Alpha Centauri: Sawyer's World (T-Space: Alpha Centauri Book 2)

by Alastair Mayer

  “All right, go figure it out. But don’t take anything apart until I tell you. I want everybody’s input on this.”

  “Of course not. No worries.” Maclaren turned to head back, thinking about the implications of scavenging parts from the Anderson’s engines. There would be other useful bits. In fact.... She turned back to Sawyer.

  “You know,” Maclaren said, “if we are going to start stripping parts, the engines and hydraulic systems have some nice high pressure tubing.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Gun barrels, weapons for hunting and self-defense. Something better than an air horn and electric dart.”

  “How are you going to make ammunition? I’m sure powder won’t be a problem: we’ve all taken chemistry, but cases, primers?”

  “Nah, not that kind. The tubing won’t stand up to the pressure of a rifle bullet, that peaks at ten times higher than what our systems use. And you’re right, we don’t have any ammo. I’m thinking more like an air rifle. Although come to think of it, some kind of caseless/rocket ammo hybrid might work, maybe with an electrical ignition system.”

  Sawyer raised an eyebrow. “I think you just want another toy to play with. But sure, if we decide to strip the ship’s systems for parts, you can look at doing that. Just don’t blow yourself up, or anybody else either.”

  “Aw, you’re no fun anymore,” Maclaren joked.

  “Sorry, not part of my job description,” Sawyer said, although she smiled as she said it. “Anyway, the sawmill has higher priority. There are all kinds of projects we could use lumber for.”

  “Sure, no worries.”

  As Maclaren headed back she knew that of course Sawyer would be worrying. A thought struck her about the origin of the captain’s name. If she got this mill running, she guessed Sawyer would be living up to it.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  USS Anderson, geology workstation

  Tyrell sat reviewing the seismic and magnetotelluric data they had collected so far when Sawyer and Finley joined him at the computer. He had a three-dee display up of the subsurface structures to the west and north.

  “So, what have we got?” Sawyer asked.

  “As we thought, it looks like an old magma chamber beneath the dome, but it’s not active. There are a few cracks and channels running from it to near the surface,” he pointed on the screen to where that was, “so we’d tend to get hot springs in the area, but nothing much more than that.”

  “Okay. What about to the north?”

  “You mean Mount Finley?” he said, referring to the small peak that they had thought resembled a tree-covered pyramid.

  “Hey,” Finley objected, “I think I’ve been insulted.” It was rather short for a mountain.

  “Okay, Pete’s Peak, then.”

  “Not helping.”

  “All right. How about, The Structure Formerly Known As The Possible Pyramid....”

  “Better. But only slightly.”

  “Any way, it is definitely different material than the surroundings, and it appears to extend straight downward below the surface, lending support to the idea that it’s an old volcanic neck. The thing is there don’t seem to be any other features that you’d associate with such a structure. No dikes or anything, and it doesn’t look like there’s a magma chamber beneath it, solidified or otherwise.”

  “Could it be an offshoot from the chamber under the dome?”

  “Not impossible, but look here,” he pointed at the area below the peak and running toward the dome. “I don’t see anything that looks like a channel there. Granted it could all be solidified and never opened up to groundwater so we’re not picking anything up. No water, no induced electromagnetic currents. We’d have to do a more detailed scan that we don’t have the equipment for. But look at this,” he pointed to the peak again. “Follow the neck down.”

  “It just stops,” Sawyer said. “That’s odd.”

  “Yeah, and not very deeply, considering. Looks like a couple of hundred meters at most. Not much more than it is high.”

  “Maybe the sensors just aren’t picking it up.” Finley suggested. “The difference from the surrounding material has just blurred enough to be indistinguishable.”

  “Sure,” Tyrell said. “But I’d expect the bottom to blur out, this looks like a hard cut-off. Could be just a signal processing artifact, I suppose.”

  “Well, I doubt any natives would have built a monument only to bury the lower two thirds,” said Sawyer. “And it’s a column, not an extension of a pyramid.”

