“How long have you been in Flight Core, lieutenant?”
“One hundred sixty-three days, ship time. I came up after Lt. Kansas died. He was my master. He died before we launched.” There was a lazy drawl to his accent, lazy but serious.
“Where are you from?”
“Sapphire, sir. Crain’s Settlement, in Graceland Territory.”
Graceland was a province in the interior of Oz continent. The kid’s twang was a dead giveaway. Keeler immediately began calling Toto “the kid” in his mind.
“How many shuttle flights have you flown.”
“Seventy-eight simulated... I was second pilot on a flight to Meridian.”
The pilot of the Yorick stepped forward. “Captain, Flt. Lt. Corby Hughes, if you would prefer, you are welcome to fly in on my ship.”
Keeler looked at Hughes. His flight uniform was neat and wrinkle-free, he looked meticulous and exacting. Keeler looked back at “the kid.”
Toto shrugged. “Makes no difference to me, sir.”
Keeler turned back to Hughes. “Neg, thank you for the invitation, lieutenant. I’ll stay on Zilla. ” He turned to Alkema. “We’ll be just fine in Lt. Toto’s capable hands, won’t we?”
Alkema’s smile almost flickered as he gave a second glance to Lt. Toto. “Of course, we will,”
he answered.
The first two Aves were lowered into position on their launch pads, magnetic clamps fastening them to the launch rails. As they dropped, the lighting in the launch bay turned from white to amber, with flashing lights on the top deck warning of the imminent launch. The Aves stared down the launch tunnels and were locked onto powerful electro-magnetic accelerators that ran the length of the ship and could accelerate a fully-loaded Aves to nearly half the speed of light.
Such velocity would not be necessary to send them to Eden, a mere 20,000 kilometers below. The launch rails were set for mimimum acceleration. Owing to the complexities of position and gravitational field interactions, the Aves would be launched into a looping course around the major planet and through its ring system before gliding to a landing on Eden. The pilots were referring to the course as “the Grand Tour.”
In the command module of Zilla, a voice spoke to Flight Lieutenant Toto. “Pegasus Flight Operations to Aves Zilla, confirm rail-lock.”
“Rail-lock confirmed.”
“Pegasus Flight Operations clears Zilla for launch.”
“Zilla acknowledges,” Toto said, simultaneously sending the launch command. Zilla fired down the launch rail in a flash. In a matter of nanoseconds, Zilla shot from the front of the giant ship and embarked on a curving course toward the surface of the Eden moon. The Aves Zilla
In Zilla’s main cabin, Keeler stared out through the small portal next to his seat. Zilla was plying a course between the cloud-tops and the ring system. Below him, he saw the swirling golden clouds of the planet Eden orbitted, and, occasionally, great flashes of lightning the size of continents. Although the window was small, he could see two of the other major moons, and the shepherd moons that guided the rings in their orbit.
He tapped the glass thoughtfully. Space travel had been a fact of life on his planet for more than three centuries and a part of human existence from millennia before then. No one gave much thought to what a remarkable achievement it was. On the far side of that transparent plate was a cold vacuum, merciless and poised to consume the unwary. Between him and was an incredible piece of engineering, solid and stable, the functioning of its complex technology taken for a certainty.
He undid his harness and stood. The ship may have been cruising through space at 100,000
km an hour, but it felt steady as a rock. He made his way forward to the hatchway that led to the flight deck, which was situated above the main cabin. A lift took him to that level. Lt. Toto slouched lazily in the command seat, guiding the ship with one hand on his control column, looking like a teenaged kid out in a street-cruiser. Above him were projections showing the Aves course, its position relative to Eden, the Planet, and Pegasus (along with a schematic showing the interactions of the gravitational fields of the local bodies), showing its position relative to the other five Aves, and a systems read-out. Below him and to the left were real-time sensor scans of the Landing Zone.
“Hoy,” said Keeler.
“Hoy,” Toto answered, leisurely, sitting up just a little bit. “What’s up, Captain?”
