Curious Sols (The Sol Principle Book 1)

by Myron Smith III

  “There could be problems with ship's integrity in other parts,” John warned. “But I don't want to keep relying on these outdated zoot suits.”

  Peeling off the layers of his old suit, John quickly replaced it with an updated MARC suit from a nearby storage unit. Kyle cloned his friend's actions.

  “Much better,” Kyle concurred, as he made a few effortless motions, not possible in his previous rig.

  “We need to see if anyone is still onboard,” John relayed to Kyle. “Let's pop the headgear just in case.”

  Both men reached behind their head and from the collar of their suits pulled a clear film over their heads. The film sealed itself providing superior visibility along with a breathable atmosphere. Satisfied their suits were sealed, they entered the ship.

  The ship's internal systems were partially intact, a fact revealed by the randomly lit corridors and vidcomms along their route. John wasn't certain the lifts would function, but the ones they needed were powered. The greatest oddity of their hurried journey to the bridge was a lack of crew members.

  “I think everyone must have been station-side,” Kyle commented as they jogged down the hall.

  “We'll know in a minute,” John replied as they stepped on the last lift to the bridge.

  The lift leveled off, and they stepped from the platform onto the bridge. Each chair in the room rested empty and lifeless. The readouts from various stations indicated the ship's systems had overloaded from the explosion. Many of the life-support and emergency systems were either down or cycling power. Double checking the life-support readings for the bridge, John released his head-covering. Kyle followed suit.

  “We're going to have to spend a few minutes locating a working pod,” John stated.

  “Ever drive this ship without a crew John?” Kyle asked jokingly.

  “Let's see. We did have a bridge orientation back before launch.” John replied. “Though I'm not certain how closely I listened. I wasn't exactly slated to be a navigator.”

  Moving to the main vidcomm, John pulled up the ship's internal comm system.

  “Attention all hands, anyone still onboard needs to page the bridge immediately,” John announced on the ship-wide all call.

  An alarm sounded on the Navigator's workstation breaking the eerie silence. Both men practically jumped out of their MARC suits, caught off-guard.

  Kyle let out a breath and joked, “So much for all that shock and awe resistance training.”

  John smiled and sat down at the Navigation workstation. Bringing up the screen he read an all capped warning across it.

  PROXIMITY ALERT – WARNING.

  John jumped out of the chair and back over to the main vidcomm. Searching for the right control, he found it activating the external view. Three-quarters of the screen was filled with a single object – Phobos.

  “Uh, we might want to consider finding the help menu, John,” Kyle remarked urgently.

  John returned to the Navigation workstation, this time searching for something he vaguely recalled from the training.

  “Activate emergency navigation controls,” he dictated to the workstation.

  A neutral sounding computer voice responded, “Emergency navigation control authorized, voice pattern Quinn, Jonathon, Commander U.S.S. Columbus.”

  Kyle looked at the readout on the main vidcomm.

  “It's going over seven thousand kilometers an hour, we're not going to out race it,” Kyle informed John.

  “You’re right,” John agreed.

  Bringing up a layout of the planet's surface, John locked coordinates on a point just off the coast of the space elevator's landing site.

  “Engage emergency thrusters, full power,” John commanded the navigation workstation.

  The ship came to life, its nose pointed now at the planet. Another computer warning sounded and flashed, alerting the crew to atmospheric entry.

  “We're going to get a helping hand from Mars,” John informed Kyle.

  Looking at the display, a problem occurred to Kyle.

  “Um, John, you know this ship doesn't have any landing gear right? I mean it's not even supposed to enter the atmosphere,” Kyle pointed out.

  “No problem amigo, we're bailing out as soon as we're clear. Let's hit up a few of those levels with power we passed on the way up. There's bound to be a working pod. Whatcha’ say we catch a ride out this time,” John said as he motioned toward the lift.

  The two sentinels hadn't taken a step before a voice came over the vidcomm.

