To be caught with your pants down—it is not a nice feeling.

We needed half an hour at most to make a reasonably safe liftoff, but that was time we did not have. No amount of wishing could produce those minutes, especially when one has a freaking missile heading in his direction.

It was launched from a B2 Stealth bomber from a very high altitude and at a considerable distance, which was a blessing since it gave us some time. If it was dropped from one of the numerous planes above our heads, (and there were plenty of those circling Pagan Island) I don’t know if there would be enough time to do anything about it

It was so crowded up there, a control tower would have been necessary for any other situation, simply to prevent them all from colliding with each other. Every nation had a few birds dedicated to us, from surveillance drones to fighter jets. There was nothing we could do about them, so we ignored the entire flock. The conference was in session, and who would have thought that someone was crazy enough to attack us during the peace talks.

If it wasn’t for my subjective time displacement, that would have been the end. The thing was a freaking bunker buster. If it hit us dead on, the ship would be ruined for space. Arguably, it has a 100-foot thick hull, but some of those layers are soft, as in the water layer and lead layer; they would make things worse. The pressure that the missile's explosion would cause (once it penetrated the hull), could possibly crack the entire thing like an eggshell.

The only thing that could save our bacon was an energy shield (a thing I modeled after the one Excalibur had). It is a great and very useful system, with the main purpose to protect the ship from the hazards of space. You know, the radiation, debris, and meteorites, which can be a real nuisance since they are traveling really fast. Hitting, or being hit by them can be hazardous to one's health, but the energy shield takes care of that.

There was only one problem… that piece of sophisticated machinery was not meant to be turned on while we were still parked on Earth. The entire lower portion of the ship was still dug in, which would make it burn out. The shield would react from the contact with the planet itself, which is a bit bigger than your usual space debris or a stray piece of rock.

The solution involved precise timing, and a price to be paid. There is no such thing as a free lunch, and the price for stopping that missile would be the destruction of one of our main means of protection from the brutal conditions of space.

Just as the missile was making its final approach, I activated the shield and manipulated it to nudge the missile away from us… it worked, and then the shield predictably shut down for good… or until extensive repairs were done on it.

Arguably, I could have done a better job since the missile went into the ground and hit my volcano cork—head-on. I know, my bad, but I was so concentrated on diverging its path, it totally missed my attention where it could end up (I am still human— I make mistakes). This one mistake could have been our last.

Have you ever stood close to a volcano that suddenly went Boom? Well… don’t! Even if you are a hardcore adrenaline junkie, I would advise against it. That thing was thunderous and it shook the entire island like crazy. If it weren’t for our thick hull, I think every single man, woman, and child would have gone permanently deaf. Those people on the ships will have some serious hearing damage. Even heavy metal concerts are quiet in comparison.

The emergency liftoff I initiated as soon as the missile missed us, was not as quick as I would have wanted. This ship definitely has one heavy ass, and despite the strength of the Gravity-engines that could propel it to unbelievable speeds in space, they were fighting the entire pull of Earth’s gravity, which is quite considerable once you start treating megatons as pounds. (At that moment I was not a great fan of gravity, in fact, I think I called her a clingy bitch.)

It would be OK if we executed a controlled takeoff, but this was, Get the Hell out of Dodge, kind of situation, the same one the population of Pompeii found themselves in when Vesuvius started acting out. I had no intention of us ending up like them, but our ascent was measured in inches at first.

The engineering level and the drives were working within specs. I think they would have been fine if it was not for one small thing… the freaking pyroclastic flow that was hurtling in our direction.

Forget about the missiles and other toys, this thing was a monster. It is a fast-moving current of hot gas and volcanic matter that can reach the speed of 430 mph (700 km/h), and it tends to be a bit on the warm side.

Well, it originated from a volcano so it makes sense, but exposing my brand-new spaceship to the temperatures of 1,830 °F (1,000 °C) was not something I planned for, especially without an energy shield. If it caught up with us—we were done. It would act like a superglue that hardens really fast, and we would have been stuck inside, and cooked. It was coming too fast, and our ascent was too slow, so I did the only thing I could. (With a little warning to the damageable goods on-board, a.k.a. the people.)

