Dremiks

by Cassandra Davis

  “Lander 1, permission granted.”

  Klaxons sounded in the launch bay. Maggie waited for the all clear—the ubiquitous thumbs up—from the bay team-captain indicating that all personnel had cleared the area. She turned over the engines and felt the gentle thrum of their ignition buffet the small craft.

  “Lander 1, launch bay doors retracted. You are clear for departure.”

  “Roger that bridge. Maneuvering power online. Bringing her about.”

  “Lander 1, this is the Captain. I expect you back in good working order. Have a care down there.”

  “Understood sir. We’ll be back before you’ve missed us.”

  O’Connell turned the lander and used the thrusters to guide it out into the vacuum beyond the Hudson. They were facing away from Dremiks as they exited; only a vast expanse of stars could be seen.

  “If you’re a praying man, Mangoda, now would be a good time to whisper one,” Maggie quipped.

  “Lander 1,” a voice crackled over the channel. “Be advised you have an open mic.” The dry voice on the other end belonged to the captain.

  O’Connell ground her teeth and heard Mangoda chuckle softly. “Lander 1 so advised. Thank you kindly, bridge.” She flipped off the com channel and banked the lander around the body of the Hudson. The planet came into full view before them. It was a mass of swirling blue and grey clouds. She maneuvered them into a lower orbit and watched the outboard sensors collect their initial data.

  “High magnetic fluctuations,” Mangoda noted.

  “Yeah, I see that. I don’t like the look of that cloud formation either.” She jabbed a finger at the screen located between the two seats. “That area there looks more promising. Let’s see what we find.”

  Back on the Hudson, Fortunas usurped Ensign Chi’s seat on the bridge. He contemplated the data pouring back from the lander. Captain Hill was in his chair watching the large bridge monitor. Lieutenant Price sat in his co-pilot’s chair and tried not to fidget. Each of O’Connell’s flight commands relayed back to the Hudson. Price watched the feed and found himself trying to anticipate her next move.

  O’Connell spent almost ninety minutes maneuvering the lander before she felt she’d found a good entry point into the Dremikian atmosphere. “Hudson this is Lander 1. Preparing to enter Dremiks atmosphere at point,” she glanced at the navigational chart and read off the coordinates.

  Suddenly, the proximity alerts started shrieking their shrill warning.

  “Satellite off the port wing, moving towards us at mach 5!” Mangoda shouted and turned in his seat trying to spot the object that radar had picked up.

  “Shit!” O’Connell fired the thrusters and banked the lander hard to the left. Seconds later, out the port window—which was now below her given the sharp angle of the ship—she saw a metallic object whiz past.

  “Lander 1 to Hudson. Our compliments to Honored One Dwax, if he could please advise us of any other unmarked objects buzzing about?” The commander’s voice was strained.

  On the bridge of the Hudson, Captain Hill was already confronting Dwax in a low, cold, tone. “Get your fleet command on the line immediately. If anything else menaces my lander I am going to become very angry.”

  Dwax certainly was not keeping track of the exact amount of time it took the fleet commander to move the satellite’s orbit, but he was fairly certain the captain did not break off his cold stare for the entirety of the delay.

  “Should I expect any more monitoring devices to endanger my crew, Honored One?”

  Dwax could not meet the captain’s gaze. “They say that all satellites and other devices have been moved from this orbital track.”

  “That is appreciated. Thank you.”

  It took another thirty minutes for O’Connell to re-position the lander for entry into the atmosphere. After receiving permission from the Hudson, she fired her engines full force, and the lander streaked at a sharp angle towards the surface. Almost immediately the sensors went hay-wire and the radio crackled. The ship began to rock violently, so the commander increased their angle of descent. The engines began to overheat. When O’Connell tried to level the craft out, they were suddenly met with a magnetic surge. The lander rocketed upwards.

  On the bridge of the Hudson, Lieutenant Price involuntarily gasped as the lander seemed to shoot out of a cloud cluster.

  “Lander 1 this is the Captain, advise your status.”

  “Lander 1 here, sir. Skipped off the ionosphere. This isn’t as easy as it looks, sir.”