  “Commander, what the devil are you doing with my ship?” voiced Captain Sterling.

  Taking one look at Kyle in dismay, John turned back to the vidcomm and opened the comm channel.

  “Captain, we need to get out of here yesterday!” John advised her. “Where are you? Is anyone else on-board?”

  “No, I was the last one,” Captain Sterling informed John. “My last inspection of the ship was far more eventful than expected. The ship was hit with some sort of blast, just as I was double checking the ducks. Turns out they are fine, but now I'm pinned by one.”

  The last bit of information was exactly what John didn't want to hear.

  “Try not to go anywhere, Captain, we'll be right there,” John replied, cutting the thrusters to slow their descent.

  John opened his hands and gave a “why us” look before motioning to the lift. Both men hopped on and started down. Meanwhile, the captain continued to address an unmanned vidcomm.

  “Get yourself to safety if you can, John. This thing has me locked in tight,” Captain Sterling ordered the now empty bridge.

  The two sentinels raced down the ship's corridors, a feat made more difficult by the increased pitch of the ship. Leaping through the door as it opened, John surveyed the large vehicle launch bay. Several “Duck” exploration planes were locked in place throughout the bay. They were to be used by the colonists in exploring and settling the planet.

  One of them in particular, had broken lockdown and pinned the captain up against a wall. Luckily for the captain, the oddly shaped plane had lodged itself in the wall around the captain. A space at the “head” of the duck had left her looking relatively unharmed.

  The two men ran up to where she was pinned.

  “Anything broken?” John questioned the captain.

  “I don't think so,” she replied. “Since you two numskulls can't follow orders, you might as well get me out of here.”

  “So you’re saying we should 'duck out'?” Kyle joked.

  The captain looked at John and said, “As his training officer, I hold you responsible for that remark.”

  John climbed up the explorer and opened an entry hatch.

  “That's what happens when you’re so busy saving people,” he remarked climbing inside. “Quality control goes out the window.”

  Kyle backed away from the plane, just in case, as John started it up. A soft "quacking" sound grew louder signaling the duck was ready to go. The vehicle was named not only for its ability to perform controlled leap and glides, but also its odd sounding engines. The official military designation was the Harrier D-22. The plane was destined to be re-named Duck-22 by its test pilots. An uncanny ability to hover over difficult terrains was a fair trade off for the peculiar noise.

  Slowly, the commander backed the vehicle out of the ship's wall. Not surprisingly, the wall had given out before the duck. Its frame was made of the same super-strength material as the ship's hull. As the vehicle pulled away, the Captain slid down the wall where she was trapped and into a seated position.

  Kyle rushed up to her.

  “If nothing is broken, you must have a heck of a bruise,” he commented as he knelt next to her.

  “I'm OK, it just took off a layer of skin,” she replied glancing at her thigh, “maybe more, on my leg.”

  The thigh area of the captain's leg was exposed and saturated in blood. Kyle motioned for John to come back out. The engines of the plane cut, and John stuck his head out the hatch.


  “We're going to need a first aid kit, something to compress a leg wound,” Kyle yelled up to John.

  John disappeared inside the duck. Within seconds, he exited the plane with a red pack strapped around his shoulder.

  The two of them worked to dress her wound. As they congratulated themselves on their fine bandaging skills, a new alarm replaced the former. Almost in unison, the three of them looked up at the nearby vidcomm. Flashing across the screen, a new warning spanned the screen.

  PROXIMITY ALERT- IMPENDING IMPACT

  “We don't have time to play find the working escape pod,” John said.

  Captain Sterling tapped her fingers as she often did while thinking. Her action slowed as she looked at the vehicle she was tapping.

  “Everyone into the duck!” exclaimed the captain.

  Trusting her judgment implicitly, the two men helped her up into the plane and followed behind. The captain fought off the pain in her leg as she made her way to the cockpit. Then hastily logging in to the controls, she started the engines. Meanwhile John took a seat beside her in the cockpit and Kyle kneeled behind them in the small walkway.

