This World Is Not My Home
By J. Robert VanSickle
Copyright 2018 J. Robert VanSickle
Five years, three months, and eleven days of work reached its end when Nikonas, seated in the pilot seat of the ship he had built, pressed a switch on the control panel before him, noted the indicator light, and made a check on the checklist in front of him. He sighed.
“What's wrong?” his wife asked. She was sitting next to him, in the co-pilot's seat.
“I think we're ready,” he said.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“I've gone over the checklist twice. The only thing left is to see if it works.” He felt a bit of trepidation about saying this, because the routine of building the ship in secret had become as hum-drum as anything about life under the Party could be. Although he had looked forward to this moment for even longer than he had been working towards it, the prospect that their escape from life on Daneel might simply be an escape from life altogether was daunting. Walking up to the cliff, and jumping off of the cliff, are decidedly different things.
“Do we all have to be on the test flight?” she asked.
“There will be only one flight,” he said. “We will be detected as soon as we lift off. If we don't get away on our first try, we never will.”
“All right.” Paradoe got up and went to the back hatch. “It's time,” she said to the two people who were standing outside.
Timia looked at her as she said this, and then looked to Demas, her own husband, in turn. “Let's go,” she said. She turned towards the ship and got in.
Demas, still facing away, reached into a pocket in his jacket and pressed a button on a small device in there. Immediately, a warning tone sounded in the cockpit of the craft.