  “So advised. Your window of opportunity is shrinking, Commander.”

  “Acknowledged, sir. We’re making adjustments now.” Maggie switched to the internal communications channel. “What do you say, we avoid any more magnetic hot plates?”

  “Works for me, ma’am.” Mangoda indicated a storm cluster south of their designated landing zone. “The magnetic fields seem strongest on the eastern sides of these storm clusters. We might do better to try entry on the southwestern sides.”

  “You mean fly into what looks like the mother of all thunderstorms?”

  He gave her a chagrined look. “Yes, ma’am.”

  O’Connell chuckled. “Let it never be said you lack nerve. Okay Mangoda, let’s do this.” She moved the lander back into position and flipped the com switch. “Hudson we’re going to try this again. Expect to lose com in that storm. We’ll talk to you when we can.”

  “Acknowledged lander. We’ll be here.”

  Again O’Connell powered the engines to their highest setting and pointed the nose of the shuttle downward. The ride was even worse than before. The magnetic sheer was weaker, but the powerful winds buffeting the craft sent them jigging across the sky. The engines roared and red-lined as a powerful downdraft sucked them through the atmosphere.

  Maggie’s stomach heaved. Her hands were white knuckled on the controls. Not, she thought, that she was the least bit in control.

  “Structural integrity holding!” Mangoda had to shout over the shrieking din of the engines and winds outside.

  O’Connell pulled back on the power to the engines, and the lander immediately went into a flat spin. Grunting with the effort, the commander rightened the ship only to have it shoot downward in another powerful downdraft. Both of the lander’s occupants vomited in response to the negative g’s.

  And then, suddenly, the storm spit them out.

  They were flying fifteen kilometers above a small rift valley. O’Connell ripped her helmet off and swiped her hand across her mouth. She swallowed twice to rinse away the taste of bile and said, “I need a nav fix, ASAP.”

  Mangoda coughed, spat, and then acknowledged the order.

  “Com check, com check. Hudson this is Lander 1, do you read?”

  There was a pause before the radio crackled. “Lander 1, this is Hudson. Advise your condition.”

  “Shaken, not stirred, Hudson.” Maggie delivered the witticism with a grin at her co-pilot.

  There was a pause. “Repeat last, Lander 1?”

  The occupants of the lander laughed. “Lander 1 advises that ship is sound and crew well. Are you reading data?”

  “Good to hear status, Lander 1. Data is constant stream.” There was another pause. “Lander 1, did you just shoot out of a thirty-kilometer-high tornado?”

  “Certainly felt like one, Hudson.”

  “Roger Lander 1. Be advised the captain strongly disapproves of a repeat performance of said maneuver.”

  Both O’Connell and Mangoda grimaced at that thought. “So do we, Hudson, over.”

  They looked out the windows and saw a vast expanse of rocky wasteland. The storms they had seen from orbit were dark patches on the horizon.

  “Not very pretty, is it?”

  “No ma’am, can’t say that it is. I think we need to head north now. We’re nine hundred and sixty kilometers south of the LZ.”

  The commander nodded and turned the lander toward the new coordinates.

  In orbit far above them, Captain Hill scr
ubbed a hand across his face. He glanced up when Price said, in an alarmed voice, “Sir, what is that?”

  Rising above the horizon as a large golden orb, the moon Najif came slowly into view.

  “Our adversary, it seems. We’ve seen Najif rise before, Lieutenant. What is the issue?”

  “No sir, not the moon, that.” Price pointed to the surface of the planet where a massive storm was beginning to form.

  The captain leaned forward in his chair and stared in horror. “That, Lieutenant, is big trouble. Get O’Connell on the radio right now.”

  ***

  When the massive wall cloud appeared off the starboard side of the lander, Maggie knew they were in serious trouble. The Hudson tracked the storm from orbit and advised her on its progress. The entire weather system seemed to be a direct result of the moon Najif’s orbit. To make things worse, the moon V-tay was on a longer orbital cycle that occasionally synchronized with that of Najif. The resulting gravitational and magnetic pulls had created a nightmarish storm of deadly intensity, filled with lightning and falling meteorites.

