Proxima Logfiles 1: Marchenko's Children: Hard Science Fiction

by Morris, Brandon Q.

  “Any suggestions about how to find our freighter with Marchenko?” he asked.

  “If it’s crashed, the crash site would still have to be hot,” said Numbark. “Then we’d be able to see him in the infrared.”

  “Two-thirds of the surface is covered with clouds,” said Adam. “The clouds don’t let thermal radiation pass through.”

  “Then we’ll have to wait for the clouds to pass,” Numbark said.

  “That will take too long,” said Gronolf.

  “I looked at the surface on the radar,” said the radio operator.

  “Excuse me, what’s your name?” Gronolf asked.

  “I’m Loknor.” He looked at Gronolf, confused. It was unusual for a general to ask a soldier what his name was.

  “Thank you. Please go on, Loknor.”

  “It’s pretty dismal down there. The surface presents hardly any elevation changes.”

  This also had to be because of the tidal forces. The smoother the surface, the less there was to hold onto.

  “Ok, so no mountain tours down there,” said Gronolf. “But what does that mean for us?”

  “If the individual we’re looking for landed down there, the radar would have to find him from a high altitude. Together with its landing legs, the freighter is about forty-five meters tall. There’s nothing down there that comes close.”

  “Could you define ‘high altitude’ more precisely, Loknor?”

  “The atmosphere contains a lot of water vapor, and this limits the range.”

  “I need a height.”

  “One hundred kilometers, General.”

  “But we’re already right in the outskirts of the atmosphere,” said Numbark.

  “We’ll have to take the risk,” said Gronolf. “We’ll go down.”

  “Then what I would propose is an elliptical orbit that brings us closer to the surface but also gives the ship some time to rest,” said Numbark.

  “All right,” said Gronolf. “We’re lucky that it’s the cargo area in the bow. That’s where it will get the hottest.”

  * * *

  “Two hundred and fifty kilometers,” said Numbark.

  Here we go. Gronolf slapped the armrests enthusiastically with his touch-hands. The ship was about to plunge into the planet’s atmosphere like a projectile. There was no hesitating—it was all or nothing—because too flat an approach left the risk of bouncing off the atmosphere. There were already deep vibrations coursing through his body. The atmosphere became thicker with every kilometer and its molecules rubbed against the outer shell, heating it. Each tiny particle contributed only a trillionth of a degree, but all together they generated heat that could have roasted them if Numbark had miscalculated the course.

  But Gronolf trusted his navigator.

  “Two hundred kilometers,” Numbark announced. “Outer shell is at six hundred degrees.”

  “Do you see anything on the surface?” asked Gronolf.

  “The radar isn’t getting through,” said Loknor. “The vapor—”

  “Isn’t that unusual?” Adam asked. “There don’t seem to be any oceans on the surface. Where is all the vapor coming from?”

  “Perhaps it’s always been present in the atmosphere,” answered Loknor. “The central star is too light and too inactive to steal the planet’s atmosphere. And on the ground, it might be too warm for water to condense.”

  This Loknor wasn’t stupid. He must have learned this from a Knowledge Guardian.

  “A hundred and fifty kilometers,” said Numbark. “Outer shell is at nine hundred and sixty degrees. This is a little higher than what we’d calculated, but no reason to be concerned.”

  The very fact that Numbark was talking so much showed that he was already concerned. Gronolf knew his navigator well enough to be able to tell. Suddenly, the ship took a heavy blow from the side. Gronolf was all attention, but Numbark was already restabilizing the course.

  “It was just the wind,” Numbark said.

  Gronolf laughed. It was great to be alive. It was a shame that the dead Grosnop in the airlock hadn’t been able to experience this. Any Grosnop would enjoy this hellish ride. What if Marchenko had flown out here just for fun? He must have been plagued by extreme boredom during the eight years that they’d been asleep.