I goosed the engines to 150% of the power. That additional 50 % was running them in the red, and like a steam engine that held too much pressure than it was designed for, some things were damaged. It was a good thing that everyone was evacuated from the engine level or we would have had many fatalities.

Pipes burst, some coolant spilled all over the place, and it was not generally a good place for sustaining life, for a while. (That happens when you force the machines to go over their safety parameters.)

If I was not an AI (that can control things insanely fast), those engines would have broken down, and we would have been slammed back into the warm embrace of Mother Earth.

That jolt of acceleration made people fall down, breaking bones and placed many on the injured list. I gave the order for all to lie on the ground just before accelerating, and that helped a great deal (not everyone listens to warnings, some people just know better).

The ship managed to escape that hellish conflagration of elements, but not entirely unscathed.

The lower half of the hull was nicely toasted, and all sensors and holographic emitters were fried. Not to mention that we managed to acquire a nice coating of sticky dust that did not look like much, but distributed on the entire surface of the ship, it added a considerable weight. On the other hand, we were insanely heavy anyway, so a few tons here and there were negligible.

About then, the lava bombs started hitting us.

When a volcano blows, it is something like a shotgun that expels all those nice drops of superheated melted rock, and as Isaac Newton said: “What goes up must come down.”

Well, it did, and it hit us hard. A human being (or an elephant) would be instantly killed if one of those things fell on its head.

I made light of the entire situation when I spoke with Michael, but those things were big and sticky. They splattered on the ship’s surface, breaking the hardened outer shell and releasing the melted rock, on my new and polished hull. (Ever scratched the paint job of a car you just bought? What can you do… just one more thing to fix after things calmed down a bit).

I veered the ship to the side to escape additional hits, and a few minutes later, we were out of the danger zone.

It is always in that moment when you feel that you have won and can finally put your feet up, that something additional happens to ruin your day. That came in the form of another missile, this time it was a freaking SLBM (for those among you who are acronym impaired, it stands for a Submarine-launched ballistic missile).

One of my satellites got a good look at it and I identified it as UGM-133 Trident II, a 44 ft. long monster that cost almost 40 million dollars a pop.

That jerk, Philip Cain, really wanted to finish us off, and no, I didn't have any doubts that this was his work.

Well, one of my empty transporters intercepted it, only to discover that it was equipped with a freaking nuclear warhead. I felt like I wanted to wring someone's neck. To be targeted by a nuke was not something I personally enjoyed. Ares wanted to wipe out the entire USA’s infrastructure in retaliation, but he is going through that teenage rebellion phase, so it is understandable.

The number of sensors I had left was minuscule in comparison with the amount I started with. Between the volcano, lava bombs, and now a nuclear blast, I was flying pretty much blind. A few transporters had to be flown around the ship so I could see where I was going, the rest was applied math.

We were finally in space, just like Michael and I planned long ago. The fact that the energy shield was gone was not so drastic at the moment, there were enough layers in the hull to protect us from the space radiation, but I would feel much safer when that was repaired.

I set a much higher orbit, to be on the safe side from those idiots on Earth. We needed the time to recuperate and to fix all the things our rough ascension has caused. It will be a work of months to finish the ship to be up to spec (and by that, I mean my over-engineered, multiple redundant specs).

We will get there; God knows we have enough stored materials in the empty levels.

In addition, the hospital was filled to almost half capacity, I planned it to serve a larger population, but I didn't think so many people would be injured at the same time. Some redesigns are in order.

Right now, Michael needs to have a conversation with other members of the inner circle, and to reveal some things to them.

They are not exactly secrets, but we wanted to reach space first before we sprung any more surprises on them and explain the entire system we decided to set up. I hope they would not have any adverse reactions to it.

You never know, people tend to act erratically under certain conditions.