“Nothing much,” Keeler took the second seat, sitting down with a bit of a groan. “Just being sociable. I thought I might try to get to know you a little bit before we land.”
“Not that much to know, sir. I was born in Crain’s Settlement. Grew up there. Went to Flight Academy.” Toto shrugged, as if the rest of the story should be self-evident.
“Do you have any family?”
“Neg. I’ve got some brothers and a sister back on Sapphire, but nobody on Pegasus.”
“And your parents?”
“They died.”
“Oh,” said Keeler. “I’m sorry.”
“Everybody has to die, or, else, there wouldn’t be room for more people.”
No arguing with that. “Do you like being a pilot?”
“I guess.”
Keeler thought he might get more descriptive answers if he provided more pretext. “I always find it interesting to know what inspired people to get involved in the Odyssey Project. As a professor of history, I’m intrigued by the prospect of learning about our human past, finding out how much of what has filtered down to us over the millennia is true and how much is legend. It’s also fascinating to see how history evolved on other worlds.”
“I suppose it may be.”
“What brought you into the Odyssey Project.”
“Have you ever been to Crain’s Settlement?” Toto asked.
Keeler had probably flown over and/or passed through it, always on the way to some place else. “Not really.”
Toto nodded. “Not surprised. There’s not much to do in Crain’s Settlement except go someplace else. When they asked me if I’d sign up for the Odyssey Project I said, ‘Sure, what the Hell?’ and I got picked. Then, I ended up in the Doom Patrol.”
“The Doom Patrol?”
“My flight group.”
“Why do they call it the ‘Doom Patrol?’”
“I guess they have a lot of accidents. Like Kansas. Remember Eurica? He died at Meridian, just after he transferred out of the Doom Patrol.”
“How interesting.”
The great golden globe of the (probable) Eden moon began filling the upper canopy. “You may want to get back to the main cabin. We’ll be entering the atmosphere in a few minutes. It might be a little rough.”
Keeler nodded. “Well, it was nice talking to you.”
“Likewise, sir.”
As he took the lift back down to the main cabin, Keeler wondered what it was about pilots that they always made you leave the Flight Deck before they landed the ship. Perhaps, they did want anyone to see them screaming “Dear God! I don’t know how to land this thing! We’re doomed!”
He mentally filed the thought among life’s irreducible mysteries, next to why women always went to the hygiene suite in pairs. Specialist Alkema was waiting for him when he returned to his seat. “I’ve just learned the most extraordinary thing,” Keeler said. “Did you know that the squadron this ship belongs to is called the Doom Patrol?”
“Za, actually, I did.”
“I wonder why I didn’t know that. Is it common knowledge in the ship’s company?”
“Officially, the Doom Patrol is listed as Flight Group Delta. They choose their own nicknames.”
Keeler removed a bottle of tonic from the drinks dispenser. “I’ll make a note to myself to investigate where the custom arises. I suppose it promotes camaraderie.”
Alkema removed a case from the storage bin above the seat. “Are you familiar with Class-L
landing gear, Captain?”
Keeler set down his drink. He noticed the re
st of the team was already out-fitted. “Neg, Alkema, that’s what I brought you along for.”
Alkema smiled, and Keeler observed that he had one of those smiles that went high, high up on his cheeks, even when it was condescending. “Class-L landing gear was designed specifically for low gravity planetary environments. It has all the basic functions ... integrated commuications, sensor suite, environmental controls, air purifiers...”
Keeler held up a hand and brought the spiel to a halt. “Just tell me how it works?”
Alkema lifted the top of the case, and lifted something like a glove out of it. “This is your sensor and tracking system, it also interfaces with your headgear to help you target your pulse cannon should that be necessary. Your pulse cannon straps around your forearm, you can fire it mentally, or by flexing your ...”
Keeler looked doubtful. “I don’t think I’ll be needing that.”
“Pacifist?”
“Lousy shot.”
“All right, let me show you the jacket.” He pulled a jacket, in command white, from the pack and spread it out before him. “It’s insulated and contains a coolant system to maintain a comfortable temperature. Your gear also includes a toolkit, canteen, emergency rations, emergency comm...”