  “Commander, override the system and get those bay doors open,” the captain instructed.

  Nodding, John worked the vehicle's workstation to access the Columbus' computer system. As he did, the captain positioned the duck with its head pointing toward the bay doors.

  “So, we're going to do this,” Kyle commented, trying to convince himself that flying out of a spaceship in a transport plane was a good idea.

  “Piece of cake, Lieutenant,” the captain commented. “Just like the orbital drops I used to run back in the Navy.”

  “The Navy?” Kyle questioned rhetorically. “How long ago was that?”

  The captain couldn't help but play on the Lieutenant's emotions after his remark. Sucking her lips in, she managed to suppress a grin.

  “My arthritis hasn't flared up in months now, relax,” the captain said in a calm voice.

  Wondering how far the captain's sense of humor went in a crisis, John offered Kyle some assurance.

  “You're in the presence of an ace pilot, Lieutenant,” John stated plainly. “Buck up and enjoy the ride.”

  Not ready to let the Lieutenant off the hook yet, the captain made one more jab.

  “Lieutenant, you can buck up or not buck up, but you'd better buckle up,” she said revving the plasma powered thrusters.

  Kyle took a step back to the rear seats and fastened himself into the chair. The two senior officers exchanged a glance of satisfaction. Both of them pulled their harnesses tight.

  The bay doors had finished opening, revealing a clear shot of the Martian landscape below. The southern continent stretched around the curve of the planet contained only by the northern oceans.

  “Do you think she'll hold up to the strain?” John asked, but wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

  “Hopefully we won't rip off our wings on the way down,” the captain countered.

  “Yeah, ducks don't fly well without wings. They don't swim as well either,” John replied.

  “Well that's the only place soft enough to put down, so I hope this one does,” added the captain.

  The Lieutenant was clearly distressed, but not in outright panic. His brain was telling him the commander would love to pull one over on him, but his gut told him the captain was all business.

  Before he had a chance to ponder it more, the plane shot out of the bay and away from the plummeting flagship.

  The duck rattled and bucked as it dove through the Martian air currents. Designed for short jumps, it wasn't wholly without aerodynamics. It wasn't designed for orbital drops either. Kyle let out a yell as the duck felt like it would tear itself apart. A yell that didn't sound like it could come from a battle hardened soldier.

  John forced his body to turn sideways enough for a glance at Kyle.

  “You scream like my ten-year-old on a coaster,” he tried to get out as the turbulence shook his voice.

  The captain was not able to add to the humor. An entirely different look encompassed her face. Her eyes focused on the tactical display while her hands formed a column of strength on the wheel. She was clearly in another zone. Several alarms began to sound, its systems recognizing the flight path it followed was beyond designed specifications.

  “Cut those blasted alarms,” the captain managed to verbalize keeping her focus on piloting.

  John worked to turn off each alarm, one at a time. He brought up the copilot screen to complement the pilot's. From it he could ascertain if any parts of the plane were in danger of breaking apart. John shifted through the external views to confirm the computer's reports. Flipping through the visuals, he stopped in awe at one.

  The rear camera caught an explosive picture as Phobos had finally met the MARC station. John stared at the visual, his thoughts locked on the catastrophe filling his eyes. The entire station, with the remainder of the fleet, was swept aside in a fiery explosion. Without sound, the scene seemed surreal, but the shock waves that were closing on them confirmed its reality.

  “Hold on tight!” John exclaimed, “shock waves!”

  The duck pitched as the waves hit the ship. New alarms began to sound all over again.

  “She's holding together like a champ,” John relayed to the captain. “And I know, already cutting alarms.”

  “Get the nav's best guess for a water landing point,” Captain Sterling ordered. “Put it on my tactical when you have it.”

