Firmament: In His Image

by J. Grace Pennington

  “Compensate with lateral regulators, Mr. Crash.” The Captain turned on his co-pilot’s console. “Switch to full manual control.”

  “We’re full manual already, sir.”

  The shuttle swerved again. Then her nose dipped down alarmingly, and she spun out of control.

  The Doctor grabbed onto me as soon as the ship started spinning, and we hurried to fasten the safety harnesses on our seats. The others did the same.

  “Lateral control not responding,” Crash continued, pulling out on the control column, to no avail. “Wings won’t activate, and landing procedures refuse to deploy.”

  Swearing, the Captain worked his console. “Safety precautions, Mr. Crash.”

  “What safety precautions?” I whispered to August.

  “If we crash, the impact will be partially cushioned by the absorbers in the outer shell,” he whispered back. “And emergency life support systems will go on if the engines are destroyed.”

  I looked up at Crash again, who was clearly doing all he could. The distance between us and the reddish brown surface was closing too quickly.

  The Captain unbuckled and stood up, and with some difficulty pulled his way out of the cockpit and into the back. I sat quietly, focusing on holding onto my seat and ignoring my accelerating heart rate. I knew full well that any questions, remarks or suggestions of any kind would be met with a well-deserved reprimand from Crash.

  The shuttle had stopped spinning, thanks to Crash’s expertise, but was now rocking back and forth uncontrollably as it continued to hurtle towards the planet. I noticed a rattling sound that seemed to be getting louder. The Captain stumbled up the center aisle to the cockpit and buckled back into the co-pilot’s seat.

  “Automation failure,” was his short explanation. “Ralston, to the reactor chamber.”

  “Aye, sir.” Ralston unbuckled and hurried back to the tiny chamber at the rear of the shuttle.

  “Is there anything I can do, Captain?” August spoke up.

  “Keep your mouth shut until you’re called upon, thank you, Lieutenant.” The Captain’s tone was not harsh at all, but the words were enough to make August retreat into the depths of his seat.

  The craft began spiraling downwards, now upright, now on its side. Crash was pulling at the center column with one hand and operating sliders and switches with the other. “Captain, I’m going to have to crash land. I’ll do my best to keep her upright, and come in on a long run.”

  “Alright. I’ll give you all the altitude I can.” He switched his console back on, giving Crash a bit more freedom to work on maneuvering.

  I clung to my seat as the craft careened towards the ground. Seconds later, Ralston emerged from the reactor chamber, coughing. “I had to seal off the chamber, sir. There’s a hole in the reactor, radiation—” before he could finish his sentence, a sudden lurch threw him to the ground. I grimaced as his head hit the metal floor. In an instant, the Doctor unbuckled and was at his side.

  “He’ll be alright,” he called after a few moments. “Small concussion and slight radiation sickness. It’ll wear off soon.” He held him down firmly by the arms to keep him from sliding forward and being injured further.

  “Coming in, impact in ten seconds,” Crash announced, moving his finger over a monitor on his left to try to control the glide pattern.

  “As soon as we stop, you must all seal your helmets.” By now the rattling sound was deafening, and the Captain had to yell to be heard. “Gerry, get him harnessed into a seat right away.”

  Mr. Whales jumped up and helped the Doctor get Ralston buckled into a seat.

  August and I picked up our helmets.

  “Now!” Crash called, and with a jarring impact, we hit the ground.

  V

  The shuttle continued moving forward with incredible velocity for several minutes, and we braced ourselves as we were jolted over the uneven ground. Despite Crash’s efforts, the floor began to grow hot under our feet.

  At last we slowed to a stop, and the Captain immediately settled his helmet on and sealed it, motioning to us to do the same. There was a small “whoosh” sound as the other six helmets sealed.

  A long silence filled the shuttle as we tried to recover from what had just happened. I was shaken but not hurt. The smell of pure heat and metal permeated the small craft, and I could feel the increase in temperature even through the suit.