“Specialist...”
“Captain...?”
“What if I don’t want to wear all this... landing gear...”
Alkema licked his lips. “Well... you should wear the jacket and underjack at least. It will keep you comfortable and process anything out of the air that could cause an allergic or toxic reaction.”
“Hm, I guess I better wear that then.” He removed his regular jacket and slipped into the landing jacket. It was heavier than his regular uniform, and along the seams were small hard areas that he supposed housed the atmosphere conditioners.
“Looks good, Captain.”
Eden?
Just above Eden’s atmosphere, six Aves broke formation, becoming three flights in Leader and Wingman formation, and the flights broke off as they broke through the high atmospheric layer of amber-colored smog that obscured the planet Eden.
Kate and Neville broke ahead first and streamed toward the planet’s terminator, to their rendezvous with whatever awaited on the planet’s lonely and barren Farside. Past the terminator, they monitored the build-up of a huge and powerful weather system, screaming winds driven by the difference in temperature from dayside to nightside. Edward and George broke off next made their course southward, toward the dayside’s largest landmass, an irregular blob of a continent surrounded by a mane of peninsular tentacles. These ships carried the pure science teams, considered the easiest mission. Yorick and Zilla stayed a steady course north, making for a large, comma-shaped landmass in the northern hemisphere. It was the most densely populated region of the planet, the center of the world’s supposed trade routes, and the site of the largest cities. Zilla
Captain Keeler watched the land coming up on the monitors beneath him. He saw the geometric arrays of fields and farms, and the long lines of roadways. The pattern was familiar to him from any number of journeys across his home planet. Seeing the signature of humanity on the planet below gave him reassurance, because it evidenced where humans had carved out a civilization in the endless wilderness of the universe.
Keeler leaned across the seat to Specialist Alkema. “We ought to establish some kind of scale for rating the technological progress of the civilizations we encounter,” Keeler told him.
“Of course, societies advance at different rates across different areas, but you could assign a value to each of, say... Agriculture, Communication, Transport, Medicine... for example, assign each a score on a scale of 1-100, with our worlds being 100. You could average them and determine the relative level of advancement each culture had achieved.”
“What if we encounter a culture more advanced than our worlds?”
“Well, provided they didn’t dust the whole lot of us, we would rate them over 100.”
Alkema nodded. The Captain had impressed him as a man who delighted in the infinite variety of character among persons, and yet, he seemed to have a driving need to make the rest of the universe orderly and rational. He did not think about this much. Toto’s voice came down from the flight deck. “We’re five kilometers out from the Landing Zone at 3,000 meters. We’re in touchdown mode, so strap yourselves up. We’ll be on the surface in about ninety seconds.”
Keeler turned to Alkema and grinned. “I hope we’re not landing in the middle of next year’s harvest.”
Alkema nodded and secured his restraints, his mind hosting a sudden vision of Edenian villagers surrounding the ship with torches and pitchforks.
The Landing Zone was a large pasture outside one of the larger settlements. The field provided enough space to land and, if necessary, defend the ships. Zilla and Yorick descended quietly, landing pads deploying underneath, and settled onto the thick grass. Alkema checked the scanners at his station. “No inhabitants nearby. No indication of hazardous elements in the atmosphere.” He turned to Keeler. “Welcome to Eden.”
“Game on,” ssid Keeler, using an expression from his youth. He reached to uncouple his seat restraints and was amazed at the lightness of his arm. Zilla’s on-board gravity had cut-out, and Eden (if this was Eden), had a far less substantial pull.
The Marines exited first, followed by the technicians. The bright amber daylight of Eden streamed into the ship, casting everything in a golden hue. It was morning in Eden, the sun had just rose above an eastern horizon still shrouded in yellow-gray haze. He looked out over a landscape of gentle hills covered with black grass edged by rows of thick-skinned trees with enormous black leaves. In the sky, the planet of which Eden was a moon hung in the path of the rising sun, perhaps three times as large as Ulysses, Sapphire’s nearest moon. It looked like a large ghostly pale sun, its ring system scarcely discernible. As the sunlight filtered through Eden’s atmosphere, it produced iridescent, multi-spectral shadows —like oil spilt on water
— and lit the landscape as though through some kind of metallic lens filter. It gave a sheen to the skins of the landing team, making them look like and/oroids.