  O’Connell looked at her map and then at the data regarding the incoming storm. “We aren’t going to make it.”

  “No, ma’am.” Mangoda indicated a canyon nearby. “That might be a good sheltered spot. Radar return indicates a slight overhang on the western side. It should provide enough coverage from the full brunt of the winds and the meteorites.”

  O’Connell radioed their intentions to the Hudson as she maneuvered the craft nearer the area Mangoda had indicated. They rounded the rock outcropping and simultaneously winced. The floor underneath the overhang was littered with massive rock spires.

  “Lander 1, this is Hudson. We show a favorable location six kilometers east of your present location. Advise you locate and land immediately.”

  Maggie glanced to the east at the on-rushing storm. “Hudson you said east?”

  “Roger Lander 1. Show you have no—repeat zero—time for debate. Proceed to following coordinates.”

  Fixing the coordinates in their navigational system, she steered the lander to the east. They were staring at a black and green swirling mass of clouds and dust. Before they were within two kilometers of their destination, the radio connection with the Hudson began to crackle in and out.

  “Mangoda, I need your help eyeballing this. We’re going to be flying blind soon.”

  “I think we’re—” He gasped as the lander heaved to port before O’Connell could bring it back level. “I think we’re headed for that dome formation ahead.”

  “I hope so, because we’re out of time.” Lightning cracked nearby. The small craft was engulfed in an eerie glow. There was a loud pop before several of the monitors within the ship went black. “Shut down everything else before we lose all the sensors!” She had to shout to be heard over the groaning of the stressed metal hull.

  Just as they were descending on the protected left side of the domed rock formation, a slipstream formed. O’Connell corrected for the sudden outward lurching motion. A loud bang reverberated through the lander from the rear. The port engine gave out completely. With only one engine and still fighting the slipstream, Maggie tried to slow their slide into the cliff wall.

  She heard two distinct shrieks of pain before the swirling blackness of the storm enveloped them.

  Chapter 20

  Captain Hill sat in his chair staring at the moon Najif’s shadow as it slowly traversed the planet Dremiks. The planet’s atmosphere, roiling like a boiling cauldron, was impervious to any sensor probes. The ionosphere of the planet seemed to be stretching up to reach Najif, and, in the process, wreaking havoc on the Hudson’s orbit and communications.

  The entire ship waited, hovering above the last known location of Lander 1. Somewhere down on the planet’s surface were two crew members, their fate unknown. No one felt that worrying uncertainty more than the Hudson’s captain. He sat in brooding silence, his finger tapping lightly to a beat heard only in his own head. The bridge crew sensed his barely leashed anger and gave him a wide berth. While he sat, he stared at the view screens and ground his teeth.

  The very last transmission from the lander had been a garbled shout and a piercing scream. The sensors were not relaying information. There were no signs of life at all from the lander, and no one knew whether it was a fault on that craft or on the Hudson.

  The captain massaged a tense muscle in his neck and suddenly realized that Lieutenant Price was still on the bridge.

  “Lieutenant,” he snapped. The young man jumped forward in his co-pilot’s seat. “Lieutenant, I will need you rested if, when, we send someone after O’Connell. Go get some sleep.”

  “Sir, I thought maybe…”

  The captain cut him off. “That was an order, Lieutenant, and not open to debate.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Price saluted and left the bridge.

  After watching the officer depart, Hill rubbed his neck again. His own exhaustion was quickly degrading his reflexes. He turned to Chief Turner. “I think I’ll take my own advice, Chief. You have the bridge. I want to be notified the moment we are out of this communications void.”

  “Yes sir, Captain.” The grizzled veteran nodded at his captain. “She’ll be all right sir. She’s a spunky girl. A little thing like a storm won’t keep her down.”

  Captain Hill stopped on his way through the hatchway. “Of course she will be. I ordered her to come back in one piece and she knows better than to disobey an order.”

  The chief chuckled. “Just so, sir. I’ll send word as soon as we have communications again.”