  After breathing deeply for a minute, Crash spoke through his wristcom to the rest of us. “That’s why shuttles aren’t meant to land that way.”

  I laughed, but no one could hear me because of the helmet, and it was just as well. It was no laughing matter, and I knew it.

  The Captain stood up and spoke through his com. “You say he’s okay, Gerry?”

  The Doctor put his right thumb up to show that he was. Then he fumbled for his wristcom and spoke into it. “He’ll come to in a minute.”

  August, Whales, and I unbuckled our harnesses and stood up. I took a second to glance out the window, but sand had piled up on it, and it was impossible to make anything out. I hurried over to the Doctor to help him with Ralston.

  He had sealed Ralston’s helmet, and unbuckled him from the seat. I peered in to look at Ralston’s face, and saw his eyes opening. He looked around, moving his head stiffly from side to side.

  “Do we go out, Captain?” Crash asked, tapping his hand on the door handle.

  “We wait for Mr. Ralston,” the Captain responded.

  Ralston looked up, apparently having heard the Captain’s statement. He spoke through his com, his voice weak. “My ankle hurts, and my head’s a little sore, but I think I’m okay.”

  “Which ankle?” the Doctor asked.

  “Left,” was the short answer.

  “Try to stand. Carefully.”

  He did, but sat down again quickly. I saw his mouth open, as if he had cried out. Then he spoke through the com again. “I can’t.”

  “Andi,” the Doctor began, and without waiting for the rest, I dropped to my knees and gently felt over Ralston’s ankle with my fingers. It was hard to feel it underneath the suit, but I could clearly tell that it wasn’t broken.

  “Probably a sprain,” I informed, standing up. “Not broken.”

  “Lieutenant,” the Captain ordered, turning to August, “I think I may have to ask you to stay here with him. Can you handle that?”

  With a half-second of hesitation, August said, “Yes sir.”

  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. But I need the others with me…”

  “Understood, sir. I’ll remain in communication with your party.”

  “Yes, of course. Call in every half-hour.”

  I was disappointed, and I knew he must be, too, but there was nothing to be done about it. So, as the three other men followed the Captain out the access, I turned to give August an awkward hug—awkward because of the bulky suits and helmets.

  We didn’t talk, but he nodded at me with a smile. I smiled back, glanced at Ralston, and then left. August sealed the door behind us.

  As I stepped out into the open, the contrast between the darkness of the shuttle and the scorching brightness of the outside made me squint. The sun was at its highest point, hanging directly over the grounded Apogee. Shading my eyes with my hand, I stopped alongside the Doctor to look around.

  It was a barren, sandy place, without much of interest nearby. But ahead of us and a little to the left an oasis shimmered, shaded by large-leaved trees, and far to the right an indistinguishable dusty-brown object arose. The sky was cloudless, and the sun shone intensely down on us.

  The captain turned to Whales, who had lugged his crate with him when he left the shuttle. “Troposphere analysis, Mr. Whales?”

  “Yes sir.” Whales set down his crate and pulled out an instrument, which I recognized as an aerometer. We were silent as he worked with it and began to read off the gauge.

  “77 percent nitrogen, 22 percent oxygen, .12 percent argon, .2 percent carbon dioxide. Remaining percentage—hy
drogen, ozone, helium, and neon.”

  There was a moment of silence. Then the Captain addressed Whales. “Very comparable to Earth’s troposphere, isn’t it?”

  “Yes sir, very close. A little less nitrogen and carbon dioxide, a little more oxygen, and significantly more argon. But it should be close enough to breathe—”

  “’Should be’ isn’t good enough, Mr. Whales.” The Captain’s words were quick and terse.

  “I know, sir.” Whales pulled out his barometer and studied it. “14.5 pounds per square inch…” he informed. “Gravitation is 1.01G.”

  “Temperature?”

  The thermometer was already in the scientist’s hands. “It was approximately thirty-five before we got here.” Glancing at the indicator, he informed us that it was now thirty-eight degrees Celsius.