  “Yeah, so it’s a volcanic neck, just as we thought,” Tyrell said. “Just a little bit weird.”

  Finley considered this. “Maybe something left over from before the terraforming? We decided that Kakuloa had been resurfaced.”

  “I guess we can’t rule that out until we get in there and take more samples. If it’s a lot older than the surrounding terrain....” he trailed off.

  “That would be one mother of an erratic,” Sawyer said, looking at Finley.

  He had no reply.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Sawyer’s cabin, USS Anderson

  A few days later, Krysansky came to see the captain. He rapped at the hatchway. “Captain Sawyer, a word if I might?”

  Sawyer didn’t mind the interruption, she’d been working through projections of the team’s supplies and it wasn’t looking great. They’d have to increase the proportions of native foods they were eating, especially if Ulrika Klaar was to maintain on an Earth food diet.

  “Certainly. What’s on your mind, doctor? Please don’t tell me somebody else is pregnant.”

  “What? Nyet, that is not why I am here. But it is related.”

  “How so?”

  “I have been reviewing inventory of sick bay, first aid kits, and so on. We are remarkably well equipped to deal with trauma. If someone breaks a bone or cuts themselves, I can fix them up. Even if they manage to impale themselves with tent pole or bitten by large animal, I can deal with. We are prepared for every known bacterial and fungal infection.”

  “Well, yes, nobody knew what we might find, other than alien life. What of it?”

  “What we are woefully not equipped to handle is pregnancy and childbirth. I have no equipment that is only used for obstetrics. Nothing specifically for monitoring baby, no extraction forceps, nothing.”

  Sawyer recognized that Krysansky was upset about this; his accent thickened under stress. “Can you adapt existing equipment? Maybe have Maclaren design something she can build with the fabber.”

  “Da, I am thinking of this. With your approval, I will suggest it to her. But she cannot fab surgical steel she does not have.”

  “Of course. But maybe she can find a substitute, titanium perhaps.” Sawyer thought for a moment. She wasn’t aware of anything mission-critical that Maclaren needed the fabbers for currently, and besides, they were still a few months out before Klaar was due. “Yes, she can spend her time on that.”

  “Also, I think I should be cross-checking the crew for histological compatibility, for blood typing.”

  “We all had that done before the mission left Earth. Don’t you have that data?”

  “Da, it was, and I do. That was before spending months in space or on the surface of an alien planet. Two planets, for most of you.”

  He was right. Klaar, Tyrell, Finley, Singh and Sawyer herself had all been on the Kakuloa landing team, more than half the team here. “What does that have to do with it? Our blood types aren’t going to change.”

  “No. At least, that would be a very surprising result. But you may have been exposed to organisms or antigens that have modified your immunological profiles. Maybe you have sub-clinical infection of some kind. Whatever. Even if so, most likely would not affect your ability to give or receive blood if it becomes necessary, but I would rather confirm that now t
han find out when someone goes into haemolytic shock from transfusion gone bad. Cross-check will ensure that. I just need to take small sample from everyone and do lab work. We are equipped for that.”

  “All right, good point. I will let everybody know they need to report to you for a blood draw.” It wouldn’t be a big deal, part of the mission protocol had been to draw samples every couple of weeks for comparison purposes. Those samples were frozen, and anything from before the Anderson landing would have gone back to Earth with the Heinlein.

  “Once I get it cross typed, I would like to consider everyone donating a liter of blood plasma every few weeks, so we have on hand in case of accident, or problem with Klaar’s delivery. But is only good for a month, so we can’t stockpile.”

  “You have the cryo-preserved blood we gave before the mission, don’t you?”

  “Da, but it takes time to thaw and flush glycol. In emergency, we may not have that time. But for now, it can wait.”

  “All right. Thank you for the update.”

