by Ryk Brown
A ninth window appeared on the main view screen, this one situated in the middle and filling up most of the space between all of the other camera views.
“What are you doing, Schenker?” the lieutenant commander asked.
They watched as, one by one, four tight circles of light appeared along the four edges of the window in the middle of the main view screen. The balls began to swing, one after the other, across the surface of Metis as it passed slowly below them until each light had reached the opposite side of the window.
“That’s really pretty, Ensign,” the lieutenant commander said as Ensign Schenker added two bright green perpendicular lines across the window. “Really, it is, but…”
“As we descend, the ovals of light cast on the surface will come closer together. When they reach the center, we should be approximately five meters above the surface of Metis. That’s the best I can do with these angles.”
“No, no, that helps!” Luis said. “It will also help me keep the ship level in relation to the moon’s surface!” Luis turned his head away from his console for the first time since they had finished their hard burn. “Gustav, you’re a genius!”
“You can thank me later,” Ensign Schenker replied. “Just put us down safely for now.”
Luis readjusted himself in his seat behind the helm console, feeling more confident than before. “Sir, you know the layout of these consoles, right?” Luis asked.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I know how to use them,” the lieutenant commander admitted.
“I just need someone to call out changes in our rate of descent and our closure rate,” Luis said. “That way, I can keep my focus on the flight controls and the displays on the main view screen.”
“I think I can handle that much,” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic said as he sat in the navigator’s chair to Luis’s left.
“Schenker, if you can keep calling out our distance to target as well as our time to line-of-sight horizon with Earth, that would help as well.”
“Got it. By the way, now you have one minute to line of sight.”
“Funny.”
“Okay, so you want me to read what now?” the lieutenant commander asked, looking over the navigation console.
“Rate of descent and closure rate,” Luis repeated, leaning over to point the readings out to him. “The closer we get, the more often you need to call them out. Call them out as descent something and closure something.”
“Right.” He looked at the readouts. “Descent ten. Closure fifteen. Do I need to say meters per second?”
“No, that part doesn’t change.”
“Fifty seconds to line of sight,” Ensign Schenker reported. “Range to center of target is five hundred meters. Don’t forget; that range is from our forward sensor array, which is at least two hundred meters back from our bow and a good five hundred meters forward of our midship line.”
“Can you just convert it for me before you call it out?” Luis begged. “Just add the five hundred meters each time.”
“As you wish, but it’s an estimate either way.”
“Gus, come on!”
“Just give him what he wants, Schenker,” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic ordered.
“Forty seconds to line of sight. Eight hundred fifty meters to center of target.”
“Thank you,” Luis said as he adjusted his maneuvering thrusters and fired a small burst.
“Altitude is thirty meters and falling,” Ensign Schenker added.
“Descent still at ten. Closure at fifteen.” The lieutenant commander looked up at the windows on the main view screen. “You’re drifting right, Luis.”
“I got it,” Luis answered as he fired the starboard maneuvering thrusters.
“You’re yawing left now,” the lieutenant commander said.
“Damn it,” Luis said. “With most of our forward decks missing, our center of gravity is off. Our back end mass is out of proportion to our designed CG.”
“Line of sight in thirty,” Ensign Schenker reported. “Seven hundred out. Twenty up.”
“Just use less thrust on the forward maneuvering pods,” the lieutenant commander said.
Luis glanced at him. “You have been reading the manuals, haven’t you?”
“Ain’t much else to do around here,” he mumbled. “Still descending at ten and closing at fifteen.”
“Killing the yaw and easing her back to starboard,” Luis said. He watched the main view screen as the spacing in the windows decreased on the right and increased on the left in relation to the shifting outlines of the landing area on the surface of Metis as it passed under them.
“That should do it,” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic said as he, too, watched the windows on the main view screen.
“Line of sight in twenty,” Ensign Schenker called out. “Five fifty out. Ten up.”
“Slowing our descent,” Luis announced as he fired the bottom-side thrusters.
“Descending at five. Closing at fifteen,” the lieutenant commander reported. “Descending at two.”
Luis cut the thrusters.
“Descent rate at zero,” the lieutenant commander reported. “Still closing at fifteen.”
“Ten seconds to line of sight,” Ensign Schenker reported. “Four hundred out. Altitude holding at five meters.”
“We’re not going to get down before we pass the horizon,” Luis moaned.
“Don’t worry about it,” the lieutenant commander said. “We’re five meters above the surface of Metis. That can’t make that much difference.”
“We’re going to kick up some dust when we set down,” Luis warned.
“Line of sight in five seconds.”
Luis watched the main view screen. The four ovals of light from their spotlights were practically touching one another and forming a cross on the surface below them. It was like targeting crosshairs on a hunting rifle.
