by J J Perry
“Funny, I was thinking my whole life that those two were physicists, not sociologists.”
“But the theories work well in both areas. Quantum sociology.”
“That ex of yours made quite an impact on you, didn’t he?”
“He drove me to think, for which I’ll be eternally grateful.”
“Again, why did you two split up?”
“He left shortly after I became a professor of history. We talked about his departure a couple of times. He just said our curves had diverged. He never really gave much of an answer. He always tended to live in the abstract, so the nature of his explanation didn’t bother me much at the time. The short version is I don’t know.”
“It still hurts.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“What’s the long version, Nin?”
“I’m sure I’ll get this wrong. I became busy and interested in having a successful career in research and teaching. I spent money to look better and time to be better. Both were stolen from Bosan. His professional life was turbulent. He had little patience with most of his peers who focused on minutiae while ignoring the whole. I think that described me as well at that time. He needed at least one part of his life to be in order but the segment I could fix required more than I would give. The conflict and turmoil became too much, and he fled. He said that he couldn’t afford me, but it wasn’t just money. He left me with almost everything. It took years before he was able to relate to a woman on an intimate level.”
“You said once that you became unhappy together and that your time was over. I don’t believe that for a second.”
“Porliche, this is not the awkward, bookish girl I met in Borigine.”
“You’re right. It is the girl on whom luck smiled and made her bloom and who does not accept that your time with Bosan is over.”
“It would take a miracle.” Nin evinced hopelessness for the first time since they met.
“I’m on a roll, Nin.”
16.3
Porliche’s presentation was long, almost an hour considering the questions. It was encyclopedic, carefully crafted, and stunning with visuals that spanned ten millennia of recorded history. It was more than academic in that she captured the emotions, hopes, challenges, and failures of the individuals involved. It ended in thunderous and prolonged applause, cheers, whistles, and shouts of praise and encore from an audience of professionals. Nin followed with a more focused presentation on the Reapers, which she abridged to get the conference back on schedule.
Aulaaona’s presentation began. “We have just heard from two remarkable women whose accomplishments in this discovery were initially falsely claimed by Dr. Poincare in his initial press conference. He took all the credit and failed to attribute any contribution, especially that of Ms. Pang. As you know, we view this type of behavior with disdain. We have recommended that he be excluded from our society and fellowship for a period of three years. I personally and publicly wish to express to these two scientists regret for his behavior, gratitude for their work, and a pledge to keep our profession honest.
“That said, let me begin.”
His presentation was followed by a brief message from Quan aboard Baul One orbiting the sun outside the orbit of Earth and the planetary plane.
“The problems encountered on the initial mission were due to a malfunction probably related to time distortion and has been addressed. Despite the absence of organized, intelligent radio data from our target, we carry the hope of all citizens of our planet that we will find a civilization similar to our own, an island of humanity no longer so far away in our galaxy. We shall return here in no more than two months to report on what we find. Speaking on behalf of the entire crew, we are honored to participate in this most historic event. Be well.”
The crew posed with Quan. He stepped back, and the image of all the crew froze on screen. The view changed to a telescopic image. The ship was but a small dot that resembled the panoply of stars surrounding it. Suddenly, there was a bright flash that saturated the screen to white. A few seconds later, when the image of stars returned, the dot was gone.
At around midnight, Porliche and Nin were dancing and drinking in another crammed, pheromone-saturated subterranean club, the music pulsating into hearts and primitive portions of the brain. They would be there for the next two nights until the meeting ended and the party was over. Porliche didn’t know that Bhat would be sleepless again that night, staring into the ceiling when he wasn’t tossing back and forth in the wretched hell of jealousy and fear of cuckoldry.
Quan and the rest of the crew were in a place where time was strange.
Part Three
17.0
The signal was sent. Savanna imagined headlines in the biggest letters across the entire top of the page of every paper in the world, horns blaring, bells ringing, confetti flying, program interruptions, phones ringing, and communicators buzzing in the world jubilant with the news. She thought some people would hear the message at the end of their day; others would wake to it. Everyone would remember for the rest of their lives exactly where they were and what they were doing when they heard that REAP 23 found the Perfect Planet. Sadly, she realized they would picture four happy couples, each with a healthy, chubby child, landing on some long flat lakebed and making their way to an idyllic grove of trees to begin a civilization such as the one that existed eight thousand years earlier, however primitive that seemed to them hundreds of generations later. They would never conceive that it could be two single women, one of whom was many pixels short of their image. She latched the signal room door shut and floated from the second floor down to Medical to check on Maricia, who was ill.
“Commander,” Ivanna said, “Maricia has hyperemesis gravidarum, exacerbated by weightlessness.”
“So what you’re saying is, uh—would you put that in different terms?”
“She is throwing up almost constantly and has not retained any food or liquid for two days. She is depleted of fluids and calories.”