  Chapter 30: Ceremony

  Camp Anderson, three weeks later

  The weather for the wedding was perfect. A clear blue sky with only a few scattered cumulus clouds, Alpha Centauri A was almost overhead, with the bright orange spark of Alpha Centauri B just rising in the east. They had gathered around the base of the lander, which provided a backdrop for the ceremony and helped lend Sawyer, as its captain, an air of authority suitable to the occasion. Sawyer herself was as dressed up as she could be under the circumstances, a clean ship suit with her captain’s tabs on the collar. She felt a little awkward about the whole thing, but it was something Klaar and Tyrell had wanted, and the team deserved something to celebrate. They had been working hard for months, with little time off.

  The happy couple were also as dressed up they could be, with Fred Tyrell in a surprisingly freshly-pressed looking coveralls, and Ulrika Klaar in a set of white surgical scrubs borrowed from the sick bay and taken in to complement her figure, except for her now noticeable, but not pronounced, tummy bulge. She hardly needed it with her long platinum hair, but somehow she, with Jennifer Singh’s help and a bit of creative fabber work by Maclaren, wore a rather elegant broad-brimmed hat, complete with decorative trim. She held a small bouquet of wildflowers that Singh had selected.

  With Peter Finley standing as Best Man, and Jennifer Singh as Maid of Honor, that only left three spectators, Dejois, Krysansky, and Maclaren. They sat on folding chairs that had been pulled from the mess tent. Beyond them, for the celebration feast, a Tyrell’s Uglibeast was roasting on a spit over a low fire.

  Most of the formalities of traditional weddings had been dispensed with. Even on Earth, few people stood on ceremony any more. But Ulrika had wanted a few ceremonial touches, and Tyrell, wisely, wasn’t about to deny her anything.

  Everyone was in position. Before Sawyer stood Ulrika and Fred, and just behind and to the side were Finley and Singh. The others were seated. Sawyer glanced at the notes on her data pad.

  “All right. As you all know, we are gathered here today under this alien sun, these alien suns, to continue the very human tradition of solemnizing the marriage of Frederick Tyrell and Ulrika Klaar. Who here stands for the father of Ulrika?” Sawyer didn’t really see the point of the last bit, but Ulrika had insisted.

  Krysansky stood up. Culturally he was closest to Ulrika’s real father, and he was almost old enough. They had both been aboard the Krechet on the voyage out. “I stand, and her young man meets my approval. I wish them both well.” He sat back down.

  “Thank you,” Sawyer continued. “Is there anyone opposed to this union, or know of any reason why they should not be joined in marriage?” Of course there wouldn’t be. After a few moments of silence, she said “very well. Ulrika Klaar, will you take this man, Frederick Tyrell, to be your husband from this day forward, to join with you and share all that is to come; and will you promise to be honest with him; to respect, trust, help, and care for him; through the best and worst, as long as you both live?”

  Ulrika turn to look at Fred and smiled. “I will.”

  “Frederick Tyrell, will you take this woman, Ulrika Klaar, to be your wife from this day forward, to join with you and share all that is to come; and will you promise to be honest with her; to respect, trust, help, and care for her; through the best and worst, as long as you both live?”

  He looked at Ulrika. “I will.”

  “The rings?” Sawyer prompted.

  Finley stepped forward and handed a ring to Tyrell. At the same time, Ulrika handed her bouquet to Singh who traded it back for another ring. Maclaren had crafted them on the fabber. Not gold, they didn’t have any to spare, but a titanium alloy that gleamed almost the right color.

  “Okay.” This next bit would require coordination, they wanted to slip the rings on each other at the same time. Fortunately, they had practiced. “Please face each other and raise your hands to each other.” They did so.

  “Now, place the ring on your partner’s finger and say the words ‘This ring symbolizes our union. We are one.’” Sawyer felt her eyes getting misty. Damn it, I can’t finish this with a lump in my throat. She swallowed, and watched as Ulrika and Fred slipped the rings on and said the words.