“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Ensign Souza said from the comm station.
“Crossing line-of-sight horizon,” Ensign Schenker announced. “Two fifty out. Holding at five meters.”
“Firing forward docking thrusters,” Luis announced.
“Zero descent. Closure dropping,” the lieutenant commander reported. “Closure at twelve……eleven……”
“Two hundred out,” Ensign Schenker reported.
“Ten……”
“Our aft end has crossed into the landing zone,” he added. “You’re clear on all sides to set down.”
“Eight……”
“As soon as I get her to come to a stop,” Luis said.
“Closure down to five,” the lieutenant commander said as Luis continued to burn the forward docking thrusters.
“Just a bit more,” Luis mumbled.
“Three meters. Two. One…”
Luis pressed a button on his console, killing the forward docking thrusters.
“Zero… almost,” the lieutenant commander said.
Luis quickly switched scales. “We’re still drifting forward at about half a meter per second.”
“Close enough,” the lieutenant commander said. “I’m sure we dock up at greater speed than that.”
“Yeah, but docking arms give a little when you make contact,” Luis said. “Moons don’t.”
“Just put us down already,” Ensign Souza exclaimed.
Luis punched in more commands. “Setting up two docking thruster burns: one to push us down toward the surface and another to stop our descent.” Luis turned to Ensign Schenker. “How close do we need to be for Metis to grab us?”
Ensign Schenker shrugged his shoulders. “I’m surprised it hasn’t already.”
“Well, here we go,” Luis announced as he activated the first burn.
The Celestia hovered five meters above the tip of Metis, nearly centered over the space they had chosen as their landing site. Jupiter loomed large over them, nearly filling the entire sky above their heads.
Short, simultaneous squirts of accelerated propellant shot out of the topside docking thrusters located all around the perimeter of the ship, nudging her downward toward the moon below.
“Descending at one half meter per second,” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic reported.
The four ovals of light in the center window on the main view screen merged, crossed, then began separating out in opposite directions as the ship descended.
“Four meters,” Ensign Schenker reported. “Three meters.” His voice was becoming tenser with each announcement.
“Picking up speed,” the lieutenant commander stated. “Point seven meters per second.”
“Two meters! She’s got us!” Ensign Schenker declared.
Luis activated the second firing sequence.
Another set of short, docking thruster bursts shot out from all around the Celestia, this time toward Metis, slowing her descent and kicking up dust from the surface below as her shadow came up to merge with the vessel herself.
“Half meter,” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic said. “Quarter meter! Comms, all hands brace for impact!”
“One meter and falling!” Ensign Schenker announced.
There was nothing more that Luis could do. The weak gravity of Metis had hold of the Celestia and was pulling her down to the surface. If he fired another burst of docking thrusters, he risked pushing them away from the moon again and having to thrust back downward. Every thruster he fired created heat signatures that someone looking their way with the proper equipment might be able to see.
He grabbed the sides of his console and held on.
The Celestia slowly settled the last meter down to the surface of Metis. Her aft end made contact with the surface first, sending a wave of dust up around her curved underside. As soon as the aft end made contact, the bow of the ship came down and made contact as well, sending even more dust forward and to either side.
The bridge rocked as the ship made contact with the small moon, her empty hull moaning as the forces were transferred through her frame. The shaking seemed to last several seconds but was far milder than Luis had expected.
“We’re down!” Ensign Schenker reported.
“Hey, that wasn’t so bad,” Luis said, feeling somewhat proud.
“Nice work, Ensign,” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic said, reaching over and patting Luis on the shoulder. “But don’t get too cocky. The inertial dampeners were still running at forty percent.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Everyone all right?” the lieutenant commander asked as he rose from the navigator’s chair.
“Everyone aft reports they’re fine, sir,” Ensign Souza said.
“Get rid of those windows and give me the forward view,” the lieutenant commander ordered. A moment later, the main view screen showed only a cloud of dust swirling about the outside of the ship. “Jesus, Delaveaga. You weren’t kidding about kicking up some dust.” He turned to Ensign Schenker. “I don’t suppose that will go unnoticed.”
Ensign Schenker shrugged again. “If they’re looking, maybe not. I just don’t know, sir.”
“Well,” the lieutenant commander sighed, “not much we can do about it now. Schenker, go through all the external cameras and check the area out. Also, look at the hull whenever possible for signs of external damage, especially across our underside.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Luis, shut all the flight systems down, and power down the flight console. Your job is over.”
“Gladly, sir,” Luis answered.
“Souza, tell engineering to shut everything down including the backup fusion reactors. We’ll run on batteries for now. After that, tell them to go over everything. Look for any damage due to our landing. We’ll do the same on our deck.”
