and running would also take a toll, so frankly, he’d be happy if he could manage to match the records of individuals who trained all their lives for the grueling course. He felt that if he could withstand the ExtremeIron, he could withstand the rigors of spaceflight and handle any test the Space Force could throw at him.

He would prove it to them. He was not just fully recovered, but faster, stronger, better than he had been before.

He wanted to get Command’s attention, although he didn’t figure on attracting it here. Before assignment to the Hawaiian training centers, Glenn had been told in no uncertain terms, “Keep your head down. Keep your nose clean. Do not attract attention. Do not talk to the press. Do not get yourself into any trouble or any situation that would get you noticed.”

What he didn’t count on, was the trouble searching him out.


The experiment started out okay, but not great, which didn’t make Glenn very optimistic about challenging the performance of elite athletes.

Nik had all of his gear in an SUV he’d checked out of the motor pool at PTC. The two had worked out all of the waypoints and breaks, and Nik could also monitor his vitals and location via Glenn’s waterproof wristcomm. Glenn started his four-mile swim by entering the water from the small beach across from the Royal Kona Resort on Kailua Bay, where Nik had parked the support vehicle. On race day, there would be a crowd wading out from the beach to the start buoys marking the beginning of deeper water. There would also be course-marking buoys and boats, but he didn’t have those. Instead, his wristcomm sent navigation waypoints directly to the electronics of his bionic ear—including prompts to tell him when he was off course. The outbound leg to the cruise ship anchorage was the hard part. Swimming back in-shore to the turnaround point (opposite a distinctive blocky white hotel) was easier, plus he had his nav system. The datalogger would track time and distance, and sound in his ear, so that he didn’t have to worry about anything other than swimming.

He was about fifty feet from the pier when his wristcomm signaled completion of the desired distance. He swam to the base of the pier, then climbed out of the water to meet Nik. Unlike a standard triathlon in which the athletes wore the same clothing for all phases, changing only their shoes, ExtremeIron phases were timed separately. Thus, athletes had time to change into comfortable—and appropriate—clothing for each phase. Glenn climbed into the back of the military utility vehicle and quickly changed clothes for the next phase.

“What was your time?” Nik asked from the front seat.

“Two hours, twenty-three minutes. Lousy time,” Glenn grunted.

“Uh huh . . . and it’s been how long since you swam? No pools up on the mountain, Captain Dumbass.”

“Yeah, you have a point, Nik. Okay, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“I’ll see you in a few minutes. I’ll be right behind you the whole way.”

Little did the two of them realize that someone else was watching, and would also be right behind.


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