  John entered the parameters for the nav computer's search. After a couple of seconds, the computer brought up several choices. John selected the one with the highest degree of potential success and slung it over to the captain's tactical display.

  Kyle strained to see the captain's tactical from his seated position. Finally getting a look at the readout his eyes bulged.

  “Can't you find one with a chance of success?” he questioned John.

  “This isn't like your homework from high school,” John retorted. “The computer doesn't do fuzzy math.”

  The captain guided the duck along the computed trajectory with amazing precision. As the plane neared the ocean she complimented her fellow officers.

  “Make or break time gents. Either way, it has been an honor,” she quickly stated.

  The duck slammed into the ocean waters. The cockpit's harnesses strained against the force of the impact, but much like the plane itself, held tight.

  Coming to their senses the three MARC officers saw a new view through their window, one of murky blue waters. As soon as her limbs would move, Anita Sterling brought her hands to the jumping paddle and fired the vehicle's vertical lift thrusters. The duck, instead of sinking deeper, blasted upward and out of the ocean. Gliding gracefully as a bird, it arced across the sky and landed a kilometer away upon a rocky beach.

  *

  Chapter 31 Left Turn at Albuquerque

  Dominic was parsing the data streams from his latest trial when a page from the bridge came over his vidcomm. He ignored the flashing light and continued to review the last bits of information. In addition to the visual page, an audio tone began to sound from the vidcomm.

  “How exactly do you want thrown off the ship, Captain?” he yelled at the vidcomm. Moving to the panel, he activated the visual screen so that he could lash the captain more effectively.

  “Dr. Andreou, our guests will be arriving sooner than expected,” the captain began.

  Reprimanding him, Dominic stated, “It is beyond my capacity to reason why you would page me given my last warning.”

  Pausing a second as his anger stopped long enough to comprehend what the captain had said. His demeanor changed as he asked, “What do you mean our guests are arriving early?”

  “O-Sophia commanded me to send the pods at full speed,” Captain Dranius replied. “And Doctor,” the captain added, “the high prophet was somehow aware of the ruse.”

  Dominic thrust his fingers together and twisted them. He ne
eded more time to finish his project. She couldn't see the lab now, too many questions would be asked.

  “Captain, I need all technicians to my lab and I mean all,” Dominic ordered. “How long until O-Sophia arrives?” he followed up.

  “Her party will arrive in just under an hour,” Captain Dranius answered. “Doctor, there's another event of note you should be aware of.”

  “Your timing is impeccable, Captain, what other event?” Dominic asked.

  “The MARC fleet arrived at their station,” the captain informed him. “All eleven ships docked.”

  “All eleven ships... All eleven?” Dominic muttered to himself, the information clearly more than he was ready to handle.

  A rage began to rise up through his core, erupting into words, he proclaimed, “Blow it! Blow the transport! Blow them into pieces! Tell me when every last scrap of that station is floating down to Mars!”

  Dominic started dissembling his lab, then stopped and turned back to the vidcomm.

  “Send the techs! Send them now!” he yelled at the screen.

  #

  It had been several years since the two of them had spoken in person. Dominic looked upon Dr. Elizabeth Stanton, O-Sophia, with an inquisitive look.

  He bowed deeply and greeted her. “O-Sophia you honor us with your visit. Though my eyes have grown hazy through the years, your beauty remains that of our youth." The high philosopher nodded her head with a smile acknowledging his greeting.

  “The Order smiles upon the blessings you have brought us through the years, Dr. Andreou,” she responded. “I had hoped to see this famous ship and its crew earlier today,”

  “Won't you and your party join in the observation area?” Dominic motioned to the interior of the ship. “From there we can see the wonders that you've created on Mars.”

  “I would like that and to see more of this ship,” she stated pleasantly. “I'm impressed by the technological achievements you've made in such a short time. If we are to safeguard our society on Mars, we may need a fleet of these ships to defend ourselves.”

  “By the Order,” he replied, hiding his reluctance to provide a tour.