  “One hundred kilometers,” said Numbark. “We’ve reached the lowest point in our orbit. Outer shell is at fourteen hundred and twenty degrees.”

  It was hot as hell. And the temperature would go up even more because they’d still be crossing the atmosphere for a while longer.

  “Forecast?” Gronolf asked.

  “We’ll make it through at eighteen hundred degrees,” said Numbark. “But the heat shield will have melted a little bit.”

  That was a problem. If they didn’t track down Marchenko soon, they’d have to repeat the approach several times. At some point the shield that served to protect the cabin from the heat would be spent.

  “Do you see anything down there?” Gronolf asked.

  Loknor and Adam shared the radar image scan.

  “The surface is very smooth,” said Adam. “It seems almost impossible. If you were to inflate a rubber ball to the size of the planet, it would have much taller mountains.”

  “What is a rubber ball?” Numbark asked with a surprisingly good command of the human language.

  “It’s an artificial sphere, about the size of a head, made of an elastic material,” explained Adam. “Usually it’s so smooth that there aren’t any elevations that can be seen with the naked eye.”

  “I see,” Numbark said. “The planet’s crust must be made of a relatively soft material. There doesn’t seem to be any other explanation.”

  “I don’t see any trace of vegetation either,” said Adam. “The planet looks dead, at least as far as it’s possible to tell from this height.”

  Gronolf brought the infrared photos from the high-resolution camera onto the screen. Adam was right. The planet’s surface was monotonous and flat. If there were any structures, they had to be shorter than two or three arm lengths, which was the camera's resolution. The freighter was no reconnaissance shuttle, and all its camera was designed to do was to determine if a landing site was acceptable.

  “What about our objective?” Gronolf asked.

  “No trace of Marchenko,” replied Adam.

  * * *

  “One hundred fifty kilometers,” said Numbark. “Outer shell is at a thousand sixty degrees.”

  They were already making their third approach. So far, the temperature had risen a little higher with each attempt. This was probably because the ship hadn’t had enough time to cool down between leaving the atmosphere and re-entry. How many more attempts did they have remaining? They couldn’t permit their heat shield to melt completely. Otherwise, in the end they’d no longer be able to land and save Marchenko.

  “One hundred kilometers,” Numbark said stoically.

  He had the best navigator imaginable. Gronolf scratched beneath his stomach fold.

  “Far and wide, there’s nothing to see,” said Loknor.

  They’d have to be patient. Their radar could detect just a little over an eighth of the planet’s surface with every attempt. A ship the size of the one Marchenko had stolen couldn’t be hidden, especially not in a world without any differences in altitude. It was a strange planet. And what if Marchenko had actually chosen a different destination?

  “We’re back to a hundred and fifty,” said Numbark. “Outer shell is at fifteen hundred seventy degrees. I don’t think we’ve got enough for eight attempts.”

  * * *

  The sky was red. Now, in the part of the orbit that was farthest from the planet, the central star dominated again with its surface pulsating dark red. Gronolf didn’t like Luhman-16A, as the humans called the star. None of the Grosnop Knowledge Guardians had discovered the brown dwarf yet, even though it was closer to the home world than it was to the Earth’s sun.

  “Time for the next attempt?” Gronolf asked.


  “My suggestion is that this also be our last attempt,” said Numbark. “The heat shield is already so battered that I can guarantee just one more approach maneuver. Unless we want to let ourselves get fried.”

  “Adam?” asked Gronolf. “What do you think? Marchenko is your... father. You should participate in the decision.”

  “Me?”

  Adam looked up from his console. “I... wait. I think I’ve got something.”

  He tapped the screen repeatedly with his fingers. It looked pretty awkward, Gronolf thought. But even though humans only had five touch-fingers each, he had to admit they managed pretty well. Perhaps seven was not the perfect number after all, even though it was what the old legends claimed.

  “Here, I’m sending something to your screen,” said Adam.