I wonder what it looks like when it rains, thought Keeler. The Marines were scouting the perimeter. Keeler had not gotten used to the light, which gave everything the appearance of a sepia-print brought to life. Some of the others were wearing lenses to filter the light to a more customary spectrum.
The low-gravity was amazing. Keeler had foregone most of the Odyssey Project Training and so had little experience in low-grav environments. With his weight a third of what he was accustomed to, he felt like a child again, full of life, spirit, energy.
“Watch this Captain,” said Specialist Alkema. With that, he launched himself into the air, did a somersault over Zilla’s command module and landed on his feet on the opposite side. Grinning, he ducked under the ship and crossed back to his Captain.
“I could do that, but I don’t want to,” Keeler said.
Toto appeared at the hatch and looked around. Apparently satisfied at the surroundings, he came over to where Keeler and Alkema were standing.
“Captain,” called Lt. Commander Honeywell. “Incoming.” He pointed off to the horizon, where a flock of large birds was becoming visible.
“Those are pretty big birds.”
Alkema had extended his tracker in front on him, and magnified the incoming image.
“They’re not birds, Captain.”
Keeler adjusted his vision and saw clearly. It was no flock of birds. They were humans with some kind of artificial wings on their backs. Of course, Keeler thought. Under these gravitational conditions, it would be relatively simple to construct contrivances enabling autonomous human flight. It was done for sport on Hyperion and Ulysses, and the other lunar outposts throughout the system.
“That’s kinda neat,” Toto muttered.
The flying people set down on the grass in front of them. There were four of them, armed with swords
and a variety of throwing knives strapped in bandoliers across their chests. They wore thick, leathery helmets and goggles over their eyes. They landed on the far side of the pasture and stood, studying the landing party from a distance. The Marines took a position between the bird-men and the rest of the party.
“Easy guys,” Keeler muttered. The Marines did not point their pulse cannons at the Edenians, but stood ready to defend if called upon.
“Am I seeing...” Alkema asked, “What I think I am seeing?”
“What is that, Specialist?”
Alkema projected an image from his tracker, a bioscan of the winged guards. The wings may have been contrivances, but they were made of muscle and sinew, they were connected by muscle, nerve and vein to the guards, and functioned as a part of their anatomy. Keeler gave a low whistle, leaned over to the pilot and whispered, “Toto, I don't think we’re in Oz any more.”
Chapter Four
Eden – The Farside
Kate and Neville left the butterscotch glow of the Edenian sun behind them, plowing into the dark and murky skies of Eden’s night-side. This side of Eden, consisted primarily of one huge and pitted continental landmass. Without sunlight, it became a cold, windswept, and stormy place. Nine days of cold darkness followed by nine days of searing heat, Redfire thought, looking out through the canopy. It was less surprising that only four per cent of Eden’s population lived here, than that anyone would choose to.
The largest settlement on this side of the planet was nestled in a deep, broad valley surrounded by a collar of mountain ranges. The probes suggested as many as 10,000 - 15,000
inhabitants spread over 800 sq. kilometers. This, in itself, was curious. Normal patterns of human colonization would produce the largest settlements on the coastline, which would facilitate commerce with the more populous dayside as well as the arrival of immigrants. Those who lived here had seemingly chosen to isolate themselves behind natural barriers, and subject themselves to the more extreme deprivations of the continental climate. While trying not to form any prejudicial notions, Redfire could not help but wonder what kind of hardy, fearsomely independent people would choose to live in such desolation when the planet’s dayside seemed, from all reports, paradisical. Exiles, obviously, but had they exiled themselves or had they been exiled?
Worlds Apart 02 Edenworld Page 5