Alpha Centauri: First Landing (T-Space: Alpha Centauri Book 1)

by Alastair Mayer

  “But the fossil record—” Darwin began.

  Drake raised his hand to forestall the argument. “Okay, perhaps not Earth. That’s a side issue. The main point, the big stinking megatherium in the room, is this: Whoever did this had capabilities way beyond ours, and had them millions of years ago. Where are they now, and more to the point, do they know that we’re here now?”

  “Do you think that they—whoever or whatever they are—are a threat?”

  “If they’re still around—and frankly I hope they’re long gone—I think that they could squash us like a bug without even noticing, perhaps unintentionally. ‘Planet sterilizing event’, that’s what you said, right Sawyer? Now, since nobody seems to be around here at the moment, perhaps they are long gone. Or perhaps they are here but in ways unobservable by us. Ascended to a higher plane, uploaded their consciousness to nanomachine swarms, perfected invisibility, or whatever.

  “However, even with the best of intentions, or no intentions at all, if they could control that kind of energy then, then they could be that much more powerful now. It’s like a mouse sharing a bed with an elephant. The elephant isn’t going to notice what the mouse does, but if the elephant twitches that mouse could be crushed. Okay, maybe that’s not exactly how it goes, but you get the idea.”

  “So what are you suggesting?”

  Drake gave a gentle shake of his head. “That’s mostly above my pay grade, for which I am deeply thankful. But we won’t be able to keep it quiet once we return to Earth. Our data will speak for itself, even if we try to hush up our conclusions. And yet Earth certainly doesn’t need the kind of rampant speculation, hysteria, fanaticism, culture shock or whatever else we might get if this gets out in an uncontrolled fashion. It will need to be broken to the public slowly, let them get used to it a little bit at a time. Meanwhile I think the leaders of the world need to get their heads together and think about what this means for humanity as a whole.”

  Drake paused, letting that sink in, then continued. “‘Planet sterilizing event.’ You know, the man this ship is named after, Robert Anson Heinlein, once said something like ‘the Earth is too small and fragile a basket for humanity to keep all its eggs in’. He was right—the Unholy War almost proved that—but he was thinking too small. The solar system is too small and fragile a basket. We’ve found a place, perhaps two, where we can set up another basket.” That triggered another round of murmuring, and he held up a hand, palm out, to quell it. “Yes, assuming the original builders have abandoned the place. That seems to be a reasonable assumption; we haven’t found anything smarter than the tree-squids.”

  Sawyer knew that the biologists insisted that they were closer to octopus than to squid, but the name tree-squid had stuck.

  Drake continued: “We need to find more such baskets—and see if we can figure out just who the original builders were and what else they may have done. The interstellar exploration program must continue.”

  Damn right, Sawyer thought.

  “It’s either that or everybody is going to be so scared of what we might find out here that they’ll all hide their collective heads up their asses and we’ll never leave the Solar System again,” Drake said.

  We can’t let that happen.

  “Come on, let’s go home and find out what it’s going to be.” Drake looked around at the assembled crew, as if preparing to dismiss them.

  Now or never. “Sir?” Sawyer broke in before Drake could finish. “If I may suggest something?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I want to re-raise the point I made a few weeks ago, before the first landing.”

  Drake’s eyes tightened. He had probably guessed what was coming, but he gave a slight nod. “Go ahead.”

  “We still have landers. We don’t need three starships to carry everyone back to Earth, especially if some of them stay here.” She heard a couple of indrawn breaths, people who she hadn’t already approached about this because she didn’t think they’d be interested, but aside from a quick glance around she stayed focused, respectfully, on Franklin Drake.

  “Sawyer, we discussed this before, after losing the Xīng Huā,” Drake said. “I am not stranding anyone here.”

  “With respect, the situation has changed since then. You said yourself that they might pull their collective heads in and never leave the solar system again, but that we need to explore further.”

  Drake’s frown softened slightly. That was good.

  “If some of us are still out here, that would encourage them to maintain interstellar capability at least long enough to come out and bring us back.”

  “Us? You’d be willing to stay behind?” Drake asked, then added: “Not that I’m saying yes.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t have raised the point if I weren’t willing to stay.”

  “Even if it means never returning to Earth? There’s no guarantee that they will send a return expedition, let alone a timely one. New ships, or at the least refueling pods, would need to be built.”

  Sawyer had already considered that. At the most optimistic, the Heinlein could return with a refueling pod and drop it near the lander. The lander could return to space, link up with its Interstellar Propulsion Module—what everyone referred to as the warp donut—and return to Earth. The warp flight took a week. The problem was that as far as she knew, there were no fueling pods ready to go. The overall design was simple enough, but if parts hadn’t already been ordered for the reactor and cryogenic pumps, it could be months or years. Sawyer hoped that spares ordered for the original mission were available, but she had no way of knowing that. There was no quick way to ask Earth. Radio signals took 4.3 years each way; hand-carrying a message by ship was 200 times faster. The best she could hope for, if they even let the Heinlein return here, was that she’d get a status update in four weeks. That was if the politicians could make up their mind in a day or two, which was improbable. On the other hand, she’d long ago accepted that any trip into space carried the possibility of not coming back.