  “So, this means we can take the suits off?” the Doctor questioned. Crash and I looked expectantly at the Captain.

  The Captain looked pleased. “Mr. Whales?”

  “It’s safe, sir.” The scientist put his last instrument away. “If you like, I can take my helmet off first.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Commander.” The Captain began unsealing his helmet.

  Despite Mr. Whales’ assurance that all was well, I watched breathlessly as he lifted the helmet from his head. Of course he could always put the helmet right back on again if anything started going wrong—but it was still dangerous. I felt the Doctor stiffen beside me, ready to rush to the Captain’s side if something happened.

  Off came the helmet, and the Captain cautiously took a deep breath. After an uneasy moment for the rest of us, he smiled and gestured for us to follow his example.

  When I removed my helmet, the hot air met my skin and I breathed it in hesitantly. It didn’t seem different from the air I was used to breathing on the Surveyor.

  Crash, as usual, was the first to comment. “I suppose you think this means that there must be aliens here.”

  The Captain only smiled. He was clearly in too good of a mood to let Crash beguile him into an argument. “Mr. Whales, you can begin those scans now.” He pulled off his suit and fitted it neatly into his pack, then used his communicator to tell August and Ralston the air was safe.

  By the time we had all gotten out of our suits, Mr. Whales was ready with a direction for us. After we’d walked a few steps over the hot sand I shed my jacket, and the Doctor took his off and stuffed it into his pack. It was very hot there, but at least it wasn’t likely to get too much hotter, being the middle of the day.

  There was little variety as we walked along, and the only real conversation was between the Captain and Whales, as they tried to ascertain where we might find life. The Captain seemed almost giddy with excitement, although he tried not to show it. Crash strolled along jauntily, as confident as ever. Whales was business-like, as usual, and didn’t seem to care much one way or the other. The Doctor, who had fallen to the rear along with me, kept his own council, but I saw his eyebrows furrowing as he looked around, and I presumed that he was wondering the same things I was. What would we find out there? Also, how were we going to get back? What had happened to make us crash, anyway? So far, the Captain hadn’t said anything about it, choosing to ignore the problem for the present.

  We moved towards the tall, dust-colored object I had noticed before, but we were still a good five hundred meters from it, at least. Looking behind us, I could barely make out the shuttle, which appeared about to be the size of my palm.

  As we walked, we came across a few large rocks situated here and there, all the same color as the sand. Now and then a colorless, bulky plant appeared, and Mr. Whales stopped to examine one. It was about two and a third meters tall, and a pale green color. It had a wide trunk and rounded, stubby branches sticking out every which way. He was unable to classify the plant, though he said it was close to earth cactaceae. We moved on.

  “Crash?” My voice broke the long silence as we trudged on.

  “Hmmm?”

  “What do you think that is?” I pointed at the tall structure-like object ahead.

  “It’s not an alien spacecraft, I know that much.” His voice was cocky and sarcastic.

  “I didn’t ask you what it wasn’t. I asked what it was.”

  The Captain laughed and Crash shrugged. “We’ll get there soon enough, and then we’ll see.”

  There was another long silence, and then I touched the Doctor’s arm. “I’m going to stop for a minute and take off my leggings.”

  He nodded and rubbed his arm across his damp forehead. “Quickly.”

  The small group moved on, and I sat in the sand to pull off my boots and my thick black leggings, which were becoming soaked with sweat. After I’d taken them off, I sat for a moment, wiggling my bare toes in the sand. But I soon began to get hot from contact with the sun-soaked ground, so I quickly dusted off the sand and yanked my boots back on.

  “Andi, come on.” The far-away sound of the Doctor’s voice told me he was further away than I’d thought. Looking up, I saw that the group had moved a good ten meters away. I stood up, grabbed my leggings and shoved them hastily in my pack.

  Leaning over the pack, I had some trouble closing it. Finally I strapped it shut, and in one swift motion swung it onto my back while turning toward the group as I looked up.