“We can’t run on batteries for more than a few days, sir,” Ensign Schenker warned.
“We can fire up one of the fusion reactors every few days while we’re on the far side to recharge them,” the lieutenant commander said. He turned back toward Ensign Souza. “Tell Tilly to figure out how often we’ll need to do a recharge cycle. We’re going to have to go dark and cold twenty-four seven here, people. We no longer have the luxury of keeping our hot side pointed away from our enemy, and we sure as hell can’t run the heat exchangers on a regular basis. I want us to be a cold patch of moon, so let’s get to work.”
* * *
By the time Loki and Major Waddell made it down to the river at the bottom of the narrow canyon, the morning sun was already high in the sky over Tanna. The canyon floor was lush, green, and heavily overgrown. The fact that there were already well-worn trails made the going easier, but it also kept the major on edge, always on the lookout for what he referred to as ‘locals’.
As they approached the falls, the forest became damp from the mist that traveled out in all directions. They were on the opposite side of the lake at the base of the falls, at least half a kilometer away, yet the roar of the falling water was nearly deafening.
Major Waddell stopped and stared at the massive waterfall on the far side of the lake. Even from this distance, it was awe-inspiring. It came pouring over the top of the mesa on the far ridge of the canyon, then fell at least seven hundred meters to the lake below. He turned and looked at Loki. “You flew through that?” he asked, pointing at the falls with a grin on his face. “Are you serious?” He laughed heartily. It was the first time Loki had ever seen the major smile, let alone laugh. “Why?”
“We didn’t have a choice,” Loki answered.
The major looked around, holding his arms up and out to indicate all the open space between the falls and the opposite side of the canyon.
“We came flying around that bend in the canyon back there,” Loki explained, pointing back to his right. “We were going so fast, we swung wide left. Josh barely had time to level off before we plowed into the side of the waterfall. If he hadn’t, we wouldn’t have made it through. We’d probably still be at the bottom of this lake.”
The major laughed again. “Your friend is either an amazing pilot or absolutely crazy.” He turned and continued down the trail.
“A little of both, unfortunately,” Loki mumbled.
“I’m surprised you made it through at all,” the major commented as they walked.
“We entered them pretty high up,” Loki said. “If we had hit them lower, the water would have had a lot more force behind it. At least, that’s what Lieutenant Yosef said.”
“But you were still flying when you came out the other side.”
“I don’t know that I’d call it flying,” Loki said. “More like falling forward, really. One turbine was out. The other two were sputtering… Too much moisture got into them.”
“No surprise there.”
“It really was some amazing flying Josh did that day. Quick thinking, too, shooting off those drones and stuff to make it look like we crashed. Bought us the time we needed. Of course, at the time, I just thought he was crazy.” Loki plodded along behind the major. He had never spent any time in such a place. His homeworld was a relatively barren world that had been reformed and heavily landscaped to suit the needs of his people. Other than its oceans and a few of its yet undeveloped equatorial wastelands, there was very little that was natural about his homeworld. “How much farther do you think we have to go?”
“According to the logs from your flight, the cave should be on the far side of the falls, about four hundred meters up the canyon. The bridge we went over a ways back was the big river. There are three more small ones that we’ll have to cross yet.”
Loki stopped in his tracks. “Uh, I don’t know
how to swim.”
Major Waddell also stopped, turning back to look at Loki. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
The major smiled again. “Relax, kid,” he said as he turned and continued forward. “They’re only knee deep where we’ll be crossing.”
“You’re sure about that?”
* * *
“Bridge, environmental,” Devyn called over the comm-set from the aft end of the Celestia.
“Go ahead,” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic answered over his comm-set.
“Sir, we’ve got a problem. The command deck shows a drop in pressure. It’s been steadily losing pressure ever since we set down.”
“Are you saying we’ve got a hole somewhere?”
“No, sir, more like a slow leak from a bad seal or in a feed pipe in the walls. Honestly, sir, it could be a million different things.”
“Don’t you have sensors that tell you where the leak is located?”
“Normally, yes, but most of them haven’t been installed yet. All I can monitor are the individual compartment sensors.”
The lieutenant commander rolled his eyes in frustration. “What do we do?”
“We need to close all compartments on the command deck so that I can monitor each one of them individually. That will at least tell us if the leak is in one of the compartment structures.”
“And if it’s not in one of the compartment structures?” the lieutenant commander wondered.
“Then it would have to be in the system itself, like in one of the oxygen lines between decks.”
“Which would mean?”
“It would mean our problem would be much worse, sir.”
* * *
Loki stood along the river’s edge staring at the fast-moving water flowing past them. “This does not look like the last one,” he told Major Waddell.