  ***

  Dr. Cassie Ruger sat alone staring at nothing. She’d re-packed her medical kit four times and reviewed both Commander O’Connell’s and Specialist Mangoda’s medical files half a dozen times. She was waiting, like the rest of the crew, for any word from the surface of Dremiks. She had tried to sleep, and she had tried meditating—neither helped. With an exasperated sigh, the doctor turned around to her work station. Resigned that sleep was not going to come, she started reviewing the medical data again.

  ***

  Five hours after the crash, Maggie sat on a crate of soil sample collectors trying to decide if her collarbone was broken. She was fairly certain her left shoulder was dislocated, but now the pain was beginning to radiate down and across her chest. With her good right arm she gingerly probed the area around her neck, but it was too painful to examine fully. Some of the pounding pain was likely due to the large bruise on her forehead.

  She surveyed the crowded cargo bay around her. Most of the contents of the lander remained secure, but there were wires hanging from an open access port. The steady hissing of a ruptured pressure valve punctuated the screeling wind outside. The wires she had ripped down herself in order to turn the interior lighting back on. At the time, she’d been desperate to find a med kit and hadn’t cared about tearing out anything essential. Now she sat looking at the open hole and wondering if the wires to fix the radio had been damaged while she hot-wired the lights. The storm outside began to taper off, yet she was still unable to contact the Hudson.

  Looking down at the floor of the lander, Maggie frowned as the room spun slightly. Since she’d awakened, the dizziness had faded, but it was still noticeable enough to make her queasy. Unfortunately, she had little time to really worry about her own medical condition. Her co-pilot was in bad shape. Mangoda’s scalp was split when a piece of the lander’s ceiling panel slammed into his head during the crash. O’Connell could tell there was swelling and also that his arm was broken. She was sure there were internal injuries as well. Moving him from his mangled co-pilot’s chair to the floor of the lander and staunching the flow of blood had been a superhuman effort that taxed her beyond her limit. Now all she could do was to sit very still and try not to move too suddenly herself—and stare at those hanging wires and wonder if the Hudson had any idea where they were.

  A few minutes later, the commander noticed that the swirling sand and gravel p
elting the thick windows of the lander had stopped. There was still the sound of air rushing by, but none of the shrieking that the winds had caused earlier. She leveraged herself up to peer out the port side window. The lander was wedged underneath a rock outcropping, leaning on its starboard side. They seemed to be on a ledge that sloped downward a few feet away from the port side. From her vantage point, all Maggie could see were rocky blue-gray outcroppings and swirling dust. There was not much light, she assumed because the outcropping had a large overhang that blocked the reflected light of Najif and V-tay.

  With the storm passing, O’Connell stood a greater chance of getting radio reception. She gingerly shuffled across the lander to the cockpit. The panel that had broken loose and struck Mangoda was hanging by one bolt. She stared at it and debated whether to spend the time—and endure certain pain—pulling it the rest of the way down, or leave it and risk having the thing crash down onto her skull. She finally admitted that the pain involved with moving it would be too great to bear and, with a grimace, turned to the radio.

  The first sensor she turned on was really nothing more than a magnetic compass. If the dial spun crazily she would know that the magnetic fields were still too great to risk turning on electrical equipment. When the dial barely moved, O’Connell whispered a silent prayer before flicking the switch for the radar to activate.

  The system immediately started “painting” a picture of her surroundings. The image comforted her since the navigational sensors refused to work at all. Even when she finally located and changed two burnt out fuses, the dials and star charts remained black and empty.

  With a searing curse, Maggie started to work on the radio. It was only fifteen minutes before she realized that the main radio relay had been severely damaged in the crash. She was fairly certain she could rebuild it, but not quickly enough to suit her needs. While she stood there running through scenarios, Maggie glanced down at Mangoda’s still form and realized that he still had the collar of his flight suit attached. The collar housed all of the biometric sensors that fed data back to the Hudson. That system worked on a different frequency and transmitted from a separate, and seemingly undamaged, panel. She might not be able to talk to the Hudson, but O’Connell would be able to let them know that help was needed.