  Gronolf leaned forward. A grayish-green image that showed part of the planet’s surface showed up on his display. He inspected the screen and determined that there was indeed a pattern there. The photo was taken in infrared, so it had to be a heating track. Gronolf checked the measurement scale. In human measurements, the track was almost 1,000 meters long and ran more or less precisely in an east-west direction, growing lighter from east to west. Then it suddenly stopped.

  “What do you think we’ve got here, Adam?” Gronolf asked.

  “It could be a geological phenomenon, a crack in the surface for heat to escape.”

  “If this is what you thought, you wouldn’t have shown it to us.”

  “That’s correct,” said Adam. “I just want to be cautious because I’d like to believe otherwise.”

  He paused.

  “Go ahead,” Gronolf encouraged him.

  “It could be some kind of skid mark that a spacecraft left right before landing.”

  “You’re referring to the shuttle that Marchenko and...”

  “Right. This is what it might look like if it had been lowered slowly to the ground using the brake engines with an impulse toward the west.”

  “Wouldn’t that have to have been two or three days ago?” Numbark asked. “And so the heat signature would have lasted that long?”

  “It’s pretty warm down there on the ground, so it would take longer for the trail to cool down,” Adam answered.

  “But where did it land, then? Shouldn’t we be able to see it?”

  “That’s a good question, Gronolf. I don’t have an answer, but I know where we might find one.”

  “Down there,” said Gronolf.

  “Yes,” said Adam.

  “Then what are we waiting for? Numbark, prepare to land.”

  “There’s just one problem,” said Adam.

  “There’s nothing that we can’t figure out.”

  “The freighter won’t be able to launch again from the surface. It just doesn’t have enough power. The planet has too much mass.”

  “I don’t believe it,” said Gronolf. “Who said that?”

  “The Omniscience has performed the calculations.”

  Well, that was a genuine argument. If the Majestic Draght’s AI had made the calculations, there was no hoping that it had just been a mistake. But wait. The Omniscience was referring to the freighter.

  “We’re going to land,” Gronolf said.

  “Even at the risk of never making it back to the Draght?” asked Numbark. “Under no circumstances would I ignore the Omniscience’s suggestion. The official expedition needs you, General. Otherwise we’ll never reach our main goal.”

  “It is not my intention to question the Omniscience’s wisdom,” said Gronolf, “but it was referring to this freighter. The shuttle that Marchenko left with is far more powerful. All we need to ensure that we return to the Majestic Draght is to find our friend.”

  “What if we don’t find him, General?”

  “Then we’ll have to think of something else.”

  Darknight 25, 3890

  The freighter was descending, their movement toward the surface barely noticeable. The jet engine was providing a ride so smooth there were minimal G-forces, leaving Adam’s attention free to focus on how violently they were being buffeted by the atmosphere. The air was about one-third more dense than on Earth, explaining why the wind currents, which blustered around the planet without disruptive obstacles, were so powerful. It was as if Earth’s 500 km/h jet stream raced directly above its surface at five times the speed of a hurricane.

  It was hard to imagine any life developing under these conditions. Maybe Marchenko had simply gotten caught in the wind and blown away? But his body had the form of a sturdy robot, and his Grosnop companion should also have been strong enough to manage on the ground. He, on the other hand, was far more at risk. He would need the help of Gronolf, Numbark, and Loknor. How could he have imagined being capable of completing this rescue mission on his own?

  “Another hundred meters,” said Numbark.

  The Grosnops were really impressive. They were even using human units of measurement because of him. Were they really that nice, or did they just think of him as a useful idiot who could help them carry out their own plans? No. He had to trust them. Gronolf had long ago proven that he played with all of his cards on the table.

  But Gronolf had also threatened to kill Ragnor, the hatchling who shouldn’t have been allowed to live and who had Eve to thank for being alive. He wasn’t dealing with humans, something he should always bear in mind.

  “Fifty meters.”

  Adam switched the screen to display the outside view, but there was nothing to see. It didn’t change when their elevation dropped to 30 meters, and there was still nothing visible at 10 meters.