  I should have looked up before I turned. To my indescribable shock, when I looked up I was confronted with an unfamiliar face.

  I opened my mouth to scream, but a tawny hand covered my mouth before I could get any sound out, and I was left looking wide-eyed into the eyes in front of me.

  VI

  Despite my fear and disbelief, I was able to take in some facts about the person—if it was a person—who had confronted me. It certainly looked like a human being. It appeared to be a young man, a few inches taller than me, with dark brown eyes and curly jet-black hair. He stared at me, and I saw mirrored on his face the same astonishment and confusion that I felt.

  He was dressed in a dull green tunic that fell to his knees, belted at the waist with what looked like a giant blade of grass. His coarse pants were a dull brown, and his greenish shoes looked a bit like Native American Moccasins. The clothes were dusty and worn, and the cap on his head looked faded.

  Then he spoke to me. I remember the words to this day. “Me phobetheis, ou gar se kakos poieso.”

  I stared at him, still in a state of shock. The creature, human or not, was intelligent. It could speak.

  We had found intelligent life on another planet.

  In the moment, the fact that our mission had been successful was the primary fact that impressed itself on my mind. I felt more excitement than fright.

  Slowly, the hand was lowered, and the young man pointed a forefinger at himself. “Elasson,” he said slowly.

  Was he telling me his name, race, or something else? I couldn’t be sure, but from the earnest look on his face, I felt sure that it was his name. “Andi,” I said back, pointing to myself.

  “An-dee?” he pronounced slowly, eyebrows furrowed, pointing at me. “Andria?”

  I shook my head. “Andi.”

  “Andi.” He thought about this, and then pointed over his shoulder, where the group of men was retreating into the distance. “Andi?” he asked, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

  I thought I understood. He wondered if “Andi” meant just me, or all those who had landed. I shook my head.

  “Andi.” Nodding, he pointed back at me.

  I smiled. I was about to try to say something else, when a yell from behind startled me. I turned around and saw two other men, older than this one, rushing towards me.

  Looking into the young man’s face again, I saw concern there. He looked back at me. Saying something to me in that strange language again, he patted me on the shoulder and ran towards the other men.

  I watched breathlessly as they argued—I assumed they were arguing, by the raised voices and vehement motions on both sides. Hopefully he was telling them not to hurt
me, and hopefully he’d be successful. They were dressed in much the same manner as he was, but they didn’t have anything on their heads. Perhaps the cap, plain as it was, denoted power or status of some kind.

  “Andi!” the Doctor’s voice broke through the noise, and I turned to see him rushing up to me. “What in the name—”

  “I don’t know, I’m not sure.” I took his offered arm and drew close to him as the others hurried up. “All I know is, that young one spoke to me—I couldn’t understand him, but I think he said his name was Elasson.”

  The Captain’s face was a struggle between elation and concern. He and Crash were the only members of the party with blasters, and they unsheathed them and held them ready. Whales and the Doctor looked at each other, then at the men in front of us.

  “Phere, idiowtes,” called one of the newcomers to the young man I’d spoken with, and started towards us. The third man seemed to find this quite funny, and laughed at Elasson before following his partner.

  The three walked up to us silently, eyeing our little group all the while. With the four men standing protectively in front of me, I no longer felt nervous. What puzzled me now that I thought about it was the question of where these men had come from. We could see for kilometers.

  The man who had called out the words that were evidently so funny stood staring at the Captain.

  “We’re peaceful visitors,” the Captain said at last, despite the carefully poised blaster in his hand. “We mean you no harm.”

  The three strangers stared, and then the man in front turned to his companion. “Elithios houtosi.” His tone was disdainful as he pronounced the words, whatever they were.

  “They don’t understand us.” The Captain fingered his blaster as he mused. “I wonder who their leader is.”

  “And how many of them are there,” Whales added.

  Crash was silent.

  “And what they are,” the Captain mused.

  “They’re men, Trent,” the Doctor said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Having been one yourself for over twenty years, I’d think you’d know that.”