  Sawyer took a breath. “By the authority vested in me as captain of the USS Anderson and leader of this landing party, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Sawyer smiled broadly. “Go ahead and kiss each other.”

  The rest of the team cheered and applauded as Fred and Ulrika did just that.

  A minute later, as the cheering died down, they were still at it. “All right you two,” Sawyer said, “there will be time for more of that later. Let’s celebrate.”

  An informal reception line formed, with everyone getting the opportunity to shake hands, hug, or kiss the bride or groom. Dejois and Krysansky, and the women, kissed both on the cheeks. Tyrell looked embarrassed but stood there and took it. Finley reserved that for Ulrika and just gave Tyrell and handshake and half-hug.

  “So, your turn next?” Tyrell whispered to Finley.

  “We’ll see,” Finley said, but glanced in Maclaren’s direction.

  “Oh?”

  “Nothing.”

  Chapter 31: Status Report, Week Twenty-Six

  “This is Sawyer of the Anderson mission, Alpha Centauri A II, planet Able. Status update. This is local mission elapsed 170 local days, I make that 182 Earth days, almost exactly half an Earth year.” Sawyer began her regular transmission.

  “Ulrika Klaar-Tyrell’s pregnancy is proceeding normally. Doctor Krysansky assures me that she and the baby are still doing fine. No word yet on whether it will be a boy or a girl, the ultrasound equipment we have can’t resolve well enough at this stage, perhaps when the fetus is bigger. Krysansky has ruled out an amniocentesis. He’s not happy doing it with the equipment we have and he feels there are no indications of a reason to. Ulrika is definitely showing. Maclaren is adjusting the fabbers so that she’ll have maternity clothes that fit as time goes on.

  “In other news, Doctor Singh’s agriculture experiments are coming along nicely, we have about a hectare of assorted crops growing, grains, fruits and root vegetables. All rather puny looking by modern Earth standards, but Singh says they’re actually doing well for wild plant standards, if not yet cultivars. Apparently, the fertility of the soil is partly making up for the lack of generations of human selection for high yield.

  “Speaking of generations of human selection, there has been little further evidence of whatever species made the stone tools we found earlier. From time to time we’ll find another spear point or what might be an axe heads or hand axe, so the indigenes were in an advanced stone-age before they disappeared. With our range of exploration limited, it could turn out that there’s still a tribe of them not a thousand kilometers away, but every indication is they�
�re long gone. This may have been a hunting area thousands of years ago, but there’s no sign of any agriculture. Although after that long, geological processes would have likely have erased such. Doctors Dejois and Singh did find what might have been a stone fence, but I’m told that could have been used by primitives to herd animals in a hunt. There have been no obvious signs of campfire smoke anywhere within sight either, and we certainly didn’t see anything from orbit.

  “Construction on the camp is proceeding well, the sawmill Maclaren set up certainly helps. When the aqueduct is finished, the next project is a fixed boarding ramp for the Anderson. It will be generally useful, and Ulrika probably shouldn’t be climbing the ladder in her condition for much longer.”

  Expecting a very pregnant woman to climb the boarding ladder was, not impossible, but not the best idea. It wasn’t that the original designers hadn’t made allowances for getting an injured crew member up to sickbay, but strapping Ulrika into a stretcher and hauling her up with the winch didn’t seem like a good idea either. She would be able to walk the ramp under her own power.

  “As always, we’re looking forward to welcoming the next mission, and our regards to everyone back in the home system. Personal messages are attached.

  “Sawyer for Anderson Base, report ends.”

  Chapter 32: Birth

  Camp Anderson, several months later

  Elizabeth Sawyer sat out in the sunlight, her notepad in hand, reviewing the data from the seismic sensors. They’d recorded a minor temblor earlier that day, and she was triangulating to find the epicenter. From that and the different propagation rates of the S and P waves, they could build up their picture of the planet’s, or at least this continent’s interior. The shrill of her omni startled her. They were hardly used for communication within the camp, and there wasn’t anyone away as far as she knew. And she should know.