  The freighter landed. The engine howled one more time and then fell silent. Fortunately, it didn’t know that it would never be fired up again. He felt a little sorry for the ship. It had done its best to bring them here, and now it was stuck on the planet. He chased the thought away and then noticed that there appeared to be some kind of fibrous material blowing in front of the external camera. Interesting. The planet was sharing its first secrets with them.

  “Let’s see what’s waiting for us outside,” said Gronolf, rising to his feet.

  These words gave Adam goosebumps. What might be waiting for them? It had been a mistake to land with the freighter. There was nothing here apart from darkness and lots of wind. But now they’d have to track down Marchenko and his shuttle. Otherwise they’d all die here together on this hostile planet.

  * * *

  The measuring device on his arm read 16 percent oxygen and 5 percent water vapor. The rest was primarily nitrogen, along with a few traces of more exotic gases. Though the mixture was breathable, Adam was glad he was wearing the spacesuit. The air was hot, 45 degrees Celsius. He was able to tolerate it for a sustained period only because of the integrated cooling. His companions, on the other hand, appeared to like the hot and humid climate.

  “Should I take you down with me?” Gronolf asked.

  The general was already out front on the small, terrace-like platform that had been folded out of the exit hatch after they’d landed.

  “Thanks, but I’ll take the ladder,” said Adam.

  He pointed to the uppermost rungs located right next to the platform.

  “It’ll be faster on my back,” said Gronolf. “You can trust me. My legs are strong.”

  “I know. Still, I prefer to do it my way.”

  “As you like.”

  Gronolf turned and let himself drop. Three seconds later, there was a thud.

  “Everything’s fine,” Gronolf announced over the radio, and Numbark and Loknor followed.

  Adam was alone. He looked around, but there was practically nothing to see. He couldn’t even guess what the visibility was, because there didn’t seem to be anything there except their spaceship. He switched his visor to infrared and saw the three Grosnops jumping around wildly. They were enjoying the unlimited space. It must have been hard for them to never be able to move properly in the spaceship. Adam grabbed hold of the top rung of the ladder an
d began his descent.

  The ladder had exactly 30 rungs, which he’d counted involuntarily. It was startling when his foot touched solid ground. Immediately he stopped, remaining motionless and leaving the one foot on the ground without putting any weight on it. Everything’s fine, Adam. Gronolf and the others are bouncing around happily, and the planet isn’t going to swallow you up.

  He was just starting to put more weight on his foot when suddenly something wrenched him from behind. He was flying through the air. Adam wanted to close his eyes, thinking this would be the end of him, when he felt fingers clawing into his sides through the spacesuit.

  “Man, Gronolf. Don’t do that!” he grumbled.

  “But I’m not a man.”

  Gronolf set him gently on the ground. Adam’s knees were a little shaky, but he was able to stand quite steadily.

  “The ground seems to be firm,” said Adam.

  A second Grosnop landed beside him. It was Numbark.

  “General, there’s a small problem,” he said.

  Adam turned to Numbark so that the light from his helmet shone on him. The Grosnop had turned black almost all the way up to his stomach fold.

  “What’s happened to you?” Gronolf asked.

  “Not just me, but Loknor too,” Numbark said. “He’s waiting for us up ahead.”

  Numbark pointed away from the spaceship and went ahead. They followed, and the ground changed a little with every step that they took. At first it became more elastic, as if they were walking on the surface of a balloon, and then softer, like leather, and eventually more like sand.

  Beyond that began the vegetation. It was incredible! The ground was covered with delicate tendrils that grew in a wild tangle to a height of about 30 centimeters.

  “Wow! That’s so interesting,” said Adam. He paused and then crouched down.

  He touched the tendrils with his glove. They were pretty dry. If he were to bend them, they’d break. This couldn’t be normal, because otherwise there would have to be many more broken twigs lying around. Presumably these here were dead.