  “Yes, even if it meant never returning to Earth,” she answered, “although I’m only speaking for myself. There’s still a lot to learn out here, and I think it’s worth the risk for a lot of reasons.”

  Drake turned his head to survey the faces of the assembled crew. Sawyer did the same. A lot of them were tired, and almost surely wanted to return home, but a few had shining eyes, their bodies tilted forward in anticipation.

  “All right,” Drake said, “let’s put this on the table. I’m not convinced yet, but I’m willing to be. Let’s see who here, and I’m not asking for a commitment now, or promising anything, just assessing the possibility, but who is willing to be marooned here. You’re all intelligent, you know you will likely have to find native sources of food and endure other hardships before anyone returns for you. Sawyer, do you want to add anything before I call for a show of hands?”

  “No. I’m not going to try to convince anyone to stay who doesn’t already have his or her own reasons.” Not again, anyway. She’d already talked with most of them.

  “Good. I’m still not saying yes, but, show of hands, who is willing to stay?”

  Sawyer raised her hand and looked around the hub at the others. Darwin raised his hand almost as quickly as she had, but she suspected that Drake would insist that Darwin return to Earth to explain the biological findings, even if he let others stay behind. Who else?

  Klaar and Tyrell looked at each other questioningly. They both shrugged, and tentatively both raised their hands. Their overland hike after the plane crash had obviously been a bonding experience. Good.

  Jennifer Singh said pointedly, “I am not planning to play Eve to anybody’s Adam, but I am in.” She raised her hand.

  Sawyer wondered if Singh’s comment had been aimed at anyone in particular. It didn’t seem to be. Sawyer hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but if so – she looked over at Krysansky, the expedition’s primary medical doctor. He caught the look and glanced away, then half-raised his han
d.

  “Doctor, is your hand up or down?” Drake asked.

  “A bit of both, Commodore. I would like to get back to Earth but I am willing to stay behind if a crew lands. A medical doctor might mean the difference between survival and death if the stay is prolonged. If my captain agrees, of course.” He looked over at Tsibliev.

  “Da, this makes sense.”

  “So noted, thank you both. Anyone else?”

  Sawyer looked at the others. A few had already raised hands. Two more went up at the doctor’s announcement. Nearly half of the crew. More than enough, perhaps too many. She’d have to trade off equipment and personnel for the landing, try to come up with an optimum.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Drake surveyed the group. These were people who had volunteered for this mission knowing the dangers, people with an intense curiosity, so the show of hands didn’t surprise him.

  “All right,” he said. “Let me think on it. If I agree to it, you won’t all be staying. Some of you,” Drake looked pointedly at Darwin, who shrugged, “will have to return to better explain our findings and to help lobby for the next mission. If I do make that decision, I will be on the hook for disobeying orders and potentially for misappropriation of government property. My mission was to bring you all, or as many as I could, home safely and not to abandon expensive hardware willy nilly. I will face an investigation, probably a court martial, even if everyone ends up agreeing that I made the right decision.”

  Given their surprising findings, it might not come to that, but it was better to assume that it would. The assembled crew were looking at him soberly now, some almost grim. “It will be easier for me to make that decision if you do the legwork. I’ll give you twenty-four hours to put together a proposal.”

  He turned toward Sawyer. He wondered just how long she’d been thinking about this. She was too smart for it to be completely spur of the moment. No matter, the plan had merit. He was just glad he didn’t have to order it. “Sawyer, I want the landing party roster, justifications, equipment lists, a mission plan, and so on. Based on that I’ll make my decision to approve or deny the revision to the mission. Any questions?”

  “Which lander would we use, Chandra or Anderson?”

  Drake considered that. The Chandrasekhar would never be allowed to return to Earth itself; it had landed on another planet and paranoia about contamination was too high. It would instead land at the quarantine facility on the Moon, where it would no doubt remain as a historic museum piece: the first Earth ship to land on a planet of another star. Maybe when they were convinced that it was sterile they’d return it to an Earth museum, or break it up so museums in every country could have a piece. But if it stayed here, they’d be bringing the Anderson back, pristine and ready to go out again. The political implications, however, of returning with just the two American ships, even with a mixed nationality crew, would be awkward.

  There was also the fact that the Chandrasekhar had been stripped to save weight for the return launch, and had still been nearly too heavy. There should be nothing that precluded it from doing another planetary landing, but the Poul Anderson would give a better safety margin. He wondered what choice Elizabeth would make if it was just up to her.

  “Undecided,” he finally said. “Write up the arguments pro and con each way and let me know which you’d prefer. I’ll make the final decision, and you’ll have time to transfer gear whichever way necessary. Any other questions?”

  “How long after the landing would you remain in-system?”