Savanna saw an intravenous feeding pump and the tubing leading to her forearm. “Won’t that help?”
“Not enough.”
“Do you have recommendations?” Savanna didn’t want to ask, afraid to hear an answer that would be unpleasant.
“She needs gravity and to deliver the boy.”
“It’s a month early.”
“Not quite. I have given her something to prepare the fetus for an early delivery. He will be fine.”
“So I should land this baby.”
“You should land the ship, Commander.”
Savanna smiled for a moment until she realized the med-bot should have understood what she said. It raised the thought that perhaps she was not functioning at full capacity.
“Maricia is having contractions that are irregular, infrequent, but not sustained. She could begin labor any day.”
Savanna neared her, rubbed Maricia’s free arm with one hand, and adjusted the strands of hair away from her eyes with the other. “How ya’ doin’, mon ami?”
“Not too well, min ven.”
Ivanna translated. “‘My friend,’ she said.”
“I’m going to land this puppy early.” Ivanna tilted her head in her curious mode and was about to say something when Savanna waved her still. “I think I secured everything. It’s taken me four or five days.”
“I should have helped.”
“You’re too weak and just had surgery.”
“Thank you, Sav. You’re the best friend a girl could have.”
Savanna would tearfully remember Maricia’s last words for the rest of her life. She didn’t know it then. She rubbed her arm and face and kissed her on the forehead. She left with the start of sights and sounds of retching. She floated through the stairwell back to CAC.
Bitelzebub had determined several optimal landing areas. Savanna tested wing extens
ion several times. They extended fully but with a lot of noise. The tail extended without a sound. There must have been some damage at the slits from which the airfoils extended. She ran double checks on all the software needed for landing. Everything else checked out perfectly. The system indicated all was prepared for entry.
The original plan had been for the four women to give birth in orbit and then land soon after the last birth. The option of landing prior to birthing was acceptable, although the time to assess terrain and meteorological patterns and conditions was tight. She agreed that several of the landing sites identified were perfect. She picked one. They were a couple of orbits away from firing the retros, just a few hours.
Savanna ordered Jekyll up to CAC and had him lock down so he could assist in flying if needed. They had one opportunity to get it right. His deficiencies did not preclude him from assisting in the approach and landing. Or so she hoped.
During the five days of weightlessness, Savanna and the bots had reconfigured the ship from a vertical seven-story structure to the horizontal structure required for landing. At the time, she had a sense of urgency despite the landing goal was weeks away. She was pleased that she had worked so hard. She left CAC for the final visual inspection of each floor. The floors had become walls, and the long wall that had been next to the Long Burn Stage was now the floor. Each bench, cabinet, bed, and other floor-based objects was secured.
For two days, Savanna had started opening the doors between sections. They had not been used during the journey since they were part of the floor. Several were stuck shut, and she had cleaning bots oiling and vacuuming around them several times a day. The fluids they used had deteriorated and not very effective.
There was only one doorway between each section. As she pulled on the door between Engineering and mess, an ache in her lower back started followed by a wave of nausea. She had to stop. She had opened all the doors between CAC and Medical. Getting to the lower three floors required going through the stairwell, which was easily done without gravity. She didn’t have time to work on them any longer, as they were approaching a point where rockets could be fired to bring them out of orbit. On her way back to CAC, she checked on Maricia. She was in pain. Ivanna was giving her something. She left without saying a word.
Savanna floated up to CAC and strapped in as she had another vague twinge. The computer secured everything else. She spoke, “Jekyll, confirm that the ship is configured for landing.”
“Screech—floors are configured.”
“What was that, Jekyll?”
“My speech mode is fault—y.”
The burn went as planned. Savanna had chosen a landing area a little north of the equator in a tropical area and near a river that was big enough to land the craft and not big enough to become too choppy in a breeze. She preferred a ground landing but felt inclined to hedge her bet. She had chosen a corkscrew approach so the landing area could be visually assessed during descent.
Within minutes, the craft began to tremble as it encountered atmosphere. The bottom of the ship began heating. This was used to augment power by driving a steam turbine. She ignored another ache in the small of her back.
Jekyll extended a tail for stability, and the craft executed a slow right turn, eventually heading east. As altitude decreased, the bottom of the ship became hotter. Soon, they went from night to morning. As they passed many kilometers above the landing area, they executed a left turn. At an altitude of twenty kilometers, Savanna extended the winglets.
At least she tried. They partially extended but would not fully deploy.
“Recommendations!” she barked.
“Roll a few degrees in either directions” came from Jekyll. “Allow me to troubleshoot the wings,” he intoned. “It may take several corrective measures. An alternate route is available if the winglets cannot fully deploy.”
Savanna focused on maintaining the course and on a graphical analysis of the alternative landing area. There was an extensive smooth, grassy floodplain adjacent to a wide river, swept free of trees at annual high water. Probably sand, mud, or gravel. But short. Awfully short. The river was almost straight but not good enough. It was a tough call. She could wait before deciding between water and dirt landing. She dipped the nose into the searing heat, relieving pressure on the winglets as they were partially retracted then extended again. Regardless of the action, they were short of full extension. Jekyll nosed up when the skin temperature exceeded maximum.
“Less-than-optimal lift is present,” said Jekyll. “Our rate of descent will be above projections. The ship will be unable—screech—targeted landing area.”
Savanna felt the heat, wiped sweat from her eyes, and remembered the scenario when the wings did not fully deploy. It ended badly. “Options!” she called out as she surveyed the maps.
“No landing areas with a high probability of success are within range” was the reply.
“Then give me the highest probability landing area.”
“It is the alternate on screen.”
It looked even shorter. It was surrounded by low hills with a smattering of trees that could damage the ship but not destroy it. Hopefully. The best final approach would be down a long slope with a few small trees and then a slight turn just before touchdown on water. She selected this spot for landing.
“Not recommended,” announced Jekyll. “Landing zone requires excess precision and is too—screech—deceleration.”
“Put speech in text on my screen,” she ordered. “If we land here,”—she tapped on the start of the straight segment—“how fast will we be traveling when we hit the hill?” She tapped on the hill located at the end of the straight segment of river.
“Projection is between twenty and—screech—kilometers per hour assuming optimal landing in the river.”
She read the velocity could be as high as one hundred kilometers per hour when they came out of the river.
“That is the landing zone. I will control,” she barked.
The shuddering was stronger. Either the temperature inside the ship was increasing or Savanna was sweating for other reasons. Her back ached every few minutes. She wiped her brow quickly before returning her hand to the controls. She increased the rate of descent. She could not see the small river in the forward viewfinder and swallowed her fear. Her belly hurt. A contraction, she thought. An alarm sounded. “There is a threatened breach in the heat shield,” Jekyll announced.
“Where?”
“Under level two.”
“Activate fire control when necessary.”
“Confirmed.”
She flared the ship, decreasing the rate of descent, and saw the tributary ahead to her left. She was a little short, perhaps. She flared more. The visual display was hazy with heating of the telescope lens. The graphic display told her when to straighten the course. It was going to be close. The room was hot and shuddered badly. She recalled one of the final simulations with horror. It had been amazingly realistic.
The ship came down the hill like a chariot of fire, clipping trees, setting the hillside ablaze. She made the correction at the last second, a turn of about seven degrees, and then flattened out just as they hit water hard. All visuals and graphics were lost in an explosion of steam. The ship skipped like a stone once and then settled into the river, throwing water hundreds of meters away. She had no control. She could see nothing. She was pulled hard against her harness as the speed plummeted.
After the initial shock, there was a fairly smooth ride until a hard bump shook the lander, throwing her forward with greater force. They hit something, Savanna thought, but the ride smoothed out somewhat until another crash followed by a brutal chaos. Suddenly, the straps cut painfully deep into her chest, her head and arms flew forward. The floor tilted almost upright and then fell back with a final crash. The screens were gray.
The shaking ceased. Within seconds, there was a long sile
nce.
17.1
It was black inside CAC when Savanna woke up, not completely certain she had been knocked out or passed out or just went blank.
“Status,” she demanded.
She heard no response. She climbed out of her harness. The ship was a tilted about fifteen degrees from front to rear and starboard side up. Jekyll still had some lights on but did not respond to verbal commands. Savanna moved through the doors, observing for damage or other problems in each section, eventually arriving at Medical. The air smelled of fire. Even worse, this room had been partially changed back to flight mode.
Maricia was moaning and writhing in a bed that was locked to the old floor, now a wall. This was not how Savanna had left her, she thought or hoped. She was upside down. Ivanna Gnawcoeur was twitching sporadically on the arched ceiling, docked and locked into her station. Zhivago, with lights on steady, was above her, and Lola above him. Lola was suspended directly over Maricia’s bed.
“Lola,” she called.
“Yes, Commander.”
“Are you fully functional?”
“My self-check indicates no damage.”
“Can you get down?”
“Yes, but I would fall about five meters, and I may hit Maricia’s bed. My docking mechanism is not designed to carry my weight suspended. There is a high probability it will fail if I move.”
Savanna speculated that Jekyll in his impairment had undone the horizontal restructuring. Her brief root cause analysis was terminated when Maricia moaned and cried out in pain. She had to focus on restoring order to Medical.
She shook Maricia’s bed, but it wouldn’t release. She looked around for tools and found nothing useful. On her knees, she climbed under the head of the bed and lifted it with her back as she flipped the release lever on the feet. Thankfully, it did not fall on her. She paused for half a minute to let her contraction subside. Maricia moaned again.