  “Long enough to get preliminary science reports back, it would be foolish not to do that. But there’s a time constraint on our consumables. Put your recommendations and discussion in the mission plan.” Drake looked around. “Anyone else? No? Very well, confer amongst yourselves and get that plan to me tomorrow. I’m available if anyone has further questions or concerns. Carry on.” Drake twisted his body and pushed off to leave the briefing area.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Sawyer watched him go, her heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and relief. She had been half-expecting him to reject the proposal outright. Had she been hoping he would? No, this was the right thing to do. She wanted to do it. It wouldn’t be easy, though, she knew that. The easy part was over. One hurdle down, many more to go. The next twenty-four hours would be busy. And the twenty-four after that. And then the next twenty-four, until they’d landed on the planet. Then it would be twenty-six. . ..

  Chapter 29: Preparations

  Centauri Station

  They decided to land with the USS Anderson. Most of its original gear was still stowed. They would need the aircraft; of the two which had gone down to Kakuloa on Chandra and Krechet, one had been wrecked and the other left behind to save weight. The earlier drone surveys of Planet Able had turned up several possible landing areas. Some of the same constraints applied. They needed a large open area—this time one that might be used for agriculture if the stay was prolonged—and access to fresh water. The latitude constraints no longer applied in terms of returning to orbit, except that they’d want to keep that option open for when the next expedition fleet returned. They’d also want to avoid any extreme winters if it didn’t return immediately.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  “Elizabeth,” Franklin Drake intercepted her as she drifted across the docking hub. “A word if you would.”

  “Of course.” She followed him to his cabin. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Too many things.” He sighed. That was certainly true. “I’ve been looking at what we’re keeping for the voyage back versus what we’re leaving here. If there are any delays in a return expedition, you won’t have enough food to last you more than a few months, even though we’ll leave all we can. That’s not a lot of margin for a delayed return mission. So what are you going to do for food when the concentrates run out?”

  “We’ll process protein and carbohydrates from the native life. We’ve adapted some lab gear to make a digester which will reduce everything to basic components; we shouldn’t have to worry about protein compatibility.”

  “What are you basing that on? We haven’t sampled the native life on Able.”

  “Not directly, but the drones did chemical sampling and we have pretty detailed spectrographic analysis of the vegetation. We’re assuming the life is similar to Kakuloa’s, that is, to Baker’s.”

  His eyebrows raised. “Assuming?”

  She quickly filled in. “We have good reason to assume that. Spectrographic analysis shows the vegetation quite similar to Baker’s, and to Earth’s for that matter. There’s definitely chlorophyll down there. The drone results were consistent, and it’s likely that even if Able wasn’t seeded with Earth life by the Terraformers like Baker was, any large impacts would have splashed material that could easily travel from one planet to the other. There could be a lot of cross-contamination. We ran the numbers. An organism below the surface of a rock could easily survive the trip.”

  “It’s still a risk.”

  “The biologists are confident. In fact at first they were downright disappointed there weren’t more differences. We’ll know if the local biochemistry is compatible within the first day or two. That’s important—it affects what we think we know about the Terraformers. If we made a mistake . . . well, I don’t think we did, and neither do the biologists. Not even George.”

  Drake stifled a smile at that. If Darwin was agreeing with her, it was a pretty safe bet. “Okay, but I’d hate to get back here and find you’ve all starved to death.”

  “Not half as much as we’d hate it, so get somebody’s ass back here as soon as you can.”

  “That is my intention.”

  “And remember Mark Watney.”

  “Right.” Drake got the reference, he had read The Martian as kid just as had most of the crew. “But you don’t have any potatoes.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  “Sorry, George, I know you want to stay and yes, before you say anything, I know you could do good work here.
But it’s off the table, you have to come back to Earth.”

  “Damn it, Frank, you don’t need me to argue the case for coming back here. You’ve got our reports. I’ll record a speech if you like.”

  “That’s only part of it,” Drake said. “But like it or not, you’re famous, or will be when we get back with the news. You’re in a class with Neil Armstrong and Christopher Columbus; you’re the first human to set foot on an extrasolar planet.”

  “Oh, right. There’s another reason for me to not go back. We had enough of that when we got back from Mars, and we weren’t even first.” Darwin held up his hand. “Just joking. On the other hand, I was in that damn biosuit, who is to know that it was really me?”

  “You mean aside from the name ‘Darwin’ in big letters on the suit’s name tag?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He resigned himself to it. “Okay, I pretty much knew it was a lost cause when I asked, but I had to ask. I’ll go back to Earth. I guess I’ll work on my speeches on the return trip.”

  “Thank you. I’ll recommend you for the next trip out.”

  “Frank, you and I both know that the chances of either of us getting another trip are slim. We’re going to be embroiled in politics and public relations for years. Our experience won’t count; the next missions will be a very different group of people.”

  Drake sighed. He’d suspected as much, but knowing that Darwin had reached the same conclusion made it that much more real. He didn’t like it, but he didn’t have to. Duty first.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  While they were prepping the ships for the trip from Alpha Centauri B to Alpha Centauri B, which would mean collapsing the docking hub and each ship making the one-minute warp jump separately. the landing plans came together rapidly. While this exact scenario hadn’t been dreamt of, a lot of pre-mission planning had gone into contingencies which were not all that different, for example if a lander had been unable to take off again.